The Stated Motivations for the Early Islamic Expansion (622–641): A Critical Revision of Muslims’ Traditional Portrayal of the Arab Raids and Conquests 1433135280, 9781433135286

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NEW STUDIES ON THE MIDDLE EAST

The Stated Motivations for the Early Islamic Expansion (622–641)

Crosscurrents

Ayman S. Ibrahim, Ph.D., was born and raised in Egypt. He has taught in various countries within the Muslim world, and in the West at undergraduate and graduate levels. He is currently working on his second Ph.D. in the Department of Middle Eastern History at the University of Haifa, Mount Carmel, and is examining conversion to Islam in the earliest Muslim period. In addition, he is Associate Professor of Islamic Studies at Southern Seminary and Director of the Jenkins Center for the Christian Understanding of Islam. His articles on Islam and Christian-Muslim relations have appeared in the Washington Post, Religion News Services, Colorado Springs Gazette, Louisville Courier-Journal, First Things, Faith Street, Charisma News, Evangelical Interfaith Dialogue Journal, Ethics Daily, among others.

The Stated Motivations for the Early Islamic Expansion (622–641) | IBRAHIM

What motivated the early Islamic conquests? Did the Arabs fight for Allah, or for wealth and dominance? Were the conquerors principally Arabs, or specifically Muslims? Were the Muslim believers motivated by religious zeal to proclaim Islam to the non-Muslims? Consequently, was Islam spread by the sword? This is a question that has crucial implications today. The Stated Motivations for the Early Islamic Expansion (622–641) extensively analyzes the earliest Arabic Muslim sources to answer these and other questions. It relies on over 400 works, including primary sources written by more than 90 medieval Muslim authors, Sunni, Shiite, Sufi, and Mu’tazilite. It explores how medieval Muslim writers represented the early Arab leaders, and how much we can trust their reports. It concludes with an examination of the Qur’ān’s commands regarding fighting and armed jihad, and questions what later commentators suggest about fighting the non-Muslims, specifically how radical Muslim interpretations match or violate Islam’s sacred scripture. This is the first scholarly analysis to focus on the stated motivations for the early Islamic expansion in the first two decades of Islam. It is a valuable resource for courses on Muslim history, introduction to Islam, Islamic origins and texts, classical and modern Islamic thought, Muhammad’s biography, Islamic Caliphates, Muslim-Christian relations, Jews in the Muslim world, Middle Eastern history, and world history. In the age of ISIS, Qaeda, and Boko Haram, this book reflects on how historiographical accounts can inform today’s multi-cultural and multi-religious societies on complex relations, mutual respect, and religious coexistence.

A Critical Revision of Muslims’ Traditional Portrayal of the Arab Raids and Conquests AYMAN S. IBRAHIM

ADVANCE PRAISE FOR

The Stated Motivations for the Early Islamic Expansion (622–641) “It is a pleasure to endorse A yman S. Ibrahim’s The Stated Motivations for the Early Islamic Expansion (622–641), which engages not only classical, but co ntemporary, Arabic Muslim sources regarding the conquests. No recent scholar comes close to matching his total command of Arabic sources, both past and present. The issues he raises concern not only distant history, but contemporary Arab interaction with that history. Ibrahim proves conclusively that—contrary to contemporary apologetic-historical analysis—these initial conquest s were not religious i n nature, nor were they for the sake of self-defense. There can be no doubt about the comprehensiveness of his research, nor about the importance and timeliness of his writing.” —David Cook, Rice University, Author of Understanding Jihad “Based on an impressive amount of sources, this book explores the early documentation of the Muslim conquests, and especially what motivated the Arab leaders and how trustworthy these accounts might be. Ayman S. Ibrahim’s compelling work provides a welcome critical reflection on the early Islamic expansion in the first two decades of Islam.” —Mehdi Azaiez, Katholieke Universiteit Leuven, Author of Le contre-discours coranique “The Stated Motivations for the Early Islamic Expansion (622–641) demonstrates an impressive knowledge of the Muslim medieval and modern literature and came to convincing groundbreaking conclusions in research of early Islam.” —Yaron Friedman, University of Haifa, Author of The Nuṣayrī-ᶜAlawīs “The Stated Motivations for the Early Islamic Expansion (622–641) is a careful study which sheds new light on the earliest Islamic conquests and the development of an Islamic ideolog y of conquest in the days of the Prophet and the first caliphs.” —Gabriel Said Reynolds, University of Notre Dame, Author of The Qur’ān and Its Biblical Subtext “Ayman S. Ibrahim’s reasonable questioning of the traditional Muslim hypothesis about the Arab conquests is welcome for many reasons, not least among them that the hypothesis falsely claims that the conquests were se lf-defense operations for the sa ke of faith pro clamation. He shows convincingly that this claim does not line up with the earliest Muslim narrative sources. Ibrahim’s investigation goes even beyond this, however, to query the reliability and historicity of the Muslim narrative sources themselves.” —Gordon Nickel, University of Calgary, Author of Narratives of Tampering in the Earliest Commentaries on the Qur’ān “At a time of increased conflict between Muslims and non-Mu slims, many are seeking to build peaceful relations by noting traditional Muslim interpretations of the motivation for early Muslim conquests. By carefully analyzing and demonstrating that these interpretations often reflect later political and social contexts Ayman S. Ibrahim frees us to rely on the sacred texts directly to build a case for cordial religious coexistence.” —J. Dudley Woodberry, Dean Emeritus and Senior Professor of Islamic Studies, Fuller Graduate Schools

The Stated Motivations for the Early Islamic Expansion (622–641)

Crosscurrents NEW STUDIES ON THE MIDDLE EAST

R. Kevin Lacey and Sari Nusseibeh General Editors Vol. 3

The Crosscurrents series is part of the Peter Lang Humanities list. Every volume is peer reviewed and meets the highest quality standards for content and production.

PETER LANG

New York  Bern  Frankfurt  Berlin Brussels  Vienna  Oxford  Warsaw

Ayman S. Ibrahim

The Stated Motivations for the Early Islamic Expansion (622–641) A Critical Revision of Muslims’ Traditional Portrayal of the Arab Raids and Conquests

PETER LANG

New York  Bern  Frankfurt  Berlin Brussels  Vienna  Oxford  Warsaw

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Ibrahim, Ayman S. author. Title: The stated motivations for the early Islamic expansion (622–641): a critical revision of Muslims’ traditional portrayal of the Arab raids and conquests / Ayman S. Ibrahim. Description: New York: Peter Lang. Series: Crosscurrents: new studies on the Middle East; vol. 3 ISSN 2381-2443 (print) | ISSN 2381-2451 (online) Includes bibliographical references. Identifiers: LCCN 2017023483 | ISBN 978-1-4331-3528-6 (hardcover: alk. paper) ISBN 978-1-4331-3761-7 (ebook pdf) | ISBN 978-1-4331-3762-4 (epub) ISBN 978-1-4331-3763-1 (mobi) Subjects: LCSH: Muḥammad, Prophet, –632—Military leadership. Islam—History—To 1500. Jihad—History—To 1500. Islamic Empire—History—622–661. Islamic Empire—History, Military. Classification: LCC DS38.1 .I38 | DDC 953.8/02—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017023483 DOI 10.3726/b11356

Bibliographic information published by Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek. Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the “Deutsche Nationalbibliografie”; detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at http://dnb.d-nb.de/.

© 2018 Peter Lang Publishing, Inc., New York 29 Broadway, 18th floor, New York, NY 10006 www.peterlang.com All rights reserved. Reprint or reproduction, even partially, in all forms such as microfilm, xerography, microfiche, microcard, and offset strictly prohibited.

To my treasure, Emily

Contents

System of Transliteration Notes on the Text Definitions of Terms Primary Source Authors in Chronological Order Modern and Contemporary Muslim Authors That Appear in the Study Acknowledgments

xi xiii xiii xiv xvii xix

Chapter One: Introduction 1 Traditional Muslim Approach to Maghāzī and Futūḥ: Essential Background 1 Research Rationale 5 The Research Problem 8 Central Phrase of the Research: Religious Motivation 8 Demarcations of the Research 9 Research Plan, Structure, and Outline 10 Sources and Source Problems: The Crisis of Islamic Studies 11 Research Methodology 12 The Qur’ān 12 The Historical Accounts 13 Notes 14 Works Cited 20

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Chapter Two: Review of Precedent Literature Muslim and Non-Muslim Approaches to the Muslim Sources The Qur’ān Historical Writings: Rise and Development Among the Muslims Source Problems in the Historical Writings: The Crisis of Islamic Studies Arabic Primary Sources Used in This Study:A Survey Muhammad’s Life and Raids: Sīra and Maghāzī Early Muslim Conquests: Futūḥ Literature Early Muslim Histories: Ta’rīkh Literature More Early Muslim Sources Motivations for the Conquests in the Secondary Literature Conclusion Notes Works Cited

24 25 26 28 30 33 34 36 38 40 41 43 44 57

Chapter Three: Muhammad’s Maghāzī and Their Stated Motivations: A Critical Revision of Sīrat Rasūl Allāh Traditional Muslim Approach to Muhammad’s Maghāzī Muhammad’s Raids After the Hijra and Before Badr The Battle of Badr The Battle of Uḥud The Conquest of Mecca Political Situation Between Uḥud and fatḥ Mecca Banū al-Naḍīr The Battle of the Trench Banū Qurayẓa The Raid to Khaybar and Fadak Fatḥ Mecca Conclusion Notes Works Cited

66 67 69 73 80 85 86 87 90 92 94 96 98 100 119

Chapter Four: The Stated Motivations for the Early Futūḥ: From Maghāzī to Futūḥ Through the Ridda Wars: A Critical Revision Precursors of the Early Arab Conquests The Appointment of Abū Bakr at the Saqīfa of Banū Sāᶜida The Ridda Wars Usāma’s Expedition to Syria Khālid’s Expedition to Iraq The Conquest of Syria Al-Azdī al-Baṣrī (d. ca. 165/781)

126 127 127 130 139 141 144 145

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Al-Wāqidī (d. ca. 207/823) Al-Balādhurī (d. ca. 279/892) Al-Yaᶜqūbī (d. 248/897) and al-Ṭabarī (d. 310/923) Critical Observations on the Motivations for Futūḥ al-Shām The Stated Motivation of Abū Bakr The Possible Violation of the Qur’ān The Reported Deeds of Some Commanders The Three Options Given to the Conquered People The Apparent Conspiracy Behind Abū Bakr’s Death and Burial The Conquest of Egypt Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam (d. 257/871) Al-Balādhurī (d. ca. 279/892) Al-Yaᶜqūbī (d. 248/897) Al-Ṭabarī (d. 310/923) Critical Observations on the Motivations for Fatḥ Miṣr Conclusion Notes Works Cited

146 148 149 150 151 152 154 155 156 157 157 159 160 161 162 165 166 190

Chapter Five: Jihad and Qitāl as the Qur’ān Sees Them: Exegeting Islam’s Scripture Exegeting Islam’s Scripture: Jihad and Qitāl in the Qur’ān The Qur’ān on Confrontation with Non-Muslims Jihad and Qitāl in the Qur’ān Kāfirūn and Kuffār Ahl al-kitāb Alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb Fī sabīl Allāh Exegeting the Qur’ān: How Does It All Fit Together? Muslim Mufassirūn on Jihad and Qitāl in the Qur’ān: An Analysis Six Muslim Mufassirūn Fight in Self-Defense and Do Not Attack: Is the Qur’ān Sufficient? No Compulsion in Religion: Yes, but When and How? Fight Them Until There Is No Opposition Fight the People of the Book No Fighting: You Have Your Religion, and I Have Mine Conclusion: The Conflict Between the Qur’ān and Its Commentators Notes Works Cited

197 199 199 201 204 206 208 211 212 213 213 214 216 218 220 221 223 223 232

Chapter Six: Conclusion

236

System of Transliteration

The transliteration system followed in this project is for the most part the one used by the International Journal of Middle East Studies (IJMES) transliteration guide. See their website http://web.gc.cuny.edu/ijmes/pages/transliteration.html for the complete guidelines. I use the English terms known for various Arabic words without transliteration (e.g., jihad, Prophet Muhammad, etc.). I do not use Anglicized plurals, but rather the fully transliterated words (aḥādīth instead of ḥadīths). The initial hamza is always dropped, and the Arabic definite article (al-) is lowercase everywhere unless it is the first word in a sentence. The Arabic tā’ marbūṭa is rendered “a” not “ah” (ᶜarabiyya instead of ᶜarabiyyah), which also refers to the way of rendering the nisba ending. Proper Arabic names are transliterated but not italicized. The short vowels are (a for fatḥa, i for kasra, and u for ḍamma). The long vowels are (ā for alif, ū for wāw, and ī for yā’). The diphthongs are (ay and aw).

Notes on the Text

Definitions of Terms Ahl al-kitāb and alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb: Two Qur’ānic terms refer to the People of the Book or Scripture People, probably Christians and Jews. Anṣār: The term refers to the locals of Medina known as the supporters of Muhammad. They believed his message, and helped him and his followers after their emigration from Mecca. Cf. muhājirūn and hijra. Asbāb al-nuzūl: The term is related to the Qur’ān and means occasions or reasons for the revelations. These are exegetical reports developed by Medieval Muslim writers explaining the context, location, and time of the revelation of a specific Qur’ānic verse or passage. The literary genre began to flourish by the 5th/11th century. Believers: The term, throughout this study, refers to the early followers of the Prophet Muhammad. It better describes them as members of his community, in contrasts with “Muslims.” Futūḥ: These are the military conquests conducted by the Arab commanders after Muhammad’s death during the Caliphate period. The term also refers to the written traditions (futūḥ literature) that deal with the military expeditions. This Arabic term describes the conquests as act of “opening” and liberating the conquered lands. Ḥadīth: This is a report of a saying, teaching, or deed attributed to a religious figure, particularly the Prophet Muhammad. Its plural form is aḥādīth, which are compiled in sets by various Muslim compilers.

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Hijra: This refers to the emigration of Muhammad and his followers from Mecca to Medina. It took place in the year 622 in the Julian calendar, which was later adopted by the second Caliph ᶜUmar as the starting year of the Muslim lunar calendar known as Hijri dating. Kāfirūn: This is a plural form of kāfir, which means an infidel, faithless, or unbeliever. Other plural forms are kuffār and kafara. Maghāzī: This term refers to the raids, incursions, or expeditions organized, led, or commissioned by Muhammad after he emigrated from Mecca to Medina. It also refers to Muhammad’s life generally. This term was later developed to sīra (biography). The noun maghāzī is plural of ghazwa. Its verbal form is ghazā, which means to invade. Mufassirūn (sg. Mufassir): This refers to Muslim exegetes of the Qur’ān. Muḥaddithūn (sg. muḥaddith): The transmitters or scholars of ḥadīth; experts in traditions, and thus traditionists. Muhājirūn: These are the Meccan emigrant Believers, who were the earliest to believe in Muhammad’s message. Under the hostile persecution of the pagan Meccans, they were forced to leave their homes and emigrate with Muhammad to Medina, in the event called the hijra. Munāfiqūn (sg. Munāfiq): The term refers to “lukewarm Believers” or “uncommitted Muslims,” yet commonly translated “hypocrites.” Mushrikūn (sg. Mushrik): The term is best translated as associaters, those associating partners with Allah. It is commonly understood as polytheists. Sīra: This means biography, especially when linked to Muhammad. Linguistically, the word refers to behavior, deeds, and conduct. Ṭabaqāt (sg. Ṭabaqa): Classes or generations of the Believers. Tafsīr: The word means “explanation,” and refers to a commentary on the Qur’ān, or more generally the branch of Qur’ānic commentary within the Islamic sciences. Ta’rīkh: The term refers to historiography, which is writing about the past. It is the literary genre that represents what Muslims believe to have happened in their tārīkh (past). Traditionalists: The term throughout this study usually refers to Muslims adopting a traditional and mostly conservative approach towards Islamic origins. When used in relation to non-Muslim authors, it similarly refers to those who are more likely to view the sources as authentic. Umma: The term refers to the community of Muhammad’s followers, signifying their unity through the ideological bond of their faith.

Primary Source Authors in Chronological Order Sulaym Ibn Qays (d. 76/695) Mujāhid ibn Jabr (d. ca. 104/722) Ibn Shihāb al-Zuhrī (d. 124/741) Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba (d. 141/758) Abū Ḥamza al-Thumālī al-Shīᶜī (d. 148/767) Ibn Isḥāq (d. 150/767)

notes on the text 

uqātil ibn Sulaymān (d. 150/767) M Sufyān al-Thawrī (d. 161/778) Azdī al-Baṣrī (d. ca. 165/781) Sayf Ibn ᶜUmar (d. ca. 180/796) ᶜAbdullah ibn al-Mubārak (d. 181/797) Ibn al-Ḥasan al-Shaybānī (d. ca. 184/805) Abū Isḥāq al-Fazārī (d. after 185/802) Yaḥyā ibn Ādam al-Qurashī (d. 203/818) Ibn al-Kalbī (d. 204/819) Abū ᶜAbdullāh al-Shāfiᶜī (d. 204/820) Muḥammad ibn ᶜUmar al-Wāqidī (d. ca. 207/823) ᶜAbd al-Razzāq al-Ṣanᶜānī (d. 211/744) ᶜAbd al-Malik ibn Hishām (d. ca. 218/833) Abā ᶜUbayd al-Qāsim ibn Sallām (d. 224/837) Muḥammad ibn Saᶜd (d. 230/844) Muḥammad ibn Sallām al-Jumaḥī (d. 231/845) Muṣᶜab ibn ᶜAbdullāh al-Zubayrī (d. 236/851) Khalīfa ibn Khayyāṭ (d. 240/854) Ḥārith al-Muḥāsibī (d. 243/857) Ibn Ḥabīb al-Baghdādī (d. 245/860) Ḥamīd ibn Zanjawayh (d. 251/865) Muḥammad ibn Ismāᶜīl al-Bukhārī (d. 256/870) Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam (d. 257/871) Muḥammad al-Faḍl ibn Shādhān (d. 260/874) Imām Muslim (d. 261/874) ᶜUmar ibn Shabba (d. 262/875) Abū Dāwūd al-Sijistānī (d. 275/889) Ibn Qutayba al-Dīnawarī (d. 276/889) Yaᶜqūb ibn Sufyān al-Fasawī (d. 277/890) Abū ᶜĪsā al-Tirmidhī (d. 279/892) Aḥmad ibn Yaḥyā al-Balādhurī (d. ca. 279/892) Abū Zurᶜa al-Dimashqī (d. 281/894) Abū Ḥanīfa Dīnawarī (d. ca. 282/895) Ibn Hilāl al-Thaqafī al-Shīᶜī (d. 283/896) Sahl al-Tustarī al-Ṣūfī (d. ca. 283/896) Ibn Wāḍiḥ al-Yaᶜqūbī (d. 284/897) Ibn Abī ᶜĀṣim (d. 287/900) Nuᶜaym ibn Ḥammād al-Marūzī (d. 288/901) Abū ᶜAbdullāh Ibn al-Ḍarīs (d. 294/906) ᶜAbdullāh ibn al-Muᶜtaz (d. 296/908) Ibn Khuradādhbih (d. ca. 299/912) Abū al-Ḥasan al-Qummī (d. after 307/919) Abū Jaᶜfar al-Ṭabarī (d. 310/923) Abū Isḥāq al-Zajjāj (d. 311/924)

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I bn Aᶜtham al-Kūfī (d. ca. 314/926) Abū Bakr al-Rāzī (d. ca. 311/925) Abū Jaᶜfar al-Kulaynī (d. ca. 328/939) Ibn ᶜAbd Rabbih (d. 328/940) Abū Muḥammad ibn Yaᶜqūb al-Hamdānī (d. 334/945) Al-Shaykh al-Ṣūlī (d. 335/947) Abū al-Ḥasan al-Masᶜūdī (d. 345/956) Ibn al-Faqīh (d. 4th/10th century) Abū Isḥāq al-Iṣṭakhrī al-Balkhī (d. 350/961) Ibn Ḥibbān (d. 354/965) Abū al-Shaykh al-Aṣbahānī (d. 369/979) Ibn al-Nadīm (d. ca. 385/995) Abū al-Ḥasan al-Sharīf al-Raḍī (d. ca. 406/1015) ᶜAbd al-Malik Abū Saᶜd al-Kharkūshī (d. 407/1016) Al-Shaykh al-Mufīd (d. 413/1022) ᶜAbd al-Jabbār al-Hamadhānī al-Muᶜtazilī (d. 415/1025) Ibn Ibrāhīm al-Thaᶜlabī (d. 427/1035) Abū Nuᶜaym al-Iṣfahānī (d. 430/1038) Abū al-ᶜAbbās al-Najāshī (d. 450/1058) Abū Bakr al-Bayhaqī (d. 458/1066) Muḥammad al-Ṭūsī (d. 460/ 1068) Ibn ᶜAbd al-Barr (d. 463/1071) Abū al-Qāsim al-Qushayrī (d. 465/1072) Abū al-Ḥasan al-Wāḥidī (d. 468/1076) Aḥmad al-Sarakhasī (d. 490/1097) Abū Ḥāmid al-Ghazālī (d. 505/1111) Abū al-Qāsim al-Zamakhsharī (d. 538/1144) Ibn al-Ḥasan al-Ṭabarsī (d. 548/1153) ᶜAbd al-Qādir al-Jīlānī (d. 561/1166) ᶜAbd al-Raḥmān al-Suhaylī (d. 581/1185) Ibn Qudāma al-Maqdisī (d. 620/1223) Yāqūt al-Ḥamawī (d. 627/1229) Abū al-Ḥasan Ibn al-Athīr (d. 630/1233) Sulaymān ibn Mūsā al-Kalāᶜī (d. 634/1237) Abū ᶜAbdullāh al-Qurṭubī (d. 671/1273) ᶜAbdullāh al-Bayḍāwī (d. 685/1286) Ibn al-Muṭahhar al-Ḥillī (d. 726/1325) Ibn Taymiyya (d. 728/1328) Shams al-Dīn al-Dhahabī (d. 748/1348) Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn al-Ṣafadī (d. 764/1363) Ibn Kathīr (d. 774/1373) Ibn Khaldūn (d. 808/1406) Majd al-Dīn al-Fīrūzābādī (d. 818/1415)

notes on the text 

aqī al-Dīn al-Maqrīzī (d. 845/1442) T Ibn Ḥajar al-ᶜAsqalānī (d. 852/1448) Jalāl al-Dīn al-Suyūṭī (d. 911/1505)

Modern and Contemporary Muslim Authors That Appear in the Study Muḥammad ibn ᶜAbd al-Wahhāb (1703–1792), Saudi Rashīd Riḍā (1865–1935), Lebanese Muḥammad Ḥussayn Haykal (1888–1956), Egyptian ᶜAbbās Maḥmūd al-ᶜAqqād (1889–1964), Egyptian Ṭāhā Ḥusayn (1889–1973), Egyptian Maḥmūd Abū Rayya (1889–1970), Egyptian Khayr al-Dīn al-Ziriklī (1893–1976), Lebanese Muḥammad ᶜAbd al-Laṭīf Ibn al-Khaṭīb (1900–1981), Egyptian Muḥammad Ḥusayn al-Ṭabāṭabā’ī (1904–1981), Iranian Sayyid Abū al-Aᶜlā Mawdūdī (1903–1979), Indian ᶜUmar Riḍā Kaḥḥāla (1905–1987), Syrian Sayyid Quṭb (1906–1966), Egyptian Jawwād ᶜAlī (1907–1987), Iraqi Ḥusayn Mu’nis (1911–1996), Egyptian Muḥammad Mitwallī al-Shaᶜrāwī (1911–1998), Egyptian Muḥammad Yūsuf al-Kāndahlawī (1917–1965), Indian ᶜAbd al-ᶜAzīz al-Dūrī (1919–2010), Iraqi Aḥmad Ibrāhīm al-Sharīf (1926–), Egyptian Yūsuf al-Qaraḍāwī (1926–), Egyptian Muḥammad Arkūn (1928–2010), Algerian French Khalīl ᶜAbd al-Karīm (1930–2002), Egyptian Ilyās Shūfānī (1932–2013), Palestinian Hādī al-ᶜAlawī (1933–1998), Iraqi Zaghloul el-Naggar (1933–), Egyptian Hichem Djait (1935–), Tunisian Muḥammad ᶜĀbid al-Jābrī (1936–2010), Moroccan ᶜAbdallāh ibn Aḥmad al-Qādirī (1937–), Yemeni ᶜAbd al-Hādī ᶜAbd al-Raḥmān (1930s–) Muḥammad Khayr Haykal (1941–), Syrian Ṣafī al-Raḥmān al-Mubārakpūrī (1943–2006), Indian Naṣr Ḥāmid Abū Zayd (1943–2010), Egyptian ᶜAlī al-Kūrānī al-ᶜĀmilī (1944–), Lebanese Jaᶜfar Murtaḍā al-ᶜĀmilī (1945–), Lebanese ᶜAzīz al-ᶜAzmeh (1947–), Syrian

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Sayyid Maḥmūd al-Qimany (1947–), Egyptian Sheikh ᶜAlī Jumᶜa (1951–), Egyptian Samī ibn ᶜAbdullāh al-Maghlūth (1963–), Saudi Rāghib al-Sirjānī (1964–), Egyptian

Acknowledgments

I never thought I would work on a Ph.D., nor write a dissertation—let alone that it would investigate Islamic Studies, or precisely Islamic History. Just consider the obvious: my bachelor degree is in electrical engineering, with an emphasis on electronics and telecommunications. Looking back on my career and how I came thus far, now working on a second Ph.D. focusing on Islamic History (again), I am grateful for the family, friends, teachers, and others who have generously helped, supported, and encouraged me. Getting a Ph.D. and writing a dissertation can hardly be done alone. This is why I sit down and write with joy about those who sacrificially loved and supported me. I fear that I have unintentionally overlooked some who have helped me, but I am truly thankful and indebted to you. I was born in a majority-Muslim country, Egypt, and have many Muslim friends. My journey toward a Ph.D. began in 2008 at the suggestion of three professors who noticed my love for teaching: Keith Eitel (Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary), Martin Accad (Institute of Middle East Studies), and Elie Haddad (Arab Baptist Theological Seminary). Their suggestion was the triggering signal for me to consider pursuing this painstaking degree. My parents’ loving support propelled me forward, even though this undertaking meant I would need to remain in the United States instead of with them in Egypt. Although my dad did not live to see me hold my Ph.D. diploma, I am certain he would have been proud

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of his son. I imagine him telling his repeated jokes about how crazy I was to turn down his business career as an artistic carpenter to follow my piles of books. As I began my Ph.D. in 2010, I was introduced to three exceptional professors in particular who remarkably transformed and enhanced my intellectual journey. Professor Chase Robinson (CUNY) was the first to teach me Islamic historiography. At our first meeting, he asked me to read 60 books in a very short time, so that he would consider working with me. In that same meeting, even though I am a native Arabic speaker, he corrected my pronunciation of Arabic names—I was both impressed and embarrassed. I am glad he did not forsake me, as I know he is painfully busy, and I am honored that his fingerprint is on my work. His critique and thoughtful insights helped me tremendously, even after I completed my studies and decided to pursue a postdoctoral degree. As I began studying the Qur’ān and Muslim commentators, Professor Gabriel Said Reynolds (Notre Dame) stepped into my life with an exceptional knowledge in Qur’ānic studies and tremendous kindness, making time for frequent communication in the midst of his family, writing, and teaching obligations. When I attended his class, I was astonished at his creativity and teaching style as well as his humbleness and apparent care for his students. He keeps asking me to call him by his first name and insists there is no need for titles, but I am simply unable, as I tremendously value and appreciate him. He continues to inspire me on many levels in my education and teaching. Once I knew I needed to examine Muhammad’s raids, I connected with a walking encyclopedia: Professor David Cook (Rice University). Once he agreed to work with me, a wealth of knowledge in Islamic literature was in my hand. He introduced me to a multitude of primary sources, and pointed me to valuable secondary studies that complemented and supported my analysis. Even during his travels overseas, he dedicated time to me, correcting many of my mistakes. He was willing to meet with me whenever possible, and he of fered advice and guidance, which went beyond dissertation writing. I am grateful to him as a teacher and also, as it turns out, a dear friend. These three professors helped form the core of my dissertation, and for this I am wholeheartedly indebted to them. At Fuller Graduate School, four professors in particular were vital to my work. My dissertation was supervised by the exceptional dean emeritus Dudley Woodberry, who was also my overall supervisor. He meticulously read through each sentence I wrote, made remarks, and greatly encouraged me to keep going. His words and character model an example of committed and supportive teaching. I cannot thank him enough. Before Woodberry, Martin Accad supervised my work in my first year at Fuller and uniquely and significantly helped me shape my topic in its early stages. I am thankful for him as a constant supporter and advocate.

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Alongside Woodberry and Accad, I learned a great deal from Professor Evelyne Reisacher, particularly on contemporary Islam and modern reformed Muslims. Her observations in my mid-program defense were very insightful and served as key elements in shaping my work. I am tremendously grateful for her continued encouragement of my research. Furthermore, Professor Sherwood Lingenfelter’s sharp thinking and critical observation proved most helpful outside the field of Islamic Studies. He challenged me greatly and helped me think beyond my immediate context. In addition to these four professors at Fuller, there are two more who, although they did not directly influence my dissertation, helped me significantly as I began my academic career. Thanks to Professor David Bundy for the joy he brought to my heart every time we talked about history in French or about Egypt’s Copts, or the pre-Islamic Arabian kingdoms. Thanks also to Professor Jehu Hanciles. He brutally challenged me in the early months of my Ph.D., but his insights helped me tremendously. I could have not reached this point without their challenging remarks and supportive words. This book is a modified version of my initial 2014 dissertation. After I wrote it, I needed to refine, modify, and add to it, as valuable scholarly works are constantly being published. Its current form is a result of the help and investment I received from two great professors from Haifa University , Uriel Simonsohn and Avner Giladi. As I work with them on my second Ph.D., they have challenged me and pushed me in areas I never explored before. Uriel, as my direct advisor, has pushed me in various ways that I value and appreciate. I am convinced that I have learned something from every conversation I have had with him over the past two years. Just before sending this book for publication, three gifted and generous scholars read the entire manuscript to provide scholarly observations and insightful corrections: Liran Yadgar (Yale University), David Johnston (University of Pennsylvania), and R. Kevin Lacey (Binghamton University). I am greatly indebted to them for improving my work. Of course, none of them is responsible for my shortcomings or my utilization of their suggestions. This study, if it contains anything of value, is a result of not only the support of exceptional professors, but that of colleagues and friends. I cannot separate my education from my daily interactions with many who do not necessarily work on similar degrees. Among those, I want to thank: Robert and Glenda Kraus, for their generosity and constant support; Tim and Katie Yee, for their genuine friendship, and the quality in-depth conversations; Matthew Krabill, for always being available when I needed a friend; Dave Scott, for being exceptionally kind and knowledgeable in administrative matters at Fuller; Mike Karim, for bringing joy and smiles to me in the long hours of study , painstaking deadlines, and exams;

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Suzanne See and her husband Chris, for their continuous encouragement of my writing, and particularly for her editing skills; Brent Neely, for great academic discussions and the constant intellectual ideas; George Martin, for offering valuable editorial suggestions on Chapter Three; Forrest Strickland, for proofreading my dissertation in its initial draft; Moonlight Martin, for her excellent job editing the entire manuscript and preparing it for publication; Michal Meulenberg, my Dutch friend, for always living what she believed about Muslims, and for providing a living testimony of how love works in multi-religious communities; Oksana Boyko, my Russian friend, for providing cultural discussions and for always calling me akhī (brother); and Josi Hwang, my Peruvian friend, for becoming a very dear friend to me and my wife in California. This brings me to the sweetest person I got to know during my Ph.D. studies, who eventually became my wife. One day in March 2012, I flew from Los Angeles to speak in a conference in Dallas, Texas. There I met Emily, and suddenly life became truly meaningful. After a few meetings with her, I was absolutely astonished at her joyous heart, unique laughter, thoughtful character, excellent decision-making, and exceptional love and attitude toward others, especially the underprivileged. She made my life brighter, better, more meaningful, and significantly faster. I completed my Ph.D. 15 months after our wedding, and immediately began my second Ph.D. She moved between states and countries with me without complaining or showing any hesitancy. What a noble wife she is! With her support and constant belief in me, I am able to do what I am doing. Of all the people who supported me as I wrote this dissertation, it was she who helped the most. My sisters, Hanaa and Fayqa, have been always supportive. Without them, I would not have survived my first Ph.D. or been able to pursue postdoctoral studies. I am indebted to them beyond words for their love and support. Pursuing a Ph.D. can cause a tremendous financial burden. I am, therefore, sincerely grateful for the help I received from two entities: ScholarLeaders International and the Jenkins Center at Southern Seminary. The former supported me for three years throughout my Ph.D., and the latter contributed to help me refine my dissertation for publication. I am humbled by their commitment to my education and their trust in me. I am grateful for their gifts, without which I would not have reached this point. To all, shukran.

Ayman S. Ibrahim Amman, Jordan, July 7, 2016

chapter

one

Introduction

Traditional Muslim Approach to Maghāzī and Futūḥ: Essential Background “Islam is the jihad for the sake of peace. Muhammad’s jihad at Mecca was for Islamic preaching, and at Medina to protect and defend it. The aim of his jihad in both places was only to proclaim Allah’s message.” —M uḥammad Ḥ ussayn H aykal (1888–1956), P h .D., M inister of E ducation in E gypt “Muslims used warfare only in self-defense.” —A bubakr A sadulla (1970–), P h .D., C alifornia S tate U niversity “Islam did not spread by the sword, but by the charitable preaching and the procla mation of the truth.” —Z aghloul E l -N aggar (1933–), P h .D., E gyptian M uslim apologist

The question “was Islam spread by the sword?” is usually raised in conversations or debates that circle around the early Muslim conquests. This question is misleading. It confuses the expansion of the Arab Empire with the conversion of the conquered people to Islam. Although misleading, the question is valid: Was

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proclaiming Islam, the new faith of the conquering Arabs, the motive behind the early conquests? The common traditional Muslim answer is affirmative, stretching from contemporary views back to the modern era and the inaugural generations. In his 2012 article on al-Futūḥāt al-islāmiyya (The Muslim Conquests), the Grand Mufti of Egypt, Sheikh ᶜAlī Jumᶜa (1951–), asserts that al-futūḥāt al–ᶜaẓīma … kānat ᶜāmilan kabīran fī nashr al-islām bi-samāḥatih wa ᶜadlih fī rubūᶜ al– ᶜālam (the great conquests … were a significant factor in the spread of Islam with its tolerance and justice throughout the world).1 Egypt’s Grand Mufti seems to view the primary purpose of the early conquests as spreading Islam and its values. Yūsuf al-Qaraḍāwī (1926–), head of the International Union of Muslim Scholars (IUMS), believes the Muslim conquests had three aims: suppression of Byzantine and Persian tyranny, which prevented their people from accepting the call of Islam, protection of the Islamic State through preventive wars, and liberation of the conquered people.2 Al-Qaraḍāwī’s main argument rejects political dominion and economic gain as motives behind the conquests. In addition to contemporary Muslim writings, this opinion is also present in modern Muslim works.3 In his apologetic explanation of jihad and its connection with waging wars, ᶜAbbās Maḥmūd al-ᶜAqqād (1889–1964) insists the motives were religious in nature—to spread ādāb al-ᶜaqīda al-islāmiyya (the ethics of the Islamic tenets), aiming to offer justice, tolerance, and protection for the poor.4 Similarly, the well-known Egyptian Muslim historian Aḥmad al-Sharīf contends that the motivation for Muhammad’s raids was to proclaim al-daᶜwa al-islāmiyya (the Islamic preaching).5 Many classical Muslim writers offer a similar interpretation. Abū al-Rabīᶜ Sulaymān al-Kalāᶜī, an Andalusian Mālikī Muslim historian (d. 634/1237), points out that, through Muhammad’ s raids, aᶜazz Allāh al-īmān wa-l-mu’minīn (Allah strengthened the faith and the believers).6 Al-Kalāᶜī portrays the military campaigns in religious terms, suggesting that Allah used the raids to build up the ranks of the faithful. Ibn Taymiyya (d. 728/1328) is another classical example. In defending Islam against Christianity, he maintains that Allah sent Muhammad not only to the Arabs of the Arabian Peninsula, but also to the People of the Book. This, Ibn Taymiyya observes, suggests the reason for the raids was calling al-yahūd wa-l-naṣārā ilā al-īmān bi-h (the Jews and Christians to believe in him [Muhammad]).7 He explains that Allah revealed the Verse of the Sword (Q 9:5) to enforce jihād al-mushrikīn wa jihād ahl al-kitāb (striving [against] the associaters [polytheists] and the People of the Book).8 Ibn Taymiyya portrays the military raids, specifically those of Muhammad, as religious in nature. Traced throughout history, this much is clear—the traditional Muslim approach that portrays the Muslim military campaigns as religiously motivated, is advanced in classical, modern, and contemporary writings.

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In essence, this traditional approach functions apologetically. In addition to the suggested religious motivation, the writers also portray early military activities as legitimate campaigns of self-defense. Ṭāhā Ḥusayn (1889–1973) declares that the conquests launched under the leadership of Abū Bakr continued what Muhammad had already begun to defend the Muslim lands.9 He observes that Muhammad was aware of the readiness of some Arab Christians in bilād al-Shām (Greater Syria) to invade the Muslims; thus, the two battles of Mu’ta and Tabūk served as an attempt to force naṣārā al-ᶜarab fī al-Shām (the Arab Christians in Greater Syria) away from the Arabian Peninsula. According to Ḥusayn, once Abu Bakr became the Caliph, his zeal to fulfill Muhammad’s exact plan motivated his immediate preparation of the armies to march to Syria.10 Ḥusayn appears to view the raids and conquests as preventive. Sayyid Abū al-Aᶜlā Mawdūdī (1903–1979), a noted though controversial Islamist thinker, contrasts Muslim conquests with non-Muslim wars. The Muslim conquests were fī sabīl Allāh (for Allah’s sake), while non-Muslim wars were for the sake of fulfilling the “despicable lust, wicked desires, and reprehensible ambitions” of the commanders.11 He contends that the Muslim military activities had nothing to do with al-sayf wa-l-qitāl (sword and fighting), except for self-defense. In agreement with Mawdūdī, Muhammad Abdel Haleem asserts that non-Muslims often misunderstand the Qur’ānic term jihād. They wrongly connect it with holy war, but “the truth is that this generic term for ‘effort’ [jihad] has nothing specifically military about it.”12 Abdel Haleem, born in Egypt in the 1930s and educated at al-Azhar, portrays the military Muslim activities as self-defense, affirming that, “The Qur’ān simply reassured the Muslims that they could defend themselves when attacked.”13 Ṣafī al-Raḥmān al-Mubārakpūrī (1943–2006) maintains that Muhammad’s raids were for the “Muslims to gain freedom to live peacefully and spread Islam without restrictions.”14 He observes that in Islam, War is a way of bringing victory to the oppressed and suppression to the oppressor; it is a way to extend security and peace on earth, and a means to establish justice, rescue the weak from the clutches of the strong, and release people from worshippingal-ᶜibād (servants, meaning created beings in contrast with the Creator) in order to worship Allah, moving them from the injustice of the [other] religions to the justice of Islam.15

Finally, the Yemeni scholar ᶜAbdullāh ibn Aḥmad al-Qādirī (1937–), in his lengthy dissertation titled al-Jihād fī sabīl Allāh: Ḥaqīqatuh wa ghāyatuh, expands the reasoning for Muhammad’s raids past self-defense, suggesting a fulfillment of obligation for past and present Muslims. He links jihad and qitāl fī sabīl Allāh (fighting for Allah’s cause). He insists that Islam is a “universal religion” and that “all people must embrace it”; it is thus a farḍ (duty and obligation) for every Muslim to proclaim it through jihad and qitāl.16 Though al-Qādirī expands the reasons

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for the military expeditions, he is in one accord with the traditional interpretation—religious motivations drove the early raids and battles. Obviously, not all Muslim scholars adopt this traditional interpretation. Some, instead, suggest socioeconomic and political reasons for the maghāzī and futūḥ. Sayyid Maḥmūd al-Qimany (1947–) and Khalīl ᶜAbd al-Karīm (1930–2002) are among those self-identifying Muslim scholars who voice this disagreement. Al-Qimany understands the political expansion of the early Muslim umma (community) as “a call for a national unity under the leadership of a prophet, [who is] the founder of one central state.”17 He portrays Muhammad as a shrewd leader and skillful warrior capable of determining when to create or dissolve alliances, and when war was necessary or unnecessary. Al-Qimany rejects the traditional interpretation that certain Muslim victories in battle were due to Allah’s support.18 ᶜAbd al-Karīm, like al-Qimany, portrays the Muslim conquests as invasions by al-ghuzāt al-ᶜarab (Arab invaders), who sought al-amwāl (the money and possessions) of the conquered lands. Conquests resulted in Muslim invaders gaining enormous wealth while conquered peoples starved.19 ᶜAbd al-Karīm illustrates the military operations at various points during the early conquests as campaigns of qatl, saby, taḥrīq, hadm, istiṣfā’ al-amwāl (killing, taking people captive, burning, destroying, plundering possessions).20 Quoting classical Arabic sources, he concludes that the conquering armies “killed men even after they gave in, cap tured women and maids, burned castles and destroyed the remnants, plundering possessions of all kinds, forcing taxes on conquered people, and such.”21 While ᶜAbd al-Karīm and al-Qimany self-identify as Muslims, they reject the traditional approach to the maghāzī and futūḥ. A sharp contrast exists within the Muslim community regarding what motivated the maghāzī and futūh. The voices of some authors, including ᶜAbd al-Karīm and al-Qimany, conflict with the traditional interpretation. The pressing question follows: Which approach is more faithful to Muslim historical accounts? Which claims seem to properly represent the picture portrayed in the narratives of Islamic origins? Is the traditional interpretation upheld by the earliest Muslim reports? To answer these questions critically, this study will examine the earliest Muslim historical accounts. Though it was the business of classical Muslim writers to create religious works, which represented Allah at work in and through the umma, it is impossible to view themaghāzī and futūḥ as having primarily religious motives (proclamation of a Muslim message or seeking to convert the conquered people to the new faith of the conquering armies). Qualifying this statement with the word “primarily” is intentional. While the Arab armies were unified under the banner of Islam, I will ar gue that the traditional Muslim view of expeditions as religious liberation and proclamation rings hollow when one considers the extant sources. Indeed, Muhammad added a religious element to the tribal concept of

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raiding: When the Muslims won, it was Allah who gave the victory; when they lost, it was a lesson of obedience to Allah and his apostle. My contention in this book is that the Arab incursions and caravan raids quickly transformed into fighting in Allah’s path. Those who died in the battles were martyrs admitted into paradise. This religious element gave cohesion to those believers associated with the umma of Muhammad. Their military raids continued after the hijra, as the tribal incursions did before, but now with added religious significance. Yet despite that ideological overlay, the Muslim historical accounts can hardly support the tradi tional Muslim interpretive claim that the maghāzī and futūḥ were fundamentally religious campaigns of self-defense to proclaim a divine message, seeking the liberation and conversion of non-Muslims.

Research Rationale This introduction highlights some of the discord within the Muslim community regarding the Islamic expansion phenomenon. Though both sides of the discussion rely on the same Arabic sources, each arrives at different (and sometimes contradictory) conclusions. While divergent interpretations are expected when examining ancient texts, the importance of robust and thorough historical work remains indis pensable. Scholars must develop rigorous arguments from the sources to substantiate their interpretations. Though texts must be approached with caution and care, and while acknowledging the context in which the text was written, one must develop historical arguments based upon the texts themselves. To be historically persuasive, a contemporary historical argument must capture the meaning of the original texts. This study seeks to navigate the ongoing discussion on the stated motivations of the early raids and conquests. It aims to critically test the traditional interpretation of the religious motivati on for the maghāzī and futūḥ. Acknowledging the existence of various arguments and theories in non-Muslim secondary works,22 my goal is to test the Muslim hypothesis against the background of their own sources. This work will engage and test the traditional approach by relying heavily on the mass corpus of ancient Muslim accounts. Some authors (essentially religious enthusiasts) adopt a hyper-traditional interpretive approach, and attempt to communicate a message, which is unsupported by the actual text. In these instances, the authors do not value the actual text with highest priority; instead, they convey the interpretation they want their audience to believe. These interpreters diligently labor to portray the expansion of the Islamic State23 in a manner that appeals to the contemporary understanding of wars. They insist on perpetuating untested claims about early Islamic expansion, in order to present a message, which resonates with Western postmodern culture.

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Hence, various religious apologists insist that al-dawla al-islāmiyya (the Islamic State) did not expand by the sword.24 This proposition fails to distinguish between the expansion of the Islamic State and the conversion of the conquered people to Islam. This argument also ignores descriptions of the brutal deeds, which took place during the process of expansion: the destruction of lands, burning of fields, enslaving women and children, incursions against unarmed people, smiting their necks, and massacres of tribesmen.25 These deeds must be viewed within the framework of military expansion, rather than religious proclamation. Failing to give ample consideration to the sources, those authors event ually hurt the image of Islam by linking political dominion to religious proclamation. Other Muslim writers propose that the military activities primarily sought to free the conquered people from tyrannical rulers (specifically the Byzantines and Persians) by bringing the light, mercy, and tolerance of the Muslim faith. This pleasant rendering is tendentious and necessitates caution and careful enquiry. Ṭāhā Ḥusayn describes the coming of Muhammad as hudā wa nūr (guidance and light) to mankind because the oppressed peoples were waiting for the “heavenly power” of Allah which would surpass Caesar’s dominion.26 As for the conquests after Muhammad’s death, Ḥusayn argues that the Caliph ᶜUmar was not delighted by the spoils of wars per se, but rather by “the victory of the Muslims, the spread of the light of Allah on earth, and the supremacy of the word of Islam. He was satisfied that the Muslims, through the spoils of wars, could reach a better station of life after they lived for years in harsh circumstances.”27 Like Ḥusayn, Muḥammad Haykal (1888–1956) explains that al-Islām huwa al-jihād fī sabīl al-salām (Islam is jihad for the sake of peace), and argues that Muhammad’s Medinan raids were fī sabīl al-salām (for the sake of peace). Their goals, according to Haykal, were li-ḥimāyatihā wa-l-difāᶜ ᶜanhā (to protect [Medina] and defend it) and “to proclaim Allah’s message to the people completely.”28 Haykal views the raids as a mechanism which spread Islam to non-Muslims, specifically the pagans of Quraysh and the Jews of Medina. He additionally maintains that Muhammad hated fighting and preferred peace ṭūl ḥayātih (all his life)—the Prophet only resorted to fighting for al-difāᶜ ᶜan al-ḥurriyya difāᶜan ᶜan al-dīn wa ᶜan al-ᶜaqīda (defending freedom, and protecting the religion and [its] tenets).29 In this study, I enter into the Muslim community’ s ongoing examination of the motives behind the military campaigns during and after Muhammad’s life (1/622–20/641). I approach the historical Muslim sources with uncertainty regarding their reliability—an uncertainty which is typical in contemporary non-Muslim critical analysis of the Arabic medieval sources. I use Muslim classical sources to converse with Muslims, taking their traditional arguments on their own terms. Although there are problems found in the sources, they remain essential to any thorough assessment of traditional Muslim claims.

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I must make three caveats. First, early Muslim narrators produced numerous literary texts, covering various genres. These texts provide us with an aesthetic picture of the emergence of Islam. I am aware that some may disagree with my reading of these texts. Given the nature of this study, there is no possible way that my reading will appeal to everyone.30 Second, I am aware of the two major scholarly camps in Islamic Studies— skeptical and sanguine—and their approaches to Muslim sources. I will discuss some of their arguments briefly in Chapter Two. In this study, however, my highest concern is not whether the stories documented in the Muslim accounts actually happened. I am not concerned with questions of textual reliability and authenticity, nor do I intend to reconstruct a historically accurate course of events.31 I study how these texts inform our understanding and interpretation of the claimed events. Furthermore, I do not intend to justify or condemn the actions of early Arab leaders by modern standards. Third, by focusing on Arab raids and conquests, this work may resemble a polemic attack on a specific faith or particular religious leaders. This is not my intent. Islam is not the sole religious banner under which war and violence have occurred. The Conquest of Canaan and the Crusades are two more examples of bellum sacrum. Though wars said to be carried out by religious zeal have occurred throughout history, it is not within the purview of this work to address those out side of the early maghāzī and futūḥ. This study focuses solely on Muslim historical accounts. Additionally, if a military leader’s negative behavior is examined, this does not negate honorable actions by the same individual in other texts. This study avoids sweeping generalizations about key Arab leaders, an endeavor to which all scholars should ascribe. Due to the nature of historical writing, my analysis focuses on specific incidents, while others are not discussed. Consequently, certain literary aspects and historical manifestations will be exposed, while others are occluded.32 My understanding of religion differs significantly from the traditional interpretation adopted by Muslims, who view religion and its proclamation in pure and absolute terms. For them, Arab military leaders were piously motivated to proclaim their faith, and the expansion of the Community of Believers was a different kind of expansion, unlike other secular counterparts.33 Their view, in my estimation, is inconsistent with the textual evidence we possess. I view the Arab military leaders, in the period under study , as skillful warriors who were driven by a clear-eyed vision of expansion. These leaders carried out their vision in ways that agreed with their culture and time. We would not expect them to travel throughout the lands to proselytize their faith. To suggest that these armies organized religious seminars calling people to Islam stretches the reader’s credulity. Unfortunately, this is the picture some Muslim authors present.

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With these three caveats, it is my hope to explore honest and fruitful paths of inquiry. I invite readers to engage with this important and ongoing discussion on the stated motivations for the early maghāzī and futūḥ, as we examine a set of texts that provide a communally remembered Muslim past.

The Research Problem The problem this research endeavors to solve is to critically test the Muslim traditional hypothesis concerning the religious motivationfor the early Muslim expeditions (1/622–20/641), by investigating the stated motivations of the early maghāzī and futūḥ. This study seeks to accomplish this by primarily relying on the earliest extant Muslim historical accounts in Arabic, specifically sīra, maghāzī, futūḥ, and ta’rīkh, while also reflecting on the various ways the Qur’ān and its tafsīr collections deal with the terms for fighting.

Central Phrase of the Research: Religious Motivation The phrase “religious motivation” for the raids and conquests is central to this study, as is by now obvious. It refers to the traditional claim that the Arab military activities (particularly the maghāzī and futūḥ) were motivated by the desire of the early Muslims to proclaim their faith, call the non-Muslims to Islam, and liberate the conquered lands from the religious darkness of disbelief. By and large, this phrase reflects an apologetic approach in reading and interpreting the military operations. In this regard, there is an important point to make. Critically speaking, one cannot truly discover or identify the motivation of the military leader for launching the raids, or determine the motivation of the Caliph to send his armies to invade another land. Unearthing the motivations is simply not possible. What I analyze in this study is the Muslim authors’ reports about these military operations, not the personal psychology of the military leaders themselves. I analyze the later representations, upon which the Muslim umma relies in explaining and interpreting the events at the origins of Islam. Some of my critics will hasten to insist that the research has no value, as it does not examine real motivations of Muhammad and his successors. They may complain that my study merely examines reported motivations, which were documented many years after the event. To those critics, I offer a few words of explanation. It is true that we cannot know the actual and real motivations for the Muslim raids and conquests. However, we can be certain of what the Muslim community believes about them. This study is not concerned with history per se, but rather with

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religious history. It is concerned with how Muslims conclusively understand, interpret, and explain their history. To engage with Muslims in a fruitful and constructive discussion, one should engage the discussion on the terms already present— namely, by relying on the numerous extant texts, which shape the memory of the umma. Other critics of this work may ar gue that research on the religious motivation for the raids and conquests is irrelevant as it is blatantly obvious that the Arabs sought power and political dominion as well as economic gain. The same critics may even argue that non-Muslim scholars throughout history have already viewed and interpreted the expansion in non-religious ways (particularly political and economic). To these critics, I respond that classical, modern, and contemporary Muslim traditionalists have commonly rejected non-religious reasons for the early expedi tions. I am aware of the non-Muslim theories, and will discuss them, but in this work I aim to engage Muslims, especially those who adopt traditional approaches and interpretations, in academic dialogue by using their own historical accounts.

Demarcations of the Research To specify the scope of this work, a few points of demarcatio n are necessary and will clarify the reader’s expectations for the work: 1. This research focuses only on the first two decades of the Islamic era, precisely the time period (1/622–20/641), and examines critically the Arab military activities with a specific emphasis on what motivated them as represented in the earliest Muslim primary sources. 2. I recognize that there are different theories and arguments in the secondary (Muslim and non-Muslim) studies regarding the conquests and their motivations, impacts, and reasons for success. I will not examine the conquests’ impacts or causes of success. My focus is on what motivated them during the period under study, based on the major Arabic primary sources (maghāzī, sīra, futūḥ, and ta’rīkh). This shapes my approach, the questions I ask, and the arguments I analyze. I do not intend to present a new theory. Although non-Muslim scholars provide a valued diversity in their theories regarding the motivations for the maghāzī and futūḥ, I am more concerned with the Muslim community’s understanding, interpretation, and portrayal of the expansion found in the earliest historiographical accounts. 3. Concerning Muhammad’s maghāzī in this early period (1/622–11/632), although this study will analyze various raids from dif ferent angles, it will emphasize three major battles led by the Prophet himself against the

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Meccan tribe of Quraysh (Badr, Uḥud, and the Conquest of Mecca). It will also address various other raids he led or commissioned against the Jews in the Ḥijāz, particularly those against the tribes of Banū al-Naḍīr, Qaynuqāᶜ, Qurayẓa, and his incursions against the Jewish settlements at Khaybar and Fadak. 4. As for the early Arab futūḥ in the time period after Muhammad (11/632– 20/641), this study will not focus on the sequence of events, but instead on their motives. The analysis will center on the early stages of futūḥ al-ᶜIrāq, al-Shām, and Miṣr (Iraq, Syria, and Egypt).34 5. I am convinced that the Arabic sources mean to represent what their authors thought, or wanted to convey, rather than to record what actually happened in the early Muslim era.35 While some scholarly studies examine the course of events in an attempt to reconstruct the conquests, this is not my goal. I am concerned with the apparent motivations behind the maghāzī and futūḥ as portrayed in the Muslim tradition. I will not focus on the conflicting reports about the sequence of events, but rather on the accounts concerning what initiated those military campaigns during (1/622–20/641). 6. I am aware that the phenomenon of the expansion of the Muslim umma cannot be reduced to a single motivation, as it should be viewed as one episode contributing to the “historical episodes” of world history in a broader sense.36 However, my goal is to submit the Arabic text of the Muslim histories to an analytical critical assessment, hoping that a faithful-to-the-text result will emerge. The focus is not to discover a new motivation for the Muslim military expeditions, but rather to test the traditional Muslim hypothesis.

Research Plan, Structure, and Outline This research is built on extensive analysis of the Muslim primary sources, examining the extant historical reports on Muhammad’ s maghāzī and the early futūḥ after his death. After the Introduction (Chapter One) and surveying the relevant literature (Chapter Two), I will focus on Muhammad’s sīra and his major maghāzī as documented in the major recognized Muslim sources (Chapter Three).37 After critically analyzing Muhammad’s major raids and expeditions, I will turn to the early Muslim conquests (Chapter Four) as represented in the Muslim accounts of al-Azdī al-Baṣrī (d. ca. 165/781), al-Wāqidī (d. ca. 207/823), Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam (d. 257/871), al-Balādhurī (d. ca. 279/892), Ibn Aᶜtham al-Kūfī (d. ca. 314/926), and others. In addition to the accounts on maghāzī and futūḥ by the abovementioned authors, the analysis in Chapters Three and Four will rely extensively on

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the historiographical sources of al-Yaᶜqūbī (d. 284/897) and al-Ṭabarī (d. 310/923) as well as various other early sources to a lesser degree, including those by al-Bukhārī (d. 256/870), al-Dīnawarī (d. ca. 282/895), Ibn al-Athīr (d. 630/1233), Ibn Kathīr (d. 774/1373), and others. After analyzing the historical accounts of the maghāzī and futūḥ, I will consult the Qur’ān to examine the ideological usage of terms related to raid and fighting, such as jihad and qitāl (fighting) in Allah’s path (Chapter Five). The analysis of the Qur’ānic terms will be based solely on the Qur’ān to emphasize how Islam’s sacred scripture treats these terms. This will be followed by a critical assessment of the interpretations presented by various Muslim commentators, classical and modern, from different doctrinal beliefs: sunnī, shīᶜī, ṣūfī, and muᶜtazilī. The goal of this chapter is to demonstrate what the Qur’ān declares about qitāl (fighting) and waging wars, and how the specific Qur’ānic texts under study are well represented (or misrepresented) by the different Muslim mufassirūn (commentators). With the analysis of the Qur’ānic terms and their interpretations by selected Muslim commentators, this study will have covered the major Muslim texts (sīra, maghāzī, futūḥ, ta’rīkh, Qur’ān, and tafsīr) in their representation and treatment of Muslim expeditions, both historically and ideologically. The following chapter (Chapter Six) will then present a cohesive conclusion.

Sources and Source Problems: The Crisis of Islamic Studies This study analyzes Arabic primary sources; thus, it is worth noting that these sources, at least from a scholarly standpoint, raise various problems. While the “source problems” issue will be discussed in detail in the following chapter, a brief note here regarding how this study handles such problems seems appropriate.38 Most of these Arabic accounts were written or compiled one to several centuries after Muhammad’s death. This brings to question the reliability, authenticity, and validity of these sources. Students of history cannot fully trust the data found in these sources, nor can they be certain about their reconstructed picture of the emergence of Islam and the events, which occurred during the conquests.39 The existence of apparent obscurities and obvious contradictions in the Arabic sources discourages any attempt to reconstruct a precise account of the emer gence of Islam and the early conquests.40 Some basic and fundamental questions cannot be answered, including the names of certain commanders, dates, and sequence of events. Even the great Muslim historian al-Ṭabarī (d. 310/923) bemoans the many discrepancies and contradictions found in the available reports in his day.41 I will mention a few examples to highlight this point. There is uncertainty about the number of the raids

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Muhammad led; some accounts ascribe twenty-six, while others twenty-seven.42 Others claim he fought in nine or eleven raids.43 The texts also differ concerning the number of campaigns he commissioned: Were they thirty-five or forty-eight?44 We are uncertain of the sequence of some events as well as critical dates of very important occasions: Was the conquest of Egypt in A.H. 19, 20, 21, or 25? Each of these dates is mentioned in Muslim accounts.45 There is also inconsistency regarding the date of the Battle of Qādisiyya in Iraq.46 Similarly, it is unclear whether Syria was conquered by preemptive peace treaty or by force. The same goes for the conquest of Egypt. Of course, we can speculate, but we cannot be certain. The question is not whether contradictions and discrepancies exist in the Arabic sources under study, but rather how they will be handled. This study is not concerned with distinguishing the accuracy from fabrication in historical reports, but rather with how the Muslim umma perceived and represented its historical accounts. I am concerned with the Muslim interpretations and descriptions, rather than the reliability and authenticity of their historiographical reports.

Research Methodology In this study, I use two different methods: One with the Qur’ān, and the other with the historical sources (maghāzī, sīra, futūḥ, and ta’rīkh).

The Qur’ān In Chapter Five of this study, I analyze selected Qur’ānic passages related to waging war. My analysis is more like exegeting Islam’s scripture. The purpose of exegeting the Qur’ān is to explain al-Qur’ān bi-l-Qur’ān (the Qur’ān by the Qur’ān), without using post-Qur’ānic materials or relying on later Islamic doctrines. I do so in order to examine the Qur’ān’s teaching about the topics under study, before comparing and contrasting those with the interpretations offered by later Muslim commentators. The idea of interpreting the Qur’ān through the Qur’ān is not novel. I rely primarily on two valuable studies by Toshihiko Izutsu and Daniel Madigan. Izutsu’s goal is “to make the Qur’ān interpret its own concepts and speak for itself,”47 while Madigan examines the incidents where the term kitāb occurs in the Qur’ān, letting the text speak for itself and setting aside any “preconceptions” or “prior judgments about the meaning of the words.”48 I will consult these two works, but use a slightly different procedure of four steps. First, I will begin by studying the morphology (word structure) and syntax (sentence structure) of a term (such as jihad or qitāl) within different Qur’ānic verses in order to determine how it works semantically (its meaning). To identify a basic meaning of the Qur’ānic term under

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study, I will consult Arabic classical dictionaries, such as Lisān al-ᶜarab.49 Second, in order to grasp the semantic category of a term, I will identify occurrences of each term in the Qur’ān, examining and analyzing them to determine their semantic field. Third, following Isutzu’s advice, I will examine whether synonyms or contrasts exist elsewhere in the Qur’ānic text to gain a broader understanding of the semantic category. 50 Finally, I will attempt to articulate the meaning of the Qur’ānic term in question. This meaning will then be compared and contrasted with the conclusions made by various Muslim commentators. There are four important comments to make regarding this methodology. First, the studies of Izutsu and Madigan focus primarily on vocabulary (such as kufr and kitāb, respectively), which is important to my research on the Qur’ān; however, I am more concerned with studying Qur’ānic themes as they relate to the overall study of jihad and qitāl—themes such as ahl al-kitāb (People of the Book), al-kāfirūn (infidels), fī sabīl Allāh (in Allah’s path), among others. These Qur’ānic themes relate to the terms jihad and qitāl in their connection with waging war. Second, the meaning of a Qur’ānic word depends on its position in a sentence and the neighboring words, and for this reason I usually begin with a study of the morphology and syntax.51 Third, it should be noted that the various occurrences of each Qur’ānic term under study are not all of equal value in determining its meaning.52 Fourth, the overarching goal of my analysis of the Qur’ānic jihad and qitāl is summarized by Jules Marouzeau: “rapprocher, comparer, mettre en rapports les termes qui se ressemblent, qui s’opposent, qui se correspondent.”53

The Historical Accounts My approach to the Arabic historical accounts can be divided into three levels.54 First, I examine the Arabic text to discover the stated motivations for the conquests. In this level, I avoid implied motivations. I focus on that which the text relates. From an epistemological standpoint, identifying a clear stated motivation for the specific military campaign takes highest priority in my analysis. After identifying and recognizing it, I will contrast it with the traditional Muslim claim by affirming or disaffirming. Second, I distinguish between the different layers of any stated motivation by asking questions about the source (or the subject) of the command: Is it a stated command by Allah to wage a war? Is it a command by Muhammad? Is it by the Caliph or one of his commanders? I make this distinction to identify how the ideology of war has developed throughout Islamic history, and how it may have differed between the various Muslim authorities. This is followed by questions, which relate to the textual reason this command was given: For what reason was such a command given? Did Allah, Muhammad, or the Caliph state the reason for launching such a campaign? By asking these questions, among others, and

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distinguishing between the possible sources of the command to go to battles, one could test whether traditional Muslim hypotheses correspond to thetextual evidence we possess. Third, sometimes there is no mention of motivation. When this occurs, I will emphasize this absence. Only then will I attempt to identify the implied motivation by examining the factors triggering the military campaign as well as its results, which indicate the plausible motivation. I will ask questions such as: Was there any distinctive Islamic term or ideology promoted during or after the raid or conquest? Was there any proclaimed Qur’ānic theme before that specific military campaign to support launching it? Was there a reference to Islam as a new religion after the military activity? Or in a counter direction: Did the Muslims initiate the war? What appeared to be the first thing they sought before, during, and after the battle? How did they interact with the enemy before and after the battle? What did the military campaign (with its various events) reveal about the religious identity of Muhammad or the Caliph? I will attempt to answer these questions critically. Analyzing the origins and outcomes of the battles, particularly how the victories or defeats were handled, may clarify their specific motives. The entire research rests on a historical qualitative approach. I examine what may seem to be randomly unlinked events and develop a logical explanation, identifying reasons and attempting to interpret incidents, which may have occurred in history. I aim to provide analytical insights concerning the Arabic Muslim text, by collecting a vast number of historical texts to examine them critically.55 Like any other subject in the humanities, one cannot assume that a specific text (even if it is ancient, or perhaps even contemporary to the events it describes) should provide absolute proof. A case can be made, however, for an interpretation, which represents the majority of accounts.

Notes 1. He served as the Grand Mufti of Egypt from 2003 until 2013. He is undoubtedly one of the most influential teachers in the Muslim world. Before his appointment as Grand Mufti, he served as a Professor of Juristic Methodologies at al-Azhar University. See his official website http://www.draligomaa.com/ (accessed May 2, 2016), the article titled al-Futūḥāt al-islāmiyya (The Muslim Conquests). He points out, “in fact, Islam, by spreading its message throughout the world, does not aim for anything except the interests of human beings … spreading light, civilization, and urbanization.” He concludes by affirming that it was never the purpose of Islam to obtain any worldly shameful goals, economic gain, or manifesta tions of wealth and affluence, nor to brag, showing extravagance and arrogance. This same article is also found at the official website of the Ahrām Egyptian newspaper, articles dated July 29, 2012: http://ahram.org.eg/archive/975/2012/7/29/10/163020/219.aspx (accessed May 2, 2016).

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2. See the section of the fatāwā (religious decrees or decisions) of al-Qaraḍāwī on the official website of the IUMS at http://www.iumsonline.net/ar/Default.asp?ContentID=3739&menuID=8 (accessed September 10, 2013). See also his official website http:// www.qaradawi.net/new/Articles-1442 (accessed May 2, 2016). Al-Qaraḍāwī titles his fatwā “The Muslim Conquests: Facts and Misconceptions.” His main point appears to be that Islam was never spread by the sword. 3. In this study, I make a distinction between “contemporary” and “modern,” although even academics occasionally use the two terms interchangeably. The distinction is between contemporary writers and the deceased modern writers of the sixteenth to twentieth centuries. I consider the classical period to stretch from the tenth to the fifteenth centuries. On periodization, see Donner, “Periodization as a Tool of the Historian,” 20–36; Borrut, “Vanishing Syria: Periodization and Power,” 37–68; and to a lesser extent Morony, “Bayn al-Fitnatayn: Problems in the Periodization of Early Islamic History,” 247–251; Goitein, “A Plea for the Periodization,” 224–28. Bibliographical references in this study are presented in abbreviated form (author and the first few words of the title). See Works Cited for publishers and publication places and dates. 4. ᶜAbbās al-ᶜAqqād, Mā yuqāl ᶜan al-Islām, 168–172. In this book, he attempts to refute perceived misconceptions about Islam. 5. Aḥmad al-Sharīf, Makka wa-l-Madīna fī al-jāhiliyya wa ᶜahd al-rasūl, 549–551. Al-Sharīf was one of the well-known Muslim historians of the past century. He taught on Islamic history and civilization in many Arab universities (d. 1980s). In addition to his book Makka wa-l-Madīna, he wrote other important works, such as Dirāsāt fī al-ḥaḍāra al-islāmiyya (1976), Dūr al-Ḥijāz fī al-ḥayāt al-siyāsiyya (1968), al-Dawla al-islāmiyya al-ulā (1965), and others. 6. Abū al-Rabīᶜ Sulaymān al-Kalāᶜī, al-Iktifā’ fī maghāzī rasūl Allāh, 2:3 (hereafter Kalāᶜī 2:3). On al-Kalāᶜī, see Ziriklī, Aᶜlām, 3:136–137; Kaḥḥāla, Muᶜjam, 4:277. See also Carl Brockelmann, Geschichte der Arabischen Litteratur. I am using the Arabic translation Ta’rīkh al-adab al-ᶜarabī, 6:280ff (hereafter Brockelmann 6:280ff). 7. Ibn Taymiyya, al-Jawāb al-ṣaḥīḥ, 1:162. See the English translation of this work by Thomas Michel, A Muslim Theologian’s Response to Christianity. On Ibn Taymiyya, see Ziriklī, Aᶜlām 1:144–145; Kaḥḥāla, Muᶜjam, 1:261. 8. Ibn Taymiyya, al-Jawāb al-ṣaḥīḥ, 1:174. 9. Ṭāhā Ḥusayn, Shaykhān, 16. 10. Ibid., 58–59. Ḥusayn does not always adopt the traditional approach in his writings. In his controversial work Fī al-shiᶜr al-jāhilī, he acknowledges some doubt regarding the authenticity and reliability of the so-called pre-Islamic poetry, which reflects on the Muslim claims regarding the superior language of the Qur’ān. See Ḥusayn, Fī al-shiᶜr al-jāhilī, 19–24. He also affirms that the Qur’ān’s mention of Abraham does not prove that the Patriarch did exist (38). Ḥusayn rejects the exaggeration in exalting the Prophet (84), and seems to affirm, or at least not to oppose, some research that concludes Muhammad might have received assistance from various Arab poets in writing the Qur’ān (94). He questions the authenticity of some aḥādīth (prophetic sayings) and chapters in the Qur’ān, e.g., sūrat al-Jinn (82–83). These views make his book very controversial. 11. Abū al-Aᶜlā Mawdūdī, al-Jihād fī sabīl Allāh, 2–5. This is one of his most influential books. See also his Minhāj al-inqilāb al-islāmī, 52ff. Mawdūdī, like his counterpart in Egypt who

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15.

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1 8. 19.

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founded the Muslim Brotherhood, Ḥasan al-Banna, was a pioneer of twentieth-century political Islam, or Islamism. He founded the famous political party Jamaat-e-Islami (the Islamic Party, or Community) in India and Pakistan. On Mawdūdī and his formative period as an Islamist revivalist, see Nasr, Mawdudi and the Making of Islamic Revivalism, 9–46, and 49ff about Mawdūdī’s revolutionary reinterpretations of the faith. On the Jamaate-Islami, see Ahmad, Islamism and Democracy in India, 137ff, as he explains various developments that took place in the party in precolonial and postcolonial India, and 163ff on how the party reinterpreted and invoked the concept of “jihad in Allah’s kingdom” in relation to democracy and secularism. Abdel Haleem, Understanding the Qur’an, 32. See Abdel Haleem’s introduction in The Qur’ān, xxiii, xxiv. Ṣafī al-Raḥmān al-Mubārakpūrī, Rawḍat al-anwār, 97. Al-Mubārakpūrī (d. 1427/2006) was a conservative Muslim born in Husainabad, and well known as a ḥadīth expert. He wrote and compiled more than sixteen books in Urdu and Arabic. Between 1980 and 1988, he was the chief editor of the monthly Urdu Magazine of the fundamentalist university in India. After that, he joined the Islamic University at Medina. Ibid., 187. Thus, based on his understanding of qitāl (fighting), al-Mubārakpūrī affirms the legitimacy of the Muslim conquests as wars of self-defense to achieve peace and justice. See also Qādirī, al-Jihād fī sabīl Allāh, 1:192–270, as he defines the armed jihad, its manners and ethics before, during, and after the battles. al-Qādirī, al-Jihād fī sabīl Allāh, 1:49–50, 109. See also a similar approach by Khayr Haykal, al-Jihād wa-l-qitāl fī al-siyāsa al-sharᶜiyya, 1:369–579. Al-Qādirī and Haykal are examples of what Khaled Abou El Fadl calls “the puritans” within Islam. See Abou El Fadl, The Great Theft, 5–6, et passim. Khaled Abou El Fadl is an accomplished Islamic jurist and serves as the Omar and Azmeralda Alfi Distinguished Professor in Islamic Law at the UCLA School of Law. Sayyid al-Qimany, al-Ḥizb al-hāshimī, 8. Al-Qimany was born in Upper Egypt, and received his doctorate in sociology of religion in the United States. In his writings, he shows sharp disagreements with fundamentalism and political Islam. His official website is http://quemny.blog.com. In this same book, al-Qimany points out that reading the political and socioeconomic contexts during Muhammad’s time suggests that the expansion of the Islamic State was the fulfillment of the dream of ᶜAbd al-Muṭṭalib, Muhammad’s grandfather, to establish a political unified community in the form of a state (51). For him, the expansion was a national movement driven by economic interests (149). Sayyid al-Qimany, Ḥurūb dawlat al-rasūl, 1:38–40. Khalīl ᶜAbd al-Karīm, Shadwu al-rabāba, 1:71. ᶜAbd al-Karīm was born in Aswan, Egypt. In his youth, he was a member of the Muslim Brotherhood. He received a law degree, and was later known as a skillful lawyer. He defended the Muslim author Naṣr Ḥāmid Abū Zaid when Islamists accused him of apostasy. Ibid., 2:193. Thus, he wonders whether the conquered people embraced the religion of the conquering Muslims voluntarily or compulsorily. He rejects the traditional notion that the conquests were for the sake of worshipping Allah (182), and argues that the conquered people were hastening to convert to the religion of the conquering masters in order to escape the forced duties and obligatory taxes applied by the rulers (182).

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21. Ibid., 2:182, 193. He writes, “I wonder how such actions (seizing people, invasion, plundering whatever was found, and killing every inhabitant including men, women, and children) could possibly guide the conquered people to worship Allah?” (193). 22. For a concise list of theories on the topic over the last two centuries, see Fred Donner, “Introduction,” in The Expansion, ed. idem, xix–xxi, and also xxviii–xxxi. See also his earlier work, The Early Islamic Conquests, 3–9. 23. The term “Islamic State” is used not only in western (or international) scholarship, but also in many of the Arab Muslim works. Muslim authors write of al-dawla al-islāmiyya (Islamic State). See, for instance, Sharīf, Makka wa-l-Madīna, 561, where he writes on the Arab tribes coming taḥt sulṭān dawla wāḥida (under the dominion of one united, or unified, State). Qimany, in Ḥurūb, 2:190, argued that after the hijra, the goal of Muhammad was to bring down ḥukūmat al-mala’ (the notables [Meccan] government) for the sake of establishing dawlat al-rasūl fī Yathrib (the Messenger’s State at Yathrib [Medina]) (191). ᶜAbd al-Karīm observed that the Islamic State founded in Medina was at the expense of the tribe of the Quraysh. See ᶜAbd al-Karīm, Quraysh, 387. As for the non-Muslim scholars using the term, see Donner, “Introduction,” in Expansion, ed. Donner, xv et passim; idem, “The Formation of the Islamic State,” 283–296. 24. See some of the traditional arguments mentioned in the first section of this study, entitled “Traditional Muslim Approach to maghāzī and futūḥ.” See also ᶜAqqād, Mā yuqāl ᶜan al-Islām, 172; Sharīf, Makka wa-l-Madīna, 553–555; Ibn Taymiyya, al-Jawāb al-ṣaḥīḥ, 1:162, 174. 25. For instance, al-Ṭabarī (d. 310/923) reported incidents during the conquest of Syria, and wrote that the commander Khālid aghār ᶜalā ahlihā … faḍarab aᶜnāqihim … wa sabā sabāyā kathīra (raided or attacked its inhabitants … smote their necks … and took many captives). See Abū Jaᶜfar al-Ṭabarī, Annals of the Apostles, ed. Michael Jan de Goeje, 4:2122 (hereafter Ṭabarī 4:2122). See also the report concerning the early stages of the expedition to Persia, where he recounted that Khālid roamed the regions around the Persian southwestern frontier, plundering lands and oppressing people. Ṭabarī 4:2076–2077. For more details, see the following analysis in Chapter Three (on maghāzī Muhammad) and Chapter Four (on futūḥ al-khulafā’). 26. See Ṭāhā Ḥusayn, ᶜAlā hāmish al-sīra, 2:15. Ḥusayn argued that many of the people of the non-Muslim lands were loyal to atheism in their hearts, though showing loyalty to Caesar in public, because of their fear. 27. Ḥusayn, Shaykhān, 172. 28. Haykal, Fī manzil al-waḥy, 427–428, 430. 29. Haykal, Ḥayāt Muḥammad, 235–236. 30. In this regard, I have benefited from Sarah Savant, The New Muslims of Post-Conquest Iran, 26–28. 31. Concerning the Arabic sources and their problems, see below in this chapter the section entitled, “Sources and Source Problems: The Crisis of Islamic Studies,” as well as the “Literature Review” in Chapter Two. 32. Savant, The New Muslims of Post-Conquest Iran, 28. 33. Jocelyne Cesari, “Religion and Politics” Religions 6, no. 4 (2015): 1330–1344. 34. I will not use the word “invasions” to describe the conquests. I prefer the term futūḥ (openings), as it is the term commonly used by the Muslim community to describe the military

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activities during the period under study. I acknowledge that this term represents a Muslim ideology that views the military activities as hudā wa nūr (guidance and light), rather than armed invasions. This term reflects the traditional understanding that the futūḥ were legitimately driven and religiously motivated to liberate the conquered lands from polytheism for the sake of Allah. See Lewis, The Political Language of Islam, 93–94. On the questionable use of the Arabic term futūḥ as conquests, see Donner, “Arabic Fatḥ as ‘Conquest’ and its Origin in Islamic Tradition,” 1–14, where he argues, “The rigid translation as ‘conquest’ is therefore potentially misleading.” Thus, Chase Robinson argues that the sources represent historical accounts, but do not record events, “being representation rather than record.” Robinson, Empire and Elites, viii. I am aware that there are various problems in the Arabic sources (such as the late date of writing, existence of some contradictions and obscurities, and so forth), and I will discuss them not only later in this introductory chapter, but also in more detail in the next chapter. In this regard, I benefited from Busha and Harter, Research Methods in Librarianship, 90, 99, 100, especially the valuable principles on the methodology of historical research discussed in 99–100. The sources on Muhammad’s maghāzī include but are not limited to those of al-Zuhrī (d. 124/742), Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba (d. 141/758), Abū Isḥāq al-Fazārī (d. after 185/802), al-Wāqidī (d. ca. 207/823), Ibn Hishām (d. 218/833), Muḥammad ibn ᶜĪsā al-Tirmidhī (d. 279/892), ᶜAbd al-Malik al-Kharkūshī (d. 407/1016), Abū Nuᶜaym al-Iṣfahānī (d. 430/1038), al-Bayhaqī (d. 458/1066), al-Suhaylī (d. 581/1185), and al-Kalāᶜī (d. 634/1237). These are some of the classical Muslim authors who wrote specifically about Muhammad’s raids and life. Of course, many other works can be added to this list as we examine Muhammad’s sīra and maghāzī, particularly ta’rīkh, ṭabaqāt, shamā’il, and others. For some details on these authors and their writings, see two important works in Arabic on Islamic historiography: ᶜAbd al-ᶜAzīz al-Dūrī, Baḥth fī nash’at ᶜilm al-ta’rīkh ᶜind al-ᶜArab (Beirut 1960) which was translated as The Rise of Historical Writing among the Arabs by Conrad in 1983; Shākir Muṣṭafā, al-Ta’rīkh al-ᶜarabī wa-l-mu’arrikhūn (3rd ed. 1983). As for valuable studies in English, see Erling L. Petersen, ᶜAlī and Muᶜāwiya (1964); Rosenthal, A History of Muslim Historiography (1968); Humphreys, Islamic History (1991); Tarif Khalidi, Arabic Historical Thought in the Classical Period (1994); Donner, Narratives of Islamic Origins (1998); Robinson, Islamic Historiography (2003). See also the excellent review article by Robinson, “The Study of Islamic Historiography: A Progress Report” (1997). Concerning the sources and their problems (the late date of writing, apparent obscurities, and obvious contradictions), see Donner, “Introduction,” in The Expansion, ed. idem, xxvii–xxxi; idem, Narratives, 1–5; Kaegi, Byzantium, 2–5, 8–14; idem, Muslim Expansion, 1–10. See also the recent work by Hoyland, God’s Path, 231ff; Dūrī, The Rise of Historical Writing, 3–11 (hereafter Dūrī 3–11), especially Fred Donner’s introduction (vii–xvii). Robinson, Historiography, 19–20. For the different scholarly approaches in dealing with the problems in the Muslim sources, particularly describing the major two groups: traditionalists and revisionists, see Berg, “Competing,” in Method, ed. idem, 259–261. Berg observes the different methods and approaches of the two camps, particularly regarding the ḥadīth tradition. As for the historiographical accounts, see Donner, “Introduction,” in The Expansion, ed. idem, xxvii–xxxi.

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40. Concerning the apparent contradictions in the chronology of Muhammad’s maghāzī, see the detailed survey of Jones, “The Chronology of the ‘Mag ̱ ẖāzī’,” 245–280, where he states, “The sīra authorities provide a mass of contradictory data on the chronology of the Prophet’s raids and the task of fitting these inconsistencies into a cogent chronological pattern is beset with difficulties.” 41. See Ṭabarī 4:2156. Donner, in examining the conquest of Syria, writes of some examples of the contradictions especially in the sequence of events: “The separate accounts communicate much contradictory information and are consequently impossible to reconcile in many respects.” Donner, Conquests, 111. Similarly, Kennedy points out that “the sequence of events becomes extremely confused at this point. We have a vast mass of traditions about major battles and minor engagements and about the capture of cities. But the truth is that there is no way of reconciling the different chronological schemes that were elaborated by different Muslim editors, and there are very few external sources to give us any sort of guidance.” Kennedy, Conquests, 72. See also idem, The Prophet, 347ff. 42. Ṭabarī 4:1758. 43. Ibid. 44. Ibid., 4:1758, and 4:1763. 45. Ibid., 5:2580–2581. Robert Hoyland, in examining non-Muslim sources, points out that some claim Egypt was conquered in the year A.H. 26. Hoyland, Seeing Islam as Others Saw It, 580. 46. In discussing the “nature of the sources,” Kennedy states, “In the story of the great Arab conquests, there are fundamental questions of fact, the order of events in the conquest of Syria, for example, or the date of the battle of Qādisiya in Iraq, about which we simply cannot be certain.” Kennedy, Conquests, 72. 47. Toshihiko Izutsu, Ethico-Religious Concepts in the Qur’an, 3. For this method of interpretation, see Ibn Kathīr, Tafsīr al-Qur’ān al-ᶜaẓīm, 1:4, 1:74; Ṭabāṭabā’ī, al-Mīzān fī tafsīr al-Qur’ān, 1:xiii. 48. Daniel Madigan, The Qur’ân’s Self Image, 4. 49. I am aware that translating a word is “a simple expedient” step to identify a probable meaning, but “It is just a first step.” See Izutsu, Ethico-Religious Concepts in the Qur’an, 25. I am also aware that Lisān al-ᶜarab depends on Qur’ānic and post-Qur’ānic materials to define the Arabic words; however, using it provides a basic meaning for the term under study. It is merely a first step to identify a possible meaning. 50. Ibid., 37–38. 51. Izutsu, Ethico-Religious Concepts in the Qur’an, 26. 52. Izutsu points out that some examples of the use of a certain term may “seem not so significant from the semantical point of view.” Ibid., 31–32. 53. The original quote is from Marouzeau’s La Traduction du latin (Paris, n.d.), 38. Izutsu quotes Marouzeau and translates: “To bring together, compare, and put in relation all the terms that resemble, oppose, and correspond with each other.” See Izutsu, Ethico-Religious Concepts in the Qur’an, 36. 54. I critically investigate the “historical” reports found in the sources, and carefully weigh their validity, relying on Fred Kerlinger ’s statement: “A historical research is the critical investigation of events, developments and experiences of the past, the careful weighing of

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the evidence of the validity of sources of information of weighed evidence.” See Kerlinger, Foundations of Behavioral Research, 701. 55. Leedy and Ormrod, Practical Research, 161. Rajendra Sharma states, “Historical research is the application of the scientific method of inquiry to historical problems. It demands standards of careful methodology and spirit comparable to those which characterize other types of research.” Sharma, Sociological Methods, 143.

Works Cited Primary Islamic Sources Ibn Kathīr, Abū al-Fidā’ Ismāᶜīl. Tafsīr al-Qur’ān al-ᶜaẓīm. Edited by Muḥammad Shams al-Dīn. Beirut: Dār al-kutub al-ᶜilmiyya, 1419/1998. Ibn Taymiyya, Taqī al-Dīn. al-Jawāb al-ṣaḥīḥ li-man baddal dīn al-Masīḥ. 7 Vols. Edited by ᶜAlī ibn Ḥasan ibn Nāṣir, ᶜAbd al-ᶜAzīz ibn Ibrāhīm, and Ḥamdān ibn al-Ḥamdān. Riyadh: Dār al-ᶜāṣima li-l-nashr wa-l-tawzīᶜ, 1419/1999. Kalāᶜī, Abū al-Rabīᶜ ibn Mūsā, al-. al-Iktifā’ fī maghāzī rasūl Allāh. 2 Vols. Edited by Muṣṭafā ᶜAbd al-Wāḥid. Cairo: Maktabat al-khānjī; Beirut: al-hilāl, 1970. Ṭabarī, Abū Jaᶜfar Muḥammad ibn Jarīr al-. Annals of the Apostles and Kings: A Critical Edition Including ᶜAribs Supplement. 16 Vols. Edited by Michael Jan de Goeje et al. Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, 2005. Reprint.

Arabic Secondary Studies ᶜAbd al-Karīm, Khalīl. Quraysh: min al-qabīla ilā al-dawla al-markaziyya. 2nd ed. Cairo: Dār sīnā li-l-nashr; Beirut: Mu’assasat al-intishār al-ᶜarabī, 1997. ———. Shadwu al-rabāba bi-aḥwāl mujtamaᶜ al-ṣaḥāba. 2nd ed. 3 Vols. Cairo: Dār sīnā li-lnashr; Beirut: Mu’assasat al-intishār al-ᶜarabī, 1998. ᶜAqqād, ᶜAbbās Maḥmūd al-. Mā yuqāl ᶜan al-Islām. Cairo: Maktabat dār al-ᶜurūba, n.d. Dūrī, ᶜAbd al-ᶜAzīz al-. Baḥth fī nash’at ᶜilm al-ta’rīkh ᶜind al-ᶜArab. Beirut: al-Maṭbaᶜa al-kāthūlīkiyya, 1960. Haykal, Muḥammad Ḥusayn. Ḥayāt Muḥammad. Cairo: Dār al-maᶜārif, 1977. Reprint. ———. Fī manzil al-waḥy. Cairo: Dār al-maᶜārif, 1986. Reprint. Haykal, Muḥammad Khayr. al-Jihād wa-l-qitāl fī al-siyāsa al-sharᶜiyya. 3 Vols. Beirut: Dār al-bayāriq, 1993. Ḥusayn, Ṭāhā. ᶜAlā hāmish al-sīra. 2 Vols. Cairo: Dār al-maᶜārif, n.d. Reprint. ———. Fī al-shiᶜr al-jāhilī. Susah, Tunisia: Dār al-maᶜārif li-l-Ṭibāᶜa wa-l-nashr, 1926. Reprint, 1997. ———. al-Shaykhān. 3rd ed. Cairo: Dār al-maᶜārif, 1966. Kaḥḥāla, ᶜUmar Riḍā. Muᶜjam al-mu’alifīn. 13 Vols. Beirut: Dār iḥyā’ al-turāth al-ᶜarabī, n.d. Mawdūdī, Sayyid Abū al-Aᶜlā. al-Jihād fī sabīl Allāh. Beirut: The Holy Koran Publishing House, 1980.

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———. Minhāj al-inqilāb al-islāmī. Jeddah: al-Dār al-Saᶜūdiyya li-l-nashr, 1408/1988. Reprint. Mubārakpūrī, Ṣafī al-Raḥmān al-. al-Raḥīq al-makhtūm. Qatar: wazārat al-awqāf wa-l-shu’ūn al-islāmiyya, 1428/2007. Reprint. ———. Rawḍat al-anwār fī sīrat al-nabī al-mukhtār. Riyadh: Dār al-Salām li-l-nashr wa-l-tawzīᶜ, 1414/1993. Muṣṭafā, Shākir. al-Ta’rīkh al-ᶜarabī wa-l-mu’arrikhūn: dirāsa fī taṭawwur ᶜilm al-ta’rīkh wa maᶜrifat rijālih fī al-islām. 3rd ed. 3 Vols. Beirut, Lebanon: Dār al-ᶜilm lil-malāyīīn, 1983. Qādirī, ᶜAbdallāh ibn Aḥmad al-. al-Jihād fī sabīl Allāh: Ḥaqīqatuh wa ghāyatuh. 2 Vols. Jeddah: Dār al-manāra, 1413/1992. Qimany, Sayyid Maḥmūd al-. al-Ḥizb al-hāshimī wa ta’sīs al-dawla al-islāmiyya. Cairo: Maktabat Madbūlī al-ṣaghīr, 1996. Reprint. ———. Ḥurūb dawlat al-rasūl. 2nd ed. 2 Vols. Cairo: Maktabat Madbūlī al-ṣaghīr, 1996. Sharīf, Aḥmad Ibrāhīm al-. al-Dawla al-islāmiyya al-ulā. Cairo: Dār al-qalam, 1965. ———. Dirāsāt fī al-ḥaḍāra al-islāmiyya. Kuwait: Dār al-fikr al-ᶜarabī, 1976. ———. Dūr al-Ḥijaz fī al-ḥayāt al-siyāsiyya al-ᶜāmma fī al-qarnayn al-awal wa-l-thānī li-l-hijra. Cairo: Dār al-fikr al-ᶜarabī, 1968. ———. Makka wa-l-Madīna fī al-jāhiliyya wa ᶜahd al-Rasūl. Cairo: Dār al-fikr al-ᶜarabī, 1985. Ṭabāṭabā’ī, Muḥammad Ḥusayn al-. al-Mīzān fī tafsīr al-Qur’ān. 22 Vols. Edited by Ḥusayn al-Aᶜlamī. Beirut: Mu’assasat al-Aᶜlamī, 1997. Ziriklī, Khayr al-Dīn al-. al-Aᶜlām. 8 Vols. Beirut: Dār al-ᶜilm li-l-malāyīn, 2002. Reprint.

Secondary Studies: Muslim and Non-Muslim Abdel Haleem, M. A. The Qur’an: A New Translation. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010. ———. Understanding the Qur’an: Themes and Style. London; New York: Tauris, 1999. Abou El Fadl, Khaled. The Great Theft: Wrestling Islam from the Extremists. New York: Harper SanFrancisco, 2007. Ahmad, Irfan. Islamism and Democracy in India. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2009. Berg, Herbert, ed. Method and Theory in the Study of Islamic Origins. Leiden: Brill, 2003. ———. The Development of Exegesis in Early Islam: The Authenticity of Muslim Literature from the Formative Period. Richmond, Surrey: Curzon, 2000. Borrut, Antoine. “Vanishing Syria: Periodization and Power in Early Islam.” Der Islam 91, no. 1 (2014): 37–68. Brockelmann, Carl. Ta’rīkh al-adab al-ᶜarabī. Edited by ᶜAbd al-Ḥalīm al-Najjār and Ramaḍān ᶜAbd al-Tawwāb. Cairo: Dār al-maᶜārif, 1977. Busha, Charles H., and Stephen P. Harter. Research Methods in Librarianship: Techniques and Interpretation. New York: Academic Press, 1980. Cesari, Jocelyne. “Religion and Politics: What Does God Have to Do with It?” Religions 6, no. 4 (2015): 1330–1344. Donner, Fred McGraw. “Arabic Fatḥ as ‘Conquest’ and its Origin in Islamic Tradition.” Al-ᶜUṣūr al-Wusṭā 24 (2016): 1–14. ———. Narratives of Islamic Origins: The Beginnings of Islamic Historical Writing. Princeton: Darwin Press, 1998.

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———. “Periodization as a Tool of the Historian with Special Reference to Islamic History.” Der Islam 91, no. 1 (2014): 20–36. ———. The Early Islamic Conquests. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981. ———, ed. The Expansion of the Early Islamic State, The Formation of the Classical Islamic World, 5. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2008. ———. “The Formation of the Islamic State.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 106, no. 2 (1986): 283–296. Dūrī, ᶜAbd al-ᶜAzīz al-. The Rise of Historical Writing among the Arabs. Translated by Lawrence I. Conrad. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1983. Goitein, S. D. “A Plea for the Periodization of Islamic History.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 88, no. 2 (1968): 224–228. Hoyland, Robert G. In God’s Path: The Arab Conquests and the Creation of an Islamic Empire Ancient Warfare and Civilization. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015. ———. Seeing Islam as Others Saw It: A Survey and Evaluation of Christian, Jewish, and Zoroastrian Writings on Early Islam Studies in Late Antiquity and Early Islam, 13. Princeton: Darwin Press, 1997. Humphreys, R. Stephen. Islamic History: A Framework for Inquiry. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991. Izutsu, Toshihiko. Ethico-Religious Concepts in the Qur’an. Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2007. Reprint. Jones, J. M. B. “The Chronology of the ‘Mag̱ hāzī’—a Textual Survey.” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London 19, no. 2 (1957): 245–280. Kaegi, Walter Emil. Byzantium and the Early Islamic Conquests. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992. ———. “Initial Byzantine Reactions to the Arab Conquest.” Church History 38, no. 2 (1969): 139–149. ———. Muslim Expansion and Byzantine Collapse in North Africa. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010. Kennedy, Hugh. The Great Arab Conquests: How the Spread of Islam Changed the World We Live In. Philadelphia, PA: Da Capo, 2007. ———. The Prophet and the Age of the Caliphates: The Islamic Near East from the Sixth to the Eleventh Century. Harlow, London: Longman, 1986. Reprint, 2004. Kerlinger, Fred. Foundations of Behavioral Research. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1978. Khalidi, Tarif. Arabic Historical Thought in the Classical Period. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994. Leedy, Paul D., and Jeanne Ellis Ormrod. Practical Research: Planning and Design. Upper Saddle River: Prentice Hall, 2005. Lewis, Bernard. The Political Language of Islam. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1988. Madigan, Daniel A. The Qur’ân’s Self Image: Writing and Authority in Islam’s Scripture. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2001.

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Michel, Thomas F. A Muslim Theologian’s Response to Christianity: Ibn Taymiyya’s al-Jawāb Al-ṣaḥiḥ. Delmar, N.Y.: Caravan Books, 1984. Morony, Michael G. “Bayn al-Fitnatayn: Problems in the Periodization of Early Islamic History.” Journal of Near Eastern Studies 40, no. 3 (1981): 247–251. Nasr, Seyyed Vali Reza. Mawdudi and the Making of Islamic Revivalism. New York: Oxford University Press, 1996. Petersen, Erling Ladewig. ᶜAlī and Muᶜāwiya in Early Arabic Tradition: Studies on the Genesis and Growth of Islamic Historical Writing until the End of the Ninth Century. Trans. P. Lampe Christensen. Copenhagen, Denmark: Aarhuus Stiftsbogtrykkerie, 1964. Robinson, Chase F. Empire and Elites after the Muslim Conquest. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. ———. Islamic Historiography. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. ———. “The Study of Islamic Historiography: A Progress Report.” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society 7, no. 02 (1997): 199–227. Rosenthal, Franz. A History of Muslim Historiography. 2nd ed. Leiden: Brill, 1968. Savant, Sarah Bowen. The New Muslims of Post-Conquest Iran: Tradition, Memory and Conversion. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 2013.

Online Resources Al-Ahrām Egyptian Newspaper http://www.ahram.org.eg International Union of Muslim Scholars (IUMS) http://www.iumsonline.net The official website of Sayyid Maḥmūd al-Qimany http://quemny.blog.com



chapter

two

Review of Precedent Literature

“There is evidence to support the contention that some reports in the sīra literature are of dubious validity and may, in fact, have originated in the need to invent a supported historical context for exegetical readings of particular verses.” —F red M c G raw D onner “Arabic sources tend to return to a common pool of memories about locales, events, institutions, and persons, but with different methods of selecting and manipulating the record. These divergent methods can often suggest something about the hermeneutics of individual traditionists.” —S arah B owen S avant “Whether one approaches Islamic historiography from the angle of the religious or the tribal tradition, its overall character thus remains the same: the bulk of it is debris of an obliterated past.” —P atricia C rone “But the real problem here is that even if one admits the existence of such a ‘kernel’ of history, is it ever possible to identify and extract that information?” —A ndrew L awrence R ippin

The purpose of this chapter is to provide an overview of literature relevant to the multifaceted research problem. This is not an exhaustive review of literature regarding the emergence of Islam, Muslim conquests, or Islamic historiography.

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The goal of this chapter is two-fold: (1) to identify the Muslim primary sources1 used in this study, highlight their major characteristics, and demonstrate their contribution to this research, and (2) to summarize and synthesize the arguments from a wide variety of scholarly secondary studies (Muslim and non-Muslim) on maghāzī and futūḥ, while emphasizing the motivations behind the raids and conquests. This chapter, therefore, is organized into three major sections. The first section surveys Muslim and non-Muslim approaches to the original sources, and has two goals: (1) to demonstrate the major differences between traditional Muslim and non-Muslim approaches regarding the Qur’ān, Muhammad’s sīra and aḥādīth, and the historical traditions, and (2) to explain the major problems found in the Muslim sources and the different scholarly approaches to them. The second section focuses on the Muslim “primary” sources used in this study. The goal of this section is to survey these early sources, primarily sunnī and shīᶜī, emphasizing the contribution added by each to the overall research. It is divided into four subdivisions: (1) sīra and maghāzī, (2) futūḥ narratives, (3) ta’rīkh literature, and (4) other early sources. The third and final section of this chapter examines the secondary studies to explore the various theories offered by non-Muslim scholars, as well as their findings regarding the motivation for the maghāzī and futūḥ. The main goal of the third section is to highlight non-Muslim arguments, contrasting them with the traditional Muslim approach.

Muslim and Non-Muslim Approaches to the Muslim Sources The traditional Muslim picture of Islamic origins is often challe nged by non-Muslim scholars, who are not convinced or satisfied by the Muslim depiction. The phrase “Islamic origins” refers to the formative period of Islam. Some Islamicists, including Fred M. Donner, assign the phrase “Islamic origins” to the first five decades of Islamic history, during which the events, which shaped the Muslim umma, occurred.2 However, as Herbert Berg observes, “Not only do contemporary scholars often disagree with the traditional Muslim depiction(s) of Islamic origins,” but “these scholars often strongly disagree with each other.”3 While Muslims and non-Muslims read the same narrative sources about the emergence of Islam, they reach different conclusions. The term “narrative source” refers to the literary sources, which provide what seem to be historical accounts describing that, which have taken place in the early period of Islam.4 There is disagreement among scholars, both Muslim and non-Muslim, regarding interpretation of historical events during the formative period, and their views of Islam’s sacred scripture, the Qur’ān. In that which follows, I will discuss various scholarly conflicts regarding

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three major areas in the Muslim literature: (1) the Qur’ān, (2) Muhammad’s sīra and aḥādīth, and (3) the Muslim historical accounts.

The Qur’ān The traditional Muslim view of the Qur’ān is that it is kalām Allāh (the words of Allah). It was unzil (caused to come down) as a verbal revelation from Allah to his Prophet Muhammad, through the angel Jibrīl (Gabriel) gradually over a period of time.5 The text of the Qur’ān is traditionally viewed as the written document of a preexisting text, which is kept in heaven, called al-lawḥ al-maḥfūẓ (the preserved celestial tablet).6 Shīᶜī Muslim commentator al-Qummī (d. ca. 307/919) states that the tablet sits to the right of the divine throne and contains what Gabriel gave to Muhammad.7 The muᶜtazilī scholar al-Zamakhsharī (d. 538/1144) declares that this celestial tablet is fawq al-samā’ al-sābiᶜa (above the seventh heaven), as it is protected from the devils.8 The renowned Muslim author Ibn Taymiyya (d. 728/1328) insists that the Qur’ān is uncreated; it is Allah’s dictated words to the believers through his messenger.9 Sayyid Quṭb (d. 1386/1966) believes that the Qur’ān was revealed as the divine nabᶜ (source) to address and meet the needs of al-jamāᶜa al-muslima (the Muslim community).10 Muḥammad Mitwallī al-Shaᶜrāwī (d. 1418/1998) contends that the Qur’ān is not only kalām Allāh al-munazzal (the words of Allah which were sent down), but also the greatest miracle of Allah’s powerful and astonishing deeds; it is not limited by time and will prevail until the Day of Judgment.11 This traditional Muslim picture of the Qur’ān is challenged not only by non-Muslim scholars, mostly Western, but also by a few known Muslims including Ṭāhā Ḥusayn and Khalīl ᶜAbd al-Karīm. Ḥusayn writes that the Qur’ān’s mention of Ibrāhīm (Abraham) does not necessarily provide evidence for the existence of the Patriarch.12 He rejects al-mubālagha (the exaggeration) of exalting the Prophet and his tribe, and acknowledges research suggesting that Muhammad received assistance from Arab poets, including Ibn Abī al-Ṣalt, while writing the Qur’ān.13 Ḥusayn even indicates that the Qur’ānic text is difficult to read and understand, and questions certain chapters including sūrat al-Jinn.14 In these ways, Ḥusayn challenges the traditional Muslim portrayal of Islam’s scripture. Similarly, ᶜAbd al-Karīm distinguishes between the ᶜUthmānic Qur’ān and Allah’s speech that was kept in the hearts of the early Muslims, implying they are distinct, affirming that Muhammad, Abū Bakr, and even ᶜUmar never saw a complete book.15 He also observes that some of the Qur’ānic verses were proclaimed merely to meet the personal needs and desires of Muhammad.16 It is obvious that Ḥusayn and ᶜAbd al-Karīm, though Muslims, do not adopt the traditional Muslim views. These two authors are willing to subject the Qur’ānic text to critical analysis. However, they choose their terms and convey their findings in a conventional manner, due to the sensitivity of the matter.

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Before discussing critical non-Muslim approaches to the Qur’ān, there is an important point to make regarding the sunnī-shīᶜī dispute over Islam’s scripture. Generally, shīᶜī Muslims, throughout history, accepted the same text as their sunnī counterparts. However, there are various shīᶜī claims, which contradict that. The shīᶜī classical work by al-Ṭabarsī (d. 548/1153), al-Iḥtijāj, refers to a significant dispute regarding the Qur’ān after Muhammad’s death, when ᶜAlī presented the supposedly “authentic” Qur’ān to the Companions from the muhājirūn and anṣār. ᶜAlī’s version was rejected by Abū Bakr and ᶜUmar because it included faḍā’iḥ al-qawm (the scandals of the [Muslim] people).17 Two centuries before al-Ṭabarsī, Ibn Yaᶜqūb al-Kulaynī (d. 329/941), pointed out that the Qur’ān given to Muhammad by Gabriel included 17,000 verses.18 It is reported, though highly disputed, that some shīᶜī Muslims believe the true revealed Qur’ān includes two additional chapters, sūrat al-Nūrayn (Two Lights) and sūrat al-Wilāya (Vicegerency).19 This disputed belief creates significant confusion among the two major Muslim sects.20 Sunnī Muslims regularly accuse Shiites of tabdīl kalām Allāh (altering Allah’s words), while shīᶜī Muslims accuse Sunnis of manipulating the sacred text during the leadership of ᶜUthmān.21 The shīᶜī attitude toward the ᶜUthmānic recension is clear: They reject ᶜUthmān as a caliph and remain suspicious of his recension of the Qur’ān, which, in their opinion, was unnecessary.22 The contemporary shīᶜī scholar al-Kūrānī examines sunnī and shīᶜī sources to demonstrate ziyāda wa nuqṣān (interpolations and omissions) in the Qur’ān, and refers to various “missing” and “fabricated” chapters.23 The common shīᶜī belief is that Muhammad did not leave the Qur’ānic text scattered before his death. This belief mocks the sunnī claim that after Muhammad’s death there were pieces of the sacred texts written on “wickers of palm trees, stones, and bones of camels’ shoulders.”24 The existence of “miss ing” and “fabricated” elements in the Qur’ān is not only argued among the shīᶜī Muslims. Ibn al-Khaṭīb (d. 1402/1981), a sunnī graduate of al-Azhar University in Egypt, writes on this very topic, and emphasizes that the Umayyad governor al-Ḥajjāj ibn Yūsuf al-Thaqafī (d. 95/714) changed various parts in the Qur’ān.25 Considering the examples above, one may assert that sunnī and shīᶜī Muslims have differences in their beliefs regarding the sacred text. Both sunnī and shīᶜī Muslims agree that today’s Qur’ān is the authentic text which was revealed to Muhammad. However, shīᶜī Muslims assert that it was compiled by Muhammad, while sunnī Muslims believe it was compiled by ᶜUthmān, the third caliph.26 In addition, there are some who conclude that today’s Qur’ān is not an exact copy of the celestial original. When assessing the Qur’ān critically, non-Muslim scholars are not obligated to show overt sensitivity. They challenge the traditional Muslim portrayal of the Qur’ān’s compilation and transmission. They argue for studying the text critically—an act that, for a traditional Muslim, is considered a great offense.27

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Throughout the past two centuries, non-Muslim scholars have brought the text under examination and offered various critical arguments and theories: 28 (1) The Qur’ān underwent “interpolations,”29 (2) it is made up of “unrelated pericopes,” and was compiled and canonized in the eighth-century in response to a sectarian (Christian-Jewish), rather than pagan, environment,30 (3) the Qur’ānic text needs emendations and various possibilities offered,31 (4) the Qur’ān has many authors,32 (5) the existence of the various readings challenges the notion of celestial tablet and fixed texts,33 (6) some parts of the Qur’ān were transmitted in written form, while others were passed down orally, which disapproves the traditional view of an unbroken oral tradition, 34 (7) the Qur’ān includes “pre-Islamic Christian text as a primitive layer,”35 and so forth. These arguments challenge the traditional Muslim approach to Islam’s scripture.

Historical Writings: Rise and Development Among the Muslims The writing of Islamic historiographical accounts developed gradually among the Arabs, and was correlated to the rise of the discipline of ḥadīth and the development of isnād.36 Regarding this development, particularly during the first three hijrī centuries, the renowned Iraqi historian ᶜAbd al-ᶜAzīz al-Dūrī (1919–2010) observes that, while the pre-Islamic “Jāhilīya left no written literature, and was rather a period of oral culture,” the advent of the Qur’ān as a written document brought attention to the importance of history, particularly ta’rīkh al-anbiyā’ (the history of the prophets).37 The Qur’ān is traditionally believed to have been compiled during the caliphate period of ᶜUthmān (r. 23/644–35/656). The need to document Muhammad’ s deeds, raids, and biography became crucial, partly because the Qur’ān itself emphasized the importance of his words (aḥādīth) and his sunna (example of life).38 Studying Muhammad’s maghāzī appears to be one of the first interests among early Muslims, who produced various historical writings related to the discipline of ḥadīth.39 The early writings on Muhammad’s life were called maghāzī, and were not only concerned with his expeditions and raids, but rather with the entirety of his life’s events and prophetic career.40 Historiographical writing was highly influenced by various political concerns. Ibn Khaldūn (d. 808/1406) writes of the relationship between the history writer and his ruler, symbolizing them as “the pen and the sword,” observing that kilāhumā āla li-ṣāḥib al-dawla (both are a tool [in the hands] of the ruler).41 This political influence appears in an earlier assertion of al-Zuhrī (d. 124/741), who states that he was “forced” under the Umayyads to invent written reports, an experience which left him tolerant toward others doing the same.42 Islamic historiography existed before the early ᶜAbbāsīd caliphate, but this corpus is mostly lost. While Wellhausen suspected the existence of a historiography

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produced during the Umayyad period, 43 it is now a scholarly attested ar gument that history writing began before the ᶜAbbāsīd era.44 In our search for the early Islamic origins, we thus examine “the sources of sources.” If Muslim history written under the Umayyad is now lost and only accessible through writings under the ᶜAbbāsīds, one must acknowledge the influence of the ruler and the various rewritings on these texts. The early writers of maghāzī (not “historians,” as will be noted below) were also known as muḥaddithūn (scholars of ḥadīth);45 such as ᶜUrwa ibn al-Zubayr (d. 94/712), Shuraḥbīl ibn Saᶜd (d. 123/740), and Ibn Shihāb al-Zuhrī (d. 124/741). Among these three, according to Dūrī, al-Zuhrī is the earliest example of a historian in the making, as well as the first to coin the term sīra in relation to the life of Muhammad.46 His influence is apparent in the works of his two well-known students: Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba (d. 141/758) and Ibn Isḥāq (d. 151/761), authors of some of the earliest accounts on Muhammad’s life and raids. While Ibn Isḥāq provided the earliest known sīra, it was al-Wāqidī (d. 207/823) who made a significant breakthrough by establishing a cohesive systematic style in his writings, which relied primarily on the isnād (chain of transmitters or informants).47 The writings of al-Wāqidī addressed various topics: maghāzī, futūḥ, and ta’rīkh.48 “The work al-Wāqidī began was continued and advanced by his student, Ibn Saᶜd (d. 230/844), as he wrote Kitāb al-ṭabaqāt al-kabīr.49 Khalīfa ibn Khayyāṭ (d. 240/854) wrote one of the earliest dedicated works of historiography, his Ta’rīkh Khalīfa. Although most of the authors mentioned above were not “historians” initially, their work advanced the body of Muslim historical writing through the end of the third century A.H.50 Around the second half of the third century A.H., there was a significant breakthrough in Muslim historical writing. Beginning with al-Balādhurī (d. ca. 279/892) and his important works Futūḥ al-buldān and Ansāb al-ashrāf, we trace an advancement in historical writings: use of logical sequence, dependence upon oral and written sources, chronological organization, and critical assessment of his sources.51 At this stage, in addition to the writings of al-Balādhurī, we encounter the rigorous historiographical work by al-Yaᶜqūbī (d. 284/897), who critiques his sources in balanced ways and does not deny his shīᶜī perspective especially concerning the first three successors of Muhammad.52 During the same period, the works of Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam (d. 257/871), al-Dīnawarī (d. ca. 282/895), and the highly esteemed al-Ṭabarī (d. 310/923) brought the Muslim historical writing to a much more developed level by the end of the third century A.H.53 This brief survey on the development of historical writing among the Muslims in the first three centuries not only suggests that it took centuries for Islamic historiography to develop, but also that this very process presents the most challenging problem with the Muslim original sources, namely, the late date of writing. This

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problem, among others, is central to the following section, which explores and identifies some of the major challenges faced by students of Islamic history.

Source Problems in the HistoricalWritings: The Crisis of IslamicStudies In Chapter One, I point to the existence of various challenging problems, both internal and external, in Arabic primary sources. The internal problems concern the text itself, as al-Ṭabarī observes uncertainties regarding dates of important events and discrepancies about chronological order.54 These “internal complexities,” according to Donner, give “pause to the serious researchers.”55 Like Donner, Hugh Kennedy observes that the “nature of the sources has also discouraged historians from trying to give a bold and clear narrative of these world-shaking events [of the conquests].”56 The external textual problem refers to the fact that our sources are not contemporary to the events they describe, which violates the first principle of studying history. In a sense, the Arabic “primary” sources cannot truthfully be considered primary, as far as the definition of “primary” is concerned. Their testimony is not direct, as narrators were not present at the described events.57 The existence of these internal and external difficulties discourages any serious student, specifically Islamicists and historians of early Islam. Acknowledging the existence of these internal and external problems, modern scholarship on Islamic origins approaches the historiographical accounts in a variety of ways. Scholars differ primarily in their views of authenticity and reliability. Not only do they differ greatly in their assumptions, but also in their level of acceptance of the sources’ actual statements. While all competent and skillful historians are critical and in some sense skeptical of their sources in order to test them, one group of scholars stands out as being particularly skeptical of the Muslim sources and the traditional Muslim portrayal of Islamic origins.58 This group is known as the skeptics or revisionists, in contrast with those generally knownas the traditionalists. Some scholars prefer the labels of sanguine and skeptics,59 while others prefer positivists and revisionists.60 The major difference between these two groups lies in their trust of the sources’ reliability. It should be noted at the outset that these two groups are not strictly monolithic, as the arguments and conclusions within each of them may still vary. In describing these two opposing groups, Gregor Schoeler points out that the current research on Muhammad’ s sīra, has: (1) skeptic scholars, who insist that “all transmitted traditions, in part because of great inner contradictions, legendary forms, and so forth, are to be rejected,” and (2) traditionalists, who argue that “Islamic transmission, despite all these defects, has at least a genuine core, which can be recognized using the appropriate source-critical method.”61 Donner, seemingly in agreement with Schoeler, argues that there “is evidence to support

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the contention that some reports in the sīra literature are of dubious validity and may, in fact, have originated in the need to invent a supported historical context for exegetical readings of particular verses [in the Qur’ān].”62 However, Donner is opposed to the scholarly tendency to categorize the approaches into only traditional and skeptical. He identifies four approaches, including the skeptical approach as the fourth, labeling it as “radical.”63 In this study, I prefer to use the terms sanguine and skeptical to identify the two major scholarly groups. Regarding these two groups, a few words of explanation are necessary. While Muslims generally accept the picture presented by the sources uncritically, believing it was preserved and transmittedthrough generations, non-Muslim scholars approach these texts cautiously. Some non-Muslim scholars, however, partially accept the picture portrayed in the Muslim sources, although this is uncommon after the mid-nineteenth century.64 Scholars such as William Muir and Philip Hitti, in their retelling of the Muslim origins (The Life of Mahomet and History of the Arabs, respectively), sketched the Islamic origins in a manner which resembled the traditional Muslim portrayal. Nevertheless, as Donner observes, “This comfortable replication of the Islamic tradition’s own view of Islamic ori gins would be perfectly acceptable if it could withstand critical scrutiny.”65 The case of Muir and Hitti, among others, did not last for long following the discov ery of various important Arabic manuscripts around the late nineteenth century.66 Western scholars produced critically edited projects on Arabic manuscripts, which resulted in a significant advancement of the field based on their new findings.67 With these critical editions, they began to wrestle with the apparent contradictions and obscurities in the sources, and argued that there were both reliable and unreliable materials in the accounts. The major debate between sanguine and skeptical scholars centers on the “reli ability issue.” On the one hand, sanguine scholars commonly argue that regardless of apparent existence of various problems in the sources, there is still a “kernel” of reliable material, which can be analyzed to reconstruct the events discussed.68 Antoine Borrut calls this “a kind of historiographical skeleton.”69 Rippin skeptically states, “the real problem here is that even if one admits the existence of such a ‘kernel’ of history, is it ever possible to identify and extract that information?”70 Skeptics, on the other hand, question the methods used by the positivists and argue that a “kernel” of reliable material often cannot be identified, even with thorough examination.71 The skeptical approach is indebted greatly to the works of Ignaz Goldziher (1850–1921), who is considered one of its earliest advocates. His studies on the ḥadīth served as a turning point in Islamic Studies, providing a foundation for the approach’s considerable growth. He demonstrated that much of what the Muslim umma identifies as aḥādīth ṣaḥīḥa (sound and authentic traditions) was fabricated by later generations for political or religious reasons.72 In addition to the works

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of Goldziher, the writings of Joseph Schacht almost a generation later advanced the skeptical approach, particularly regarding jurisprudence and Islamic sharīᶜa (law).73 This approach grew over time and addressed not only Muhammad’ s ḥadīth, but also other areas in Islamic history such as the sīra, futūḥ, and even the Qur’ān itself. During the final quarter of the twentieth century, the works of John Wansbrough—Qur’ānic Studies (Oxford, 1977), and The Sectarian Milieu (Oxford, 1978)—significantly furthered this approach, and influenced various other scholars. Among them were Michael Cook, Patricia Crone, Martin Hinds, Gerald Hawting, Christoph Luxenberg, Gerd Puin, and Andrew Rippin. This approach had some adherents among Arab scholars as well, such as Naṣr Ḥāmid Abū Zayd, Muḥammad Arkūn, Khalīl ᶜAbd al-Karīm, Sayyid al-Qimany, Farag Fūda, Gamāl al-Bannā, among others. The arguments of these scholars vary greatly and their presuppositions differ, yet they each emphasize the historiographical shortcomings within the Muslim narratives and traditions. Among these skeptical arguments, one can identify a few to illustrate the point. John Wansbrough doubts the validity of analyzing the Muslim sources to reconstruct what actually happened, because, for him, the Muslim sources represent merely literary accounts, 74 which reflect salvation history.75 He suggests that the Qur’ān is better viewed as a created text composed of fragments of “originally independent traditions,”76 and that the completion of compiling the text should be placed within “the late second/eighth or early third/ ninth centuries.”77 Wansbrough’s theories inspired other scholars. Michael Cook doubts the validity of the isnād and the reliability of the transmission of tradition orally: “We have reason to believe that numerous traditions on questions of dogma and law were provided with spurious chains of authorities by those who put them into circulation.”78 Avraham Hakim, following the skeptical approach of Wansbrough and the earlier steps of Goldziher and Schacht regarding the ḥadīth, argues that the ḥadīth traditions are “texts that reflect the ideas and the beliefs of the Muslim scholars who produced and circulated them.”79 John Burton believes that we cannot use the ḥadīth collections to reconstruct historical accounts.80 As for the conquests, particularly those of Egypt and North Africa, Robert Brunschvig, in his examination of Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam’s work on Futūḥ Miṣr, demonstrates that the historical narratives have been affected by later debates on fiqh, which calls into question the validity and authenticity of the historical reports and the reconstructed picture of the conquest of Egypt.81 Crone and Cook, in their controversial work, Hagarism, contend that the Muslim narratives cannot be trusted as they were written too late and do not seem to match the data provided in non-Muslim independent accounts.82 Crone argues that the early caliphate narratives are fabricated (like a fiction),83 and states, “The entire tradition is tendentious, its aim

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being the elaboration of an Arabian Heilgeschichte, and this tendentiousness has shaped the facts as we have them, not merely added some partisan statements we can deduct.”84 Skeptics can even boldly argue that Muhammad was never a historical figure and that the early conquests never took place.85 The skeptical approach is summarized clearly in a statement by one of its leading advocates: “Whether one approaches Islamic historiography from the angle of the religious or the tribal tradition, its overall character thus remains the same: the bulk of it is debris of an obliterated past.”86 In light of this, the positions of the non-skeptics and skeptics are not easily reconciled because they “proceed from radically different understandings of how early historical tradition was generated and transmitted.”87 Therefore, based upon this growing body of research, I conclude that our sources do not necessarily record what actually happened, but instead represent what the authors, at best, believed to have taken place or, at worst, what they desired their audience to believe about the era they described. As Robinson rightly argues, our sources provide a “representation rather than record,” because the Muslim writers were authors “who wrote well after the events they describe.”88 I am convinced that Islamic historiography is not only reports of the past, but also, and perhaps more so, a collective representation of the political, religious, and social contexts and realities of its authors. The authors told the story from their standpoint as religious authors. Their chief goal in detailing the raids and conquests was to represent how Allah led and guided the Believers and intervened in their affairs, not to emphasize any human endeavor. It is important to recall Ibn Shihāb al-Zuhrī’s account of the Umayyad rulers’ encouragement to create fabricated historical accounts, as well as Ibn Khaldūn’s comments on the interconnectedness of the sword (of the Muslim ruler) and the pen (of the history writers), and al-Ṭabarī’s discovery of discrepancies in historical reports. Taken as a whole, these accounts frame the historical sources as a “historical memory” of the faithful, rather than a precise account of actual events.89 Acknowledging a variety of apparent problems in the sources,90 I argue that we can critically analyze how Muslim historians portrayed the raids and conquests, but we cannot know whether these accounts recorded the actual events. Regardless, we can still benefit from the querying of sources as we seek to determine the various ways in which Muslim writers sought to depict the early Arab expansion.91

Arabic Primary Sources Used in This Study: A Survey The purpose of this section is twofold. First, it surveys the major Muslim historical sources written in Arabic, identifying their genres and major themes and addressing the related scholarly debates. Second, it seeks to explain the contributions

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of these sources to the present study, and to trace the development of historical writing among Muslims during the first three centuries of Islam. This section is divided into four parts: (1) Muhammad’s Life and Raids: Sīra and Maghāzī, (2) Early Muslim Conquests: Futūḥ Literature, (3) Early Muslim Histories: Ta’rīkh Literature, and (4) More Early Sources.

Muhammad’s Life and Raids: Sīra and Maghāzī The following names are important authorities in the historical Muslim writings on Muhammad’s life and his raids: al-Zuhrī (d. 124/742), Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba (d. 141/758), al-Wāqidī (d. 207/823), Ibn Hishām (d. 218/833), Abū Nuᶜaym al-Iṣfahānī (d. 430/1038), al-Bayhaqī (d. 458/1066), al-Suhaylī (d. 581/1185), and al-Kalāᶜī (d. 634/1237).92 The works of these Muslim authors serve as the foundation of the primary data collected concerning Muhammad’s military career and his major life events for this project. The first school of the Muslim historical writing emerged as the school of maghāzī in Medina, due to the effort of two ḥadīth scholars: ᶜUrwa ibn al-Zubayr (d. 94/712) and his student al-Zuhrī (d. 124/742).93 While maghāzī, from a linguistic standpoint, refers to battles and military campaigns, in the early Islamic writings it signified Muhammad’s life and career.94 While various reports on Muhammad’s maghāzī are attributed to ᶜUrwa, there is no complete work written by him under this title. Major Muslim authorities, including al-Ṭabarī and Ibn Hishām, quote ᶜUrwa and use his reports in their accounts on Muhammad’s life.95 According to Dūrī, ᶜUrwa was the “founder of maghāzī studies” and the first to produce written reports on Muhammad’s career.96 However, it is al-Zuhrī who is considered the founder of the Medinan historical school of thought. His writings on Muhammad’s maghāzī are considered the earliest complete Arabic source on Muhammad’s life and career. It should be noted, however, that Albrecht Noth convincingly refutes the theory of two historiographical schools, Medina and Kūfa, citing “comparable material” between the two. He thus concludes: “As far as their view of history is concerned, therefore, no single one of the collections can be considered as a self contained unit.”97 Al-Zuharī’s Maghāzī is an important document in this study , and the writer is a key figure in using the term sīra to represent Muhammad’s biography, establishing it mainly on aḥādīth.98 Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba (d. 141/758) provides another early account of Muhammad’s life, Kitāb al-maghāzī, in which he seems to rely on al-Zuhrī’s accounts.99 Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba is considered one of the “two greatest early sīra authorities,” in addition to Ibn Isḥāq (d. 151/761).100 Ibn Isḥāq’s record of Muhammad’s sīra survived through its edited version by Ibn Hishām (d. 218/833) under the same title.101 Ibn Hishām was a well-known Muslim grammarian,

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historian, and linguist, and thus, Muslim scholars favor his revised version of Ibn Isḥāq’s Sīra.102 However, critically speaking, Ibn Hishām distorted the records of Ibn Isḥāq, and admitted in his introduction to having “omitted” issues “disgraceful” to discuss.103 Ibn Hishām’s (and Ibn Isḥāq’s) Sīra was translated into English by Alfred Guillaume (1888–1966), and is used in this project in addition to the Arabic text. Thus, the works of Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba and Ibn Isḥāq (through Ibn Hishām’s version) provide this study with a second level of historical data in addition to that of al-Zuhrī. Moreover, this study relies onKitāb al-maghāzī by al-Wāqidī (d. ca. 207/823). Though from a later era, it displays significant developments in Muslim historical writing and, specifically, in its approach to recording Muhammad’s life and career. It emphasizes the Medinan period, the time period of the raids and expeditions led or commissioned by Muhammad. Al-Wāqidī established a consistent systematic style in his writings by relying on the isnād, quoting the Qur’ān, and, most importantly, selecting and criticizing his own sources. Reports state that he traveled to certain battlefields during his thorough investigation, in order to authenticate his sources.104 Thus, although al-Wāqidī relied on the renowned historians who preceded him,105 he surpassed them in his scrutiny.106 His Arabic work is edited in a scholarly edition by Marsden Jones, which serves this current study as an excellent account of Muhammad’s maghāzī which is both relatively early and critically tested.107 In studying Muhammad’s life and raids, not only are the works on maghāzī and sīra important, but also those on Dalā’il al-nubuwwa (signs of prophecy). The authors of such works analyze the accounts of Muhammad’s life and highlight those events, which are, in their opinions, evidence of his prophethood. I will use three works: two titled Dalā’il al-nubuwwa, by Abū Nuᶜaym al-Iṣfahānī (d. 430/1038) and al-Bayhaqī (d. 458/1066), and Tathbīt dalā’il al-nubuwwa by the muᶜtazilī ᶜAbd al-Jabbār al-Hamadhānī (d. 415/1025). I will contrast these accounts with the earlier works of al-Zuhrī, Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba, Ibn Isḥāq, and al-Wāqidī. In addition to the works of Dalā’il al-nubuwwa, I use another Muslim explanatory work al-Rawḍ al-unuf by al-Suhaylī (d. 581/1185), in which he explains, in commentary form, Ibn Hishām’s Sīra.108 I also consult various early works on Muhammad’s character: al-Shamā’il al-Muḥammadiyya by Ibn ᶜĪsā al-Tirmidhī (d. 279/892), Akhlāq al-nabī by al-Aṣbahānī (d. 369/979), and Sharaf al-muṣṭafā by ᶜAbd al-Malik al-Kharkūshī (d. 407/1016).109 One additional work on Muhammad’ s sīra, which this study utilizes, is that of al-Kalāᶜī (d. 634/1237). He summarizes Ibn Isḥāq’s Sīra by “stripping away the elements he considered non-essential, and replacing them with his own selection of prose, genealogy and poetry.”110 Although written during the seventh/thirteenth century, it represents a refreshed portrayal of Muhammad’s sīra and satisfies not only the

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requirements of the medieval audiences, but also the trends and style of the Muslim historical writing of the era.111 Therefore, by considering the early works of ᶜUrwa, al-Zuhrī, ᶜUqba, and Ibn Isḥāq (Ibn Hishām), the relatively later work of al-Wāqidī, the commentaries of Dalā’il al-nubuwwa and al-Rawḍ al-unuf, and the refreshed Sīra of al-Kalāᶜī, this study aims to obtain an in-depth view of Muhammad’s life and raids.

Early Muslim Conquests: Futūḥ Literature The futūḥ theme in Islamic historiography focuses on the conquests waged by the early Muslims outside the Arabian Peninsula after Muhammad’s death.112 The Muslim authors use the term futūḥ (opening, or liberating), rather than invasions or attacks, as the theme “aims to explain (and, in doing so, justify) the way in which Muslim hegemony over non-Muslims in the Islamic state arose, and to chronicle when particular regions and cities were first brought into the bosom of the expanding Islamic state.”113 There are various futūḥ titles known among scholars, and according to Noth “in all likelihood there were many more.”114 In analyzing the early conquests in the period under study, this study relies on the futūḥ literature attributed to al-Azdī al-Baṣrī (d. ca. 165/781), al-Wāqidī (d. ca. 207/823), Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam (d. 257/871), al-Balādhurī (d. ca. 279/892), and Ibn Aᶜtham al-Kūfī (d. ca. 314/926). Here, I will explore the key elements of each title and explain its major contributions to the present study.115 One of the earliest available futūḥ works is Futūḥ al-Shām by al-Azdī al-Baṣrī (d. ca. 165/781). William Nassau Lees (1825–1889) completed a critical edition of this work, published by the Baptist Mission Press in Calcutta in 1854. Al-Azdī’s work, if authentic, originates in the second century A.H., and focuses primarily on the conquests in Greater Syria.116 According to Noth and Conrad, this work was neglected for years due to Michael Jan de Goeje’s 1864 critique, which led several scholars to label the source as unreliable. In 1987, Lawrence Conrad reestablished confidence in it. This confidence was advanced, in 2000, by the critical study of Suleiman Mourad.117 Kaegi indicates that al-Azdī’s work “requires a critical reading, but its account should not be rejected out of hand,”118 and concludes that while “it would be erroneous to accept the testimony of [it] blindly, some of his statements have more of a ring of authenticity than scholars have previously assumed.”119 Futūḥ al-Shām by al-Azdī, therefore, remains of great importance primarily because of its early date.120 This study relies on its account among several others to establish a critical assessment of traditional Muslim claims regarding the motivations for the early conquests. Another work on the conquest of Syria is the Futūḥ al-Shām attributed to al-Wāqidī (d. 207/823). Various scholars doubt its authenticity, attributing it to pseudo-Wāqidī.121 Recently, Boaz Shoshan convincingly argued that al-Wāqidī is

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not the writer.122 Among the extant works on al-futūḥ, this source is the most problematic. However, its reports remain valuable to the present study, particularly in contrasting them with the other available ta’rīkh and futūḥ accounts. One of the most important works on the futūḥ is the Kitāb futūḥ al-buldān by Persian Muslim historian al-Balādhurī (d. ca. 279/892). Its Arabic critical edition was completed by the Dutch scholar Michael Jan de Goeje (1836–1909), published by Brill in 1866. Because of this source’s great value, Frances Murgotten (d. 1937) and Philipp K. Hitti (d. 1978) produced an English translation toward the beginning of the past century, using the Arabic text edited by de Goeje. Al-Balādhurī’s accounts, Petersen asserts, “surpass by far most of the classical Islamic historians’ works on account of his apparent impartiality.”123 Comparing al-Balādhurī’s accounts with those of the renowned Muslim historian al-Ṭabarī, Donner observes that “Al-Balādhurī’s Futūḥ offers much fuller information on early administrative institutions than does al-Ṭabarī.”124 The works of al-Balādhurī, according to Dūrī, demonstrate a clear development in Muslim historical writings, particularly the way he used not only chronological order, but also logical sequence in arranging his materials, in addition to his manifest critical assessment of the reliability of his informants.125 According to Petersen, there are at least three reasons for esteeming al-Balādhurī as a “reliable” Muslim historian: (1) his impartiality, (2) his unsuppressed critique of the pro-Umayyad belief, and (3) his diligent methodology, honest technique, and sincere quotation of opposing parties.126 In this study, I rely heavily upon al-Balādhurī’s Futūḥ, recognizing its importance and uniqueness without ignoring the fact that it was produced centuries after the events it describes. There are two other futūḥ works used in this study: Futūḥ Miṣr wa akhbāruhā by Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam (d. 257/871) and Kitāb al-futūḥ by Ibn Aᶜtham al-Kūfī (flourished ninth century CE).127 The emphasis of Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam’s Futūḥ Miṣr is on Egypt “and to a much lesser extent,North Africa,” in addition to some details on “Egypt’s administration, geography, and settlement in the early period.”128 Kitāb Futūḥ Miṣr was published in a scholarly edition in 1922 by Charles Torrey. This copy is of major importance to the present study, precisely when examining the conquest of Egypt.129 Kitāb al-futūḥ by Ibn Aᶜtham al-Kūfī (d. 314/926) serves this study as a supplementary account of the events described by the above futūḥ writings, since it is a considerably later work.130 Donner suggests Ibn Aᶜtham’s work merges “numerous reports derived from Ibn Isḥāq and al-Wāqidī to create an unbroken narrative.”131 Thus, the works of Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam and Ibn Aᶜtham al-Kūfī, in addition to those of al-Azdī al-Baṣrī, al-Wāqidī, and al-Balādhurī, provide this present study with foundational futūḥ accounts, which support the overall critical investigation. In addition to these futūḥ sources, this study relies heavily on ta’rīkh works, which we will now examine.

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Early Muslim Histories: Ta’rīkh Literature This study is concerned with tārīkh (history) and ta’rīkh (historiography) as Muslims see them. In addition to the historiographical reports found in the maghāzī, sīra, and futūḥ literature, the Muslim history books are crucial to the historical investigation. I use primarily the histories of Khalīfa ibn Khayyāṭ (d. 240/854), al-Dīnawarī (d. ca. 282/895), al-Yaᶜqūbī (d. 284/897), and al-Ṭabarī (d. 310/923), because of their early dates, and, to a lesser degree, those by Ibn al-Athīr (d. 630/1233) and Ibn Kathīr (d. 774/1373). I will now discuss these histories and emphasize the major contributions of each to the present investigation. The Ta’rīkh of al-Yaᶜqūbī (d. 284/897) is one of the earliest available Muslim history books. He was not only a shīᶜī Persian historian,132 but also a well-known geographer. He wrote two important works: (1) his historiography, Ta’rīkh, which is also known as Ta’rīkh ibn Wāḍiḥ, and (2) Kītāb al-buldān, which will be dis cussed in a different section below. In his Ta’rīkh, he describes the pre-Islamic history of the non-Muslim people, exploring their paganism, writings, and liter ature, followed by the historical accounts of Islam and the development of the early Islamic State until 258/872.133 He provides historical consecutive accounts, summarized without authenticating them with the isnād, “because he explicitly states that he would relate only accounts that had found wide acceptance.”134 Al-Yaᶜqūbī critiques his sources in a balanced way and speaks clearly of his shīᶜī perspective, particularly as he addresses the days of the first three successors of Muhammad.135 Therefore, this present study relies on Ta’rīkh al-Yaᶜqūbī because of its early date, its succinctness, and its presentation of ashīᶜī perspective, which is necessary to contrast with the sunnī sources. In this study, I use the scholarly critical edition by Martijn Theodor Houtsma, published in two volumes by Brill in 1883. Abū Jaᶜfar Muḥammad ibn Jarīr al-Ṭabarī (d. 310/923), born in Amul in the province of Ṭabaristān, was one of the most prominent and influential Muslim historians, exegetes, and ḥadīth scholars. His magnum opus Ta’rīkh is considered one of the most important history books among Muslims. Its longer title is Ta’rīkh al-rusul wa-l-mulūk (The History of the Prophets and Kings), or Ta’rīkh al-umam wa-l-mulūk, generally known as the Annals. Of the importance of al-Ṭabarī and his history work, Ibn Khaldūn (d. 808/1406) writes, “there are very few historians who have become so well known as to be recognized as authorities, and who have replaced the products of their predecessors by their own works.”136 Al-Ṭabarī’s Ta’rīkh became very well known to the extent that it was translated into Persian by the middle of the tenth century C.E.137 This work, which covers up to the year 302/915, marked a significant turning point in historical writing. It served as a major “historiographical filter” and “a distorting [historiographical] prism,” developing

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a historiographical “orthodoxy,” during an “intense period of canonization.”138 Al-Ṭabarī influenced both the details of historiographical accounts and the authors who followed him and seemingly paraphrased and summarized his accounts.139 In the same way al-Ṭabarī’s successors depended heavily on his accounts, he himself relied on many important Muslim figures who preceded him.140 His methodology relies on the use of the isnād without expressing his opinion in most cases: “[Al-Ṭabarī] builds upon the sunna of the Prophet, the Prophet Companions and Prophet Followers, supplemented with the orthodox ijmāᶜ [the consensus of the Muslim umma].”141 He gained experience and knowledge “during the study tours that he took between ca. 855 and 870,” as “he traveled widely, studying under prominent Persians, Iraqis, Syrians and Egyptians.”142 The work of al-Ṭabarī, therefore, is crucial to this study not only due to his knowledge, experience, and the reputation of his work within the Muslim umma, but also because it provides numerous historical reports. It serves as the foundational historical source to support and contrast with the reports found in the sīra, maghāzī, and futūḥ literature. I am using the scholarly critical edition edited by Michael Jan de Goeje. Abū Ḥanīfa al-Dīnawarī (d. ca. 282/895) wrote an important history book: Kitāb al-akhbār al-ṭiwāl. He was a shīᶜī writer and contemporary to al-Yaᶜqūbī (d. 284/897).143 His work focuses on Iran and Iraq, and “includes nothing on the Islamic conquests of Syria, Egypt, or the Maghrib, but has considerable detail on conquests in Iraq and Iran, against the Sasanians.”144 In addition to the advantage of its early date, al-Dīnawarī’s work provides a shīᶜī perspective, like al-Yaᶜqūbī’s, and supplements the historical data collection, particularly regarding the events which took place in Iraq and Iran during the early Muslim conquests.145 The history books of al-Ṭabarī, al-Yaᶜqūbī, and al-Dīnawarī are essential to this study. Using their scholarly critical editions adds to the value of the analyses. Additionally, yet to a lesser degree, the histories of Ibn al-Athīr (d. 630/1233) and Ibn Kathīr (d. 774/1373) are also consulted. They serve as a secondary level of history books for contrasting.146 Ibn al-Athīr’s al-Kāmil fī al-ta’rīkh147 and Ibn Kathīr’s al-Bidāya wa-l-nihāya148 are referenced in this study, although they were written at a much later date and rely heavily on previous works, particularlythat of al-Ṭabarī. Therefore, there are two groups of history books in this study. The first group includes the histories of Khalīfa, al-Yaᶜqūbī, al-Dīnawarī, and al-Ṭabarī, as they provide the earliest extant histories, while the second, which is primarily for consulting, includes the histories of Ibn al-Athīr and Ibn Kathīr. With these five histories, in addition to the works on sīra, maghāzī, and futūḥ mentioned earlier, this study aims to analyze the available historiographical accounts critically, relying on numerous Muslim sources in order to test the traditionalMuslim hypothesis regarding the raids and conquests during the period under scrutiny.

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More Early Muslim Sources To analyze the dif ferent visions of Islam, this study relies additionally on other early Muslim sources: sunnī, shīᶜī, muᶜtazilī, and ṣūfī.149 In addition to the aforementioned sīra, maghāzī, futūḥ, and ta’rīkh sources, various other early sources are used in this critical investigation. Bringing shīᶜī, ṣūfī, and muᶜtazilī voices to this investigation is necessary, as it provides a broader picture of the beliefs of the Muslim umma. While the sunnī voice is usually represented in scholarly discussions, it is incorrect to consider it the only, or even the main, Muslim voice. There are many other voices among Muslims, which are important and deserve recognition, especially if the aim is to analyze and test traditional Muslim claims. Among the non-sunnī sources, this study consults important shīᶜī works: Uṣūl al-kāfī by al-Kulaynī (d. ca. 328/939), al-Iḥtijāj and Iᶜlām al-warā bi-aᶜlām al-hudā by al-Ṭabarsī (d. 548/1153), and al-Mabsūṭ fī fiqh al-imāmiyya by al-Ṭūsī (d. 460/ 1068). These three authors are not only shīᶜī, but precisely ithnāᶜashariyya (Twelver Shiite), who wrote on ḥadīth and fiqh. When discussing the Qur’ān, the voices of the shīᶜī commentator al-Ṭabāṭabā’ī (d. 1401/1981) and the muᶜtazilī al-Zamakhsharī (d. 538/1144) are consulted. The ṣūfī contribution is present through works including Iḥyā’ ᶜulūm al-dīn by Abū Ḥāmid al-Ghazālī (d. 505/1111) and Ḥilyat al-awliyā’ by Abū Nuᶜīm al-Iṣfahānī (d. 430/1048), in addition to tafsīr works by Abū al-Qāsim al-Qushayrī (d. 465/1072) and Sahl al-Tustarī (d. ca. 283/896). Furthermore, I use various other early sources, which are not historical per se, because of their importance: Kitāb Asrār āl Muḥammad by Sulaym Ibn Qays (d. 76/695), Kitāb al-jihād by ᶜAbdullāh ibn al-Mubārak (d. 181/797), Kitāb al-siyar of Abū Isḥāq al-Fazārī (d. after 185/802), Kitāb al-kharāj by Yaḥyā ibn Ādam (d. 203/818), Kitāb al-aṣnām by Ibn al-Kalbī (d. 204/819), Kitāb al-amwāl by al-Qāsim ibn Sallām (d. 224/837), Kitāb al-fitan by Nuᶜaym ibn Ḥammād (d. 288/901), Kitāb al-fihrist by Ibn al-Nadīm (d. ca. 385/990), among others. Regarding the life and deeds of the companions of Muhammad, this study relies on the well-known tarājim (literary biographies) works, such as Usd al-ghāba fī maᶜrifat al-ṣaḥāba by Ibn al-Athīr (d. 630/1233), al-Iṣāba fī tamyīz al-ṣaḥāba by Ibn Ḥajar al-ᶜAsqalānī (d. 852/1448), and others. When discussing geography, I rely on important sources including al-Masālik wa-l-mamālik by Ibn Khuradādhbih (d. ca. 280/893), Kitāb al-buldān by al-Yaᶜqūbī (d. 284/897), Ṣifat jazīrat al-ᶜarab by al-Hamdānī (d. 333/945), al-Masālik wa-l-mamālik by al-Iṣṭakhrī al-Balkhī (d. 346/957), Mukhtaṣar kitāb al-buldān by Ibn al-Faqīh (d. 365/975), and Muᶜjam al-buldān by Yaqūt al-Ḥamawī (d. 627/1229). Various sources used in this study belong to other genres, including al-Itqān fī ᶜulūm al-Qur’ān by Jalāl al-Dīn al-Suyūṭī (d. 911/1505), which is considered one of the most important sources for comprehending the style, language, and meaning of the Qur’ānic text. I also use the works on Asbāb al-nuzūl by al-Wāḥidī (d. 468/1076) and al-Suyūṭī (d. 911/1505), and those on fiqh including al-Siyar

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al-kabīr by al-Shaybānī (d. ca. 184/805) and al-ᶜUqd al-farīd by Ibn ᶜAbd Rabbih (d. 328/940). By representing different Muslim voices (sunnī, shīᶜī, and others), I aim to test the traditional Muslim claims and contrast them with each other. The sources listed above make up only a sampling of the documents consulted in this study , to demonstrate the desire of the writer to investigate the matter meticulously and comprehensively.

Motivations for the Conquests in the Secondary Literature In Chapter One, I illustrated how the Muslim umma has commonly adopted a traditional approach concerning the motivation for the early raids and conquests. Various classical, modern, and contemporary Muslim authors insist that the early maghāzī and futūḥ occurred primarily to proclaim the Muslim message and liberate the non-Muslims. For them, the military campaigns are never associated with political or economic factors; additionally, they were battles in self-defense to protect the Muslim umma. This approach is apologetic in its essence, and is usually challenged and critiqued by non-Muslim writers.150 Non-Muslim scholars have rejected the traditional approach and attempted to identify non-religious factors to explain what motivated the military campaigns. In his excellent survey of the development of Western scholarship on the conquests, Donner notes that one of the earliest explanations offered by non-Muslims was the “mass migration” theory: Arab nomadic tribesmen left their homeland for another place.151 One example of Western scholars who adopted this theory is the Scottish orientalist, Sir William Muir (1819–1905). He states that “Arabs, thus emerging from their desert-home, became the aristocracy of Islam.”152 Rejecting the Muslim argument of religious motivation, Muir affirms that “Arabian people, both town and Bedouin, were riveted to Islam by common bond—the love of rapine and the lust of spoil.”153 This mass migration theory was common during the late nine teenth and early twentieth centuries, according to Donner. He observes that Western historians viewed the Muslim expansion as “one chapter in a series of mass migrations of Semites from the Arabian Peninsula, and thus as not really related to Islam as a doctrine.”154 The early Muslim conquests in particular, according to this theory, were not primarily driven by religious convictions, but rather by the desire of the Arabs to flee the heat of the desert, seeking better lands for economic reasons. The “mass migrations” or “nationalist” theory, however, was not the only one circulating among non-Muslim scholars at that time. Henri Lammens (1862–1937), a Belgian Catholic orientalist who lived most of his life in Lebanon, rejected this theory and ar gued that the Arab conquests were launched because Arabs love incursions.155 Lammens’ theory demonstrates his polemical approach toward Islam.

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Those great historians, in my view , put the cart before the horse when they argued that the Muslim futūḥ were mainly caused by migratingArab tribesmen who were lustful for raids and incursions. However, the maghāzī succeeded in Arabia before the futūḥ did outside the Peninsula. Moreover, if the Muslims truly desired to escape the desert, one may wonder why this decision was made at this specific time, instead of a century before or afterward. Over all, those theories represent a reasonable attempt to provide non-religious answers for what motivated the Muslim expansion, yet they do not seem to consider the broader picture of this phenomenon. By 1924, as Donner traces the development of theories on the conquests, a new shift occurred in discussion of the motives for the Muslim conquests. German scholar Carl Heinrich Becker (1876–1933), rejecting the nationalist (migration) theory, argued that successful Arab wars resulted in more wars, which were fol lowed by the migration of Arabs to Greater Syria and other neighboring places. That is, the conquests themselves unleashed the massive Arab migrations.156 Becker, however, still did not seem to believe the conquests were religiously motivated activities. Instead, he argued that they were stimulated primarily by the desire to gain the wealth of the conquered lands.157 By shifting the focus of the motivations for the launching of the futūḥ from the migration theory to the economically driven activities, Becker established a new precedent in scholarship, though the religious factor was still absent from the Western arguments.158 Until 1956, Donner observes, Western scholars tended to view the Muslim expansion as a process motivated by economic reasons, though some of them still emphasized the “mass migration” argument. The proclamation of Islam was not generally stressed as a motivation by Westerners. A significant shift took place in 1956, when Georges Henri Bousquet published his “Observations on the Nature and Causes of the Arab Conquest,”159 arguing that Western scholars have missed the point by ignoring the religious factor as a major motive for the launching of the conquests. According to Donner, Bousquet’s main argument was that the Islamic Prophet was well known not only as a tribal leader , but also as a bearer of a religious message, which reflects the religious element.160 Bousquet’s theory, however, is challenged by the fact that, in the early raids and conquests, Muslims were not intentional about proclaiming their faith or forcing the conversion of the conquered peoples.161 This contradicts the idea that religion was a primary motivation, especially once we consider that the Qur’ān was not yet compiled. John bar Penkaye, a monk of the Church of the East who lived in Mesopotamia during the seventh century, reports, “there was no distinction between pagan and Christian, the believer was not known from a Jew.”162 According to Donner, Bousquet attempted to defend his theory by explaining that the unforced conversion did not prove the Muslim conquerors were not religiously motivated , but instead that the expansion was not uniform—there were different phases of conquest.163

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Almost a decade after Bousquet, Scottish historian William Montgomery Watt (1909–2006) viewed the conquests as a series of political operations, diluting the religious motive for their launching: “The great expansion of the Islamic state, as already noted, was essentially a political and not a religious expansion.”164 For Watt, the main goal of the military operations “was material gain,” and not “the conversion of those attacked.”165 A little over a decade after Watt’s arguments, Fred Donner, a leading Islamicist and historian of Islamic origins in the English-speaking world, published his Early Islamic Conquests, in which he demonstrated that the Arab armies consisted of many tribes united by Islam, instead of merely the Arab sociocultural identity. He concludes, “the appearance of the unifying ideology of Islam, coupled with the skillful use of both traditional and novel means of political consolidation, resulted in the emergence under Muḥammad and Abū Bakr of a new state that was able to organize and dominate more effectively than ever before the different tribal groups of the Arabian peninsula.”166 Therefore, it appears that while the Muslim traditional approach typically tends to focus solely on the religiousmotivation for the conquests, the non-Muslim, particularly Western, approach attempts to provide non-religious factors to question the intensely theological Muslim argument. While it is relatively convenient to choose one motivation over another, it seems more likely that several factors were at work in initiating the futūḥ. Muhammad appeared as a social and religious leader, declaring Islam as a religious unifying power among the Arabs. My thesis is that the religious nature of the Muslim umma cannot be denied, yet it is incorrect to overemphasize it. Muhammad’s religious proclamation and his role as a tribal leader have created a social, religious, and political integration, which resulted in the establishment of a unique, strong, and unified Muslim umma. This newly founded, ascendant umma succeeded through Muhammad’s maghāzī to overcome various tribes around it (such as the Quraysh). After his death, his successors continued the task through the futūḥ outside Arabia. Donner rightly assets that the conquests were, in part, “the result of the superior level of social and political integration introduced into Arabian society by the rise of Islam, which resulted in the crystallization of an embryonic state and put at its disposal the resources of manpower needed to fuel the expansion.”167

Conclusion This review is meant to offer an overview of literature, arguments, and theories, which pertain to my investigation. While not an exhaustive review of the available primary sources and secondary studies on futūḥ and maghāzī, it identifies the major primary sources used in this study and their main characteristics, as well as

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summarizes and synthesizes the arguments found in secondary literature (Muslim and non-Muslim). A survey of the Muslim and non-Muslim approaches to the historical accounts was provided, which emphasized the views of the positivists (traditionalists) and skeptics (revisionists), and explained the major problems found in the Arabic Muslim sources. By bringing sunnī, shīᶜī, muᶜtazilī, and ṣūfī Muslim works to the discussion as well as non-Muslim theories and arguments, this literature review aims to be as thorough as possible.

Notes 1. The term “primary” is problematic, as in the study of history a primary material is a source of data that was formed at the time of the events under study. This is not applicable in the case of the Arabic Muslim sources. See more on this matter below. 2. Donner, Narratives, 1. He lists some events of the Islamic origins, such as the revelation and compilation of the Qur’ān, the establishment of the Muslim umma and its expansion, and others. 3. Berg, “Preface,” in Method and Theory, ed. idem, ix. See also Berg, The Development of Exegesis in Early Islam, 1–3, where he contrasts traditionalists with revisionists, focusing on the ḥadīth tradition. 4. Donner, Narratives, 4. The term “literary” source, according to Donner, indicates “any written source other than a contemporary document” (2). 5. See Ibn al-Ḍarīs (d. 294/906), Faḍā’il al-Qur’ān, 71ff; Abdel Haleem, The Qur’ān, ix, where he states, “the Qur ’an is the word of God, revealed to the Prophet Muhammad via the archangel Gabriel, and intended for all times and all places.” For another sunnī perspective, see the well-known work on the Qur’ān by al-Suyūṭī (d. 911/1505), al-Itqān, 1:117– 130. For a ṣūfī perspective, see al-Ghazālī (d. 505/1111), Iḥyā’ ᶜulūm al-dīn, 3:495–497, and ᶜAbd al-Qādir al-Jīlānī (d. 561/1166), al-Ghunya li-ṭālibī ṭarīq al-ḥaqq, 1:130–132, 1:195–207, 2:7–9. 6. See in specific sūrat al-Burūj (Q 85:22): fī lawḥin maḥfūẓin (in a guarded [or preserved] tablet). See Sayyid Quṭb’s (d. 1386/1966) commentary Fī ẓilāl al-Qur’ān, 6:3871–3876; Muqātil ibn Sulaymān (d. 150/767), Tafsīr Muqātil, 3:472, where he asserts that it has been kept in heaven since qabl an yukhlaqū (before they [people] were created) (hereafter Muqātil 3:472). See Suyūṭī (d. 911/1505), al-Itqān, 1:125. For a shīᶜī perspective, see Abū al-Ḥasan al-Sharīf al-Raḍī (d. 406/1015), Talkhīṣ al-bayān ᶜan majāzāt al-Qur’ān, 41. For secondary studies on the celestial tablet, see Mondher Sfar, In Search of the Original Koran, 35; Peters, A Reader, 170–173. 7. See Abū al-Ḥassan al-Qummī, Tafsīr, 2:414–415. Al-Qummī (d. ca. 307/919) is a shīᶜī authority in tafsīr. 8. Abū al-Qāsim al-Zamakhsharī, al-Kashshāf, 1:235. See also an older commentary by ᶜAbd al-Razzāq (d. 211/827), Tafsīr, 3:405. On the Muᶜtazilites, see the introductory work by Waines, An Introduction, 114–120. 9. See Ibn Taymiyya, Majmūᶜat al-fatāwā, 1:9 and 28:1 19, where he, in response to the Muᶜtazilite theology, asserts that the Qur’ān is not created, and insists that the “true”

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1 3. 14. 15.

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Muslim must be aggressive with anyone who claims the createdness of the Qur’ān. See also idem, Dar’ taᶜāruḍ al-ᶜaql wa-l-naql, 1:38, and especially 1:256. For another earlier sunnī (ḥanbalī) perspective, see Ibn Qudāma al-Maqdisī (d. 620/1223), Risāla fī al-Qur’ān wa kalām Allāh, 30ff; idem, al-Munāẓara, 20–23; on the createdness of the Qur’ān, see his al-Mughnī, 2:137, 9:504–505. Quṭb, Maᶜālim fī al-ṭarīq, 15–16. Regarding Quṭb and his approaches, see Rippin, Muslims, 235–238; Waines, Introduction, 245, 251; also Donohue and Esposito, eds., Islam in Transition, 103. Mitwallī al-Shaᶜrāwī, al-Fatāwā, 38–39; idem, Muᶜjizat al-Qur’ān, 1:6, where he argues that the real miracle is the balāgha (linguistic eloquence, or aesthetic effectiveness) in the Qur’ān (1: 10, 33–44); see also idem, Khawāṭirī ḥawl al-Qur’ān, 1:12–13, where he states that it is a miracle not only for a limited time but also until the Day of Judgment, and that when science discovers a new phenomenon, it already matches what we find in the Qur’ān (1:14). Moreover, he argues that to define what the Qur’ān really is, one needs go for something beyond human measures (1:16), as it is kalām Allāh (Allah’s word) nazzalahu ᶜalā Rasūlih (that he caused to come down to his messenger) with the aim to challenge humankind, and to show them manhaj Allāh (Allah’s method)” (1:17). Ḥusayn, Fī al-shiᶜr al-jāhilī, 38. For another modern reformer Muslim approach on the Qur’ān, see Muḥammad Arkūn (d. 1431/2010), al-Qur’ān min al-tafsīr al-mawrūth ilā taḥlīl al-khiṭāb al-dīnī, 11–92; idem, al-Fikr al-islāmī: naqd wa ijtihād, 73–102. See Ḥusayn, Fī al-shiᶜr al-jāhilī, 84 and 94, respectively. See Ḥusayn, Fī al-shiᶜr al-jāhilī, 89 and 82–83, respectively. ᶜAbd al-Karīm, al-Qur’ān: al-naṣṣ al-mu’assiss wa mujtamaᶜih, 1:1, 21, 39–40. See al-Sijistānī, Kitāb al-maṣāḥif; Motzki, “Muṣḥaf,” in Encyclopaedia of the Qur’ān, ed. Jane McAuliffe, 3:463ff (hereafter EQ, 3:463ff). ᶜAbd al-Karīm, Qur’ān, 1:33–34. He writes on verses that were proclaimed to fulfill Muhammad’s own desires (1:45–155), and others to fulfill the lustful needs of the ṣaḥāba (companions) (1:231–244). Such a treatment of the text of the Qur’ān is undoubtedly rejected by conservative Muslims, to say the least. See also the valuable works of the renowned Muslim author Naṣr Ḥāmid Abū Zayd, al-Imām al-Shāfiᶜī, 9–33, where he discusses the existence of non-Arabic foreign words in the Qur’ān and how Imām Shāfiᶜī treated the issue; and idem, al-naṣṣ, al-sulṭa, al-ḥaqīqa, 16–19, where he emphasizes the authority of religious texts and argues for interpretations that suit the culture and society of the reader’s day. See also his Dirāsa fī ᶜulūm al-Qur’ān; idem, Falsafat al-ta’wīl; idem, al-Itijāh al-ᶜaqlī fī al-tafsīr. Abū ᶜAlī al-Ṭabarsī, al-Iḥtijāj, 1:225–228. See similar report by al-Kulaynī (d. 329/941) in his al-Kāfī, 2:633. This report is also mentioned in one of the earliest shīᶜī sources by Sulaym ibn Qays (d. 76/695), Kitāb Sulaym, 147. Ibn Qays is usually considered one of the faithful companions of ᶜAlī by the shīᶜī Muslims, while sunnī Muslims view him as an anti-Umayyad polemical figure. On Sulaym and his book, see Masᶜūdī, al-Tanbīh wa-l-ishrāf, 198–199; Ibn al-Nadīm, al-Fihrist, 1:219; Shaykh al-Mufīd (d. 413/1022), Taṣḥīḥ, 149–150; Najāshī (d. 450/1058), Rijāl, 8; Ṭūsī (d. 460/1068), al-Fihrist, 81; idem, Rijāl, 66, 94, 101, 114, and 136; idem, Ikhtiyār, 99–100; Ibn al-Muṭahhar al-Ḥillī (d. 726/ 1325), Khulāṣat, 223–224; Ziriklī, al-Aᶜlām, 3:119. See also Moktar Djebli, “Sulaym b. Kays,” in EI2, 9:818–819. On the authenticity of Kitāb Sulaym, see Modarressi, Tradition and Survival, 82–83; Amir-Moezzi, The Silent Qur’ān, 13–22.

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18. Ibn Yaᶜqūb al-Kulaynī, al-Kāfī, 2:634. The Qur’ān as we possess it today includes a little above 6,000 verses. Of course, the argument can be made that the 17,000 figure is simply a different verse arrangement. See al-Kulaynī’s al-Kāfī English translation by Sheikh Muhammad Sarwar 2:491. 19. Amir-Moezzi, The Divine Guide in Early Shi’ism, 79ff. See also the shīᶜī authority ᶜAlī al-Kūrānī, Tadwīn al-Qur’ān, 99–107, where he states that even the faithful sunnī Muslims believe in the existence of these two chapters, and their omission was based on a decision made by al-Bukhārī (105). For more about this shīᶜī scholar, see his official website http:// www.alameli.net/ (accessed May 20, 2016). See also Marcinkowski, “Some Reflections on Alleged Twelver Shīᶜite Attitudes toward the Integrity of the Qurʼān,” 137–139; idem, Shi’ite Identities, 49ff. On the shīᶜī variants, see Small, Textual Criticism and Qur’ān Manuscripts, 122ff. For variants in general, see Shady Nasser, The Transmission of the Variant Readings of the Qur’ān. 20. Alphonse Mingana lists various contradictory reports on the collection and transmission of the Qur’ān, and asserts that “A study of Shiᶜah books reveals also some variants derived from the recension of ᶜAlī’s disciples.” See Mingana, “The Transmission of the Koran,” 223–232; reprinted in The Origins, ed. Ibn Warraq, quote is on p. 104. 21. Moojan Momen, An Introduction to Shīᶜī Islam, 81, 172. See also Meir Bar-Asher, “Shīᶜism and the Qur’ān,” in EQ, 4:593ff. 22. See, for example, Kūrānī al-ᶜĀmilī, Tadwīn al-Qur’ān, 243–245. 23. Kūrānī al-ᶜĀmilī, Tadwīn al-Qur’ān, 51–53, 63 (for interpolations and omissions), and 67 (for “missing” and “fabricated” chapters. 24. The shīᶜī Muslims view these sunnī claims as mere fantasies. In agreement with the shīᶜī views, Paul Casanova (d. 1926) asserts that the ᶜUthmānic recension has only a fanciful descent, or as he puts it “n’a qu’une filiation fantaisiste.” The quote is mentioned by Claude Gilliot, “Reconsidering the Authorship of the Qur’ān” in The Qur’ān in Its Historical Context, ed. Reynolds, 100. 25. Muḥammad ᶜAbd al-Laṭīf ibn al-Khaṭīb, Kitāb al-furqān, 45, 46, 50–52, 83–84, 90–91 (on interpolation and omission), and 50–51 (on al-Ḥajjāj). The book was first published in Egypt in 1948. See the important classical book of Ibn Abī Dāwūd al-Sijistānī, Kitāb al-maṣāḥif, 36–37. The book title suggests the existence of different codices. 26. Al-Sayyid ᶜAlī al-Mīlānī, ᶜAdam taḥrīf al-Qur’ān, 9. ᶜAlī al-Mīlānī is a well-known shīᶜī authority, and the founder of the Center of the Islamic Truths in al-Najaf. For more about him, see his official website http://www.al-milani.com/ (accessed May 21, 2016). The publisher here is Markaz al-abḥāth, which is concerned with advancing Shiism. See their official website http://www.aqaed.info/about/. It is noteworthy to mention that some Western scholars sometimes adopt the shīᶜī view regarding the collection of the Qur’ān. Arthur Jeffery asserts, “When the Prophet died the text of the Koran was thus already fixed, and all the material gathered in an orderly fashion though it had not yet been written out, at least not in a book form.” See Arthur Jeffery, “Materials for the History of the Text of the Koran,” in The Origins of the Koran, ed. Ibn Warraq, 116. 27. See ᶜAqqād, Mā yuqāl ᶜan al-Islām, 207–214, where he critiques al-mubashshirūn nuqqād al-Qur’ān (the missionaries, criticizers of the Qur’ān), rejecting the critical assessments of the Qur’ān of the Western Christian orientalists, such as Samuel Zwemer, calling him stupid. Rippin writes, “The perception of many Muslims towards a critical approach to the Qur’ān is of an attack from the outside.” Rippin, “The Qur’ān as Literature,” 38–39.

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28. For a quick survey of the developments of scholarly discussions regarding the Qur’ān, see Donner, Narratives, 35ff; idem, “Modern Approaches,” in The New Cambridge History of Islam, ed. Robinson, 1:623ff; Howard-Johnston, Witnesses, 355ff; Griffith, Bible in Arabic, 17; Reynolds, “Islamic Studies in the North America,” 55–73; Saeed, Reading the Qur’ān, 3–36; Campanini, The Qur’ān: Modern Muslim Interpretations; Schöller, “Post-Enlightenment Academic Study of the Qurʾān” in EQ, 4:187–205; Rippin, “Western Scholarship and the Qur’ān,” in The Cambridge Companion to the Qur’ān, ed. McAuliffe, 235–255; Zadeh, ”Qur’ānic Studies and the Literary Turn,” 329–42. 29. Sfar, In Search of the Original Koran, 40–48; See also the important article of the German Arabist and Islamicist August Fischer (1865–1949), “A Qur’ānic Interpolation,” in What the Koran Really Says, ed. Ibn Warraq, 436–460. For a recent study on applying textual criticism to the Qur’ān, see Keith Small, Textual Criticism. 30. These arguments are mostly from John Wansbrough. See Wansbrough, Qur’anic Studies, 12; idem, The Sectarian Milieu, 147; idem, “Res Ipsa Loquitur,” in Method and Theory, ed. Berg, 7. According to Robinson, Wansbrough “pushed the closure of the Qur’ānic text into the late second/eighth or early third/ninth centuries.” See Robinson, “Reconstructing Early Islam,” in Method and Theory, ed. Berg, 132. On Wansbrough’s arguments, see Reynolds, “Introduction,” in The Qur’ān in Its Historical Context, ed. idem, 12; Donner, Narratives, 35ff. Harald Motzki, too, explains that Wansbrough argued that the Qur’ān is better to be viewed as a created text that is compiled by choosing fragments of “originally independent traditions.” See Motzki, “Alternative Accounts of the Qur’ān’s Formation” in Companion, ed. Jane McAuliffe, 60. See also Dashti, Twenty Three Years, 48–49. 31. See the important articles by James Bellamy: “Some Proposed Emendations to the Text of the Koran,” 562–573; idem, “More Proposed Emendations,” 196–204; idem, “Textual Criticism,” 1–6. 32. For instance, Robinson, speaking of discontinuity problems in traditional Muslim narratives, asserts: “One may take the Ḥijāz out of the desert and put it into mainstream of late antique ideas, or one may take the engineers of earliest Islam—in effect, the ‘author(s)’ of the Qur’ān—out of Arabia and put them in second/eighth-or third/ninth-century Iraq or Syria.” See Robinson, “Reconstructing,” in Method and Theory, ed. Berg, 132. See also Claude Gilliot, who questions the reliability of the traditional explanation concerning the Muslim scripture. Gilliot, “Creation of a Fixed Text,” in Companion, ed. McAuliffe, 41–53. 33. According to the traditional Muslim view, oral transmission was completely accurate and is a key factor of trust in an authentic and reliable transmitted text. Rippin disagrees, and asserts that the existence of various qirā’āt (reading variants) sheds doubt on the traditional view of oral transmission. For him, these variants suggest that the text we have today is a later development of a series of redaction stages. He argues that there seems to be a gradual editing process applied on the text that meant to provide an interpretive edition. For Rippin, these variants serve as interpretive attempts added to the Qur’ānic text in later stages. See Rippin, “The Qur’ān as Literature,” 38–47. Rippin, in this regard, agrees with Wansbrough, who believes (as Motzki puts it) that “variants show that the text passed through ‘different stages of literary elaboration and that they were originally ‘independent, possibly regional, traditions incorporated more or less intact’, or sometimes slightly edited, into the canonical compilation of the Qur’ān.” See Motzki, “Alternative Accounts,” in Companion, ed. McAuliffe, 61.

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3 4. Fred Donner, “The Historical Context,” in Companion, ed. McAuliffe, 35. 35. See in particular Christoph Luxenberg, The Syro-Aramaic Reading of the Koran, 30 n. 20; see Günter Lüling, A Challenge to Islam for Reformation, 1–25. On Luxenberg and Lüling, see Reynolds, Biblical Subtext, 3–36. 36. See Dūrī 12–13, and the valuable Arabic study by Shākir Muṣṭafā, al-Ta’rīkh al-ᶜarabī, 1:57ff. For skeptical views on the isnād, see Hakim, “Conflicting Images,” in Method and Theory, ed. Berg, 159ff; for valuable attempts to wrestle with the challenges of isnād, see the works of Motzki, “Dating Muslim Traditions,” 204–253; idem, “The Muṣannaf,” 1–21. On the valuable methodology of Motzki to determine authentic aḥādīth, see the assessment of Berg, “Competing Paradigms,” in Method and Theory, ed. idem, 260. Calling Motzki and scholars like him “sanguine,” Berg argues that although they are still not convincing to skeptical scholars, “they have conclusively shown that [some] ḥadīths are largely authentic” (260). 37. Dūrī 20–21; and Muṣṭafā, al-Ta’rīkh al-ᶜarabī, 1:52–57. See the survey in Howard-Johnston, Witnesses, 354–393. For more on pre-Islamic Arabic writings, particularly Jewish and Christian, see Griffith, The Bible in Arabic, 7–53, especially his conclusion at 41–53. 38. Dūrī 21, 72. For more arguments on the compilation of the Qur’ān, see below, as I describe the non-Muslim theories, especially the revisionists’ views. 39. Dūrī 23. On maghāzī, see below the section entitled, “Arabic Primary Sources.” 40. Dūrī 24. See Hinds, Studies in Early Islamic History, 188–189. For the terms sunna and isnād in their connection with the tradition of Muhammad’s life, see Schacht, The Origins, 2–4; and idem, An Introduction, 15–22. 41. Ibn Khaldūn, Muqaddima, 1:318; Borrut, Entre mémoire, 37. Martinez-Gros, L’idéologie omeyyade, 20–21. See Robinson, Islamic Historiography, 13, where he rightly observes that “history can also reflect biases and prejudices, for it, too, can have clear social and political functions.” 42. As reported by Muḥammad Ibn Saᶜd, Kitāb al-ṭabaqāt al-kabīr, 2:334 (hereafter Ibn Saᶜd 2:334). See Gregor Schoeler, Écrire et transmettre, 55; translated as The Genesis of Literature in Islam. See also Borrut, “Vanishing Syria: Periodization and Power in Early Islam,” on the ᶜAbbāsīd’s influence on constructing and forgetting the past. Robinson rightly observes that some transmitters “were not simply taking liberties with texts: they were generating the texts themselves.” Robinson, Historiography, 38. See Christian Décobert, Le mendiant et le combattant, 34, where he states, “une sédimentation est reparable.” See also Borrut, Entre, 17; Donner, Narratives, 276–282. 43. Wellhausen, Das arabische Reich, xii; Borrut, Entre mémoire, 37, 102, 118. Das arabische reich und sein sturz is translated as The Arab Kingdom and its Fall in 1927. 44. See the brilliant work of Borrut, Entre mémoire, ch. 1, especially 37–40, as he demonstrates the attention Muᶜāwiya paid to history. After listing various examples of the existence of history writing in Umayyad Syria, he analyzes the possible layers of historical writings and the scrupulous work of transmission, as well as the mobilization of authorities, Syrian and Madinan by the Umayyad caliphs, and also the question of the future of this collection. Robinson believes it began as early as the rise of Islam itself. Robinson, Islamic Historiography, 14. 45. Robinson, Historiography, 86, 88, 97; Khalidi, Arabic Historical Thought, 17ff. 46. Dūrī 27–28. Al-Zuhrī relied on ḥadīth to write the sīra, according to Dūrī.

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47. Dūrī 39. Concerning Mūsā, see Rosenthal, Muslim Historiography, 322, 436. On al-Wāqidī and others, see the critical assessment of Michael Lecker, “Wāqidī’s Account,” 15–32. Lecker reflects on historical reports by al-Zuhrī, al-Wāqidī, al-Bayhaqī, and al-Aṣfahānī, and others, and critically assesses them regarding one historical incident, concluding, “I submit that the passage, in its present form in Wāqidī’s book, is corrupt” (15). 48. Dūrī 39. Al-Wāqidī’s style and methods are critiqued in some scholarly works. Rizwi Faizer writes on the alleged plagiarism of al-Wāqidī: “[al-Wāqidī] had taken much from Ibn Isḥāq without acknowledgment.” Faizer, “Muhammad and the Medinan Jews,” 463. Crone disagrees with Faizer: “Wāqidī did not plagiarize Ibn Isḥāq, but he did not offer an independent version of the Prophet’s life, either; what he, Ibn Isḥāq, and others put together were simply so many selections from a common pool of qaṣṣ material. And it is for the same reason that they came to agree on the historicity of events that never took place.” See Crone, Meccan Trade, 225. 49. Dūrī 40. 50. Khalidi, Arabic Historical Thought, 33; Robinson, Historiography, chapters 9–10; N. Partner, “The New Cornificius: Medieval History,” in Medieval Historiography, ed. E. Breisach, 11. Rosenthal observes, “With the ninth century, the formative period of these processes was completed.” Rosenthal, Historiography, 31. 51. Dūrī 61–64. On al-Balādhurī, see the introduction of the editor S. D. Goitein to Ansāb al-ashrāf, 9–16. See Faizer, “Ibn Isḥāq,” 5, where he argues that al-Balādhurī relied on al-Wāqidī, while al-Ṭabarī on Ibn Isḥāq. 52. Dūrī 64–67. See also Rosenthal, Muslim Historiography, 114–116. 53. Dūrī 65–72. For more on these writers, see below, “Arabic Primary Sources Used in this Study.” 54. See Ṭabarī 4:2156. Donner, Conquests, 111. Donner points out “Chronological discrepancies and obscurities abound, as do flat contradictions in the meaning of events or even, less frequently, on their fundamental course.” Donner, Narratives, 4–5. See also Kennedy, The Prophet, 347ff. 55. Donner, Narratives, 4. Robinson, Historiography, 19–20. 56. Kennedy, Conquests, 4. 57. See Howard-Johnston, Witnesses, 358ff. In discussing the late date of writing, Rosenthal observes, “For one, it was desirable [for Muslims] to project back the existence of a civilization based upon writing, which developed during the eighth century, into the earliest times of Islam.” Rosenthal, Historiography, 130. See also Humphreys, History, 69–91; Donner, Narratives, 112–122, 203–208; Robinson, Historiography, 8–17; idem, “The Study of Islamic Historiography,” 209. 58. Donner, Narratives, 20. On this, see Kennedy, The Prophet, 347ff; also the comments of Hoyland in his recent study, God’s Path, 231ff. Fred Donner critiques Hoyland’s interpretation of the conquests and states it “seems so stubbornly wrong-headed.” Donner, “Review of Robert Hoyland’s In God’s Path,” 140. 59. See Berg, “Competing Paradigms,” in Method and Theory, ed. idem, 260. 60. Donner, “Introduction,” in The Expansion, ed. idem, xxviii. 61. See Gregor Schoeler, “Foundations for A New Biography of Muhammad” in Method and Theory, ed. Berg, 21, where he, in what seems to be critical of the traditionalists, observes that “The difficulty certainly consists of finding criteria by which the genuine is to be

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differentiated from spurious.” Compare with Rippin, “Literary Analysis,” in Approaches to Islam in Religious Studies, ed. Martin, 156. Donner, “The Historical Context” in Companion, 34. He observes that this evidence includes inner contradictions, numerological symbolism, structural hints connecting sīra with the Qur’ān, idealized view of the Prophet, elaborating on biblical tropes, and so forth. Donner believes that the skeptical approach is taking it too far, calling it the “radical” approach. Donner, Narratives, 20. For him, the three less skeptical categories are the descriptive, source-critical, and tradition-critical approaches. Donner, Narratives, 5–20; needless to say there is no clear-cut distinction between these groups. Donner, Narratives, 6–7. For more on the development of scholarly works on Islamic origins, see Norman Daniel, Islam and the West, 294–301. Donner, Narratives, 6–7. See also William Muir, Life of Mahomet, especially ch. 1 on Muhammad’s birth (pp. 1–10), and ch. 7 on his midnight journey to Jerusalem (pp. 125ff). One can hardly find any critical observations in Muir’s retold story. Similar example is Hitti, The Arabs, 23–30 (on Muhammad’s beginnings), 32–40 (on the Qur’ān). Donner calls this category “descriptive approach.” Donner, Narratives, 8. Ignaz Goldziher, Mohammed and Islam, vii. In the introduction of this book, Morris Jastrow rightly observes, “Through the publication during the past fifty years of a large number of Arabic sources for the study of Mohammedanism, before that accessible only in the manuscript collections of European libraries, our knowledge of the origin and course of Islam, and more particularly of the development of Islamic theology in the various countries to which the religion spread, has been greatly extended” (vii). Donner, Narratives, 287–290; Humphreys, Islamic History, 87–ff; Robinson, Historiography, 152; Borrut, Entre mémoire, Chapter 1. Speaking of non-Skeptics, Berg writes that “scholars such as Abbott, Sezgin, and Azami have argued that despite the fact that there is virtually no extant written material from the first two centuries of Islam, the later collections of the third and fourth centuries contain an accurate record of the past.” See Berg, “Competing Paradigms,” in Method and Theory, 259. On Abbott and Sezgin, see Berg, The Development, 18–22. Borrut, Entre mémoire, 36. Rippin, “Literary Analysis,” in Approaches to Islam in Religious Studies, ed. Martin, 156. For more on the two approaches, see Berg, “Implications,” 3–22; idem, “Competing Paradigms,” in Methods, ed. Berg, 259–263. Donner, “Introduction,” in The Expansion, ed. idem, xxviii–xxxi; idem, Narratives, 20–31. Goldziher, Muslim Studies, 2:15:274. See Donner, Narratives, 13–14. Donner does not consider Goldziher a skeptic, placing him on the edge between traditionalistsand revisionists, and thereby identifying him with the tradition-critical approach (13–16). See Schacht, “A Revaluation,” 143–154. On that Donner writes, “The most important were works dealing with Islamic tradition and law by Ignaz Goldziher and, a generation later, Joseph Schacht.” Donner, “Introduction,” in The Expansion, ed. idem, xxviii. On Goldziher and Schacht, see Berg, The Development, 8–16. Or as Motzki puts it: “fictional literature.” See Motzki, “Alternative,” in Companion, ed. McAuliffe, 60. Wansbrough, The Sectarian Milieu, ix, 118–19; idem, “Res ipsa loquitur,” in Method and Theory, ed. Berg, 10–19. The “salvation history” works, according to Rippin, “start from

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the proposition that the literary records of salvation history, although presenting themselves as being contemporary with the events they describe, actually belong to a period well after such events which suggests that they have been written according to later points of view in order to fit the purposes of that later time.” Rippin, “Literary Analysis,” 155– 156. He points out that from a salvation history standpoint, “The actual ‘history’ in the sense of ‘what really happened’ has become totally subsumed within later interpretation and is virtually, if not totally, inextricable from it” (156), or in other words, “The records we have are the existential records of the thought and faith of later generations” (156). Motzki, “Alternative Accounts,” in Companion, ed. McAuliffe, 60. Donner points out that Wansbrough, following earlier writers such as Lammens, argued the traditional accounts of the Biography of Muhammad “do not represent an independent body of informationthat might be used to understand the text of the Qur’ān, but rather were fabricated precisely to explain various verses of the Qur’ān.” Donner, “Historical Context,” in Companion, ed. McAuliffe, 33. It is worth noting that there are two important critical articles for Lammens on the Qur’ān: “Koran and Tradition—How the Life of Muhammad Was Composed” and “The Age of Muhammad and the Chronology of the Sira” in The Quest for the Historical Muhammad, ed. Ibn Warraq. See also Faizer, “Ibn Isḥāq and Al-Wāqidī Revisited,” where he argues that sīra-maghāzī is not a historical genre, but “hagiographic in spirit.” For some explanation of Wansbrough’s theories, see Reynolds, Subtext, 12ff; Rippin, “Literary Analysis,” 152–158; idem, “Qur’ānic Studies,” 39–46; Robinson, “Reconstructing Early Islam,” in Method and Theory, ed. Berg, 132; Motzki, “Alternative Accounts,” in Companion, ed. McAuliffe, 60–62. Wansbrough is considered by Berg as “one of the most prominent ‘revisionists’ or ‘skeptics.’” Berg, “Preface,” in Method, ed. idem, x. Michael Cook, Muhammad, 65. Hakim, “Conflicting Images of Lawgivers,” in Method and Theory, ed. Berg, 159. Hakim appears convinced the ḥadīth traditions do not necessarily reflect Muhammad’s utterances: “These ideas and beliefs, conceived in the first era of Islam and shaped by various influences, were projected backwards in time in order to provide them [the Muslim scholars who produced and circulated these traditions], by means of chains of transmitters (isnāds), with the authority of the people considered by Muslim community to be the founders of Islam” (159). Burton, The Collection, chs. 1, 6–10. In explaining Burton’s argument, Motzki writes: “traditions (ḥadīth) do not pass on historical facts about the time and persons they purport to report on, but reflect the opinions of later Muslim scholars who used the traditions to substantiate their own views.” Motzki, “Alternative Accounts,” 62. Robert Brunschvig, “Ibn ᶜAbd Al-Ḥakam,” in The Expansion, ed. Donner, 189–228. Cook, Muhammad, 75–76; Crone and Cook, Hagarism, 8. It should be noted that Crone and Cook later rejected some of their own arguments from this book. Stephen Shoemaker, The Death of a Prophet, 1–17, especially 2–3, as he examines the earliest Greek source that speaks of Muhammad alive in 634, two years after his reported death in the Muslim traditions. Crone, Slaves on Horses, 230. Crone, Meccan Trade, 230. Yehuda Nevo and Judith Koren, Crossroads to Islam, 8, 347, 348. Nevo relies on Christian, instead of Muslim, literature, in addition to archaeological excavations and rock

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inscriptions. He concludes that Arabs established hegemony and conquered lands while they were still pagans, and only after “establishing control, the new Arab elite adopted a simple monotheism influenced by Judaeo-Christianity.” Crone, Slaves, 10. Donner seems to respond to Crone’s statement at Donner, Narratives, 20. Humphreys, Islamic History, 88. Robinson, Empire and Elites, viii. Accordingly, Gregor Schoeler offers an interesting solution in his treatment of Muhammad’s biography. He is convinced that neither “the extensive trust in Muslim transmission” [traditionalist views like those of F. Sezgin and W.M. Watt] nor “the total rejection of the traditional material” [revisionist views like Wansbrough, Crone, and Cook] is successful. He asserts that “a middle way must be found,” and “The correctness of this middle way will arise, it is hoped, from the compilation and evaluation of a corpus of traditions that are attributed by Islamic transmission to the earliest historical researcher (collector of historical reports), from ᶜUrwah b. al-Zubayr.” Schoeler’s point regarding the tradition is ambitious. Schoeler, “Foundations,” in Method, ed. Berg, 22. See Robinson, Historiography, 172–177; Clanchy, From Memory to Written Record, ch. 9; Geary, Memory, 111–122; Borrut, “Vanishing,” on how memory is affected by power in the ᶜAbbāsīd’s construction of the past. See also Hirschler, The Written Word in the Medieval Arabic Lands; Innes, “Memory, Orality and Literacy.” Currently, I am working on my second PhD, focusing on how early Muslims remembered conversion to Islam. For some apparent problems in the available sources, see Kaegi, Byzantium, 2–14; Shoemaker, The Death of a Prophet, 6–8 and 18–20; Donner, Narratives, 4–5; Rosenthal, Muslim Historiography, 6–7. Thus, like Sarah Savant, “I prefer, then, the risk of overstating the plasticity of our sources for the benefit of querying them.” Savant, New Muslims of Post-Conquest Iran, 14. See the classic work by the German Orientalist Josef Horovitz (1874–1931), The Earliest Biographies. Dūrī 76. Regarding ᶜUrwa ibn al-Zubayr, see al-Iṣfahānī, Ḥilyat al-awliyā’, 2:176–183. Dūrī 24, 76. See also Hinds, Studies in Early Islamic History, 188. Dūrī 79–88. Dūrī 25. Dūrī presents a thorough study on the earliest development of maghāzī, particularly the earliest reports of ᶜUrwa, who was not very concerned with the isnād, which signifies the concerns of his days (23–25). For more on ᶜUrwa, see Dūrī 90–100, 132–133; Donner, Narratives, 148; Robinson, Historiography, 19, 23–24. Like Dūrī, Shākir Muṣṭafā adopts the argument of the two major historiographical schools, al-Ta’rīkh al-ᶜarabī, 1:149–200. Noth/Conrad, The Early Arabic, 17. On this point, Borrut points out that a good example of the connection and exchange between these different intellectual historiographical centers appears in the existence of common core information concerning the early history of Islam. Borrut, Entre mémoire, 35. Moreover, Robinson argues that the narrative of the Conquest of Khūzistān “offers yet another illustration of how the ‘schools theory’ of the early tradition fails us.” Robinson, “The Conquest of Khūzistān,” 38. See also Mourad, “On Early Islamic Historiography,” 588. Dūrī trusts the reports of ᶜUrwa and al-Zuhrī too much, which is problematic. He points out that the studies of ᶜUrwa (mainly his reports that reached us in other accounts) and al-Zuhrī

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demonstrate that the writers of the early sīra were not merely “storytellers,” but rather “scholars of ḥadīth with an admirable capacity for criticizing and scrutinizing the various accounts available to them.” Dūrī 30. For a critical perspective, see Robinson in Islamic Historiography as he compares ᶜUrwa and al-Zuhrī: ᶜUrwa (pp. 19, 23–24), and al–Zuhrī (pp. 19, 25, 26, 70, 122). 99. Donner, Narratives, 220. It should be noted that the complete works on maghāzī by al-Zuhrī and Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba are lost. The edited works I use here are scholarly collected accounts on Muhammad’s maghāzī attributed to these authors. I consult these works cautiously, as using the quotes of al-Zuhrī and Mūsā as found in later sources is problematic for several reasons: we cannot be certain of the reliability of the quote itself, nor of its preserved form in later sources. If the reliability of a quote is questionable, then we cannot assume it represents the original source without distortion. For more on this matter, see Landau-Tasseron, ”On the Reconstruction of Lost Sources,” 45–91; Borrut, Entre, 57–58; Hoyland, Seeing, 32. 100. Robinson, Historiography, 179. 101. Dūrī 36. 102. Dūrī 7, 36, 78, 130. Robinson, Historiography, on Ibn Isḥāq p. 25, and on Ibn Hishām p. 28. 103. Lecker, “Notes about Censorship and Self-Censorship in the Biography,” 233–54. 104. Dūrī 37–39, especially 38. 105. Donner, Narratives, 66, where he writes on al-Zuhrī as the source of al-Wāqidī. 106. Dūrī 38–39. Al-Wāqidī’s work is now available in English as The Life of Muḥammad, edited by Rizwi Faizer, et al. See the review of this book by Lecker, “Review of The Life of Muḥammad,” 717–719. 107. Abū ᶜAbdullāh al-Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī. See Robinson, Historiography, 29–30, 96–97; Donner, Narratives, 10, 168, 215, 265; Dūrī 37–38 on his critical attitude, sources, and isnād. 108. Robinson, Historiography, 122. 109. For well-known descriptions of Muhammad, see Schimmel, And Muhammad is His Messenger, 34. 110. Robinson, Historiography, 118; see also 135, 182. 111. Robinson, Historiography, 118. 112. Donner, Narratives, 174, as he argues, it is a “hegemony” theme, which is “concerned with the first large-scale conquests of the Muslims outside the Arabian peninsula,” according to Noth/Conrad, Arabic Tradition, 31. 113. Donner, Narratives, 174. For a good example of Islamic legitimation of the conquests, see Hinds, Studies in Early Islamic History, 199–231. See also Lewis, The Political Language of Islam, 93–94. Thus, this theme in the Muslim writings demonstrates an act of liberation by the Muslims to the conquered lands, by replacing illegitimate kingdoms with another righteous and divinely led one. Donner suggests that the term futūḥ should not be always rendered conquests. He argues that later Muslim writers described the episodes of the expansion “following a particular use of the word fatḥ in the Qur’ān, where it referred to an act of God’s grace that was favorable for the community.” Donner, “Arabic Fatḥ as ‘Conquest’ and its Origin in Islamic Tradition,” 1–14. 114. Noth/Conrad, Arabic Tradition, 31. See Dūrī on Futūḥ Miṣr (pp. 71–72), and on al-Buldān (pp. 61–64).

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115. It is not an easy task to deduce from the sources what motivated the conquests: “although everyone agrees on the paramount importance of the conquest as an historical phenomenon, few authors are in full agreement about its nature, and in particular, its causes.” See Donner, Islamic Conquests, 3. 116. Donner, Narratives, 175; Noth/Conrad, Arabic Historical Tradition, 32. 117. Suleiman Mourad, “On Early Islamic Historiography,” 577. 118. Kaegi, Byzantium, 11. 119. Kaegi, Byzantium, 12. 120. For more details on al-Azdī and his text, see Donner, Narratives, 175, 259, 306. 121. Robinson, Historiography, 43; Noth/Conrad, Arabic Tradition, 32; also Kaegi, Byzantium, 10. 122. Shoshan, Arabic Historical Tradition and the Early Islamic Conquests, ch. 1, especially 13–15. 123. Petersen, ᶜAlī and Muᶜāwiya, 136. 124. Donner, Narratives, 132–133. 125. Dūrī 61–64. 126. Petersen, ᶜAlī and Muᶜāwiya, 136; Kennedy, Conquests, 16. 127. Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam’s work is known for different titles: Kitāb Futūḥ Miṣr, Kitāb Futūḥ Miṣr wa Ifrīqiyā, Kitāb Futūḥ Miṣr wa-l-Maghrib, or Kitāb Futūḥ Miṣr wa-l-Maghrib wa-l-Andalus. 128. See Donner, Narratives, 135–136. 129. Noth/Conrad, The Early Arabic Historical Tradition, regarding the titles (p.120), contradicting reports in this work (pp. 8–9), and status of cities conquered (p. 36 n. 64); see also Dūrī 71. 130. Thus, Robinson observes that Ibn Aᶜtham flourished in the early ninth century. Robinson, Islamic Historiography, 34. Muṣṭafā, al-Ta’rīkh al-ᶜarabī, 2:42–43. 131. Donner, Narratives, 258. 132. Dūrī 66, 149, 150. Dūrī points out that al-Yaᶜqūbī presents the historical reports in a balanced way, though in some instances the reports sympathize with ᶜAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib with apparent shīᶜī tendencies. 133. Petersen, ᶜAlī and Muᶜāwiya, 169. 134. Donner, Narratives, 258, 168; see also Petersen, ᶜAlī and Muᶜāwiya, 167. 135. Dūrī 66. Donner points out that Ta’rīkh al-Yaᶜqūbī “is known for its moderate shīᶜī orientation; this shows up, for example, in the way the author speaks of Abū Bakr, ᶜUmar, ᶜUthmān, and the Umayyad and ᶜAbbāsīd rulers, reserving the term ‘caliphate’ (khilāfa) for the reigns of ᶜAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib and his son al-Ḥasan.” Donner, Narratives, 134. See also Petersen, ᶜAlī and Muᶜāwiya, 169–172. 136. Ibn Khaldūn, The Muqaddimah, (trans. Franz Rosenthal), 5–6. 137. See Robinson, “Islamic Historical Writing, Eighth through the Tenth Centuries” in The Oxford History of Historical Writing Vol 2, eds. Sarah Foot and Chase R. Robinson (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 238–265. Petersen, ᶜAlī and Muᶜāwiya, 149. See also Dūrī 70–71, 125–127. 138. Borrut, Entre mémoire, 103–107; Shoshan, Poetics of Islamic Historiography, chapters 2 and 3, pp. 61–107; Keaney, Remembering Rebellion, 13; Rosenthal, Historiography, 63; Gilliot, “Récit, mythe et histoire chez Ṭabarī.” 139. Speaking of the impact of Ta’rīkh al-Ṭabarī, Borrut concludes: “Pratiquement tous les développements suivants offriraient nombre d’interprétations nouvelles, mais le squelette

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historiographique n’était plus appelé à se transformer … peu importait les réinterprétations successives, puisque l’on avait déterminé le cadre d’un passé autorisé dans lequel elles étaient appelées à se couler.” Borrut, Entre mémoire, 108. 140. Dūrī 7, where he states, “Al-Ṭabarī, for example, is one of our outstanding sources; but a perusal of what he wrote about early Islam shows us that in fact we have before us a melange of the historians and other authors on whom al-Ṭabarī relied, like Abū Mikhnaf, Sayf ibn ᶜUmar, Ibn al-Kalbī, ᶜAwāna ibn al-Ḥakam, Naṣr ibn Muzāḥim, al-Madā’inī, ᶜUrwa ibn al-Zubayr, al-Zuhrī, Ibn Isḥāq, al-Wāqidī, Wahab ibn Munabbih, Kaᶜb al-Aḥbār, and so forth.” See also Petersen, ᶜAlī and Muᶜāwiya, 150, criticizing al-Ṭabarī’s use of sources. 141. Petersen, ᶜAlī and Muᶜāwiya, 149; Donner, Narratives, 127–131. 142. Robinson, “Islamic Historical Writing” in The Oxford History, ed. Foot and Robinson, 238–265; Kennedy, Arab Conquest, 16; Petersen, ᶜAlī and Muᶜāwiya, 149. 143. For more on al-Dīnawarī, see Petersen, ᶜAlī, 159–168; and Robinson, Historiography, 98. 144. Donner, Narratives, 134–135. Al-Dīnawarī mentions one sentence on the conquest of Egypt on p. 148. 145. I use the critical edition: Abū Ḥanīfa Aḥmad ibn Dāwūd al-Dīnawarī, Kitāb al-akhbār al-ṭiwāl, ed. Vladimir Jirjas (Leiden: Brill, 1888). 146. I also use Al-Bukhārī’s al-Ta’rīkh al-kabīr, which provides a very long list of reports that complement the reports gathered by the other histories in some instances. Robinson, Islamic Historiography, 66–67. 147. Robinson, Islamic Historiography, 22, 74, 99, 107, 130, 184. 148. Donner does not mention him in his Narratives; Robinson, Historiography, 64, 122, 134. 149. These are different visions of Islam that reflect various religious positions. However, we should not view Sufism and Muᶜtazilism as completely distinct groups within Islam. A ṣūfī Muslim, for instance, can be sunnī or shīᶜī, and Sufism can take many different forms. On the alternative visions of classical Islamic identity, see Rippin, Muslims, 119ff. On Sufism, see “Taṣawwuf,” in EI2, 10:313ff; Leaman, An Introduction to Classical Islamic Philosophy, 192–195; Arberry, Introduction to the History of Sufism; Nasr, Three Muslim Sages; Ormsby, Ghazali. On Muᶜtazilism, see Martin, et al., Defenders of Reason in Islam, 25–42. 150. See Chapter One for examples from classical, modern, and contemporary Muslim writings. 151. Donner, Conquests, 3. In this section, I rely chiefly on Donner’s valuable works: Early Islamic Conquests and The Expansion of the Early Islamic State. 152. Muir and Weir, The Caliphate, 45. 153. Muir and Weir, The Caliphate, 43; see Donner’s comments in Early Islamic Conquests, 3. 154. Donner, “Introduction,” in The Expansion, ed. idem, xix, who points out that among many, three important Western historians during that era ar gued for that nationalist theory: the German historian Hugo Winckler (1863–1913), the Italian Leone Caetani (1869–1935), and the eminent British orientalist Sir Thomas Walker Arnold (1864–1930). Their main argument centers on their conviction that in the early period of the expansion of the Muslim umma there seemed to be a significant religious tolerance, which reflects that the conquests were not primarily driven by religious convictions. See Arnold, The Preaching of Islam, 45–71. Concerning Leone Caetani, Donner points to Caetani’s famous work Annali Dell’islam and Studi Di Storia Orientale. 155. For Henri Lammens, see Donner, Conquests, 4, where he refers to Lammens’s Le Berceau De L’islam.

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156. See Becker, “The Expansion of the Saracens,” in Cambridge Medieval History, ed. Gwatkin, chs. 11, 12. 157. Donner suggests that Becker argued the early conquests were not necessarily deliberate or intentional, but as the Islamic State was expanding, the conquests became regular and well planned. Donner, Conquests, 5. 158. After Becker’s articles, scholars tended to either embrace his argument, or combine it with previous ones. However, there were still some scholars who argued for the migration of Arabs (due to famine and desert starvation) as a major cause of the Arab conquests. Lewis, The Arabs, 55. See Donner, Islamic Conquests, 5. 159. G. H. Bousquet, “Observations,” in The Expansion, ed. Donner, 23–35. 160. As a proof of his argument, Bousquet emphasized that it took less than a century after the beginning of the futūḥ to establish the religious law (al-fiqh) in the Islamic State, which demonstrates the religious nature of the Arab conquests. See Donner’s comments on Bousquet’s argument in Donner, Conquests, 5. 161. Relying on quantitative research, Bulliet demonstrates that conversion to Islam began at a slow rate, and it took centuries for Islam to become the religion of the majority. Bulliet, Conversion to Islam; idem, “Onomastic Evidence,” in Patronate and Patronage, ed. Bernards and Nawas, 246–262. Arnold, relying on von Kremer’s studies, adopts a polemical approach and argues that, “At the time of the first occupation of their country by the Arabs, the Christians appear to have gone over to Islam in very large numbers.” Arnold, Preaching, 81. However, Morony rightly disagrees and observes, “The belief in early mass conversion was endorsed by Arnold in spite of the lack of direct evidence.” Morony, “The Age of Conversions,” in Conversion and Continuity, eds. Gervers and Bikhazi, 135. See also Gaston Wiet, L’Egypte arabe de la conquête arabe, as he focuses on Egypt and argues that in the first eight decades or so, the effect of the Muslims was almost unnoticed on the Copts. For the case of Syria, see Tannous, “Syria between Byzantium and Islam,” 8, 405– 406. See also the Coptic scholar Atiya, History, 61–80; and Ramadan, Footsteps, 83–95. 162. This quote is cited in Hoyland, Seeing Islam as Others Saw It, 11. The works of John bar Penkaye provide a contemporary account, and probably a reliable eyewitness, of the early conquests in the seventh century. 163. Bousquet “Observations,” in The Expansion, ed. Donner, 35. Still, some modern authors, even among Muslims, may disagree with Bousquet. The Egyptian Muslim scholar al-Qimany argues that Muslims after Muhammad were not necessarily interested in proclaiming a religion, but in benefitting from the conquered lands. See Qimany, Ḥurūb, 1:39, 1:47. See also the work of the Iranian senator and rationalist Ali Dashti, Twenty Three Years, 97, where he states, “Islam was gradually transformed from a purely spiritual mission into a militant and punitive organization whose progress depended on booty from raids and revenue.” For more about Dashti, see Rippin, Muslims, 213–214. 164. Watt, “Islamic Conceptions of the Holy War,” 148. Watt is considered by many Muslims as a reasonable Christian Orientalist, as he praised Muhammad in various ways and thought of the Qur’ān as divinely inspired though not infallible. See, Watt, Muhammad at Medina, 334–335. 165. Watt, “Islamic Conceptions,” 147, and 146 respectively. In this, Watt disagrees with earlier scholars who argued for an early period for the mass conversion of the conquered people. Morony offers the names of four of those scholars: the German orientalist Carl Heinrich Becker (wrote 1924–1932), the Dutch scholar of French origin Reinhart Dozy (wrote in

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1861), the French scholar Georges Alfred Marçais (1946), and Thomas Arnold. See Morony, “The Age of Conversions,” in Conversion and Continuity, eds. Gervers and Bikhazi, 135. 166. Donner, Conquests, 251. 167. Donner, “Introduction,” in The Expansion, xx; idem, Conquests, 251–71. According to Donner, the religious motivation among the Muslim warriors was created by three major components: umma, sharīᶜa, and tawḥīd (the Muslim community, its law, and its strict monotheism). Donner, Conquests, 55–62. For Donner, those three components or concepts established the Muslim religious identity that worked in harmony with other factors to bring forth the launching of the futūḥ.

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———. “Some Proposed Emendations to the Text of the Koran.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 113, no. 4 (1993): 562–573. ———. “Textual Criticism of the Koran.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 121, no. 1 (2001): 1–6. Berg, Herbert, ed. Method and Theory in the Study of Islamic Origins. Leiden: Brill, 2003. ———. The Development of Exegesis in Early Islam: The Authenticity of Muslim Literature from the Formative Period. Richmond, Surrey: Curzon, 2000. ———. “The Implications of, and Opposition to, the Methods and Theories of John Wansbrough.” Method and Theory in the Study of Religion 9, no. 1 (1997): 3–22. Bernards, Monique, and John Nawas, eds. Patronate and Patronage in Early and Classical Islam. Leiden: Brill, 2005. Borrut, Antoine. Entre mémoire et pouvoir: L’espace Syrien sous les derniers Ommeyades et les premiers Abbassides (V. 72–193/692–809). Leiden: Brill, 2011. ———. “Vanishing Syria: Periodization and Power in Early Islam.” Der Islam 91, no. 1 (2014): 37–68. Breisach, Ernst, ed. Classical Rhetoric and Medieval Historiography. Kalamazoo, Mich.: Medieval Inst. Publ., Western Michigan University, 1985. Bulliet, Richard. Conversion to Islam in the Medieval Period. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1979. Burton, John. The Collection of the Qur’ān. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1977. Campanini, Massimo. The Qur’ān: Modern Muslim Interpretations. Translated by Caroline Higgitt. London: Routledge, 2011. Clanchy, M. T. From Memory to Written Record: England, 1066–1307. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1979. Cook, Michael A. Muhammad. Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 1983. Crone, Patricia. Meccan Trade and the Rise of Islam. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1987. ———. Slaves on Horses: The Evolution of the Islamic Polity. Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 1980. Crone, Patricia, and Michael A. Cook. Hagarism: The Making of the Islamic World. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1977. Daniel, Norman. Islam and the West: The Making of an Image. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1960. Dashti, Ali. Twenty Three Years: A Study of the Prophetic Career of Mohammad. Costa Mesa, Calif.: Mazda, 1985. Décobert, Christian. Le Mendiant et le combatant: L’institution de l’islam. Paris: Ed. du Seuil, 1991. Donner, Fred McGraw. “Arabic Fatḥ as ‘Conquest’ and its Origin in Islamic Tradition.” Al-ᶜUṣūr al-Wusṭā 24 (2016): 1–14. ———. Narratives of Islamic Origins: The Beginnings of Islamic Historical Writing. Princeton: Darwin Press, 1998. ———. “Review of Robert Hoyland’s In God’s Path.” Al-ᶜUṣūr al-Wusṭā 23 (2015): 134–140. ———. The Early Islamic Conquests. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981. ———, ed. The Expansion of the Early Islamic State, The Formation of the Classical Islamic World, 5. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2008.

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Donohue, John J., and John L. Esposito, eds. Islam in Transition: Muslim Perspectives. 2nd ed. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1982; 2007. Dūrī, ᶜAbd al-ᶜAzīz al-. The Rise of Historical Writing among the Arabs. Translated by Lawrence I. Conrad. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1983. Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd edition. Edited by H. A. R. Gibb et al. 8 Vols and supplement to date. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1960–. Faizer, Rizwi Shuhadha. “Ibn Isḥāq and Al-Wāqidī Revisited: A Case Study of Muhammad and the Jews in Biographical Literature.” PhD, McGill University, Canada, 1995. ———. “Muhammad and the Medinan Jews: A Comparison of the Texts of Ibn Ishaq’s Kitāb Sīrat Rasūl Allah with Al-Wāqidī’s Kitāb al-Maghāzī.” International Journal of Middle East Studies 28, no. 4 (1996): 463–89. Foot, Sarah, and ‎Chase F. Robinson, eds. The Oxford History of Historical Writing, Volume 2. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012. Geary, Patrick J. Phantoms of Remembrance: Memory and Oblivion at the End of the First Millennium. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994. Gervers, Michael, and Ramzi Jibran Bikhazi, eds. Conversion and Continuity: Indigenous Christian Communities in Islamic Lands, Eighth to Eighteenth Centuries Papers in Mediaeval Studies, 9. Toronto, Canada: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies, 1990. Gilliot, Claude. “Récit, mythe et histoire chez Ṭabarī. Une vision mythique de l’histoire universelle.” MIDEO, no. 21 (1993): 277–289. Goldziher, Ignaz. Mohammed and Islam. Translated by Kate Chambers Seelye. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1917. ———. Muslim Studies. 2 Vols. Edited and Translated by S. M. Stern. London: George Allen and Unwin, 1967–1971. Griffith, Sidney Harrison. The Bible in Arabic: The Scriptures of the “People of the Book” in the Language of Islam. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2013. Gwatkin, Henry Melville, ed. Cambridge Medieval History. 8 Vols. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1913. Reprint, 1967. Hinds, Martin. Studies in Early Islamic History. Edited by Jere L. Bacharach, Lawrence I. Conrad, and Patricia Crone. Princeton: Darwin Press, 1996. Hirschler, Konrad. The Written Word in the Medieval Arabic Lands: A Social and Cultural History of Reading Practices. Edinburgh: Edinburgh Univ. Press, 2013. Hitti, Philip K. The Arabs: A Short History. London: Macmillan, 1948. Horovitz, Josef. The Earliest Biographies of the Prophet and Their Authors. Edited by Lawrence I. Conrad. Princeton: Darwin Press, 2002. Howard-Johnston, James. Witnesses to a World Crisis: Historians and Histories of the Middle East in the Seventh Century. Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press, 2011. Hoyland, Robert G. In God’s Path: The Arab Conquests and the Creation of an Islamic Empire Ancient Warfare and Civilization. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015. ———. Seeing Islam as Others Saw It: A Survey and Evaluation of Christian, Jewish, and Zoroastrian Writings on Early Islam Studies in Late Antiquity and Early Islam, 13. Princeton: Darwin Press, 1997. Humphreys, R. Stephen. Islamic History: A Framework for Inquiry. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991.

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Ibn Warraq, ed. The Origins of the Koran: Classic Essays on Islam’s Holy Book. Amherst, NY: Prometheus Books, 1998. ———, ed. The Quest for the Historical Muhammad. Amherst, N.Y.: Prometheus Books, 2000. ———, ed. What the Koran Really Says: Language, Text, and Commentary. Amherst, NY: Prometheus Books, 2002. Innes, Matthew. “Memory, Orality and Literacy in an Early Medieval Society.” Past & Present, no. 158 (1998): 3–36. Kaegi, Walter Emil. Byzantium and the Early Islamic Conquests. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992. Keaney, H. N. “Remembering Rebellion: ᶜUthmān b. ᶜAffān in Medieval Islamic Historiography.” Ph.D. diss., University of California, 2003. Kennedy, Hugh. The Great Arab Conquests: How the Spread of Islam Changed the World We Live In. Philadelphia, PA: Da Capo, 2007. ———. The Prophet and the Age of the Caliphates: The Islamic Near East from the Sixth to the Eleventh Century. Harlow, London: Longman, 1986. Reprint, 2004. Khalidi, Tarif. Arabic Historical Thought in the Classical Period. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994. Landau-Tasseron, Ella. “On the Reconstruction of Lost Sources.” Al-Qanṭara 25 (2004): 45–91. Leaman, Oliver. An Introduction to Classical Islamic Philosophy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002. Lecker, Michael. “Notes about Censorship and Self-Censorship in the Biography of the Prophet Muhammad.” Al-Qanṭara 35, no. 1 (2014): 233–254. ———. “Review of The Life of Muḥammad: Al-Wāqidī’s Kitāb al-Maghāzī.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 133, no. 4 (2013): 717–719. ———. “Wāqidī’s Account on the Status of the Jews of Medina: A Study of a Combined Report.” Journal of Near Eastern Studies 54, no. 1 (1995): 15–32. Lewis, Bernard. The Arabs in History. 6th ed. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993. ———. The Political Language of Islam. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1988. Lüling, Günter. A Challenge to Islam for Reformation: The Rediscovery and Reliable Reconstruction of a Comprehensive Pre-Islamic Christian Hymnal Hidden in the Koran under Earliest Islamic Reinterpretations. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass Publishers, 2003. Luxenberg, Christoph. The Syro-Aramaic Reading of the Koran: A Contribution to the Decoding of the Language of the Koran. Berlin: H. Schiler, 2007. Marcinkowski, Christoph. Shi’ite Identities: Community and Culture in Changing Social Contexts. Freiburger Sozialanthropologische Studien. Berlin: Global, 2010. ———. “Some Reflections on Alleged Twelver Shīᶜite Attitudes toward the Integrity of the Qur’ān.” Muslim World 91, no. 1–2 (2001): 137–153. Martin, Richard C., Mark R. Woodward, and Dwi S. Atmaja. Defenders of Reason in Islam: Muᶜtazilism from Medieval School to Modern Symbol. Oxford: Oneworld, 1997. Martin, Richard C., ed. Approaches to Islam in Religious Studies. Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1985. Martinez-Gros, Gabriel. L’idéologie Omeyyade: La construction de la légitimité du califat de Cordoue (Xe-Xie Siècles). Madrid: Casa de Velázquez, 1992.

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McAuliffe, Jane Dammen, ed. Encyclopaedia of the Qur’ān. 6 Vols. Leiden: Brill, 2001–2006. ———, ed. The Cambridge Companion to the Qur’ān. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006. Mingana, Alphonse. “The Transmission of the Koran.” Muslim World 7, no. 3 (1917): 223–232. Modarressi, Hossein. Tradition and Survival: A Bibliographical Survey of Early Shīᶜite Literature. Oxford: Oneworld, 2003. Momen, Moojan. An Introduction to Shīᶜī Islam: The History and Doctrines of Twelver Shiᶜism. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1985. Motzki, Harald. “Dating Muslim Traditions: A Survey.” Arabica 52, no. 2 (2005): 204–253. ———. “The Muṣannaf of ᶜAbd al-Razzāq al-Ṣanᶜānī as a Source of Authentic Aḥādīth of First Century A.H.” Journal of Near Eastern Studies 50, 1 (1991): 1–21. Mourad, Suleiman A. “On Early Islamic Historiography: Abū Ismāᶜīl al-Azdī and His Futūḥ al-Shām.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 120, no. 4 (2000): 577–593. Muir, William. The life of Mahomet Volume IV. London: Smith, Elder and Co., 1861. Muir, William, and Thomas Hunter Weir. The Caliphate, Its Rise, Decline, and Fall: From Original Sources. Edinburgh: J. Grant, 1924. Murphy, T. P., ed. The Holy War. Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1974. Nasr, Seyyed Hossein. Three Muslim Sages: Avicenna, Suhrawardi, Ibn ᶜArabī. New York: Caravan Books, 1976. Nasser, Shady Hekmat. The Transmission of the Variant Readings of the Qur’ān: The Problem of Tawātur and the Emergence of Shawādhdh. Leiden: Brill, 2013. Nevo, Yehuda D., and Judith Koren. Crossroads to Islam: The Origins of the Arab Religion and the Arab State. Amherst, NY: Prometheus Books, 2003. Noth, Albrecht, and Lawrence I. Conrad. The Early Arabic Historical Tradition: A Source-Critical Study. Princeton: Darwin Press, 1994. Ormsby, Eric L. Ghazali: The Revival of Islam. Oxford: Oneworld, 2008. Peters, F. E. A Reader on Classical Islam. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994. Petersen, Erling Ladewig. ᶜAlī and Muᶜāwiya in Early Arabic Tradition: Studies on the Genesis and Growth of Islamic Historical Writing until the End of the Ninth Century. Trans. P. Lampe Christensen. Copenhagen, Denmark: Aarhuus Stiftsbogtrykkerie, 1964. Ramadan, Tariq. In the Footsteps of the Prophet: Lessons from the Life of Muhammad. New York: Oxford University Press, 2007. Reynolds, Gabriel Said. The Qur’ān and Its Biblical Subtext. London; New York: Routledge, 2010. ———, ed. The Qur’ān in Its Historical Context. London; New York: Routledge, 2008. ———. “Islamic Studies in the North America, Or: Reflections on the Academic Study of the Qur’ān.” Islamochristiana 40 (2014): 55–73. Rippin, Andrew. Muslims: Their Religious Beliefs and Practices. London; New York: Routledge, 1990; reprint, 2008. ———. “The Qur’ān as Literature: Perils, Pitfalls and Prospects.” British Society for Middle Eastern Studies Bulletin 10, no. 1 (1983): 38–47. ———. “Qur’ānic Studies, Part IV: Some Methodological Notes.” Method and Theory in the Study of Religion 9, no. 1 (1997): 39–46.

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Robinson, Chase F. Empire and Elites after the Muslim Conquest. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. ———. Islamic Historiography. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. ———.“The Conquest of Khūzistān: A Historiographical Reassessment.” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies University of London 67, no. 1 (2004): 14–39. ———, ed. The New Cambridge History of Islam, Volume 1: The Formation of the Islamic World, Sixth to Eleventh Centuries. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011. ———. “The Study of Islamic Historiography: A Progress Report.” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society 7, no. 02 (1997): 199–227. Rosenthal, Franz. A History of Muslim Historiography. 2nd ed. Leiden: Brill, 1968. Saeed, Abdullah. Reading the Qur’ān in the Twenty-First Century: A Contextualist Approach. London: Routledge, 2014. Savant, Sarah Bowen. The New Muslims of Post-Conquest Iran: Tradition, Memory and Conversion. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 2013. Schacht, Joseph. An Introduction to Islamic Law. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1964. ———. “A Revaluation of Islamic Traditions.” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland, no. 2 (1949): 143–154. ———. The Origins of Muhammadan Jurisprudence. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1950. Schimmel, Annemarie. And Muhammad is His Messenger: The Veneration of the Prophet in Islamic Piety. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1985. Schoeler, Gregor. Écrire et transmettre dans les débuts de l’islam. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 2002. ———. The Genesis of Literature in Islam: From the Aural to the Read. Translated by Shawkat M. Toorawa. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2009. Sfar, Mondher. In Search of the Original Koran: The True History of the Revealed Text. Amherst, N.Y.: Prometheus Books, 2008. Shoemaker, Stephen J. The Death of a Prophet: The End of Muhammad’s Life and the Beginnings of Islam. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2012. Shoshan, Boaz. Poetics of Islamic Historiography: Deconstructing Ṭabarī’s History. Leiden: Brill, 2004. ———. The Arabic Historical Tradition and the Early Islamic Conquests: Folklore, Tribal Lore, Holy War. London; New York: Routledge, 2016. Small, Keith E. Textual Criticism and Qur’ān Manuscripts. Lanham, MD.: Lexington Books, 2011. Tannous, Jack. “Syria between Byzantium and Islam: Making Incommensurables Speak.” PhD, diss., Princeton University, 2010. Waines, David. An Introduction to Islam. 2nd ed. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995. Wansbrough, John E. Qur’ānic Studies: Sources and Methods of Scriptural Interpretation. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1977. ———. The Sectarian Milieu: Content and Composition of Islamic Salvation History. Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 1978.

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Watt, W. Montgomery. “Islamic Conceptions of the Holy War.” In The Holy War. Edited by T. P. Murphy, 141–156. Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1974. ———. Muhammad at Medina. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1956. Wellhausen, Julius. Das arabische Reich und sein Sturz. Berlin: G. Reimer, 1902. ———. The Arab Kingdom and its Fall. Calcutta: University of Calcutta, 1927. Wiet, Gaston. L’Egypte Arabe de la Conquete Arabe à la Conquete Ottomane 642–1517 de l’ère Chrétienne. Paris, 1937. Zadeh, Travis. “Quranic Studies and the Literary Turn.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 135, no. 2 (2015): 329–42.

Online Resources The official site of the shīᶜī scholar ᶜAlī al-Kūrānī al-ᶜĀmilī, http://www.alameli.net/ The official site of the shīᶜī scholar ᶜAlī al-Mīlānī http://www.al-milani.com/ The official site of the shīᶜī apologist al-Ḥāj Riḍā al-Ḥasūn http://www.aqaed.com/faq/5344/ The official website of Sayyid Maḥmūd al-Qimany http://quemny.blog.com

chapter

three

Muhammad’s Maghāzī and Their Stated Motivations A Critical Revision of Sīrat Rasūl Allāh

“In early Islam, Muslims never fought except in self-defense or to push away those opposing the Islamic proclamation by using charitable preaching.” —ᶜA bbās M aḥmūd al -ᶜA qqād (1889–1964) “All Muhammad’s incursions were for self-defense, and the same applies to the early Muslim conquests of the Prophet’s Companions, but afterward, fighting became a necessity for the ruling kingdom. In all these expeditions, Islam was an example of mercy and justice.” —R ashīd R iḍā (1865–1935)

This chapter focuses on Muhammad’s maghāzī (raids) as depicted in the earliest Muslim sources and responds to the question: what motivated these expeditions in the first place? Attempting to paint a religious picture regarding these campaigns, the traditional Muslim approach in studying the maghāzī depicts the campaigns as primarily for self-defense or with the goal to proclaim the newly revealed faith of the Prophet Muhammad. This chapter tests this traditional interpretation against the backdrop of the earliest available literature—sīra, maghāzī, and ta’rīkh. There will be four sections in this examination of the interpretation. The first traces the tradi tional approach in various classical, modern, and contemporary Muslim writings. It reiterates the traditional-apologetic approach with particular emphasis on how the Muslim umma adopted such an approach throughout

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history (although, arguably, the reasons may vary as to why Muslims sought to espouse it). The second section focuses on Muhammad’s maghāzī after the hijra (1/622) and before the Battle of Badr (2/623), critically examining what the available sources reveal about the motivations for those early raids. The third section investigates three major battles during Muhammad’s lifetime: Badr, Uḥud, and the conquest of Mecca. These battles represent three different cases of the combat between the Muslims and the Meccan pagans during Muhammad’s life—Muslim victory, Muslim defeat, and negotiated surrender by the Meccans, respectively— and each offers nuanced windows into the stated motivations for the early raids. In analyzing these battles, I will also conduct a critical assessment of Muhammad’s treatment of the Medinan Jews in order to examine what the extant sources convey regarding the motivations for these confrontations. A conclusion will then be provided to synthesize and summarize the findings.

Traditional Muslim Approach to Muhammad’s Maghāzī The traditional approach to Muhammad’s maghāzī permeates classical, modern, and contemporary Muslim writings. In classical writings, Mujāhid ibn Jabr (d. ca. 104/722) points out that the Believers went to battles under Allah’s instruction and with Allah’s power; he was the one who killed their enemies.1 Mujāhid affirms that, in qitāl (fighting), the Muslims had to fight in self-defense as they were instructed: lā tuqātilū illā man qātalakum (do not fight except those who fight you).2 Muqātil (d. 150/767), like Mujāhid, describes the maghāzī in similar terms, particularly the Battle of Badr. He observes, “Allah promised the Prophet Muhammad the victory over the mushrikūn.”3 Muqātil states that Allah is the one who instructed the Prophet to urge the Believers to go to war.4 In al-Ṭabarī’s (d. 310/923) explanation of sūrat al-Baqara (Q 2:193), he notes that the Believers were commanded by Allah to fight the mushrikūn (associaters) who fought them, ḥattā lā yakūn shirk bi-llāh (so that associating partners with Allah would exist no more). This would ensure that Allah alone was worshipped, and that idol worship vanished.5 Al-Qurṭubī (d. 671/1273), like al-Ṭabarī, establishes Allah’s command as the motivating factor behind the battles—before the hijra, fighting was maḥẓūran (forbidden), but after Muhammad emigrated to Medina, the fighting was commanded by Allah.6 Still, al-Qurṭubī points out that Muhammad kān yuqātil man qātalah wa yakuff ᶜamman kaff ᶜanh (was fighting whoever [initially] fought him, and refrained from [fighting] those who refrained from fighting), and that only self-defense fighting was permissible until the revelation of the Sword Verse.7 Thus, al-Qurṭubī specifies that fighting was only permitted after the hijra,

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the command to fight was given by Allah, and fighting was only restricted to self-defense until the revelation of sūrat al-Tawba (Q 9:5). Most modern Muslim thinkers also adopt this traditionalapproach to Muhammad’s maghāzī. In his summary of the sīra, Muḥammad ibn ᶜAbd al-Wahhāb (d. 1206/1792) portrays the battles of Muhammad, particularly Badr, as divinely supported, guided, and planned raids. He writes that Allah instructs the Believers to go to war and promises victory over the mushrikūn of Mecca. Moreover, the Prophet prophesies of the places where the enemies would be murdered, while the angels of Allah appear on the battleground to support the Believers.8 Linking the jihād fī sabīl Allāh with qitāl (fighting) in battles, Sayyid Quṭb (d. 1386/1966) explains that the Believers were called to fight in battles lā fī sabīl al-amjād wa-l-istiᶜlā’ fī al-arḍ, wa lā fī sabīl al-maghānim wa-l-makāsib (not for the sake of the glories and prides of this earth, nor for the spoils [of war] or the profits or benefits [involved]), but rather l-iᶜlā’ kalimat Allāh fī al-arḍ wa iqrār manhajah fī al-ḥayāt wa ḥimāyat al-mu’minīn (to elevate and advance the word of Allah on earth, to affirm his method in life, and to protect the Believers).9 Quṭb adopts the same traditional approach as Rashīd Riḍā (d. 1354/1935), who considers the incursions as act s of self-defense by the Believers during Muham mad’s time. The approach is, in its essence, apologetic. Riḍā demonstrates that the Companions of Muhammad hated fighting during the sacred months and in the sacred place, yet they were forced to fight when others initiated this fighting.10 Similarly, al-Shaᶜrāwī (d. 1419/1998) notes that the fighting was not for the sake of al-jāh aw al-māl aw al-ḍamān al-iqtiṣādī (prestige, money, or financial security), but rather l-iᶜlā’ kalimat Allāh wa nuṣrat dīn Allāh (for advancing and elevating the Word of Allah and the victory of the religion of Allah): This is precisely gharaḍ al-qitāl fī al-Islām (the purpose of fighting in Islam).11 Thus, in modern Muslim writings such a tradit ional approach appears extensively , as it portrays Muhammad’s maghāzī as religiously motivated battles for the sake of Allah and primarily in self-defense.12 This approach continues in contemporary arguments. Al-Qaraḍāwī (1926–), for example, points out that the tolerance of Islam toward non-Muslims, particu larly ahl al-kitāb, is unprecedented.13 Regarding battles and fighting, he observes that both the Qur’ān and Muhammad’s sīra clearly demonstrate/exhibit tolerance with non-Muslims.14 He argues that Islam was capable of spreading peacefully because of its values and self-power.15 Apparently, he chooses not to carefully engage or grapple with the various parts of the Qur’ān and sīra, which demonstrate the opposite. Like al-Qaraḍāwī, Ṭāriq Ramaḍān uses a similar interpretive approach toward Muhammad’s sīra and maghāzī, as he points out that the Believers waited patiently, persevering, and bearing the persecution for almost thirteen years. They were inactive in resisting their enemies in Mecca until they were forced

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to leave their homes and emigrate from Mecca to Medina. After the hijra, Ramaḍān explains, jihad was not only a matter of worship and striving toward self-piety, as it was in Mecca, but also a matter of fighting in self-defense: “Muslims were no longer required to resist passively; rather, they were to defend themselves against enemy aggression.”16 Through their approaches, these two contemporary Muslim writers examine Muhammad’s maghāzī with no significant critical assessment. They view the raids as legitimate expeditions commanded by Allah for the pur pose of self-defense and without intolerance toward non-Muslims. While it is understandable that most Muslim scholars, past and present, adopt a traditional “spiritual” interpretation of what motivated the maghāzī, their emphases may vary. Classical authors generally focus on the proclamation of Islam as the chief reason for launching the battles, while contemporary writers tend to emphasize the need for self-defense and preemptive battles in order to protect the newly established Muslim community. Though differing emphases exist, the traditional Muslim approach to Muhammad’s maghāzī saturates classical, modern, and contemporary Muslim writings. However, this approach attempts to dilute the political and economic aspects of these raids, as the following sections will demonstrate. The traditional approach depicts the raids as expeditions primarily for self-defense, or as legitimate battles aiming at promoting a religious message. In that which follows, I will consult the primary sources in Arabic to examine Muhammad’s raids, and will test the traditional Muslim approach, specifically concerning the motives for the maghāzī.

Muhammad’s Raids After the Hijra and Before Badr According to the Muslim sources, the Prophet Muhammad’s military career began after his hijra from Mecca to Medina and continued for approximately ten years.17 Al-Zuhrī (d. 124/741), one of the earliest narrators and collectors of Muhammad’s sīra, explains that the Prophet amar bi-l-qitāl (commanded fighting) in Medina and that the Battle of Badr was the first battle he witnessed.18 In this assertion, al-Zuhrī speaks only of the raids Muhammad led in person. There were several raids commissioned by Muhammad which took place before Badr in A.H. 2, including al-Abwā’, Bawāṭ, and al-ᶜUshayra.19 Concerning the military raids before the Battle of Badr, there is hardly any clear assertion in the extant accounts20 that the Muslims desired to convert the non-Muslims or pagans of Mecca. This contradicts the traditionalists’ emphasis on religious motives for the early maghāzī—at least from what is explicitly stated.21 For instance, al-Wāqidī and Ibn Hishām describe the raids, which took place before the Battle of Badr as a series of attacks initiated by the Prophet against the

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Quraysh under the supervision of trustworthy Muslim leaders. Al-Wāqidī writes that Muhammad commissioned a liwā’ (banner or flag, which refers here to a small army led by a Muslim leader) seven months after the hijra, followed by two more in the eighth and ninth months consecutively to yaᶜtariḍ (oppose or object) the caravans of the Quraysh.22 According to al-Wāqidī’s account, Muhammad initiated those early raids to acquire booty from those caravans. In describing this series of military sarāyā (raids),23 al-Wāqidī uses the form wa ghazā al-nabī (the Prophet raided), which refers to an action taken and initiated by the Prophet.24 Ibn Hishām uses a similar form: wa ghazā rasūl Allāh (the messenger of Allah raided).25 This same form is used extensively in the reports of various other narrators in their description of the early maghāzī.26 In light of the data from the sources, there are five preliminary items to state regarding the early raids commissioned by Muhammad during the time period between the hijra and the Battle of Badr.27 First, the accounts of the early maghāzī portray Muhammad as both a religious and political leader. However, there is no textual evidence to suggest that the earliest Believers sought conversion of the pagans, or encouraged non-Muslims to embrace the faith proclaimed by Muhammad. There is no mention of proclaiming Islam to pagans, bringing the Qur’ānic message to the Meccans, or even calling for the pagans to forsake their idol wor ship. In the Arabic sources, the early maghāzī appear to be military activities designed to consolidate power and secure resources, rather than religiously motivated incursions to spread a new faith. Second, the writers of these accounts seem primarily concerned with recording the number of raids, where they took place, and against whom they were launched. Muslim authors do not answer questions related to the Prophet’s motivations for launching such expeditions in the first place, or whether the raids were driven by political, economic, or social issues. While these questions resonate with today’s mindset and worldview, the early Muslim historians did not wrestle with them. These early writers recorded the development and establishment of a new, strong umma, emphasizing the growing Muslim community centralized at Medina as the major culmination of the maghāzī. It is, thus, interesting to read arguments set forth by modern and contemporary Muslim authors claiming that these raids were for the defense of Islam.28 Such arguments lack support from the extant primary sources. In actuality, these early raids seem to have been chiefly driven by four goals: (1) expanding the political dominion of the umma by terrifying the Meccan enemy,29 (2) enriching the Medinan Muslim community with economic resources gained from the raids, and showing of f the rapid growing power of the newly founded Islamic stronghold,30 (3) training and preparing the anṣār (supporters of Medina) and muhājirūn (emigrants with Muhammad from Mecca) for broader incursions in order to expand the dominion throughout Arabia,31 and (4) attacking

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the central power of the Quraysh in Mecca, not only politically, but also economically by destroying their trade.32 In this early stage of the Medinan umma, the military activities aimed to increase economic gain and political power. Third, between the time of the hijra and the Battle of Badr, Muhammad himself appears to be concerned primarily with protecting his newly founded community and its political and economic development, not with proclaiming a religious message to those he fought.33 To determine Muhammad’s main concern, it is necessary to examine the example of his uncle, al-ᶜAbbās ibn ᶜAbd al-Muṭṭalib, who was still a non-Muslim (pagan)34 when he went with the Prophet to their Medinan relatives to seek protection for Muhammad. This incident is known as the Second Aqaba Pledge, in which the Yathrib community, particularly the tribes of al-Aws and al-Khazraj, gave Muhammad and al-muhājirūn the oath of allegiance.35 Not only was Muhammad’s uncle a pagan at that time, there is also no evidence that the Prophet sought to convert his mushrik (pagan associater) uncle to Islam. In this specific incident, political power, allegiance, and support were higher priorities to the Prophet. He needed support and protection in order to fight the Meccans, who had forcibly expelled him from Mecca. The alliance with the Medinan tribes provided not only political power, but also economic resources to support the vulnerable newly emigrated Muslims, which in turn secured their allegiance and loyalty.36 Al-ᶜAbbās was a Meccan from Muhammad’s tribe of the Banū Hāshim. He was making every possible effort to ensure the Medinan people’s support, protection, and defense of his nephew. It is obvious that the scene depicted in the sources is about political alliance and skillful tactics in preparation for war, rather than religious proclamation. This indicates that the early expeditions were part of a broader picture of tribal alliances and political tactics.37 At the very least, it appears that, at this early stage, there was no clear desire to convert the non-Muslims. They were free to remain in their polytheism or paganism, as long as they supported the Prophet in his pursuit of power against the Quraysh.38 While Ibn Hishām uses religious terms—as “Allah did not permit the fight”—it is logical, at least from a tactical military standpoint, to assume that the Prophet could not fight before he received the support of the Medinan anṣār in the Second Aqaba Pledge.39 Fourth, between the hijra and the Battle of Badr, Muhammad appears to have worked diligently on not only creating peace and harmony between hisanṣār (supporters of Medina) and muhājirūn (those who emigrated with him from Mecca), but also on encouraging them to prepare for war with the Meccans. He encouraged them by promising them great incentives in return for the fight.40 They were guaranteed various rewards as they went to war—not only in the afterlife, but also in the present. Thus, if the Muslim soldiers die in battle, they are guaranteed al-shahāda (martyrdom).41 If they win, they are promised at least four kinds of economic gain. Quoting primary Muslim sources, ᶜAbd al-Karīm points out that Muslim warriors

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are promised four rewards: (1) al-ghanīma (booty or spoils of war), which is taken from unbelievers through fighting and killing; (2) al-fay’, which refers to money gained without the use of fighting, as it is given to the Muslim warriors through peace treaties or any sort of compromise with the enemies; (3) al-nafl, which is a part of al-ghanīma after dividing it; 4) al-salb,42 which refers to that which is seized or obtained by the qātil (killer) from the person killed (a well-known habit in the Jāhiliyya period).43 It appears that not only martyrdom, but also the mate rialistic rewards in this life, served as significant incentives for motivating Muslims to follow the Prophet’s call for battles. The majority of these warriors were weary, poor, and vulnerable, since they had recently emigrated from their homes in Mecca. This was most likely one of the reasons for their repeated disputes concerning the spoils. Al-Wāqidī writes that various disputes, and even fights, occurred among Muslims after the battles due to disagreements regarding the portions and distribution of these spoils of war.44 Throughout these early raids, there is no stated evidence of attempts by Muslims to proclaim their new faith either during or after the maghāzī. It appears that the act of securing financial resources, not spreading a religious message, was central to Muhammad’s early raids. Fifth, the violation of the sanctity of the sacred month Rajab 45 reiterates the possibility of another motive behind the raids before reaching the watershed point at the Battle of Badr.46 This incident is reported in various Muslim accounts and describes how the Believers, sent by Muhammad in a ghazwa (raid), decided to violate al-shahr al-ḥarām (the sacred month). During this raid, the Muslim fighters killed men of the Quraysh tribe, took others captive, and seized properties.47 According to Ibn Hishām, these Muslim warriors had the choice to observe the sanctity of the sacred month or to violate it. After considering the situation, ajmaᶜū [ᶜalā] qatl man qadirū ᶜalayh (they all, coming to a consensus, agreed to kill as many as they were able).48 This incident does not indicate any attempt to proclaim faith or seek to convert non-Muslims. It does indicate that the Believers sought to gain wealth, even to the extent of violating longstanding tribal agreements. This account demonstrates that seeking the spoils, as well as the victoryover their Meccan enemies, served as the driving force behind this incursion. Muslim warriors violated the sacred month deliberately—an action, which was eventually justified through a divine revelation to the prophet: “They will question thee concerning the holy month, and fighting in it. Say: ‘Fighting in it is a heinous thing, but to bar from God’s way, and disbelief in Him, and the Holy Mosque, and to expel its people from it—that is more heinous in God’s sight” (Q 2:217).49 Mujāhid ibn Jabr (d. 104/722) explains that the incident was sanctified through the revelation of this verse, although before it took place the Prophet had a ᶜahd (covenant) with the Quraysh.50 This reflects how negatively this violation could have been perceived by the Meccans. The violation of the sacred month’s sanctity displayed

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the general defilement of the tribal system—a system which protected the trading roads against murdering, kidnapping, and stealing.51 Mujāhid does not attempt to justify or offer excuses for such disregard. Like Mujāhid, al-Wāḥidī (d. 468/1075), in his Asbāb al-nuzūl (occasions of revelation), does not justify the violation. He describes those Muslims who disregarded the sacred month as having sought ᶜarḍ al-dunyā (this world, in contrast to the life to come), and states that they killed the first person in the battles between the Believers and the Quraysh and ghanamū ᶜīrah (looted his camels).52 While classical commentators do not attempt to provide excuses for this violation, modern exegetes offer explanation and justification. Rashīd Riḍā (d. 1354/1935) claims that this violation had a valid purpose: the Muslims had to violate the sanctity of the sacred month lest al-kuffār (the infidels) flee to al-ḥaram (the sacred place, Mecca) for protection. Riḍā provides an excuse for the Prophet, maintaining that Muhammad did not agree with the violation of the sacred month, and consequently Allah revealed the verse in (Q 2:217) to encourage his Prophet.53 Numerous modern Muslim authors attemptto diminish the severity of the situation by providing different excuses for this incident.54 In summary, the raids and campaigns that took place before the Battle of Badr were military endeavors seeking to gain political power and secure financial resources in order to empower the newly founded Muslim community in Medina. Watt rightly observes, “The thought in the mind of those who organized and participated in razzias was not the conversion of those attacked but the plunder to be gained from them.”55 There is no evidence in the extant Muslim sources that these early raids were aimed at converting non-Muslims to Islam, or even calling them to consider the new faith. The argument adopted and set forth by traditionalists regarding the religious motivation for the early maghāzī lacks support from Muslim accounts. While a Muslim adopting the traditional approach may argue that financial gain was a divine reward for defeating the infidels, this does not support the idea that the raids were primarily intended to proclaim a religion. I have found no mention of religious motivations or considerations during or after the incur sions. The maghāzī under study in this section, as Muslims reported them, were initiated by the Believers themselves.

The Battle of Badr According to Muslim tradition, Muhammad settled in Medina after being forced by the Meccans to emigrate from his homeland. There, he commissioned various raids against the Meccans and their caravans in order to secure resources to strengthen his newly founded umma. In the Medina-Mecca combat, a military conflict that lasted about ten years, the Meccan camp grew weaker, while the

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Medinan camp grew stronger. Among the various battles, three stand out as having significant importance in bringing the majority of Arabia under the power of the Believers: the victory at Badr (2/624), the defeat at Uḥud (3/625), and the negotiated surrender of the Meccans upon the conquest of Mecca (8/630). Though other important campaigns occurred, these three battles elevated the Prophet Muhammad to become the new powerful ruler over most of Arabia. The turning point between Muhammad and the Quraysh took place at Badr (2/624). Here, this study examines how the battle started and makes six critical observations on its apparent motivations, according to Arabic primary sources. Ibn Hishām describes the context for the start of Badr: “The messenger of Allah heard that Abū Sufyān ibn Ḥarb was returning from al-Shām (Greater Syria) with a huge caravan of the Quraysh that contained amwāl wa tijāra min tijāratihim (money and items they had acquired through their trade), accompanied by some thirty or forty men.”56 Ibn Hishām observes that the Prophet summoned the Muslims and said, “this is the caravan of the Quraysh, containing their properties fa-khrujū ilayhā laᶜall Allāh yanfulukumūh (so, go out to [raid] it, hopefully Allah would give it to you as anfāl [spoils]).”57 Some of the Muslims were reluctant to participate in the attack because they “thought that [an] apostle of Allah will not create a war.”58 However, Muhammad exhorted them to go to battle, emphasizing mā maᶜahum min al-amwāl (what [the Meccans] possessed of money) and qillat ᶜadadihim (their scarce number of people).59 Abū Sufyān, Muhammad’s adversary who was the head of the Meccan caravan, did not seem to want a fight. In an attempt to avoid one, he changed the route of his caravan, and sent a message to the Meccans, seeking reinforcements.60 The Meccans attempted to avoid the war as much as they could.61 Muhammad, on the other hand, seems to have realized a great opportunity to accomplish a significant victory over the Meccans lay before him. He told his soldiers, “This is Mecca qad alqat ilaykum aflādh akbādihā (giving her precious life away to you, literally ‘her inner, and most valuable, liver’).”62 Regarding what motivated the Battle of Badr , there are six critical points to make. First, although the details of this battle are plenteous, situating it within its context and the events preceding it will demonstrate its apparent motivations. In that light, the battle cannot be viewed as a Muslim defensive war or as a war for the sake of proclaiming the Muslim faith. In the traditional accounts, there is no mention of an incursion against the Muslims by the Meccans, nor is there a reference to the soldiers proclaiming their new message to their Meccan enemies. The Medinan camp, under the leadership of Muhammad, sought victory over the Meccans, who fought as an attempt to defend their possessions and lives. To embolden his soldiers for war, the Prophet spoke of the abundance of possessions and properties, which awaited the Muslims upon victory.63 Like the earlier raids, economic gain appears to be the motivating factor, rather than self-defense. In describing the Meccans to

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his soldiers, the Prophet affirmed that those enemies were the notables of Mecca,64 calling upon his devout followers to take advantage of their unique opportunity. In this way, the leader seems to have desired to gain power and hegemony by elimi nating the top elites of Mecca rather than proclaiming a religious message. Second, adding evidence against the traditional argument for self-defense, the Meccans did not initially seek to go to war. In fact, they attempted to avoid it at all costs. Not only had they become aware of the growing strength and power of Muhammad’s community, but they also sought to avoid direct confrontation in order to secure their trade and social status.65 The Believers, on the other hand, deliberately insisted on this fight. This supports the notion of them being motivated neither by self-defense nor proclamation of a religious message.66 The Meccan leader Abū Sufyān took a different route to protect his caravan and sent messengers to seek support from the Meccans.67 While Muhammad reportedly sought al-dhabḥ (the slaughter) of the Meccans,68 they, in turn, seemed to have tried to avoid the war. ᶜAtaba ibn Rabīᶜa, another Meccan leader, resisted the notion of fighting, preferring the security of his Meccan people.69 He was, according to Ibn Kathīr, one of the ashrāf (notable elites) of the Quraysh, very wealthy, and known as “the noblest man in the Quraysh.”70 According to al-Suhaylī (d. 581/1185), ᶜAtaba negotiated with the notables of Mecca and suggested creating a peace treaty with Muhammad, “offering him some compensation so that he might accept and leave.”71 The news of the various Meccan attempts to avoid war reached the Muslim camp. Muhammad and the Believers became aware of their great chance for victory. Al-Bayhaqī affirms that the news spread among the Muslim warriors that ᶜAtaba yunhī ᶜan al-qitāl (prohibited or forbade the fighting).72 In a speech to the Quraysh, ᶜAtaba stressed that there was no need to fight with Muhammad.73 It is noteworthy that ᶜAtaba ibn Rabīᶜa was killed just before the battle started, and that the Muslim warriors broke the rules of fencing when ᶜAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib and Ḥamza ibn ᶜAbd al-Muṭṭalib came against ᶜAtaba after he fell in his fencing against ᶜUbayda ibn al-Ḥārith.74 The textual evidence provided by the early traditional accounts indicates that the Meccans tried to avoid the war while the Believers insisted on it. Thus, it is most unlikely that Badr was a war of self-defense, as many traditional Muslims argue. The battle cannot be viewed as religiously motivated, since one cannot find any stated or implied religious aspect behind its launch. Badr was a strategic battle, well planned and meticulously plotted by the Prophet and his warriors. In his explanation of Muhammad’s sīra, al-Bayhaqī titles the section explaining the beginnings of this battle: Bāb kayf kān bad’ al-qitāl wa tahyyīj al-ḥarb yawm Badr (the section of how the fighting started and the igniting [or provoking] of the war in the day of Badr).75 This and similar such extant Muslim sources prevent us from viewing Badr as a war of self-defense, or even less as a way for the Believers to convert their opponents.

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Third, the classical Muslim historians, in describing Badr , appear to use supernatural elements and deliberate exaggerations in an attempt to add a spir itual nature to its course of events. By interpolating these mystical components, the authors emphasize their conviction that a huge victory , such as the one of Badr, should be viewed as an unprecedented, supernatural event. The victory, as depicted by such authors, appears isolated from the normal course of life events and the Mecca-Medina balance of power.76 Ibn Hishām writes of heavenly angels riding horses in the midst of sky clouds, wearing colorful ᶜamā’im (turbans) and beheading the non-Muslim Meccans. He describes the angels emerging from the mountains in such a marvelously bright appearance that one Muslim man lost his sight.77 According to Ibn Kathīr, the angels were wearing black (or, in other reports, yellow), as opposed to red, which was worn at the Battle of Ḥunayn several years later.78 Al-Bayhaqī, in agreement with Ibn Hishām, indicates that one thousand angels were accompanied by the Archangels Gabriel and Michael. Satan also appeared at the scene in human form.79 Furthermore, supernatural elements were reported not only in the intervention of heavenly angels, but also in miracles performed by the Prophet. Gabriel instructed Muhammad to take a handful of dust and throw it at the Meccans—an action which hurt the eyes, noses, and mouths of al-mushrikūn, who consequently had to flee from the battleground.80 Ibn Hishām writes that Muhammad threw the dust against them, cursing them to perish and calling upon his warriors to fight; as a result, qatal Allāh taᶜālā man qatal min ṣanādīd Quraysh wa asar man asar min ashrāfihim (Allah killed a great number of the Quraysh’s mighty men and took many captives of their elites).81 Although the victory of the Believers in Badr was great in itself, it appears that the early Muslim narrators found it necessary to add various religious elements, sometimes with exaggeration, in order to portray the victory as a religiously and divinely supported phenomenon. The purpose, it would seem, was to emphasize the role of Allah instead of the actual battle. This is well demonstrated in the portrayal of the death of Abū Jahl, the most hostile enemy to Muhammad and his followers, during the battle. After Abū Jahl’s murder at the hands of three Muslim warriors, he repeatedly emerged from his tomb only to be kicked back in. Muhammad prophesied that Abū Jahl would continue to be battered until the Day of Judgment.82 There is obvious exaggeration and tendentiousness in this story, but this is the manner in which the standard traditional Muslim narrators created and promoted the memory of Abū Jahl.83 In their attempt to portray religiously driven maghāzī, they embellish details regarding the divine support granted to the Believers. Fourth, the apparent contradictions between the ruwāh (narrators) in their reports of the Battle of Badr demonstrate a possibility that they portrayed the battle as they wanted their audience to believe it, instead of documenting what actually

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happened. The conflicts within the various narratives suggest that the authors were not seeking to write pure historiography, but rather to refashion the historical accounts to form their readers’ beliefs. For instance, al-Ṭabarī portrays the Prophet as a brave leader in the front line of the battle, 84 but then writes that the Prophet was yatakhawwaf (being concerned or afraid) lest the anṣār only support him in their Medinan lands, rather than in Arabia as whole.85 One positive way to frame these conflicting reports is to assume that the Prophet fought bravely, but, due to his human limitations, he was also uncertain about the commitment of the anṣār. This line of thought resolves the apparent contradiction. Another set of seemingly contradicting accounts concerns the location of the Prophet during the battle. While one report places him as leading in the front line, al-Ṭabarī states that there were some Muslims yaḥrusūn (protecting) the Prophet during the battle.86 A third report locates him in his ᶜarīsh (guarding shelter) accompanied by Abū Bakr.87 According to al-Ṭabarī, “Muhammad was in his ᶜarīsh safeguarded by the sword of Saᶜd ibn Muᶜādh, in addition to some of the anṣār (supporters) protecting him.”88 It is unclear whether the Prophet was in the front line leading the battle, in the middle of the battleground, fighting for himself, or protected by his warriors. While one may suggest that he moved throughout the battlefield and these reports describe different stages of the battle, I would argue the conflicting accounts prove that the classical narrators have created a distorted “memory” of the victory by inserting unneeded and unconvincing information.89 They make every effort to portray a pristine picture of the battle and its leader, though sometimes they do the exact opposite and actually place him in a dark light. Consider this incident: immediately before the battle, the Prophet would not reveal the truth about where he was coming from;90 after the victory, he swore that anā al-nabiyy lā akdhib (I am the prophet; I do not lie).91 What can we make of these conflicting accounts? The conflicting details within the course of the battle reflect a degree of uncertainty among the narrators. The dissonance in their reports stems chiefly from their attempts to depict a religious picture of the events and what motivated them. They represent events, rather than documenting or recording them. They create a memory and impose selective forgetting.92 This battle was motivated by the practical desire of the Believers to gain political victory against the Meccans, and the reasonable tribal concern to secure economic resources through the spoils of war and the ransoms of Meccan prisoners. As for the victory, one must consider these normal and natural factors: (1) the Meccans were not truly unified, as some of them—particularly some of the Banū Hāshim (the Prophet’s relatives)—chose to leave the battle, as hawāhum (their affection) was in favor of Muhammad93; (2) the Muslim warriors, according to Ibn Kathīr, were younger and stronger than those of Mecca94; (3) the Believers were located at the top of a hill, and the night before the Battle there were heavy rains which made the ground muddy—the Quraysh “was

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not able to march on it”95; (4) the Believers skillfully used the element of surprise against the Meccans, as Muhammad went out yubādiruhum (initiating) the fight96; and (5) while the Meccans were camped in a valley, tired and thirsty due to their water wells being contaminate d by the Muslims, the Muslims were strong and physically prepared in their position on top of the hill.97 Though there are others, these five factors argue for a victory of the Muslims achieved by human tactics and strategic plots carried out by the Believers under Muhammad’s leadership. The classical Muslim narrators, however, have interpolated supernatural elements to depict a divinely supported battle. Fifth, the actions of the Believers before and during the battle speak volumes about what motivated it. Analyzing their documented deeds and statements clarifies what they sought in their diligent and successful attempts to force the Meccans to war. In my view, the revenge upon the Meccans was a major motive for Badr. A Muslim report states that the blood of the murdered Meccans was plenty—to the extent that it reached the level of “the armpit of ᶜAlī.”98 With this amount of bloodshed (if it is true), one may wonder if the motivation for such a battle was religious in nature, or intended to exact revenge upon the Meccans for expel ling Muhammad and his followers to Medina.99 The historical accounts suggest that the Believers sought the notable elites of Mecca. The Prophet instructed the killing of two major leaders of the Quraysh after they had surrendered and were being held as prisoners of war.100 Some traditionalists argue that the Prophet actually spared many of the Quraysh, because an amnesty was declared for all of the Prophet’s relatives in the Banū Hāshim.101 For example, his uncle al-ᶜAbbās, who was still considered among the kuffār (infidels), was amongst the spared. Indeed, the command to the Believers was clear: “If you meet with anyone of the Banū Hāshim, do not kill him.”102 In addition, the Prophet spared some Meccans such as Abū al-Bakhtarī, commanding the Muslims not to kill him.103 While sparing specific individuals does not necessarily reflect compassion, it does strongly suggest that this was primarily a tribal conflict abiding by the accepted terms of the day, especially if we consider some of the Banū Hāshim who chose to leave the battle due to their affection for Muhammad. The Believers knew exactly what they wanted and clearly identified their enemies. In his investigation of the enemy before the battle started, the Prophet inquired about the number of those from the Quraysh, followed by a question about the names of the notables of Mecca participating in it.104 Once he heard the names of the elites of the Quraysh, he declared, “here is Mecca presenting to you aflādh akbādihā (her precious life, literally ‘her inner, and most valuable, liver’).105 This depicts normal tribal battle with strategically chosen targets. Further, according to al-Ṭabarī, the dead notables of Mecca were treated by the Believers in a humiliating way, by throwing their bodies in al-qalīb (a deep well used as a garbage hole).106 The contemporary

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Muslim author al-Qimany points out that Umayya ibn Abī al-Ṣalṭ, the well-known non-Muslim poet, was about to embrace Islam until he heard that the Prophet had killed sādat Quraysh (the elites of the Quraysh) and threw them in al-qalīb. Umayya wondered, “If [Muhammad] were a prophet he would have never killed his relatives.”107 The overall portrayal suggests a tribal combat, driven by political measures and economic interests, rather than faith proclamation or a preventive battle for self-defense. Sixth, after the battle, the disputes among the Muslims regarding the distribution of the anfāl (spoils of war) suggest their possible motivations for going to war in the first place. When a warrior seeks first and foremost the material gain after a battle, this action reflects an economic motivation in participating in such a battle, especially if he is willing to fight with his fellow warriors over the loot. According to al-Ṭabarī, Muhammad naffal kull imri’ mā aṣāb (gave every man the spoils he caught).108 Apparently, this decision created a severe controversy among the warriors, as everyone claimed the right to receive more. Al-Ṭabarī reports the dispute among Muhammad’s companions: “On that day [at Badr] when we quarreled over the distribution of the spoils of war, and sā’at fī-h akhlāqunā (our ethical manners worsened), Allah then snatched them [the spoils] from our hands and gave them to Muhammad who distributed them.”109 The Prophet, in a wise decision, waited until he entered Medina to distribute the spoils.110 At that time, a revelation from Allah is reported to have come down, instructing that the spoils of war to be given to Muhammad himself. The revelation does not redirect, for instance, the companions’ attention to proclaim their religion to the pagans, but rather to organize the distribution of the spoils. This reflects clearly that the spoils of war took a higher priority over any traditionally claimed religious zeal. Muslim warriors were eager to secure their portion of the wealth left behind after the battle. This is normal and fits well within the scheme of raids and battles at that time in Arabia. Warriors cannot deny their love of gain, which they seek above all else. The modern Muslim historian ᶜAbd al-Karīm, unlike those adopting the traditional approach, reads the story of Badr as a strategic and tactical expedition. He points out that the leader realized the importance of al-ghanīma (spoils of war) for his companions, as it was a significant part of what they inherited from their tribal pre-Islamic system. Consequently, to encourage the Believers to fight, the Prophet, in an intelligent move, approved and met their desires for gain in order to satisfy them financially and psychologically.111 By now, the picture is relatively clear, based on the early traditional Muslim accounts, concerning what motivated Badr. However, a Muslim traditional approach may still argue that the early Meccans persecuted and opposed Allah and his Prophet, and therefore all raids launched or commi ssioned by Muham mad were legitimate, religious, defensive, and for Allah’s honor. This religious

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argument is not only an invented articulation of the meaning of military raids in seventh-century Arabia, but also a misrepresentation of the common traditional Muslim interpretation of what motivated the maghāzī. The sources do not include a proclamation of faith, nor do they support a notion of a religiously driven preemptive battle. The hypothetical response above is an attempt to form our understanding of battles and balance of power by making spiritual blanket statements, which can hardly be accepted by non-religious thinkers. Such a traditional argument violates the textual representations found in the Muslims’ own sources. The traditional Muslim accounts of Badr emphasize the manner in which the Muslim warriors played a significant (and ultimately successful) role in the victory achieved. The warriors sought their revenge on the Meccans who expelled them and their Prophet from Mecca. They targeted the Meccan notables and successfully eliminated several heads of the Quraysh. No evidence in the extant sources suggests that the Muslim warriors were motivated by the desire to proclaim Islam to the Meccans. On the contrary, according to classical Muslim accounts, the spoils of war, the ransoms paid by the Meccans, and the treatment of the dead Meccan notables give evidence that the Believers sought power and resources rather than the conversion of the pagan to Islam. While the Muslim accounts of the Battle of Badr have adopted, in some instances, a tendentious approach, historians with a more critical approach may obtain a contrary and reasonable idea regarding the initial motivations for the clash.

The Battle of Uḥud The political power of the Muslim umma grew after Badr. Seven days after arriving in Medina from the victory in Badr, the Prophet led the raid against the sons of Salīm.112 Similarly, the Meccan leader Abū Sufyān led a raid against the Muslims in ghazwat al-Sawīq.113 The conflict between Muhammad and the Meccans continued to grow, resulting in various raids and campaigns, including Dhī Amr and Baḥrān.114 The Battle of Uḥud was a culmination of these earlier raids, particularly as revenge against the Muslims for their treatment of the Meccans in Badr.115 Here, I will explain briefly what initiated Uḥud and make five critical observations on the apparent motivations behind it. According to Muslim accounts, the Muslim army encompassed about 700 warriors led by Muhammad.116 They were initially 1000, but about one third decided to leave the Prophet, following ᶜAbdullāh ibn Ubayy, who was consequently called a hypocrite.117 The Meccans comprised a force of about 3000 well-prepare d and strong men under the leadership of Abū Sufyān ibn Ḥarb.118 They also had in their

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ranks the skillful warrior Khālid ibn al-Wālīd.119 The Meccans brought women with them to the battle in order to yuḥarriḍū (boost the morale of) the warriors.120 Al-Wāqidī points out that not all Muslims were in consensus regarding participating in the battle—Muhammad himself, following a divine vision, decided not to leave his position in Medina to go to Uḥud.121 Al-Ṭabarī compares Badr and Uḥud and states that, one year after Badr, the Muslims ᶜūqibū bimā ṣanaᶜū (were punished [by Allah or the Meccans?] because of what they did [at Badr]). He reports that, “seventy Muslim companions were killed [at Uḥud] and seventy more were taken as war prisoners.”122 According to Muslim tradition, the two armies gathered in the areas surrounding Mount Uḥud a few days before Saturday, the 15th of Shawwāl in A.H. 3, when the battle started. Unlike Badr, the Prophet was at the rear of the army123: “and the Messenger was calling you in your rear” (Q 3:153).124 Al-Ṭabarī describes the initial victory of the Muslim army, emphasizing that Allah “brought down his victory, fulfilling his promise, as [the Muslims] slew125 [the Meccans] by the swords, and that al-hazīma (the defeat) [of the Meccans] was without a doubt.”126 The Believers thus gained an early victory.127 However, near the end of the battle, some of the archers dis obeyed Muhammad’s instructions and left their assigned positions in hopes of obtaining some of the spoils left by the fleeing Meccans.128 This permitted a counterattack by the Meccans, led by the shrewd Khālid ibn al-Walīd,129 during which many Muslim warriors died and Muhammad was severely injured.130 Reflecting on this narrative, there are five points to make regarding the defeat at Uḥud, considering the possible motivations for the battle. First, the apparent floundering, uncertainty, and hesitation among the Believers refutes notions of divine guidance and supernatural support, which in a sense does not support tra ditional claims of religiously driven incursions. It does reflect a normal scheme of battles and balance of power. Muslims were divided into two groups: some desired war, and others hated it.131 Even when the Prophet is said to have received a divine vision warning him of the slaughter of the Muslims should they go to this battle, there was still hesitancy and indecisiveness.132 In this situation, there is no supernatural guidance, nor is there mention of Gabriel, who supported the Muslims at Badr. In his argument regarding what motivated Uḥud, Haykal insists that the Muslims were driven by two factors: (1) defending al-ᶜaqīda (tenets), al-īmān (faith), and dīn (the religion or the law) of Allah, and (2) defending al-waṭan (home) and its maṣāliḥ (interests).133 According to the classical narrative, the Believers were indecisive and confused, and crippled when the skillful Muslim warrior ᶜAbdullāh ibn Ubayy ibn Salūl, the chief of the tribe of al-Khazraj, withdrew with many warriors. He resisted and rejected leaving Medina to fight the Meccans at Uḥud. In fact, Muhammad himself initially agreed with ᶜAbdullāh and did not want to march to Uḥud; however, he proceeded anyway.134 Al-Suhaylī reports that

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ᶜAbdullāh, after marching with Muhammad, decided to return to Medina, declaring that “Muhammad disobeyed me and obeyed [the counsel of] al-wildān (immature men).”135 Eventually, the Prophet openly rejected ᶜAbdullāh’s counsel, and insisted on fighting.136 ᶜAbdullāh appeared convinced that the battle would be a severe slaughter against the Muslims—a notion already supported by the report of a divine vision given to the Prophet. ᶜAbdullāh ibn Ubayy’s counsel proved skillful and competent, and the Believers disobeyed a divine vision instructing them not to march to Uḥud.137 Their decision to fight does not support the notion of a religiously led community, and sheds doubts on the traditional notion of maghāzī seeking to proclaim faith. Second, the course of events and the defeat of the Muslims at Uḥud, as described by Muslim narrators, refute traditional arguments regarding supernatural guidance and protection divinely granted to the Believers. At Badr, the angels supported the Muslims, granting them victory, yet at Uḥud there is no report of divine or angelic reinforcement. Ibn Hishām writes that the Prophet, one day before the Battle of Uḥud started, wore la’matah (his shield, or armor plate),138 declaring mā yanbaghī li-nabī idhā labas la’matah an yaḍaᶜhā ḥattā yuqātil (once a prophet puts on his shield, he cannot put it down unless he fights).139 The tradition does not provide any further reasons for going to battle: The Prophet had worn his shield and, thus, the Believers must fight. Even those Believers who initially supported the war regretted their decision: “istakrahnā (we compelled or forced) the Prophet and we should not have done so.”140 The Believers’ insistence on marching to this battle does not seem founded primarily on religious desires, and their actions hardly reflect a fully secured community relying on Allah’s protection, especially as compared to the traditional picture of the victory at Badr one year earlier.141 One may ask why the Archangel Gabriel did not support the Believers at Uḥud as he did one year earlier, or where the angels were who had appeared at Badr.142 These examples not only rebut the traditional approach to interpreting the maghāzī’s course of events, but also demonstrate clearly its inconsistency, and affirm that it does not withstand rigorous scrutiny. Third, while the excuses given for the defeat by traditionalists vary, they tend to avoid any substantial or objective assessment. One unconvincing excuse is that the defeat occurred due to the disobedienceof the Muslim archers to Muhammad’s instructions.143 This is untrue, because the battle itself was a suicide decision by the Believers, especially considering the difference in number between the warriors (3,000 Meccans against 700 Muslims). The vacillation of the Believers proves this point. Another unpersuasive excuse for the defeat is given presumably by the Qur’ān itself when it provides the motivation, wa-l-yaᶜlam Allāh alladhīn āmanū ([so] that God may know who the [true] believers are) (Q 3:140).144 Al-Wāqidī, in a section devoted to what was revealed in the Qur’ān concerning Uḥud, states

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that Allah was about to send 5,000 angels to support the Muslims, who failed to ṣabarū (persevere patiently) in the battle.145 A third excuse is the ar gument that many hypocrites among the Believers left the army following the withdrawal of ᶜAbdullāh ibn Ubayy, who was eventually identified as the worst munāfiq (hypocrite).146 This excuse is easily dismissed if we consider that the Prophet himself had the same opinion as ᶜAbdullāh ibn Ubayy before entering the battle.147 A more persuasive reason for the defeat, even based on classical Muslim accounts, is that the Meccans were better prepared for the battle, and that Abū Sufyān proved to be a competent, skillful, and capable leader. The Meccans, we are told, collected money, prepared warriors, plotted tactics, and were determined to win.148 Furthermore, from a critical standpoint, the initial “victory” of the Muslims at Uḥud is not entirely plausible. It appears that the classical narrators forged the report of the victory in order to ensure that the “defeat” story made sense. Hypothetically, even if we accept the claim that the mistake of the archers affected the victory, this claim cannot be the sole reason for the defeat. The narrators’ portrayal of the defeat as a result of either Allah’s desire to distinguish believers from unbelievers or because of the archers’ disobedience to Muhammad’s command does not seem realistic, as it does not consider the balance of power in this battle.149 This portrayal itself reports that the Muslim army was at a significant disadvantage from the beginning, especially because the Prophet himself wasbadly injured and almost died.150 The hypothesis of a self-defense campaign driven by faith- proclamation does not ring true in the case of Uḥud. This “spiritual” interpretation attempts to paint a religious picture of what actually appears to have been a tribal battle with a predictable outcome considering the balance of power. At the battle of Uḥud, the Quraysh won their revenge.151 Fourth, the matter of the spoils of war is worth noting, as it was in our examination of the Battle of Badr. One may wonder why there was such an urgent desire among the archers to leave their positions and endanger the entire army; that is, of course, if that withdrawal actually occurred. It seems safe to assume the archers wanted to secure the maximum portion of the spoils of war. Why did they not wait until the battle ended? Consider their reported experience one year earlier at Badr, when their dispute resulted in postponing the distribution for later and the matter was entirely out of their hands. They ran to secure their portions of the booty, as they were uncertain of the distribution of the spoils afterward, and were clearly driven by their loot-lust.152 Fifth, various strategic decisions made by the Believers and the Prophet in the time between Badr and Uḥud, according to the classical narrative, shed some light on the motives behind their raids. Consider, for instance, the manner in which the Believers dealt with some Jews in Medina, particularly those of Banū Qaynuqāᶜ.153 Al-Kalāᶜī writes that this Jewish tribe was the first to violate its agreement with

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Muhammad; consequently, the Prophet, in a meeting with the leaders of the tribe in their market, warned them that they would be the object of naqma (vengeance) and experience a fate similar to that of the Meccans in Badr , and called them to Islam. They refused, declaring that they were more skillful than the Meccans in war and that they would not heed Muhammad’s warning.154 Their refusal, according to tradition, was immediately followed by a random incident: Some of the Jews of this tribe killed a Muslim man for murdering a Jew who insulted an Arab woman by lifting up her dress.155 This episode ignited the fight against the Jews of Banū Qaynuqāᶜ. The Prophet ordered a siege of the tribe. Fifteen days later, they surrendered and he expelled them from their homes.156 This story in the Muslim sources is full of details, but focuses on the Jews’ violation of the treaty terms. A closer look at the situation, however, reveals various gaps and unrealistic components. First, tradition is unclear about the reason for the meeting between Muhammad and these Jews, and also about what caused him to warn them in the first place. The story appears randomly with no clear prologue. The Jews seem to have taken no action to warrant such a warning. It is plausible to assume that the Believers initiated this meeting to prove that, following their victory at Badr, they now held enough power to intimidate the Medinan Jews. Second, the first person reported killed in the skirmish between the Jews and Muslims was a Jewish man. The Jews did not break the treaty with the Believers unless one considers “lifting a woman’s dress” to be a violation of a political treaty. Finally, as the contemporary Muslim historian al-Qimany observes, the woman in this story is identified as an Arab, but we are not told whether she was a Muslim—and even if she were Muslim, there is no mention of her tribe, clan, family, or even her name. There is also no mention of the Muslim man who took revenge for her; he is also unknown.157 This entire story appears to be random and tendentious; quite likely forged and deliberately documented to justify the actions against the Jews. Muslim narrators, in telling this story, do not seem to follow their pattern in providing the isnād (chain of informants) to authenticate it. A reported piece of information which could clarify the decision to expel this Jewish tribe is that, after they surrendered, they were kuttifū wa huwa yurīd qatlahum (tied up, and [the Prophet] wanted to kill them).158 Although the Jews had totally surren dered, the leader sought to kill them.159 This story, regardless of the apologetic traditional claims, suggests the bur geoning power of the umma after gaining victory and possessions at Badr. Uncertain of their loyalty, the Prophet aimed to stress his hegemony over the Jews. In fact, al-Ṭabarī, explaining the precursors to their expulsion, states that Muhammad declared: Innī akhāf min Banū Qaynuqāᶜ fa-sār ilayhim (I am scared of the sons of Qaynuqāᶜ, [and thus] he marched to them,”160 which allows for the interpretation that the Believers initiated the conflict and it was not for self-defense. We might assume that Banū

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Qaynuqāᶜ never broke break the treaty in the first place. Rather, there was tension and uncertainty about their continued loyalty and, therefore, the Believers initiated a provocative action to secure the growing power of the newly born umma in Medina. The Believers should have kept their treaty with Banū Qaynuqāᶜ, who were, according to al-Ṭabarī, in alliance with al-Khazraj (also allied to Muhammad, according to the Second Aqaba Pledge).161 Summoning Banū Qaynuqāᶜ in their market place, warning them, and demanding their submission suggests an of fensive action. It can be argued, therefore, that when the Jews refused to submit, an unconvincing story of harassment against an unidentified woman was created, which humiliated the people of Banū Qaynuqāᶜ and led to their expulsion from their homes. The raid on this tribe can be seen as not reflecting a religious motivation for Muhammad’s expedition, but instead a desire to declare hegemony and terrify those outside of the umma.162 Even on the basis of classical Muslim accounts, the Battle of Uḥud and the various raids and events which surrounded it reveal a tribal political community in the making, exponentially growing in power under the leadership of Muhammad. The newly founded stronghold in Medina gained power and resourceful wealth after the victory of Badr through the spoils of war and the ransom of prisoners. The Meccans, in an attempt at revenge, collected money, prepared warriors, marched to Uḥud, and defeated the Believers. A close examination of the reported Meccan victory refutes various claims set forth by those who adopt traditional interpretations regarding the divine protection provided by Allah to the umma. It rebuts the claim that the victory of Badr was supernatural. It portrays the Battle of Uḥud and the Medina-Mecca combat therein as it was in reality: A tribal political-economic contest, not a religious one.

The Conquest of Mecca The time period between the defeat of the Muslims in the Battle of Uḥud (3/625) and their successful conquest of Mecca (8/630) contained many raids and expeditions which finally resulted in the announcement of Muhammad as the victorious leader over the Meccans. As a result, this opened the way for him to control the majority of Arabia before his death in 11/632. According to classical Muslim sources, in a mere five-year period, the defeat of the Muslims at Uḥud was transformed into an obvious victory at Mecca due to various successful raids, tactical decisions, and strategic treaties. While it is unfeasible, because of space-limitation, to examine every single encounter between the Muslims and non-Muslims between Uḥud (3/625) and fatḥ Mecca (8/630), by focusing on the statements, deeds, and decisions of the skillful leader, Muhammad, and his committed Believers, one can legitimately argue that the maghāzī he launched, led, or commissioned served as

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a series of triba l military activities that primarily sought political hegemony and securing the necessary resources to establish a strong commu nity of Believers in Medina. While several Muslim thinkers adopt the traditional claim that the proclamation of Islam as a religion was at the center of the raids, a more objective analysis of the classical Muslim accounts does not support this claim. In that which follows, the conquest of Mecca will be analyzed critically after studying selected expeditions leading up to it. I will first highlight the overall political situation in Arabia between Uḥud (3/625) and fatḥ Mecca (8/630), drawing heavily on classical Muslim accounts. That will be followed by a critical assessment of Muhammad’s raids of two Jewish tribes (al-Naḍīr and Qurayẓa) and two Jewish settlements (Khaybar and Fadak), as well as his confrontation with the Meccans at the Battle of the Trench. The critical analysis of the reports about these raids will reveal what could have led to the conquest of Mecca and explain the motivations for these military activities.

Political Situation Between Uḥud and fatḥ Mecca Only one day after the defeat at Uḥud, the Prophet, though he was seriously injured, ordered the Ḥamrā’ al-Asad expedition.163 This was followed by two raids, al-Rajīᶜ and Bi’r Maᶜūna, by the beginning of the fourth hijrī year.164 In this Medina-Mecca combat, the Believers were defeated in battles such as Dhāt al-Ruqāᶜ (4/626),165 yet they gained victory in others like Badr al-ākhira (4/626)166 and al-Khandaq (5/627).167 Not only did the Believers lead various expeditions in order to keep face and regain their power, but they also performed a series of tactical assassinations of key non-Muslim individuals: the Jewish men al-Yusayr ibn Rizām, Abū ᶜAfak, and Sallām ibn Abī al-Ḥuqayq.168 They also targeted Khālid ibn Sufyān al-Hathalī, in addition to ᶜAṣmā’ bint Marwān, a woman from the Umayyad clan, and Fāṭima bint Rabīᶜa, who was known as Umm Qirfa the chief of Fazāra.169 The Quraysh in Mecca and the Jewish tribes in Medina presented a continuous threat to the newly founded Medinan community. The Muslim tradition reports various treatments of the Jewish tribes: Banū al-Naḍīr was expelled from Medina before the Battle of al-Khandaq,170 while, after it, the Jewish men of Banū Qurayẓa were murdered and their women and children taken captive.171 The treaty of Ḥudaybiyya (6/628), between Muhammad and the Meccans, temporarily reduced tension between Mecca and Medina, providing the Believers enough time, power, and resources to strengthen their Medinan community.172 Realizing this decreased tension, one year after the treaty , the Prophet marched northward to Khaybar (7/629), a settlement inhabited by Jews, and established his hegemony over them.173 As a result, the people of Fadak, who were also Jews, heard what happened to their fellow Jews at Khaybar , surrendered completely, and asked Muhammad to spare their lives in return for their property.174

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After the victory at Khaybar and Fadak, the Prophet returned to Medina for a few months, sending out more expeditions. He subsequently decided to perform ᶜumrat al-qaḍā’ (the lesser pilgrimage of fulfillment) (7/629) in Dhū al-Qaᶜda (the same month in which the Meccans had previously prevented him from perform ing a pilgrimage), by sending the Believers to march on Mecca.175 The pilgrimage was supposed to be completely peaceful due to the treaty with Meccans, but 2000 Believers joined the Prophet and were fully armed with spears, arrows, and shields in a majestic procession, which seemed to the Meccans as a provocative act.176 As tensions escalated, a breaking of the Treaty of Ḥudaybiyya was reported. The Prophet, consequently, led an army consisting of 10,000 Muslim warriors to yaftaḥ (open, conquer) Mecca in the month of Ramaḍān of A.H. 8. This conquest occurred after Muhammad considered the Meccans to have broken the Treaty of Ḥudaybiyya, although their chief master, Abū Sufyān, is reported to have desired peace with the Believers since he knew the balance of power was in their favor.177 All attempts by Abū Sufyān to prevent the marching of the Muslims toward Mecca failed. He eventually accepted Islam on the eve of the conquest of Mecca and called for his Meccan people to surrender to the Muslims.178 Thus, the Muslim army entered Mecca on the 18th of Ramaḍān in A.H. 8.179 When Muhammad and the Believers seized the Kaᶜba (Kaaba), they destroyed all its idols. The Prophet then recited parts of the Qur’ān and delivered a speech.180 After this brief sketch of the politicalsituation in Arabia and its developments, between Uḥud and fatḥ Mecca (3/625–8/630), I will now critically assess some of the major military activities in this period, which reached their culmination at the conquest of Mecca: (1) the raid to Banū al-Naḍīr, (2) the battle of the Trench, (3) the raid to Banū Qurayẓa, (4) the raid to Khaybar and Fadak, and (5) the conquest of Mecca. The aim is to test critically the traditional Muslim hypothesis regarding the religious motivation for the maghāzī.

Banū al-Naḍīr Al-Ṭabarī writes that, in A.H. 4, ajlā al-nabī Banū al-Naḍīr min diyārihim (the Prophet expelled the clan of al-Naḍīr from their homes).181 This incident transpired almost one year after the expelling of the Jewish tribe of Banū Qaynuqāᶜ (around the end of A.H. 2),182 following the murder of two Jews—Kaᶜb ibn al-Ashraf183 and Abī Rāfiᶜ.184 By expelling Banū al-Naḍīr immediately after the defeat at Uḥud, the Believers succeeded in consolidating more power in Medina. It is reasonable to assume that the presence of the Jews with their holy book pre sented a threat against the authenticity of the newly born religious community.185 The story of the eviction speaks volumes about the likeliest motivation for the raid of this particular Jewish tribe. According to Ibn Hishām, ᶜAmr ibn Umayya al-Ḍamrī (a Muslim companion) killed two men of Banū ᶜĀmir, a tribe that had

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ᶜaqd al-jiwār (a covenant of neighborhood) with the Muslims.186 Muhammad decided that the Muslims would pay Banū ᶜĀmir the diyyat al-qatīl (blood-money) in compensation for the killing. He, accompanied by a group of muhājirūn and anṣār, approached Banū al-Naḍīr and asked them to contribute financially toward the blood-money. The classical Muslim sources do not indicate any connection between Banū al-Naḍīr and the killing, but report that Muhammad asked them to contribute in any event. Al-Ṭabarī explains that Banū al-Naḍīr had a ḥilf wa ᶜaqd (treaty and covenant) with Banū ᶜĀmir;187 however, Banū al-Naḍīr answered Muhammad affirming that they would help.188 This was a generous action of al-Naḍīr, as they were not involved in the killing. While the Prophet and his companions were waiting to obtain the contribution from Banū al-Naḍīr, he told them that he had received khabaran min al-samā’ (news from heaven) that Banū al-Naḍīr was planning to kill him by dropping a rock from the roof of the house on his head. He then returned to Medina and told his people of the treachery and disloyalty of the Jews, “ordering [the Muslims] to get ready to fight them.”189 Al-Ṭabarī observes that Muhammad marched with an army, seized the Jewish tribe, and ordered the plundering and burning of their palm trees, which for the Jews constituted an act of fasād (corruption or perversity) on the part of the Muslims.190 The Jewish tribe, thus, surrendered to the Muslims and left their homes, as well as “their gold, silver, and weapons.”191 The account of ijlā’ (expelling or evicting) Banū al-Naḍīr from their homes includes aspects which are hard to believe or unreasonable to accept. Banū al-Naḍīr are not reported to have had anything to do with the killing of the two men of Banū ᶜĀmir, yet they were required to contribute to the blood-money regardless. This would have violated their established covenant with Banū ᶜĀmir. The classical Muslim account does not state clearly why the Prophet demanded the Jews of Banū al-Naḍīr in particular to contribute to such bloodmoney. It is noteworthy that, according to early Muslim sources, almost one year before this encounter the Muslims assassinated Kaᶜb ibn al-Ashraf, a Jew whose mother is from this very tribe.192 Approaching Banū al-Naḍīr for money would have been a provocative act. Moreover, why did the leader choose to go in person with a group of his trustworthy companions to request money? This narrative describes a small army, overlooking their own past misconduct, descending upon an enemy to demand financial support. This act would provoke aggression. The Prophet, we are told, brought companions with him to the meeting with Banū al-Naḍīr. In front of them all, Banū al-Naḍīr agreed to help the Muslims, which was very generous, as they had nothing to do with the killing. Unexpectedly, a divine revelation came as a warning. The Prophet was the only one to discern that it warned against the treachery and betrayal of Banū al-Naḍīr.

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In this regard, various questions remain unanswered: How would Banū al-Naḍīr kill the Prophet while he was surrounded by his men? Why did the warning come after the Prophet and his men traveled all the way to the meeting, instead of beforehand? The Muslim account does not answer these questions, and raises more questions about what took place after Banū al-Naḍīr accepted Muhammad’s demand. It is worth noting that Banū al-Naḍīr agreed publicly (in front of many Muslims) to help the Believers. If the Jews changed their mind afterward—which is highly unlikely—this would have been viewed as a declaration of war against the Muslims, thereby justifying the raid. Moreover, we are told in Muslim tradition that after the Jews heard that the Believers were marching to fight them, Banū al-Naḍīr showed a clear desire for peace and refused to fight. The Prophet responded to them, ordering them to get out min bilādih (of his lands),193 declaring that maḥā al-islām al-ᶜuhūd (Islam erased the treaties [or covenants]).194 We are told that the Prophet came to them escorted by katā’ib (battalions or armed troops),195 which showed that the Believers were ready to fight. Contrary to traditional interpretations of this raid, it appears that the Jews received the provocative action of the Believers graciously, as they confirmed they would contribute financially. When they yielded and agreed to cooperate, the Believers had to create a story to justify expelling them “from their homes.”196 It can be ar gued that in the lar ger scheme of events, it was necessary for the Believers to secure control and regain influence in Medina after their defeat against the Meccans at Uḥud.197 This is corroborated by al-Ṭabarī, who writes that, when the Prophet received the vision concerning the killing plot by the Jews, he snuck back to his home without even telling his companions. When he was later seen in his mosque, he asserted, hammat yahūdun bi-qatlī (some Jews plotted to kill me) and Allah forewarned me.198 The Prophet left the meeting with Banū al-Naḍīr and went to his mosque on his own, leaving his katā’ib (armed troops) behind. If the Jews truly desired to kill him, they would have done so while he was unaccompanied. If we hypothetically accept that the classical Muslim account of expelling Banū al-Naḍīr is correct, it is reasonable to assume that the Believers were uncertain of and threatened by the existence of the Jews in Medina. Consequently, thinking strategically and moving militarily, they had to initiate another provocative action after the killing of the notable Jewish chief Kaᶜb ibn al-Ashraf. The Prophet, in a tactical move, devised this confrontational act in order to create a tribally accepted reason for fighting and expelling the Jews. No textual evidence in our Muslim sources suggests faith-proclamation as a religious motivation in expelling Banū al-Naḍīr from their homes. The expulsion was a tribal act of force aimed at destroying (by burning and plundering their palm-trees) their basic source of income and finally evicting them from “their homes,” making them “Muhammad’s home.”199

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The Battle of the Trench The Battle of al-Khandaq (the Trench), also known as ghazwat al-Aḥzāb (the Battle of the Confederates), took place in (5/627). By all Muslim accounts, in this battle the Believers achieved a significant victory over the confederates, Meccans and Jews.200 It marks a turning point for the Believers after their defeat in Uḥud. It was preceded by another successful raid, Badr al-ākhira (or al-Sawīq, which is also known as Badr al-mawᶜid) around the end of A.H. 4.201 The Battle of the Trench, according to al-Ṭabarī, was initiated by various wicked schemers of Banū al-Naḍīr, including Ḥuyayy ibn Akhṭab and Sallām ibn Abī al-Ḥuqayq. These Jews sought revenge against Muhammad for expelling their tribe from Medina, forming a party that marched to the Quraysh at Mecca and call ing upon the Meccans to join them in attacking the Believers at Medina. The goal was to eliminate Muhammad once and for all.202 In addition to the Jews, the confederates included the Quraysh, Ghaṭfān, and others.203 Muhammad, in response to this plot, followed the advice of Salmān al-Fārisī to dig a trench.204 Every capable Muslim, including the Prophet himself, worked diligently to dig the trench in six days.205 It is worth noting that even the Jewish tribe of Qurayẓa, which was at Medina at the time, supported him in the digging process by providing him with instruments, tools, and money in accordance to its covenant with Muhammad.206 With various other details in this battle, including a failed Jewish conspiracy, the Muslims gained a significant victory at the end, although they were only 3,000 against 10,000 of the confederates.207 Regarding the account of al-Khandaq, it is not surprising that it includes a specific section on the miracles of the Prophet.208 It appears that when the narrators fail to defend, justify, or explain the actions or decisions of the leaders, or where there is not enough support to justify a prophetic office, they resort to interpolating supernatural elements in their narratives.209 Inserting these elements, it seems, provides a more appealing historical account in their view, confirming the superiority of Islam and justifying the supremacy of the Prophet.210 Nevertheless, while these supernatural elements are believed by the faithful, they are not realistic to a critical reviewer. In actuality, they create difficult questions about the validity of the Muslim accounts. Consider, for example, some of the miraculous deeds during the digging of the trench: (1) When a Muslim man complained about the toughness of the rocky ground in which he was digging, the Prophet spat in some water , then sprinkled the water on it, making it as if “it were soft sand”211; (2) Muhammad fed the multitudes of workers with a handful of dates 212; (3) while the Prophet was using a pick on a large rock, the pick gave off three bright flashes of lightning, and thus he declared that “the first [strike and lightning] means that God has opened up to me

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the Yemen; the second Syria and the west; and the third the east,” 213 and so forth. Undoubtedly, the Prophet is to be respected, revered, and honored by the faithful, but these supernatural elements appear forged and tendentiously added in order to bathe the Battle of the Trench in a religious light. Needless to mention, there are similarities here to the Biblica l accounts of Jesus feeding the multitudes, which may reflect later Muslim authors’ apologetic discourse.214 In any case, even the Qur’ān itself does not explicitly mention the miracles of the trench, although it was presumably compiled long before the Muslim histories and sīra. Classical Muslim narrators, I contend, resorted to adding these supernatural components for at least three reasons: (1) to emphasize the uniqueness and supremacy of the Prophet, which is a legitimate religious objective; (2) to encourage the Believers who might be disheartened by the various accounts of defeat in battles, when they were supposed to be protect ed by Allah and his heavenly angels; (3) to make the task of digging the trench and similar future tasks appealing to the Muslim workers as well as to the readers of such accounts. It seems reasonable to argue that these reports of miracles are later interpolations that seek to bolster the umma’s faith by portraying the Khandaq military victory as Allah’s mighty work. This victory at al-Khandaq does not require all these supernatural elements in order to explain it. On the one hand, according to Muslim accounts, the victory identifies two specific Muslim heroes who were mere mortals: Salmān the Persian, who is to be commended for his remarkable idea of the trench, 215 and ᶜAbdullāh ibn Ubayy ibn Salūl, who advised the Prophet to stay protected within Medina—advice which was ignored earlier and led in part to the defeat at Uḥud.216 On the other hand, classical Muslim sources also reveal, at least seven obvious and natural reasons exist for the victory of the Believers at al-Khandaq: (1) the genius idea of the trench, which protected the Muslims within Medina while the confederates remained out side with no significant protection217; (2) the confederates were most likely divided and in disharmony because they represented different tribes and backgrounds, which made them weaker than the Muslims, as evidenced by the disagreement between Abū Sufyān (Pagan of Mecca) and Ḥuyayy ibn Akhṭab (Jewish Chief of Banū al-Naḍīr)—two crucial leaders among the confederates; (3) the role of Nuᶜaym ibn Masᶜūd (of the tribe of Ghaṭfān), whose conversion to Islam was not yet announced, as he successfully urged Banū Qurayẓa to keep their treaty with Muhammad, with the result that they supported the Muslims218; (4) Muhammad, in an intelligent move, was able to reach a deal with Ghaṭfān (through giving money to their leaders ᶜUyayna ibn Ḥiṣn and al-Ḥārith ibn ᶜAwf) and the Bedouins through negotiations, so that they opposed the confederates 219; (5) the support Muhammad received from Banū Qurayẓa, through the provision of their tools, helped the Muslims dig the trench very quickly (only six days)220; (6) the obvious reluctance of Banū Qurayẓa to support the

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confederates indirectly supported the Believers and weakened the aḥzāb221; (7) the severe weather conditions af fected only the confederates while the Muslims were sheltered behind both the mountains of Medina and the trench.222 Considering these seven natural reasons, the victory of the Believers was nearly inevitable. It needed no supernatural components or paranormal textual elements, nor was it religiously driven. Above all else, the victory can be explained by the brilliant advice of Salmān and ᶜAbdullāh ibn Salūl, in addition to the complex role Nuᶜaym played to create disharmony and resentment among the confederates. A religious motivation for the battle (or even as a reason for the victory) is not supported by a critical examination of the Muslim accounts.

Banū Qurayẓa The encounter with Banū Qurayẓa appears in the classical Muslim accounts as occurring after the Battle of the Trench, and is called the raid of Banū Qurayẓa.223 Some secondary studies by modern Muslim authors consider it annihilation, butchery, or massacre.224 Some modern Muslim scholars argue that murdering the Jewish men in this incident, which may appear aggressive, was actually in harmony with their own scripture, as they did not appreciate the kindness shown to them by the Prophet.225 Others claim the raid never occurred.226 Non-Muslim authors usually refer to it as extermination, genocide, or butchery.227 However, some of them defend the actions of the Prophet and his companions, providing various reasons for the harsh treatment of the Jews.228 The raid is described in Muslim tradition as follows. Immediately after the Battle of the Trench, the angel Gabriel appeared to Muhammad when he was alone and instructed him to march immediately against Banū Qurayẓa.229 The Believers followed this divine order and besieged the tribe for nearly 25 days (some say a month), until the Jews surrendered, because Allah “cast terror into their hearts.”230 Muhammad asked them whether they would accept the judgment of one of their own, Saᶜd ibn Muᶜādh (who was a member of their tribe and a convert to Islam), and they agreed. Saᶜd stated his decree: “the men should be killed, the property divided, and the women and children taken as captives.”231 Consequently, Muhammad went to the Medinan market and dug several trenches, and baᶜath ilayhim fa-ḍarab aᶜnāqahum (sent for them and cut off their heads) in those trenches.232 In another report, by al-Ṭabarī, the Prophet gave orders to dig a trench and asked ᶜAlī and al-Zubayr to yaḍribān aᶜnāqahum (strike their necks) in his hands; additionally, he himself killed only one woman: the wife of the chief of Banū Qurayẓa.233 After the killing of the men, “Muhammad qassam (divided) the properties, women, and children of Banū Qurayẓa among the Muslims.”234 He sold al-sabāyā (the captive women) of Banū Qurayẓa and used the money to purchase

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horses and silāḥan (armament weapons).235 Finally, the Prophet iṣṭafā li-nafsih min nisā’ihim (selected for himself one of their [Jewish] women), Rayḥāna bint Zayd, as wife, although she refused to quit Judaism to convert to Islam.236 The raid of Banū Qurayẓa raises various questions, shedding doubts on the validity of the traditional argument regarding the religious motivation for the expeditions. Doubtless, this incident brings significant shame to Muslim apologists. One of their major justifications for the violence is that Banū Qurayẓa broke the treaty with the Muslims,237 but this assertion is not supported by the Muslim accounts for various reasons. There is no textual evidence that Banū Qurayẓa killed any Muslims during the battle. When besieged, we are told, the Jewish tribe surrendered completely. If true, there could be no justification for slaying all the men after their surrender, especially as they did not initiate an attack against the Believers. There is also no reason given, in the Muslim sources, for the reported enslaving women and children who never participated in battle. Even if, hypothetically speaking, the men had violated the treaty with the Believers, the punishment of women and children would have been unreasonable and unwarranted. This is not to argue that the reported fate of the men was unusual in tribal warfare; it is likely that, in seventh-century Arabian culture, similar atrocities took place.238 This raid, contrary to traditional Muslim interpretations, was not for the purpose of proclaiming religion, nor for self-defense. It is better viewed as a tribal incursion to gain hegemony and secure resources like any other pre-Islamic raid.239 Nevertheless, suggesting that the raid to Banū Qurayẓa was merely a typical seventh-century Arabian tribal incursion is not an attempt to justify the incident or support its legitimacy. The Jewish tribe, according to celebrated classical Muslim accounts, never cooperated with the confederates during the battle of al-Khandaq.240 The members of the tribe even provided the Muslims with tools to dig the trench.241 Even some Muslim accounts indicate that Banū Qurayẓa showed reluctance to support the confederates, claiming it was a Saturday.242 Undoubtedly, religious enthusiasts will insist that, Banū Qurayẓa did break the treaty, but that argument is hardly plausible. Furthermore, the dialogue which reportedly took place during the alleged conspiracy (against the Muslims) between the leader of Banū Qurayẓa (Kaᶜb ibn Asad) and one of the leaders of the confederates (Ḥuyayy ibn Akhṭab) seems questionable. It arguably never happened, as the narrators provide specific details of the dialogue, which could not have been obtained unless the writers (or at least their informants) were present in person with the two leaders during their private dialogue.243 If we hypothetically accept that the dialogue between Ḥuyayy and Kaᶜb occurred and the conspiracy was true, we still need to remember that the people of Banū Qurayẓa did not support the confederates, according to some celebrated Muslim sources.244 Undoubtedly, the classical Arabic accounts do not favor the Jews. However, we can trace textual elements in Muslim historiography that

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suggest the Jews of Banū Qurayẓa did not break the treaty and that the raid against them was only for the Believers to declare hegemony and establish dominion. Concerning the traditionally claimed religious motivation for the raid to Banū Qurayẓa, no evidence is available in the accounts of al-Ṭabarī, Ibn Hishām, al-Wāqidī, al-Balādhurī, or al-Kalāᶜī, among others, that this raid was intended to proclaim the Muslims’ newfound faith. It is more historically accurate to argue that the treatment of the Jews after they surrendered reflects common tribal rules of regular incursions.245 The Prophet, as a powerful and victorious leader, dug several trenches and participated in the beheadings.246 This is more properly viewed as the political action of a capable leader rather than the religious behavior of an inspired person. The Prophet is reported to have instructed the killing of not only the men, but also kull man anbat minhum (all those with pubic hair).247 This resulted in the beheading of “600 or 700 in all, though some put the figure as high as 800 or 900.”248 Surprisingly, al-Bayhaqī affirms that Saᶜd ibn Muᶜādh, because of his judgment against Banū Qurayẓa and the decree he stated, was rewarded by 70,000 malak (archangels) welcoming him upon his death.249 The story of the raid to Banū Qurayẓa reflects a tribal extermination for political reasons rather than a faith-driven activity. Though acting with an understandable motivation, Muslims who adopt a traditional interpretation of this raid do not, in fact, honor their faith. When they claim religious reasons for the raid and the ensuing violence, they must wrestle with the execution of surrendered men and the enslaving of women and children. In any event, it is historically more accurate to regard the raid as a common Arabian incursion disassociated from religion. While some authors entertain the argument that the raid on Banū Qurayẓa never happened,250 our Arabic sources authenticate it through many celebrated classical Muslim historians, including Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba, Ibn Isḥāq, Ibn Hishām, al-Balādhurī, al-Ṭabarī, al-Kalāᶜī, al-Bayhaqī, and others. The widespread tradition of this raid in the Muslim histories, ḥadīth collections, and in classical and modern tafsīr,251 suggests that it not only occurred, but also that it was aimed at securing power, advancing dominion, and eliminating enemies rather than proclaiming faith. The modern historian Meir Kister, in his analysis of this raid, rightly concludes, “The military strength of the Muslim community of Medina grew due to the weapons taken as booty; the sale of the captured women and children as slaves for horses and weapons enabled to enlarge the Muslim military force for further conquests.”252

The Raid to Khaybar and Fadak Concerning the raid against Khaybar (7/629), it is obvious that Muhammad had gained enough power, after the successful raids and the Treaty of Ḥudaybiyya (6/628), to provide him a temporary period of less tension with the Meccans, which enabled him to focus on the Jews.253 Ibn Hishām and al-Ṭabarī note that the

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Prophet initiated the raid to Khaybar.254 Thus, according to these celebrated narrators, the raid was not for self-defense, as the people of Khaybar did not attack the Believers. Al-Balādhurī states, “The Prophet ghazā (invaded) Khaybar in the year 7.”255 Kināna ibn Abī al-Ḥaqīq was the chief of Khaybar, and his beautiful wife Ṣafiyya bint Ḥuyayy is reported to have wished for a different husband, precisely malik al-ḥijāz Muḥamadan (the king of the Hijaz, Muhammad).256 According to this report, it is reasonable to assume that Muhammad was now so much more powerful that he was viewed in Arabia, even by his enemies, as the upcoming king. While in classical Muslim accounts there is no stated reason for the raid on Khaybar, the raid itself appears as a sequel to several other successful raids. The Believers were growing in power and wanted to keep the Hijazfree from the Jews, after having vanquished and expelled the three leading tribes.257 Consequently, the Prophet began to focus on the two major Jewish settlements in the Hijaz, especially as he already had a peace treaty with the Meccans. According to Muslim accounts, Muhammad arrived at Khaybar and demanded kanz (the treasure) of Banū al-Naḍīr from the Jewish chief Kināna, who responded that he was unaware of the alleged treasure. In the scheme of tribal political combat, it is most likely that this random story of hidden treasure was created to provoke a fight with the Jews. It is reported that the Prophet eventually found the treasure, accused the Jews of treason, and instructed the companion al-Zubayr to murder the Chief Kināna. The killing was severely painful and humiliating: “So he [Zubayr] kindled a fire with flint and steel on his [Kināna’s] chest until he was nearly dead. Then the apostle delivered him to Muhammad b. Maslama and he struck off his head.”258 After the killing of Kināna, his wife, Ṣafiyya was given to Muhammad to be his wife.259 Unfortunately, according to some classical accounts, the behavior of the Believers at Khaybar was less than honorable. It is reported that some of them raped pregnant Jewish women, which resulted in Muhammad declaring such action as forbidden.260 As for the money and possessions of Khaybar, Muhammad is reported to have ḥāz al-amwāl kullahā (kept all the possessions for himself).261 When the other Jewish settlement, Fadak, learned of what happened with Khaybar, we are told, they surrendered even before the Believers arrived: “When the people of Fadak heard of what had happened they sent to the apostle asking him to let them go and to spare their lives and they would leave him their property, and he did so.”262 According to Ibn Hishām, “Khaybar became the prey of the Muslims, while Fadak was the personal property of the apostle because they had not driven horses or camels against it.”263 The property of Fadak, the last Jewish settlement in the Hijaz, was given khāliṣa (entirely) to the Prophet.264 From a critical perspective, and according to the classical Muslim accounts, the Prophet was steadily growing in power, and thereby initiated the raid to Khaybar and Fadak in his pursuit of greater resources and possessions as well as political dominion over more regions in Arabia.265 The textual evidence about the two raids

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does not include any faith-related proclamation whatsoever. The reported behavior of the Believers with the women of Khaybar and the encounter with Ṣafiyya, the wife of the chief of Khaybar, after his torture, certainly vitiates any possibility of a religiously driven campaign. Like several of the earlier raids, these expeditions are better viewed as tribal incursions, accomplished within the sociopolitical scheme of typical nomadic life for seventh-century Arabia. With the suppression and surrender of Khaybar and Fadak, Muhammad successfully disposed of the enemies among the Jews of the Hijaz: the three Jewish tribes (Qaynuqāᶜ, Naḍīr, Qurayẓa) and the two Jewish settlements at Khaybar and Fadak. Some Jews were expelled from their homes and others killed; consequently, the Jews ceased to pose any significant threat. Additionally, the Meccans were nearly powerless because of the Treaty of Ḥudaybiyya. Muhammad now appeared as the “king of the Hijaz,” according to the reports of the conquered people. He had no significant enemy; therefore, he was tactically and militarily ready to plan for fatḥ al-futūḥ (the conquest of the conquests, i.e., the greatest conquest)—the conquest of Mecca.

Fatḥ Mecca The conquest of Mecca (8/630), as represented in classical Muslim accounts, appears as a negotiated surrender, rather than a victory achieved after battle. It was initiated because of an alleged report that Mecca broke the Treaty of Ḥudaybiyya (6/628). Tribal arrangements, schemes, and negotiations make up the core of our narratives. According to Ibn Hishām, the Quraysh and Banū Bakr united against a clan called Khuzāᶜa and killed some of them. Because Khuzāᶜa joined the party of Muhammad in the Treaty of Ḥudaybiyya, the Muslims determined that the Meccans—by supporting Banū Bakr—had broken the treaty, and this ahāj (stimulated) the conquest.266 The report of breaking the treaty , as found in Arabic sources, seems uncon vincing. It is unlikely that the Meccans wished to break the treaty, as they must have been aware of Muhammad’s growing power. It seems more plausible that the Believers were ready for the war against the Meccans and were seeking an excuse to initiate the fight. Most likely, the Believers desired to return to their beloved homeland, Mecca, from which they were forced to emigrate eight years earlier. The classical Muslim accounts depict the Quraysh as frightened by the alleged breach in the treaty.267 Abū Sufyān, sayyid Quraysh (the Quraysh’s master)268 approached Muhammad and begged him “to strengthen the agreement,” asking to keep and maintain the peace treaty “for more time.”269 A critical examination of the Muslim accounts raises questions about the report of the Meccans breaking the treaty and their alleged alliance with the tribe of Banū Bakr. While al-Ṭabarī points out that Banū Bakr initiated the violation, al-Balādhurī reports that Khuzāᶜa (Muhammad’s allies) were the ones who broke

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the treaty.270 Evidently, even the Muslim sources are not clear on that matter, and there are doubts regarding who broke the treaty. However, another report by al-Ṭabarī affirms that the initial move for breaking the treaty was actually taken by Muhammad’s allies: fa-iqtatalat ṭā’ifa min Banī Kaᶜb wa ṭā’ifa min Banī Bakr (a group of Banū Kaᶜb [Muhammad’s allies] fought with a group of Banū Bakr [Quraysh’s allies]).271 This report assigns Banū Kaᶜb (not Banū Bakr) as the initiator of the fight, or it is safe to assume that the fight was mutually initiated. The Believers were incorrect in their insistence that the Meccans broke the treaty. They seem to have been determined to find a legitimate excuse to fight the Meccans. In all cases, the treaty could have been upheld if the Prophet agreed to negotiate, especially after the serious attempts of the Meccans to maintain the peace by sending their chief leader, Abū Sufyān. It appears that, for the Believers, the time had come to get rid of the major enemy once and for all. Although the classical Muslim sources refer to “the conquest” of Mecca, there was never a raid on the city. The battle was already over before it began, due to the surrender of Abū Sufyān and his “conversion” to Islam. He accepted Islam during his dialogue with Muhammad.272 Various accounts report the conversation between the two leaders and indicate that Abū Sufyān was never convinced of Muhammad’s prophethood, although he always affirmed that there was no god but Allah.273 The conversion of Abū Sufyān was a decision made under the threat of losing his head: He [Muhammad] said: ‘Woe to you, Abū Sufyān, isn’t it time that you recognize that I am God’s apostle?’ He answered, ‘As to that I still have some doubt.’ I [al-ᶜAbbās] said to him, ‘Submit and testify that there is no God but Allah and that Muhammad is the apostle of God before you lose your head,’ so he did so. I pointed out to the apostle that Abū Sufyān was a man who liked to have some cause for pride and asked him to do something for him. He said, ‘He who enters Abū Sufyān’s house is safe, and he who locks his door is safe, and he who enters the mosque is safe.274

This conversation with Abū Sufyān occurred after an even more humiliating treatment from several Believers: When he sought the intercession of Umm Ḥabība (Abū Sufyān’s daughter who became Muslim) on his behalf to Muhammad, she refused and called him mushrik najis (unclean associater). After that, he tried to speak with Muhammad to avoid the upcoming battle, but the Prophet ignored him completely. When he spoke with the Prophet’s daughter Fāṭima, she also refused to help. Finally, he sought the advice of ᶜAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib, who advised him to return to Mecca, as nothing would help and the war was already decided.275 According to this portrayal, the humiliating treatment broke Abū Sufyān completely. He had to surrender. He was ready to give up and the only action which could save his life was to acc ept Islam, which essentially meant he must sub mit to the new reality of power in Arabia under the leadership of the victorious

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Muhammad. Once he accepted Islam, the Meccans had completely lost their leader. The battle was won, and the Believers were ready to march to Mecca. They were fī al-ḥadīd lā yurā minhum illā al-ḥadaq (armed in iron, and only their eyes were visible).276 When Abū Sufyān saw this, his heart fell and he told Muhammad’s uncle al-ᶜAbbās, la-qad aṣbaḥ mulk ibn akhīk ᶜaẓīman (the rule of your nephew has become great).277 This report shows the astonishment of the leader of Mecca, and reiterates that the battle was over even before it began. It is safe to deduce that the Believers lay in wait for the opportune time to con quer Mecca. It was their homeland, from which they were unjustly and unjustifiably expelled eight years earlier. Now they were powerful and ready to conquer, consolidate power, and take control. They created the issue of breaking the treaty or, at the very least, used the first opportunity to declare war. Both cases could be supported by classical Muslim accounts. However, the Believers benefitted from a situation, which was hardly meant to be confrontational.278 When the chief of Mecca, Abū Sufyān, was humiliated and his request to continue the treaty was refused, he had no other option but to “submit,” and thus “accept Islam,”279 or he would have lost his life. To conclude this section: What motivated the raids against the Jewish tribes (al-Naḍīr and Qurayẓa) and settlements (Khaybar and Fadak) as well as against the Meccans had virtually nothing to do with the proclamation of a religious message. The armies attacked tribes and conquered their lands to secure power, accumulate wealth, and gain hegemony. The raids under study were initiated by the Believers, which refutes the traditional Muslim claims that the maghāzī were only for self-defense.

Conclusion This chapter sought to test the traditional hypothesis set forth by traditional Muslim scholars regarding the religious motivation for the launching of the raids and expeditions led or commissioned by the Prophet Muhammad. The chapter focused on the raids between his hijra (1/622) and death (11/632), with a specific emphasis on Badr, Uḥud, and the conquest of Mecca. The critical assessment relies on Muslim authoritative sources: maghāzī, sīra, ṭabaqāt, and ta’rīkh. Through analyzing these sources, this chapter sets forth various critical observations. First, the early Muslim narrators described what they thought to have happened. In some cases, they portrayed a picture they wanted their audience to believe. Early writers were not chiefly concerned with demonstrating Muhammad’s maghāzī as being driven primarily by religious factors, namely, his desire to spread his new faith by converting the conquered people to it. This was not their concern. One does not provide an answer to a question that is never asked.

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Second, modern Muslim scholars who adopt a traditional approach to interpreting the emergence of Islam attempt to present the faith within the context of an era of religious pluralism when questions related to motives and reasons are crucial. These traditional scholars provide a religious motivation as the driving force for the maghāzī, claiming that early Believers were inspired by their zeal for the proclamation and spread of their new faith as they launched these raids. Third, contrary to such common traditional claims, a careful study of our Arabic sources allows that political domination and economic gain were chief motivations for the early Muslim expeditions. Though the writers of our sources were Muslims, who wrote from their perspective as primarily religious narrators, their accounts do not support traditi onal Muslim claims regarding maghāzī as having been undertaken for self-defense or for religious proclamation and conversion. Fourth, Muslim authors who adopt the traditional interpretation generally present the maghāzī as defensive military activities. These authors argue that the main reason for their launching was that Muhammad’ s hand was forced by the Jews and the Meccans, either to retrieve stolen property or to keep his land secure. This argument presents the Believers as pious warriors who were defending themselves after having faced harsh treatment and persecution from the Meccans. However, by examining the reports on maghāzī in the period under study, it seems obvious that the raids for the most part were not defensive. They were offensive and the driving force was essentially securing lands and accumulating resources. Fifth, concerning the early raids before Badr , there is no textual evidence in the classical Muslim narrative that these expeditions aimed at converting pagans to Islam, or even preaching it to them. At Badr, the Believers appeared to seek revenge on the Meccans who had expelled them from their homeland. They targeted their notables and successfully eliminated several leaders of the Quraysh. After Badr, the Believers sought the spoils of war and the ransoms paid by the Meccans. They treated the Meccan notables and prisoners of war in a humiliating and degrading manner. This suggests that the Believers sought power and resources rather than the conversion of the Meccans to Islam. At Uḥud, the Meccans, seeking revenge, prepared the resources and warriors that allowed for the defeat of the Believers. A close look at the defeat at Uḥud, as reported in classical sources, refutes traditional Muslim claims regarding the divine guidance and the heavenly protection provided by Allah to the early Believers. The Battle of Uḥud presents the Medina-Mecca struggle in its reality—a political-economic conflict, not a religious one. Sixth (and finally), the classical Muslim accounts of the raid to Banū al-Naḍīr, the battle of al-Khandaq, the execution of the men of Banū Qurayza, the raid to Khaybar and Fadak, and fatḥ Mecca, affirm that the main argument of the present study rings true. The fight with the Jews and the pagans of Mecca had nothing to do with proclaiming a religious message. Islam as a religion served primarily as

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the unifying power of the Believers, providing them with a shared identity after their having been scattered tribes and clans in Arabia. This religious unity provided additional support for the commonly practiced raids among the Arabs. It gave cohesion to those believe rs associated with Muhammad’s umma. However, the warriors did not go to war to proclaim Islam and win converts either volun tarily or involuntarily. They fought, instead, to secure economic resources through the spoils of war, ransoms, and the plundering of existing communities, and to establish hegemony through suppressing the Jews and Meccans. The reports of divine support and supernatural deeds found in the Arabic sources most likely reflect later interpolations and tendentious elements aimed at enforcing the “spiritual” component necessary for the religious portrayal of the events. Muslim enthusiasts adopting traditional arguments in today’s world do not actually advance the faith when they argue that the raids were driven by the religious zeal of pious leaders, since this conflates the proclamation of one’s faith with tribal incursions. In the end, the enthusiasts must address the textual evidence, which presents a different picture.

Notes 1. Mujāhid ibn Jabr, Tafsīr, 352, 368, 370 (hereafter Mujāhid 352, 368, 370). 2. Mujāhid 223. 3. Muqātil 2:3. Regarding the term mushrikūn or mushrikīn (singular mushrik), Hawting convincingly explains that the word refers to associaters or idolaters who were in fact “as bad as idolaters” because they were weak in their monotheism. Hawting, The Idea of Idolatry, 1, 62, 67. See also Crone, “The Religion of the Qur’ānic Pagans,” 151–200, where she argues that “the mushrikūn believed in the same Biblical God as the messenger and that their lesser beings, indiscriminately called gods and angels, functioned much like (dead) saints in later Islam and Christianity.” 4. Muqātil 2:27, on his commentary on sūrat al-Anfāl. 5. Ibn Jarīr al-Ṭabarī, Jāmiᶜ al-bayān fī ta’wīl al-Qur’ān, 3:570 (hereafter Ṭabarī, Tafsīr, 3:570), see also 3:565, and 3:562 regarding Allah commanding the fighting of al-kuffār. 6. Abū ᶜAbdullāh al-Qurṭubī, al-Jāmiᶜ li-aḥkām al-Qur’ān, 2:347 (hereafter Qurṭubī 2:347). 7. Qurṭubī 2:348. 8. Muḥammad ibn ᶜAbd al-Wahhāb, Mukhtaṣar sīrat al-Rasūl, 149–155. On ᶜAbd al-Wahhāb, see Ziriklī, Aᶜlām, 6:257–259; Kaḥḥāla, Muᶜjam, 10:269–270; Robinson, Historiography, 123; Waines, Introduction, 207. For Wahhābī origins and historiography as the ultrapuritanical form of Sunni Islam, as well as its main tenets and the development of that particular thought, see Esther Peskes, ed., Wahhabism (Berlin: Gerlach Press, 2015). 9. Quṭb, Fī ẓilāl al-Qur’ān, 1:187, as he explains sūrat al-Baqara (Q 2:190–193). See also his traditional, and essentially apologetic, approach emphasized in 1:188–189. On Quṭb, see Ziriklī, Aᶜlām, 3:147–148.

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10. Rashīd Riḍā, Tafsīr al-manār, 2:208 (hereafter Riḍā 2:208). On Riḍā, see Ziriklī, Aᶜlām, 6:126–127; Donohue and Esposito, eds., Islam, 103; Sirry, Scriptural Polemics, 16, 26ff, and 71ff; Jafar, “Modern Qur’ānic Exegesis”; Wood, Christian Criticisms, Islamic Proofs, ch. 2. 11. Shaᶜrāwī, Khawāṭirī ḥawl al-Qur’ān, 2:821, as he interprets sūrat al-Baqara. 12. Haykal, Ḥayāt Muḥammad, 257. On Haykal and his works and approach, see Rippin, Muslims, 204–207. 13. Yūsuf al-Qaraḍāwī, al-Aqaliyyāt al-dīniyya wa-l-ḥall al-islāmī, 44. 14. Yūsuf al-Qaraḍāwī, Tārikhunā al-muftarā ᶜalayhi, 181–185. 15. Qaraḍāwī, Tārikhunā, 197–198. 16. Tariq Ramadan, In the Footsteps of the Prophet, 98. In an interesting assertion, he suggests that “jihad and qital are the ways that, by resisting the dark temptations of the inner self as well as human beings’ proclivity for war, will make it possible to reach peace, the fruit of an ever-renewed effort to overcome temptations as well as oppressors; the essence of jihad is the quest for peace, andqital is, at times, the necessary path to peace” (99). He links jihad and qitāl as terms of fighting and transforms their meanings to components of self-piety and peace building. 17. For a good summary of this early period, see David Cook, Understanding Jihad, 5–8. There are doubts concerning the exact date of Muhammad’s death; see Shoemaker, The Death of a Prophet, 1–16, where he demonstrates that, although the earliest available Biography of Muhammad places his death in Medina in 632, other sources, Muslim and non-Muslim alike, indicate that he was alive for several years after that and led the conquest of Palestine in 634–635. 18. Ibn Shihāb al-Zuhrī, al-Maghāzī al-nabawiyya, 62 (hereafter Zuhrī 62). Al-Zuhrī in this assertion seems to match another earlier account of Muhammad’s maghāzī, by Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba (d. 141/758), al-Maghāzī, 117–119 (hereafter Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba 117–119). Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba lists the raids Muhammad led in person and that the first was Badr (117). See also Khalīfa ibn Khayyāṭ (d. 240/854), Ta’rīkh, 1:54–56. For a shīᶜī negative perspective on al-Zuhrī, see Thaqafī, Kitāb al-ghārāt, 395. 19. Ibn Hishām, Sīrat al-nabī, 2:688–689, and 2:700 (hereafter Ibn Hishām 2:688–689; volume#:section#); see the critical translation by Alfred Guillaume, The Life of Muhammad, 281–286 (hereafter Guillaume 281–286). See Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:10–13; Ibn ᶜAbd al-Barr, al-Durar, 95–97; Dhahabī, Ta’rīkh al-Islām, 2:47ff. 20. Such as those of al-Zuhrī (d. 124/741–742), al-Wāqidī (d. 207/822), Ibn Hishām (d. 218/833), al-Ṭabarī (d. 310/923), Ibn ᶜAbd al-Barr (d. 463/1071), al-Bayhaqī (d. 458/1066), and others. 21. For the meaning of “religious motivation,” see Chapter One in this study. 22. Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:10–13. See also Ibn Wāḍiḥ al-Yaᶜqūbī, Historiae, 2:44–45 (hereafter Yaᶜqūbī 2:44–45). See also Muḥammad Ibn Saᶜd, Kitāb al-ṭabaqāt al-kabīr, 2:6 (hereafter Ibn Saᶜd 2:6). 23. The term sarāyā is the plural of sariyya. Muslim authors generally use different Arabic words to describe Muhammad’s military activity; ghazwa, biᶜtha, sariyya, liwā’, and fatḥ. The differences between these words are not always clear. Haykal, however, suggests that, as a rule, when the Prophet participates in a battle, then it is a ghazwa, but if he only commissioned it, then it is a sariyya. Haykal, Ḥayāt Muḥammad, 255–257. According to Haykal, sariyya represents a frontier or vanguard of a small army that was sent by the

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Prophet, but lacking his personal presence. Haykal, in some cases, does not seem to support a traditional religious interpretation for what motivated the early raids, as he demonstrates how the Muslims sought to gain wealth and to control the trading roads which were then under the control of the Quraysh (257). For a reformer Muslim approach, commenting on the traditional one, see Muḥammad Arkūn (1928–2010), al-ᶜAlmana wa-l-dīn, 36–52. Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:10–13. Al-Zuhrī seems to ignore the earlier raids in an attempt to emphasize the great Battle of Badr. See Zuhrī 62, and Ibn Saᶜd 2:5–8, who is more sophisticated in his list. Ibn Hishām 2:698–700. See Ṭabarī 3:1270–1271. See also Aḥmad al-Bayhaqī, Dalā’il al-nubuwwa, 3:11 (hereafter Bayhaqī 3:11). The third volume in al-Bayhaqī’s work is dedicated to describing the raids of the Prophet. For al-Bayhaqī (d. 458/1066), see Ziriklī, Aᶜlām, 1:116; Kaḥḥāla, Muᶜjam, 1:206. Al-Wāqidī lists different maghāzī, buᶜūth, sarāyā, and liwā’āt: the Prophet led 27 raids and fought in 9 of them, in addition to 47 sariyya. See Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:7. Kharkūshī, Sharaf, 3:10, where he provides different numbers. Haykal argues that these early raids were not necessarily to take revenge on the Quraysh, nor were they to secure resources. Rather, they aimed at convincing the Meccans to make a strategic deal with Muhammad, so that the Muslims may return to Mecca—their homeland—to worship Allah freely and call openly for the new religion, in return for allowing the Quraysh to continue its caravan trade. Haykal, Ḥayāt Muḥammad, 256–258. The Shiite writer Sayed Razwy states, “Muhammad Mustafa, the Messenger of God, had to fight a series of battles in the defense of Islam from his new home in Medina” (59). Razwy, A Restatement of the History of Islam and Muslims, 59. This quote is from his argument regarding the battles of Islam, particularly the raids before Badr and Uḥud. See al-Qimany, Ḥizb, 16, where he argues that political power meant a great deal to the Prophet, as he “took some speeded steps to establish a strong milit ary power, which resulted in unifying the entire Arabian Peninsula” (131). See also ᶜAbd al-Raḥmān, Judhūr al-quwwa al-islāmiyya, 81–89. The Egyptian Muslim author Khalīl ᶜAbd al-Karīm points out that Muhammad’s followers grew not only in number, but also in accumulating wealth. Their number grew from a handful of companions to about 114,000 that witnessed Muhammad’s khuṭbat al-wadāᶜ (Farewell Sermon). Quoting primary sources, he highlights how early Muslims were poor, humiliated, and oppressed, but after the raids became the wealthiest in that society (the elites). See ᶜAbd al-Karīm, Shadwu, 2:113. The early raids with their aslāb, ghanā’im, and anfāl (three types of the spoils of war and booties) provided the Muslims with significant wealth. In a relatively lengthy chapter, ᶜAbd al-Karīm demonstrates the behavior of the companions regarding money, and how they loved and sought it both during and after Muhammad’s lifetime (2:111–250). Regarding the preparing and training of the anṣār and muhājirūn, see Qimany, Ḥurūb, 1:37. Concerning the attacks on the Quraysh by destroying their trade, al-Qimany offers a valuable assessment; Qimany, Ḥurūb, 1:39. See also ᶜAbd al-Raḥmān, Judhūr al-quwwa, 81ff; Haykal, Ḥayāt Muḥammad, 256–258. As for the importance of trade routes to the people of the Quraysh, Kister observes that “Mecca owed its existence to trade. Pilgrimage rite and trade were indivisible in this city,” and that “Trade in Mecca remained thus inseparably connected with religious rites, as it was in the times of the Jāhiliyya.” Kister,

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“Some Reports Concerning Mecca from Jāhiliyya to Islam,” 61–93. Similarly, Donner argues that “Muhammad’s success can be attributed in part to Mecca’s reliance on trade, and to Muḥammad’s skillful disruption of that trade.” Donner, “Mecca’s Food Supplies and Muhammad’s Boycott,” 249–250. Muhammad’s concern with alliances and protection was obvious. While in Mecca, Muhammad gained protection from his tribe Banū Hāshim. As he moved to Medina, his akhwāl (uncles from his mother’s side) supported him and he needed to create various alliances to make sure of his control and power. Ṭabarī 3:1219–1222. Ṭabarī 3:1220, where he observes that Muhammad’s uncle was ᶜalā dīn qawmih (in the religion of his people or household). See Ibn Hishām 2:450. Our sources date back to the ᶜAbbāsid period, and al-ᶜAbbās is a very important figure since he serves as the eponymous ancestor of the ᶜAbbāsids. See, for instance, the list of the virtues of al-ᶜAbbās as reported by Ibn Ḥabīb al-Baghdādī (d. 245/860), al-Munammaq, 38–41. See the critical assessment of Borrut, Entre Mémoire, 81, where he argues that the ᶜAbbāsids tried to impose the figure of al-ᶜAbbās at the expense of his brother Abū Ṭālib. See Jacob Lassner, Islamic Revolution and Historical Memory, which is an inquiry into the ᶜAbbaāsid apologetics against the Umayyads. The Muslim author ᶜAbd al-Raḥmān suggests that al-ᶜAbbās served as a spy for Muhammad between the Meccans, Judhūr al-quwwa, 91. Ṭabarī 3:1221; Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba 91; Ibn Hishām 2:447–450. Ibn Ḥibbān, al-Sīra, 1:119ff. The Second Aqaba Pledge, according to al-Ṭabarī, was bayᶜa ᶜalā ḥarb al-aḥmar wa-l-aswad min al-nās (a pledge to support Muhammad in wars against the red and black people [most likely meaning the non-Arabs and Arabs]). Ṭabarī 3:1221; Ibn Hishām 2:456. The Pledge was for both protection and support in battles. See also Dhahabī, Ta’rīkh al-Islām, 1:297. To compare with the First Aqaba Pledge, see Ṭabarī 3:1211–1213; Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba 88–91; Ibn Hishām 2:436; Bayhaqī 2:446–449. Thus, Watt observes, “The phenomenal expansion was primarily a political expansion, and was based on the two concepts of razzia and federation together with a third that may be called military aristocracy.” Watt, “Islamic Conceptions of the Holy War,” 147. See also the recent study of Hoyland, God’s Path, 56. See Qimany, Ḥurūb, 1:35–38. Compare with Ibn Hishām 2:450, where the author points out that, before the Second Aqaba Pledge, Muhammad was not allowed to fight. Ibn Hishām 2:482; Guillaume 212–213. Watt writes, “though the fighting that led to the expansion of the Islamic state might be called jihād, it was not primarily an operation aimed at conversion.” Watt, “Islamic Conceptions,” 149. See Ibn Hishām 2:540, as he speaks of al-mu’ākhāt (creating peace and fraternity) between the muhājirūn and the anṣār. On mu’ākhāt, see Ibn Ḥabīb, Muḥabbar, 72ff; Haykal, Ḥayāt Muḥammad, 237; ᶜAbd al-Raḥmān, Judhūr al-quwwa, 84–86; Qimany, Ḥurūb, 1:37. Al-Qimany observes that Muhammad had to begin after arriving in Medina with al-mu’ākhāt between the two major tribes (Aws and Khazraj) to receive their support. The Prophet did the same with the two Muslim groups (muhājirūn and anṣār) (37). The result of such unions was a very strong bond between the Muslims that surpassed any other tribal union. The point al-Qimany makes is that after the hijra, and because of the various raids against the Meccans, “while Mecca was dissolving tribally into a caste system, Medina was being unified īmāniyan wa ṭabaqiyyan (with regard to faith and class)” (37).

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4 1. Ibn Hishām 2:706. 42. In Arabic, the word salb refers to snatching, looting, or plundering. For ghanīma and fay’, see Yaḥyā ibn Ādam (d. 203/818), Kitāb al-kharāj, 58–61, 82. A very important source to explain the various terms for the spoils of war is Kitāb al-amwāl by Abū ᶜUbayd al-Qāsim ibn Sallām al-Khuzāᶜī (d. 224/838): Kitāb al-amwāl. Regarding al-fay’, see pp.  87–96, 132–145, 301–311; as for distinguishing between ghanīma and fay’, see pp.  342–349. Concerning the salb, see pp. 403–408 and for distributing the fay’, see pp. 354–363. An English translation of Kitāb al-amwāl is now available as The Book of Revenue. See the fay’ in ch. 2 (pp. 17–24) and ch. 7 (211–239), the salb (pp. 295–304). See also Ibn Zanjawayh (d. 251/865), Kitāb al-amwāl, 477ff; Ibn Qudāma, al-Mughnī, 6:453ff; see also Kister, “Land Property,” 273. 43. ᶜAbd al-Karīm, Shadwu, 1:75–77. ᶜAbd al-Karīm quotes various Muslim traditions to demonstrate this list of material rewards given to the warriors upon their victory in the battles. 44. Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:131. Compare also with ᶜAbd al-Karīm, Shadwu, 1:105. 45. Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba 120–121. This is commonly known as the raid of ᶜAbduallāh ibn Jaḥsh, which took place 14 months after thehijra, according to Ibn ᶜUqba. See Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:14–16; Kalāᶜī 2:10. Haykal, Ḥayāt, 261. For more on Ibn Jaḥsh, see Iṣfahānī, Ḥilyat al-awliyā’, 1:108–109; Ibn Ḥabīb, Muḥabbar, 87–88; Ziriklī, Aᶜlām, 4:76. 46. Al-Wāqidī points out that some Muslims in this incident insisted on fighting although they knew it was a sacred month, as they desired ᶜarḍ al-dunyā (the worldly things); others did not want to violate its sanctity. After disagreement, those who wanted the things of this life (booty) won the dispute and encouraged all the Muslim warriors to fight. See Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:14, and Ibn Hishām 2:705. Al-Kalāᶜī observes that the Muslims were hesitant, but that they encouraged each other, and then fought and gained all the possessions they could take. See Kalāᶜī 2:10. 47. Ṭabarī 3:1275; Ibn Hishām 2:705–707. See Ibn Saᶜd 2:9–10. 48. Ibn Hishām 2:707. 49. See Ibn Hishām 2:709–710, where he indicates that Allah reveals Qur’ānic verses to support the desire of the Believers. See also Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:18 and Kalāᶜī 2:11. Yūsuf ᶜAlī renders this verse, “They ask thee concerning fighting in the Prohibited Month. Say: ‘Fighting therein is a grave (offence); but graver is it in the sight of God to prevent access to the path of God, to deny Him, to prevent access to the Sacred Mosque, and drive out its members.’” The verse seems to justify the violation of the sacred month as the deeds of the non-Muslims are graver in the sight of Allah. 50. Mujāhid 232. 51. Ibn Hishām 2:712. Qimany points out that Muhammad’s followers violated the sacred month by shedding blood, stealing money, and taking captives. Qimany, Ḥizb, 153. See ᶜAbd al-Raḥmān, Judhūr al-quwwa, 93, and p. 109 on gaining resources. 52. Abū al-Ḥasan ᶜAlī al-Wāḥidī, Asbāb nuzūl al-Qur’ān, 69–70. Al-Wāḥidī is an authority among Muslims on Asbāb al-nuzūl, as he is believedto be the earliest Muslim scholar in this field. For more on Asbāb al-nuzūl, see Rippin, “The Exegetical Genre ‘Asbāb al-Nuzūl’,” 1–15; idem, “The Function of ‘Asbāb Al-Nuzūl’,” 1–20. See also Ṭabarī 3:1285, as he indicates that this incident initiated all the fight. 53. Riḍā, Tafsīr al-manār, 2:311–312, where Riḍā defends Islam against harsh nonMuslim allegations. On Riḍā’s apologetic approach, see Wood, Christian Criticisms, Islamic Proofs, ch. 2.

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54. Jalāl al-Suyūṭī (d. 911/1505) asserts that the Muslims sent in this raid were not aware it was the sacred month of Rajab. See al-Suyūṭī, Asbāb, 41. The contemporary British writer Karen Armstrong (1944–), in an interesting argument, offers some excuses for the violation of the sacred month. She reads into the Muslims texts, arguing for some thoughts that were taking place in Muhammad’s mind: “Muhammad probably had few scruples about this: these holy months were part of a pagan system that he was trying to overcome. To violate them was on a par with denigrating the goddesses.” Armstrong, Muhammad, 170, which is in her chapter on the Holy War. 55. Watt, “Islamic Conceptions of the Holy War,” 146. 56. Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba 122–124; Abū Zurᶜa, Ta’rīkh, 162–167; Yaᶜqūbī 2:45. See also Ibn Hishām 2:714; Guillaume 289; Kalāᶜī 2:14. Al-Ṭabarī writes that the Quraysh had amwālahum wa tijāratahum (their possessions and merchandise) (3:1285). Regarding the importance of trade routes, Donner argues that “Mecca was unable to produce the basic foodstuffs required to support its growing population on the eve of Islam. The city relied on the outside world not only for the transit trade which gave rise to its prosperity , but also for the staples needed to sustain life itself. It was a prosperity as precarious as it was brilliant.” Donner, “Mecca’s Food Supplies,” 263–265. Kharkūshī suggests that Abū Sufyān had 90 people in his caravan and that Muhammad had 370 warriors. Kharkūshī, Sharaf al-muṣṭafā, 3:11. 57. Ibn Hishām 2:715; Ṭabarī 3:1285, 1292. See also Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba 122; Ibn Qutayba, al-Maᶜārif, 152–158; Kalāᶜī 2:14. Guillaume 289, where he inaccurately uses the word “prey” to render anfāl. According to al-Masᶜūdī, Kitāb al-Tanbīh wa-l-ishrāf, 203, the possessions of this caravan was the sabab (reason) for launching this raid. 58. Ibn Hishām 2:715 and Kalāᶜī 2:14. They were reluctant probably because they knew that the fight was supposed to be against their relatives and fellow Meccan tribesmen. See also Dhahabī, Ta’rīkh al-Islām, 2:50ff. 59. Ṭabarī 3:1285. Ibn Qutayba al-Dīnawarī (d. 276/828) indicates the pagan “polytheists” in this battle were 950, while Muslims a little over 300. See his al-Maᶜārif, 152. See also Ṭabarī 3:1304. Masᶜūdī, Tanbīh, 203–205. 60. Yaᶜqūbī 2:45; Ṭabarī 3:1285. Regarding sending for help, see Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba 123; Ibn Hishām 2:715; Kalāᶜī 2:14; as for changing his route to avoid Muhammad, see Ibn Hishām 2:732. 61. Ibn Hishām 2:732. Ibn Ḥibbān, al-Sīra, 1:157ff. 62. Ibn Hishām 2:731; see also Ṭabarī 3:1305. 63. Ṭabarī 3:1285, Ibn Hishām 2:715. Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba 123 and Kalāᶜī 2:14. 64. Ibn Hishām 2:731. 65. Kalāᶜī 2:14. See Qimany, Ḥurūb, 1:74–78, especially 74, where he points out that the Muslims had to kill and fight some of their non-Muslim relatives of the Quraysh army, and that brought guilt and bitter feelings among some of the Believers, but their loyalty to the Prophet appeared to be unmatched. 66. A traditional Muslim rationale for initiating this battle against the Meccans is offered by al-Mubārakpūrī, who points out that the Muslims wanted to place pressures upon the Meccans by raiding and interrupting their caravans so that: 1) the Meccans may wake up and fear for their trade, money, and souls, 2) they may also realize that they must create peace with the Muslims, giving them the freedom to spread Islam and applying it, which was all what Muslims hoped for, and 3) if the Meccan pagans did not get the message, the only choice left for the Muslims was al-ḥarb wa-l-qitāl (war and fighting). See Mubārakpūrī, Rawḍat, 97.

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6 7. Yaᶜqūbī 2:45; Ṭabarī 3:1285; Ibn Hishām 2:715, 732. 68. Abū al-Qāsim al-Suhaylī (d. 581/1185), al-Rawḍ al-unuf fī sharḥ al-sīra, 3:54 (hereafter Suhaylī 3:54). Al-Suhaylī is a Muslim grammarian and faqīh (jurist), who is well known for his commentary on the Ibn Hishām’s sīra. On al-Suhaylī, see Ziriklī, Aᶜlām, 3:313–314; Kaḥḥāla, Muᶜjam, 2:283–284. 69. Abū al-Fidā’ ibn Kathīr (d. 774/1373), al-Bidāya wa-l-nihāya, 484 (hereafter Ibn Kathīr 484). On ᶜAtaba ibn Rabīᶜa, see Ziriklī, Aᶜlām, 4:200. On Ibn Kathīr, see Ziriklī, Aᶜlām, 1:320–321; Kaḥḥāla, Muᶜjam, 5:147. According to Ibn Kathīr, Muhammad accepted the advice given to him by Ḥakīm ibn Ḥizām, a wise Meccan man. 70. See Ibn Kathīr 305, where he lists the virtues of ᶜAtaba and others in a section titled Kitāb akhbār al-ᶜArab (the Chronicles of the Arabs). 71. Suhaylī 3:60. 72. Ibn Hishām 2:740; Bayhaqī 3:63. See also the same according to Ṭabarī 3:1290. According to Ibn Kathīr, ᶜAtaba was more than 100 years old at that time, in addition to being one of the wealthiest Meccans, which reflects the importance of his opinion regarding avoiding war. Ibn Kathīr 305. 73. Ibn Hishām 2:740; Suhaylī 5:80; see also Ṭabarī 3:1315. There were some people among the Quraysh who desired war against the Muslims. Unlike ᶜAtaba, ᶜAmr ibn Hishām was, according to tradition, one of the main hostile opponents of Muhammad. Muslim authors call him Abū Jahl (father of ignorance), identifying him as the enemy of Allah. In an attempt to protect the tribal dignity and tribalism of Mecca, ᶜAmr ibn Hishām rejected the advice of ᶜAtaba to avoid the war and insulted him, insisting on going to war against Muhammad. See Ibn Kathīr 484. 74. See Ṭabarī 3:1317–1318, and compare with Bayhaqī 3:63. Al-Ṭabarī writes that Allah killed ᶜAtaba ibn Rabiᶜa (3:1290), which probably means that Allah used the Muslims to kill the man. According to tradition, it was obvious that the Muslims did not keep the fencing rules, as they helped each other against ᶜAtaba. See Ibn Hishām 2:741–743; Ibn Kathīr 485. ᶜAbd al-Raḥmān, Judhūr, 99. 75. Bayhaqī 3:62. 76. It is interesting that while al-Mubārakpūrī affirms that the battles were for the “Muslims to gain freedom to live peacefully and spread Islam without restrictions,” (Rawḍat al-anwār, 97), he still insists that the Battle of Badr was a golden opportunity for the Medinan ᶜaskar (army), as it was a huge hit against the pagan polytheists “militarily, politically, and economically.” Mubārakpūrī, al-Raḥīq, 204. While he insists that the Muslims were defending themselves, he does not deny that it was a great opportunity. 77. Ibn Hishām 2:259–263. See Ṭabarī 3:1328; Suhaylī 5:86; Bayhaqī 3:61, 78. See Ibn Saᶜd 2:14–15, where he mentions 3,000 angels surrounding Muhammad, accompanied by 3 archangels. ᶜAbd al-Jabbār, Tathbīt, 2:403ff. 78. Ibn Kathīr, Tafsīr, 2:98 (related to his commentary on Q 3:124–129). Interestingly, al-Suyūṭī provides different reports regarding the color of the turbans: they were black (or white) at Badr, and red at Uḥud (although traditions do not generally indicate the appearance of angels at Uḥud). See al-Suyūṭī, al-Durr al-manthūr, 2:309. 79. Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba 132; Bayhaqī 3:79; note that in 3:55 the number of the angels is different. Al-Ṭabarī addresses it in 3:1328, “angels fought only in Badr.” This is also affirmed by

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81.

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al-Suyūṭī, Durr, 2:309. See Kharkūshī, Sharaf al-muṣṭafā, 3:12, where he claims there were 5,000 angels. ᶜAbd al-Jabbār, Tathbīt, 2:404, mentions 1,000 angels. Ibn Hishām 2:752, and Ṭabarī 3:1322. For a ṣūfī perspective on Muhammad’s miracles, see al-Ghazālī (d. 505/1111), Iḥyā’ ᶜulūm al-dīn, 3:560. On the mythical and exaggerated elements in Islamic accounts, see the brilliant argument of the Muslim author ᶜAbd al-Raḥmān, Judhūr al-quwwa, 7–9; idem, al-Tārīkh wa-l-usṭūra. Ibn Hishām 2:752. See also Bayhaqī 3:79–80, and compare with Ṭabarī 3:1322. The Ṣūfī Muslim author Hādī al-ᶜAlawī, in his discussion of the miracles and paranormal events in Islamic historiography, argues that some early informants used to interpolate exaggerated reports (which were later deployed by the Muslim writers) in an attempt to benefit the tenets and secure Islamic doctrine. See Hādī al-ᶜAlawī, Maḥaṭṭāt fī al-tārīkh wa-l-turāth, 19–20. On how some informants used to fabricate reports, attributing them to previous generations, see Yāqūt al-Ḥamawī (d. 626/1229), Muᶜjam al-udabā’, 3:1201–1204; Ibn al-Muᶜtazz, Ṭabaqāt al-shuᶜarā’, 69, where they discuss the case of the liar poet Ḥammād; see also Ibn Sallām al-Jumaḥī, Ṭabaqāt fuḥūl al-shuᶜarā’, 1:48. See also the Muslim author Abū Rayya, Aḍwā’ ᶜalā al-sunna al-Muḥammadiyya, 85–92, precisely on inventing reports and sayings, attributing them to the Prophet. See also Faizer, “Ibn Isḥāq,” where he treats sīra-maghāzī as “hagiographic” literature, rather than historiography. On inventing traditions about Muhammad, see Jonathan Brown, Misquoting Muhammad, 216–222; and idem, “Did the Prophet Say It or Not?,” 259–285. Ibn Hishām 2:764–767; Ṭabarī 3:1329–1331; Bayhaqī 3:89–90. There appears to be an increase in the supernatural tales about Badr over time. Creating a “memory” is a complex process. Memory is an essential part of any process of cultural and social change and interaction. In studying conversion to Islam in post-conquest Iran in the ninth to eleventh centuries C.E., Sarah Savant studies the role of memory and the way it is revised or even erased. She writes, “As a tradition accumulates weight and authority, it shapes collective agreements about the past, thereby creating memories.” Savant, New Muslims, 4. See Jan Assmann, Cultural Memory, 5, as he examines the relationship between memory and its textual form. He views representing memory in a text as one aspect of “the handing down of meaning” within its broader context of “cultural memory.” For him, “The past is not simply ‘received’ by the present. The present is ‘haunted’ by the past and the past is modeled, invented, reinvented, and reconstructed by the present.” Assmann, Moses, 9. Ṭabarī 3:1291; see also Bayhaqī 3:69–70. Similarly, after the battle, the Prophet spoke to the dead men of Quraysh, saying “you fought me, and naṣaranī al-nās (the people made me victorious),” (Ṭabarī 3:1332) while on another occasion he stated, qatal Allāh taᶜālā man qatal min ṣanādīd Quraysh (Allah murdered so and so of Quraysh’s brave men). See Ibn Hishām 2:752. Bayhaqī 3:79–80, and compare with Ṭabarī 3:1322, where Allah helped Muhammad, while in 3:1332 men did. Arguably, one could say Allah helped Muhammad through his people. Ṭabarī 3:1301, see also 1302. Ṭabarī 3:1333. Ṭabarī 3:1310, 1318. Yaᶜqūbī 2:48 places Muhammad at the rear of the Muslim army. Ṭabarī 3:1322. Abū Bakr was with him all the time in the shelter, according to al-Ṭabarī 3:1318. Haykal argues that this shelter was a sign of how Muslims loved their leader and

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wanted to protect him. Haykal, Ḥayāt Muḥammad, 275. In another report, Saᶜd ibn Muᶜādh is the one who suggested building the ᶜarīsh. Ṭabarī 3:1310. 89. See Savant, New Muslims, 4. Donner focuses on the first century of Islam, and rejects the so-called collective memory. He argues that until late in the first century of Islam, the Believers did not develop a collective memory. Donner, Narratives, 138–139. 90. Ṭabarī 3:1303. 91. Ṭabarī 3:1662. Tirmidhī, al-Shamā’il al-Muḥammadiyya, 147. Of course, this may relate to the ḥadīth “war is deceit,” as reported by the Prophet: Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī Vol. 4, Book 52, Number 267, 268, 269. http://www.sahih-bukhari.com/ (accessed on May 23, 2016). See also Zuhrī 106. 92. Assmann points to the existence of cultural memory—an “alliance between power and forgetting.” Assmann, Cultural Memory and Early Civilization, 55. See also Hoyland, God’s Path, 42. See also the arguments on “salvation history,” by Wansbrough, Qur’ānic Studies, 43, and the comments of Rippin, “Literary analysis,” inApproaches to Islam, ed. Martin, 154. 93. Ṭabarī 3:1308. See ᶜAbd al-Raḥmān, Judhūr al-quwwa, 89–99, where he argues for natural, as opposed to supernatural, factors for the victory. 94. Ibn Kathīr 305, and 500. According to Ibn Kathīr, ᶜAtaba was more than 100 years old at that time. See ᶜAbd al-Raḥmān, Judhūr al-quwwa, 99. 95. Ṭabarī 3:1308. See also Ibn Saᶜd 2:14. 96. Ṭabarī 3:1309. 97. Ṭabarī 3:1309. Ḥubāb ibn al-Mundhir ibn al-Jamūḥ was a brilliant Muslim who spoke to Muhammad about contaminating all the water wells except one, so that the Muslims could drink while the Meccans could not. This exhausted the Meccans. Ṭabarī 3:1309. On Ḥubāb and his strategic advice, see ᶜAbd al-Raḥmān, Judhūr, 97. 98. Bayhaqī 3:55. 99. For more on the brutal treatment against the notables of the Quraysh, see Ṭabarī 3:1302. See Watt, “Islamic Conceptions of the Holy War,” 147. 100. Yaᶜqūbī 2:45, where he states that Muhammad ordered the beheading of the two notable Qurayshite leaders: ᶜUqba ibn Abī Muᶜayṭ and al-Naḍr ibn al-Ḥārith. 101. Ṭabarī 3:1323. 102. Ṭabarī 3:1323. 103. Ṭabarī 3:1323. 104. Ṭabarī 3:1302. On the common tribal raids in the 620s, see Hoyland, God’s Path, 56ff. 105. Ṭabarī 3:1302; see also Ibn Hishām 2:731. There are some verses in the Qur’ān, according to various exegetes, that seem to legitimize the revenge of Muslims who were expelled from Mecca, such as Q 8:12 and Q 47:4. 106. Ṭabarī 3:1331. For a modern Muslim view of the event, see Haykal, Ḥayāt Muḥammad, 280. 107. See the quote and explanation in Qimany, Ḥizb, 121. 108. Ṭabarī 3:1333. See also Kharkūshī, Sharaf al-muṣṭafā, 3:17. 109. Ṭabarī 3:1334, where the editor de Goeje asserts that it could be aḥlāfunā (our alliances) not akhlāqunā (our ethical manners). See also Ibn Hishām 2:43; Kharkūshī, Sharaf, 3:18; ᶜAbd al-Raḥmān, Judhūr, 115. 110. Ibn Hishām 2:43. It is interesting that al-Mubārakpūrī does not engage in interpreting the reason for this dispute, although he shows the warriors in a virtuous way , for the most

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part. See Mubārakpūrī, al-Raḥīq al-makhtūm, 227–228. See also Hoyland, God’s Path, 42, where he comments on the depiction of the Muslim warriors. See also Sizgorich, Violence and Belief in Late Antiquity, ch. 5. 111. See ᶜAbd al-Karīm, Shadwu, 1:81, 99. ᶜAbd al-Karīm writes that Muhammad met the needs of his warriors “by giving them their desired feeling of overcoming, hegemony, and oppressing the enemies through plundering their possessions and taking their women” (99). 112. Ibn Hishām 2:1017; Kalāᶜī 2:77. 113. Ibn Hishām 2:1020; Kalāᶜī 2:77–78. Note that al-Wāqidī did not mention this one. 114. Ṭabarī 3:1359–1367; Ibn Hishām 2:1020–1036; Kalāᶜī 2:77–79. It is noteworthy that the sequence of the battles is not the same in these sources. For instance, al-Ṭabarī begins with Qaynuqāᶜ followed by ghazwat al-Sawīq, while al-Kalāᶜī uses an opposite order in addition to placing Dhī Amr between the two raids. Concerning the challenges in the chronology of Muhammad’s sīra, see the conclusions of Jones, “The Chronology of the ‘Mag̱ hāzī’,” 279–280. See also Lammens, “The Age of Muhammad,” in Ibn Warraq, ed., The Quest, 188–206, especially p. 199 on the tendentiousness of some historical reports and their dates. For dating events in the early Arabic literary tradition, particularly in the sīra, see Conrad, “Abraha and Muḥammad,” 225–40. See Donner, Narratives, 5–7. 115. Ṭabarī 3:1383–1384; Ibn Hishām 3:1075; Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:199–200. For the desire of the Meccans to revenge and strike back at Muhammad, see Kalāᶜī 2:87 and Haykal, Ḥayāt Muḥammad, 298–299. 116. Ibn Hishām 3:1090. Ibn Qutayba, al-Maᶜārif, 158–161. Kharkūshī, Sharaf al-muṣṭafā, 3:20ff. 117. Yaᶜqūbī 2:49; Kalāᶜī 2:89; Ibn Hishām 3:1085; Suhaylī 5:302. While those who left Muhammad were devout Muslims, they were labeled munāfiqūn (hypocrites, or lukewarm believers), as they did not want to commit suicide by going to Uḥud, expecting a severe defeat. Al-Bayhaqī calls ibn Ubayy in this very incident the hypocrite (3:226). See Qimany, Ḥurūb, 1:137. Muhammad said that he was not going to ask the support of his alliances with the Jews in this battle. See Ibn Hishām 3:1086, which indicates how uncertain he was, as he did not truly trust who was loyal to him in Medina after his victory over the Meccans at Badr. 118. Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:203; Ibn Hishām 3:1092. 119. Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:220; Ibn Hishām 3:1092; Kalāᶜī 2:91. 120. Ṭabarī 3:1385–1386, and 1400; Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:206; Kalāᶜī 2:87. 121. Yaᶜqūbī 2:47; Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:209; Ibn Hishām 3:1082; Bayhaqī 3:163; Kalāᶜī 2:88. Muhammad “hated” to go to this war, but some companions insisted. See Waqidī 1:213, where he demonstrates how Muhammad was reluctant and eventually gave in to the desire of some Muslims. 122. Ṭabarī 3:1355. Ibn Qutayba, al-Maᶜārif, 160. Al-Bayhaqī provides different numbers. See Bayhaqī 3:218–219. Al-Ṭabarī writes of the Muslims being punished because of what they did in Badr. The verb ᶜūqibū (were being punished) is passive, and the subject of the verb is unknown. Allah could be the subject, or the Meccans. For an interesting traditional comparison between Badr and Uḥud, see Abū Isḥāq al-Fazārī (d. after 185/802), Kitāb al-siyar, regarding Badr (265, 269, 294–295) and Uḥud (190, 191, 300, 306).

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123. This is only if we accept the traditional claim that this specific sūra was proclaimed regarding Uḥud, which is merely supported by various Muslim mufassirūn. One of the major challenges with the text of the Qur’ān is that it does not provide logical transitions between its topics. Hawting, The Idea of Idolatry, 48. See Goldziher, Introduction to Islamic Theology, 28–30, especially 30, where he writes regarding the words of the Qur’ān: “they would not be in harmony with what precedes and follow them.” Gerhard Böwering demonstrates that the Qur’ān shows an atomistic fragmentary concept of time—it lacks any specific divisions as to past, present, and future, and does not provide historical accounts. Rather, it makes brief references to events, persons, and conflicts without providing enough details or explanations. Böwering, “Chronology” in EQ, 1:316–318. 124. Yaᶜqūbī 2:48. 125. The Arabic verb used here is ḥasam, meaning to rip off a plant, according to the editor of Ibn Hishām 3:1115; see also Kalāᶜī 2:96 and Bayhaqī 3:227. 126. Ṭabarī 3:1400; Ibn Hishām states wa kānat al-hazīma lā shakka fīhā (the defeat was without a doubt) (3:1115). 127. Kalāᶜī 2:91–93, and 96; Bayhaqī 3:309. 128. Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:224–225; Ibn Qutayba, al-Maᶜārif, 159; Bayhaqī 3:227. 129. Kalāᶜī 2:96; Ibn Hishām 3:1119; Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:229. For the salb (snatching and looting) among the warriors, see Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:227; Ibn Sallām, al-amwāl, 403– 408; see also ᶜAbd al-Karīm, Shadwu, 1:77, 105. 130. Ibn Hishām 3:1119–1122; Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1: 230; Ṭabarī 3:1402–1403, and 3:1409. 131. Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:209; Ibn Hishām 3:1082; Bayhaqī 3:163; Kalāᶜī 2:88. 132. The “slaughter” term is used by al-Yaᶜqūbī 2:47. See also Ṭabarī 3:1387; Ibn Hishām 3:1082, and 1084. On the hesitancy of the Prophet, see ᶜAbd al-Raḥmān, Judhūr al-quwwa, 121. 133. Haykal, Ḥayāt Muḥammad, 305. 134. Ibn Hishām 3: 1084; see Ṭabarī 3:1387. Ibn Shabba, Ta’rīkh al-Madīna, 349ff. 135. Suhaylī 5:302; see also Ṭabarī 3:1390. 136. Ṭabarī 3:1388. 137. Regarding the vision and Muhammad’s response to it, see Yaᶜqūbī 2:47; Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:209; Ibn Hishām 3:1082; Bayhaqī 3:163; Kalāᶜī 2:88. 138. Yaᶜqūbī 2:48; Ibn Hishām 3:1084; see also Suhaylī 5:302. Ibn Saᶜd 2:35. On Muhammad’s sword and shield, see Aṣbahānī, Akhlāq al-nabī, 2:395–401 (shield) and 2:375–394 (sword). 139. Yaᶜqūbī 2:48; Ṭabarī 3:1390; Bayhaqī 3:226. Kharkūshī, Sharaf al-muṣṭafā, 3:21. 140. Ibn Hishām 3:1084, and Ṭabarī 3:1390. Kharkūshī, Sharaf al-muṣṭafā, 3:21. 141. Ibn Hishām observes that Muhammad was protected in the battle by two shields (Ibn Hishām 3:1090), and at least three warriors in the middle of the battle (Alī, Ṭalḥa, and Mālik). Ibn Hishām 3:1121. Kharkūshī, Sharaf, 3:22. On protecting Muhammad by his soldiers, see ᶜUmar ibn Shabba (d. 262/875), Ta’rīkh al-Madīna, 299–304. 142. See ᶜAbd al-Jabbār, Tathbīt, 2:406ff, where he rejects this argument. The Believers were clearly shocked and caught off balance. Even after Uḥud was over, and the Believers defeated, there was an obvious uncertainty about whether the Meccans were marching to Mecca (heading home) or Medina (to invade his lands), consequently, spies were sent to find out. Ṭabarī 3:1419.

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143. Even the renowned modern Egyptian Muslim historian Haykal adopts a similar notion regarding the defeat with no clear critical assessment. Haykal, Ḥayāt Muḥammad, 308. See also the traditional apologetic approach of Mubārakpūrī, Rawḍat al-anwār, 112. Compare with Ibn Saᶜd 2:39. 144. Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:321. That is only if we assume that this verse is related to Uḥud. See the following three commentators on this verse, as each of them relates it to Uḥud: Muqātil 1:193; Qurṭubī 4:218; Riḍā 4:148. 145. Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:320; interestingly , comparing sūrat Āl ᶜImrān 124 and 125, al-Wāqidī points out that Allah revealed prior to Uḥud that he was going to send 3,000 angels, which then increased to 5,000, but because Muslims did not persevere patiently Allah never sent any angels. See Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:320. See ᶜAbd al-Jabbār, Tathbīt, 2:420. 146. Yaᶜqūbī 2:49. If we, hypothetically, accept that parts of sūra 3 in the Qur’ān relate to Uḥud, according to Muslim exegetes (Muqātil 1:193; Qurṭubī 4:218; Riḍā 4:148), then there are verses that may provide “religious” reasons for the defeat of the Muslims: 1) Muslims needed to repent, and upon their repentance Allah would provide another victory , as the sin of the Muslims would bring defeat (Q 3:152–153), 2) Muslims abandoned the Prophet (Q 3:164), and 3) the Devil was in the battle (Q 3:155). None of the reasons provided by the Qur’ān concerns the bad tactics or wrong decisions made by the Muslims. The Qur’ān presumably reflects solely on the religious aspect of the defeat, linking it with the disobedience of the Muslims to Allah and his apostle. 147. Ibn Hishām 3:1084; see Ṭabarī 3:1387. 148. Yaᶜqūbī 2:47; Ṭabarī 3:1383–1385. 149. See Qimany, Ḥurūb, 1:137. 150. Ṭabarī 3:1409. Haykal, Ḥayāt Muḥammad, 309–310. Sharīf, Makka wa-l-Madīna, 467. 151. See Yaᶜqūbī 2:47, where he writes of Uḥud that “the Quraysh gathered and got prepared li-ṭalab tha’ruhā (to seek revenge).” 152. ᶜAbd al-Karīm points out that al-ṣaḥāba (the companions) were concerned with al-ghanīma (the spoils of war), always seeking after it. He provides two examples: the Battle of Badr and the raid to Banū al-Naḍīr. ᶜAbd al-Karīm, Shadwu, 1:85. On this incident, see the traditional interpretation as stated by Haykal, Ḥayāt Muḥammad, 281. 153. The raid of Banū Qaynuqāᶜ took place in (2/624), after Badr and before Uḥud. See Ibn Saᶜd 2:26–27. 154. Kalāᶜī 2:79; Ibn Hishām 2:1029; Ṭabarī 3:1390. 155. Ibn Hishām 2:1032; Kalāᶜī 2:79; Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:176. Haykal, Ḥayāt, 291. Sharīf, Makka, 506. 156. Ṭabarī 3:1390; Ibn Hishām 2:1035; Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:177. 157. See Qimany, Ḥurūb, 1:120, where he completely rejects this story and dismisses it as fabricated. On inventing later reports, see Robinson, Historiography, 12, where he writes, “The answers were given [by Muslim historians] because belief now required them.” See also Kennedy, The Prophet, 348, 355; Rosenthal, Historiography, 29, 84, 166. 158. Ṭabarī 3:1390. 159. Ṭabarī 3:1390. Al-Ṭabarī points out that Muhammad initially desired to kill them, but ᶜAbdullāh ibn Ubayy, a chief of al-Khazraj clan (who also gave Muhammad wise advice regarding Uḥud) pleaded for them. According to al-Ṭabarī, Banū Qaynuqāᶜ were ḥulafā’

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(in alliance) with al-Khazraj, and that was the reason that ᶜAbdullāh ibn Ubayy pleaded, yā Muḥammad aḥsin fī muwāliyya (O Muhammad, have mercy on my alliances). Ṭabarī 3:1391; Ibn Hishām 2:1032–1033. On fabricating historical reports, see Hādī al-ᶜAlawī, Maḥaṭṭāt fī al-tārīkh wa-l-turāth, 19–20. 160. Ṭabarī 3:1390; Qimnay, Ḥurūb, 1:120 also mentions this quote. 161. See Ṭabarī 3:122. 162. The same rings true with the incident of the killing of Kaᶜb ibn al-Ashraf. For the story of this Jew, see Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:84–92; Ibn Hishām 2:1041–1053, especially 2:1047– 1052. On this topic, see Rubin, “The Assassination of Kaᶜb B. Al-Ashraf,” 65–71; Kister, “The Market of the Prophet,” 272–276, where he argues for economical conflict between Muhammad and Kaᶜb, concluding that, “The clash with Kaᶜb b. al-Ashraf seems to indicate that Kaᶜb considered the establishment of the new market [by Muhammad] as competition to the existing one of the Banū Qaynuqāᶜ.” 163. Guillaume 390. See also Ṭabarī 3:1428; Ibn Hishām 3:1185–1189; Ibn Saᶜd 2:45; Kalāᶜī 2:112; Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:334. In Ḥamrā’ al-Asad, the leader achieved nothing—it was merely an attempt to show he still had power after Uḥud’s defeat. The report about this raid is hard to believe, as Muhammad was severely injured and almost died one day earlier. Ṭabarī 3:1409. 164. See for instance Ṭabarī 3:1431–1432 and 3:1441. 165. Ibn Hishām 3:1329; Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:395; Guillaume 445. 166. Ibn Hishām 3:1338ff; Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:384; Kalāᶜī 2:155; Guillaume 447. Kharkūshī, Sharaf, 3:40. It is noteworthy that Muhammad encountered the Quraysh three times at Badr. This is the last of the three. 167. Ibn Hishām 3:1348–1376; Kalāᶜī 2:158–160. 168. Ibn Hishām 3:1445–1446; Dhahabī, Ta’rīkh al-Islām, 2:341ff. See Haykal, Ḥayāt Muḥammad, 289–290. 169. See a good summary in Guillaume 482. See Guillaume: regarding Sallām p. 675, regarding Abū ᶜAfak and ᶜAṣmā’ and the entire list see pp. 664–666. See also al-Bayhaqī stating that the killing of Sallām was one of the pieces of evidence for the prophethood of Muhammad 1:57, 4:33. See also another list at Qimany, Ḥurūb, 2:28. 170. Ṭabarī 3:1448. 171. Ibn Hishām 3:1377–1419; Kalāᶜī 2:176. This raid will be examined below. 172. Ibn Hishām 3:1498–1514; Kalāᶜī 2:233–238. 173. Ibn Hishām 3:1543–1563; Kalāᶜī 2:251; the war-cry of the Muslims at the battle of Khaybar was “O victorious one, slay, slay” (Guillaume 770). This reflects how the Muslims were growing in power. For an early report of this war-cry, see Aṣbahānī, Akhlāq al-nabī, 2:485, 487. 174. Ibn Hishām 3:1593; Guillaume 515, 523. 175. Ibn Hishām 3:1612–1620. The word al-qaḍā’ is vague. It may refer to atonement, fulfilment, judgment against the Meccans, or negotiating concerning fulfilling the pilgrimage. Tirmidhī, al-Shamā’il al-Muḥammadiyya, 147; Suhaylī 7:157; Khalīfa, Ta’rīkh, 1:86. 176. Kalāᶜī 2:272. He calls it ghazwat al-amn (the raid of security). Muhammad performed the rituals of pre-Islamic jāhiliyya: kissing the stone, going out trotting, kissing the southern corner and the black stone, and so forth. Guillaume 530. For the ritual and social continuity before

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and after Islam, see ᶜAbd al-Karīm, Mujtamaᶜ Yathrib, 21, as he suggests the Arabs did not change socially and ritually after Muhammad illā binisba ḍa’īla (except just a little) (27). 177. Ṭabarī 3:1418. 178. The account of Abū Sufyān’s conversion to Islam is most likely propaganda by the ᶜAbbāsid writers to portray the Umayyads negatively; however, my point is that the account itself does not support the traditional Muslim argument that the raids were for self-defense and religious proclamation. Sellheim, “Prophet,” 33–91. For a less anti-Umayyad account, see Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba 269–273. 179. Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba 269; Kalāᶜī 2:297; Ibn Hishām 4:1648. 180. Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba 271; Kalāᶜī 2:306; Ibn Hishām 4:1672, 1680. Regarding the idols and statues destroyed in this incident, see Ibn al-Kalbī (d. ca. 204/819), Kitāb al-aṣnām, 22. 181. Ṭabarī 3:1448. See also Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba 210. Ibn Saᶜd 2:53–54. 182. Ṭabarī 3:1359. Ibn Ḥibbān, al-Sīra, 1:234ff. 183. Zuhrī 113; Yaᶜqūbī 2:49; Ṭabarī 3:1368–1373, especially 3:1372. After the killing of Kaᶜb, Muhammad instructed his followers: man ẓafartum bi-h min rijāl yahūd fa-qtulūh (kill anyone you catch from the Jews). Ṭabarī 3:1372; compare with Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:84– 92; see also Ibn Hishām 2:1041–1053, especially 2:1047–1052. See Ibn Saᶜd 2:28–31; ᶜUmar ibn Shabba, Ta’rīkh al-Madīna, 454ff. See also Dhahabī, Ta’rīkh al-Islām, 2:157ff. 184. Ṭabarī 3:1375. 185. The contemporary Muslim scholar al-Qimany explains such a threat in detail. Qimany, Ḥurūb, 2:243. 186. Ibn Hishām 3:1308; they had jiwār wa ᶜahd (neighboring covenant). See Ṭabarī 3:1448. 187. Ṭabarī 3:1448. 188. Ṭabarī 3:1449. 189. Ṭabarī 3:1449; Ibn Hishām 3:1308. See ᶜAbd al-Jabbār, Tathbīt, 2:489ff. 190. Ṭabarī 3:1449; Ibn Hishām 3:1310. 191. Yaᶜqūbī 2:50. On dividing their lands and possessions, see Ibn Shabba, Ta’rīkh al-Madīna, 488ff. 192. Yaᶜqūbī 2:49–50; Ṭabarī 3:1368. See also Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba 180. 193. Ṭabarī 3:1450. Muhammad calls them “his” lands, although they were their lands, as affirmed by Ṭabarī 3:1448. 194. Ṭabarī 3:1450. 195. Bayhaqī, 3:179. 196. Ṭabarī 3:1448. 197. See Qimany, Ḥurūb, 2:229. Muhammad after the defeat of Uḥud raided the Dhāt al-Ruqāᶜ expedition, right after al-Naḍīr (Ṭabarī 3:1454). This raid failed, as the non-Muslims were ready for the fight to the extent that the Prophet prayed ṣalāt al-khawf (the fear prayer) and withdrew without fighting. This, too, cannot be viewed as a self-defense battle. The Believers initiated this raid to advance dominion and with no apparent “religious” motive. See Ṭabarī 3:1454, and the explanation of Qimany, Ḥurūb, 2:238. 198. Ṭabarī 3:1450. 199. Compare Ṭabarī 3:1448 and 3:1450. See Yaᶜqūbī 2:50, stating that the spoils of war were totally given to Muhammad, who distributed them among the muhājirūn (Meccan emigrants) only.

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200. Yaᶜqūbī 2:50; Ṭabarī 3:1463; Ibn Qutayba, al-Maᶜārif, 161–166. Yaᶜqūbī states that it was in A.H. 6, while Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba writes that it was in A.H. 4 (p. 214). See Ibn Saᶜd 2:62–70. The prominent Tunisian Islamic scholar Hichem Djait views the victory at al-Khandaq as the second major successful victory to strengthen the Muslim community. Djait, al-Fitna, 26–28. This book is a translation of La grande discorde: religion et politique dans l’islam des origines. 201. Ṭabarī 3:1457–1458; Kalāᶜī 2:155; Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:384. See Guillaume 447. Ghazwat Badr al-mawᶜid was a shame for the Meccans and their leader Abū Sufyān, according to tradition. Muhammad went forth to Badr to keep his appointment with Abū Sufyān (Ṭabarī 3:1419), and stayed there for eight nights waiting for Abū Sufyān, who never showed up (Ṭabarī 3:1457 and Guillaume 447). The reason why Abū Sufyān marched toward Badr and then decided to return to Mecca (as found in the Muslim accounts) seems unconvincing, as it was related to drinkingal-sawīq (animal milk) (Ṭabarī 3:1458). Guillaume renders it: “He [Abū Sufyān] told the Quraysh that the only suitable year was a fertile year when they could pasture the animals on the herbage and drink their milk, whereas this was a dry year” (447). See also Dhahabī, Ta’rīkh al-Islām, 2:249ff. While the withdrawal of the Meccans meant a great victory for the Muslims, the story as reported in the tradition appears tendentious. It most likely never took place, but is documented to shame the Meccans. On Muhammad and al-sawīq, see Aṣbahānī, Akhlāq al-nabī, 3:316. 202. Yaᶜqūbī 2:50; Ibn Hishām 3:1348; Guillaume 451; Dhahabī, Ta’rīkh al-Islām, 2:283ff. Unlike Ibn Hishām and al-Ṭabarī, al-Yaᶜqūbī points out that the Quraysh initiated the unity with the Jews, not vice versa (2:50). 203. Ṭabarī 3:1463–1465; Kalāᶜī 2:159. 204. Ṭabarī 3:1465; Guillaume 764; Yaᶜqūbī 2:50. On Salmān, see Ibn Qutayba, al-Maᶜārif, 270–271. For an excellent study of how the Muslims developed a memory of Salmān and portrayed him differently over time, see Savant, The New Muslims, ch. 2. 205. Ṭabarī 3:1465–1466, though some “hypocrites” disobeyed, and did not dig. 206. See Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 2:445. See also Burhān al-Dīn al-Ḥalabī (d. 841/1438), Insān, 2:628. Al-Ḥalabī states, “and [the Muslims] borrowed from Qurayẓa plenty of tools.” See the same quote in Qimany, Ḥurūb, 2:247. 207. Ibn Hishām 3:1356; Kalāᶜī 2:162–163; Guillaume 452–453. Ibn Ḥibbān, al-Sīra, 1:254ff. 208. The Qur’ān indicates in various verses that Muhammad’s only “miracle” was the revealed Qur’ān. See Q 6:37; 11:12; 13:7; 17:59; 28:48; 29:50–51. Some Muslims, however, rely on post-Qur’ānic commentaries and suggest the he did actually perform physical miracles such as splitting the moon and the night journey, in addition to what the sīra and later traditions describe as the miracles at the trench. For a critical view of the “supernatural elements” in Muslim tradition, see the Muslim Moroccan historian Muḥammad ᶜĀbid al-Jābrī, Mawāqif, 49–50. On splitting the moon, see ᶜAbd al-Jabbār, Tathbīt dalā’il al-nubuwwa, 1:58. 209. See some similarities in the defeat of Dhāt al-Ruqāᶜ (4/626). Ibn Hishām 3:1329; Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 1:395; Guillaume 445. See also the comment of Qimany, Ḥurūb, 2:239. On interpolating exaggerated and mythical elements in Muslim accounts, see ᶜAbd al-Hādī ᶜAbd al-Raḥmān, al-Tārīkh wa-l-usṭūra; idem, Judhūr al-quwwa, 7ff; he also labels some reports as illogical (11–12). See also ᶜĀbid al-Jābrī, Mawāqif, 49–50; Brown, Misquoting, 216–222.

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210. The sīra reads, regarding the miraculous deeds of Muhammad while digging the trench, “there is an example of God’s justifying His apostle and confirming his prophetic office, things which the Muslims saw with their eyes.” Guillaume 451; Ibn Hishām 3:1351. 211. Ibn Hishām 3:1351; Guillaume 451. 212. Ibn Hishām 3:1352; Guillaume 452, where a little ewe fed the workers at the trench. 213. Ṭabarī 3:1468; Ibn Hishām 3:1354; Guillaume 452. 214. See Qimany, Ḥurūb, 2:253. On inventing accounts, in a report by Ibn Saᶜd, al-Zuhrī states that he was “forced” under the Umayyads to forge written reports. Ibn Saᶜd 2:334. See Gregor Schoeler, Écrire et transmettre, 55; translated as The Genesis of Literature in Islam. See also Abū Rayya, Aḍwā’ ᶜalā al-sunna, 85–92; ᶜAbd al-Raḥmān, Judhūr al-quwwa, 7–9; idem, al-Tārīkh wa-l-usṭūra. See the Ṣūfī work by al-ᶜAlawī, Maḥaṭṭāt fī al-tārīkh, 19–20. Al-ᶜAlawī’s main argument is that various political, sectarian, and social reasons led Muslims to forge historical accounts. Hoyland suggests that a number of texts were virtually “open.” Hoyland, Seeing, 35. See Mu’nis, Tanqiyat uṣūl al-tārīkh al-Islamī, 55ff; Brown, Misquoting Muhammad, 216–222. 215. Yaᶜqūbī 2:50; Ṭabarī 3:1475; Ibn Hishām 3:1364; Kalāᶜī 2:166; see also Suhaylī 6:210. These references show how the confederates were shocked by the trick of the trench. Salmān the Persian was celebrated as the reason for the victory: “It is said that Salmān the Persian advised the apostle to make it. A traditionist told me that on this day the Muhājirs claimed that Salmān belonged to them, while the Anṣār said that he was their man; but the apostle said, ‘Salman belongs to us, the people of the house’” (Guillaume 764). For Salmān, see Savant, The New Muslims, ch. 2. 216. Ibn Hishām 3:1084; Ṭabarī 3:1387. 217. It should be noted that Medina is an oasis; it has no walls in its earliest history. It had small forts, which were walled, but the oasis itself was not walled. The trench was a sufficient barrier for the Meccan horses, but not an actually defensible location, as was proved about 150 years later when Muḥammad al-Nafs al-Zakiyya tried to use it against the ᶜAbbāsid army, and it did not succeed. See Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, 813–814. On the geography of Medina, see Yaᶜqūbī, al-Buldān, 97–98, where he writes that Medina has two mountains, palm-trees, and water-wells. See also Ibn Khuradādhbih (d. ca. 280/893), al-Masālik, 128–132; al-Hamdānī (d. 333/945), Ṣifat jazīrat al-ᶜArab, 47–48; al-Iṣṭakhrī al-Balkhī (d. 346/957), al-Masālik wa-l-mamālik, 18ff; Ibn al-Faqīh (d. 365/975), Mukhtaṣar kitāb al-buldān, 23–24. Regarding the unprotected confederates, see Suhaylī 6:209. 218. Zuhrī 80; Guillaume 458; Ṭabarī 3:1480–1481; Ibn Hishām 3:1373; Ibn Ḥibbān, al-Sīra, 1:259; Kalāᶜī 2:172. This served as an important factor in dissolving the confederates. Regarding the disharmony between the confederates, see Ibn Hishām 3:1376; Suhaylī 6:220 and Kalāᶜī 2:173; Guillaume 459. 219. Zuhrī 79; Guillaume 545; Ibn Hishām 3:1361; Kalāᶜī 2:165; Suhaylī 6:208. 220. See Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 2:445; Ḥalabī 2:628. Qimany, Ḥurūb, 2:247. 221. Ṭabarī 3:1482; Ibn Ḥibbān, al-Sīra, 1:261. Banū Qurayẓa first demanded to gain several guarantees in order for them to support the confederates, and then later claimed that they could not go to war on a Saturday, which shows apparent hesitancy. Ibn Hishām 3: 1374– 1375; Kalāᶜī 2:173. 222. Ṭabarī 3:1483; Kalāᶜī 2:174. Regarding the mountains, see Yaᶜqūbī, al-Buldān, 97–98.

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223. Ṭabarī 3:1485; Ibn Hishām 3:1377; Ibn Ḥibbān, al-Sīra, 1:262ff; Kalāᶜī 2:176; Guillaume 461. See also Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba 223; Dhahabī, Ta’rīkh, 2:307ff. Al-Fazārī and Khalīfa ibn Khayyāṭ do not mention this raid at all. 224. For “annihilation,” see Hisham Ramadan, Understanding Islamic Law, 78; for “butchery,” see Djait, al-Fitna, 28; for “massacre,” see Qimany, Ḥurūb 2:262. See the view of Kister, “The Massacre of the Banū Qurayẓa,” 61. It is also called the “treachery” of Banū Qurayẓa by the Muslim author Amina Adil, Muhammad, 392. Djait, after calling it majzara (butchery), argues that the incident inaugurated “a truly violent dawla (state)” where violence (as Arabs never saw it) became a frequently applied practice. Djait, al-Fitna, 28. 225. See, for instance, Ramadan, Understanding Islamic Law, 78, where he claims that “the rule applied to Bani Qurayza is not Islamic, but an application of Deuteronomy, the enemy’s book” (78), and affirms that this “annihilation” “represents an award rendered in arbitration,” and that this “is in full agreement with the rules set forth in the Geneva Convention of 1949 with regard to prisoners of war and protected persons.” For the traditional argument regarding Muhammad’s kindness to the Jews, see Amina Adil, Muhammad, 392. 226. See Barakat Ahmad, Muhammad and the Jews, 9–10, where he insists that such an act was never condoned by Islam, and argues that the stories about murdering or expellingthe Jews were fabricated reports by ᶜAbbāsid storytellers with polemical motivations to warn the Jews of the empire. See also Arafat, “New Light,” 100–107. 227. See Norman Stillman, The Jews of Arab Lands, 137; Bat Ye’or, Islam and Dhimmitude, 37. Gerhard Bowering states, “In the aftermath of the ‘Battle of the Trench,’ Muhammad felt free to deal harshly with the Banu Qurayza, executing their men and selling their women and children into slavery.” Bowering, “Muhammad,” in The Princeton Encyclopedia of Islamic Political Thought, ed. idem, 375. Bernard Lewis asserts that the Jews of Banū Qurayẓa were given the choice between conversion and death. Lewis, The Jews of Islam, 10, 83. 228. Watt, “The Condemnation of the Jews of Banu Qurayza,” in his Early Islam: Collected Articles, 1–11, and previously published as an article in 1952 with Muslim World. 229. Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba 223; Ibn Hishām 3:1377; Ṭabarī 3: 1485; Ibn Saᶜd 2:70–74; Masᶜūdī, Tanbīh, 217. 230. Guillaume 461; see also Ṭabarī 3:1487. 231. Zuhrī 81–82; Guillaume 464; Ibn Hishām 3:1388; Ibn Ḥibbān, al-Sīra, 1:265. Saᶜd converted to Islam right after the hijra. He was from the anṣār. 232. Guillaume 464; Ibn Hishām 3:1391; Ṭabarī 3:1493. See also Ibn Ḥibbān, al-Sīra, 1:266. 233. Ṭabarī 3:1499–1500. 234. Ṭabarī 3:1497. See Yaᶜqūbī 2:53, and Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba 223. 235. Ṭabarī 3:1497. See Kister, “The Massacre of the Banū Qurayẓa,” 96. 236. Yaᶜqūbī 2:53; Ṭabarī 3:1498. On Rayḥāna, see Ziriklī, Aᶜlām, 3:38. 237. Yaᶜqūbī writes that Banū Qurayẓa broke their treaty with Muhammad (2:53). 238. See Stillman, Jews of Arab Lands, 16, where he argues that the execution was “not unusual according to the harsh rules of war during that period.” However, Djait, in disagreement with Stillman, argues that the punishment, particularly against women and children, was unusual among the Arabs. Djait, al-Fitna, 28. 239. Tor Andræ views this conflict in religious terms. He argues that Muhammad treated Banū Qurayẓa this way because “the Jews were the sworn enemies of Allah and His revelation.”

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Andræ, Mohammed, 155. The Tunisian Muslim Hichem Djait believes that the community of Believers, under Muhammad, formed a dawla (state), which, from the standpoint of Arabia and the neighboring communities, innamā buniyat ᶜalā al-ḥarb, ᶜala tashkīl quwwat tadakhkhul (was built on war, by establishing an aggressive intervention force). See Djait, al-Fitna, 26–27. 240. See, for instance, Ṭabarī 3:1482; Kalāᶜī 2:173. 241. Wāqidī, al-Maghāzī, 2:445; Ḥalabī 2:628. Al-Qimany affirms the same, Ḥurūb, 2:247. 242. Ṭabarī 3:1482; Ibn Hishām 3:1374–1375; Ibn Ḥibbān, al-Sīra al-nabawiyya wa akhbār al-khulafā’, 1:261; Ibn Ḥabīb, Muḥabbar, 113; Kalāᶜī 2:173. 243. Ḥuyayy desires to enter the house of Kaᶜb; the latter refuses, and the former insists. They keep talking, until Kaᶜb lets Ḥuyayy in. They converse and negotiate terms, and so forth. This looks like a drama. One wonders how the Muslim authors knew the details of this conversation. The story and the dialogue seem invented to place Banū Qurayẓa in a bad light, affirming they betrayed Muhammad, and thus deserve what happened to them. 244. See, for instance, Kalāᶜī 2:173; Ṭabarī 3:1482. Ibn Ḥibbān, al-Sīra, 1:261; Ibn Ḥabīb, Muḥabbar, 113. 245. See the magnum opus of Jawwād ᶜAlī (1907–1987), al-Mufaṣṣal fī tārīkh al-ᶜarab qabl al-Islām, 5:333ff (reasons for raids), and 5:399ff (wars and conquests); in addition, see 4:271ff (the general rules of the Arabian society). See also Bodley, The Messenger, 31–33; Grunebaum, Classical Islam, 18. ᶜAbd al-Karīm, Mujtamaᶜ Yathrib, 21, 27. 246. Guillaume 464; Ibn hishām 3:1391; Ṭabarī 3:1493. On manslaughter, vendetta, and raid customs in Arabia, see Rodinson, Muhammad: Prophet of Islam, 14ff. 247. Ṭabarī 3:1499; Ibn Saᶜd 2:72. According to al-Balādhurī, the Prophet instructed the killing of man kān muḥtaliman aw nabatat ᶜānatah. See al-Balādhurī, Kitāb futūḥ al-buldān, 22 (hereafter Balādhurī 22). See also the English translation of al-Balādhurī’s work: The Origins of the Islamic State, trans. Francis Clark Murgotten and Philip Khuri Hitti, 41 (Hereafter Murgotten and Hitti 41). 248. Guillaume 464; Ṭabarī 3:1493; Ibn Ḥibbān, al-Sīra, 1:266. See Masᶜūdī, Tanbīh, 217, where the number is 750 men. 249. See Bayhaqī 4:29, 28. The word used is not malāk (angel), but rather malak, which refers to a high-level archangel. The number 70,000 is unrealistic, as it is much more than the number of angels who appeared at Badr. This exaggerated number shows a tendentious attempt to portray a “religious” and supernatural picture of natural events. Tracing the development in the supernatural tales of Islamic origins suggests that later authors provided a more fanciful and exaggerated picture. 250. See W. N. Arafat, “New Light on the Story of Banū Qurayẓa,” 100–107, especially 106. Arafat dismisses the incident entirely, claiming it is a myth. In defending the Prophet, Arafat concludes, “So then the real source of this unacceptable story of slaughter was the descendants of the Jews of Medina, from whom Ibn Isḥāq took these ‘odd tales’. For doing so Ibn Isḥāq was severely criticized by other scholars and historians and was called by Malik an impostor” (106). See also the same interpretation, yet without dismissing the story altogether, in Mubārakpūrī, Rawḍat, 130–131; idem, al-Raḥīq, 314. 251. See Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī (Volume 1, Book 8, Number 367; also Volume 4, Book 52, Number 280) in http://www.sahih-bukhari.com/ (accessed May 8, 2016). Consider the Tafsīr of

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sūra 33:26 and how the following mufassirūn explain the incident of Banū Qurayẓa. See Muqatil 2:13, 24, 26, 42; 3:43, 3:239. See also Qurṭubī 5:35, 6:218, and 7:395, and compare with sūra 8:55–58 for a possible justification of the treatment of the Banū Qurayẓa. With these references in mind, it appears that the argument of Arafat does not have a solid ground to dismiss the incident as a myth. Compare with the argument of the Muslim author ᶜAbd al-Raḥmān, Judhūr al-quwwa, 148ff, who reads the story as a strategicmove initiated by Muhammad. 252. Kister, “The Massacre of the Banū Qurayẓa,” 96. 253. The Treaty of Ḥudaybiyya is important to examine, but our focus is on the raids. It is noteworthy, however, that the Treaty of Ḥudaybiyya never affirmed Muhammad’s prophethood (see Ṭabarī 3:1546). He signed his name but without mentioning his prophethood or apostleship (nabī or rasūl). What motivated the treaty was not a religion that encouraged the Believers to create peace, but rather a strategic tactical move to provide enough stability for consolidating and advancing the dominion of the umma. See Kalāᶜī 2:240. Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba states that the raid to Khaybar was in A.H. 6 (p.247). Khaybar is an oasis located about 90 miles northwest of Medina. 254. Zuhrī 84–85; Ibn Hishām 3:1543; Ṭabarī 3:1575. See Yaᶜqūbī 2:56; Bayhaqī 4:194. 255. Balādhurī 23; Murgotten and Hitti 42. See also Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba 247, using the same verb. 256. Ṭabarī 3:1576, 1582 and the same in Ibn Hishām 3:1563; Yaᶜqūbī 2:56; Zuhrī 161–162. In al-Bayhaqī, it is rendered “the king of Yathrib” (4:230–232). The ḥijāz is the region where Mecca and Medina are located in western Arabia. 257. Once he suppressed Khaybar, the last Jewish community at Fadak also surrendered. 258. Guillaume 515; Ibn Hishām 3:1564. See also Ibn Hishām 3:1547–1548. 259. Ṭabarī 3:1576. See also Ibn Ḥabīb, Muḥabbar, 90. 260. Suhaylī 7:96. 261. Ibn Hishām 3:1565; Guillaume 515. Abū Isḥāq al-Fazārī (d. after 185/802), Kitāb al-siyar, 239. 262. Khalīfa, Ta’rīkh, 1:83; Ibn Hishām 3:1565; Guillaume 515; see also Ṭabarī 3:1583. 263. See Guillaume 515–516. 264. Ṭabarī 3:1583; Ibn Hishām 3:1565. 265. See the amount of wealth that the Believers gained from Khaybar, Ibn Hishām 3:1587; Kalāᶜī 2:271. 266. See Ṭabarī 3:1618–1621, especially 3:1621; Ibn Hishām 4:1654; Guillaume 542; Dhahabī, Ta’rīkh, 2:521ff. 267. Al-Ṭabarī states that they rahabū alladhī ṣanaᶜū (feared what happened) (3:1622). 268. Ṭabarī 3:1418. 269. Guillaume 543; see Ibn Hishām 4:1656; Ṭabarī 3:1622. 270. Ibn Yaḥyā al-Balādhurī, Ansāb al-ashrāf, 1:353. Qimany affirms the same report. Qimany, Ḥurūb, 2:330. 271. Ṭabarī 3:1634. 272. Ṭabarī 3:1632 and Guillaume 547. 273. Ṭabarī 3:1632; Ibn Hishām 4:1667; see also Zuhrī 88–89. 274. Guillaume 547–548; Zuhrī 89. 275. See Ibn Hishām 4:1657; Zuhrī 87.

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2 76. Ṭabarī 3:1633; Guillaume 548. 277. Ṭabarī 3:1633; Guillaume 548. Al-ᶜAbbās responded to Abū Sufyān, “it was due to the prophethood.” The fact is that al-ᶜAbbās also delayed his conversion. This whole dialogue appears forged. Rudolf Sellheim argues that this conversation is a creation of ᶜAbbāsid propaganda against the Umayyads to indicate that the latter (related to Abū Sufyān) were not “good” Muslims. See Sellheim, “Prophet, Chalif Und Geschichte,” 33–91. For a possible Umayyad account, see Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba 269–273, where Abū Sufyān’s conversion to Islam is portrayed differently. On the bias against the Umayyads, see Mu’nis, Tanqiyat uṣūl al-tārīkh al-Islamī, 53ff. Borrut, Entre Mémoire, 6, 8–9. 278. Djait, relying on Ibn Hishām’s sīra, argues that as early as the Second Aqaba Pledge Muhammad intended to declare outright war against Mecca, and was waiting for the strategic timing. Djait, al-Fitna, 27. 279. The Moroccan historian ᶜĀbid al-Jābrī explains that “Islam” in that early stage, precisely during Muhammad’s time in Medina, was mainly islāman siyāsiyyan (Islam of a political nature) and meant iᶜtirāfan bi-zaᶜāmat dawlat al-rasūl (a recognition of the Messenger Muhammad’s State). See ᶜĀbid al-Jābrī, Naqd al-ᶜaql, 3: 165–166.

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Faizer, Rizwi Shuhadha. “Ibn Isḥāq and Al-Wāqidī Revisited: A Case Study of Muhammad and the Jews in Biographical Literature.” PhD, McGill University, Canada, 1995. Goldziher, Ignaz. Introduction to Islamic Theology and Law. Translated by Andras and Ruth Hamori. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981. Grunebaum, Gustave E. von. Classical Islam: A History, 600–1258. Translated by Kathrine Watson. Chicago: Aldine Pub. Co., 1970. Hawting, G. R. The Idea of Idolatry and the Emergence of Islam: From Polemic to History. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1999. Hoyland, Robert G. In God’s Path: The Arab Conquests and the Creation of an Islamic Empire Ancient Warfare and Civilization. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015. ———. Seeing Islam as Others Saw It: A Survey and Evaluation of Christian, Jewish, and Zoroastrian Writings on Early Islam Studies in Late Antiquity and Early Islam, 13. Princeton: Darwin Press, 1997. Ibn Warraq, ed. The Quest for the Historical Muhammad. Amherst, N.Y.: Prometheus Books, 2000. Jafar, Iftitah. “Modern Qur’ānic Exegesis: A Comparative Study of the Methods of Muḥammad ᶜAbduh and Muḥammad Rashīd Ridā.” M.A., McGill University (Canada), 1998. Jones, J. M. B. “The Chronology of the ‘Mag̱ hāzī’—a Textual Survey.” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London 19, no. 2 (1957): 245–280. Kennedy, Hugh. The Prophet and the Age of the Caliphates: The Islamic Near East from the Sixth to the Eleventh Century. Harlow, London: Longman, 1986. Reprint, 2004. Kister, M. J. “Land Property and Jihād: A Discussion of Some Early Traditions.” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 34, no. 3 (1991): 270–311. ———. “Some Reports Concerning Mecca from Jāhiliyya to Islam.” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 15, no. 1/2 (1972): 61–93. ———. “The Market of the Prophet.” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient, no. VIII (1965): 272–276. ———. “The Massacre of the Banū Qurayẓa: A Re-Examination of a Tradition.” Jerusalem Studies in Arabic and Islam 8 (1986): 61–96. Lassner, Jacob. Islamic Revolution and Historical Memory: An Inquiry into the Art of ᶜAbbāsid Apologetics. New Haven: American Oriental Society, 1986. Lewis, Bernard. The Jews of Islam. London; New York: Routledge, 2010. Martin, Richard C., ed. Approaches to Islam in Religious Studies. Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1985. McAuliffe, Jane Dammen, ed. Encyclopaedia of the Qur’ān. 6 Vols. Leiden: Brill, 2001–2006. Ramadan, Hisham M. Understanding Islamic Law: From Classical to Contemporary. Lanham, MD: AltaMira Press, 2006. Ramadan, Tariq. In the Footsteps of the Prophet: Lessons from the Life of Muhammad. New York: Oxford University Press, 2007. Razwy, Sayed Ali Asgher. A Restatement of the History of Islam and Muslims. Stanmore, Middlesex, United Kingdom: World Federation of KSI Muslim Communities, 1997. Rippin, Andrew. Muslims: Their Religious Beliefs and Practices. London; New York: Routledge, 1990; reprint, 2008.

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———. “The Exegetical Genre ‘Asbāb al-Nuzūl’: A Bibliographical and Terminological Survey.” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 48, no. 1 (1985): 1–15. ———. “The Function of ‘Asbāb Al-Nuzūl’ in Qur’ānic Exegesis.” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 51, no. 1 (1988): 1–20. Robinson, Chase F. Islamic Historiography. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Rodinson, Maxime. Muhammad: Prophet of Islam. London; New York: I.B. Tauris, 2002. Rubin, Uri. “The Assassination of Kaᶜb B. Al-Ashraf.” Oriens 32 (1990): 65–71. Savant, Sarah Bowen. The New Muslims of Post-Conquest Iran: Tradition, Memory and Conversion. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 2013. Schoeler, Gregor. Écrire et transmettre dans les débuts de l’islam. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 2002. ———. The Genesis of Literature in Islam: From the Aural to the Read. Translated by Shawkat M. Toorawa. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2009. Sellheim, Rudolf. “Prophet, Chalif Und Geschichte. Die Muhammed-Biographie Des Ibn Isḥāq.” Oriens 18/19 (1965): 33–91. Shoemaker, Stephen J. The Death of a Prophet: The End of Muhammad’s Life and the Beginnings of Islam. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2012. Sirry, Mun’im A. Scriptural Polemics: The Qur’ān and Other Religions. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014. Sizgorich, Thomas. Violence and Belief in Late Antiquity: Militant Devotion in Christianity and Islam. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2009. Stillman, Norman A. The Jews of Arab Lands: A History and Source Book. Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1979. Waines, David. An Introduction to Islam. 2nd ed. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995. Wansbrough, John E. Qur’ānic Studies: Sources and Methods of Scriptural Interpretation. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1977. Watt, W. Montgomery. Early Islam: Collected Articles. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1990. ———. “Islamic Conceptions of the Holy War.” In The Holy War. Edited by T. P. Murphy, 141–156. Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1974. Wood, Simon A. Christian Criticisms, Islamic Proofs: Rashīd Riḍā’s Modernist Defense of Islam. Richmond: Oneworld, 2009.

chapter

four

The Stated Motivations for the Early Futūḥ From Maghāzī to Futūḥ Through the Ridda Wars: A Critical Revision

“The goal of the Muslim conquests was not greed for loot or accumulating wealth, but rather for the proclamation of the Islamic preaching and to take care of the interests of people, liberate humans from darkness, ignorance, and backwardness, and spreading light, civilization and modernity.” —R āghib al -S irjānī (1964–), P h D. “The purpose of fighting is not for the Muslims to enjoy the pleasure of superiority, but rather that the religion of truth must become plainly above all the others, and that the law of justice and the word of piety should become superior above all falsehood, injustice, and immorality.” —M uḥammad Ḥ usayn al -Ṭ abāṭabā ’ ī (1904–1981)

This chapter moves the narrative to the next episode in Islamic history: The early Arab conquests—specifically their underlying motivations—during the first decade of al-khulafā’ al-rāshidūn (the Rashidun Caliphs) (11/632–20/641).1 While still considering the secondary studies, this chapter mainly analyzes Muslim primary sources. It consists of three sections. The first section analyzes four major precursors to the conquests: the appointment of Abū Bakr as Muhammad’s first successor, the Ridda Wars, Usāma’s expedition to Syria, and Khālid’s expedition to Iraq. The second section centers on the conquest of Syria. It examines six different accounts for futūḥ al-Shām, in addition to various other histories, providing

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critical observations regarding what motivated such a conquest. The third section focuses on fatḥ Miṣr (the Conquest of Egypt). It analyzes the conquest account as reported in four major early Muslim histories, including the earliest known thematically restricted account for that conquest by Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam (d. 257/871), and provides major critical observations.

Precursors of the Early Arab Conquests After Muhammad’s death (11/632), Abū Bakr (d. 13/634) was appointed as the Prophet’s first successor in a contested procedure. During the two-year period of his caliphate (r. 11/632–13/634), he initiated the Ridda Wars and launched the early futūḥ to the Byzantine and Persian frontiers. While he may have seen some positive results from the Ridda Wars, most of the futūḥ did not accomplish their ultimate success in his lifetime. He did, however, commission the expeditions to Syria and Iraq, and is thus regarded as the progenitor of the early conquests after Muhammad. Here, the four major events which preceded the great Arab conquests—each of which took place during the two years after Muhammad’s death—will be analyzed: Abū Bakr’s appointment as the first Caliph, his initiative to launch the Ridda Wars against the so-called murtaddūn (Muslim apostates), and the expeditions to Syria and Iraq. The structure of the analysis is fairly straightforward: each analysis begins by examining the major historiographical accounts of the event, followed by critical observations which focus on possible motivations, according to the Muslim reports.

The Appointment of Abū Bakr at the Saqīfa of Banū Sāᶜida The saqīfa refers to the Bedouin roofed structure of the sons of Sāᶜida, who were of the anṣār (Medinan supporters of Muhammad) of the clan of Khazraj.2 At the saqīfa, on the day of Muhammad’s death, Abū Bakr was appointed al-khalīfa (the successor, the Caliph).3 The event of appointing Abū Bakr as Muhammad’s successor raises questions about the unity of the Muslim community in Medina around the time of Muhammad’s death.4 Contrary to tradit ional Muslim arguments,5 the umma was far from unified, and the Arabian Peninsula was not entirely under the Prophet’s rule. After examining this incident, it is reasonable to conclude that Abū Bakr’s appointment, and his involvement in the launching of the early conquests, proves the umma was far from unified and primarily driven by tribal politics, rather than religious measures. During the time of his appointment, there were two major Muslim groups at Medina: the Medinan anṣār (Helpers), chiefly from the clans of Aws and Khazraj,

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and the Meccan muhājirūn (Emigrants). Conflict and resentment between these different groups were evident, though suppressed and hidden during Muhammad’s lifetime. The situation changed upon his death with the new problem of succession.6 Al-Ṭabarī explains that, while the Muslims were still in shock due to the Prophet’s death, the anṣār summoned a gathering at the saqīfa in order to appoint a successor from their group.7 The muhājirūn (Meccan emigrants) were not informed of this crucial meeting, and once Abū Bakr and ᶜUmar learned of it, they hurried to join.8 Muhammad did not seem to have named a successor, nor a method of choosing one.9 The sunnī tradition clearly emphasizes the dispute between the anṣār and muhājirūn over Muhammad’s successor,10 while the shīᶜī insists—based upon ḥadīth al-ghadīr (the saying at the pond)—that Muhammad had actually appointed ᶜAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib as his legitimate successor at Ghadīr Khumm (the pond of Khumm) (10/631), several months before his death.11 Al-Ṭabarī writes about the reaction of the Medinan anṣār (or some of them) to the appointment of Abū Bakr: lā nubāyiᶜ illā ᶜAliyyan (we will not give the oath of allegiance except to ᶜAlī).12 In addition to the Medinan anṣār, some key Meccan muhājirūn refused the appointment of Abū Bakr.13 According to al-Ṭabarī, the elevation of Abū Bakr was neither supported nor approved by key companions such as al-Zubayr and ᶜAlī, but the decision was forced on them by ᶜUmar.14 Ultimately, the result of this meeting was the appointment of Abū Bakr as Caliph, in spite of the disagreements surrounding the decision. Furthermore, contrary to the sunnī traditional views in particular, it appears that the appointment of Abū Bakr was not based on religious reasons. It was a tribal dispute between Meccan emigrants and Medinan supporters. The anṣār insisted they had the right to choose the Caliph from among themselves, and declared minnā amīr wa min Quraysh amīr (a commander from us, and another from the Quraysh).15 This indicates a clear political dispute between the Medinan anṣār and Meccan muhājirūn;16 that is, it is a tribal dispute. In addition, disputes were not only between these two major groups, but also among the muhājirūn themselves. The conflict regarding the succession between Abū Bakr and ᶜUmar on the one hand and al-Zubayr and ᶜAlī on the other reflects political interests and leadership concerns. Within this tribal-political context, one must consider the events, which fol lowed Muhammad’s death. ᶜAlī’s acceptance of Abū Bakr’s appointment is disputed, and it appears that it took him six months to give Abū Bakr the oath of loyalty.17 The matter clearly revolved around securing tribal authority and possessing political power rather than religious leadership, especially when considering the way ᶜUmar forced al-Zubayr and ᶜAlī to give their allegiance to Abū Bakr.18 Because the anṣār were ready to appoint Saᶜd ibn ᶜUbāda, the chief of Khazraj, it is unclear why they allowed Abū Bakr (one of the muhājirūn) to take over.19 Abū ᶜUbayda warned the anṣār, saying: “O anṣār, you were the first to support, do not

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become now the first to ghayyar wa baddal (alter and change).” 20 Abū ᶜUbayda’s statement seems to indicate a tendency among Abū Bakr’s supporters to accuse those who withheld their loyalty of religious unfaithfulness; if you do not give the bayᶜa (oath of allegiance) to Abū Bakr, this is tantamount to ridda (apostasy).21 On that same day, Saᶜd ibn ᶜUbāda was mysteriously found dead. While the anṣār accused ᶜUmar and Abū Bakr of murdering their chief, ᶜUmar claimed qatal Allāh Saᶜdan (Allah killed Saᶜd).22 Tribal conspiracies and political plots contributed to the appointment of the Prophet’s successor and would also af fect later decisions made regarding the conquests.23 Al-Ṭabarī acknowledges the severe tension between Abū Bakr and some of Muhammad’s relatives from Banū Hāshim, such as Fāṭima, al-ᶜAbbās, and ᶜAlī, which is evidenced by ᶜAlī’s reluctance to give allegiance to the elected Caliph until Muhammad’s daughter, Fāṭima, died.24 In a conversation with Abū Bakr, ᶜAlī openly declared in front of many people of Banū Hāshim: Inn la-nā fī hadhā al-amr ḥaqqan f-astabdadtum bi-h ᶜalaynā (we have the right in this matter [caliphate, or succession], yet you domineered with it over us).25 In supporting ᶜAlī, Abū Sufyān was dissatisfied with the choice of Abū Bakr and told ᶜAlī that he could bring troops (men and horses) to fight Abū Bakr; however, ᶜAlī seemed to have desired peace.26 Furthermore, in a questionable statement which links tribal politics with religious convictions, it was decided that any Muslim who did not give the oath of allegiance to Abū Bakr on the day of the saqīfa was considered murtadd aw man kād an yartadd (apostate or about to apostatize)27—a declaration which placed significant pressure on the Believers. Therefore, the various disputes between the Believers (anṣār, muhājirūn, Abū Bakr’s supporters, and ᶜAlī’s defenders) indicate that the matter was primarily concerned with power and dominance rather than religious beliefs. While the details from the meeting at the saqīfa are ambiguous and highly disputed,28 we can affirm a few things based on historiographical accounts: (1) the anṣār wanted a Caliph from among them, and hastened to meet on the very day of Muhammad’s death, (2) they were about to name Saᶜd ibn ᶜUbāda, chief of Khazraj, the Caliph, 29 (3) the Meccan muhājirūn, led chiefly by Abū Bakr and ᶜUmar, rushed to join the saqīfa gathering and objected to the choice of the anṣār based on tribal procedures30 and offered Abū Bakr as Caliph, (4) the anṣār, in refusing Abū Bakr, affirmed they could accept only ᶜAlī who was not from the anṣār though he was not present at the meeting, and (5) at the end of a tumultuous and long debate, Abū Bakr was appointed Caliph, the anṣārī Saᶜd ibn ᶜUbāda was found dead, purportedly killed by Allah, and none of Banū Hāshim, including ᶜAlī, gave the oath of loyalty to Abū Bakr at that time. It is obvious that there was no consensus on choosing Abū Bakr as Caliph. In early Muslim accounts, there is an absence of religious terms or faith-based

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statements behind choosing Abū Bakr and dismissing Saᶜd and ᶜAlī. Tribal issues and a desire for power seem to have driven the decision, according to the sources. While sunnī Muslims advocate for Abū Bakr and shīᶜī for ᶜAlī, the traditions are ambiguous, and what took place at thesaqīfa points to the uncertainty of both claims. If we consider the case for appointing Abū Bakr, the early accounts do not support a religious decision, but rather a tribal one. It is obvious, however, that secondary sunnī studies have adopted a religious interpretation to support elevating Abū Bakr.31 When considering the case against Abū Bakr, mostly maintained by the Shiites, the matter is equally complex. While the supporters of ᶜAlī insist on Muhammad’s clear designation of ᶜAlī at Ghadīr Khumm, there does not seem to be enough evidence to support the claim that many Muslims were aware of this incident and were willing to defend ᶜAlī’s position. If the incident of appointing ᶜAlī was widely known among the Muslims, why did Alī’s supporters not speak up and why was there a severe dissonance between the Muslims regarding Muhammad’s successor?32 It is safe to conclude that after Muhammad’s death, discord broke out among the Believers, and that lust for power, tribal considerations, and political concerns were the driving force behind the decisions.

The Ridda Wars This internal conflict continued after the appointment of Abū Bakr. The Ridda Wars is a term, which refers to the wars during Abū Bakr’s caliphate and under his orders (11–13/632–634), commonly called the “apostasy wars.” These wars were against those who, after the death of the Prophet, renounced Islam and refrained from paying the zakāt (charitable almsgiving, hereafter zakat) as well as those who falsely proclaimed their own prophethood. Whether these wars targeted those who abandoned Islam after Muhammad’s death or those who remained Muslims yet refused to pay the zakat (or against both groups) appears ambiguous in the tradition. Also ambiguous is whether the wars were waged for religious or political reasons—to preserve Islam and its creeds, or to secure the newly founded Muslim community under Abū Bakr’s leadership. In what follows, I will begin by exploring the different views of various sunnī and shīᶜī Muslims on the Ridda Wars, followed by a brief analysis of recent scholars’ arguments, before concluding with a critical analysis of the primary Muslim historical accounts on the Ridda. The common traditional sunnī Muslim interpretation argues that ḥurūb al-ridda (the Ridda Wars) were religiously driven. They were legitimate wars against those who abandoned Islam by committing one or more of the following three wrongdoings: (1) refusing Islam altogether, (2) claiming prophethood, (3) or refusing (and prohibiting) the paying of the zakat.33 Fighting the apostates, according to traditionalists, was necessary in order to preserve Islam. Apostates

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were given three options: submission, exile, or the sword.34 For Muslim traditionalists, there is no difference between al-dīn wa-l-dunyā wa-l-siyāsa (religion, life affairs, and politics) in Islam, as the religion is the marjiᶜiyya (standard reference) for communal life and politics; consequently, the saḥāba (companions) did not distinguish between apostates, self-claimed prophets, or those prohibiting the zakat.35 Still, some traditionalists do not deny that the Ridda Wars had some political dimension to them. For them, the Ridda Wars were “religious and political at the same time”—religious, because the apostates denied Islam or one of its tenets, and political, because of the importance and urgency of confronting every person or threat that sought to shake niẓām al-dawla al-islāmiyya (the structure of the Islamic State).36 Thus, the sunnī argument portrays ḥurūb al-ridda as primarily religiously motivated wars, legitimately fought in order to preserve the faith. The common shīᶜī Muslim perspective on ḥurūb al-ridda differs from the sunnī perspective in several ways. In a work on ᶜAlī’s life, Jaᶜfar Murtaḍā wonders whether the sunnī Muslims use the term ḥurūb al-ridda to mean the “wars of apostasy” or “wars against those who refused the zakat,” and affirms that there is a great misconception among Muslims regarding these wars. He argues that Muslims need to distinguish between these two possibilities. In his opinion, these wars “were in reality the wars fought by Abū Bakr against his opponents.”37 He points out that the Arabs were expecting ᶜAlī to succeed the Prophet, because they knew of ḥadīth al-ghadīr. When things went differently and Abū Bakr took over, they were not ready to accept him. Abū Bakr, aware of their disapproval of him, desired to ensure there would not be a revolt. He proceeded to secure his power as Caliph by launching these wars to subdue them before they could attack.38 According to this shīᶜī assessment, therefore, Abū Bakr was not fighting those who abandoned Islam, but those who refused his leadership and rebelled against him. He fought true Muslims and not apostates. They were in defiance against his seizing the caliphate rule, which was, according to their beliefs, supposed to be given to ᶜAlī. Another shīᶜī perspective states that the so-called ḥurūb al-ridda, commissioned by Abū Bakr and achieved mostly by ᶜIkrima ibn Abī Jahl and Khālid ibn al-Walīd, targeted Muslim believers who did not actually deny the concept of the zakat, but rather denied giving it to an illegitimate leader, as they believed ᶜAlī to be Muhammad’s legitimate successor: “the fighting [of Abū Bakr] against these tribes was motivated by [his desire to] suppress the opposing movements to his rule, and to avoid any upcoming possible movements that might rise claiming that he was not a legitimate Caliph.”39 Non-Muslim modern scholarship on ḥurūb al-ridda adopts the sunnī’s general perspectives;40 consequently, they view the Ridda Wars as wars tar geting three groups: apostates, self-proclaimed prophets, and tax-rejecters. Examining some of these non-Muslim works, specifically in the Western scholarship, will suffice to

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make the point. Arent Wensinck rightly observes that the resistance against Abū Bakr originated from three groups. While two groups embraced what Islam considered kufr (infidelity)—the group which followed false prophets, and the group which left Islam altogether—the third group consisted of Muslims who refused to pay the zakat but remained in the faith.41 William Muir writes that the Muslim tradition linksḥurūb al-ridda to the preservation of the true religion established by the Prophet. In launching the Ridda Wars, Muir observes, “Tradition delights to ascribe with pious gratitude the preservation of Islām to the aged Caliph’s faith and fortitude.”42 Muir appears to adopt a sunnī perspective with hardly any critical assessment. Following the traditional interpretation, he argues the Ridda Wars were religiously motivated to preserve the faith,43 and fails to distinguish between those who left Islam and those who refused to pay the taxes. Donner, in contrast, rightly classifies what Muslim sources call “apostates” into two groups: (1) a group that challenged the Caliph’s political control in Medina as well as the Muslim religious claims “by proposing rival ideol ogies … prophets and political leaders,” and (2) a group that “had a more strictly political character” such as the tax-rejecters who were against the Islamic state.44 Hugh Kennedy calls the movements of self-proclaimed prophets in eastern and northeastern Arabia ridda, and seems to combine it with māniᶜū al-zakāt (tax-rejecters).45 Kennedy, like Muir, portrays al-ridda as a widespread movement, which included not only apostates, but also false prophets and tax-rejecters. Walter Kaegi defines the Ridda Wars as the “local resistance movements in the Arabian Peninsula that opposed the Islamic government at Medina,” and states that “hardly any tribe reverted to polytheism.”46 Apparently, Kaegi, like Kennedy, makes no clear distinction between the political resistance against Medina and the group of so-called apostates who quit Islam after Muhammad’s death. Modern Muslim scholarship on ḥurūb al-ridda varies greatly in its approach to this topic. According to Ṭāhā Ḥusayn, the reason for launching the Ridda Wars was that Abū Bakr could not give in or negotiate with Arab apostates who refused to pay the zakat to Medina. Ḥusayn supports Abū Bakr and observes that the Caliph was aware that the zakat was one of the pillars of Islam; consequently, he could not compromise or negotiate about it.47 Ḥusayn makes the case that Abū Bakr rightly fought those tax-rejecters because of his religious conviction. Sayyid al-Qimany (1947–), however, writes that the non-Muslim Arabs did not accept Abū Bakr as Caliph, because they were not consulted on the matter when he was appointed at the saqīfa. Abū Bakr, according to al-Qimany, “transformed the political conflict into a religious one, considering that the act of fighting those Arabs is a religious duty because they have kafarū (become infidels) and irtaddū (apostatized).”48 He believes these tribes were falsely accused of apostasy. They had confirmed that they would pay the zakat and distribute it themselves

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among the poor, in accordance with the religious norm. They refused to pay ḍarībat al-māl li-l-ᶜāṣima (the additional tax money to the government in the capital), which was unacceptable to the Caliph, and he sent his army to execute them. Al-Qimany rejects the possibility of religious motives behind the Ridda Wars, and views them as illegitimate. He argues there was no justification for murdering Arabs simply because they refused to yield to an order stated by the new Caliph.49 The Sudanese-American Muslim scholar Abdullahi An-Na’im (1946–) seems to view the Ridda Wars as primarily politically driven expeditions, though he still justifies the Caliph’s actions and argues that “Abu Bakr was able to enforce his view over the objections of the leading Companions because he was the caliph, not because he was ‘right’ or ‘correct’ from an Islamic point of view.”50 Thus, the actions of Abū Bakr were chiefly justified, according to An-Na’im, because of his powerful position, rather than his religious legitimacy. After briefly surveying these sunnī, shīᶜī, and non-Muslim ar guments, it is reasonable to conclude that the matter of ḥurūb al-ridda in the Muslim historical accounts is quite complex. In the following analysis, I am not trying to determine whether Abū Bakr was justified for his decision to wage the Ridda Wars. I am not concerned with the religious justification offered by Abū Bakr’s advocates for his decision to launch these wars. My concern centers on the motivations for these wars because they served as the primary launching-pad for the expansion of the early Islamic State.51 My goal is to analyze the Muslim historical accounts critically to show what they depict relative to Abū Bakr’s motivations.52 I will demonstrate that Abū Bakr was not necessarily concerned with bringing back to Islam those who quit the faith. Rather, he sought political consolidation to strengthen the umma against his opponents’ attempts to revolt from within or outside Medina. The religious claims and statements voiced by the Caliph have served as an acceptable justification for his pursuit of political security and advancement. To this end, there are six critical points to make regarding what motivated ḥurūb al-ridda. First, in analyzing the Ridda Wars critically, it is important to identify the different groups Abū Bakr fought in Arabia and to distinguish between his political and religious roles. The ambiguity of the historical accounts regarding the Ridda Wars stems mainly from confusing Abū Bakr’s political-tribal role with his lauded, although disputed, religious role. There is ambiguity regarding whether the wars were religiously justified, since some confessing Muslims were murdered, whether the wars targeted only the apostates or also Muslims who refrained from the zakat, and whether the wars were waged against the self-proclaimed prophets after they renounced Islam or against any self-proclaimed prophet in Arabia. Once we interpret the Ridda Wars through a religious lens (by portraying them as legitimate incursions driven by Abū Bakr’s pious zeal to defend Islam, protect its tenets, and advance its community), confusion, and ambiguity follow.53

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One reason the shīᶜī’s interpretation of these wars is more persuasive than that of the sunnī is because the shīᶜī approach does not recognize Abū Bakr as Muhammad’s legitimate successor. For example, the shīᶜī historian al-Yaᶜqūbī presents a concise sequence in describingayām Abū Bakr (the days or chronicles of Abū Bakr): “Some groups among the Arabs prophesied, while others irtaddū (turned their back on Islam) placing crowns on their heads [a sign of kingship], and others refrained from paying the zakat to Abū Bakr.”54 This concise sequence is absent from later sunnī’s accounts.55 Al-Yaᶜqūbī distinguishes between at least three different groups: (1) the Believers who sought political power [crowns] against the Caliph, (2) those who refrained from handing over the zakat to Abū Bakr, and (3) others who claimed prophecy.56 For al-Yaᶜqūbī, these were not all the same. Thus, they cannot all be considered apostates—some were Muslims, and others were not.57 On the contrary, the sunnī’s approach tends to place the three different groups in one set as ahl al-ridda (the people of apostasy), most likely to justify Abū Bakr’s decision.58 Ibn Kathīr entitles his section on the Ridda Wars as taṣaddī al-ṣiddīq li-qitāl ahl al-ridda wa māniᶜī al-zakāt (the confrontation of the faithful [Abū Bakr] to the apostates and tax-rejecters), yet in the first paragraph of this section he mentions the three different groups (those refusing Islam altogether, those self-proclaiming prophethood, and those prohibiting the paying of the zakat), identifying them all as apostates.59 The shīᶜī’s approach tends to distin guish between the different groups, portraying each distinctly.60 The confusion, especially in the sunnī interpretation, stems from the tendency to identify all three groups collectively as murtaddūn (apostates).61 To properly analyze Abū Bakr’s decision to fight the three different groups, one must distinguish between them, as they do not represent the same act of apostasy. This account, which views the Ridda Wars as politically motivated military campaigns to secure power and dominance under Abū Bakr’s rule, provides a clearer reconstruction of the events and parallels the earliest Muslim accounts. Second, Abū Bakr’s treatment of the group of māniᶜū al-zakāt (the tax-rejecters) sheds some light on what might have motivated the Ridda Wars. The common sunnī approach tends to portray this group among the apostates. While it could be religiously justifiable to argue for fighting false-prophets and enemies of Islam (i.e., those who quit Islam and targeted Medina), the tax-rejecters cannot be simply considered apostates, as often emphasized by the shīᶜī Muslims.62 The Caliph insisted on fighting them bi-nafsih (personally),63 and they were called not only murtaddūn (apostates), but also mushrikūn (associaters) and kuffār (infidels).64 However, al-Ṭabarī clearly writes that some of māniᶜū al-zakāt desired to remain Muslims, maintaining the Muslim prayer,65 but Abū Bakr refused and his troops waḍaᶜū fī-him al-suyūf (put them to the sword).66

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Abū Bakr’s insistence that those māniᶜū al-zakāt as apostates who deserved military attack cannot be easily justified based on religious ground. To consider a Muslim who prays and states the Shahada (the creed, declaration of faith) an apostate would at least require a strong Qur’ānic decree or an authentic prophetic ḥadīth; Abū Bakr had neither. In fact, based on a prophetic ḥadīth reported by an early muḥaddith Muḥammad al-Shaybānī (d. 184/805), it is ḥarām (unlawful) for a Muslim to kill another Muslim—the killer, in this case, is cursed by the angels of Allah and becomes kāfiran (infidel).67 If al-Shaybānī’s report is authentic, then Abū Bakr violated a basic Muslim tenet by killing fellow Muslims who merely refrained from paying taxes to the Caliph.68 Therefore, it is questionable to equate rejection of the zakat with renounc ing Islam. While the zakat is one of the pillars of Islam, prayer and the Shahada are others, which were affirmed by māniᶜū al-zakāt.69 It would be unthinkable to launch a war against Muslims who do not pray, condemning them as māniᶜū al-ṣalāt (those refrained from praying). This might be a reason for Donner’s correct assertion about the tax-rejecters: “None of these movements [tax rebellion] seem to have involved an outright rejection of Muhammad’s prophetic mission, as the movements led by ‘false prophets’ did, but they did oppose the extension of the political control of the Islamic state.”70 Thus, it appears conceivable that the Caliph desired their taxes to secure resources for the emerging state, and fought them to mainta in political stability against any rebellion attempts,71 rather than defending or promoting the religion.72 Third, Abū Bakr’s decision to wage war against fellow Muslims who refused the zakat was not only contradictory to Qur’ānic verses and prophetic ḥadīth, but also disapproved of by key highly esteemed ṣaḥāba (companions) of Muhammad. Ibn Kathīr indicates that some of the Prophet’s companions advised Abū Bakr, regarding the tax-rejecters, an yatrukahum wa mā hum ᶜalayh min manᶜ al-zakāt (to let them do what they desired as to forbidding the zakat), but Abū Bakr refused to follow that advice.73 Even the well-known companion ᶜUmar ibn al-Khaṭṭāb, in particular, was not in favor of such a war in the first place. In a tradition reported by Bukhārī, Muslim, and other ḥadīth compilers, ᶜUmar said to Abū Bakr: O Abu Bakr! How can you fight these people [tax-rejecters] although Allah’s Apostle said, ‘I have been ordered to fight the people till they say: ‘None has the right to be worshipped but Allah, ‘and whoever said, ‘None has the right to be worshipped but Allah’, Allah will save his property and his life from me, unless (he does something for which he receives legal punishment) justly, and his account will be with Allah? ‘Abu Bakr said, ‘By Allah! I will fight whoever differentiates between prayers and Zakat as Zakat is the right to be taken from property (according to Allah’s Orders). By Allah! If they refused to pay me even a kid they used to pay to Allah’s Apostle, I

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would fight with them for withholding it.’ ᶜUmar said, ‘By Allah: It was nothing, but I noticed that Allah opened Abu Bakr’s chest towards the decision to fight, therefore I realized that his decision was right.74

It is obvious that ᶜUmar initially rejected Abū Bakr’s decision, based on his understanding of prophetic tradition: He was convinced that Muhammad forbade fighting and killing fellow Muslims.75 This indicates how Abū Bakr’s decision violated a basic Muslim tenet.76 ᶜUmar was later convinced and accepted Abū Bakr’s decision. Apparently ᶜUmar was not convinced through a new understanding of a Qur’ānic or prophetic statement, but rather by “noticing” that “Allah opened Abū Bakr’s chest toward the decision to fight,” and therefore, ᶜUmar decided the Caliph’s decision was right.77 This shows how the weighty decision with such dramatic consequences was made. Not only was Abū Bakr’s decision neither convincing nor religiously supported, but ᶜUmar’s basis of support for Abū Bakr’s decision is also questionable, it was based on only a feeling. It is safe to assume that Abū Bakr was determined to fight the tax-rejecters, even though they were still Muslims.78 He claimed that they were apostates and deserved military suppression. While the companions were initially unsupportive of this decision, he swore, “By Allah, if they [the tax-rejecters] withhold from me a camel tether that they used to give to the Messenger of Allah, I will fight them for withholding it.”79 At Abū Bakr’s insistence, the companions yielded. The Caliph’s desire for both tax revenue and political support, not religious proclamation, motivated his fight against the tax-rejecters. This was not a religious motive. By so doing, he violated clear Muslim tenets, both Qur’ānic and prophetic. Ultimately, the opposition voiced by key companions suggests that the decision was hardly religiously legitimate.80 Fourth, the manner in which Abū Bakr’s troops treated the tax-rejecters clarifies the motivation for the Ridda Wars. Consider, for instance, Banū Dhubyān. According to al-Ṭabarī, in one of the early stages of the Ridda Wars, Abū Bakr was personally leading the troops fighting Banū Dhubyān. Although they affirmed Islam and wanted to keep the prayer, Abū Bakr fought them precisely for refusing to pay the zakat.81 He eventually won, and the victory was viewed as fa-hazam Allāh (Allah has beaten) them.82 Abū Bakr seized their lands and declared ḥarām ᶜalā Banū Dhubyān an yatamallakū (it is unlawful for the sons of Dhubyān to possess) these lands.83 He defended his actions by affirming that ghannamnāhā Allāh wa ajlāhā (Allah has truly given us [these lands] as spoils of wars, and evacuated it [for us]).84 Thus, Abū Bakr expelled the sons of Dhubyān from their lands because they refused to pay the taxes to Medina, although they were still Muslims and desired to remain in their religion. This incident depicts Abū Bakr as a keen leader, committed to advancing rule and securing resources. Ilyās Shūfānī (1932–2013) rightly

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observes that this was part of Abū Bakr’s commitment to the Meccan elites who brought him to power,85 because rebellious tax-rejecting tribes meant a huge loss of income from among the elites. There is hardly any textual evidence that he required Banū Dhubyān to repent and return to Islam. He fought them and seized their lands, and declared that Allah had given these lands to the “Muslims.”86 Banū Dhubyān were fellow Muslims, and some of them clearly submitted to Abū Bakr. After his victory over them as “apostates,” some of Banū Dhubyān returned to him and sought submission under Medinan rule. When they tried to return to their homes, they were prevented.87 When they went to Medina and sought the Caliph’s help, pleading for restoration of “their lands,” he stated laysat la-kum bi-bilād (they are not your lands [anymore]).88 This incident suggests that the Ridda Wars, even in their very early stages, were not driven by religious motivations to defend Islam or its tenets. Shūfānī rightly argues that the appointment of Abū Bakr as Caliph was a major factor in the rebellion against him and against the Muslim communit y at Medina, which led to the Ridda Wars.89 Abū Bakr fought those people who refused to pay taxes even though they declared they were Muslims.90 When they were ready to give in and submit to the Caliph in an attempt to restore their homes and lands, he refused and claimed these were not their property anymore. Fifth, to illustrate the possible motivation for the Ridda Wars, it is important to mention the reported treatment of the Muslim man Mālik ibn Nuwayra by the Muslim commander Khālid ibn al-Walīd.91 In a lengthy and remarkably ambiguous report, al-Ṭabarī documents the slaughter of Mālik, who was considered one of the tax-rejecters.92 When Mālik learned of Khālid’s achievements in battle, he ordered his people to return to the way they used to be with their leaders in Medina, because “they [Mālik and his people] did not succeed” in refraining from the zakat.93 Khālid raided the land of Mālik, and instructed his warriors to question the people as to whether they were Muslims: “if they accept ed paying the zakat they would be spared, and if they refused, then, they would be fought.”94 When Mālik and his people were summoned to appear before Khālid, some of the Muslims shahadū (testified) that Mālik and his people adhdhanū wa aqāmū al-ṣalāt (performed the call to prayer and the prayer as well).95 Among those who testified on behalf of Mālik as a practicing Muslim was Abū Qatāda, who was an anṣārī companion of Muhammad. However, some other Muslims provided differing testimonies about Mālik. Consequently, Khālid ordered that Mālik and his people be put into jail that night. The jail was extremely cold and, at some point in the night, Khālid ordered his warriors adfi’ū asrākum (make your prisoners warm), which his troops interpreted to mean “kill your prisoners.” This was reportedly not his intention, reports al-Ṭabarī, as he truly intended for his troops to make them warm.96 Upon Khālid’s orders, one of Khālid’s warriors, Ḍirrār ibn

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al-Azwar, killed Mālik.97 On the same day, Khālid slept with Mālik’s wife, Layla bint al-Minhāl.98 Al-Yaᶜqūbī describes a precise sequence of events: Khālid saw Mālik’s wife and liked her, murdered Mālik, and took Layla. These actions angered Khālid’s companion, Abū Qatāda, who swore he would no longer serve him.99 The incident of Mālik’s murder, as mentioned in classical Muslim accounts, suggests that Khālid’s motivation was neither religious zeal nor pious desire to protect or proclaim Islam, as many traditionalists may claim. According to Ibn Kathīr, Mālik clearly submitted to the leadership of Medina and was described as Muslim by a key companion of the prophet, Abū Qatāda.100 At the very least, there was no clear evidence that he was not Muslim. The sunnī Muslim Ibn Ḥajar includes Mālik in his list of ṣaḥāba (companions) and states that Khālid was unsure whether Mālik was an apostate when he was killed.101 Ibn al-Athīr, in his reports on the companions of Muhammad, reveals that Mālik lam yartadd (did not apostatize).102 Judging from these reports, Khālid ordered Mālik murdered and took his wife for himself without proof of Mālik’s apostasy.103 According to tradition, Khālid required that Mālik’s head should be cooked in a pot, from which Khālid ate, as he intended to scare the apostates in Arabia with this act.104 If these horrifying deeds are true, Khālid murdered Mālik unlawfully and married his wife illegitimately. There is textual evidence that he was not motivated by piety, as it is reported that he was eventually condemned by ᶜUmar ibn al-Khaṭṭāb, who affirmed that Khālid “killed a Muslim man and nazā (leaped upon or fornicated) with his wife.”105 In other words, the command er, like his Caliph, violated various religious decrees in order to achieve his political goals. According to various sources, Abū Bakr supported Khālid’s actions and did not reproach him, to such an extent that ᶜUmar questioned the Caliph’s behavior.106 The textual evidence does not support the contention that Khālid was defending Islam or affirming its tenets, as he is reported to have murdered Muslims who declared their desire to remain believers and submitted to the Medinan leadership.107 Sixth, the classical narrative suggests that not only the harsh treatment of the tax-rejecters, but also the way the Muslim troops treated the rest of the alleged apostates explain the initial motives behind the Ridda Wars. On this point, the term “apostates” refers not only to those who had quit Islam after being Muslims for some time, but also to those who followed false prophets instead of the Muslim Prophet. Concerning the so-called murtaddūn (apostates), according to al-Ṭabarī, Abū Bakr decreed he would spare them if they yielded, submitted, and returned to Islam, although this was not applied in various cases.108 Abū Bakr, moreover, decided to spare those who had never entered Islam (as they never believed in the first place).109 Those who did not return to Islam, however, were treated harshly: some were burnt, some were stoned or thrown down from mountains, or thrown down in deep-wells, others murdered and mutilated, and so forth.110 Not only were

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these kinds of killings applied, but the Muslim commanders also plundered places owned by the so-called apostates.111 According to al-Ṭabarī, some of the apostates returned to Islam, not because they were convinced, but merely to spare their lives, their wives, and children: aqarrū jamīᶜan bi-l-islām khishiyatan ᶜalā al-dharārī (they all affirmed Islam, as they feared for their children).112 Terrified by Khālid’s sword, some ittaqū Khālid bi-ṭilbatih wa istaḥaqqū al-amān (feared Khālid and [obeyed] his demand and deserved security).113 They wanted to avoid al-qatl wa saby al-nisā’ wa-l-dharārī (being killed and having their women and children taken captive).114 According to these accounts, the main motivation behind the apostates’ return to Islam was terror, not religious zeal. The Caliph and his commanders suppressed the apostates through military activity. Most of the so-called apostates were unarmed people forced to return to Islam or, perhaps more importantly, to submit to the Medinan leadership and show loyalty by paying the taxes. Were the Ridda Wars religiously motivated, one would expect the commanders and troops to show mercy and piety in their treatment of unarmed and repenting people. Instead, they threatened murder, torture, and kidnapping their women and children.

Usāma’s Expedition to Syria According to Muslim sources, one of the first decisions Abū Bakr made after assuming his role as Muhammad’ s successor was dispatching jaysh Usāma (the army of Usāma) to the Syrian frontier. This expedition serves as the transition between Muhammad’s maghāzī and Abū Bakr’s futūḥ, as Muhammad initially planned for it and assigned the 18–year old Usāma to lead it.115 Usāma ibn Zayd was the son of Muhammad’s former adopted son, Zayd ibn Ḥāritha. Muhammad, it seems, clearly aspired to reach out to northern Ḥijāz and beyond. This was not the first attempt to reach the Byzantine frontier. The Muslim traditions tell of various maghāzī during Muhammad’s time that targeted the southern frontier of Syria, such as Mu’ta (8/629), Dhāt al-Salāsil (8/629), and Tabūk (9/630).116 For the most part, the traditi on appears ambiguous and brief in explainin g that the Muslims were unsuccessful in these attempts during Muhammad’s time.117 Muhammad died before he could send out Usāma’s expedition,118 and Abū Bakr had to decide whether to halt or resume it.119 Concerning this expedition, the sunnī accounts depict Abū Bakr as a dedicated pious leader who carried out Muhammad’s plans by dispatching Usāma’s army to Syria.120 He did this despite the challenging circumstances which followed Muhammad’s death—external challenges, such as the so-called ḥurūb al-ridda,121 and internal ones conveyed by the refusal of many companions to participate in the expedition, especially from among the anṣār.122 Abū Bakr promptly sent Usāma’s

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expedition to Syria one day after Muhammad’s death.123 Al-Ṭabarī points out that ᶜUmar (an older and experienced companion) was one of the soldiers of Usāma’s army, and though Usāma was reluctant to lead for apparent reasons, Abū Bakr insisted.124 This was, according to al-Ṭabarī, the first conquest of Abū Bakr out of Medina.125 Once Usāma departed with the Muslim army, it is reported that the circumstances in the Peninsula became very challenging for the Medinan leadership: Irtaddat qabā’il al-ᶜarab (the Arabian tribes revolted), kafarat al-arḍ (the land apostatized), and Abū Bakr had to face the rebellious tribes such as ᶜIbs and Dhubiyān.126 Usāma’s expedition lasted for 40, 60, or 70 days.127 Although the historical accounts become vague here concerning the course of events and the results of Usāma’s military activity, the texts still insist that the expedition targeted al-Shām (Greater Syria) and that it did succeed. It seems that the classical Muslim histories, in their briefness and ambiguity, attempt to portray this expedition as a great success. Al-Ṭabarī, for instance, simply states that Usāma attacked various lands, the inhabitants kharajū hurūban (left and fled), and that Usāma returned sāliman ghāniman (safely with plenty of spoils).128 Ibn al-Athīr summarizes the entire expedition in one sentence: Abū Bakr instructed Usāma to follow the Prophet’s orders; consequently, Usāma departed and won over some people of Quḍāᶜa who were “apostates,”129 gained spoils of war , and returned to Medina after 40 or 70 days.130 Ibn Kathīr, like Ibn al-Athīr, writes briefly of this expedition, stating that the army of Usāma traveled between districts, inciting terror in the hearts of the Arabs until the Muslims returned safely with plenty of spoils.131 It appears, however, that Abū Bakr was waiting eagerly for the troops to return, as he desperately needed support to handle the rebellious tribes.132 Once Usāma’s army returned to Medina, Abū Bakr placed Usāma as the governor of Medina while he himself led the first military raid against the apostates in the Ridda Wars.133 In critically analyzing the classical reports of Usāma’s expedition to Syria, there are several points to make. This expedition is portrayed as the first fatḥ (conquest) to target the giant Byzantine Empire, but this is hard to believe. The brief and contradicting reports depict the expedition as a success, when in actuality it can be regarded as a failure. The reports do not refer to any encounter with the Byzantines. They tell of apostates suppressed, Arabs conquered, and Usāma returning with his army after gaining “victory” and plenty of booty. This cannot be viewed as a successful campaign against the Byzantines. For an expedition of about 40 or 70 days, there is no mention of any real battle against the people of al-Shām. The reports of this expedition are short and tendentiously ambiguous, as the expedition must have been a true embarrassment to the Medinan government. The tradition appears contradictory for at least two reasons. First, regarding Abū Bakr’s dispatch of the army only one day after Muhammad’ s death, the narrators desire to portray Abū Bakr as a devout leader who is following Muhammad’s plans.

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By emphasizing his motivation to fulfill Muhammad’s wishes and his insistence on sending the army despite obvious challenges, the narrators attempt to exalt Abū Bakr and justify his position as Muhammad’s successor.134 However, the shīᶜī historian al-Yaᶜqūbī writes only one short sentence about the expedition, with no mention of any confrontation with the Byzantines. This allows for the interpretation that Usāma’s expedition cannot be viewed as an important campaign against Byzantium. Second, the short and ambiguous reports on this expeditionsuggest that it was a true failure of the Muslims to reach the Byzantine frontier. The Muslim government in Medina was under great internal and external pressure, and thus it was not tactically wise to divide the military power by sending out an army presumably toward Syria. Although al-Ṭabarī considered it the first conquest, and Ibn al-Athīr and Ibn Kathīr report a successful campaign with plenty of spoils, this is not convincing. This expedition did not target the Byzantine frontier; it could be viewed as targeting the Arab tribes in northern Ḥijāz with Abū Bakr using it as part of his overall desire to suppress the riots among the rebellious Arabs, as in some reports it is linked to the Ridda Wars.135 In sum, although the classical narrators attempt to portray Abū Bakr as a pious leader following the footsteps of Muhammad in targeting Byzantium, their efforts fail as their reports are not only confused, short, and ambig uous, but also ten dentious and contradictory. Usāma’s expedition, contrary to the traditional interpretation, in all likelihood did not tar get the Byzantine Empire and thus never succeeded in its original mission as designed by Muhammad.

Khālid’s Expedition to Iraq Usāma’s expedition was not, however, the sole expedition sent out during Abū Bakr’s time, according to tradition. Khālid’s expedition to Iraq occurred almost a year later. The two expeditions, Usāma’s to Syria (11/632) and Khālid’s to Iraq (12/633), overlapped with the so-called Ridda Wars during Abū Bakr’s caliphate. These two undertakings targeted the northern Ḥijāz regions on the frontier with the Byzantine and Persian Empires and served as preliminary attempts to conquer the two giant empires. Khālid’s expedition to Iraq seems more successful than that of Usāma. In analyzing the motives behind this expedition, it is important to examine the classical Muslim sources before providing critical observations. Abū Bakr, according to al-Ṭabarī, wajjah Khālid ibn al-Walīd ilā arḍ al-Kūfa (directed Khālid ibn al-Walīd to the land of Kūfa).136 This report underscores Abū Bakr’s initiative in sending his skillful commander Khālid, who suppressed various riots among the Arabs, to the Iraqi frontier.137 Al-Yaᶜqūbī states that Abū Bakr “ordered Khālid to march to Iraq.”138 Ibn al-Athīr considers this expedition as a part of Khālid’s campaigns in the Ridda Wars, as he writes that Abū Bakr

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contacted Khālid (while he was fighting the “apostates”) in Yamāma “ordering him to march to Iraq.”139 Ibn Kathīr explains that after Khālid won over the tribes at Yamāma, the Caliph instructed him “to march to Iraq.”140 It appears, therefore, that this expedition served as a transition between the Ridda Wars and the early conquests. Unlike Usāma’s, Khālid’s expedition is regarded as successful. Yet, was it motivated by a desire to proclaim the Muslim faith, as traditionalists may argue? That is doubtful. Khālid marched to various Persian lands including al-Baṣra, al-Kūfa, al-Ḥīra, and al-Anbār; in some lands, the people surrendered, while others were conquered through peace treaties for the jizya (tribute).141 The inhabitants of the conquered lands were offered three choices, al-islām, al-jizya, al-qitāl (embrace Islam or pay the tribute or fight).142 When describing the expedition, al-Yaᶜqūbī states that Khālid roamed the land and, upon reaching each city, conquered it and captured its people. When he faced a king of al-aᶜājim (the non-Arabs), Khālid hazamah wa qatalah (defeated and killed him).143 Al-Ṭabarī, in a lengthier account, provides detailed reports of the various encounters between Khālid and several Persian cities and leaders.144 It appears that little fighting was needed to convince the inhabitants to negotiate; peace was offered from the Muslims in return for the jizya (tribute). This tribute was the first tribute sent to Medina from Iraq.145 The summary of this expedition, according to al-Ṭabarī, is: [Khālid] came to the Anbār and in return for peace they were evacuated [from their lands] … [then he] aghār (raided) Sūq Baghdād … and attacked Sūq Quḍāᶜa … and aṣāb mā fī al-sūq (plundered what was in it) … then he marched to ᶜAyn al-Tamr and conquered it by force and qatal wa sabā (he murdered and took [people] captive), sending the captives to Abū Bakr … and marched to Dūmat al-Jandal and killed Ukaydar and took his son captive.146

This summary describes Khālid traveling the Persian southwestern frontier, plundering lands and oppressing the people.147 Contrary to the common traditional Muslim views,148 it suggests that Khālid was concerned with political advancement and securing adequate resources for the Medinan capital, through the collecting of the jizya and sending captives to Abū Bakr’s government. When analyzing Khālid’s expedition to Iraq critically, there are three important points to consider. First, to assess this expedition correctly, in my interpretation, it should be viewed as a part of the Ridda Wars.149 In classical sources, the goals of this expedition and its initial motivations were linked to those of the Ridda Wars. Abū Bakr originally directed his commanders to fight the tax-rejecters and rebels, aiming to secure power and economic resources. Muslim commanders, such as Khālid, fought to achieve such goals. After suppressing the rebellion of the Ridda, and under the instruction of Abū Bakr, Khālid proceeded northward to

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secure more land, gain more power, and collect more resources. Al-Ṭabarī states that Abū Bakr “directed” Khālid to Iraq, while al-Yaᶜqūbī writes that the Caliph “ordered” him.150 These statements imply determination to continue securing the Muslim lands by subduing the northeastern parts of Arabia, which were inhabited by Arabs, mostly naṣārā (Christians).151 After the successful campaigns led by Khālid in Najd and al-Yamāma to suppress the riots, the prevailing classical sources have Abū Bakr instructing him to continue northward to secure the northeastern parts of Arabia. It appears that Abū Bakr was focused on securing the territories, rather than sending out religious messengers to southern Iraq. This is a reasonable motivation for the launching of the expedition to Iraq. Moreover, Khālid was strategic in his decision to stop proceeding into the Persian Empire, as he realized his army of less than 10,000 soldiers would not be able to win.152 If the expedition were mainly for religious purposes, one may assume, he could have proceeded into the Persian Empire to proclaim his message. Some traditionalists may still claim that this expedition was for religiou s reasons, to convert the Arabs in northern Arabia, but such an argument does not hold up.153 Khālid’s reported acts—evacuating people from their lands, plundering their resources, murdering unarmed tribesmen, sending the captives to Medina, and forcing conquered people to pay the jizya—hardly seem to reflect a proclamation of a religious message. The textual evidence suggests that expedition is better viewed as driven by power concerns and economic interests. The modern Muslim author ᶜAbd al-Karīm, relying on Muslim tradition, argues that during the conquests the Arab commanders were lustful for economic gain, as they lived with scarce economic resources prior the conquests.154 He calls attention to the brutal actions against the conquered people, such as seizing family members, invasion, then killing every inhabitant, whether man or woman or child, and plundering their possessions; thus, he wonders, “How could such actions be considered as actions for the sake of guiding the conquered people to worship Allah?”155 Nevertheless, some traditionalists may still argue that Khālid offered the conquered inhabitants the choice of Islam, which suggests a religious motivation. Indeed, it is reported that Khālid appears to have done so, yet this does not prove exclusively that he was religiously motivated, as embracing Islam served primarily as a sign of loyalty and solidarity between the conquered people and the conquering armies.156 It does, however, affirm that Khālid was mainly concerned with ensuring their allegiance to the Muslim government in Medina.157 It is not known whether any of the raided cities or people accepted Islam. In any event, accepting Islam could have been mainly a matter of desiring peace as an alternative to qitāl shadīd (severe fighting).158 Second, this expedition is better viewed as an early limited campaign to Iraq159 for political security (in addition to economic gain), with the major goal of securing

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the northeastern border of Arabia with the southwestern Persian frontier, aiming at moving quickly westward toward Syria. This is reflected in a report by al-Ṭabarī, in which Abū Bakr instructed Khālid to “pass by Iraq” on his way to Syria, as if Syria were the main target.160 Proceeding into Persia would have been suicidal. Khālid was thinking tactically, politically, and strategically, rather than religiously. One example from the classical Muslim sources should suffice to make this point. When Khālid attacked al-Ḥīra, he settled with receiving the jizya from its inhabitants, as long as they were willing to yakūnū la-h ᶜuyūnan (be spies for his sake).161 He was mainly concerned with their loyalty, rather than their religious beliefs. As long as they were loyal politically and supportive economically (through the jizya), he was satisfied. He, in turn, used their several ḥuṣūn (fortresses) to establish a strong base of protection for the Muslims on the Persian frontier.162 By doing so, Khālid was strategically astute, as he established a garrison in a believing community consisting of Muslims and local Arab allies (most likely Christians) under the leadership of Muthannā ibn Ḥāritha.163 The religion of the allies does not appear to have caused any security issues. Khālid desired to maintain power and establish a political stronghold in northeastern Arabia, and he did so. Third, clearly the State of Medina needed to secure its frontiers and safeguard the integrity of the trade routes on which its economy depended. The next logical step, considering its newfound power and influence within Arabia after the Ridda Wars, was to extend its reach into the north, where theArabian tribes stretched into Syria.164 This military incursion was not only possible, but would also consolidate its military power and yield substantial economic resources. While the traditional approach refuses such analysis and insists that this and all the conquests were for the sake of Allah to proclaim a faith-based message, the extant Muslim sources give no such indication.

The Conquest of Syria The conquest of Syria began during Abū Bakr’s caliphate period (r. 11/632– 13/634), yet he died before it was finished. After various attempts by Muhammad and his commanders to reach Syria to assert some sort of control over the Byzan tine frontier, the time seems to have come for the Muslim armies to march tobilād al-Shām (Greater Syria).165 To analyze the Muslim traditions concerning what motivated fatḥ al-Shām (the conquest of Syria), there are three necessary steps. First, I will examine in detail the historical accounts of al-Azdī al-Baṣrī (d. ca. 165/781), al-Wāqidī (d. ca. 207/823), al-Balādhurī, (d. ca. 279/892), al-Yaᶜqūbī (d. 248/897), al-Ṭabarī (d. 310/923), and others, focusing on how they depict the reasons motivating the conquests. I will not examine in detail the course of events of

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the various battles. I will not concern myself with the apparent contradictions and discrepancies in the sources. This section will mainly examine what the historical accounts claim concerning Abū Bakr’s motivations for launching the conquest— that is my first concern. Second, I will test critically the traditional hypothesis, which argues this conquest was a legitimate war for the sake of proclaiming the Muslim faith, liberating the conquered lands from the darkness of unbelief through Islam’s light, or that this conquest was for self-defense.166 In testing the traditional Muslim claim, I will provide five critical observations. Third, I will offer a conclusion, before moving on to analyze fatḥ Miṣr (the conquest of Egypt).

Al-Azdī al-Baṣrī (d. ca. 165/781) Al-Azdī’s Kitāb futūḥ al-Shām is one of the earliest extant accounts of the con quest of Syria.167 The author begins the account by stating: arād Abū Bakr an yujahhiz al-junūd ilā al-Shām (Abū Bakr wanted to prepare the soldiers to [march to] al-Shām).168 This statement reflects the Caliph’s desire to equip an army for a confrontation with the Byzantines. He gathered several notable ṣaḥāba (companions), in addition to wujūh al-muhājirīn wa-l-anṣār (the illustrious [people] from among the Emigrants and Supporters) in order to convey his desire.169 After voicing several religious statements praising Allah and listing his abundant favors, Abū Bakr reportedly stated: al-ᶜarab banū ummin wa abbin wa qad aradt an astanfirahum ilā al-Rūm bi-l-Shām (the Arabs [are] the sons of [one] mother and father, and I wanted to mobilize them [to march] to the Byzantines in Syria).170 Abū Bakr’s reasoning was that man halak minhum halak shahīdan … wa man ᶜāsh minhum ᶜāsh mudāfiᶜan ᶜan al-dīn (whoever died would be a martyr … and whoever survived would be living defending the religion).171 Most of the ṣaḥāba agreed and supported Abū Bakr in his plans,172 although some were reluctant, as they feared the strength and number of the Byzantines.173 With the support he received from illustrious companions, muhājirūn and anṣār, Abū Bakr summoned the Believers to give a speech to announce his mission to ghazwu al-Rūm (invade the Byzantines): “O people, Allah anᶜam (blessed you) with Islam, aᶜazakum (made you strong) through jihad, and faḍḍalakum (favored you) by this religion above all other religions.”174 Revealing the reason for gathering them, he said: fa-tajahhazū ᶜibād Allāh ilā ghazw al-Rūm bi-l-Shām (get ready, O servants of Allah, to invade the Byzantines in Syria).175 When they heard Abū Bakr’s speech, they were reluctant: fa-sakat al-nās … mā ajābah aḥad haybatan li-ghazw al-Rūm (they were silent … no one responded, as they were intimidated to invade the Byzantines).176 However, ᶜUmar ibn al-Khaṭṭāb and some other companions exhorted them to go forth and act upon Abū Bakr’s calling. And yet, after the Muslims prepared the greatest number of soldiers they could, the fighting force

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seemed too small. Abū Bakr, while checking the soldiers and their readiness, realized that, although they seemed prepared, their number was not adequate to con front the Rūm. ᶜUmar and several companions thought the same.177 Consequently, Abū Bakr decided to send letters to ahl al-Yaman (the people of Yemen), “calling them to jihad, and encouraging them concerning its reward.”178 The letter of Abū Bakr to the people of Yemen, seeking to exhort them to conquest, conveys his motives for conquering Syria and how he regarded the war with the Byzantines. In his letter, he quotes from the Qur’ān to demonstrate the necessity and ur gency of jihad, which in this context means waging war with a holy purpose, stating that, Allāh katab ᶜalā al-mu’minīn al-jihād (Allah has prescribed the jihad for Believers). The letter also stresses that Allah, in his holy word, instructs the Muslims an yanfurū (to go forth) to the battlefield, whether they are equipped lightly or heavily; they should be ready an yujāhidū (to [fulfill the] jihad) with their possessions and their souls fī sabīl Allāh (in Allah’s path).179 To encourage the people of Yemen to join the war, the letter also includes two ḥusnayayn (desirable rewards) for the Muslims who fight: martyrdom or fatḥ wa ghanīma (victory plus spoils of war).180 Abū Bakr, in other words, motivated the people of Yemen with booty instead of merely religious duty. Additionally, in what seems to threaten those who do not respond to Allah’s calling for jihad, Abū Bakr’s letter warns that Allah is not pleased by the mere words of the Believers, but rather by their deeds—Allah would never let go of his enemies “until they embrace the religion of truth, concede the rule of the Book (the Qur’ān), or [otherwise] they pay the tribute willingly and humiliated.”181 According to al-Azdī, when the people of Yemen received this letter, they were willing and ready to fulfill their duty in jihād al-mushrikīn (the jihad against the polytheists [of Byzantium]).182 Further, in what seems to be a religious affirmation of the legitimacy of the conquest, al-Azdī provides an account of a ru’yā (vision) given by Allah to Shuraḥbīl ibn Ḥasana, one of the ṣaḥāba, while the troops were being prepared to march to Syria. In his vision, Shuraḥbīl saw the victory of the Muslims against the naṣārā (Christians) of the Byzantines, specifically because of the divine support Allah gave to “Abū Bakr’s troops.”183 By this point in al-Azdī’s reports, the troops were ready to march to Syria.

Al-Wāqidī (d. ca. 207/823) Like al-Azdī al-Baṣrī, al-Wāqidī (or better, pseudo-Wāqidī) begins his account by highlighting the historical context within which the notion of “preparingarmies to conquer Syria” was first addressed by Abū Bakr.184 After finishing the task of the Ridda Wars, Abū Bakr ᶜazam an yabᶜath jayshah ilā al-Shām wa ṣaraf wajhah

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li-qitāl al-Rūm (intended to send his army to Syria and focused his attention on fighting the Byzantines). Consequently, he summoned aṣḥāb rasūl Allāh (the companions of the messenger of Allah) in a mosque, intending to give a speech.185 Abū Bakr began by affirming that the Prophet had long desired to focus his attention on directing the Muslims to Syria, but he died suddenly.186 Quoting the Qur’ān and some prophetic aḥādīth, Abū Bakr affirmed that Allah favored the Muslims, unifying them as ummat Muḥammad (the community of Muhammad) by bringing them to Islam. He then declared, anā ᶜāzim an uwajjih abṭāl al-muslimīn ilā al-Shām (I determined to direct the champions of the Muslims to [march to] Syria).187 He explained that he was fulfilling the desire of the Prophet, who had foretold the future victory against al-Rūm (the Byzantines) based on a vision given by Allah to Muhammad. In the vision, Allah brought together the eastern and western ends of the earth for the Prophet’s sake, which meant that the dominion of Muhammad’s umma would reach the ends of the earth.188 The response to Abū Bakr’s speech was compelling, as the companions declared, yā khalīfat rasūl Allāh murnā bi-amrik wa wajjihnā ḥayth shi’t (O Caliph [or successor] of the messenger of Allah, you instruct us of whatsoever, you lead and direct us wherever you want). The companions explained the reason for their obedience, voicing the Qur’ānic verse instructing them: “O believers, obey God, and obey the Messenger and those in authority among you” (Q 4:59).189 Al-Wāqidī observes that Abū Bakr rejoiced because of such an enthusiastic and wholehearted response from the companions. Consequently, he wrote letters to the kings of Yemen and the people of Mecca, stating that qad ᶜazamt an uwajjihakum ilā bilād al-Shām li-ta’khudhuhā min aydī al-kuffār wa-l-ṭughāt (I determined to direct you to Syria, [for you] to take it from the hands of the infidels and the tyrants). He then called upon the Believers “to obey Allah by getting ready for a jihad and confrontation with the Rūm in bilād al-Shām.”190 The author points out that the Arab tribes of Yemen showed willingness, responding with joy to Abū Bakr’s letter, saying “in obedience to Allah and his messenger,” and they began their preparation for conquering bilād al-Shām.191 It is noteworthy to mention that as the troops began to march to Syria, the commander Yazīd ibn Abī Sufyān (one of the first to be called by Abū Bakr to lead a 1000–warrior army) is reported to have shown an obvious hastiness. Yazīd’s warriors revealed that they were stressed because of their commander’s rashness, especially since it conflicted with Abū Bakr’s command. When the soldiers asked Yazīd about the reason for his hastiness, Yazīd tipped his hand, stating “I wanted to get ahead of the others to conquer Syria, hoping to conquer before the rest of the people arrived so that there would be three benefits: the riḍā’ (favor) of Allah, the favor of the Caliph, and ghanīma na’khudhuhā (the gaining of booty).”192 This reassured the troops such that they were ready to march to Syria.

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Al-Balādhurī (d. ca. 279/892) If al-Wāqidī began his account by highlighting the historical context, al-Balādhurī begins by emphasizing the determination of Abū Bakr: “When Abū Bakr was done with the case of those who apostatized, he saw fit to direct his troops against Syria.”193 He wrote to the people of Mecca, Ṭā’if, Yemen, and all the Arabs in Najd and the Ḥijaz, yastanfirahum al-jihād wa yuraghghibahum fī-h wa fī ghanā’im al-Rūm (mobilizing them for the jihad, stirring [their hearts] in it and in the spoils of war from the Byzantines).194 Consequently, the Believers hurried to Abū Bakr at Medina, bayn muḥtasibin wa ṭāmiᶜin (some sought divine rewards while others were greedy).195 Abū Bakr appointed three commanders: Khālid ibn Saᶜīd ibn al-ᶜĀṣ, Shuraḥbīl ibn Ḥasana, and ᶜAmr ibn al-ᶜĀṣ.196 ᶜUmar was displeased with the choice of Khālid ibn Saᶜīd and convinced Abū Bakr to replace Khālid with ᶜArwā, who was then replaced by Yazīd ibn Abī Sufyān “who left, with his brother Muᶜāwiyah, carrying the banner before him.”197 Al-Balādhurī writes that, according to earlier reports by al-Wāqidī, Abū Bakr assigned ᶜAmr to Palestine, Shuraḥbīl to Jordan, and Yazīd to Damascus.198 When ᶜAmr ibn al-ᶜĀṣ arrived in Palestine he was shocked by the great number of the Byzantines and their enthusiasm, so he sent asking Abū Bakr for reinforcement. In response, the Caliph instructed Khālid ibn al-Walīd to march to Syria from Iraq. The reports are contradictory as to whether Abū Bakr made Khālid a commander-in-chief of the entire army at that time.199 According to al-Balādhurī, the first confrontation between the Muslims and Byzantines was in a village in Ghazza called Dāthin.200 In this battle, the Muslims fought baṭrīq al-Rūm (the patrician of the Byzantines, a leader of an army), and after a severe confrontation, it is reported that Allāh aẓhar awliyā’ah wa hazam aᶜdā’ah (Allah made his companions victorious, and defeated his enemies).201 This statement reflects the classical Muslim interpretation of the victory at Dāthin, suggesting the religious understanding of not only this victory, but also what motivated the battle in the first place. After Dāthin, the Believers marched to al-ᶜAraba in Palestine, and the Muslim commander awqaᶜ bi-him wa qatal ᶜaẓīmahum (trapped [his enemies] and killed their notable [patrician]), and proceeded to al-Dubbiya, where he hazamahum wa ghanam al-Muslimūn ghunman ḥasanan (defeated them, and the Muslims gained great spoils).202 Al-Balādhurī then devotes a specific section to describe the advancement of Khālid ibn al-Walīd in Syria and the places that he conquered; some were conquered ᶜanwa (by force) and others ṣulḥan (peacefully).203 In describing Khālid’s military activity in some parts of Syria, al-Balādhurī writes that Khālid ẓafar … fa-hazamahum wa sabā wa ghanam wa baᶜath bi-l-saby ilā Abī Bakr (won [great victory] … defeated them, took people captive, gained booty, and sent the captives to Abū Bakr). In another report, Khālid marched in the wide desert lands,

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aghār (raided) on water springs in Qurāqir and Suwā, murdered the people there, and iktasaḥ amwālahum (swept away all their properties or possessions).204 When Khālid’s army arrived in Suwā, there were some men drinking and singing, including a man called Ḥurqūṣ. The Muslims, according to al-Balādhurī, killed Ḥurqūṣ and “his blood flowed into the basin from which he had been drinking; and some report that his head, too, fell therein.”205 As the army marched on, Khālid ẓafar wa ghanam … sabā wa qatal (conquered and gained booty … took people captive and murdered others).206 As al-Balādhurī’s account of fatḥ al-Shām proceeds, similar reports of raiding and marauding are described. There is no mention of faith proclamation by Khālid or any of his army. The narrative reports focus on the victory achieved and the abundance of booty the Muslim armies received.

Al-Yaᶜqūbī (d. 248/897) and al-Ṭabarī (d. 310/923) Al-Yaᶜqūbī states that arād Abū Bakr an yaghzū al-Rūm (Abū Bakr wanted to invade the Byzantines).207 Al-Ṭabarī observes that in A.H. 13, wajjah Abū Bakr al-juyūsh ilā al-Shām (Abū Bakr directed the armies to Syria).208 Al-Yaᶜqūbī notes that Abū Bakr summoned the Muslims, told them of his desire, and amarahum (instructed them) to prepare to march to Syria, but they were silent in reluctance, although the decision was supported by ᶜAlī and ᶜUmar.209 In an attempt to moti vate the silent Muslims to respond to Abū Bakr’s initiative, ᶜUmar said, law kān gharaḍan qarīban wa safaran qāṣidan l-antadabtumūh (if it were for a near purpose or pleasant travel, you would have willingly given yourselves to it).210 This statement appears to have angered some Muslims, such as ᶜAmr ibn Saᶜīd, because they realized that ᶜUmar was accusing them of cowardice and hypocrisy. ᶜAmr ibn Saᶜīd said to ᶜUmar: “you are portraying us as hypocrites; why do not you go yourself to do what you desire us to do [marching to war]?”211 This report by al-Yaᶜqūbī is enlightening, as it shows not only hesitancy among the Believers, but also their certainty that an initiative to fight the Byzantines was suicidal. Perhaps more importantly, it proves that some of the companions disagreed with Abū Bakr’s decision to march to Syria, and they were therefore accused of being “less religious.” In this case, political advancement was justified by a religious notion: if someone goes to war, they are more religious than someone who refuses. ᶜAmr ibn Saᶜīd’s brother, Khālid, is reported to have silenced his brother and affirmed their obedience to Abū Bakr; consequently, the Caliph rewarded Khālid ibn Saᶜīd by installing him as a commander of the army.212 ᶜUmar disapproved of this choice and reminded Abū Bakr of Khālid ibn Saᶜīd’s reluctance to give the Caliph an oath of allegiance. Abū Bakr followed ᶜUmar’s advice, dismissed Khālid, and appointed Yazīd, Abū ᶜUbayda, Shuraḥbīl, and ᶜAmr ibn al-ᶜĀṣ.213 It is noteworthy to mention that, according to al-Ṭabarī, ᶜUmar was unable to influence Abū Bakr’s decision in

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a similar situation, i.e., when ᶜUmar requested the dismissal of Khālid ibn al-Walīd due to his behavior. In this instance, Abū Bakr refused, and instead sent Khālid from Irāq to Syria in response to the gathered armies request for reinforcements.214 When Khālid ibn al-Walīd joined the Muslims marching to Syria, they rejoiced.215 According to al-Yaᶜqūbī, the Byzantine armies outnumbered the Muslim troops, and the Muslim commander Abū ᶜUbayda wrote to Abū Bakr informing him of iqbāl malik al-Rūm fī khalq ᶜaẓīm (the arrival of the Byzantine king with a great multitude [of soldiers]).216 Al-Ṭabarī states that there were 240,000 Byzantines and only 36,000 Muslims (or 46,000 after the reinforcement).217 He writes as though the Muslim commanders disagreed amongst themselves, reporting that ᶜAmr ibn al-ᶜĀṣ and Yazīd refused to pray with Abū ᶜUbayda and Shuraḥbīl,218 which caused Khālid to suggest that they needed to unify.219 Before the battle at al-Yarmūk began, al-Ṭabarī observes, news spread among the Muslim warriors that Abū Bakr died at Medina and that ᶜUmar had become the Caliph.220 One of the first decisions ᶜUmar made, according to al-Ṭabarī, was ᶜazl (the dismissal) of Khālid ibn al-Walīd, replacing him with Abū ᶜUbayda.221 While Abū Bakr supported Khālid as a unique commander, ᶜUmar appears to have disliked him even before becoming Caliph. He took the first opportunity to dismiss him. Khālid, likewise, appears to have despised ᶜUmar: ḥasadanī an yakūn fatḥ al-ᶜIrāq ᶜalā yadī (he [ᶜUmar] envied me, lest the conquering of Iraq be credited to me).222 The first city conquered in Syria was Buṣrā, which occurred when Khālid arrived to reinforce the armies of Abū ᶜUbayda, Shuraḥbīl, and Yazīd.223 Al-Ṭabarī testifies to the important role Khālid and his 9,000 soldiers played in conquering this city.224 The conquered people received ṣulḥan ᶜalā al-jizya (peace in return for their paying the jizya).225 After the successful campaign at Buṣra, all the commanders marched to support ᶜAmr ibn al-ᶜĀṣ in Palestine, which led to the battle at Ajnādayn.226

Critical Observations on the Motivations for Futūḥ al-Shām On the basis of the above survey of the historiographical narrative of the conquest of Syria, here I provide five critical observations on futūḥ al-Shām: (1) the stated motivation of Abū Bakr, (2) the possible violation of the Qur’ān, (3) the reported deeds of some commanders, (4) the three options reportedly given to the conquered people, and (5) the apparent conspiracy behind Abū Bakr’s death and burial. These five observations, I maintain, will demonstrate that, contrary to the traditional Muslim hypothesis, the conquest of Syria is more accurately viewed as a military operation initiated by the Arab armies for political advancement and economic gain, rather than religious proclamation.

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The Stated Motivation of Abū Bakr First, regarding the stated motivation for this specific conquest, the sources agree that it was Abū Bakr’s desire to launch this conquest: “Abū Bakr wanted to prepare the soldiers,” “intended to send his army to Syria,” “focused his attention on fighting the Byzantines,” “saw fit to direct his troops against Syria,” “wanted to invade al-Rūm,” and “directed the armies to Syria.” These phrases express Abū Bakr’s determination and focused attention on launching the expedition. Because the Byzantine Empire did not initially wage a war against the newly founded Medinan community, this expedition could not have been an act of self-defense. To argue that this was an act of self-defense is argumentum ex silentio. Although Islam as a religion—whatever that really meant for that early period—served as the unifying factor within the army (as opposed to merely tribal and social bonds), an attempt to claim that the conquest was driven by a desire to proclaim Islam or defend the umma is not factual.227 After the successful cam paigns of the Ridda Wars and the consolidation of power over most of Arabia, the Arab armies sought political advancement and greater economic gain instead of converts.228 However, some classical Muslim sources, in an attempt to suggest a religious motive for futūḥ al-Shām, describe a divine vision seen by Muhammad or one of his companions, specifically Shuraḥbīl ibn Ḥasana. For several reasons, I argue that these “divine interventions,” which are embedded in historiographical reports, do not support the notion of a religiously motivated conquest. Instead, they most likely serve as a later attempt by the Muslim authors (who wrote centuries after the events) to portray a religiously appealing picture of a divinely guided leader motivated by a sincere desire to fulfill and apply Muhammad’s wish.229 While al-Azdī and al-Wāqidī both mention divine visions that encouraged Abū Bakr in his military pursuit, they disagree on the content of these visions and the particular person who witnessed them. It is essential to examine these two cases, to determine whether they affirm a religious motivation behind the conquest regardless of whether the visions actually occurred. In al-Azdī’s account of Shuraḥbīl’s vision, Shuraḥbīl foresaw the victory of the Muslims over the Christians of the Byzantine Empire. According to al-Azdī, Shuraḥbīl saw this vision when the armies of Abū Bakr were already prepared and ready to march to Syria. Because Abū Bakr was already determined to launch the conquest, Shuraḥbīl’s vision cannot be seen as providing religious motivation for the launch. Like Shuraḥbīl’s, al-Waqidi’s account of a divine vision cannot be taken as proof of religious motivation. This is partially due to doubts concerning the authenticity of al-Wāqidī’s work,230 but also—and perhaps more importantly—because al-Wāqidī’s account clearly states the intentions of Abū Bakr prior to mentioning this vision: “After finishing the task of the Ridda Wars Abū Bakr intended to send his army to Syria and focused his attention on fighting the Byzantines.” He then

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summoned the companions and told them of his desire to launch this conquest. The description of Muhammad’s vision came after Abū Bakr already “intended” and “was determined” to conquer Syria. The classical Muslim sources in this context provide evidence that the political hegemony gained by the Medinan government during the Ridda Wars motivated the Caliph to seek even more dominion and economic gain.231 Consequently, he attempted to convince the companions to join him in his pursuit. Because he would need support to fight the Byzantines, he sent for the Arabs in Yemen and other regions in Arabia, and described various religious visions and prophetic aḥādīth. While it is uncertain whether the statements attributed to Abū Bakr are accurate or were forged by later writers to paint a religious picture, the weight of textual evidence does not support a religiously driven campaign to Syria for the proclamation of faith or for liberating non-Muslim lands from polytheism. Rather, the Conquest of Syria is better viewed as a political strategy following the successful consolidation during the Ridda Wars.232

The Possible Violation of the Qur’ān I argue that the conquest of Syria cannot be considered religiously motivated because it appears to have violated basic, clear, and specific Qur’ānic statements. While the traditional Muslim approach, and even the general Muslim interpretation, calls it futūḥ (implying liberation and opening cities to the light of Islam), the conquest of Syria as portrayed in the Muslim sources seems to have been an offensive war against innocent people who never initiated attacks against their Muslim conquerors.233 For this reason, the conquest cannot be supported by the Qur’ān. Consider the various instances of military forces attacking unarmed tribesmen or village people, such as the incident of Ḥurqūṣ of Suwā mentioned above. Ḥurqūṣ and his people were unarmed, and they did not attack the Muslims; however, they were murdered. The Qur’ān states: “And fight in the way of God with those; who fight with you, but aggress [i.e., attack] not: God loves not the aggressors [attackers]” (Q 2:190). This verse seems to allow for war only in self-defense, and forbid both initiating attacks and aggressing them. Attacking unarmed people by military forces cannot be justified by the Qur’ān. The Muslim armies, according to this verse, must be considered to have violated the Qur’ān. While classical, modern, and contemporary Muslim authors may use post-Qur’ānic doctrines such as abrogation to interpret this verse differently, Khālid and the commanders would not have known of such doctrines. According to the sunnī tradition, there was not a written Qur’ān at the time; it was memorized in the hearts of the Believers. Judging by the Qur’ān alone, there was a severe violation of sacred Islamic commands. Furthermore, the Qur’ān also states: “God forbids you not, as regards

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those who have not fought you in religion’s cause, nor expelled you from your habitations, that you should be kindly to them, and act justly towards them; surely God loves the just” (Q 60:8). The verse instructs the Believers to treat kindly those who have not waged war against them because of religion, requiring the faithful to treat those who did not force them into exile with justice. This is the opposite of what occurred in futūḥ al-Shām, according to Muslim accounts. The conquest began by fighting innocent tribesmen living on the Byzantine frontier, then proceeded into the settled lands; in both cases the Believers initiated the attack.234 While the Byzantine troops in the settled lands were ready to fight the Muslims (despite not having initiated the conflict), the indigenous tribesmen were not. How could the conquest of Syria be viewed as a defensive war? How could the attacking of unarmed men and women be viewed as defending the Muslim government at Medina? This is not supported by the textual evidence. Moreover, consider the possible violation of the Qur’ān’s commands regarding the Sacred Months. According to the Qur’ān, there are four sacred months (Q 9:36), during which fighting is forbidden.235 It should be noted that since one of the earliest maghāzī violated one of the months, 236 there is contention as to whether the sanctity of these months should be observed. While it could be argued that Islam erased many of the tribal customs, there are five verses in the Qur’ān regarding the Sacred Months (Q 2:194; 9:2; 9:5; 9:36; and 9:37). These verses are commonly believed to originate from later Medinan revelation. They indicate that, out of the twelve months in a year, four are sacred. During these months, believers are commanded not to attack, although they may meet aggression with an equivalent response. After the Sacred Months are past, Muslims may fight. According to al-Ṭabarī, Abū Bakr ruled for approximately 27 months.237 During that period, the Muslim expeditions did not cease. The early Muslim sources do not mention any reverence for the Sacred Months. They report that Abū Bakr directed Khālid to al-Kūfa and al-Baṣra in A.H. 12 during the sacred month of Muḥarram.238 Khālid also led the battle of Faḥl against the Byzantines in A.H. 13 in Dhū al-Qaᶜda.239 Even ᶜUmar was camping, preparing for battle in Muḥarram in A.H. 14.240 The Qur’ān reads, “The holy month for the holy month; holy things demand retaliation” (Q 2:194), and “the number of the months, with God, is twelve in the Book of God, the day that He created the heavens and the earth; four of them are sacred. That is the right religion. So wrong not each other during them” (Q 9:36). These verses, among others, must be reinterpreted in order to allow Muslims to fight throughout the year in violation of the sanctity of four specific months. In the Muslim narratives, we find one military campaign after another, beginning with the Ridda Wars followed by an expedition to Iraq, then a march against Syria. Because there is no evidence of observing the Sacred Months, one can assume the continuous fighting violated both the Arab tribal agreements and Islam’s scripture.

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The Reported Deeds of Some Commanders In addition to Abū Bakr’s stated motivation and the clear disregard for the Qur’ān, the reported actions of some of the commanders, including Yazīd ibn Abī Sufyān and Khālid ibn al-Walīd, give overwhelming textual evidence that the conquest was not primarily motivated by religion. Al-Wāqidī observes that Yazīd rushed his army to reach Syria before all other commanders and troops, to the extent that his fighters complained. Was he rushing out of eagerness to bring the new faith to those living in darkness among the Byzantines, as traditional interpretations suggest? The answer, according to al-Wāqidī, is negative. Yazīd declared he wanted to be the first to reach Syria to obtain “the favor of Allah, the favor of the Caliph, and the spoils of war.”241 Although this statement suggests that there were three motivating factors driving the commander, it seems likely that he was most strongly motivated by the spoils of war, as they would be the only advantage not available to those who arrived later. The favor of Allah and his Caliph would presumably extend to all who participated in the war, regardless of their arrival order to the battleground. The Muslim commander, one of the first to be appointed as a leader in this conquest, was not motivated by the desire to spread Islam. Yazīd desired wealth. The case of Khālid ibn al-Walīd differs greatly. The reports of Khālid’s military activity in Syria are similar to those he undertook in Iraq.242 According to al-Balādhurī, Khālid won great victories, defeated people, captured prisoners of war, acquired booty, and sent the captives to Abū Bakr. He also raided the water springs of several settlements, sweeping away their possessions, plundering their lands, and smiting people’s necks.243 These incidents reflect a military incursion launched against unarmed people for economic reasons. The incident of Suwā includes mention of the commander’s brutal behavior, that is, he murdered a notable citizen, Ḥurqūṣ, whose “blood flowed into the basin from which he had been drinking; and some report that his head, too, fell therein.”244 There is no reference in the Muslim accounts to any religious proclamation during or after these incursions either by Khālid or any of his warriors. It appears that Khālid did not submit to either religion or political authority, as especially evidenced by his violations of the Qur’ān and disobedience of the Caliph’s commands. It could be argued, from the texts, that his conversion to Islam was motivated by a desire to be part of the politically victorious camp. Even the modern Muslim author ᶜAbbās al-ᶜAqqād, who usually adopts traditional approaches to Islamic origins, indicates that “Khālid’s acceptance of Islam was merely a submission in its political meaning.”245 Some traditionalists may still insist that Khālid represented only himself and his deeds reflected his own character, thereby maintaining that Khālid’s deeds do not negate the religious nature of these conquests. I disagree and argue that this cannot be true because Khālid served within a leadership structure, which affirmed

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his actions and allowed him to continue. Not only Abū Bakr, but also the Prophet is reported as having supported Khālid, refraining from dismissing him. The Muslim sources disclose that during Muhammad’s lifetime, Khālid killed some fellow Muslims of Banū Jadhīma after they clearly affirmed that they were Muslims.246 In response to this incident, Muhammad declared that he was completely “absolved” of guilt and sent blood-money to compensate this tribe.247 Khālid was not dismissed after this incident, nor was he directly rebuked; he was still considered sayf Allāh (the sword of Allah).248 Concerning Abū Bakr’s approval of Khālid, the Muslim accounts offer various examples of Khālid’s deeds, yet never report that Abū Bakr dismissed him, despite ᶜUmar and ᶜAlī, among others, requesting that he do so. Khālid is reported to have murdered Mālik and fornicated with his wife during the Ridda Wars, yet Abū Bakr never upbraided him.249 In fact, Abū Bakr is said to have supported Khālid to the extent that he appointed him amīran ᶜalā al-umarā’ (commander-in-chief) in the conquest of Syria.250 By not dismissing him, the early leaders implicitly encouraged Khālid’s brutal actions. It appears that Khālid’s military skills and his political shrewdness were more important for the umma than any religious or virtuous traits, which shows that political skills and conquest took priority over piety and moral standards.251

The Three Options Given to the Conquered People In the period under study, according to various classical Muslim sources, the Arab commanders offered three choices to the conquered people on the Syrian frontier: Islam, jizya, or war.252 While traditionalists may use these choices as proof that the Arab warriors desired to spread Islam, this is unlikely. Consider the historical narratives concerning these conquered tribal people: (1) they never initiated war against the Believers, (2) they were generally an unarmed people living in their homelands or settlements in the southeastern frontier of Syria, (3) they were attacked by a military army whose people “love to die as the Byzantines love life,” and (4) they were given the choice by a military general either to accept “his faith” or to die, unless they paid the tribute. In a situation like that, what should the conquered people have chosen? Because they could not prevail against armed warriors, paying the tribute and changing their religion were the only options.253 Consider al-Ṭabarī’s reports regarding Khālid’s sweeping attacks against the tribal people of Qurāqir, Suwā, Araka, Tadmur, Qaryatayn, Ḥuwwārīn, Quṣam, Marj Rāhiṭ, and Ghūṭa.254 He took the people of Marj Rāhiṭ captive, after killing some of them on their Easter Sunday. In Ghūṭa, his army attacked a church and captured men, women, and children.255 These historical reports do not describe Arab warriors keen to proclaim a religious message. Contrary to the picture that many

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traditionalists try to portray, the Arab warriors did not march to proselytize. Their military operations were for strategic political advancement. Islam was not offered as an option each time the Arabs encountered unarmed people, but in any event “offering Islam” in itself does not prove that a conquest was religious in nature: “of fering Islam” was more like of fering a way of “sub mission.” Accepting Islam did not necessarily mean the recognition of the “religion,” but rather the acceptance of peace terms with the conquering people—an expression of loyalty and solidarity with these armies. Furthermore, with respect to the very early Muslim conquests, Islam as a religion was still in its formative stage and the Qur’ān was not yet compiled. There may have been religious stories and sayings in circulation, but the religion with its fuller dogmatic dimensions and tenets had not yet formed, and was therefore unlikely to be adopted wholeheartedly by the conquered people.

The Apparent Conspiracy Behind Abū Bakr’s Death and Burial The Muslim accounts of the sudden death, quick burial, and lack of a funeral for Abū Bakr suggest a machination against the Caliph.256 While this is not directly connected to futūḥ al-Shām, it took place during the conquest’s course and was likely driven by lust for power and wealth, especially considering the abundance of spoils of the early futūḥ. Studying Abū Bakr’s death and quick burial provides a glimpse at the political and social contexts at Medina during futūḥ al-Shām, and reflects a less religious picture than the one portrayed by the Muslim traditionalists. The reports regarding Abū Bakr’s death are contradictory, but they basically revolve around two scenarios: He was ill with a fever for two weeks after taking a bath on a cold day, then he died, or he was poisoned by the Jews.257 The particular cause of death is not the focus here, but rather the way he was buried.258 He was buried laylan (at night), precisely laylat wafātih (on the same night of his death), and qabl an yuṣbiḥ al-nās (before the people woke up in the morning).259 This is not a normal manner of burial, let alone burial of the Caliph. Moreover, ᶜUmar, who became Abū Bakr’s successor, forbade Abū Bakr’s daughter, ᶜĀ’isha, from wailing,260 as well as striking and beating Abū Bakr’s sister.261 These incidents are abnormal and suspicious. This seems to be a diligent attempt to cover up the way Abū Bakr died.262 Considering the quick burial at night and the forbidding of his family from showing grief, it seems that ᶜUmar wanted the matter to be handled quickly. ᶜUmar most likely played a part in Abū Bakr’s death, especially when we consider the various disagreements between them.263 It is also possible that both reports regarding Abū Bakr’s death (poison or fever) are a later forgery to cover up a third explanation. Most importantly, Abū Bakr’s sudden death and hasty burial

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suggest political schemes and special interests at work, due to the abundance of wealth and power acquired by the conquests. It is safe to assume that the lust for power and wealth enticed the members of the umma, especially those in power, precisely the Meccan elites.264 Most of the early spoils of futūḥ al-Shām were obtained by Khālid, according to various early sources. This serves as a possible reason why other commanders envied him; he accumulated sabāyā kathīra (plenty of captives) and ghanā’im (spoils),265 sending one fifth to Abū Bakr.266 This success, coupled with ᶜUmar’s quick dismissal of Khālid—Abū Bakr’s favorite commander—suggests that special interests were at play within the umma, rather than the religious zeal usually indicated in traditional arguments.267

The Conquest of Egypt During Abū Bakr’s caliphate, the Arab Muslim expansion, after controlling the Ḥijāz, moved out of the Arabian Peninsula into Iraq and Syria. After Abū Bakr’s death, ᶜUmar continued the task of futūḥ al-Shām, followed by the conquest of Egypt, in addition to other campaigns in Persian Lands.268 The conquest of Egypt was the inevitable consequence and natural continuation of the successful Arab conquests of southwestern Persia and southeastern Byzantium. In what follows, I will examine the conquest of Egypt as reported by four early Muslim writers: Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam (d. 257/871), al-Yaᶜqūbī (d. 248/897), al-Balādhurī (d. ca. 279/892), and al-Ṭabarī (d. 310/923).269 I will analyze the stated motivations for the conquest of Egypt, rather than the sequence of events. As needed, I will consult other histories and early sources. I will conclude with some critical observations on the Muslim portrayal of the conquest, particularly testing the traditional Muslim hypothesis of religious motivation. I will demonstrate that the Arab conquest of Egypt is one of the clearest examples of a strategic expedition, which sought the wealth of the conquered land and the advancement of the growing Islamic State; it was not for self-defense, nor was it primarily for the proclamation of a religious message.

Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam (d. 257/871) The Kitāb Futūḥ Miṣr of Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam (d. 257/871) is one of the earliest known “thematically restricted” accounts on fatḥ Miṣr wa Ifrīqiya (the conquest of Egypt and North Africa).270 Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam begins his work with Muhammad’s waṣiyya (bequest or commandment) concerning fatḥ Miṣr (conquering Egypt): “If you conquer Egypt, istawṣū bi-l-Qibṭ khayran (do beneficence to its people) as I

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have marital kinship with them.”271 In what appears to be a prophecy concerning the conquering of Egypt, Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam observes various aḥādīth attributed to Muhammad, foretelling the conquest of Egypt: “Allah sa-yaftaḥ ᶜalaykum baᶜdī Miṣr (will open Egypt for you after my death),” “you will conquer a land that uses al-qīrāṭ (a type of measurement),” “when you conquer Egypt take mutual advice from the Copts as we have marital kinship with them,” “be kind to the Copts for they are your protégés and kith and kin,” “you will conquer Egypt after my death, but the Copts will support you, being your helpers fī sabīl Allāh (in the path of Allah),” and so forth.272 According to these various aḥādīth, it appears that Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam’s account depicts fatḥ Miṣr as an inevitable event predicted by the Prophet himself. This is a typical classical presentation for Muslim authors as they tend to reflect the divine and prophetic elements behind the events, rather than the tactic of man.273 Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam establishes that the account of fatḥ Miṣr was based on Muhammad’s communication with the rulers before his death. He mentions the letter sent by Muhammad to al-Muqawqis, the patriarch of Alexandria.274 In his letter, Muhammad, signing as rasūl Allāh (Allah’s Messenger), addressed al-Muqawqis as ᶜaẓīm al-Qibṭ (the vicegerent of the Copts): “I call you to accept Islam: f-aslim taslam (accept Islam, and you will be safe); aslim yu’tik Allāh ajrak marratayn (accept Islam, [and] Allah will reward you with a double portion).”275 The letter does not indicate the consequences if the patriarch chose not to accept Islam. Al-Muqawqis responded to Muhammad by affirming that he read the letter, understood the request, and knew a prophet was coming, although he believed he would come from Syria. In addition, al-Muqawqis sent some gifts to the Prophet, including two female slaves: Maria the Copt and her sister Hannah; it is reported that Allah chose Maria to become the concubine of Muhammad.276 After Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam establishes the background, he proceeds to describe the Arab conquest of Egypt, beginning with “the reason ᶜAmr ibn al-ᶜĀṣ entered Egypt.”277 Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam devotes an entire section to explaining the historical background of this conquest.278 ᶜAmr ibn al-ᶜĀṣ, before his conversion to Islam, visited Egypt at the advice of a Coptic Christian shammās (Byzantine deacon) who met with ᶜAmr in Jerusalem.279 Ibn al-ᶜĀṣ, according to that report, saved the deacon’s life twice; consequently, the deacon encouraged him to travel to Egypt to seek financial wealth and material gain.280 Ibn al-ᶜĀṣ joined the deacon, marching toward Egypt. Once he arrived in Alexandria, ᶜAmr was astounded by its beauty and the splendor of its marvelous constructions. He loved the city, its vast population, and its wealth, thus exclaiming “I have never seen anything like Egypt and its abundance of wealth.”281 Because of such a significant impression, after he converted to Islam and when the chance came, ᶜAmr spoke privately with the Caliph ᶜUmar ibn al-Khaṭṭāb and encouraged him to send the armies to “open” Egypt: in fataḥtahā kānat quwwa

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li-l-muslimīn wa ᶜawnan la-hum wa hiya akthar al-arḍ amwālan wa aᶜjazahā ᶜan al-qitāl wa-l-ḥarb (if you [ᶜUmar] conquer it [Egypt], it will be power [a fortified land] and support for the Muslims; it is the wealthiest land on earth, and the weakest in fighting and war).282 Accordingly, ᶜUmar, though initially against ᶜAmr’s suggestion, agreed to send 4,000 (or in other reports 3,500) warriors with ᶜAmr to conquer Egypt.283 Thus, the Muslim army marched toward Egypt and eventually conquered it. It is noteworthy to mention that ᶜAmr’s stated reasons for conquering Egypt, according to Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam’s report, did not include a proclamation of faith, nor liberating Egypt from the Christian or polytheistic worship. Rather, he stressed the great wealth of Egypt and its strategic political location for the growing Muslim territories. He was enamored by Egypt’s beauty and riches—not by the possibility of sharing Islam with the Egyptians. In encouraging ᶜUmar to send the Muslim armies to Egypt, ᶜAmr stated that Egypt would not be able to fight the Muslims, as it was the “weakest” at that time.

Al-Balādhurī (d. ca. 279/892) Al-Balādhurī provides a slightly different report on the beginning of the conquest. He writes that after the battle of al-Yarmūk was over, ᶜAmr led 3500 warriors and marched to Egypt without consulting the Caliph. When the Caliph learned ᶜAmr’s actions, he was furious and wrote ᶜAmr a letter, “rebuking and reprimanding him for following his own opinion, without consulting ᶜUmar, and ordering him to return home in case the message was received before his arrival in Egypt. ᶜAmr, however, received the message in al-ᶜArīsh [in Egypt].”284 Al-Balādhurī still observes that, in another report, ᶜUmar ordered ᶜAmr through a letter to proceed to Egypt. ᶜAmr received the letter while he was still at Caesarea. Before opening the letter, ᶜAmr knew that it would command him to return home if he was not yet in Egypt, but he wanted to proceed. He offered the deliverer of the letter 1000 dinars (which he refused to take) “to conceal the matter and not disclose it to ᶜUmar.”285 After marching from al-ᶜArīsh to al-Faramā, ᶜAmr faced Byzantine troops. He defeated them, then took their possessions before proceeding to al-Fusṭāṭ, where he received 10,000 or 12,000 men as reinforcement from ᶜUmar under the leadership of al-Zubayr ibn-al-ᶜAwwām.286 ᶜUmar sent al-Zubayr to Egypt not only as reinforcement, but also tried to convince him to take the governorship of Egypt.287 It appears that ᶜUmar wanted to remove ᶜAmr from command. However, al-Zubayr did not care for Egypt, as he was determined to march to Antioch believing Egypt was a land of al-ṭaᶜn wa-l-ṭāᶜūn (warfare and pestilence).288 Strengthened by the reinforcements, the Muslims gained victory at al-Fusṭāṭ: wa-stabāḥ al-Muslimīn mā fīh (the Muslims [considered it] permissible to take everything that was in it).289 Immediately following the victory, al-Zubayr ikhṭāṭ

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(marked) a specific place in Old Cairo for himself “and built a well-known mansion.”290 ᶜAmr and al-Zubayr disagreed over the conquered lands: Al-Zubayr insisted on dividing them, but ᶜAmr refused. Al-Zubayr swore, “By Allah, you will have to divide it as the Prophet divided Khaybar.”291 ᶜAmr wrote to ᶜUmar for a solution. In response, ᶜUmar instructed, “Leave it as it is, so that the descendants of the descendants may profit by it.”292 This dispute between the commanders took place lammā fataḥnā Miṣr bi-ghayr ᶜahd (when [they] conquered Egypt without making a covenant [with it]), which suggests that the land was given to the Arabs to possess and divide as they pleased.293 It is unclear whether Egypt was conquered ṣulḥan (through peace treaty) or ᶜanwatan (by assault).294 Al-Balādhurī offers contradicting reports of villages in Egypt, which resisted but were defeated by ᶜAmr, taken as prisoners, and sent to ᶜUmar, only to be returned by the Caliph, making them dhimmīs.295 Al-Balādhurī states that the “kharāj and poll-tax which ᶜAmr raised from Egypt amounted to 2,000,000 dīnārs; but that raised [later] by ᶜAbdallāh ibn-Saᶜd ibn-Abi-Sarḥ, 4,000,000.”296 It is evident that both the success and the plentiful gain of fatḥ Miṣr were remarkable.

Al-Yaᶜqūbī (d. 248/897) Unlike the reports of Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam and al-Balādhurī, as well as those of al-Ṭabarī, which I will discuss in the following section, those of al-Yaᶜqūbī are shorter in length and more concise. Al-Yaᶜqūbī reports a conversation between ᶜAmr and ᶜUmar, in which the former said, “O Commander of the Faithful, if you would allow me to march to Egypt, so that if we open [conquer] it, it would be a fortified land for the Muslims—as it is the wealthiest land on earth, and the weakest in fighting.”297 ᶜAmr kept yuᶜaẓẓim amrahā wa yuhawwin ᶜalayh fatḥahā (magnifying its importance, and making the conquest [to appear significantly] easy).298 Consequently, ᶜUmar yielded and sent 4000 warriors “all from the tribe of [the land of] ᶜAkk.”299 Apparently, ᶜUmar was reluctant to send that army, so he instructed ᶜAmr to expect a letter from him: “if you receive my letter instructing you not to continue marching to Egypt before you enter its territory , then do not advance and return away; but, if you receive it when you have already crossed into Egypt, then you may proceed, and Allah will be your support.”300 Al-Yaᶜqūbī claims that ᶜAmr received the letter in Rafaḥ in Palestine, predicted its contents, and postponed opening it until he had reached a village near al-ᶜArīsh within Egypt’s lands.301 Consequently, he consulted his warriors and determined that he could then proceed in “opening” Egypt based on ᶜUmar’s sanction. ᶜAmr then marched throughout Egypt (al-Faramā, Um Dunayn, and Alexandria) where the Muslims faced

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huge resistance and qātalū qitālan shadīdan (fought great battles) to the extent that they asked for reinforcements, and received 4,000 more soldiers. Finally, Egypt was conquered, and al-Muqawqis asked ᶜAmr to take Alexandria peacefully in return for jizya. According to al-Yaᶜqūbī, some believe the city was conquered ṣulḥan (peacefully) as al-Muqawqis requested, while others state it was taken forcibly.302 Regarding the taxes gained in Egypt, al-Yaᶜqūbī observes that the amount of the jizya sent to ᶜUmar by ᶜAmr decreased over time. In the first year ᶜUmar received 14 million dinars, but in the second year only 10 million, which made ᶜUmar accuse ᶜAmr of being khā’in (disloyal or traitor).303 While the decrease of taxes sent to Medina may reflect the conversion of the conquered people, it more likely demonstrates ᶜAmr’s questionable handling of the taxes, as he reportedly set aside jizya money and did not send it to ᶜUmar.304

Al-Ṭabarī (d. 310/923) Al-Ṭabarī points out that “after ᶜUmar accomplished the conquest of Syria entirely, he wrote to ᶜAmr Ibn al-ᶜĀṣ [instructing him] to march to Egypt with his warriors.”305 Some reports suggest that the conquest took place in the year A.H. 20, while others indicate A.H. 19, 21, 22, or 25.306 The confusion regarding the year likely stems from the fact that it took over two years to entirely conquer it. ᶜUmar himself complained about the prolonged time it took to conquer it.307 Al-Ṭabarī observes that the Muslims found Alexandria spectacular,308 and that they took sabāyā (captives) and sent them to “Medina, Mecca, and Yemen.”309 The people of Egypt desired to submit to the conquerors, seeking peace, 310 and ᶜAmr gave them the assurance of al-amān (safeguarding) on “their souls, milla [religion], properties, churches, crucifixes, lands, and sea [waterways].”311 The ṣāḥib (religious governor, Cyrus) of Alexandria offered ᶜAmr the jizya willingly, declaring that “he used to give it to the Persians and Byzantines,whom he hated,” and requesting the return of the captives who had been taken away to the Arabian Peninsula.312 Those captives did not return to Egypt, although a treaty was made between ᶜAmr and Cyrus that included a deal regarding future prisoners of war.313 While there are various reports that Egypt was conquered ṣulḥan, al-Ṭabarī writes that others “especially from among the Umayyad kings” believed it was conquered by force.314 He also points out that in A.H. 25, Alexandria naqaḍat ᶜahdahā (broke its treaty) with the Muslims, so ᶜAmr ghazāhum wa qatalahum (invaded and killed them [the Alexandrians]).315 After ᶜUmar’s death, ᶜUthmān became the Caliph. He dismissed ᶜAmr and replaced him with ᶜAbdullāh ibn Saᶜd, which angered ᶜAmr since ᶜAbdullāh had initially been one of his own soldiers.316 According to another report by al-Ṭabarī, the dismissal of ᶜAmr was due to a dispute between ᶜAmr and his soldier ᶜAbdullāh

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ibn Saᶜd regarding the kharāj (taxes) of Egypt. ᶜAbdullāh ibn Saᶜd accused ᶜAmr of stealing from the taxes.317 ᶜAbdullāh ibn Saᶜd was directed to proceed to al-maghrib (North Africa).318 Al-Ṭabarī notes that ᶜAmr had already raided North Africa previously, and, with his warriors, they aṣābū ghanā’im (gained booty); thus, ᶜAbdullāh ibn Saᶜd sent to ᶜUthmān asking permission to invade North Africa.319 The patrician of North Africa (a leader of an army), Jurjīr, gave more than 2,500,000 dinars to the Muslims in return for peace.320 When later asked to give money to the Romans, he declared: “we do not possess any money to give [anymore]; what we had in our hands, we already gave to redeem ourselves.”321 The abundance of money gained by the Muslims after the conquest demonstrates why ᶜAmr said, “Now that we have taken the country, we will never abandon it.”322

Critical Observations on the Motivations for Fatḥ Miṣr There are three critical observations to make regarding the motivations for the conquest of Egypt. First, it appears that ᶜAmr was motivated primarily by Egypt’s wealth and strategic political location as the western gate of Arabia. This is his own stated purpose for wanting to conquer Egypt. Within the four major accounts mentioned above, none focuses on the motivation to proclaim a religious message among the people of Egypt. Likewise, there is no indication that the Arabs felt threatened by the troops of Egypt, which would justify a preventive or defensive war. The narratives center around ᶜAmr’s exclamation, “I have never seen anything like Egypt and its abundance of wealth,”323 and his assertion that “it is the wealthiest land on earth, and the weakest in fighting and war.”324 Economic gain and political advancement appear to have motivated the Arabs, and ᶜAmr managed to convince the Caliph of the conquest’s necessity. ᶜAmr was completely amazed by Egypt and its resources, as evidenced by a report in a Syriac chronicle: When Alexandria showed resistance after its first surrender, ᶜAmr continued fighting and defeated it by assault. When Cyrus insisted that he was not responsible fornaqḍ al-ᶜahd (the treaty breaking) and asked him “eloquently to accept the gold he was offering,” ᶜAmr replied, “Now that we have taken the country, we will not abandon it.”325 As for Muhammad’s reported aḥādīth predicting the conquest of Egypt, were they legitimate religious motivations for fatḥ Miṣr? The answer is most likely negative. These prophetic sayings can hardly be considered religious incentives for at least two reasons: (1) ᶜUmar was reluctant to launch this invasion, and (2) ᶜAmr initiated the notion of fatḥ Miṣr and later convinced the Caliph based on non-religious declarations. This decision, like those examined previously, was based on military and economic concerns: whether victory was possible, what

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wealth would be generated, how many soldiers would be required, and where to gather them from. In the extant historical reports, the decision to launch the conquest was not centered around the need to proclaim Islam to the conquered people. Even ᶜAmr did not seem to persuade ᶜUmar to launch the conquest as a fulfillment of Muhammad’s prophecy. ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam, as a typical Muslim jurist, views and represents the conquest through a religious lens, but his portrayal does not reflect a faith-based motive. Had ᶜUmar been fulfilling Muhammad’s prophecy, as traditionalists argue, he should never have hesitated to launch the conquest. In reality, ᶜUmar was hesitant and unwilling to do so. ᶜAmr was not only the initiator, but also the executer who managed to convince ᶜUmar to target Egypt’s wealth and thus benefit from its strategic political location and military vulnerability. When reflecting on motives, Muslim writers who adopt traditional interpretations tend to see religion in a pure sense, as if any nonreligious factor is less important or nonexistent. They insist that the futūḥ were purely religious in nature. They tend to view the Arab conquerors as Muslim ascetics. However, this is hardly consistent with or supported by the Muslim accounts. This conquest is better viewed as a tactical strategic decision. ᶜUmar was initially reluctant to provoke the Byzantine armies so soon after the conquest of Syria. Nevertheless, what seems to have eventually convinced him was the affirmation of ᶜAmr that Egypt was “the weakest in fighting and war.” Of course, ᶜAmr as an astute commander was most likely correct in his assertion, as Egypt must have been truly politically weak at that time. The Persian occupation of Egypt ended in July 629, only ten years before the Muslim conquest started in December 639.326 Without a doubt, the weakness of Egypt’s defense attracted the Arabs.327 Second, commanders ᶜAmr and al-Zubayr’s reported dispute regarding division of the land seems to suggest their true focus immediately after the battle. Their dispute was severe enough that they had to write a letter to the Caliph in Medina. It appears quite obvious that the possession of land and resources was of significant priority among the Muslim leaders. A similar disagreement is reported to have occurred later between ᶜAmr and his soldier ᶜAbdullāh ibn Saᶜd regarding the kharāj (taxes) of Egypt, which resulted in the dismissal of ᶜAmr and promotion of ᶜAbdullāh ibn Saᶜd.328 These examples clearly describe a military operation, as opposed to the traditional portrayal of religiously motivated conquests. The Arab Muslim commanders who oversaw the conquest of Egypt were eager skillful warriors, not Muslim proselytizers. This is evident in the way they assessed specific lands before conquering them. Al-Zubayr was reluctant to lead reinforcement troops to Egypt, as he did not care for that land, declaring it was a land of al-ṭaᶜn wa-l-ṭāᶜūn (stabbing and pestilence). His preferences were not concerned with religion. He affirmed

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his desire to march to Antioch instead, as Egypt did not interest him. This shows that the commanders did not base their preferences on religious criteria. They sought power and gain. After the Caliph insisted, al-Zubayr yielded and marched to Egypt, and once he accomplished the victory he built for himself “a well-known mansion.” The Muslim narratives do not feature conquerors driven by religious enthusiasm and who liberate conquered people from their religious darkness. Third, the incidents documented in the Muslim accounts regarding the mishandling of tax money collected from the conquered people allow that lust for wealth was the Arab conquerors’ main goal from the fatḥ. We examined the dispute between ᶜUmar and ᶜAmr, when the latter was accused of stealing from the taxes, and the dispute between ᶜAmr and ᶜAbdullāh ibn Saᶜd when ᶜAbdullāh ibn Saᶜd accused ᶜAmr of the same crime, which led to ᶜUthmān dismissing ᶜAmr. We also read of the disagreement between ᶜAmr and al-Zubayr over division of the conquered lands, which ended with al-Zubayr building a famous mansion and ᶜAmr building a great palace with a mosque surrounded by gardens and vines. Furthermore, it is reported that ᶜAbdullāh ibn Saᶜd received “300 qinṭār of gold” from conquering several lands in North Africa, which was sent in its entirety to ᶜUthmān, who then gifted it to one or two Muslim families (Ḥakam and/or Marawān). After this money was given by the patrician of North Africa, his people went bankrupt, declaring they had no more money to give.329 These incidents of apparent thievery highlight the true purpose behind the conquest. Initiated by skillful Arab commanders and driven by the momentum of a growing Islamic state, the conquest was intended to secure power and acquire wealth. The Arabs gained enormous wealth through these conquests. This is acknowledged in one of the speeches by the Caliph ᶜUmar, when he encouraged the Believers to go to war and said, “Allah has strengthened you with Islam, bringing unity and harmony to you after your enmity and divisions, wa aghnākum baᶜd al-fāqa (and he made you rich after your severe poverty).”330 The modern Muslim author ᶜAbd al-Karīm observes that the Companions were poor before the expeditions; while they gained plenty of wealth through the early raids in Arabia, the huge breakthrough in accumulating possessions occurred during the conquests of the rich lands outside Arabia.331 In sum, contrary to the traditional Muslim argument for a self-defense conquest aiming to proclaim faith, fatḥ Miṣr was a successful political conquest driven by economic concerns and resulting in a military occupation. In a sense, the Arabs came to Egypt and never left. They subjugated the Byzantine lands and captured many of Egypt’s people as prisoners of war , sending some to Arabia and keeping others in Egypt after changing their status from free landowners to dhimmiyyūn (plural of dhimmī) and forcing them to pay tribute to the conquering rulers. When considering the traditional Muslim approach, one may wonder , if the Arab armies

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truly desired merely to proclaim Islam, why did they not return to the Ḥijāz after achieving their religious mission? If they sought to liberate Egypt’s people from their religious darkness, why were the conquered people forced to pay tribute or become prisoners of war to Medina, Mecca, or Yemen?332 Without clear evidence in the classical Muslim historical accounts themselves, the conquest of Egypt cannot be viewed as a religiously driven mission. The traditional Muslim approach in interpreting fatḥ Miṣr is not consistent with the extant historical accounts themselves. Although classical authors viewed and represented the conquest as divinely inspired and prophesied by Muhammad, their accounts do not describe a self-defense cam paign for proselytizing, nor do they portray the Arab conquerors as religious zealots.

Conclusion This chapter includes three main sections. In the first, I analyzed four major precursors to the early Arab conquests: appointing the first Caliph, ḥurūb al-ridda, and the earliest expeditions to Syria and Iraq. I demonstrated that on the basis of the textual evidence the choice of Abū Bakr as Caliph was primarily based on tribal customs and political considerations, rather than religious ones. I then argued that, according to various Muslim sources, the Ridda Wars were not intended to bring the so-called apostates back to Islam, but rather to consolidate power and secure resources to strengthen Abū Bakr’s political role as the Prophet’s successor. Regarding Usāma’s expedition to Syria, I suggested that, contrary to some traditional ar guments, the incursion did not tar get the Byzantine Empire, nor did it succeed in the claimed original mission designed by Muhammad. In contrast, Khālid’s expedition to Iraq was an inevitable consequence of the Ridda Wars, and probably not concerned with religious proclamation. Rather, it sought to create a protected frontier by establishing a chain of tribal allies. This was coupled with securing economic resources (through the jizya) for the Muslim headquarters at Medina. By analyzing these four major precursors of the early Arab conquests, I critically tested the traditional Muslim argument for campaigns of self-defense aiming to spread the faith. I have provided convincing textual evidence that the expanding Arab Muslim umma is better viewed as a continuation of pre-Islamic tribal political raid for dominion and hegemony. The Arab conquerors were skillful warriors seeking power and wealth, not proselytizing zealots brandishing sacred texts. In the second section, I examinedvarious Muslim sources on the earlieststages of fatḥ al-Shām, and eliminated the possibility that it was a war of self-defe nse, as traditionalists argue. I maintain that it was initiated by the Caliph, and it sought political advancement after a successful power consolidation by the Ridda Wars. I discussed various incidents and provided critical observations, which suggest that

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political expansion and gaining booty were of a higher priority than revering religious edicts. I stressed the lack of any textual evidence of religious proclamation, even though the Muslim narrators were actually religiously driven authors who tended to view and represent the deity at work during the futūḥ. In the third section, I analyzed fatḥ Miṣr, as reported in major early sources. These sources themselves suggest that it was initiated by the shrewd and cunning Muslim commander ᶜAmr ibn al-ᶜĀṣ, who managed to convince the Caliph ᶜUmar to conquer Egypt because of its wealth and strategic political location, as well as its weak military defenses at that time. The reported initial reluctance of ᶜUmar to launch the conquest indicates that he was concerned with military and economic considerations, rather than religious ones. In our Muslim historiographical narratives, we encountered evidence of Caliphs and commanders mishandling the money of the umma, arguing over possessions and dividing lands, and manifesting non-religious preferences when choosing regions to conquer. It is safe to conclude that the notion of launching a conquest in self-defense to proclaim Islam and win converts represents merely a traditional interpretation, which does not reflect the textual evidence from the earliest Muslim sources.

Notes 1. In defining the conquests, I prefer using “Arab” over “Islamic” or “Muslim.” On this see Hoyland, Seeing, 389; Donner, “Centralized,” in The Expansion, ed. idem, 342; and van Ginkel, “The Perception,” 175, where he rightly observes: “The Arab rule is seen as another ‘empire’, a malkūtā, not the rule of a new religion. The invaders and new emperors (malke) are Arabs, not Muslims.” The term al-khulafā’ al-rāshidūn is mostly used by sunnī Muslims, while the shīᶜī prefer the term ṣadr al-islām (the early Islam), as they do not tend to view the first three caliphs as rāshidūn (rightly guided). See, for instance, the shīᶜī contemporary work by Yasser al-Habib, Obscenity: The Other Face of Aisha, 49–51, where he curses Abū Bakr, ᶜUmar, and ᶜĀ’isha. See another shīᶜī author ᶜAbdullāh, Umniyyat Abī Bakr, 8, et passim. 2. See Ibn Saᶜd 3:431, 568–569. See also Ibn Ḥibbān, al-Sīra, 1:417ff; Dhahabī, Ta’rīkh al-Islām, 3:5ff; Ibn ᶜAbd Rabbih (d. 328/940), al-ᶜUqd al-farīd, 5:911. For shīᶜī perspectives, see al-Majlisī (d. 1110/1699), Biḥār, 28:297ff. 3. Zuhrī 139ff; Ṭabarī 4:1815. Ibn Qutayba, al-Imāma, 1:20–26; idem, al-Maᶜārif, 167–178. Tayeb al-Hibri observes that, “the events that led to his accession to the caliphate at the Saqīfa are ambiguous and laden with allusive messages.” Hibri, The Rashidun, 42. 4. See Donner, Muhammad and the Believers, 98. 5. See Mubārakpūrī, al-Raḥīq, 444–455; and idem, Rawḍat, 189–190, where he states clearly that the vast majority of the tribes accepted Islam except some of the followers of the false prophets. For the most part, I disagree with Mubārakpūrī’s traditional approach. I only refer to his writings as an example of the traditional Muslim approach. For a different approach, see Arkūn’s comments on the traditional approach, al-ᶜAlmana, 36–52; idem,

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al-Fikr al-uṣūlī, 10–13, and his chapter on the textual criticism of the Qur’ān (pp. 17–77), and social sciences and Islam (pp. 295ff). See Donner, Muhammad and the Believers, 98. Ṭāhā Ḥusayn (1889–1973) argues that this bitterness could never happen among the pious Muslims, as Islam had changed their hearts. Ḥusayn, Shaykhān, 39. In disagreement with Ḥusayn, the Muslim author ᶜAbd al-Karīm (1928–2003), points out that, socially and tribally, nothing had truly changed in the behavior of the Believers after they accepted Islam, as they were still driven by their pre-Islamic customs and tribal rules. See ᶜAbd al-Karīm, al-Judhūr al-tārīkhiyya, 9–10, where he states, “sometimes Islam had to modify the system, by adding to it or taking of f from it, and in some other instances it adopted the entire system from the jāhiliyya without any modification; Islam merely changed its name.” Ṭabarī 4:1817, 1819, where he points out that they were about to appoint Saᶜd ibn ᶜUbāda, the chief of Khazraj, as Caliph. For a shīᶜī’s perspective, see Yaᶜqūbī 2:123. For a secondary study, see Ḥusayn, Shaykhān, 36–37, and Kennedy, Conquests, 54–55. According to al-Ṭabarī, ᶜAlī was preparing Muhammad’s body to be buried while other anṣār and muhājirūn were discussing the Prophet’s successor (4:1839). Ṭabarī 4:1817, 1819. According to Ibn al-Athīr, ᶜUmar was the first to give al-bayᶜa (the oath of allegiance) to Abū Bakr. Ibn al-Athīr (d. 630/1233), Usd al-ghāba, 6:34 (section #5736–5737). Donner, Muhammad and the Believers, 97; Lewis, Arabs in History, 48; Muir and Weir, Caliphate, 1–3. Ḥusayn affirms that Muhammad never named a Caliph, or identified a method for choosing one. See Ḥusayn, Shaykhān, 27. In disagreement with Ḥusayn, ᶜAbd al-Karīm argues that Muhammad did not leave any new method for choosing his successor, because he was aware that after his death the Muslims would choose through the shūrā (consultation), as it was the common method in pre-Islamic society, and Muhammad did not change it. For ᶜAbd al-Karīm, what happened in this incident is a real description of consultation, though it was clearly carried out in an intense way. ᶜAbd al-Karīm, Judhūr, 109–110. Qimany (1947–), in disagreement with ᶜAbd al-Karīm, argues that what the Muslims did at the saqīfa was far from shūrā. It was a violation of Muhammad’s agreement with the non-Medinan Arabs, who viewed the appointment of Abū Bakr (without consulting them) as a violation of their tribal concepts, and consequently, they refused to pay the tax to the Medinan government. See the list of articles of al-Qimany at his official website http:// quemny.blog.com/ (accessed on May 27, 2016), particularly two articles: “So that Some of Them will not Deceive Us: Was our History Really Bright?” and “The Echo of the Invasions of the Muslim Brotherhood and Fundamentalists in the History of the Islamic Caliphate.” Zuhrī 141–143, especially 142; Ṭabarī 4:1817; Ḥusayn describes the sunnī-shīᶜī disagreement in an interesting way through his analogies and rhetorical questions. See Ḥusayn, Shaykhān, 28–33. According to Ibn Qutayba, al-Imāma, 1:21, al-ᶜAbbās wanted to elevate ᶜAlī. For some shīᶜī perspectives, see al-Ṭabarsī (d. 548/1153), al-Iḥtijāj, 1:69–70 (regarding ḥadīth al-ghadīr) and 1:89 (regarding the appointment of Abū Bakr); idem, Iᶜlām al-warā, 1:261–263. See also the shīᶜī authority al-Kulaynī (d. 329/941), Uṣūl al-kāfī, 1:213–214; Muḥammad Bāqir al-Majlisī (d. 1110/1699), Biḥār al-anwār, 28:209–307, 37:70–165. Concerning the incident at Ghadīr Khumm and Muhammad appointing ᶜAlī as shīᶜī Muslims view it, see Naqdī, Ghazawāt amīr al-mu’minīn ᶜAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib, 81–82. See also one of the presumably earliest shīᶜī sources by Sulaym ibn Qays (d. 76/695), where he

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writes on the controversial event of Ghadīr Khumm, affirming that Abū Bakr and ᶜUmar refused bayᶜat Alī by the Prophet. Ibn Qays, Asrār āl Muḥammad, 353–355, especially 354. Ibn Qays’s book contains extensive details of the incident of Ghadīr Khumm and its various versions and interpretations. Sulaym ibn Qays is considered as one of the faithful companions of ᶜAlī by shīᶜī Muslims, while sunnī Muslims view him as an anti-Umayyad polemical figure. See Shah-Kazemi, Justice, 21ff; Peters, Reader, 127. Ṭabarī 4:1818. According to al-Yaᶜqūbī, no one of Banū Hāshim was at the saqīfa when Abū Bakr was chosen, as they were all together in one house. See Yaᶜqūbi 2:124. See Ibn ᶜAbd Rabbih, al-ᶜUqd al-farīd, 5:13. Crone and Hinds argue that the shīᶜī view of the imamate is much closer to the actual conception of the caliphate. Crone and Hinds, God’s Caliph, particularly chapter 1. The imamate refers to the supposed role of ᶜAlī as to have received both the political and the religious authority of Muhammad. See Ibn Saᶜd 3:431, where he points out that some Meccans attempted to stop Abū Bakr and ᶜUmar from going to the saqīfa. Ṭabarī 4:1819–1820; ᶜUmar forced al-Zubayr and ᶜAlī to give Abū Bakr the oath of loyalty, insisting that they had to do so “voluntarily or involuntarily.” See Ṭabarī 4:1820. Ṭabarī 4:1819 and 4:1838; see the same quote at Yaᶜqūbī 2:123; Masᶜūdī, Tanbīh, 247; Tirmidhī, Shamā’il, 225. For a shīᶜī perspective, see al-Sharīf al-Raḍī (d. 406/1016), Nahj al-balāgha, 1:116. On Nahj al-balāgha, see M. Djebli, “Nahdj al-balāgha,” EI2, 7:903ff; Ziriklī, Aᶜlām, 4:296ff and 4:278; Shah-Kazemi, Justice, 1–7; de Blois, Arabic, Persian and Gujarati Manuscripts, 191ff. Compare with Ḥusayn’s modern interpretation, Shaykhān, 38. The justification Abū Bakr gave for his right to be Caliph, according to al-Yaᶜqūbī, was: minnā rasūl Allāh, fa-naḥn aḥaqq bi-maqāmih (the apostle of Allah is from us [our tribe], thus we are more rightful of his stature [succession]). Yaᶜqūbī 2:123. The debate according to al-Yaᶜqūbī shows that the muhājirūn, specifically Abū Bakr, felt superiority over the anṣār, and were not willing to give away the leadership. It is noteworthy that Abū Bakr was willing to give the power to anyone of the muhājirūn, such as ᶜUmar and Abū ᶜUbayda, but never to the anṣār. See Yaᶜqūbi 2:123. ᶜAbd al-Karīm argues that the Meccan Quraysh could never give up the dream of holding power over the entire tribes of the Arabian Peninsula. See ᶜAbd al-Karīm, Shadwu, 2:7, where he states: “the companions … supported him [Muhammad] in the battles he organized to expand al-dawla (the state) of the Quraysh, which was the dream of his forefathers beginning with his grandfather Quṣayy.” This dream of establishing an empire is also treated by another Muslim author, Sayyid al-Qimany. In disagreement with ᶜAbd al-Karīm, al-Qimany believes that the dream was for the clan of Banū Hāshim to become the leaders, rather than the Quraysh tribe. See Qimany, Ḥizb, 90–91. Ibn Qutayba, al-Imāma, 30; Masᶜūdī, Tanbīh, 247. According to Ibn al-Athīr, ᶜAlī, al-Zubayr, and Banū Hāshim did not give al-bayᶜa (the oath of allegiance) to Abū Bakr until after Fāṭima’s death (almost 6 months after Muhammad’s death). See Ibn al-Athīr, Usd al-ghāba, 2:441–443 (section #2012); 6:34 (section #5736–5737). See also Ibn Qutayba, al-Imāma, 30. Qimany traces the historical roots of the conflict between Banū Hāshim and Banū Umayya, and how it resulted in “the Shiites and Sunnis” division. See Qimany, Ḥizb, 91. See also Ḥusayn, Shaykhān, 28–29. Ṭabarī 4:1820. Ibn Qutayba, al-Imāma, 1:26–30.

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19. In describing Saᶜd, Ibn al-Athīr writes that Saᶜd ṭamaᶜ (was greedy or coveted) to be Caliph after Muhammad’s death. Ibn al-Athīr, Usd al-ghāba, 2:441–443 (section #2012). See Kennedy, Conquests, 54–55, where he states: “In many ways the elderly Abū Bakr was the perfect choice.” This view of Kennedy appears simplistic, as it does not consider the various historical accounts in different Muslim traditions. 20. Yaᶜqūbī 2:123. Ibn Qutayba, al-Imāma, 25. Concerning Abū ᶜUbayda, see Ibn ᶜAbd al-Barr (d. ca. 463/1071), al-Istīᶜāb, 828 (section #3036). Abū Bakr was willing to give the oath of allegiance to ᶜUbayda, but not to any of the anṣār. See Ibn ᶜAbd al-Barr, Istīᶜāb, 828 (section #3036). 21. Hibri, The Rashidun Caliphs, 48. 22. Ṭabarī 4:1823. Still al-Ṭabarī affirms that ᶜUmar shouted: “kill Saᶜd,” see 4:1843, 1845. According to al-Yaᶜqūbī, “ᶜUmar said: [O people] kill Saᶜd; Allah killed Saᶜd” (2:124). Comparing and contrasting the accounts of al-Ṭabarī and al-Yaᶜqūbī demonstrates that ᶜUmar may have had something to do with the killing of Saᶜd. 23. In the negotiation between the anṣār and muhājirūn, Abū Bakr addressed the anṣār: minnā al-umarā’ wa minkum al-wuzarā’ (the commander [will be] from us, and the ministers from you). Ṭabarī 4:1819, 1838; Yaᶜqūbī 2:123. This statement of Abū Bakr was in response to the request mentioned by the anṣār of equal rights between the anṣār and muhājirūn. This indicates how the muhājirūn may have felt superiority to the anṣār. Ibn Ḥajar al-ᶜAsqalānī (d. 852/1448), al-Iṣāba, 1:662, 699, where he writes that Muhammad announced that the imāma (succession in leadership) is from the Quraysh. Here al-ᶜAsqalānī reports a prophetic ḥadīth that settles the entire debate against Abū Bakr, but it does not say why ᶜAlī was not chosen. It appears that because al-ᶜAsqalānī is writing in a later period, the situation in the Islamic State demanded a specific prophetic ḥadīth to support an earlier event. However, al-ᶜAsqalānī’s claim is not reported in earlier writings. If this ḥadīth was known among the people at the saqīfa, most likely no one of the anṣār would have opposed Abū Bakr. 24. See Ṭabarī 4:1825, where he states that no one of Banū Hāshim gave the oath of allegiance to Abū Bakr until ᶜAlī did so almost six months after Muhammad’s death. See also Yaᶜqūbī 2:124; Ibn Qutayba, al-Imāma, 1:28, 31. It is interesting that al-Ṭabarī writes that Abū Bakr believed that he was demonized, declaring: inn lī shayṭān yaᶜtarīnī (I have a demon that takes hold of me) (4:1846). See similar report at al-Dhahabī, Siyar, 1:368 on Khālid ibn al-Walīd. 25. Ṭabarī 4:1826. See also Yaᶜqūbī 2:124. 26. Ṭabarī 4:1827. Ḥusayn believes that this is an exaggerated story from Banū al-ᶜAbbās against Banū Umayya. See Ḥusayn, Shaykhān, 34–35. 27. Ṭabarī 1824. Al-Yaᶜqūbī also affirms such a claim, as he writes on Abū ᶜUbayda warning the anṣār against choosing anyone but Abū Bakr or they would be viewed as having “altered or changed” their religion (2:123). 28. Even al-Ṭabarī describes a negotiation between Abū Bakr and ᶜUmar, in which each of them wanted the other to be the Caliph (4:1819). Hibri, The Rashidun Caliphs, 42. 29. According to al-Yaᶜqūbī, the anṣār were already finished with appointing Saᶜd as Caliph, and when Abū Bakr and ᶜUmar arrived naḥḥū al-nās ᶜan Saᶜd (they pushed people away from Saᶜd). Yaᶜqūbī 2:123. This demonstrates not only the disagreement about the Caliph, but also the effort Abū Bakr and ᶜUmar spent to convince the anṣār of a different Caliph.

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30. The measure was: minnā amīr wa min quraysh amīr (a commander from us, and another from the Quraysh), according to Ṭabarī 4:1819. It is noteworthy that before any discussion with the anṣār, ᶜUmar was determined to give the oath of allegiance to Abū Bakr and he stated so. Ṭabarī 4:1819–1820. 31. In what appears a very traditional interpretation of the historical account, Ḥusayn argues that it was an easy matter that the anṣār gave up, because they believed that the Mec can Muslims would not accept rule by Medina. See Ḥusayn, Shaykhān, 39–40. On the characteristics of the anṣār (strong, powerful, influential, able in wars, keeping treaties, supporting their allies), see Ṭabarī 4:1841, where there is also the statement of al-Ḥubāb ibn al-Mundhir: “through the swords of the anṣār this religion was accepted by those who became Muslims.” This statement gives the credit to the anṣār who participated in the maghāzī, through which Islam was embraced by many in Arabia. The response of ᶜUmar to al-Ḥubāb’s statement was, “may Allah kill you.” Ṭabarī 4:1841. 32. In defense of the sunnī tradition, Ḥusayn argues that if ᶜAlī had known that he was given the delegation from the Prophet, he would have never given the oath of loyalty to the earlier three caliphs. See Ḥusayn, Shaykhān, 28. 33. See Ibn Taymiyya (d. 728/1328), Majmūᶜat al-fatāwā, 28:298, where he states fa-man shakk fī qitālihim fa-huwa ajhal al-nās bi-dīn al-islām (the one who doubts [the legitimacy of] fighting them [the apostates] is the most ignorant person of the religion of Islam). According to him, they violated Islam (28:298). Thus, he advocates fighting the tax-rejecters even though they claimed to be Muslims. See also the Muslim salafī encyclopedia, Mawsūᶜat bayān al-islām: al-radd ᶜalā al-iftirā’āt wa-l-shubuhāt, 25 vols, ed. Daliā Ibrāhīm, 3:218, especially the full discussion at 3:211–218. 34. Muir and Weir, Caliphate, 14. See also Ibn Taymiyya, al-Ṣārim al-maslūl ᶜalā shātim al-rasūl, 317–322, where he argues that the apostate yajib qatluh (must be killed) (321–322). 35. See Mawsūᶜat bayān al-islām, 3:218. 36. See Mawsūᶜat bayān al-islām, 3:218. This goes in the same direction as what Samī al-Maghlūth affirms in his Aṭlas ḥurūb al-ridda, 18, where he points out that there was also ridda during Muhammad’s time, though we focus usually on the one during Abū Bakr’s rule. 37. Jaᶜfar al-ᶜĀmilī, al-Ṣaḥīḥ min sīrat al-imām ᶜAlī, 11:91, where he observes that those who use this term loosely include the fighting against the tax rejecters in the Ridda Wars, which is incorrect according to his assessment. 38. Jaᶜfar Murtaḍā al-ᶜĀmilī, al-Ṣaḥīḥ min sīrat al-imām ᶜAlī, 11:117–118. 39. See the official shīᶜī website Markaz al-abḥāth al-ᶜaqā’idiyya, with its director Sheikh ibn Riḍā al-Ḥasūn http://www.aqaed.com/faq/5344/ (accessed on May 27, 2016); and al-ᶜĀmilī, Qirā’a jadīda fī ḥurūb al-ridda, 10–11. 40. It is obvious that the shīᶜī secondary studies are relatively less in number in comparison with the sunnī ones, which may indicate the reason why the sunnī perspectives on various Muslim topics are more common and adopted among the non-Muslim scholars, though that does not nece ssarily mean that the sunnī perspectives should be considered the only legitimate view. 41. Wensinck, The Muslim Creed, 13, where Wensinck rejects these “artificial” divisions, claiming that they were done by Muslim historians to justify Abū Bakr’s decision, although those who refused the zakat were still in reality believers. Wensinck refers to the report that ᶜUmar was reluctant to wage war against those Muslims (13).

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4 2. Muir and Weir, The Caliphate, 14. 43. Muir and Weir provide an additional interesting factor concerning non-Muslims revolting against Abū Bakr: “The Arabs were on all sides rising in rebellion. Apostasy and disaffection raised their heads; Christians and Jews began to stretch out their necks; and the Faithful [Muslims] were as a flock of sheep without a shepherd, their Prophet gone, their numbers few, their foes a multitude.” Muir and Weir, The Caliphate, 13. 44. Donner, Conquests, 85. 45. Kennedy, Conquests, 55–56. 46. Kaegi, Byzantium, 62. 47. Ḥusayn, Shaykhān, 14, and also 57–58 and 96. 48. See the official website of al-Qimany and the list of his articles at http://quemny.blog. com/ (accessed on May 27, 2016). The quote is from his article, “Was our History Really Bright?” published on Wednesday, May 3, 2006. 49. See Ibid. 50. Abdullahi Ahmed An-Na’im, Islam and the Secular State, 60. 51. Na’im, Islam and the Secular State, 57. See Shaban, Islamic History, 24–25, where he analyzes the Ridda Wars in their relation to the conquests based on economic factors; that is, the Ridda affected Arabia economically, because wars reduced trade exchange. Consequently, Arabs needed to find new venues, and thus, they invaded the Byzantine and Persian lands. Kennedy, Conquests, 56, 181; Wensinck, Muslim Creed, 14. See Hoyland, God’s Path, 38. 52. Concerning al-ridda in Muslim tradition, see Noth/Conrad, The Early Arabic, 28–30, where they point to a specific genre called al-ridda, and conclude that “we must see in ridda an original theme of early tradition” (30). 53. See Na’im, Islam and the Secular State, 60, where he rightly argues, “That ambiguity may be clarified if we understand the issues in terms of Abu Bakr’s role as the political leader of the community, not as a religious one.” While this quote may show that Na’īm argues that Abū Bakr was politically motivated, that does not seem entirely accurate as he continues: “This reading is not inconsistent with the view that Abu Bakr’s own motivations may have been religious, in the sense that he believed that he was defending Islam”(60). 54. Yaᶜqūbī 2:128. Not only al-Yaᶜqūbī, but also the famous shīᶜī jurist al-Ṭūsī (d. 460/1068), al-Mabsūṭ fī fiqh al-imāmiyya, 7:267, where he writes that the apostates after Muhammad’s death were of two groups: 1) some kafarū (renounced the faith) after they believed; such as Musaylima, Ṭulayḥa, and al-Aswad al-ᶜAnsī, and they were murtaddīn bi-lā khilāf (apostates without a doubt), and 2) the Muslims who rejected paying the zakat though maqāmihim ᶜalā al-islām wa tamassukihim bi-h (they remained in Islam, holding fast to it)—those were not ahl ridda (apostates). For a list of the self-proclaiming prophets, see Masᶜūdī, Tanbīh, 248. 55. Donner seems to criticize placing the three groups in one set as apostates: “The Arabic sources call all these movements collectively the ridda … and thus at least imply that all were equally acts of blasphemy that deserved military suppression by the new state.” Donner, Conquests, 85. 56. Yaᶜqūbī 2:128–129. 57. Al-Yaᶜqūbī, therefore, lists three different stages in how Abū Bakr dealt with these different groups: he first fought various self-proclaimed prophets (such as Musaylima and

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Ṭulayḥa) (2:129), followed by fighting man irtadd (the apostates) (such as al-Nuᶜmān ibn al-Mundhir of Bahrain and Laqīṭ ibn Mālik of Oman) (2:131), and ended with fighting man manaᶜ al-zakāt (those who forbade paying the zakat) (2:131). Al-Yaᶜqūbī presents them as if they were in a historical chronological sequence. See Yaᶜqūbī 2:129–131. See also Donner, Conquests, 85. Ṭabarī 4:1879, 1905. See also the accounts of Ibn Ḥibbān, al-Sīra, 1:419ff; Dhahabī, Ta’rīkh, 3:27ff. See Ibn Kathīr 1010. See Ibn al-Athīr (d. 630/1233), al-Kāmil fī al-tārīkh, 282, where the author glorifies Abū Bakr, and asserts that Allah favored the Muslims by giving him to them as Caliph. He observes that itraddat kull qabīla illā quraysh wa thaqīf (all tribes have become apostate except the Quraysh and Thaqīf). See Ṭabarī 4:1871. Jaᶜfar Murtaḍā al-ᶜĀmilī, al-Ṣaḥīḥ min sīrat al-imām ᶜAlī, 11:91. See Donner, Conquests, 85. The common shīᶜī approach suggests they were Muslims and what Abū Bakr did was a great transgression. See Ṭūsī, al-Mabsūṭ, 7:267; Jaᶜfar Murtaḍā al-ᶜĀmilī, al-Ṣaḥīḥ min sīrat al-imām ᶜAlī, 11:117–118; al-ᶜĀmilī, Qirā’a jadīda, 10–11. From the non-Muslim perspective, see Wensinck, The Muslim Creed, 13. Ṭabarī 4:1878. For murtaddūn (Ṭabarī 4:1870, 1894, 1876); mushrikūn (Ṭabarī 4:1877); and kuffār (Ṭabarī 4:1871). For a good study on mushrikūn, see Hawting, The Idea, 1, 62, 67; Crone, “The Religion of the Qur’ānic Pagans,” 151–200. Ṭabarī 4:1870, 1873, 1894. Ṭabarī 4:1873, 1876. Al-Shaybānī (d. 189/805) and al-Sarakhasī (d. 490/1097), al-Siyar al-kabīr, 147–148. Sarakhasī compiled and edited al-Shaybānī’s work. Donner does not seem to consider the fight to be religiously driven. He places the tax-rejecters among those who politically challenged Abū Bakr. See Donner, Conquests, 85. Ṭabarī 4:1870, 1873, 1876, 1894. Masᶜūdī, Tanbīh, 247. According to Ilyās Shūfānī, the zakat was never affirmed as a practice before Muhammad’s death. The Prophet died before he saw the first zakat received at Medina. Perhaps that was a reason why some tribes refused to pay it, as Muhammad had already died. Shūfānī, Ḥurūb al-ridda, 60–61. This book is the Arabic translation of his PhD dissertation on the Ridda Wars. The English title is: Shoufani, Al-Ridda and the Muslim Conquest of Arabia. I use the Arabic copy. See Donner, Conquests, 85. See Na’im who seems to argue that Abū Bakr was not driven by his “religious” role, but rather by his political role: “Abu Bakr had to assert the authority of the state over a number of Arabian tribes that apparently resisted that authority.” Na’im, Islam, 57. Compare with his views on page 60, as he argues for religious and political motivations. The Qur’ān seems to encourage mercy and decent treatment: “Muhammad is the Messenger of God, and those who are with him are hard against the unbelievers, merciful one to another.” See Qur’ān 48:29 and 5:54. Ibn Kathīr 1010. See Ibn Kathīr 1010. This tradition is found at least four times in Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī (kitāb al-zakāt, kitāb istitābat al-murtaddīn wa-l-muᶜānidīn, and twice in kitāb al-iᶜtiṣām). It is also found in Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim (kitāb al-īmān). It is also collected in Musnad Aḥmad (Musnad

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7 5. 76.

7 7. 78. 79. 80.

8 1. 82. 83. 84. 85.

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al-ᶜashara al-mubashsharīn bi-l-janna, musnad al-khulafā’ al-rāshidīn), and in Sunan al-Nasā’ī (kitāb al-jihād). This English translation is from http://www.sahih-bukhari.com/ (accessed May 28, 2016), Vol. 9, Book 84, Number 59. See Shūfānī, Ḥurūb al-ridda, 78. Wilferd Madelung observes that some Companions advised Abū Bakr to “rescind the tax for the year and to treat the tribes loyal to Islam leniently in order to enlist their support for fighting those who had abandoned Islam.” See Madelung, The Succession to Muhammad, 48. See also Berkey, The Formation of Islam, 261–264. Ibn Kathīr 1010. See, for instance, Donner, Conquests, 85. See Ṭabarī 4:1873. This is one of the most famous sentences said by the Caliph. Most Muslim traditionalists, however, quote it repeatedly to affirm Abū Bakr’s piety and godliness. Donner points to Muhammad’s political methods he employed in Arabia to build a strong base of power at Medina, and appears to ar gue for politically driven Ridda wars. He observes that these “political” methods of Muhammad “would be resorted to again” by Abū Bakr in the Ridda Wars. See Donner, Conquests, 69. Ṭabarī 4:1873. Ibid., 4:1878, 1880. Ibid., 4:1878. Ibid., 4:1879. See Shūfānī, Ḥurūb al-ridda, 89. Shūfānī points out that the Meccan aristocrats played a huge role in elevating Abū Bakr to become the Caliph to the extent that he gave them key roles in the troops even though they had only recently become “Muslims.” Shūfānī, Ḥurūb al-ridda, 76, 78. Ibn Kathīr 1011; and Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, 283. Kister writes that: “It is evident that in those early periods of Islam this process of settlement in the conquered territories was closely linked with the political aims of the rulers of the Muslim community and the actions of the Holy War, the jihād.” Kister, “Land Property and Jihād,” 311. Ṭabarī 4:1879. Ibid., 4:1879. Shūfānī, Ḥurūb al-ridda, 71, 76, 78. There is no evidence that Muhammad applied force to collect the zakat. Shūfānī, Ḥurūb, 60–61. Abū Bakr and Khālid did not seem to have followed Muhammad’s footsteps in this regard. See Madelung, Succession, 47–50; Na’im, Islam, 58. Ṭabarī 4:1880, 1924–1926; Dhahabī, Ta’rīkh al-Islām, 3:32ff. See the shīᶜī account of the conflict between Khālid and Mālik by Ibn Aᶜtham al-Kūfī, Kitāb al-futūḥ, 1:19–20. On Khālid, see al-Dhahabī, Siyar aᶜlām al-nubalā’, 1:366ff. According to Noth and Conrad, Ibn Aᶜtham’s work identifies al-ridda as a “distinct” topic. Noth/Conrad, Arabic Historical Tradition, 29. Ṭabarī 4:1924–1925. Ṭabarī 4:1924. Hoyland calls Khālid “a tough no-nonsense soldier.” Hoyland, God’s Path, 39. Ṭabarī 4:1924; see also Ibn Kathīr 1015. Ṭabarī 4:1925. Ibid.

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97. According to al-Ṭabarī 4:1925. Ibn Kathīr provides a different story of the killing of Mālik: in a meeting between Khālid and Mālik, Khālid accused Mālik of following a false prophet and rejecting the zakat, and asked him “do you not know zakat should be fulfilled like prayer?” Mālik answered, affirming “Your master [Abū Bakr] says so.” Khālid responded “So Abū Bakr is just our master not yours too?” Khālid then said, “O Ḍirrār, chop off his head.” Ibn Kathīr 1015. 98. Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, 287. 99. Yaᶜqūbī 2:131. See a detailed shīᶜī account by Ibn Aᶜtham al-Kūfī, al-futūḥ, 1:19–20. Khālid’s actions were greatly despised by various companions. ᶜUmar demanded Khālid’s excommunication, while ᶜAlī wanted to apply the ḥadd (punishment) on Khālid. See Dhahabī, Siyar, 1:376. Madelung, The Succession to Muhammad, 50. See also Na’im who seems to argue that Abū Bakr was not driven entirely by his “religious” role, but rather by his political position as a leader: “Such demands would have been inconceivable if Abu Bakr had been exercising the religious authority of the Prophet, because Companions of that high standing would not have disputed any aspect of Abu Bakr’s decisions if they accepted them as expressing the religiously binding precepts of Islam.” See Na’im, Islam, 59. 100. See Ibn Kathīr 1015, where he states that his tribe came with total submission in addition to paying al-zakawāt (plural of the zakat). 101. See Ibn Ḥajar al-ᶜAsqalānī, al-Iṣāba, 10:8 (section #2303). Regarding killing Mālik, al-ᶜAsqalānī states that: arāh qutil khaṭa’ (I see that he was murdered wrongly). 102. Ibn al-Athīr, Usd al-ghāba, 5:49 (section #4654). 103. Khālid should have waited three months before marrying her to fulfill the Islamic concept of al-ᶜidda (the waiting period, which is 3 menstrual cycles). Various sunnī reports appear ambiguous regarding the time Khālid took before he consummated the marriage, while al-Yaᶜqūbī states clearly that he took her min yawmihā (from that very day) (2:132). Al-Yaᶜqūbī seems correct when considering the report of ᶜUmar desiring to stone Khālid, which would only have been appropriate if Khālid committed adultery with Mālik’s wife. Stoning is a famous punishment in some Islamic circles only for those who fornicate or commit adultery. Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, 287. Interestingly, Ibn al-Athīr is also ambiguous regarding the time when Khālid consummated the marriage, although he affirms that ᶜUmar wanted to stone Khālid (287). Ibn Kathīr, however, states that Khālid waited until she was lawful to him, which seems inaccurate, aiming chiefly to avoid shaming Khālid. Ibn Kathīr 1015. 104. Ṭabarī 4:1927; Ibn Kathīr 1015. 105. Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, 287; idem, Usd al-ghāba, 5:48 (section #4654). 106. Ṭabarī 4: 1926–1927; Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, 287; Ibn Kathīr 1015. Not only ᶜUmar, but also the well-known companion Abū Qatāda is reported to have questioned Abū Bakr and sought to excommunicate Khālid. Ibn Shādhān, a shīᶜī jurist (d. 260/874), affirms that Khālid killed Mālik, unlawfully seeking to possess his wife after seeing her beauty, and that the deeds of Khālid were overlooked by Abū Bakr. See al-Faḍl ibn Shādhān, al-Īḍāḥ, 132–133. 107. See Ibn Kathīr 1015, where he writes that the chiefs of Tamīm received him with submission and loyalty, providing their taxes. 108. Ṭabarī 4:1881–1883. 109. Ibid., 4:1896–1897. 110. Ibid., 4:1900.

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1 11. Ibid., 4:1879. 112. Ibid., 4:1898. 113. Ibid., 4:1898. 114. See Ibid., 4:1883, as he states, lā yuqbal min aḥad illā al-islām (nothing will be accepted but Islam). 115. See Ibn al-Athīr, Usd al-ghāba, 1:194–195 (section #84), where he states that Usāma was 18 years old; however, al-ᶜAsqalānī points out that Usāma was 18 or 20 years old. Ibn Ḥajar al-ᶜAsqalānī, Iṣāba, 1:45 (section #89). Ibn ᶜAbd al-Barr adds a third possibility, stating that Usāma was 18, 19, or 20. Ibn ᶜAbd al-Barr, Istīᶜāb, 46 (section #12). For shīᶜī perspectives on Usāma, see al-Majlisī, Biḥār al-anwār, 28:306ff; Ḥusayn al-Ḥā’irī, Dā’irat al-maᶜārif, 3:304–305. 116. The defeat at Mu’ta was severe. See Kalāᶜī 2:275–283, especially 282; Kennedy, Conquests, 71; Donner, Conquests, 101. Al-Ṭabarī writes on Dhāt al-Salāsil (3:1604) referring to Muhammad as wanting to “motivate the people [to march] to Syria”; as for Mu’ta, see Ṭabarī 3:1610. Regarding Tabūk, al-Kalāᶜī writes that Muhammad instructed the people to get ready, telling them that he wanted [to march to] Byzantium (2:376); see also Ṭabarī 4:1692; Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, 264; Ibn Kathīr 691. The Muslim narrators differ in the chronology of these expeditions. Al-Kalāᶜī places Mu’ta before the conquest of Mecca (2:275). While al-Ṭabarī and Ibn al-Athīr place the time of Dhāt al-Salāsil before Mu’ta, Ibn Kathīr uses an opposite order. Ṭabarī 3:1604, 1610; Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, 252–253; Ibn Kathīr 629–644. On the relationship between the Ridda Wars and the futūḥ, see Sharīf, Makka, 568; Ḥusayn, Shaykhān, 98–99. 117. See for instance the case of Mu’ta as explained by Sharīf, Makka, 553–555, where he adopts a traditional interpretation, affirming that the reason for the raids was to proclaim al-daᶜwa al-islāmiyya (the Islamic preaching). He takes his time to justify the defeat of the Muslims at Mu’ta (536–538). In an interesting turn, he suggests that the attempts to reach northern Arabia and the Byzantine frontiers were driven by the desire to unite and connect the Arabs of Arabia to the Arabs in the southern regions of the Byzantine Empire (533). 118. See al-Ṭabarī 4:1794, where he points out that many companions protested Muhammad’s choice of the young Usāma to lead. The Prophet, consequently, called them all hypocrites (4:1795). He insisted, even while he was sick in his last days, on sending Usāma (4:1796– 1797). On this dispute with Muhammad, see Haykal, Ḥayāt Muḥammad, 495–496, where he explains how Muhammad wanted to encourage the young man to become a leader, especially after his father died in Mu’ta. 119. Ṭabarī 4:1848; Ḥusayn, Shaykhān, 16–18. Ibn al-Athīr points out that Usāma was an advocate for Abū Bakr against ᶜAlī at the saqīfa incident. Ibn al-Athīr, Usd al-ghāba 1:196. 120. Muḥammad al-Kāndahlawī, Ḥayāt al-ṣaḥāba, 2:319. 121. Ṭabarī 4:1845–1846. See Ḥusayn, Shaykhān, 16–18. 122. Ṭabarī 4:1848. Al-Ṭabarī emphasizes that the anṣār were reluctant to go to war under Usāma’s leadership 4:1849; see also Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, 280 and Ibn Kathīr 1007–1008. 123. Ṭabarī 4:1848. The tradition refers to a heroic action from Abū Bakr to support Usāma’s leadership (4:1850): Usāma was riding his horse, marching to war, while Abū Bakr walked next to him in an affirmative action to support the young man’s leadership. See also Ibn Kathīr 1008. 124. Ṭabarī 4:1849–1850. Ibn al-Athīr points out that after Usāma left with the army to their camp (located near Medina) to get ready to march to war, Usāma sent ᶜUmar to Abū Bakr,

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seeking to cancel the mission. This sheds some light on Usāma’s ability to lead this expedition against the Byzantines. This also sheds doubts on the results represented in the Muslim histories regarding its success. Al-Yaᶜqūbī points out that ᶜUmar stayed at Medina and did not join Usāma’s army as Abū Bakr needed him at Medina (2:142). This reflects an obvious reluctance among the Muslims regarding such a battle and its possible results or consequences. Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, 280. 125. Ṭabarī 4:1868. 126. Ṭabarī 4:1870–1872. Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, 280. 127. Ṭabarī 4:1851, 1870, 1878; Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, 280. 128. Ṭabarī 4:1872–1873. 129. Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, 280. This report refers to murtaddūn (apostates). It appears to combine the goal of Usāma’s expedition (the Byzantines) with the goals of the Ridda Wars. It confirms that Usāma’s expedition is better viewed within the broader context of the Ridda Wars, rather than targeting Byzantium. 130. See Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, 280; and Yaᶜqūbī 2:142. 131. See Ibn Kathīr 1007. Al-Yaᶜqūbī is considerably brief about it (2:142). 132. As the Caliph waited for the return of Usāma’s army, he kept sending messengers and letters to the rebellious tribes to suppress their revolt, until Usāma returned to Medina. Ṭabarī 4:1984, 1870, 1871–1872. 133. Ṭabarī 4:1878–1880; in a contradictory report, Abū Bakr assigned Sinān al-Ḍamrī (4:1870). 134. Shūfānī, Ḥurūb al-ridda, 145–149. Compare with the shīᶜī view of Yaᶜqūbī 2:142. 135. Shūfānī, Ḥurūb al-ridda, 145–149. 136. Ṭabarī 4:2016. See Ḥusayn, Shaykhān, 98–99. 137. Concerning Khālid as a commander and a companion of the Prophet, see Ibn ᶜAbd al-Barr, Istīᶜāb, 197 (section #610), and regarding his role in suppressing the riots at al-Yamāma, see 198 (section #610). See also Ibn Ḥajar al-ᶜAsqalānī, Iṣāba, 3:69–70 (section #1477). For more on the traditional views regarding Khālid’s expedition, see the well-known Muslim author ᶜAbbās al-ᶜAqqād (1889–1964), Mawsūᶜat ᶜAbbās al-ᶜAqqād, 939–944. This work includes al-ᶜAbqariyyāt, translated as The Collection of Genius Deeds, in which al-ᶜAqqād wrote on the great skills and achievements of the key Muslim figures, including Muhammad, Abū Bakr, ᶜUmar, ᶜUthmān, ᶜAlī, and Khālid. 138. Yaᶜqūbī 2:147. See Balādhurī 241, where he uses the same verbs, “ordering him to go against Iraq.” Murgotten and Hitti, 387. For another shīᶜī perspective on Khālid, besides al-Yaᶜqūbī, see al-Aᶜlamī al-Ḥā’irī, Dā’irat al-maᶜārif al-shīᶜīyya al-ᶜāmma, 9:40–41, where Khālid is called sayyi’ al-ᶜāqiba ([someone of] a bad destiny [in the Judgment Day]), and how the Prophet himself was ashamed of some of his deeds. 139. Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, 295; Balādhurī 109. Al-Ṭabarī provides this same report as an alternative to the one speaking of Khālid being sent from Medina (4:2016). Moreover, he points out that Abū Bakr instructed Khālid to “pass by Iraq” on his way to Syria (4:2018). Al-Yamāma is northeast of Ḥijāz and southeast of Baṣra. Kennedy, Conquests, 104. 140. According to Ibn Kathīr, Abū Bakr instructed Khālid to enter Iraq from the northern parts. This report does not seem to ring true as Khālid was already in the south. Ibn Kathīr 1024. The tradition provides conflicting reports regarding whether Khālid entered Iraq from the south or the north. The writers are also not specific on whether he marched to Iraq right after he finished his campaign at Yamām or had to return to Medina and then march to

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Iraq. Concerning the contradictions regarding entering Iraq from the north or the south, see Ṭabarī 4:2022; Balādhurī 241, 242; and Murgotten and Hitti 387. 141. Ṭabarī 4:2016–2017; Ibn Kathīr 1025. 142. Ibn Kathīr 1025; Ṭabarī 4:2019. Khālid declared at Ḥīra that the Muslims “love to die exactly as you [non-Muslims, presumably Christians] love to drink wine.” Ṭabarī 4:2022. Note that in another report the word “wine” is replaced with “life”: “as you love life.” See ibid. 143. Yaᶜqūbī 2:147; it is clear that al-Yaᶜqūbī considers this expedition a part of the Ridda Wars, as he states, right after this passage, that Abū Bakr determined to fight the apostates. See Kennedy, Conquests, 105. 144. Ṭabarī 4:2016–2065, where he lists cities: al-Walaja, Ullays on the Euphrates, Amghīshiyya, Furāt Bādqilā on the Tigris, Ḥīra, al-Anbār, and Dūmat al-Jandal. The list of cities shows he was marching toward Syria as he passed through Iraq. He reached as far as Anbār in the north, then began moving westward toward Syria. Ṭabarī 4:2019. 145. It is noteworthy that some of these cities were populated by Arab Christians and were in fact part of the Persian Empire. Concerning Christians in Iraq on the eve of Islam, see Michael Morony, Iraq after the Muslim Conquest, 332–382; Kennedy, Conquests, 105. See Ḥusayn, Shaykhān, 16–18, where he argues that these Arab Christian tribes were threatening the Muslim umma, and because of this Muhammad was determined to fight them. Although Ḥusayn applies critical thinking in other works, his assertion here, and overall approach, lacks reasonable critical evaluation of the Muslim traditions, as he attempts to justify the unprovoked wars against the northern tribes in Arabia. 146. Ṭabarī 4:2076–2077. 147. Kennedy states, “[Khālid] seems to have roamed along the frontier, no doubt mopping up any resistance he encountered among the Bedouin and defeating the Persian garrisons.” Kennedy, Conquests, 104. 148. For some examples of traditional claims that these expeditions were acts of self-defense or intended to spread the Muslim faith, see ᶜAbbās al-ᶜAqqād, ᶜAbqariyyat Muḥammad, 28–30, where he argues that Islam was never dīn qitāl (a religion of fighting), and that fighting was never a reason for its success, as the conquests were ḥurūb difāᶜ (defensive wars). For al-ᶜAqqād, Islam succeeded because it was daᶜwa lāzima yaqūm bi-hā dāᶜin muwaffaq (an obligatory calling achieved by a successful messenger). In this work, titled The Genius of Muhammad, al-ᶜAqqād emphasizes the superior abilities of Muhammad militarily, politically, administratively, and much more. The author is eager to defend Islam against what he calls al-mughriḍīn (tendentious or prejudiced people). See ᶜAqqād, ᶜAbqariyyat Muḥammad, 28. 149. See specifically Ibn Kathīr 1024. See also Ibn al-Athīr who seems to portray Khālid’s expedition as a part of Khālid’s campaigns in the Ridda Wars, as he writes that the Caliph sent to Khālid in Yamāma, instructing him to march to Iraq. Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, 295. Not only did it take place within the same time period, but it also had the same strategic goals: defeating the Arab rebels. Kennedy calls it “little more than unfinished business from the ridda.” Kennedy, Conquests, 105. 150. Ṭabarī 4:2016; Yaᶜqūbī 2:147. 151. Ṭabarī 4:2019–2020; Donner writes of Nestorian Christians, as well as Arab tribesmen as groups fought by Khālid. See Donner, Conquests, 168–169; Kennedy, Conquests, 104– 105. For a broader discussion of the religious communities in Iraq, see Morony, Iraq after

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the Muslim Conquest, 280–430, where he discusses groups such as Magians, Jews, Christians, Pagans, and others. 152. Khālid had 9,000 warriors as he marched from Iraq to support the armies in Syria (Ṭabarī 4:2089). On the “erratic” nature of the fanciful numbers of soldiers, see Hoyland, God’s Path, 42. 153. Even the noted Muslim historian Aḥmad al-Sharīf adopts a similar traditional notion, claiming that what motivated the Muslim incursions was mainly the desire to spread al-daᶜwa al-islāmiyya (the Islamic preaching). Sharīf, Makka, 553–555. He attempts to justify the defeat of the Muslims, applying the same approach (536–538). 154. ᶜAbd al-Karīm, Shadwu, 2:113. As he analyzes Arabic primary sources, he concludes by viewing the conquests from the perspective of greed and lust for booty. 155. Ibid., 2:193. ᶜAbd al-Karīm wonders whether the conquered people embraced the religion of the conquering Arabs voluntarily or compulsorily. He argues that it was not reasonable or practical for the conquered people to wait and remain in their faith after what they saw from the Muslim armies (2:182). 156. The modern Muslim historian Sharīf rightly observes that embracing Islam was maẓharan li-dukhūlihim fī al-niẓām al-jadīd wa iqrārihim bi-l-wiḥda al-ᶜarabiyya (a manifestation of their joining into the new system, and their affirmation of the Arabian unity). Sharīf, Makka, 533. He points out that regarding ahl al-kitāb (presumably Christians and Jews), they had to demonstrate irtibāṭihim (their solidarity) with the new Muslim State by “submitting to it and paying the jizya” (553–554), and 524. Here Sharīf demonstrates that for those Arab tribes the decision of embracing Islam was probably a sign of loyalty to and solidarity with the Muslim State, rather than necessarily an affirmative declaration of a religious conviction. Furthermore, al-Sharīf affirms that the People of the Book were considered a part of the State (because they received a revealed book) “as long as they submit to the state” (558–559). 157. Kennedy, Conquests, 105. 158. See Yaᶜqūbī 2:147, where he states they fought qitālan shadīdan (with all their might). See also al-Ṭabarī stating the same regarding the fighting between Khālid and the city of Ullays (4:2034). The people of Ullays learned of the brutal sword of Khālid. Morony writes, “[they] avoided a repetition of what had happened during Khālid’s raid and exchanged tribute for peace.” Morony, Iraq after the Muslim Conquest, 199. Al-Ṭabarī and Ibn Kathīr write of “rivers of blood.” Ṭabarī 4:2034–2035; Ibn Kathīr 1025; also Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, 296. For a traditional justification for Khālid’s brutal war tactics (killing innocents and smiting necks), see ᶜAqqād, Mawsūᶜat, 943–944. 159. Al-Balādhurī describes three expeditions to Iraq, and Khālid’s was the first. Balādhurī 241–250. Donner also writes of the three expeditions, Conquests, 173–175. 160. See Ṭabarī 4:2018. See also Sharīf, Makka, 529, and 561, where he argues that Muhammad aimed at reaching out to the Byzantine Empire after settling the situation in the south with the Meccan Quraysh, and in the north with the Jews after Khaybar, and thus, he was ready to march against the Byzantines and Persians, and sent letters to their emperors (531–532). Similarly, see Haykal, Ḥayāt Muḥammad, 495–496. See also Ḥusayn, Shaykhān, 99. 161. Ṭabarī 4:2020. Donner argues that in the early years of Islam, Christians could join the Muslim believing community (called the Believers) “and still be reckoned Christians.” Fred Donner, “From Believers to Muslims,” 9–53, where his main thesis is: “Muhammad

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and his early followers first thought of themselves as a community of Believers (Arabic mu’minūn), composed of all those who shared Muhammad’s intense belief in one God and in the impending arrival of the Last Day.” He argues that Islam only began to emerge as a distinctive religion in the time of ᶜAbd al-Malik (d. ca. 705). In his recent book, Donner reaffirms his argument and suggests that Islam in that early period included “pietyminded and God-fearing monotheists, of whatever confession.” Donner, Believers, 74. For a brilliant critique of Donner’s thesis, see Tannous, “Review,” 126–141. See also Hoyland, “Review,” 573–576. 162. Ṭabarī 4:2018, 2041. 163. See Donner, Conquests, 174; Kennedy, Conquests, 105. See also Ṭabarī 4:2018, 2041. 164. See Sharīf, Makka, 524, where he points out that the tribes in northern Arabia began to be concerned after the victory of Muhammad over the Quraysh, as he took control over “the trade road to Syria and Iraq” (524). See also Shūfānī, Ḥurūb al-ridda, 145, 186–189, especially 186. 165. This is not the modern day Syria. Bilād al-Shām (Levant) in the Muslim histories refers to Greater Syria, which encompasses areas of Lebanon, Syria, Palestine, Egypt, and even sometimes Greece. See Ibn al-Faqīh, Mukhtaṣar, 91–93, in which he includes Gaza, Damascus, Jordan, Palestine, and other regions in al-Shām. Ibn al-Faqīh was a 4th/10th century Persian historian and geographer. On defining al-Shām, see al-Yaᶜqūbī, buldān, 160ff; al-Iṣṭakhrī al-Balkhī, al-Masālik wa-l-mamālik, 55ff; and Yaqūt al-Ḥamawī, Kitāb muᶜjam al-buldān, 3:311–315. Philip Hitti writes, “Syria, using the term in its old, geographical sense, occupies a unique place in the annals of the world. Especially because of the inclusion of Palestine and Phoenicia within its ancient boundaries.” Hitti, History of Syria, 3; and idem, Syria, 1. See also Miller and Hayes, A History of Ancient Israel and Judah, 36, 39, 317, 315, 325, et passim, where the term Syria-Palestine is used for the broader region of Greater Syria. 166. ᶜAqqād, Mā yuqāl ᶜan al-Islām, 168–172. Regarding the argument that this conquest was for self-defense, see Ḥusayn, Shaykhān, 96, and 101, where he argues that Abū Bakr “was forced by circumstances” to launch the expedition to Iraq and Syria to protect his territories, which is a self-defense war. His explanation appears more like a preventive war. In both cases, however, the Byzantines hardly threatened the newly founded state among the Arabs. 167. See Chapter Two above; also Noth/Conrad, Early Arabic Historical Tradition, 32. 168. Abū Ismāᶜīl al-Azdī al-Baṣrī, Kitāb futūḥ al-Shām, 1 (hereafter Azdī 1). 169. Azdī 1. Among the notables, al-Azdī mentions “ᶜUmar, ᶜUthmān, ᶜAlī, Ṭalḥa, al-Zubayr, ᶜAbd al-Raḥmān ibn ᶜAwf, Saᶜd ibn Abī Waqqāṣ, and Abū ᶜUbayda ibn al-Jarrāḥ” (1). 170. Azdī 1. The word astanfirahum could be rendered rouse, stir, or motivate. The same verb occurs in the Qur’ān in a verse related to striving (jihad) in battles: infirū (go forth), light and heavy! Struggle in God’s way (Q 9:41). 171. Azdī 1. 172. Azdī 2–3. 173. Such as ᶜAbdul Raḥmān ibn ᶜAwf, see Azdī 3, as he points out that ᶜAlī encouraged Abū Bakr by quoting a ḥadīth by Muhammad affirming the superiority of Islam above

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kull man nāwa’ah (every enemy opposing it), asserting that the Believers were granted the victory by Allah and would defeat the Byzantines (3). 174. Azdī 3. Compare with Fazārī, Kitāb al-siyar, 494, 504, 523–524, concerning early views on jihad. 175. Azdī 3. 176. Ibid. 177. Ibid., 5. 178. Azdī 5. For the rewards, see also Fazārī, Kitāb al-siyar, 523–524. 179. Ibid., 5–6. 180. Ibid., 6. For ghanīma, see Ibn Ādam (d. 203/818), Kitāb al-kharāj, 58–61, 82. 181. Azdī 6, and 9. See also sūrat al-Tawba (Q 9:29), which includes a relatively ambiguous word that occurred only once in the Qur’ān: ṣāghirūn (usually translated humiliated). Abdel Haleem renders it “agree to submit.” See Haleem, The Qur’an, 118. 182. Azdī 7, and also 9, where he uses polytheists to describe the Byzantines, but instead of jihād al-mushrikīn, he uses qitāl al-mushrikīn (fighting). 183. Azdī 10–11. When Abū Bakr heard about this vision from Shuraḥbīl, he rejoiced at the thought of seeing the victory of the Muslims against al-kāfirūn (the infidels), believing that this vision is good news from Allah assuring the troops with the certainty of al-fatḥ (opening, conquering) (11). On rendering fatḥ as “conquest,” see Donner, “Arabic Fatḥ,” 1–14. 184. This author is better identified as pseudo-Wāqidī, as I explained in Chapter Two. See Robinson, Historiography, 43; Noth/Conrad, Early Arabic Historical Tradition, 32; Kaegi, Byzantium, 10; Shoshan, Arabic Historical Tradition, 13–15. Wāqidī, Futūḥ al-Shām, 5 (hereafter Wāqidī 5). In this quote, pseudo-Wāqidī authenticates his historical account with the isnād by listing six Muslim figures who affirmed the same story (5). While I acknowledge the scholarly doubts about the author, I use Wāqidī instead of pseudo-Wāqidī for simplicity. 185. Wāqidī 5. See Ibn Kathīr 1030, as he observes that Abū Bakr was ᶜāzimun (intending and determined). 186. Wāqidī 5. See Abū Ḥanīfa al-Dīnawarī (d. ca. 281/896), Kitāb al-akhbār al-ṭiwāl, 118 (hereafter Dīnawarī 118). Al-Dīnawarī is one of the important shīᶜī writers, who was contemporary to al-Yaᶜqūbī (d. 284/897). For details regarding al-Dīnawarī, see Petersen, ᶜAlī and Muᶜāwiya, 159–168; also Robinson, Islamic Historiography, 98. 187. Wāqidī 5. 188. Ibid., 5–6. 189. Ibid., 6. 190. Wāqidī 6. Abū Bakr here quotes sūrat al-Tawba: “Go forth, light and heavy! jāhidū fī sabīl Allāh (struggle in Allah’s way) with your possessions and your selves” (Q 9:41). 191. Ibid. 192. Ibid., 8. 193. Murgotten and Hitti 165; Balādhurī 107. See Yaᶜqūbī 2:149; Ṭabarī 4:2078. 194. Balādhurī 107; Murgotten and Hitti 165. 195. Balādhurī 107; Murgotten and Hitti 165. 196. Each commander was given a banner. Balādhurī 107; Yaᶜqūbī 2:149; Ṭabarī 4:2079. On the commanders, see al-Dhahabī, Siyar aᶜlām al-nubalā’, 1:259ff (Khālid ibn Saᶜīd), 1:330 (Shuraḥbīl), and 3:54ff (ᶜAmr).

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197. Balādhurī 108; Murgotten and Hitti 166. The reason for removing Khālid from command was related to his refusal to give Abū Bakr the oath of allegiance for two months. Ṭabarī 4:2079–2080; Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, 300; Ibn Kathīr 1030. Regarding Khālid ibn Saᶜīd’s dismissal, see Donner, Conquest, 113–114. 198. Balādhurī 108; Murgotten and Hitti 167, stating that Abū Bakr provided each commander with 3,000 soldiers, yet with some reinforcements each commander had 7,500; “Later the total was increased to 24,000.” See Murgotten and Hitti 167. Balādhurī 108. 199. Balādhurī 109; Murgotten and Hitti 167. Al-Ṭabarī reports that Khālid was appointed as a commander-in-chief by Abū Bakr. See Ṭabarī 4:2109. See also Abū Zurᶜa, Ta’rīkh, 172; Fasawī, al-Maᶜrifa wa-l-tārīkh, 3:291. 200. It is also called Dāthina according to Ṭabarī 4:2108. Balādhurī 109; Murgotten and Hitti 168. 201. Balādhurī 109; Murgotten and Hitti 167–168. 202. Balādhurī 109; Murgotten and Hitti 168. 203. Balādhurī 110; Murgotten and Hitti 169. 204. Balādhurī 110; Murgotten and Hitti 169–170. See also Ṭabarī 4:2109, where he uses the same expression of “sweeping off their possessions,” describing that Khālid “conquered, took people captive, gained [booty], and marched” (4:2109); moreover, he would also “smite necks” (4:2111). 205. Murgotten and Hitti 170; Balādhurī 111. See Ṭabarī 4:2124. This method of killing is not only against common measures in treating unarmed people, but also against Abū Bakr’s clear instructions to Khālid, as the Caliph warned him against killing those who did not initiate fighting. Ṭabarī 4:2081; Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, 302; Ibn Kathīr 1030. 206. Murgotten and Hitti 172; Balādhurī 112. 207. Yaᶜqūbī 2:149. 208. Ṭabarī 4:2078, see also 4:2079, where he states that Abū Bakr directed the soldiers at beginning of year A.H. 13. However, in another report al-Ṭabarī emphasizes that Abū Bakr came back from the hajj by the end of year 12 and then he prepared the armies to march to Syria, directing ᶜAmr ibn al-ᶜĀṣ to Palestine (4:2078). Al-Ṭabarī states that ihtāj Abū Bakr li-l-Shām (Abū Bakr was stirred against Syria) (4:2082). Compare with Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, 300, where he mentions that Abū Bakr was interested in Syria. Al-Dīnawarī emphasizes that Khālid smote their necks and sabā dharārīhim (took their children captive [prisoners of war]) (117); moreover, he murdered a khafīran (guard or sentry) by crucifying him (118). For a similar account, see Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, 300. 209. Yaᶜqūbī 2:149. 210. Yaᶜqūbī 2:149. It appears that ᶜUmar is trying to make them feel guilty. 211. Yaᶜqūbī 2:149. 212. Yaᶜqūbī 2:150. 213. Yaᶜqūbī 2:150. According to al-Ṭabarī, Khālid is accused of cowardice 4:2086; and Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, 300. ᶜUmar was usually able to direct Abū Bakr, as stated by Yaᶜqūbī 2:156. 214. Abū Bakr refusal (Ṭabarī 4:2085; 4:2145); reinforcement (Ṭabarī 4:2089); asking for help (Ṭabarī 4:2091). 215. Ṭabarī 4:2091. 216. Yaᶜqūbī 2:150.

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217. See Ṭabarī 4:2089, and compare with 4:2091. These numbers are hard to believe. On these fanciful numbers, see Hoyland, God’s Path, 42. Even Ḥusayn, who generally treats the time of Abū Bakr conservatively, views these numbers as exaggeration. See Ḥusayn, Shaykhān, 103. Donner, moreover, points to the contradictions between the accounts regarding the number of warriors. Donner, Conquest, 126. The exaggerated numbers of warriors are also found in non-Muslim sources. See Hoyland, Seeing Islam, 186. 218. Ṭabarī 4:2091. 219. Ibid., 4:2092. 220. Ibid., 4:2089. Dhahabī, Ta’rīkh al-Islām, 3:87ff. Abū Bakr died at age 63. Ṭabarī 4:2127, 2128. Yaᶜqūbī 2:154, 157. See also Dīnawarī 118. 221. Ṭabarī 4:2096, see also 4:2144–2145; Yaᶜqūbī 2:158; al-Fasawī, al-Maᶜrifa wa-l-tārīkh, 3:296. Note the contradiction between al-Ṭabarī and al-Yaᶜqūbī, as the latter indicates that Abū ᶜUbayda was already in charge 2:149–150. See also al-Balādhurī’s account, in which Khālid arrived in Syria while Abū ᶜUbayda was already there, see Murgotten and Hitti 172; Balādhurī 112. Al-Yaᶜqūbī states that during Abū Bakr’s reign Khālid ibn al-Walīd was his commander of the army to Syria 2:157. This demonstrates a confusing picture regarding the names of commanders in charge as well as their positions on the battlefield. Khālid marched throughout the lands, al-Dīnawarī writes, and “attacked them, murdered, and gained booty, until he [finally] reached Syria” (118). 222. Ṭabarī 4:2096, 2121. 223. Ibid., 4:2125. 224. Ibid., 4:2125, see also 4:2115. 225. Ibid., 4:2125, and 4:2115. 226. Ibid., 4:2125. 227. See ᶜAbd al-Karīm, Judhūr, 7, where he argues that Islam emerged within a historical era and “it does not do Islam any good to disconnect it from the Jāhiliyya period” (7; see also 132). 228. The well-known Muslim author Ḥusayn Haykal seems to argue that the success of the Ridda Wars motivated Abū Bakr to think of ghazwu al-Shām (invading Syria), especially knowing that there were Arab tribes in Syria as well as tribes in Iraq that could support the Muslim armies. See Haykal, al-Ṣiddīq Abū Bakr, 111. 229. See Hoyland, God’s Path, 42 and 231ff, where he observes how Muslim authors desired to depict a religious picture in their accounts. Using prophetic aḥādīth voiced by Abū Bakr is one way the authors used to provide religious legitimacy for marching to war. Seeing visions is another way. See Sizgorich, Violence and Belief, ch. 5. 230. Noth/Conrad, Early Arabic Historical Tradition, 32. Shoshan, Arabic Historical Tradition, 13–15. 231. Concerning the economic gain, al-Wāqidī’s reports regarding the way Heraclius viewed the Arab warriors are quite interesting. After hearing the news that the Arabs were approaching Damascus, Heraclius addressed his people, saying, “God has sent those Arabs who used to be the weakest among the nations, driven toward us by the severe famine [in their lands], commissioned by the friend of their Prophet (the Caliph) in order to take our kingdom away from us and cast us out of our lands.” Wāqidī 9. Al-Wāqidī does not provide his sources, but he seems to emphasize that non-Muslims thought that the Arabs wanted the

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wealth and goods of the Byzantine lands. For details regarding Heraclius’ views of the Arab warriors, see Kaegi, Byzantium, 101–112, where he quotes Christian sources describing how Heraclius was concerned about open battle with the Arabs. See also Kaegi, Muslim Expansion, 92–112. 232. The reports of al-Ṭabarī on the conquest of Syria regularly refer to it as jihad (4:2083, 2084, 2091, and 2095), and the Byzantines as mushrikīn (polytheists) and kuffār (infidels) (4:2087, 2092). Al-Yaᶜqūbī, too, labels the Byzantines as al-kafara (infidels, a form of kuffār) (2:151). The Muslim authors were more concerned to show how Allah favors his people than what wars really entail. For a traditional view on jihad, see ᶜAqqād, Mā yuqāl, 168–172. 233. See Donner, “Arabic Fatḥ as ‘Conquest’ and its Origin in Islamic Tradition,” 1–14. 234. See Donner, Conquest, 116, where he points out that the Muslims in the first phase of the conquest did not target the “major cities” or the “settled districts of central Palestine,” but rather the “areas where Arabic-speaking nomadic and seminomadic tribes [resided].” 235. While the Qur’ān does not list them, the Muslim commentators and jurists suggest them, though they sometimes disagree. Al-Ṭabarī in his commentary on (Q 9:36) writes that the four sacred months are Dhū al-Qaᶜda, Dhū al-Ḥijja, Muḥarram, and Rajab. See Ibn Jarīr al-Ṭabarī, Jāmiᶜ al-bayān, 14:234 (Q 9:36). See Riḍā 10:482, who agrees with al-Ṭabarī on this list. While the commentators suggest these four months (1st, 7th, 11th, and 12th), the Qur’ān seems to indicate that the sacred months are continuous months (Q 9:2), which may shed some doubts on the choices made by later Muslim exegetes. For a ṣūfī perspective, see Ghazālī (d. 505/1111), Iḥyā’ ᶜulūm al-dīn, 3:432. 236. Mūsā ibn ᶜUqba 120–121; Ibn Hishām 2:705–710; Wāqidī 1:14–16; Kalāᶜī 2:10. 237. Ṭabarī 4:2128. 238. Ibid., 4:2016. 239. Ibid., 4:2155. 240. Ibid., 4:2212. 241. Wāqidī 8. 242. Al-Ṭabarī summarizes Khālid’s expedition to Iraq (4:2076–2077), and similarly, in Syria (4:2109). 243. Balādhurī 110–112; Murgotten and Hitti 169–170, 172. Al-Ṭabarī affirms sweeping off the possessions of the conquered people (4:2109), and that some of them were beheaded (4:2111). 244. Murgotten and Hitti 170; Balādhurī 111. See also Ṭabarī 4:2124, and compare with 4:2081. Arnold argues, “It has been made clear that religious interests entered but little into the con sciousness of these conquering Arab armies which overran Syria, Palestine, Mesopotamia, and Persia.” Arnold, The Caliphate, 24; and idem, The Preaching of Islam, 42–46, especially 42. 245. ᶜAqqād, Mawsūᶜat al-ᶜAqqād, 857. On Khālid’s conversion, see al-Zubayrī, Nasab Quraysh, 320; and al-Dhahabī, Siyar aᶜlām al-nubalā’, 2:111ff. 246. See Guillaume 561. Ibn Hishām points out that Khālid was aware that “everybody [among them] has accepted Islam,” yet he still killed them. In the same report, it is stated that Muhammad did not send Khālid to fight. It appears that Khālid was known for smiting necks and beheading people, as Ibn Isḥāq points out that one of this tribe declared “This is Khālid. If you lay down your arms you will be bound, and after you have been bound you

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will be beheaded. By God, I’ll never lay down my arms.” See Guillaume 561. Ibn Hishām 4:1710. See also Kalāᶜī 2:317. 247. Guillaume 561–562; Ibn Hishām 4:1715–1717, where it is reported that Muhammad sent ᶜAlī to fix what Khālid did. See Ibn Qutayba, al-Maᶜārif, 267; Kalāᶜī 2:317. Interestingly, al-ᶜAqqād links this incident with that of Khālid killing Mālik, affirming that Abū Bakr followed the example of Muhammad, refusing to remove Khālid from command, see ᶜAqqād, Mawsūᶜat, 277. Some non-Muslims call Khālid “the avenger of the aggrieved Arabs.” Kaegi, Byzantium, 89. See Hoyland, God’s Path, 39. 248. See Ibn Hishām 4:1735, where it confirms that Muhammad afterwards sent him to destroy some statues in Mecca. It is most likely that Muhammad never dismissed Khālid from command due to his military skills and achievements. Abū Bakr followed the footsteps of Muhammad in that regard. Concerning the title sayf Allāh, see Ṭabarī 4:2097; Ibn Kathīr 1034; also Kennedy, Conquests, 76–77. On sayf Allāh, see al-Zubayrī, Nasab Quraysh, 320; Yaᶜqūb al-Fasawī, al-Maᶜrifa wa-l-tārīkh, 1:312. 249. Abū Bakr dismissed other companions, like Khālid ibn Saᶜīd, based on the request of ᶜUmar, as they did not trust him enough (Ṭabarī 4:2085, 2086), accusing him of cowardice. 250. Ṭabarī 4:2109; Abū Bakr believed in Khālid’s abilities to the extent that he was sure that Khālid would destroy the Byzantines: “I will make the Byzantines forget their dreams of success [literally, “the whispers of the Devil”] by Khālid” (4:2111). Regarding Abū Bakr’s statement here, see Ḥusayn, Shaykhān, 104. 251. The deeds of Khālid reflect the continuity between pre-Islam and Islam in terms of cultural and social habits. See Khalīl ᶜAbd al-Karīm, Mujtamaᶜ Yathrib, 21, where he argues that the Muslim community in Medina did not change after Muhammad illā bi-nisba ḍa’īla (except just a little) (27). 252. See a good discussion regarding these three options in Arnold, The Preaching of Islam, 46. 253. Muir, Weir, and Arnold quote an incident in non-Muslim sources that reflects the reaction of some tribes regarding embracing Islam to save their lives during the defeat of Persia (about one year after the defeat of Syria): “The tribes which at the first embraced Islam were wiser than we. Now that Rustem [Persian leader] hath been slain, we will accept the new belief.” Muir and Weir, The Caliphate, 111; Arnold, The Preaching of Islam, 44. 254. Ṭabarī 4:2109. See also Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, 302. Donner, Conquest, 310, and also 125ff. 255. Ṭabarī 4:2109. These people were from Banū Ghassān, according to Donner, Conquest, 125. 256. On this point, I have benefited from the work of the Muslim author Aḥmad Ṣubḥy Manṣūr (1949–). See his official website http://www.ahl-alquran.com/arabic/show_article.php?main_id=10919 (accessed May 31, 2016). Manṣūr is the founder of a Muslim movement called al-Qur’āniyyūn or ahl al-Qur’ān (the people of the Qur’ān). They affirm that they are neither sunnī nor shīᶜī. They follow the Qur’ān only, taking it as their sole stance (comparable to the Christian reformer Martin Luther’s sola scriptura). Manṣūr was fired from al-Azhar, and exiled from Egypt. For more about Manṣūr and his movement, see Reynolds, Emergence, 91–92, 208. 257. Al-Ṭabarī mentions the two scenarios: the poison (4:2127), and the fever (4:2128). 258. It seems that the Muslim tradition sometimes resorts to accusing the Jews of a crime when aiming to cover up the ambiguity of a specific historical account. Similar to claiming

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that the poison was in Muhammad’s blood for three years before he died, we find here a report accusing the Jews of killing Abū Bakr. Regarding the poisoning of Muhammad, see Guillaume 516. Al-ᶜAqqād seems to avoid any critical assessment of Abū Bakr’s death, although he refuses the two scenarios and suggests that Abū Bakr died from malaria. See ᶜAqqād, Mawsūᶜat, 305–306. 259. Al-Ṭabarī mentions it was “at night” (4:2130), and he was buried “at the same night he died and before people wake up” (4:2144). Abū Zurᶜa, Ta’rīkh, 174. Interestingly, al-Yaᶜqūbī does not seem concerned with the way Abū Bakr died (2:154–157). 260. Ṭabarī 4:2144. Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, 305. See Ibn ᶜAbd Rabbih, al-ᶜUqd al-farīd, 5:16–20. 261. Ṭabarī 4:2132. Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, 305. 262. Manṣūr argues that ᶜUmar was responsible for the death of Abū Bakr. See his official website http://www.ahl-alquran.com/arabic/show_article.php?main_id=10919 (accessed May 31, 2016). 263. Ṭabarī 4:2085. See ᶜAqqād, Mawsūᶜat ᶜAqqād, 277, where he discusses the apparent reasons for such disagreements between Abū Bakr and ᶜUmar concerning several topics, one of which was al-ghanā’im (spoils of wars). See Ḥusayn, Shaykhān, 78–85, where he provides excuses for the disagreements between Abū Bakr and ᶜUmar—a typical traditional approach that lacks critical assessment. See the different shīᶜī views of Ibn Qays, Kitāb Sulaym, 249. 264. Regarding the abundance of booty, Muir and Weir state, “Thus Khalid fulfilled his vow. Multitudes of women, many of noble birth, were distributed among the army. A portion also, with rich booty, were sent to Medina, and there disposed of by sale.” Muir and Weir, Caliphate, 60. In another occasion in the year A.H. 16: “The spoil again was rich and plentiful. Multitudes of captive women, many of gentle birth, were distributed, a much loved prize, part on the spot, and part sent to the troops at Al-Medāin. The booty was valued at thirty million dirhems, besides vast numbers of fine Persian horses, which formed a welcome acquisition to the army, nine falling to the lot of every combatant” (120). Al-Ṭabarī refers to many captives (4:2112, 2122), peace in return for jizya (4:2125), and beheadings for no apparent reason (4:2122). 265. On “captives,” see Ṭabarī 4:2122; on “spoils,” see Ṭabarī 4:2109. It is puzzling that with this abundance of wealth, al-Yaᶜqūbī states that Abū Bakr still borrowed from bayt al-māl (house of treasure) of the umma, and regretted. Yaᶜqūbī 2:156. On the tension between ᶜUmar and Khālid, see al-Fasawī, al-Maᶜrifa wa-l-tārīkh, 1:464. 266. Ṭabarī 4:2112. For details on giving a fifth of the spoils of wars to the Caliph and the different opinions on its distribution, see Ibn Taymiyya, al-Ṣārim al-maslūl, 189–191. See also ᶜAbd al-Karīm, Judhūr, 95–96, where he points out that Islam borrowed this custom from the pre-Islamic era. 267. On how Abū Bakr favored Khālid, see al-Zubayrī, Nasab Quraysh, 320. On dismissing Khālid, see Ṭabarī 4:2096, 4:2144–2145; Yaᶜqūbī 2:158. On how Khālid despised ᶜUmar and thought he envied him, see Ṭabarī 4:2096, 2121. It is noteworthy to mention that this is similar, in some sense, to what happened with the Prophet. On the same day when Muhammad died, most of the companions left him and began quarrelling and fighting about his successor, even before burying him. See al-Majlisī, Biḥār al-anwār, 28:298ff. Regarding

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the death of Muhammad as being a fitna (sedition), see Nuᶜaym ibn Ḥammād (d. 288/910), Kitāb al-fitan, 1:50–62, 1:98–106. 268. For details, especially regarding the Arab conquests of the Persian lands, see Dīnawarī 118ff. Al-Dīnawarī is concerned with the Muslim-Persian encounter more than the Muslim-Byzantine one. He only mentions one sentence on the conquest of Egypt (148). On al-Dīnawarī, see Petersen, ᶜAlī, 159–168; Robinson, Historiography, 98. 269. Although I will study the four accounts in depth, I will examine the reports of Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam (d. 257/871) in more detail, as his work is devoted chiefly to the conquest of Egypt. I will begin with it, followed by al-Balādhurī’s accounts, before turning to the histories of al-Yaᶜqūbī and al-Ṭabarī. 270. Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam’s work is known by different titles: Kitāb futūḥ Miṣr, Kitāb futūḥ Miṣr wa Ifrīqiya, Kitāb Futūḥ Miṣr wa-l-Maghrib, or Kitāb Futūḥ Miṣr wa-l-Maghrib wa-l-Andalus. Its emphasis is on Egypt “and to a much lesser extent, North Africa,” in addition to some details on “Egypt’s administration, geography, and settlement in the early period.” Donner, Narratives, 135–136. For an early Christian (polemic) Chalcedonian account describing this conquest (dating from the early ninth century), see Theophanes, Chronicle, 37–39. Theophanes perceives Muhammad as a false prophet ruling over the Arabs, and that his successors were invaders and attackers of Arab Christians (34–36). For an even earlier work by a Monophysite, see John the Bishop of Nikiu, Chronicle; see for instance pp. 124ff. 271. I am using the critical edition of Futūḥ Miṣr edited by Charles Torrey. Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam, Futūḥ Miṣr, 2, (hereafter Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam 2). Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam observes different forms of this quote attributed to Muhammad, referring to Hagar, the second wife of Abraham, and the mother of Ishmael. See Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam 3–5. 272. Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam 2–5. Regarding the Copts and the Byzantines, Kennedy rightly observes, “Ibn Abd al-Hakam, who certainly reflected eighth-century perceptions among the Arabs, makes a sharp distinction between the Copts and the ‘Rūm’. While the Rūm were the chief enemies of the Muslims, men with whom no compromise was possible, the Copts played a more ambiguous role.” Kennedy, Conquests, 149. 273. Hoyland, God’s Path, 42. Sizgorich, Violence and Belief in Late Antiquity, ch. 5. 274. The Byzantine army was led by Theodore, while al-Muqawqis (Cyrus) was the Byzantine patriarch acting as the religious leader of Alexandria. The Coptic patriarch was Benjamin I. The Byzantine emperor was Heraclius (r. 610–641), who died on February 11, 641, during the Arab conquest of Egypt, before the surrender of Babylon. Kennedy explains: “Heraclius was determined to reunite the Christian Church in Egypt under imperial [Byzantine] authority. To achieve this, he appointed a man called Cyrus, known in the Arabic sources, for reasons that are quite unclear, as al-Muqawqis.” See Kennedy, Conquests, 144. For details on the opposition of Copts to Cyrus, see Hoyland, Seeing Islam, 21, 24. Concerning Muhammad’s letter to Cyrus, see Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam 45–46. 275. Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam 46. 276. Ibid., 47–49. 277. Ibid., 53. For a shīᶜī negative perspective on ᶜAmr, see Thaqafī, Kitāb al-ghārāt, 352. For details on the character of ᶜAmr ibn al-ᶜĀṣ as portrayed by Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam, see the dissertation of Christopher Wright, “Ibn ᶜAbd Al-Ḥakam’s ‘Futūḥ Miṣr’.” Wright explains that Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam presents ᶜAmr as a pious leader who protects the properties and

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interests of not only the Muslims but also the conquered people (227), demonstrating the Muslim conquerors as “pious warriors, free from the vices of greed, materialism and fear” (229). Regarding the influence of the Muslim fiqh and later interpretations on Ibn ᶜAbd Al-Ḥakam’s portrayal of the conquest, see Brunschvig, “Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam,” in The Expansion, ed. Donner, 225–227. 278. Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam divides his book into seven parts. Some parts discuss administration and geography. Other parts are devoted to the conquests, particularly that of Egypt and, to a lesser extent, that of North Africa. 279. Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam 53–54. See the discussion of Kennedy, Conquests, 146–147. On ᶜAmr’s conversion, see al-Zubayrī, Nasab Quraysh, 410; and al-Dhahabī, Siyar aᶜlām al-nubalā’, 2:111ff. 280. Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam 54. For details on this meeting, see Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ, 1:295ff. 281. Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam 55. Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ, 1:296. 282. Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam 56. See also the same report in Yaᶜqūbī 2:168. Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ, 2:59, 91. 283. Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam 56. 284. Murgotten and Hitti 335; Balādhurī 212. Butler believes that “Omar saw that the conquest of Egypt was desirable, but thought that ᶜAmr underrated the difficulties of it.” Butler, Arab Conquest, 195. Butler’s work is one of the well-known classic works on the Conquest of Egypt. He was an advocate for the Copts in his work. Although he wrote before Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam’s text became available in its critical edition, his work is still considered valuable. 285. Murgotten and Hitti 335; Balādhurī 212. 286. Balādhurī 212–213; Murgotten and Hitti 335. Hoyland demonstrates the contradictions between the Muslim and Coptic sources regarding the course of events during the Muslim conquest of Egypt. Hoyland, Seeing, 154. 287. Balādhurī 213; Murgotten and Hitti 336. The answer of al-Zubayr as documented by al-Balādhurī is: “I do not care for it, but would like to go there mujāhidan (on a holy war) and cooperate with the Moslems. If I find that ᶜAmr has already reduced it, I would not interfere with his affairs, but would go to some sea-coast and keep post at it; but if I find him in the struggle, I shall fight on his side.” 288. Murgotten and Hitti 337; Balādhurī 213. 289. Murgotten and Hitti 336; Balādhurī 213. 290. Murgotten and Hitti 337; Balādhurī 213, 214: fa-shahid al-Zubayr fatḥ Miṣr wa ikhtaṭṭ bi-hā (al-Zubayr witnessed the conquest of Egypt and marked [places] in it). ᶜAmr also “built a mosque and around it there were gardens and vines.” See Hoyland, Seeing Islam, 563, and Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam 91–92. 291. Balādhurī 214; Murgotten and Hitti 337. Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ, 2:83. 292. Balādhurī 214; Murgotten and Hitti 337. 293. Balādhurī 214; Murgotten and Hitti 337. 294. Some places seem to have been conquered by peace, while others by assault. For instance, ḥiṣn Bābilyūn (Babylon Fortress) allegedly offered no resistance to the Muslim armies and surrendered in peace, while the city of Alexandria seems to have held out for a longer period of time. Kennedy, Conquests, 154–159. See also Noth, “The ‘Ṣulḥ’–’ᶜAnwa’ for Egypt and Iraq,” in The Expansion, ed. Donner, 177–187. Wright provides a good note on

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the contradictions between the historical accounts: “From a historian’ s point of view, one often judges these accounts as spurious in nature since the anecdotal detail is often too thick and stereotyped to be believable. Yet, to set such accounts completely aside is to miss the motivations of the author. Though they may not illuminate historical truth, they do offer a window into Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam’s world.” See Wright, “Ibn ᶜAbd Al-Ḥakam’s ‘Futūḥ Miṣr,’” 229. 295. Balādhurī 215–216; Murgotten and Hitti 338. Concerning the status of dhimmī (dhimmitude), see Griffith, The Church in the Shadow of the Mosque, 17–20. See also the works of Giselle Littmann, using the pen name Bat Yeᶜor, The Decline of Eastern Christianity under Islam, 69–77; idem, Islam and Dhimmitude. According to Griffith, the books of Bat Yeᶜor “have helped to popularize the neologism, Dhimmitude” (1). 296. Murgotten and Hitti 340; Balādhurī 216. 297. Yaᶜqūbī 2:168; very similar to the report of Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam 56. 298. Yaᶜqūbī 2:168. 299. Ibid. ᶜAkk is a tribe in Yemen. See al-Yaᶜqūbī, Kitāb al-buldān, 106. That may explain why many of the prisoners of war of fatḥ Miṣr were sent to Yemen. 300. Yaᶜqūbī 2:168–169. 301. See Butler, Arab Conquest of Egypt, 195–196, where he states, “Omar’s doubts and hesitations had prevailed, and led him to repent his decision.” 302. Yaᶜqūbī 2:169. Abū Zurᶜa, Ta’rīkh, 184. 303. See Yaᶜqūbī, Kitāb al-buldān, 128. See Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam 158–161. Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ, 1:51. 304. Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ, 1:145. 305. Ṭabarī 5:2580. 306. Ibid., 5:2580–2581. Some say Egypt was conquered in A.H. 26. Hoyland, Seeing Islam, 580. 307. Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam 79. 308. Ṭabarī 5:2587. 309. Ibid., 5:2581. Compare this with the Coptic report of John of Nikiu, describing the Arab conquest: “impious barbarians, who eat human flesh and drank blood, arose in the quarter of Arabia, and approaching the borders of the Red Sea they seized the monks of Arāite, and they put them to the sword or led them away captive and plundered their possessions; for they hated the saints, and were themselves like in their devices to the idolaters and pagans.” John of Nikiu, The Chronicle, chapter LXXXIX, 33, page 125. Kaegi quotes various assertions of John of Nikiu, illustrating that John “emphasized that the Muslims were ‘the enemies of God’ and he [John] refers to Islam as ‘the detestable doctrine of the beast, that is, Mohammed.” See Kaegi, “Initial Byzantine Reactions to the Arab Conquest,” 148. 310. Ṭabarī 5:2587. ᶜAmr offered al-Muqawqis three choices: Islam, jizya, or war. Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam 65–66. The conquered people refused changing their religion or becoming slaves. They submitted and chose to pay the jizya. Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam 68–69. Butler disagrees with the notion that the Copts welcomed or helped the Muslims. He argues that such a notion represents a late understanding found in fourteenth-century sources. Butler, Conquest, 211. Regarding the disputed notion of non-Muslims welcoming the Arab conquerors in early Islam, see Moorhead, “The Monophysite Response to theArab Invasions,”

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579–591; also the two articles in Grypeou et al, eds., Encounter of Eastern Christianity with Early Islam: van Ginkel, “The Perception and Presentation of the Arab,” 171–184, and Griffith, “Answers for the Shaykh,” 277–309. See also Papaconstantinou, “Between Umma and Dhimma,” 127–156; Kaegi, Byzantium, 173–174. 311. Ṭabarī 5:2588. Kennedy, Conquest, 153. See Hoyland, Seeing, 578, where he provides three early non-Muslim sources that agree on the paymentof the jizya to the Arabs between ca. 636–637. 312. Ṭabarī 5:2581. On the Byzantine reaction to the Arab conquest, see Kaegi, “Initial Byzantine Reactions,” 148. Note that the leader of the Byzantine army was Heraclius’ brother, Theodore, while Cyrus was the Byzantine patriarch of Alexandria. See Theophanes, The Chronicle, 37–39. For more details on Heraclius, see Haldon, “The Reign of Heraclius” in The Reign of Heraclius (610–641), ed. Reinink, 15–16. 313. Ṭabarī 5:2581–2582. The agreement was that those who were sent to Arabia as prisoners of war would not be brought back, but those who became captives afterwards had to choose between Islam and jizya. Ṭabarī 5:2583. 314. Ṭabarī 5:2584; see Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam 72, where he asserts that after seizing it for 3 months, the Copts sought a peace treaty. He provides both scenarios: peacefully, 84–87, and forcibly, 88–90. Wright observes that Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam stresses Egypt was taken by treaty. Wright, “Ibn ᶜAbd Al-Ḥakam’s,” 228. 315. Ṭabarī 5:2809; most likely this incident of conquering Alexandria was forcible (by assault), while the first time was peaceful. See Abū Zurᶜa, Ta’rīkh, 180. 316. On dismissing ᶜAmr and how he became furious, see al-Ṭabarī 5:2817–2818. On how ᶜAbdullāh ibn Saᶜd was one of the soldiers of ᶜAmr, see al-Ṭabarī 5:2814. See also Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam 57; Dhahabī, Ta’rīkh al-Islām, 3:303ff. 317. Ṭabarī 5:2818–2819. Abū Zurᶜa, Ta’rīkh, 183. ᶜUmar accused ᶜAmr of stealing from the taxes. Yaᶜqūbī, Kitāb al-buldān, 128; Ibn Shabba, Ta’rīkh al-Madīna, 808–810. 318. Ṭabarī 5:2593, and 2813. 319. See Ṭabarī 5:2810, where he affirms that the mission of conquering North Africa was eventually fulfilled (5:2814); Yaᶜqūbī, Kitāb al-buldān, 128. For the abundance of booty, see Ṭabarī 5:2814. 320. Ṭabarī 5:2818, where he observes that what ᶜAbdullāh ibn Saᶜd took from the North African patrician was “300 qinṭār of gold” (5:2818). It is very interesting to find that, according to al-Ṭabarī, ᶜUthmān instructed ᶜAbdullāh to give this huge amount of money to āl al-Ḥakam aw āl Marawān (the family of Ḥakam or the family of Marawān) (5:2818). This was supposed to be the money of the Muslim umma, yet it was given entirely to some of ᶜUthmān’s valued families. 321. Ṭabarī 5:2818. 322. Hoyland, Seeing Islam, 577–578. 323. Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam 55. On the wealth and strategic location of Egypt, see Ibn al-Faqīh, Mukhtaṣar, 57, and 76; al-Iṣṭakhrī, Masālik, 48–55 (strategic location), and 45–55 (wealth); see also al-Ḥamawī, Muᶜjam, 5:137. 324. Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam 56; Yaᶜqūbī 2:168. 325. Hoyland, Seeing Islam, 577–578. 326. Kennedy, Conquests, 144, 148.

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327. For more details on the Persian conquest and occupation of Egypt, see Dīnawrī 110–111. Not only the political weakness of Egypt, but also the religious tension between the Copts and the Byzantine elites made it easier for the Arabs to conquer it. I argue, however, that the Arabs did not realize this tension until they entered Egypt. The religious fragility of Egypt cannot be considered among the reasons that motivated the Arabs to conquer it in the first place. It is obvious, nevertheless, that it made the victory easier. 328. See Ṭabarī 5:2818–2819. For the difference between kharāj and jizya, see Kennedy, Conquests, 8. 329. For the details of these incidents, see Yaᶜqūbī, Kitāb al-buldān, 128; Ṭabarī 5:2818–2819; Balādhurī 213–214 and Murgotten and Hitti 337; Ibn ᶜAbd al-Ḥakam 91–92; Ṭabarī 5:2818, respectively. 330. See Dīnawrī 141. 331. ᶜAbd al-Karīm, Shadwu, 2:113. 332. Ṭabarī 5:2581.

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Online Resources The official site of the shīᶜī scholar ᶜAlī al-Kūrānī al-ᶜĀmilī http://www.alameli.net/ The official website of Aḥmad Ṣubḥī Manṣūr the founder of al-Qur’āniyyūn or ahl al-Qur’ān (the Qur’ānists) http://www.ahl-alquran.com/arabic/ The official website of Sayyid Maḥmūd al-Qimany http://quemny.blog.com

chapter

five

Jihad and Qitāl as the Qur’ān Sees Them Exegeting Islam’s Scripture

“The Qur’an even before its revelation, was arranged as a Book in the ‘Preserved [heavenly] Tablet’; but the events during the ministry of the Holy Prophet necessitated revelation of its verses in a different order.” —S ayyid S aeed A khtar R izvi , a S hiite scholar “The Quran, which was revealedfourteen centuries ago, mentioned facts only recently discovered or proven by scientists. This proves without doubt that the Quran must be the literal word of God, revealed by Him to the Prophet Muhammad, and that the Quran was not authored by Muhammad or by any other human being.” —I. A. I brahim , a S unni apologist “The connection made by medieval Muslim exegetes between the biography of Muḥammad and the Qur’ān should not form the basis of critical scholarship. Instead, the Qur’ān should be appreciated in light of its conversation with earlier literature, in particular Biblical literature (by which I mean the Bible, apocrypha, and Jewish and Christian exegetical works).” —G abriel S aid R eynolds “I approach tafsīr tradition differently in a way that tafsīr is seen as reflecting social, cultural, and political contexts in which it emerges.” —M un ’ im S irry

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The question of what the Qur’ān itself states on the topic of conquest stands in the background of the historical inquiry. More foundational, though, is the question of why examination of the Qur’ān is necessary regarding war. There are at least three reasons: (1) the Qur’ān is one of the earliest available Islamic sources, (2) it is the most sacred source for Islamic faith, practice, and self-understanding, and (3) it is the most reliable and trustworthy source for Muslims, as it is viewed as the pure Word of Allah, which is divinely protected from error, addition, or interpolation. Thus, the Qur’ān must be consulted if one is seeking to test the traditional Muslim hypothesis for the motives of the early raids and conquests. Once it has been studied, the Qur’ān’s statements should be compared and contrasted with the writings of later Muslims regarding the same topic. In the Qur’ān, there are at least two important nouns linked with the notion of fighting and marching to battles, namely qitāl (fighting) and jihad. While jihad is a term with a broad usage, it involves the notion of striving in battle in at least one of its meanings, as discussed below. Both terms commonly appear in the Muslim scripture associated with other terms, such as fī sabīl Allāh (in Allah’s path), al-kāfirūn (infidels), al-mushrikūn (associators), ahl al-kitāb (the People of the Book, or scripture people), among others.1 Therefore, this chapter focuses on the Qur’ān’s ideological articulation of the notion of fighting with non-Muslims. It serves as an exegetical piece of Islam’s scripture that focuses on the terms qitāl and jihad in their connection with the Muslim expeditions, aiming at explaining al-Qur’ān bi-l-Qur’ān (the Qur’ān through the Qur’ān). Post-Qur’ānic materials—medieval tafsīr and prophetic aḥādīth, as well as extra-Qur’ānic tools, such as asbāb al-nuzūl and al-nāsikh wa-l-mansūkh—will be studied in order to compare and contrast; they will not, however, serve as authoritative sources of Qur’ānic interpretation. This chapter consists of three parts. Part One analyzes the Qur’ānic text and is divided into two sections. The first section provides a brief examination of the Qur’ān’s mentions of confrontation in battles with non-Muslims. This section aims to demonstrate how Islam’ s scripture seems to provide dif ferent notions regarding confrontations. The second section analyzes terms—jihad, qitāl, fī sabīl Allāh, al-kāfirūn, ahl al-kitāb, and alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb—and will explain their meaning without relying on post-Qur’ānic interpretations or doctrines. Part Two examines various Qur’ānic verses, which include the terms jihad and qitāl, contrasting two aspects: (1) what the particular verse appears to mean, and (2) how it is interpreted by Muslim commentators from various generations and doctrinal views. Part Three serves as a concluding section, demonstrating the dissonance and obvious discord not only between the Qur’ān and its commentators, but also among the Muslim exegetes themselves. The effort here has been to call attention to a less emphasized area of comparison, namely between the message of the Qur’ān and the offered interpretation of later Muslim mufassirūn. The goal is a

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greater appreciation of the passages in the Qur’ān that advocate tolerance and coexistence with non-Muslims, leading to better intercultural understanding and mutual respect. The conclusion of this chapter serves as the foundation of the final chapter, which is the overall conclusion of this study.

Exegeting Islam’s Scripture: Jihad and Qitāl in the Qur’ān The Qur’ān on Confrontation with Non-Muslims In the Qur’ān, one can identify at least three different groups of verses related to confronting non-Muslims. The first group of verses could be interpreted to describe a faith of tolerance and peace, which calls for coexistence and mutual understanding between religious communities. According to these verses, Islam does not call for any aggressive conduct against the non-Muslims. For instance, sūrat al-Kāfirūn (Q 109:1–6) reads, “Say: ‘O unbelievers, I serve not what you serve and you are not serving what I serve … To you your religion, and to me my religion!’”2 This sūra could be interpreted as approval of non-Muslims who remain in their non-belief. It appears to advocate religious freedom, although it labels non-Muslims as kāfirūn (infidels), which carries a negative connotation. In sūrat al-Baqara (Q 2:256), the text again supports religious freedom: “There is no compulsion in religion.” A few verses earlier, the text lists various non-Muslim faiths to be rewarded in the next life: Surely they that believe (Muslims), and those of Jewry (who follow the Jewish scriptures), and the Christians, and those Sabaeans, whoso believes in God and the Last Day, and works righteousness—their wage awaits them with their Lord, and no fear shall be on them; neither shall they sorrow.

In this affirmation, the Qur’ān tolerates other faiths, asserting that various non-Muslim beliefs are not only valued and, on some levels, equated with Islam, but are also promised rewards similar to those which await the Muslims in the afterlife.3 Furthermore, in sūrat Yūnus (Q 10:99), the text seems to object to any forced conversion to Islam: “And if thy Lord had willed, whoever is in the earth would have believed, all of them, all together.” If Allah had willed for someone to believe, they would have believed. This demonstrates the power of Allah’s will to bring people to faith, and allows for some people who would not embrace Islam. Allah’s will is not only crucia l in bringing people to faith; it also, according to sūrat al-Nisā’ (Q 4:90), brings victory to the Muslims. Thus, there is no need to attack the non-Muslims: “Had God willed, He would have given them [the non-Muslims] authority over you, and then certainly they would have fought you.

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If they withdraw from you, and do not fight you, and offer you peace, then God assigns not any way to you against them.” According to this verse, the Qur’ān does not call the Believers to fight those who desire peace—it calls for peacemaking. This first group of Qur’ānic verses reflects a tolerant and peaceful faith, which recognizes the existence of other religions and advocates coexisting with them. The second group of verses is slightly dif ferent as it appears discordant with the first group. The first verse under study alleges that Jews and Christians are unjust evildoers and exhorts Muslims to “take not Jews and Christians as friends; they are friends of each other. Whoso of you makes them his friends is one of them. God guides not the people of the evildoers” (Q 5:51).4 The verse refers to Chris tians and Jews as al-ẓālimīn (unjust and evildoers) who are misguided, and commands the Believers to refrain from befriending them. The Qur’ān also identifies another group of individuals who are faithless, labeled as al-kāfirūn (the infidels), as opposed to believers: “God has cursed the unbelievers, and prepared for them a Blaze” (Q 33:64). It states that those who have no faith are cursed and will be tormented. Thus, while sūrat al-Kāfirūn (Q 109), as mentioned in the first group of verses, allows al-kāfirūn to maintain their religious identity, sūrat al-Aḥzāb (Q 33:64) insists they are cursed and that Allah has surely prepared for them a burning fire. This second group of verses appears to distinguish between Muslims and non-Muslims, indicating a possible context of hostility between the believers and unbelievers from different groups (Jews, Christians, infidels, and associators). The third group of Qur’ānic verses speaks of fighting non-Muslims. In sūrat al-Tawba (Q 9:36), the Qur’ān exhorts the Believers to fight the mushrikūn (associators): “And fight the mushrikūn totally as they fight you totally” (Q 9:36; see also 2:244). However, the verse could be interpreted to only affirm fighting in self-defense. In a verse possibly intended to motivate reluctant fighters, the Qur’ān states, “kutib ᶜalaykum al-qitāl (fighting is ordained or prescribed for you) though you hate it” (Q 2:216). This is reinforced by another verse: inn Allāh yuḥibb alladhīn yuqātilūn fī sabīlih (Allah loves those who fight in his way) (Q 61:4). Furthermore, the Qur’ān seems to discourage the Believers from calling for peace when they are strong, instructing them, “do not faint and call for peace; you shall be the upper ones, and God is with you” (Q 47:35). This encourages the Believers not to seek peace in situations when victory is possible, since Allah supports them. Urging them to be strong against unbelievers and ur ging them to prepare for war, sūrat al-Anfāl (Q 8:60) commands the Believers, “Make ready for them whatever force and strings of horses you can, to terrify thereby the enemy of God and your enemy.” A few verses later, the prophet is addressed: “O Prophet, urge on the believers to fight” (Q 8:65), as Allah “shall cast into the unbelievers’ hearts terror; so [that the Believers would] smite above the necks, and smite every finger of them” (Q 8:12). Similarly, in sūrat al-Tawba (Q 9:29), the Believers

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are called to fight alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb (scripture people, presumably Jews and Christians), “until they pay the jizya (tribute) out of hand and have been humbled (or humiliated).” Therefore, while the first group of verses seems to tolerate non-Muslims, specifically Jews and Christians, the second discourages Muslims from befriending them, and the third commands fighting them until they pay tribute with humiliation. These three sets of verses appear to contradict each other. Relying on the Qur’ān alone to explain these contradictions is problematic due to the text’s atomistic fragmentary concept of time: There is a lack of division between past, present, and future.5 In an attempt to explain, and in a sense harmoni ze, what seem to be conflicting paradigms within the sacred text, Muslim exegetes developed various tools and doctrines to interpret the text. They used post-Qur’ānic accounts, including Muhammad’s sīra and aḥādīth, to dissolve the ambiguity and resolve the discord, arguing for understanding the Qur’ān through Muhammad’s life. They also relied on various doctrines or theories, such as asbāb al-nuzūl (occasions of revelation) and al-nāsikh wa-l-mansūkh (abrogation), to clarify confusing passages. Needless to mention, these sophisticated doctrines were established centuries after the traditional date of the Qur’ān’s compilation. This chapter does not rely on these post-Qur’ānic methods, although it highlights what they offer.6 Here, the effort will be centered on exegeting the Muslim sacred text alone, with a specific emphasis on the terms jihad, qitāl, fī sabīl Allāh, al-kāfirūn, ahl al-kitāb, and alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb, in an attempt to examine the Qur’ān’s statements regarding confrontation with non-Muslims in battle. This will then be compared and contrasted with the explanations offered by later Muslim commentators, classical and modern, from various doctrinal views within Islam.

Jihad and Qitāl in the Qur’ān The terms jihad and qitāl occur over 120 times in the Qur’ān in different forms.7 The word jihad stems from the Arabic root (j.h.d) while qitāl comes from (q.t.l). Jihad in Lisān al-ᶜarab means to strive, struggle, make every effort, or labor toward. In connection with confronting an enemy, it means to qātilah wa jāhid fī sabīl Allāh (fight [the enemy] and strive in the path of Allah).8 While jihad takes on various meanings, qitāl in Lisān al-ᶜarab means “fighting.”9 Concerning the term jihad in particular, it occurs in the Qur’ān in different forms: jāhad, jāhid, jihādan, yujāhid, mujāhid, among others. The command jāhidū (plural) or jāhid (singular) occurs more than 28 times.10 Some of these occurrences appear unrelated to fighting, such as, “Or did you suppose you should enter Paradise without God know who of you jāhadū (have struggled) and who are patient?” (Q 3:142);11 “and jāhidū (struggle) for God as is His due” (Q 22:78);

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“Whosoever jāhad (struggles), struggles only to his own gain” (Q 29:6); “We have charged man, that he be kind to his parents; but if they jāhadāk (strive with thee) to make thee associate with Me that whereof thou hast no knowledge, then do not obey them” (Q 29:8);12 “But those who jāhadū (struggle) in Our cause, surely We shall guide them in Our ways” (Q 29:69). These verses are not directly linked with fighting. Similarly, the Qur’ān uses the phrase jahd aymānihim five times (Q 5:53; 6:109; 16:38; 24:53; and 35:42) with no direct emphasis on going to battle.13 These verses, while using jihad and its derivatives, do not directly include going to war. Other verses, however, seem to use jihad to refer to struggling and striving in fighting, especially with al-kāfirūn (infidels) and al-munāfiqūn (hypocrites):14 “O Prophet, jāhid al-kuffār wa-l-munāfiqīn (struggle with the unbelievers and hypocrites), and be thou harsh with them” (Q 9:73);15 “So obey not al-kāfirīn, wa jāhidhum bi-h jihādan kabīran (but struggle with them thereby mightily)” (Q 25:52); “The believers are those who believe in God and His Messenger, then have not doubted, wa jāhadū (and have struggled) with their possessions and their selves) in the way of God” (Q 49:15).16 The notion of jihad as striving in Allah’s path with one’s possessions and self appears several times in Islam’s scripture. The text states that Allah prefers al-mujāhidūn fī sabīl Allāh: “God has faḍḍal (preferred in rank) those who struggle with their possessions and their selves over the ones who sit at home” (Q 4:95); Allah has preferred them over al-qāᶜidīn (those who sit at home). Striving with one’s self refers to those who struggle in battles for the sake of Allah, especially when contrasted with those who remain at home. Thus, the Qur’ānic term “jihad” involves armed fighting, at east in one of its meanings.17 The Qur’ān not only compares those who remain at home to those who strive (through jihad) in battles, but also compares those who sacrifice their possessions and lives for Allah’s cause to those who do not. According to sūrat al-Tawba, Allah places al-mujāhidūn (those striving) with their “possessions” and “selves” for his cause in a higher rank: “Those who believe,and have emigrated, wa jāhadū (and have struggled) in the way of God with their possessions and their selves are aᶜẓam daraja (mightier in rank),” and “they are al-fā’izūn (the triumphant)” (Q 9:20).18 The verse cannot be simply understood as referring to a personal inner jihad for a pious life, as it refers to ranks of believers who are willing to give their lives and possessions for Allah’s sake. A few verses earlier (Q 9:10–17), the two terms (jihad and fight) are mentioned in relation to battles: “qātilūhum (Fight them), and God will chastise them at your hands and degrade them, and He will help you against them … God knows not as yet those of you who jāhadū (have struggled).” This suggests a Qur’ānic literary link between jihad and qitāl. It is safe to assume that jihad, as a Qur’ānic term, encompasses various aspects of the

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Believer’s life, among which there is a notion of striving with one’s life and possessions in battles for Allah’s sake (Q 8:72; 9:88; 49:15). This Qur’ānic link between jihad and qitāl should be highlighted for at least one particular reason. Some religious enthusiasts (both Muslims and non-Muslims) emphasize that jihad only means fighting in battles for religious reasons, while others claim it refers to an inner struggle for piety within oneself.19 Both are inaccurate, especially based on the Qur’ān alone. It appears that, while the term jihad indicates various meanings, qitāl means combat, confrontation, and fighting in battles. The two terms clearly overlap, at least in this specific area; however, they are not synonymous, unless the meaning of jihad is reduced to physical confrontation and combat in battles. A comparison between the terms jihad and qitāl will clarify this. The Qur’ān refers to the jihād fī sabīl Allāh (Q 2:218; 3:35; 5:54; 8:72, 74; 9:19, 24, 41; 49:15; 60:1; 61:11), and to qitāl fī sabīl Allāh (Q 2:154, 190, 244, 246; 3:13, 146, 157, 169; 4:74–76, 84; 9:111; 61:4; 73:20). The Qur’ān’s command to fight in (Q 2:190, 244, 246) appears to match the use of jihad in the verses regarding the Believers who strive with their possessions and their lives in (Q 8:72; 9:88; 49:15). It appears that the term qitāl represents one of the different ways of jihad.20 Regarding the term qitāl in the Qur’ān, it occurs in this specific form 10 times, 9 of which are directly connected to waging wars against non-Muslims fī sabīl Allāh (Q 2:216, 217, 246; 3:121, 167; 4:77; 8:16, 65; 33:25; 47:20). The imperative qātil (fight) and its plural form qātilū occur in 39 verses, where the Believers are commanded to fight various groups: al-kuffār or al-kāfirūn (Q 8:38–39; 9:12, 123; 48:22), al-mushrikūn (Q 9:17, 36), alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb (Q 9:29), and the group that tabghī (transgresses) among the Believers (Q 49:9). These groups can only be fought fī sabīl Allāh (in the way of Allah) and the Believers should never transgress (Q 2:190). However, the Prophet is instructed to urge the Believers to fight (Q 8:65), as fighting in battle is ordained and prescribed for them (Q 2:216). In their fighting, if the Believers are killed, it is for the sake of Allah, and though they die, they are actually alive with him (Q 2:154; 3:169). Moreover, in their qitāl, the Believers are actually selling the present life for the one to come (Q 4:74). In fighting with al-kuffār (the infidels), the Believers are commanded to slay them wherever they find them (Q 4:89). The slaying of enemies in battle is not actually achieved by the believing warriors, but by Allah himself (Q 8:17), because when the Believers are killing or being killed it is for Allah’s sake and in his path (Q 3:195). Therefore, the term qitāl in the Qur’ān refers to armed fighting, specifically denoting such action for the sake of Allah or in his path. It is not synonymous with jihad, although it is likely close in meaning to armed jihad. In Islam’s scripture, Allah prescribed and ordained the qitāl and called his Prophet to urge the

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Believers to fight various groups, including the infidels, associators, and others. This leads us to other terms which often appear in verses concerned with qitāl or armed jihad. In what follows, the terms al-kāfirūn, ahl al-kitāb, alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb, and fī sabīl Allāh will be analyzed based on the Qur’ān alone, to examine the Qur’ān’s meaning of each.

Kāfirūn and Kuffār The Qur’ān calls the Believers to fight al-kāfirūn (Q 2:190–193). The words kāfirūn and kuffār are the masculine plural form of the singular term kāfir. The term kāfir appears in 132 verses in Islam’s scripture, while the verb kafar and the noun kufr in their various forms occur in 310 verses. In Lisān al-ᶜarab, Ibn Manẓūr writes that kufr is the opposite of faith—“We believed in God and disbelieved in the devil”—and the opposite of shukr (thanksgiving)—the kāfir is the person who is jāḥid li-anᶜum Allāh (unthankful for the favors and gifts of Allah). Ibn Manẓūr observes that the kāfirūn are those who allege that “any of the aḥkām (laws) of Allah are false.”21 It is worth noting that the Arabic dictionaries Lisān al-ᶜarab, Mukhtār al-Ṣaḥḥāḥ, and al-Muḥīṭ do not indicate precisely what the word kāfir means in the Qur’ān, nor do they affirm whether the word kāfir refers to any of the adherents of non-Muslim faiths. The question here is, who are the kāfirūn according to the Qur’ān? They are those who do not believe al-waḥy (the revelation) of Allah, and who call it siḥr mubīn (obvious sorcery) (Q 10:2). They are those who do not accept, trust, or believe the message Allah has sent, as they kafarū (doubted or rejected) the truth (Q 30:8; 34:34; 41:14; 43:24; 46:6). Consequently, they are the enemies of the true believers (Q 4:101). Allah created all human beings as one of only two kinds: mu’min (believing) and kāfir (Q 64:2). The kāfirūn are cursed by Allah and antithetical to those who believe (Q 2:89). During their earthly lives, Allah weakens the kayd (scheme) of the kāfirūn (Q 8:18), degrades them (Q 9:2), and harshly chastises and recompenses them (Q 9:26). In the afterlife, they will receive a severe, humiliating, and painful eternal punishment (Q 2:24, 90, 104; 3:131; 4:37, 102, 151, 161; 7:50; 8:7, 14; 9:49; 13:35; 14:2; 17:8; 18:100, 102; 42:26; 58:4, 5). The Qur’ān affirms that Satan is one of the kāfirūn (Q 2:34; 38:74). The murtadd (apostate) is also one of them (Q 2:217; 3:100). The kāfirūn are the enemies of Allah, his angels, and his apostles (Q 2:98; 4:37), and part of their punishment in this life is to be fought and killed by the Believers wherever they are found (Q 2:191). Moreover, al-kāfirūn are also the ẓālimūn (wrongdoers or evildoers) (Q 2:254), and Allah will not guide them (Q 2:264; 9:37; 16:107; 40:74) or bring them success (Q 28:82). They are those who refuse to fight for Allah’s cause (Q 3:13). The Qur’ān commands the Believers not to befriend the kāfirūn (Q 3:28).

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Allah does not love them (Q 3:32), as they do not obey Allah or his messenger (Q 3:32; 4:139). In fact, Allah deprives them (Q 3:141). Their destiny is the same as that of the munāfiqūn (the lukewarm or uncommitted Muslims, literally the hypocrites) (Q 4:140). According to the Qur’ān, the Believers are instructed to fight and kill the kāfirūn, but only when attacked. In sūrat al-Baqara (Q 2:190–193), the verses begin with an imperative verb in the second person plural form qātilū (fight), but proceed in what seems to be a conditional command. Fighting should be done only under three conditions: (1) For Allah’s cause (fī sabīl Allāh), (2) in self-defense (alladhīn yuqātilūnakum), and (3) the Believers should never initiate the attack (lā taᶜtadū), as Allah lā yuḥibb al-muᶜtadīn (does not love the attackers or transgressors). However, the passage is perplexing, especially when comparing verses 190 and 191. While (Q 2:190) ends with an affirmation that Allah does not love attackers, the following verse (Q 2:191) begins with a command for the Believers to kill the enemies: “And slay them wherever you come upon them.” It is unclear whether another command begins in verse 191, which only applies under similar conditions mentioned in verse 190, or whether it should be interpreted as a different command contradicting it. What is clear is the punishment reserved for the enemies: “Slay them … such is the recompense of al-kāfirīn.” The question remains whether the adherents of other faiths, such as Christians and Jews, are considered kāfirūn or kuffār in the Qur’ānic text. According to the verses mentioned above, it is obvious that the Muslim believers are not kāfirūn, because they believe the truth, revelation, and signs of Allah, and obey him and his messenger. The kāfirūn are those who do not believe in Allah’s revelations through his prophets. Because Jews and Christians received a divine revelation through Allah’s messengers in the past, the Qur’ān may, therefore, not categorize them as kuffār. It appears that there were kāfirūn and kuffār before Muhammad’s advent, as the Qur’ān mentions them during the days of Moses: “But did they not yakfurū (disbelieve) also in what Moses was given aforetime?” (Q 28:48; see also 39:71 and 41:7). This verse is pivotal, as it affirms that there were believers and kuffār before Muhammad. With this, it is reasonable to assume that Jews and Christians are not considered kāfirūn, and that at least some of them believed. However, the Qur’ān divides ahl al-kitāb (presumably the Scripture people, who are generally viewed as the Jews and Christians) into two groups: believers and kuffār. It states, “Whoso judges not according to what God has sent down— they are the kāfirūn” (Q 5:44).22 This verse refers to the Jews who do not judge according to the Torah as kāfirūn. A similar notion is found in (Q 29:47), where some believers are identified among ahl al-kitāb. Moreover, Islam’s scripture seems to command ahl al-kitāb, particularly the Jews,23 not only to believe in the revelations they received in the past, but also to affirm Allah’s truth revealed

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through Muhammad. If they do not, they are no better than the kāfirūn: “And believe in that I have sent down, confirming that which is with you, and be not the first to kāfir bi-h (disbelieve it)” (Q 2:41). According to this verse, Jews in particular (not all those of ahl al-kitāb) must either follow Muhammad’s revealed message or be considered kāfirūn. A few verses later in sūrat al-Baqara (Q 2:87–91), the Qur’ān requires the believers of ᶜĪsā (Jesus) and Mūsā to affirm Muhammad’s message as well. Thus, the Qur’ān demands Christians and Jews to believe its message lest they become kāfirūn because its revelation confirms what was revealed in the past to them (Q 2:89). According to these verses, kāfirūn is a term, which describes those who believe in neither Allah nor Muhammad. This is evident in sūrat al-Fatḥ (Q 48:13): “Whoso believes not in God and His Messenger, We have prepared for the kāfirīn (unbelievers) a Blaze.” To conclude this section regarding the kāfirūn, there are three points to make. First, considering the usage of the term kāfirūn and its derivatives in the Qur’ān, it is reasonable to assume that that there were believers and kāfirūn before the advent of Muhammad. The believers were those who accepted the truth revealed through the prophets sent by the same divine being who revealed the Qur’ān. Before the revelation of the Qur’ān, the kāfirūn were those who rejected these earlier revelations. Second, by the time of Muhammad, the meaning of kāfirūn encompassed those who did not believe in his message (Q 48:13).24 Muhammad’s message is the latest truth revealed by Allah, which is consistent with all previous revelations. Third, accepting the truth revealed through Muhammad is a sign of belief and thanksgiving, while rejecting it represents kufr wa juḥūd (unbelief and ingratitude).25 A kāfir in the Qur’ān is a person who rejects both Muhammad as a messenger with a divine revelation and Allah as the true revealer. A kāfir is unbeliever, ungrateful, and transgressor.26

Ahl al-kitāb The expression ahl al-kitāb occurs in 33 verses in the Qur’ān. There is a group of people among ahl al-kitāb that has kafarū (turned to disbelief, or become unbelievers or infidels); they, like the mushrikīn (associators), do not wish the Believers any good (Q 2:105; 59:2; 98:1). This unbelieving group of ahl al-kitāb, who are identified as kafarū, are not only brothers of al-munāfiqīn (the lukewarm Believers) (Q 59:11), but are also equated with al-mushrikūn (associators), as both reject the truth (Q 98:1). Like al-mushrikūn, this disbelieving group among ahl al-kitāb will receive eternal judgment in hellfire, as they are the worst of all created beings (Q 98:6). Some of ahl al-kitāb “disbelieve and reject the signs of Allah” (Q 3:70, 98). Others hide the truth or clothe it with falsehood (3:71).27 While most are

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fāsiqūn (wicked, ungodly, or evildoers), there are some true believers among ahl al-kitāb (Q 3:110, 199; 5:59). According to these Qur’ānic verses, it is reasonable to argue that the term ahl al-kitāb refers to a community of people who received a divine message prior to Islam through one of Allah’s apostles, and that this group is comprised of at least two kinds: believers and unbelievers. The Qur’ān addresses ahl al-kitāb in a positive manner , noting their com mon ground with the Believers through worshipping none but Allah (Q 3:64). Moreover, speaking of debating with them, the Believers are commanded not to dispute with them except “in the fairer manner ,” unless it is with the ẓalamū (wrongdoers) among them (Q 29:46). The Qur’ān clearly includes Christians in ahl al-kitāb. It warns them not to commit excesses in their religion by viewing Jesus as more than Allah’s messenger or by stating thalātha (three, presumably the Trinity), since Allah has no son (Q 4:171). This verse references Jesus’ followers, identifying them as ahl al-kitab. In addition, the Jews are included within ahl al-kitāb as it commands ahl al-kitāb to yuqīmū (stand fast or apply) the Torah and Injil (Q 5:68). Further proof is found in sūrat al-Mā’ida (Q 5:75, 77, 79); while (Q 5:77) speaks of ahl al-kitāb in general, (Q 5:75) addresses the Christians, and (Q 5:79) mentions the Jews. Ahl al-kitāb, therefore, includes both groups, and probably more. In an interesting turn, the Qur’ān suggests that Muhammad was sent from Allah not only to the Believers, but also to ahl al-kitāb: “our messenger has come to you to proclaim for you many things you have concealed in the scripture” (Q 5:15), indicating that Muhammad came to reveal to ahl al-kitāb what they hid from their scriptures. The same verse continues, “There has come to you from God a light, and a Book Manifest,” referring to the guidance provided to ahl al-kitāb through the Messenger of the Qur’ān. Although the Qur’ān includes favorable commentary regarding ahl al-kitāb, it also warns of a group among them: Out of envy and selfishness, this group desires to lure the Believers back to infidelity (Q 2:109; 3:69). They hinder and obstruct the Believers from sabīl Allāh (Q 3:99), and disapprove of the Believers due to their belief in Allah (Q 5:59). Had ahl al-kitāb believed and acted righteously, Allah would have forgiven them and admitted them to the gardens of delight (Q 5:65). Regrettably, some of them aided the enemies of the Believers; in return, Allah allowed their murder or imprisonment at the hands of the Believers (Q 33:26). The Qur’ān refers to a biblical narrative to demonstrate the transgression of some of ahl al-kitāb, specifically Jews, who asked Moses for a sign or miracle. Despite Allah’s demonstrations of power, they worshipped a golden calf (Q 4:153). The Qur’ān is clear that ahl al-kitāb must come to believe (Q 4:159), which suggests their belief does not meet Allah’s requirement. Islam’s scripture

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separates them from the Believers and claims that they are powerless regarding Allah’s favor or bounty (Q 57:29). In conclusion, ahl al-kitāb as a Qur’ānic term describes a community of people who received a divine revelation28 through messengers sent by the same deity that revealed the Qur’ān. This community includes two groups: (1) believers who share a common belief with the Qur’ānic believers—for example, the belief that Allah has no partner or son—and (2) others who have rejected at least part of the true faith and are therefore less favored. This unbelieving group is identified as those who kafarū (rejected true faith), who, like al-mushrikūn, will be judged and eternally punished. Those unbelievers among ahl al-kitāb, out of envy and jealousy, attempt to turn the Qur’ānic believers away from their faith. The Qur’ān speaks of at least two religious groups within ahl al-kitāb—Christians and Jews— which may suggest that there are both believers and kuffār among the adherents of the two faiths.29 Concerning fighting ahl al-kitāb, the Qur’ān does not include any verse which specifically commands fighting them; however, it does instruct fighting alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb (Q 9:29). The terms ahl al-kitāb and alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb appear to be related, yet the following section will demonstrate the literary differences.30

Alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb Some scholars understand the Qur’ānic expression alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb to mean the same as ahl al-kitāb.31 It is important to analyze the term alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb as a Qur’ānic theme, and compare it with ahl al-kitāb. It occurs 19 times in the Qur’ān. In the context of changing the qibla (prayer direction), the text reads that alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb know well the truth about it (Q 2:144), but they do not want to follow it even though they see divine signs (Q 2:145).32 The Believers appear as an opposing camp to alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb (Q 3:20). The same verse commands the Believers to call them to submit to faith, identifying them as misguided: “And say to those who have been given the Book and to the common folk: a-aslamtum (have you surrendered?). If they have surrendered, they are rightly guided.” The verse suggests that alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb are not rightly guided unless they submit and, presumably, accept the message of the Qur’ān.33 Although Allah covenanted with alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb, they hid and threw away his covenant instead of proclaiming it (Q 3:187). They were the witnesses of Allah’s covenant, but they deviated from the right path (Q 3:99).34 Alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb knew the truth, as they received guidance and clear direction from Allah in the revelations prior to the Qur’ān (Q 4:131), but they did not follow it. The Qur’ān addresses alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb, calling them to believe in the revelation found in the Qur’ān, as it affirms what they received, and warns them greatly

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against rejecting it as aṣḥāb al-sabt (literally the Sabbath people or the fellows of the Sabbath) (Q 4:47).35 In a slightly different form, the Qur’ān refers to alladhīn ūtū naṣīban min al-kitāb (those who were given a share of the book). Instead of believing the truth revealed to them aboutAllah, they believe in al-jibt wa-l-ṭāghūt (jibt is unclear, while ṭāghūt is often translated as Satan) (Q 4:51).36 They attempt to turn al-kāfirūn away from the message of the Qur’ān, claiming that these unbelievers are better than the Believers (Q 4:51). The Qur’ān affirms that inn al-dīn ᶜind Allāh al-Islām (the religion with Allah is Islam), but alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb dissented from it (Q 3:19). This may suggest that the divine revelations before the Qur’ān were also “Islam,” and that the true believers among alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb were, thus, considered believing “Muslims.”37 The Qur’ānic believers are warned not to follow a specific group among alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb or they risk becoming kāfirūn (Q 3:100). Some of alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb rejected Muhammad, although he came as a messenger from Allah confirming what they already had in their book (Q 2:101). They received a portion of al-kitāb (likely refers here to pre-Qur’ān revelations), and were called to kitāb Allāh (presumably the Qur’ān) to use it to settle their disagreements; however, some of them rejected the new revelation (or book) (Q 3:23; 4:44). In sūrat al-Muddaththir (Q 74:31), Allah “sends astray” and “guides” whomever he wishes. He appointed angels as aṣḥāb al-nār (holders or keepers of hellfire) in order to: (1) fitnat al-kuffār (tempt or disturb the infidels), (2) reassure alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb about the faith, (3) strengthen the faith of the Believers, and (4) deal with alladhīn fī qulūbihim maraḍ (those who are sick in their hearts). The Qur’ān observes that alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb only became divided and began to dispute after al-bayyina (clear evidence) was given to them (Q 98:4). Still, the Qur’ān affirms that it was uḥill (made lawful) for the Believers to take al-ṭayyibāt (all good things) of alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb, as well as their women for marriage (Q 5:5). Yet, the Believers should expect that alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb as well as alladhīn ashrakū (al-mushrikūn, i.e., associators) would grieve and harm them (Q 3:186). Therefore, Believers are allowed to interact on various levels with alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb, but the Qur’ān warns them of the consequences. Accordingly, the Believers have to persevere in faith, guarding themselves against evil. They should not become like alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb, whose hearts grew hard because they rebelled. Instead, the Believers’ hearts should takhshaᶜ (feel humbled) for Allah’s remembrance (Q 57:16). The Qur’ān combines al-kuffār and alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb in an interesting assertion. Within these two groups are people who mock the Believers’ religion; the Believers are instructed not to choose them as friends (Q 5:57). In fact, there is a specific group among alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb which should be fought by the Believers—a group with four characteristics: (1) they do not believe in Allah,

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(2) they do not believe in the Last Day, (3) they do not forbid what Allah and his Apostle forbid, and (4) they do not follow (or practice) the religion of truth (Q 9:29). It appears that the qitāl should not be directed against all those of alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb, but only against this specific group, which meets these four characteristics. The Believers should fight them until they pay the jizya (tribute) out of hand and have been degraded. According to these verses onalladhīn ūtū al-kitāb, this Qur’ānic term overlaps with ahl al-kitāb, although it retains some distinction. The two terms are treated in a similar manner if we compare (Q 2:144 and 2:145) with (Q 2:109 and 3:69), or (Q 3:20) with (Q 5:19). However, an important distinction to note is that ahl al-kitāb is used both positively and negatively, while the term alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb is primarily used negatively. If ahl al-kitāb refers to a community including both the faithful and faithless, believers and nonbelievers (Q 3:64; 3:110, 199; 5:59), alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb describes unfavorably some people who received earlier revelations: Though they knew the truth, they hid it; though they received divine revelations through Allah’s messengers, they were not rightly guided (unless they accept the message of the Qur’ān); though they covenanted with Allah, they broke the covenant and disobeyed him, as they believed and followed the devil, and in their evil deeds they even attempted to deceive al-kāfirūn (the infidels) to lead them astray from the truth. The alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb are most likely what the Qur’ān refers to as ṭā’ifa min ahl al-kitāb (a party of the People of the Book) (Q 3:69, 72). While the Qur’ān affirms the existence of believers among ahl al-kitāb, it refers to an evil ṭā’ifa (party) among them, using the term alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb (Q 2:105, 109; 3:75). This ṭā’ifa received a divine message, but did not believe it (Q 3:70, 71, 98, 99, 110; 5:65). They have kafarū (rejected the faith) (Q 59:2; 98:6) although they are from ahl al-kitāb. The Qur’ān instructs the Believers to fight alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb, not ahl al-kitāb (Q 9:29). While Muhammad was sent by Allah to ahl al-kitāb (Q 5:15, 19), he was rejected by alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb (Q 2:101). When debating with the People of the Book, the Qur’ān exhorts the Believers to use the best manners—here it uses the term ahl al-kitāb (Q 29:46), which appears to be an honoring term. Those scripture people who need to strengthen their faith and trust in Allah are identified as alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb, not ahl al-kitāb (Q 74:31). Those who will never follow the truth revealed by the Qur’ān, although they saw divine signs, are alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb, not ahl al-kitāb (Q 2:144, 145). When the Qur’ān warns the Believers against obeying the People of the Book, it uses the term alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb (Q 3:100). Those who seek the wrong path and desire to lead the Believers astray are alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb, not ahl al-kitāb (Q 4:44). The true believers among the People of the Book are identified through the term ahl al-kitāb, rather than alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb (Q 3:113, 199).

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Moreover, there is an observation regarding the Arabic grammar used in alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb. The verb ūtū is a third person masculine plural passive perfect verb. It could be argued that using a passive structure suggests a negative connotation regarding alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb. While ahl al-kitāb and alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb refer to scripture people (sometimes without any precise distinction), when the Qur’ān refers to a negative aspect about the adherents of previous revelations, it uses the passive structure alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb. In concluding this section, it appears that, by analyzing the Qur’ān alone, there is a traceable coherent theme regarding the People of the Book. They are identified as ahl al-kitāb and alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb. When the text speaks of the unbelievers among them, it uses the term alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb, rather than ahl al-kitāb. As for fighting the People of the Book, the Believers are not instructed to fight all those of ahl al-kitāb, but rather a specific group among them, labeled as alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb, which is characterized by four specific traits as mentioned in (Q 9:29).

Fī sabīl Allāh The term fī sabīl Allāh as a Qur’ānic phrase is important to study, as it is often used in relation to jihad and qitāl. In this exact form, it occurs in 65 verses in the Qur’ān. In Lisān al-ᶜarab, Ibn Manẓūr states that the word sabīl is path, and could be masculine or feminine. He observes that the expression sabīl Allāh means “the path of guidance, for which Allah has called [people],” and that any path intended for Allah’s sake and for being righteous is fī sabīl Allāh. Linking the term jihad with fī sabīl Allāh, he points out that spending fī sabīl Allāh means to spend fī al-jihād, as jihad is the sabīl (path) in which we fight.38 Thus, Ibn Manẓūr links jihad, qitāl, and fī sabīl Allāh. In al-Qāmūs al-muḥīṭ, al-Fīrūzābādī emphasizes the same link between jihad and fī sabīl Allāh, as he asserts that anfiqū (spend) fī sabīl Allāh means both spend in al-jihād and in every good which is commanded by Allah; however, “it is used more often in relation to jihad.”39 Thus, the phrase fī sabīl Allāh refers to what aligns with the commands of Allah and his will, and is usually used in relation to jihad and qitāl. What does Islam’s scripture tell about fī sabīl Allāh? In the Qur’ān, the Believers are commanded to fight fī sabīl Allāh (Q 2:190, 244, 246; 3:13, 146, 167; 4:74, 75, 84, (94); 9:111; 61:4; 73:20). In battles, they are killed fī sabīl Allāh (Q 2:154; 3:157, 169; 47:4). Allah instructs them to spend of their possessions fī sabīl Allāh (Q 2:195, 261, 262; 8:60; 47:38; 57:10), and to go to jihad fī sabīl Allāh (Q 4:95; 5:35, 54; 9:19, 24; 60:1). They are exhorted to strive (in jihad) with their lives and their possessions fī sabīl Allāh (Q 9:41, 81; 49:15; 61:11). The phrase fī sabīl Allāh is important to the extent that it relates to various other aspects of the Believers’ lives. They are commanded to yanfurū (go forth

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[in battles]) fī sabīl Allāh (Q 9:38). Those who believe, emigrate, and jāhidū (strive) fī sabīl Allāh are those who see the mercy of Allah (Q 2:218; 8:72, 74). The Believers, at times, may have to forsake their homes and emigrate fī sabīl Allāh (Q 4:100). They are, at other times, expelled from their homes, or forced to emigrate and suffer harm, also, fī sabīl Allāh (Q 3:195; 22:58; 24:22). The phrase fī sabīl Allāh appears central to every Believer’s existence. To further understand fī sabīl Allāh in the Qur’ān, one should examine the occurrences of its opposite, as contrasts provide a broader understanding of any given term.40 Islam’s scripture sets sabīl Allāh against sabīl al-mufsidīn (the way of the people of corruption) (Q 7:142), and against sabīl al-ghayy (the way of error or confusion) (Q 7:146). Those who forsake sabīl Allāh are considered blind and aḍall sabīlan (even more astray from the right path) (Q 17:72; 25:17; 38:26; 40:37). The Qur’ān contrasts the Believers with al-kuffār (infidels): the former fight fī sabīl Allāh, while the latter fī sabīl al-ṭāghūt (in the path of the devil) (Q 4:76),41 preventing access to sabīl Allāh (Q 2:217; 13:33; 14:3; 22:9, 25). When the Believers obey man instead ofAllah, they are led astray fromsabīl Allāh (Q 6:116). There are two contrasting groups: those Believers who combat fī sabīl Allāh and the fi’a kāfira (disbelieving camp, or infidels) (Q 3:13). Comparing the Believers with the People of the Book, the Qur’ān observes that many of the Jewish rabbis and Christian monks are greedy and yaṣuddūn (hinder) people from sabīl Allāh (Q 9:34). Those who reject sabīl Allāh will face ᶜadhāb al-ḥarīq (the punishment of the hellfire) (Q 22:9) and receive an eternal judgment by Allah (Q 25:17). In concluding this section, it is safe to assume thatfī sabīl Allāh is a key phrase in the Qur’ānic religious ideology, around which various aspects of a Believer’s everyday life. This phrase controls the deeds, intentions, and desires of Believers and examines whether they are done according to Allah’s divine will. The phrase does not only mean in Allah’s way, but also in the cause of Allah, for the sake of Allah, and according to Allah’s will. To please Allah is to walk and live fī sabīl Allāh, which is reflected in a person’s works and intents.

Exegeting the Qur’ān: How Does It All Fit Together? The Qur’ān contains different groups of verses regarding fighting non-Muslims. When relying on the text alone, these groups of verses seem contradictory: some call for fighting various non-Muslim groups, while others call for tolerance, coexistence, and religious freedom. The Qur’ānic term for fighting is qitāl; Allah prescribed it and called the Prophet to exhort the Believers to fight. On the other hand, jihad carries many meanings including the armed kind, which appears to be a synonym for qitāl. There are several Qur’ānic terms, which occur often in relation to jihad and qitāl.

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The terms kāfirūn or kuffār refer to unbelievers. The Believers are instructed to fight and kill the kuffār only in self-defense and without aggression (Q 2:190– 193). There were both believers and kuffār before the revelation of the Qur’ān. By the advent of Muhammad as Allah’s apostle, the term came to include those who did not affirm and believe in his message. A kāfir is one who does not believe in Muhammad as a prophet sent by Allah to proclaim the message of truth (Q 48:13). Accordingly, it could be argued that ahl al-kitāb are considered kāfirūn unless they acknowledge and affirm the Prophet’s message, because he came confirming what was already revealed to them (Q 2:89). The Believers are also exhorted to fight a group called alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb, comprised of people who rejected the true faith from among ahl al-kitāb. While the Qur’ān does not call for fighting all the People of the Book, it does instruct fighting against those among them who are characterized by four specific traits (Q 9:29). The dissonance between the various Qur’ānic verses perplexes the Muslim mufassirūn (exegetes). To explain the seemingly conflicting verses, they use various tools and doctrines to unlock the mysteries of the text. In what follows, we turn to Muslim exegetes, classical and modern, to examine their views regarding the Qur’ānic passages on fighting the non-Muslims. After exploring their interpretations, a comparison between the Qur’ān’s meaning and its mufassirūn suggestions will emerge.

Muslim Mufassirūn on Jihad and Qitāl in the Qur’ān: An Analysis There is an obvious disconnect between the Muslim exegetes’ interpretations and the Qur’ān’s text regarding qitāl. While the previous section focused on the words of the Qur’ān, this section centers on what the Muslim mufassirūn write about it. In what follows, I will focus on five verses pertaining to confrontation with non-Muslims. I will examine what six Muslim commentators, classical and modern, write about these verses. After a brief explanation of the six mufassirūn and my reasons for choosing them, I will analyze the five selected verses, aiming to contrast the Qur’ān with the post-Qur’ānic interpretation of it.

Six Muslim Mufassirūn The six mufassirūn consulted in the following analysis are Muqātil ibn Sulaymān (d. 150/767), al-Ṭabarī (d. 310/923), al-Zamakhsharī (d. 538/1144), al-Qurṭubī (d. 671/1273), Rashīd Riḍā (d. 1354/1935), and al-Ṭabāṭabā’ī (d. 1401/1981). These particular commentators were not chosen arbitrarily—they represent different

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periods and trends of Islamic exegesis. Muqātil serves as an example of narrative style, as he almost paraphrases the Qur’ānic verses in his explanation. His tafsīr is one of the earliest available commentaries on the Qur’ān.42 Al-Ṭabarī represents a more detailed and developed stage oftafsīr. He relies on prophetic aḥādīth and sīra, and interacts with debates and provides solutions to disputed religious and legal matters. He also uses various explanations offered by earlier ᶜulamā’ and fuqahā’ (Muslim scholars and jurists). Although he writes in a narrative style as Muqātil does, his primary concern is the Qur’ān’s meaning.43 Al-Zamakhsharī embodies the muᶜtazilī Muslim tradition. He heavily emphasizes human reason. When faced with different interpretations, he resorts to what makes sense.44 Al-Qurṭubī is a renowned apologist, who defends his sunnī (precisely mālikī) views against others within Islam, such as shīᶜī and muᶜtazilī. He marks a significant development in the Muslim tafsīr as a noted mufassir, muḥaddith (scholar of ḥadīth), and faqīh (jurist). His voluminous tafsīr uses various post-Qur’ānic tools to explain the text: Asbāb al-nuzūl, qirā’āt (variant readings), explaining the grammar of the verse and reflecting on the sayings of al-salaf al-ṣāliḥ (the pious predecessors).45 The last two commentators in the list are from the twentieth century. Rashīd Riḍā, a diligent student of the famous reformer Muḥammad ᶜAbduh, takes a modern sunnī approach with his well-known Tafsīr al-manār. He is known for formulating an intellectual discourse to present Islam in modern contexts affected by Western ideas, which is reflected in the questions he answers in his tafsīr, especially related to jihad and war.46 Lastly, the noted shīᶜī al-Ṭabāṭabā’ī represents a modern Shiite approach in his Tafsīr al-mīzān. These selected mufassirūn represent both medieval and modern scholars, and reflect sunnī, shīᶜī, and muᶜtazalī approaches to Qur’ānic exegesis. In addition to these six commentators, I will consult, to a lesser extent, the commentaries of Mujāhid ibn Jabr (d. ca. 104/722), the shīᶜī Abū Ḥamza al-Thumālī (d. 148/767), Sufyān al-Thawrī (d. 161/778), the influential ṣūfī Sahl al-Tustarī (d. ca. 283/896), the shīᶜī al-Qummī (d. ca. 307/919), Abū Isḥāq al-Zajjāj (d. 311/923), Ibn Ibrahim al-Thaᶜlabī (d. 427/1035), the ṣūfī Abū al-Qāsim al-Qushayrī (d. 465/1072), and ᶜAbdullāh al-Bayḍāwī (d. 685/1286).

Fight in Self-Defense and Do Not Attack: Is the Qur’ān Sufficient? Consider the example of sūrat al-Baqara (Q 2:190). The verse begins with a command: “And fight in the way of God with those; who fight with you.” The verse seems to allow fighting only in self-defense, not only because of its command to fight “those who fight” the Believers, but also because it is followed by a second command: wa lā taᶜtadū (and aggress not). This is additionally followed by another affirmation that inn Allāh lā yuḥibb al-muᶜtadīn (Allah loves not the

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aggressors). Based on this verse, it is safe to assume that initiating battles is prohibited by Islam’s scripture, as Allah does not love the attackers. When the mufassirūn interpret this verse, they provide different explanations. Muqātil ibn Sulaymān (d. 150/767) limits the verse to a specific month. He observes that Allah forbade the Prophet and the Believers to fight in al-shahr al-ḥarām (the sacred month).47 There is no mention in the verse of the sacred month, but Muqātil includes it in his interpretation, implying that fighting is permitted as long as it is not during the sacred month. He seems to read the verse as it is, but his interpretation includes some elements, which are not found in the text, most likely to address the immediate audience. Al-Ṭabarī (d. 310/923), on the other hand, states that this verse is mansūkh (abrogated) by sūrat al-Tawba (Q 9:36), which reads: “And fight the mushrikūn totally.” For him, the command in (Q 2:190) is annulled by (Q 9:36).48 Like al-Ṭabarī, al-Zamakhsharī (d. 538/1144), a muᶜtazilī commentator, observes that this verse is abrogated, but unlike al-Ṭabarī, he argues that the abrogating verse is the verse, which follows it (Q 2:191). He writes that “slay them wherever you come upon them” (Q 2:191) commands the Believers to kill al-kuffār (infidels) anywhere and during both al-ḥill wa-l-ḥirm (the unsacred and sacred months).49 According to this view, fighting is permitted against the infidels everywhere and at any time, a belief that is shared by al-Thaᶜlabī (d. 427/1035).50 Al-Qurṭubī (d. 671/1273) offers a more sophisticated analysis of this verse. Relying on Muhammad’s sīra and doctrine of abrogation, he asserts that this verse is abrogated because fighting in self-defense was only commanded until the revelation of sūrat al-Tawba (Q 9:5): “slay al-mushrikīn wherever you find them,” or (Q 9:36) in other interpretations.51 Bayḍāwī (d. 685/1286) does not use the word naskh, but suggests that the phrase “fight those who fight you” only applied until the Believers were commanded to fight the mushrikūn totally, or it also meant, in a different interpretation, to fight those who you expect to attack you (except women, children, monks, and older people).52 Thus, the verse which simply appears, at first glance, to command the Believers to fight only in self-defense finds its application limited by exegetical and doctrinal considerations in the hands of these classical Muslim commentators. Not only classical mufassirūn, but also modern exegetes treat the Qur’ān similarly. Rashīd Riḍā (d. 1354/1935), the renowned sunnī commentator, does not write clearly of abrogating or abrogated verses, but uses asbāb al-nuzūl (occasions of revelations) in addition to Muhammad’s sīra and aḥādīth. He claims that the reason for this verse’ s revelation is to encourage the Muslims who fear al-qitāl (fighting) during the sacred month and in the sacred mosque. It permits them to fight, as it is a battle in self-defense in the path of Allah, so that they can worship in bayt Allāh (the house of Allah).53 Riḍā reads into the text and indicates that any

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war fought by the Muslims could be considered defensive, because their goal was to worship Allah and their actions were therefore legitimate and noble. The verse does not provide these specifics, but Riḍā offers them in his interpretation. The Qur’ānic text alone seems insufficient for him as a source of interpretation, so he relies on post-Qur’ānic materials.54 The second modern commentator is al-Ṭabāṭabā’ī (d. 1401/1981), a wellknown shīᶜī exegete. In his commentary on (Q 2:190), he disagrees with the claim that verse (Q 2:191) abrogates it. He argues that the purpose of this passage is to legalize qitāl mushrikī Makka (fighting the associators of Mecca), excluding women and children, 55 although he does not mention the source of such an assertion. In a unique and interesting turn, he states that the prohibition is against al-qatl (killing), rather than al-qitāl (fighting). In his interpretation, he provides various elements which are not present in the text, such as: places (Mecca), people (women and children), and limitations (fighting and not killing). Though he disregards the abrogation theory, he still does not adhere to the text. Based on these various interpretations, the inevitable conclusion is that, for these commentators, the Qur’ān cannot be explained without relying on postQur’ānic materials. Muslim interpretations reflect the social and political contexts during the time of writing, rather than what the immediate text seems to tell.56 While the Qur’ān forbids fighting except in self-defense, the Muslim mufassirūn permit it and provide specifics, which are not found in the sacred text. They read the text through post-Qur’ānic materials and offer their own opinions. The dissonance is obvious between their statements and what the Qur’ān seems to state, which the following example will demonstrate.

No Compulsion in Religion: Yes, but When and How? In sūrat al-Baqara (Q 2:256), the Qur’ān reads lā ikrāh fī al-dīn (there is no compulsion in religion). This verse seems to affirm clearly that people can freely choose their religion. It serves as a great reference in Islam’s scripture for religious freedom: “Rectitude (the right path) has become clear from error,” suggesting that right and wrong are clear for everyone to choose. However, the Muslim mufassirūn offer a different understanding. Muqātil observes that lā ikrāh fī al-dīn means there is no compulsion to anyone baᶜd islām al-ᶜarab (after the Arabs accept Islam) if they accept to pay the jizya.57 His interpretation is confusing, as he adds an element of time, which is clearly not found in the text. For him, the verse is now conditional—it is only applicable after a certain time. Was there, then, compulsion before the Islamization of the Arabs?58 Although Muqātil tends to paraphrase the text, he also reads into it and interpolates interpretive elements. Al-Ṭabarī, relying on various interpretive devices

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including sīra and ḥadīth, observes that this verse is related to a specific historical incident.59 He explains that many earlier exegetes assert this verse is abrogated by the revelation of Sūrat Barā’a (al-Tawba). He agrees with them and offers various supporting prophetic aḥādīth.60 In what seems as an affirmation of religious freedom, al-Zamakhsharī explains, “Allah never wanted the matters of faith to be established on coercion, compulsion, or obligation, but on self-choice and persuasion, which also appears in Sūrat Yūnus (Q 10:99).”61 He appears to argue for the free choice of religion. However, he observes that some commentators believe this verse was abrogated after the revelation of sūrat al-Tawba (Q 9:73).62 Thus, the Qur’ānic verse that could be understood as an open invitation for religious freedom became a conditional clause in the hands of post-Qur’ānic commentators. Al-Qurṭubī, in his detailed and sophisticated explanation, relies on asbāb al-nuzūl and the sīra. He points out that there are various interpretations of this verse: Some say it is abrogated after the revelation of sūrat al-Tawba (Q 9:73), some disagree and state it only relates to ahl al-kitāb, and others believe it only addresses scripture people while (Q 9:73) addresses al-mushrikūn and al-kuffār.63 Al-Qurṭubī provides various interpretations and arguments regarding a straightforward verse. The uncomplicated verse becomes restricted, conditional, and dependent upon post-Qur’ānic materials in the hands of the Muslim exegetes.64 Modern commentators are not much different. In Tafsīr al-manār, Riḍā takes an apologetic approach. He states that this verse affirms the tolerance of Islam and does not indicate whether the verse is abrogated. He then compares Islam with Christianity, insisting that al-naṣārā (presumably Christians) used to force people to join their religion, as they elevated politics above the matters of faith, but this is not the case in Islam. To him, Islam requires obedience of the soul, which cannot be achieved through coercion.65 He observes that after the raid to the Jews of Banū al-Naḍīr, some Muslims attempted to force non-Muslims to convert to Islam, and that was the day when Allah revealed lā ikrāh fī al-dīn.66 Reflecting on Muhammad’s sīra, Riḍā argues that, because this verse was revealed in Medina (when Muhammad was strong as a community leader), it is obvious that Islam does not allow forced conversion. Riḍā insists that Islam did not spread by the sword or the shedding of blood. He believes Muslims should never force conversion, as the Christians do.67 The arguments of Riḍā reflect his day: he is responding to non-Muslim claims against Islam. He brings his social context and political debates to his interpretations of the text. Obviously, unlike modern exegetes, classical commentators did not feel the urgency to respond to questions about forcing conversion or whether Islam spread by the sword. The modern sunnī apologetic approach of Riḍā is similar to that of the shīᶜī al-Ṭabāṭabā’ī, who rejects any notion of abrogation regarding this verse and insists

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that lā ikrāh fī al-dīn denies any kind of compulsion in conversion to Islam. In his assessment, this verse cannot be abrogated whether by the Sword Verse (Q 9:5) or by any other verse, as it affirms that “Rectitude has become clear from error,” which explains why there can be no forced conversion. For him, this verse demonstrates the tolerance of Islam and proves that the religion did not spread through violence, as faith relates to the “heart” and does not call for any coercion.68 Al-Ṭabāṭabā’ī deviates from the classical shīᶜī authority al-Qummī (d. ca. 307/919) who argues that there is no compulsion only until “rectitude has become distinct from error ,” which suggests conditions and restrictions in applying the verse.69 Al-Ṭabāṭabā’ī and Riḍā are clear examples of modern commentators who serve as apologists defending Islam against harsh non-Muslim charges. They adopt an interpretation, which appeals to their contemporary era, providing explanations, which completely differ from those provided by classical commentators. There is a dissonance not only between what the Qur’ān says and what the mufassirūn offer, but also between the commentators themselves. Studying (Q 2:256) demonstrates once again the conflict between the Qur’ānic text and its exegetes.70

Fight Them Until There Is No Opposition In sūrat al-Anfāl (Q 8:39), the Qur’ān commands the Believers, wa qātilūhum ḥattā lā takūn fitna wa yakūn al-dīn kulluh li-llāh (fight them, till there is no persecution and the religion is Allah’s entirely). When compared with the previous verse, this verse calls for fighting alladhīn kafarū (or al-kāfirūn). This command is not bounded, restricted, or limited by time or place; instead, it appears as an open call for the Believers to fight the infidels. Muqātil ibn Sulaymān notes that this verse calls the Believers to fight al-mushrikūn (associators) until there is no fitna, which refers to shirk (worshiping others or associating partners with Allah, like polytheism). He mentions al-mushrikūn, although the verse addresses al-kuffār, conflating the two terms. For Muqātil, the goal of fighting the mushrikūn is to bring them to al-tawḥīd (strict monotheism)—wa yakūn al-dīn kulluh li-llāh—meaning there is no one worshipped but Allah.71 While Muqātil simply paraphrases the Qur’ānic text, he still introduces concepts (like shirk and tawḥīd) that are not mentioned in the text. In agreement with Muqātil, al-Ṭabarī observes that this verse calls the Believers to fight until there is no shirk and no one is worshiped except Allah, so that the society will flourish and the scourge of shirk will vanish from the land.72 Like Muqātil, al-Ṭabarī defines fitna as shirk, but unlike Muqātil, he uses various aḥādīth to support his assertion.73 Classical mufassirūn, unlike modern ones, seem to prioritize narrative above doctrine and dogma.74 The verse continues, fa-in intahaw, in what is usually rendered, “if [the kāfirūn] give over.” It is unclear whether

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they give over their shirk or qitāl, unbelief or fighting, although al-Ṭabarī claims the phrase references the ceasing of their fitna (shirk). Even if the mushrikūn quit fighting, it is still “farḍan (sacred duty) on the believers to fight them until they become Muslims.”75 Thus, one of the implications of al-Ṭabarī’s interpretation is that battles against the mushrikūn should never end until they accept Islam, regardless of whether the enemy surrenders. Ultimately, the objective is for the religion to be Allah’s completely. Al-Zamakhsharī reinforces the idea that fighting should continue until there is no polytheism “and Islam remains alone.” In agreement with al-Ṭabarī, he suggests that fa-in intahaw (if they give over) means when the mushrikūn reject their kufr (unbelief) and accept Islam.76 Al-Qurṭubī does not comment on this verse, referring to his explanation in sūrat al-Baqara (Q 2:190–193). Al-Ṭabāṭabā’ī briefly interprets it and indicates that the fitna mentioned in this verse is al-shirk. He observes that this verse proves that the religion of Muhammad will prevail so that there will be no mushrik (associator) on earth.77 In Tafsīr al-manār, Riḍā explains that this verse is a “divine order” commanding Muhammad to continue fighting until an tazūl al-fitna fī al-dīn, which refers to the persecution the believers will receive from those who would force them to leave Islam.78 According to this commentary, fitna is not shirk; it is the persecution of Believers. In this, he disagrees with earlier exegetes who believed fitna was related to the non-Muslim enemy and referred to their associating partners with Allah. For Riḍā, it concerns the Believers’ persecution. The meaning of the text changes substantially, mostly to address the commentator’s own context and the immediate needs of his audience. However, Riḍā has a rationale for his choice of the meaning. Although the classical scholar Ibn ᶜAbbās associates fitna with shirk,79 Riḍā disagrees and claims this to be impossible since shirk (associating partners with Allah) will never cease to exist on earth.80 In both cases, the Believers must keep fighting until the fitna—shirk to many early mufassirūn, and “persecution” to Riḍā—is over.81 In conclusion, the verse under study offers at least three critical points. First, the Qur’ān includes verses, which exhort the Believers to battle the kuffār. Some of these verses do not place restrictions on this fighting, while others call for religious freedom or allow qitāl only in self-defense. Second, the Muslim commentators disagree on the meaning of important Qur’ānic terms, such as fitna, which highlights how the text puzzles them. They offer whichever meaning suits the concerns of their day. Third, the questions addressed by medieval and modern mufassirūn vary, and the concerns of the two groups differ, which is reflected in their hermeneutical choices. Modern exegetes are primarily concerned with dogmatic matters related to their meticulous presentation of Islam in a culturally complex and religiously pluralistic era.

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Fight the People of the Book In sūrat al-Tawba (Q 9:29), the Qur’ān commands the Believers to fight a selected group of alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb (those who have received the Book). As explained in the first section of this chapter, this group refers to those who have received a holy scripture prior to Islam, presumably Christians and Jews, yet rejectedthe true faith. The verse reads, qātilū alladhīn lā yu’minūn bi-llāh (fight those who believe not in Allah), and identifies four characteristics of this group. It is a direct command to fight them until they pay the tribute out of humiliation. Muqātil ibn Sulaymān reiterates the verse, indicating that it is a command to fight those who do not believe in al-tawḥīd (the oneness of Allah), nor in the Judgment Day.82 He explains that Islam is al-dīn al-ḥaqq (the religion of truth) and all other religions are bāṭil (false or wrong).83 Al-Ṭabarī writes that the command qātilū addresses Allah’s followers, aṣḥāb rasūl Allāh (the companions of the Prophet), and calls them to fight those who do not believe in paradise and hell.84 In agreement with Muqātil, he asserts that alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb refers to Jews and Christians.85 He, nevertheless, observes that commentators disagree over the meaning of ṣāghirūn. Some believe the person paying must stand and deliver al-jizya to the seated receiver, while others are certain al-jizya must be given while walking in humiliation.86 Al-Qurṭubī states that “there was no jizya before [the revelation of] this verse.”87 This verse permitted it. He asserts that the verse commands the Muslims to fight all al-kuffār, conflating alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb with infidels.88 He suggests that when ahl al-kitāb rejected Muhammad, they violated Allah’s order and committed a great transgression. Consequently, Allah commanded al-qitāl against them, but they may pay al-jizya instead of incurring al-qatl (being killed).89 In Tafsīr al-manār, Riḍā notes that the first eight verses of this sūra explain the laws of fighting the polytheists, but beginning with this verse (Q 9:29), it turns to ḥukm qitāl ahl al-kitāb (the rule of fighting the People of the Book) and the purpose of this fighting.90 Relying on asbāb al-nuzūl, he concludes that the obligatory fighting in Islam is a law to defend the truth and its people, and to protect al-daᶜwa (the Islamic preaching) and spread it.91 However, Riḍā points out that fighting should cease once its purpose (al-jizya) is achieved.92 He observes that al-qitāl should only occur when needed.93 It is evident that he aims to present this verse (and Islam in general) in a way, which appeals to a multifaith context. In Tafsīr al-mīzān, al-Ṭabāṭabā’ī explains that the verses (Q 9:29–34) command the Muslims to fight ahl al-kitāb unless they pay the jizya, because they deviated from the correct path. Specifically, they rejected Muhammad’s prophethood, which turned them into kuffār.94 To him, the purpose of fighting is not for the Muslims to enjoy the pleasure of superiority , but rather that “dīn al-ḥaqq

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(the religion of truth) must become plainly above all the others, and that sunnat al-ᶜadl (the law of justice) and the word of piety should become superior above all falsehood, injustice, and immorality.”95 Here, he seems to follow the interpretive approach of the shīᶜī authority al-Qummī, who argues that ṣāghirūn means that ahl al-kitāb should be madhlūlīn (humiliated). Instead of becoming slaves or being murdered, he observes, they should keep paying the jizya until they convert to Islam; the goal is to humiliate them into converting.96 In concluding the examination of this verse, there are three critical observa tions. First, contrary to the opinions of most Muslim exegetes, in this verse the Qur’ān does not command fighting all the People of the Book. Rather, it commands fighting a specific group, which meets four aforementioned characteristics. The command is only against the unbelieving group ofahl al-kitāb, and the Qur’ān is not clear in its description of each characteristic. It could be argued that ahl al-kitāb have faith in Allah, especially as the verse is ambiguous concerning the kind or level of faith identified. They, as recipients of heavenly books, do actually believe in the Last Day. Moreover, the verse is unclear about what Allah specifically forbids. It does not identify the “apostle,” so one cannot be certain whether it refers to the messengers sent to the people of the Book, or to Muhammad—let alone what exactly this messenger forbade. The verse is even ambiguous regarding the way to practice the true religion. It cannot be easily interpreted to lump all the believers of previous revelations into one group. Based on this verse, if the Muslims simply fight ahl al-kitāb in general, it would clearly violate the Qur’ān. Second, the mufassirūn do not seem to effectively examine the entirety of this verse’s elements. They sometimes mention the kuffār or the mushrikūn, while the verse clearly speaks of alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb. Moreover, they are puzzled by certain words in the verse, specifically ṣāghirūn, and attempt to decipher these elements, which could be understood in many different ways. Third, the Qur’ān seems to present a case against a specific group of people, yet the mufassirūn expand this specific group to include more people. Once again, there is an obvious dissonance between the Qur’ān’s meaning and its commentators’ explanations, because their sociocultural and political paradigms affect their reading of their sacred text.

No Fighting: You Have Your Religion, and I Have Mine One of the most compelling chapters advocating religious tolerance and coexistence in the Qur’ān is sūrat al-Kāfirūn (Q 109): “I serve not what you serve and you are not serving what I serve … To you your religion, and to me my religion.” Although it labels the non-Muslims as kāfirūn, it calls for tolerance between different religious groups, as it does not call for fighting the other. Based on this sūra,

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the argument could be made for religious freedom and tolerance. However, the mufassirūn interpret this sūra in drastically different ways. Muqātil ibn Sulaymān argues that this sūra is abrogated by sūrat al-Tawba, especially the Sword Verse (Q 9:5).97 He links it with the incident of the so-called “Satanic Verses,” referring to the controversial occasion when Muhammad is reported to have allegedly used Satan’s words in sūrat al-Najm (Q 53:19, 20).98 Al-Ṭabarī, relying on the isnād and various stories from the sīra, reflects on what he believes to be the occasion of its revelation, without directly mentioning the Satanic Verses.99 For him, al-mushrikūn of Mecca suggested to Muhammad that they worship his Allah for one year, and then he would worship their gods the following year and so forth. Accordingly, Allah revealed this sūra as the answer that Muhammad should give to al-mushrikūn.100 Unlike Muqātil, al-Ṭabarī does not state whether or not this verse is abrogated. He ignores mentioning both abrogation and the incident of the Satanic Verses. Thus, Muqātil advocates its abrogation, while al-Ṭabarī relates it to a situation in the past, perhaps implying it cannot be applied in later generations. Al-Zamakhsharī writes that this sūra addresses kafara makhṣūṣūn (specific infidels).101 Like al-Ṭabarī, he makes it a specific and definite case, rather than an open call for religious tolerance and coexistence. Al-Qurṭubī, on the other hand, refers to the occasion of sūrat al-Najm, but unlike Muqātil, he does not mention the incident of the Satanic Verses, most likely to avoid any embarrassment.102 In Tafsīr al-manār by Rashīd Riḍā, this sūra is not included.103 In Tafsīr al-mīzān, al-Ṭabāṭabā’ī writes that scholars disagree regarding the place where this sūra was revealed—Mecca or Medina—although the style proves it to be Meccan. In his opinion, this sūra does not address al-kāfirūn in general, but rather a specific group among them.104 It was revealed on a specific occasion, addressing a particular situation. Therefore, its verses cannot not be taken as universal or applicable on all. Though he does not mention abrogation, he affirms that there is no reason to believe the verse la-kum dīnukum wa liyya dīn (to you your religion, and to me my religion) permits individuals to choose their religion. For him, this verse does not mean that Muhammad would never yataᶜarraḍḍ (oppose) the religion of the infidels, because the true Qur’ānic daᶜwa (preaching) would tadfaᶜ dhalik asāsan (essentially reject that).105 Thus, although al-Ṭabāṭabā’ī does not explicitly mention the abrogation of this sūra, the inevitable conclusion of his interpretation limits it to a specific time and precise occasion in the past. Consequently, this sūra cannot be used to advocate religious coexistence and the freedom of faith today. While the sūra identifies non-Muslims as infidels, it could be read as calling for tolerance, coexistence, and peacebuilding—a much-needed message, yet completely lost in the commentaries of Muslim exegetes.106

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Conclusion: The Conflict Between the Qur’ān and Its Commentators After analyzing the interpretations of the various mufassirūn and comparing them with the Qur’ānic text, it appears that the Muslim exegetes, medieval and modern, are more concerned with the needs of their day than with the text itself. In their exegesis, they provide elements intended to appeal to their audience, rather than simply explaining the text. This is one reason for the disunion evident between different generations. The social, sectarian, and political contexts of each exegete influence their hermeneutical choices. Early mufassirūn are more concerned with piety and narratives than doctrines and debates. In later generations, dogmatic disputes, sectarian debates, and apologetic discourses take priority, which produces more sophisticated analysis but requires different post-Qur’ānic exegetical devices. In modern generations, the mufassirūn live and teach in a multi-religious environment, where Muslims must respond to questions, which would not have interestedclassical mufassirūn—questions about the legitimacy of wars and using violence with non-Muslims, inquiries about the infallibility of the Prophet, and so forth. Modern exegetical arguments regarding jihad and fighting do not necessarily follow in the footsteps of classical and medieval mufassirūn. Some classical interpretations had to be rejected altogether. The meaning of crucial passages regarding confronting the non-Muslims is lost, as the exegetes elevate their context above that of the sacred text. While the Qur’ān includes verses which appear to advocate religious freedom and mutual coexistence, their meaning is distorted by the Muslim exegetes who offer limitations, add restrictions, and propose contexts, which deviate from the original meaning of the text. Their commentaries add juristic and legal qualifiers to a naturally difficult text. This most likely reflects not only the existence of competing passages in the Qur’ān, but also the fact that Muslim exegetes respond to the immediate needs of their audience. The text of the Qur’ān is complex even to these renowned mufassirūn, but attempting to interpret it by linking it to political situations or religious debates cannot provide a consistent interpretation. In matters of jihad and fighting the non-Muslims, it appears that turning to the Qur’ān itself, independent from post-Qur’ānic materials or doctrines, proves a much better approach in today’s world to enhance mutual coexistence and religious freedom.

Notes 1. Griffith, The Bible in Arabic, 24, 29, 32; idem, The Church in the Shadow of the Mosque, 6–8. See also the appendix “The People of the kitāb” in Madigan, The Qur’ân’s Self Image,

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193–213. Regarding mushrikūn, see Hawting, The Idea of Idolatry, 1, 62, 67; Crone, “The Religion of the Qur’ānic Pagans,” 151–200. Unless otherwise noted, I have used Arthur Arberry, The Koran Interpreted (1955). Compare with (Q 5:82): “Thou wilt surely find the most hostile of men to the believers are the Jews and the idolaters; and thou wilt surely find the nearest of them in love to the believers are those who say ‘We are Christians’; that, because some of them are priests and monks, and they wax not proud.” Although it seems critical of the Jews, it does affirm the great and honorable manner through which the Christian monks and priests should be treated. See a similar attitude in sūrat Āl ᶜImrān (Q 3:56, 151) and sūrat al-Nisā’ (Q 4:74). Böwering, “Chronology” in EQ, 1:316–318; Dashti, Twenty Three Years, 48–49; Goldziher, Introduction, 28–30. Lawson, Crucifixion, ch. 1. I am greatly indebted to the works of Professor Gabriel Said Reynolds in this regard, particularly his The Qur’ān and its Biblical Subtext. I use a helpful internet search engine http://www.searchtruth.com/ (accessed June 2, 2016) that offers a word search in the Qur’ān in different translations and languages. Whenever I mention a word count, I use this source. For a Muslim conservative explanation of jihad, see Qādirī, al-Jihād fī sabīl Allāh, 1:49–50, where he links jihad and qitāl for the most part; see also Haykal, al-Jihād wa-l-qitāl, 1:369–579. In disagreement with Qādirī and Haykal, see the recent scholarly study by Asma Afsaruddin, as she argues that the meaning of jihad is affected by “sociopolitical circumstances,” and that defining it “as primarily armed combat” is “relatively late and contested.” Afsaruddin, Striving in the Path of God, 5. See “jihād” in Ibn Manẓūr, Lisān al-ᶜarab, 3:135ff, which is one of the well-known dictionaries of the Arabic language. Knowing that it was written in the 7th/13th century, I argue that its understanding of a term may reflect Ibn Manẓūr’s time, not necessarily that of Muhammad. See also al-Rāzī, Mukhtār al-Ṣaḥḥāḥ, 63. For internet access, the website http://www.baheth.info/ includes five major Arabic dictionaries. See “Qitāl,” in Lisān al-ᶜarab, 11:547ff. See also Abū Bakr al-Rāzī, Mukhtār al-Ṣaḥḥāḥ, 247; al-Fīrūzābādī, al-Qāmūs al-muḥīṭ, 1046. See Watt, “Islamic Conceptions,” 145, stating, “The Arabic word commonly used for ‘holy war’ is jihād, which properly means ‘striving’ or ‘expenditure of effort.’” The exact word jihad occurs 4 times (Q 9:24; 22:78; 25:52; 60:1), while qitāl 10 times (Q 2:216, 217, 246; 3:121, 167; 4:77; 8:16, 65; 33:25; 47:20). The participle qātil occurs in 39 verses, while jāhid appears in 28 verses. It is noteworthy to mention that Yusuf Ali, Hilali-Khan, Palmer, and Sale render this word as “fought,” equating it with qitāl, which demonstrates that the translators attempt to exegete the Qur’ān, providing their own understanding of the text, rather than what the text actually says. For a traditional interpretation of qitāl in the Qur’ān, see Shaltūt, “The Qur’an and Combat,” in War and Peace, ed. Ghazi bin Muhammad, 1–27. I consult a useful website http://www.qumnbrowser.com that includes ten different English translations of the Qur’ān, classified into Orthodox Muslims, Non-Orthodox Muslims, and Non-Muslims translators (accessed June 3, 2016). In what follows, this website is the reference for the alternative English translations. A similar verse is, “But if they jāhadāk (strive with thee) to make thee associate with Me that whereof thou hast no knowledge, then do not obey them” (Q 31:15).

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13. The phrase jahd aymānihim perplexes English translators. Pickthall translates it as “most binding oaths,” Yusuf Ali “strongest oaths,” Hilali-Khan “strongest oaths,” Shakir “oaths,” Sher Ali “most solemn oaths,” Khalifa “swore by GOD solemnly,” Arberry “most earnest oaths,” Palmer “most strenuous oath,” Rodwell “most solemn oath,” and Sale “with a most firm oath.” Abdel Haleem renders it “their strongest oaths.” Abdel Haleem, The Qur’an, 73. 14. The word munāfiqūn is better rendered as “lukewarm Believers” or “uncommitted Muslims” rather than simply “hypocrites.” Donner uses it in this sense in his Early Islamic Conquests, 68; idem, Muhammad and the Believers, 43, 59, 160, 161; also Cook, Understanding Jihad, 8, 138. 15. The exact verse is found in sūrat al-Taḥrīm (Q 66:9). A similar notion is in sūrat al-Tawba (Q 9:81): “Those who were left behind rejoiced in tarrying behind the Messenger of God, and wa karihū an yujāhidū (were averse to struggle) with their possessions and their selves in the way of God. They said, ‘Go not forth in the heat.’” This verse appears to rebuke those Muslims who were glad that they stayed at home instead of going to war, as they were unwilling to strive with their possessions and their lives for Allah’s sake. The term jihad appears in these verses linked with going to battles. 16. A similar verse that encourages jihad with one’s possessions and self is, “You shall believe in God and His Messenger, wa tujāhidūn (and struggle) in the way of God with your possessions and your selves. That is better for you, did you but know” (Q 61:11). On this see Ibn al-Mubārak, Kitāb al-jihād, 1:61. 17. This is reflected, for example, in comparing sūrat al-Nisā’ (Q 4:95), which refers to ranks of believers striving in jihad, with sūrat al-Ḥadīd (Q 57:10) which refers to ranks of believers fighting in Allah’s path. 18. This verse combines three phases in the life of a Muslim: 1) the act of believing in Muhammad’s message, 2) emigrating with him, and 3) striving and struggling in Allah’s path with one’s possessions and self. 19. The literature on jihad is enormous. On the Muslim side, see Ibn al-Mubārak (d. 181/797), Kitāb al-jihād, 1:61; al-Shaybānī (d. 189/805) and al-Sarakhasī (d. 490/1097), al-Siyar, 120–174; Ibn Abī ᶜĀṣim (d. 287/900), al-Jihād, 133–140, 316, 378; Mawdūdī, al-Jihād fī sabīl Allāh, 2–5; al-Qādirī, al-Jihād fī sabīl Allāh, 1:609–618; Haykal, al-Jihād wa-l-qitāl, 1:369–579. On the non-Muslim side, see Johnson, The Holy War; Peters, Jihad in Classical and Modern Islam; Ella Landau-Tasseron, “Jihād,” in EQ, 3:35ff; Cook, Understanding Jihad, 5–8; Elass, “Four Jihads,” 35ff; Firestone, Jihad, 17ff; Bonner, “Early Development of Jihad,” 5–31; idem, Jihad in Islamic History, 1–18; Reynolds, Emergence, 69. See also the recent study of Afsaruddin, Striving in the Path of God. 20. Speaking of four kinds of jihad, Mateen Elass points out that jihad “always involves a fight against evil, but this can take many forms: jihad of the heart, of the mouth and pen, of the hand, and of the sword.” However, he affirms, “the sword is central to Islam’s texts, its history, and its founder.” See Elass, “Four Jihads,” 35. Firestone writes, “There are, therefore, many kinds of jihād, and most have nothing to do with warfare.” Firestone, Jihad, 17. Ella Landau-Tasseron states, “First, jihād is a concept much broader than warfare. Secondly, the doctrine of warfare can be derived from the Qur’ān without resorting to the term jihād at all.” See Landau-Tasseron, “Jihād,” in EQ, 3:35ff.

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21. See “kufr,” in Ibn Manẓūr, Lisān al-ᶜarab, 5:144. See also al-Rāzī, Mukhtār al-Ṣaḥḥāḥ, 271; al-Fīrūzābādī, al-Qāmūs al-muḥīṭ, 470. The explanation of kufr in Lisān al-ᶜarab, al-Ṣaḥḥāḥ, and al-Muḥīṭ appears almost identical. 22. The same notion is also in other verses. See, for instance, sūrat al-Mā’ida (Q 5:68). 23. The verses (Q 2:40, 47) address clearly Banī Isrā’īl (Sons of Israel). 24. Yusuf Ali renders it in an interesting way: “And if any believe not in God and His Apostle, We have prepared, for those who reject God, a Blazing Fire!” He adds the phrase “for those who reject God,” which is not found in the text. This seems to be an interpretive phrase aimed at avoiding any possible suggestion that those who do not believe in Muhammad are kuffār. 25. On this, Izutsu asserts that “There is, to be sure, no denying that the semantic category of the Arabic word kāfir itself contains an important element of ‘belief’. But, it must be remembered, this is not the only basic semantic constituent of the word, nor is it the original one.” See Izutsu, Concepts, 26. 26. When I argue that kāfir could have more than one meaning, “there can be no question that there is recognizably some sort of semantic equivalence in each case.” Izutsu, Concepts in the Qur’an, 24. 27. The same notion is also found in sūrat Āl ᶜImrān (Q 3:75, 113), where it points out that some of ahl al-kitāb are honest and faithful, while others are not. The point is that within ahl al-kitāb there is a group of people who do not seem serious about their faith. They believe the truth in the morning and reject it at night (Q 3:72). 28. I deliberately use the word “revelation” rather than “book.” Although ahl al-kitāb are commonly known as the People of the “Book,” it is better to avoid thinking about “book” as a written document, bound manuscript, or complied work of many pages. Madigan, convincingly, argues that though the Qur’ān calls itself kitāb, meaning “a writing,” it perceives itself as “something remains unwritten” (45). He affirms that Muhammad did not yield to his opponents’ demand for a “once-and-for-all” book; instead he insisted on an “open-ended,” “progressively unfolding” set of revelations. See Madigan, The Qur’ân’s Self Image, 45, 54. 29. I am aware of the argument that includes the Sabaeans among ahl al-kitāb alongside Christians and Jews. However, that does not appear in the Qur’ān. The Sabaeans are mentioned three times in the Qur’ān (Q 2:62; 5:69; 22:17). None of these verses mentions ahl al-kitāb. 30. On the importance of tracing synonyms and contrasts, see Izutsu, Concepts, 37–38. 31. For instance, Yusuf Ali usually renders alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb and ahl al-kitāb the same: the People of the book. Compare his translation of sūrat al-Mā’ida (Q 5:19) with the one of sūrat al-Baqara (Q 2:144). The term alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb in (Q 2:144) is rendered “Those who have received the Scripture” by Pickthall, “the people who were given the Scriptures” by Hilali-Khan, “those who have been given the Book” by Shakir and Arberry, “they to whom the Book has been given” by Sher Ali, and “those who received the previous scripture” by Khalifa. Abdel Haleem uses “those who were given the Scripture.” Abdel Haleem’s translation, The Qur’ān, 17. 32. The same notion is also used with ahl al-kitāb in (Q 2:109) and (Q 3:69), which may support the overlap of the two terms in some sense, but to consider them synonymous is a different matter that requires scrutiny. 33. This notion similarly appears with ahl al-kitāb in sūrat al-Mā’ida (Q 5:19).

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3 4. See al-Mā’ida (Q 5:15), which indicates the same notion with reference to ahl al-kitāb. 35. Instead of translating it “the people of the Sabbath,” surprisingly many translators render it “Sabbath breakers.” Pickthall, Yusuf Ali, and Rodwell use “Sabbath-breakers,” Hilali-Khan “Sabbathbreakers,” Shakir “the violators of the Sabbath,” and Sale “transgressed on the sabbath day.” By contrasting (Q2:65) and (Q5:60), in an enigmatic assertion, Allah is wrathful against those Sabbath breakers and turned some of them into apes and swine. 36. The word ṭāghūt perplexes translators and commentators, although it is relatively clear as the Qur’ān identifies the devil as al-ṭāghūt in (Q 4:76). At least it would be safe to argue that the word “devil” or “Satan” is part of the semanticrange of al-ṭāghūt. Pickthall renders it “idols,” Yusuf Ali “Evil,” Hilali-Khan “Taghut (Satan, etc.),” Shakir “Shaitan,” Sher Ali “Evil One,” Khalifa “tyranny,” Arberry “idols,” Palmer “Taghut,” Rodwell “Thagout,” and Sale “Taghut.” This suggests that translators struggle with the ambiguous text, and their word choices often reflect their interpretive disagreements with each other. 37. Yusuf Ali and Hilali-Khan support this in their translation of the verse. 38. See “subul,” in Ibn Manẓūr, Lisān al-ᶜarab, 11:319. 39. See “subul,” in al-Qāmūs al-muḥīṭ, 1012. 40. Izutsu, Ethico-Religious Concepts in the Qur’an, 37–38. 41. The term al-ṭāghūt refers to the devil in (Q 4:76). 42. Muqātil’s tafsīr is one of the earliestcommentaries, though it is extant only in the recension of later authorities. See Reynolds, Subtext, 27–28, and 200–229. See Plessner, “Mukatil b. Sulaiman,” in EI2, 3:711ff. 43. See Reynolds, Subtext, 222–224, and to a lesser extent Lawson, The Crucifixion, ch. 2. 44. See Lane, A Traditional Muᶜtazilite, 1–8 (on the commentary), (9–46); also Reynolds, Subtext, 224–225. 45. On al-Qurṭubī, see Ṣafadī, al-Wāfī bi-l-wafayāt, 2:87; Sala, “al-Imām al-Qurṭubī,” in Christian-Muslim Relations, ed. Thomas et al, 4:391–394; Ziriklī, Aᶜlām, 5:322–323. On the qirā’āt, see the brilliant study by Nasser, The Transmission of the Variant Readings. On Asbāb al-nuzūl, see Rippin, “The Qur’ānic Asbāb al-Nuzūl Material,” and idem, “Literary Analysis” in Approaches, ed. Martin, 151–163. 46. On Riḍā, see the valuable study of Sirry, Scriptural Polemics, 16, 26ff, and especially 71ff concerning Riḍā’s views and his departure from classical trends among commentators. On the differences between Muhammad ᶜAbduh and Rashīd Riḍā, see Iftitah Jafar, “Modern Qur’ānic Exegesis.” On Riḍā’s reactions to non-Muslim accusations, particularly those of Christian missionaries, see Wood, Christian Criticisms, Islamic Proofs, especially ch. 2. 47. Muqātil 1:101. See also Thawrī, Tafsīr, 71. A valuable online resource is www.altafsir.com, which provides different commentaries and translations of the Qur’ān (accessed June 7, 2016). 48. Ṭabarī, Tafsīr, 3:560–561. See also al-Zajjāj, Maᶜānī al-Qur’ān, 1:338. On al-nāsikh wa-l-mansūkh (abrogation), see al-Suyūṭī, al-Itqān, 1:35, 121, 162, and an earlier ṣūfī perspective by al-Muḥāsibī (d. 243/857), Fahm al-Qur’ān, 394ff. For a shīᶜī perspective see al-Qummī, Tafsīr, 1:161, where he agrees with his contemporary al-Ṭabarī on the abrogation. Al-Qummī insists that Muslims cannot kill Muslims unless unintentionally (1:147). 49. Abū al-Qāsim al-Zamakhsharī, al-Kashshāf, 1:235 (hereafter Zamakhsharī 1:235). For a ṣūfī perspective on lā taᶜtadū, see Qushayrī, Laṭā’if al-ishārāt, 1:159–160, where the verse

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57. 58.

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is not abrogated. On al-Qushayrī, see al-Dhahabī, Siyar aᶜlām al-nubalā’, 18:227ff, and the study of Nguyen, Sufi Master and Quran Scholar, ch. 1. Thaᶜlabī, al-Kashf wa-l-bayān, 2:86. For more on al-Thaᶜlabī, see Saleh, The Formation of the Classical Tafsīr Tradition, 25–66, and on his hermeneutical approach pp. 77–100. Qurṭubī 2:347–350. Bayḍāwī, Anwār al-tanzīl, 1:127. Riḍā 2:207. On Riḍā’s methods and his extensive use of earlier mufassirūn, see Jafar, “Modern Qur’ānic Exegesis.” See Ṭabāṭabā’ī, al-Mīzān fī tafsīr al-Qur’ān, 2:60ff. For him, the passage (Q 2:190–194) is one unit that has one purpose; thus, verse 191 does not abrogate 190, but rather they complement each other. Karen Bauer rightly states, “At its essence, tafsīr is each scholar ’s attempt to relate his world to the world of the Qur’ān; it is his attempt to relate his intellectual, political and social contexts to the Qur’ān’s text. It is a process of meaning-creation, because what the scholars read into the text is not always explicitly there.” Bauer, “Introduction,” in Aims, Methods and Contexts of Qur’ānic Exegesis, ed. idem, 8. See also Sirry, Scriptural, ch. 1. Muqātil 1:137. He reads the Qur’ānic verses chronologically (historically), believing that this verse was revealed only after the conversion of the Arab tribes to Islam. He does not mention the abrogation of this verse. He reflects on the sīra, and affirms that Muhammad did not accept al-jizya except from the People of the Book, but when the Arabs converted to Islam ṭawᶜan wa karhan (voluntarily and involuntarily), he accepted al-kharāj as a tax only min ghayr ahl al-kitāb (from those who were not from the People of the Book). See Muqātil 1:137. He points out that it was revealed regarding some people from al-anṣār (Muslim supporters of the Prophet) who had Jewish or Christian children and wanted to force them to convert to Islam, but Allah revealed lā ikrāh fī al-dīn to forbid them from forcing any conversion. Ṭabarī 5:407–408. Ṭabarī 5:414–415. See also al-Qummī, Tafsīr, 1:84, who was a younger contemporary of al-Ṭabarī. Zamakhsharī 1:303. He relies on “reasoning” and “what makes sense.” See Reynolds, Subtext, 224. He still observes that some other exegetes affirm that this verse is not abrogated, as it is only related to the People of the Book, who are free to choose their religion because they pay al-jizya. See both assertions in Zamakhsharī 1:304. Similarly, see Thaᶜlabī, al-Kashf wa-l-bayān, 2:234. Qurṭubī 3:279–281, especially 279. In more than 6 pages, he relies on asbāb al-nuzūl, providing three different stories. Each one may provide a different interpretation for this verse. Similarly see Bayḍāwī, Anwār, 1:154. Qurṭubī 3:280–281. One of the interesting explanations he offers is that this verse is related to the Jews, but he goes on to say that it may also be related to Christians. One may ask why it is not related to both. It appears that the mufassirūn do not necessarily have answers to the various challenging questions regarding the Qur’ānic text. Their interpretative attempts are as good as those of the modern scholars.

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6 5. Riḍā compares Islam and Christianity in an interesting way in Tafsīr al-manār, 3:37. 66. See Riḍā 3:36–37. Surprisingly, Riḍā does not discuss the notion mentioned by other exegetes regarding the abrogation of this verse. 67. Riḍā 3:36–37. Regarding this argument, see Sizgorich, “‘Do Prophets Come with a Sword?,” 939–940. 68. See Ṭabāṭabā’ī, al-Mīzān fī tafsīr al-Qur’ān, 2:346ff. 69. See al-Qummī, Tafsīr, 1:84. He states, lā yukrah aḥad ᶜalā dīnih illā baᶜd an qad tabayyan lah al-rushd min al-ghayy (there is no compulsion for anyone in his religion until after clarifying to him truth from error). For another shīᶜī perspective, see al-Thumālī, Tafsīr, 119. 70. See Sirry, Scriptural Polemics, 9ff, where he views tafsīr “as reflecting social, cultural, and political contexts in which it emerges.” See also Bauer, “Introduction,” in Qur’ānic Exegesis, ed. Idem, 8, where she rightly observes, “At its essence, tafsīr is each scholar’s attempt to relate his world to the world of the Qur’ān.” 71. Muqātil 2:17. See also Thaᶜlabī, al-Kashf wa-l-bayān, 4:356, where he asserts that fitna is shirk; see also 9:30 where he comments on yakūn al-dīn kulluh li-llāh in sūrat Muḥammad, and writes that jihad and qitāl will not be needed after the return of Jesus, which suggests that the door is open for the continuation of fighting until then. 72. Ṭabarī 13:537–538. 73. Ibid., 13:538–539. He still observes that some other commentators say that fitna means balā’ which refers to curse, ordeal, or even plague. The word fitna puzzles the English translators. They vary in how they render it. Yusuf Ali uses “tumult or oppression,” Shakir and Sher Ali “persecution,” Khalifa “oppression,” Palmer “sedition,” Rodwell “strife.” Abdel Haleem renders it “persecution”; see his translation, The Qur’an, 112. Thus, while most mufassirūn render it shirk, translators vary in their word choice. This demonstrates that, for the most part, they try to make sense of the text but do not seem to know what it means. 74. Reynolds, Subtext, 205. 75. Ṭabarī 13:543. Thaᶜlabī, al-Kashf wa-l-bayān, 4:356, where he states that “if they give over” means if they cease both fighting and kufr. See Bayḍāwī, Anwār al-tanzīl, 3:59. 76. Zamakhsharī 1:235, 236. Similar meaning is offered by al-Zajjāj, Maᶜānī al-Qur’ān, 2:413, and also 1:264, where he observes that this is a command by Allah for fighting every “infidel,” as fitna refers to kufr. See also Qushayrī, Laṭā’if al-ishārāt, 1:624–625, where fitna is shirk that should be fought, as it affects the peaceful life of the Believers. 77. Ṭabāṭabā’ī, al-Mīzān fī tafsīr al-Qur’ān, 9:76ff. See also the classical shīᶜī al-Qummī, Tafsīr, 1:278, where he interprets fitna as kufr (infidelity) and affirms that this verse abrogates the tolerant verse of (Q 4:77): Kuffū aydiyakum (keep your hands off [from fighting]). For a classical shīᶜī perspective, see al-Thumālī, Tafsīr, 114. 78. Riḍā 9:664–665. He reflects on the so-called “historical” incident found in the sīra when the Quraysh forced the Prophet and his followers to emigrate to Medina. When the Muslims did, the Quraysh attempted to attack them in dār al-hijra (Medina). 79. Accordingly, the meaning of this verse would be, fight them until there is no shirk and until all other false religions vanish and the only remaining one is Islam. Ibid., 9: 666. Riḍā, moreover, writes that some commentators believe that this verse is not applicable in their

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day; it will be fulfilled when al-Mahdī appears, because only at that time will there be no mushrik on earth. Ibid., 9:666. Riḍā 9:664–665. He offers an example of this verse in today’s meaning: The religion is free; people are free to choose their faith; no one should be forced to abandon his religion by means of force or persecution (c.f. Q 2:256). This shows how his approach differs significantly from various classical commentators. Muqātil 2:43. Ibid., 2:43. He explains that alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb means Jews and Christians, and points out that the phrase ḥattā yuᶜṭū al-jizya ᶜan yad indicates that they pay it ᶜan anfusihim (for themselves), and the phrase wa hum ṣāghirūn means while they are utterly humiliated, whether they pay it voluntarily or not. Ṭabarī 14:198. Unlike Muqātil, al-Ṭabarī does not mention al-tawḥīd or the Resurrection Day. Ibid., 14:198. In a very interesting turn, he links al-jizya and al-kharāj, emphasizing that ḥattā yuᶜṭū al-jizya ᶜan yad refers to the non-Muslims giving al-kharāj to the Muslim rulers in compensation for defending them. The two words appear to have the same meaning here for al-Ṭabarī. Ibid., 14:200. The phrase ᶜan yad wa hum ṣāghirūn puzzles not only the medieval mufassirūn, but also modern Muslim translators. Yusuf Ali renders it “with willing submission, and feel themselves subdued,” Shakir “in acknowledgment of superiority and they are in a state of subjection,” Sher Ali “considering it a favour and acknowledge their subjection,” Khalifa “willingly or unwillingly,” Palmer “by their hands and be as little ones,” and Rodwell “out of hand, and they be humbled.” Abdel Haleem renders it “and agree to submit”; see his translation, The Qur’an, 118. Qurṭubī 8:109. Ibid., 8:109. In this reference, he seems to use al-kuffār and al-mushrikūn synonymously; however, he identifies ahl al-kitāb as a special case. It should be noted that the text does not speak of al-kuffār and al-mushrikūn. It does speak of alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb. This shows the manner in which the mufassirūn switch between terms and phrases as they please, as long as it serves their understanding of the text. Qurṭubī 8:109–110. See the ṣūfī perspective of Qushayrī, Laṭā’if al-ishārāt, 2:20, where he does not identify explicitly alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb, and makes “oneself” the “enemy” that should be fought. Riḍā 10:174, and 331–332. Ibid., 10:332–333. Here he deviates from earlier trends among mufassirūn. To prove his point, he writes that all Muhammad’s maghāzī (raids) were for self-defense, and the same applies to the early Muslim conquests of al-ṣaḥāba, but afterwards, as Riḍā proceeds, al-qitāl became a necessity for al-mulk (the kingdom). He still insists that in all these raids and conquests Islam was an example of mercy and justice. Riḍā 10:332–333. Riḍā 10:341–342. Ibid., 10:341–342. Riḍā asserts that “initiating war and fighting” is unacceptable in Islam (10:342). He writes that once ahl al-kitāb pay the jizya, the war must stop. They should be secured and protected (as dhimmīs) and should receive the freedom to worship according

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to their faith and based on the jizya treaty. He then explains the matter of al-jizya and the dhimmīs in more detail in a separate section. See Ibid., 10:342ff. 94. Ṭabāṭabā’ī, al-Mīzān, 9:243ff, especially 9:246. For him, the term “People of the Book” refers to the Jews and the Christians, in addition to the Magi, based on the indication in sūrat al-Ḥajj (Q 22:17). 95. Ibid. Thus, al-Ṭabāṭabā’ī observes that al-jizya (tribute) is a financial “gift” taken from non-Muslims, spent and disbursed in protecting them and managing their affairs. He concludes that this verse encourages the Muslims to fight (and continue fighting) them, humiliating them so that they submit to the Muslim rulers, agreeing to give the financial “gift” in compensation for sparing their lives and the need for managing their affairs. 96. Qummī, Tafsīr, 1:288. 97. Muqātil 3:529. He writes that this sūra was revealed in Mecca, addressing the scoffers of the Quraysh. 98. Ibid., 3:529. Muqātil mentions that Satan tricked Muhammad. He does not mind placing Muhammad in a bad light, or showing him as an imperfect person. On this, see Reynolds, Subtext, 204–205. 99. Ṭabarī 24:661. Here we can see the development of interpretations over time. Unlike Muqātil, al-Ṭabarī attempts to honor Muhammad promoting the infallibility of the Prophet. On this see Reynolds, Subtext, 204. 100. Ṭabarī 24:662. In a puzzling comment, he observes that la-kum dīnukum wa liyya dīn is said of al-mushrikūn according to some exegetes, but others suggest it is for the Jews, as they believe in the same God but yakfurūn (do not believe) of some of the prophets. See Ibid., 24:662. Similar interpretation is offered by his counterpart the shīᶜī al-Qummī, Tafsīr, 2:445. See also Thaᶜlabī, al-Kashf wa-l-bayān, 2:6, where he states the sūra is abrogated after the revelation of the Sword Verse. See also the early ṣūfī interpretation by Tustarī, Tafsīr, 207, where he states that the kāfirūn offered Muhammad to worship his Allah for one year, in return for him worshipping their gods for one month. On Tustarī, see Sands, Ṣūfī Commentaries on the Qur’ān in Classical Islam, 68. For another ṣūfī perspective, see Qushayrī, Laṭā’if al-ishārāt, 3:777, where he does not mention abrogation. 101. Zamakhsharī 4:808. Unlike Muqātil, and like al-Ṭabarī, al-Zamakhsharī does not mention whether this sūra is abrogated. It appears that later commentators do not see the need to mention the abrogation of this sūra, especially as it will require wrestling with the occasion of the Satanic Verses. 102. Qurṭubī 20:224–227. He mentions the three gods of al-mushrikūn and never refers to the possibility of abrogating this sūra, in disagreement with, for example, Muqātil. Compare al-Qurṭubī, 20:224–227 and Muqātil, 3:529. See also Bayḍāwī, Anwār, 5:343, who pro vides the occasion of revelation, and does not support its abrogation. 103. He died before he finished the tafsīr. The last volume of his tafsīr, vol. 12, ends with sūrat Yūsuf. 104. In this, al-Ṭabāṭabā’ī agrees with al-Zamakhsharī 4:808. 105. Ṭabāṭabā’ī, al-Mīzān, 20:432ff. 106. The amount of literature on peacebuilding and tolerance in Islam is enormous, and undoubtedly growing. See Peters, Jihad, where he demonstrates that modern jurists, seeking to establish a case for peacebuilding between Muslim states and all other nations, ar gue for the resort to war fī sabīl Allāh only in response to aggression: war should never be waged

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“for territorial expansion, for booty, for vengeance and for other worldly aims.” (120). See also Afsaruddin, Striving in the Path of God, and her recent work Contemporary Issues in Islam, chapters 2 and 3, where she makes a wider case for peacebuilding, democracy, and human rights from her own reading of the Qur’ān and the ḥadīth. See also Abu-Nimer, Nonviolence and Peace Building in Islam; An-Na’im, Islam and the Secular State; Sachedina, Islam and the Challenge of Human Rights.

Works Cited Primary Islamic Sources Bayḍāwī, ᶜAbdullāh al-. Anwār al-tanzīl. 5 Vols. Edited by Muḥammad ᶜAbd al-Raḥmān. Beirut: Dār iḥyā’ al-turāth al-ᶜarabī, 1418/1998. Dhahabī, Shams al-Dīn al-. Siyar aᶜlām al-nubalā’. 25 Vols. Edited by Shuᶜayb al-Arnā’ūṬ et al. Beirut: Mu’assasat al-risāla, 1405/1985. Fīrūzābādī, Majd al-Dīn al-. al-Qāmūs al-Muḥīṭ. Edited by Muḥammad Nuᶜaym. Beirut: Mu’assasat al-risāla, 1426/2005. Ibn Abī ᶜĀṣim. al-Jihād. Edited by Musāᶜid ibn Sulaymān. Damascus: Dār al-qalam, 1409/1989. Ibn Manẓūr, Jamāl al-Dīn Muḥammad. Lisān al-ᶜarab. 15 Vols. Beirut: Dār ṣādir, 1955–1956. Ibn al-Mubārak, ᶜAbdullāh. Kitāb al-jihād. 2 Vols. Edited by Nazīh Ḥammād. Jeddah: Dār al-maṬbūᶜāt al-ḥadītha, n.d. Muḥāsibī, Abū ᶜAbdallāh al-Ḥārith al-. Fahm al-Qur’ān wa maᶜānīh. Edited by Ḥusayn al-Quwwatlī. Beirut: Dār al-fikr, 1398/1971. Muqātil ibn Sulaymān. Tafsīr Muqātil. 3 Vols. Edited by Aḥmad Farīd. Beirut: Dār al-kutub al-ᶜilmiyya, 1424/2003. Qummī, ᶜAlī ibn Ibrāhīm al-. Tafsīr al-Qummī. 2 Vols. Edited by al-Sayyid al-Mūsawī al-Jazā’irī. Qum: Mu’assasat dār al-kitāb, 1387/1967. Qurṭubī, Abū ᶜAbdullāh al-Anṣārī al-. al-Jāmiᶜ li-aḥkām al-Qur’ān. 20 Vols. Edited by Hishām Samīr al-Bukhārī. Riyadh: Dār ᶜālam al-kutub, 2003. Qushayrī, Abū al-Qāsim al-. Laṭā’if al-ishārāt. 3 Vols. Edited by Ibrāhīm al-Basyūnī. Cairo: al-Hay’a al-miṣriyya, n.d. Rāzī, Abū Bakr al-. Mukhtār al-Ṣaḥḥāḥ. Edited by Yūsuf Muḥammad. Beirut: al-Maktaba al-ᶜaṣriyya, 1420/1999. Ṣafadī, Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn al-. al-Wāfī bi-l-wafayāt. 29 Vols. Edited by Aḥmad al-Arnā’ūṬ and Turkī Muṣṭafā. Beirut: Dār iḥyā’ al-turāth, 1420/2000. Shaybānī, Muḥammad al-, and Muḥammad ibn Abī Sahl al-Sarakhasī. al-Siyar al-kabīr. Edited by Muṣṭafā Zayd. Cairo: MaṬbaᶜat jāmiᶜat al-Qāhira, 1958. Suyūṭī, Jalāl al-Dīn al-. al-Itqān fī ᶜulūm al-Qur’ān. Edited by Saᶜīd al-Mandūb. 2 Vols. Beirut: Dār al-fikr, 1416/1996. Ṭabarī, Abū Jaᶜfar Muḥammad ibn Jarīr al-. Jāmiᶜ al-bayān fī ta’wīl al-Qur’ān. 24 Vols. Edited by Aḥmad Muḥammad Shākir. Beirut: Mu’assasat al-risāla, 1420/2000.

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Thaᶜlabī, Ibn Ibrāhīm al-. al-Kashf wa-l-bayān. 10 Vols. Edited by Abū Muḥammad ibn ᶜĀshūr and Naẓīr al-Sāᶜidī. Beirut: Dār iḥyā’ al-turāth al-ᶜarabī, 1422/2002. Thawrī, Abū ᶜAbdullāh Sufyān al-. Tafsīr al-Thawrī. Beirut: Dār al-kutub al-ᶜilmiyya, 1403/1983. Thumālī, Abū Ḥamza al-. Tafsīr. Edited by ᶜAbd al-Razzāq Ḥirz al-Dīn. Beirut: Dār al-mufīd, 1420/2000. Tustarī, Sahl al-Ṣufī al-. Tafsīr al-Tustarī. Edited by Muḥammad Bāsil. Beirut: Dār al-kutub al-ᶜilmiyya, 1423/2002. Zajjāj, Abū Isḥāq al-. Maᶜānī al-Qur’ān. 5 Vols. Edited by ᶜAbd al-Jalīl Shalabī. Beirut: ᶜĀlam al-kitāb, 1408/1988. Zamakhsharī, Abū al-Qāsim al-. al-Kashshāf. 4 Vols. Beirut: Dār al-kitāb al-ᶜarabī, 1407/1986.

Arabic Secondary Studies Haykal, Muḥammad Khayr. al-Jihād wa-l-qitāl fī al-siyāsa al-sharᶜiyya. 3 Vols. Beirut: Dār al-bayāriq, 1993. Mawdūdī, Sayyid Abū al-Aᶜlā. al-Jihād fī sabīl Allāh. Beirut: The Holy Koran Publishing House, 1980. Qādirī, ᶜAbdallāh ibn Aḥmad al-. al-Jihād fī sabīl Allāh: Ḥaqīqatuh wa ghāyatuh. 2 Vols. Jeddah: Dār al-manāra, 1413/1992. Riḍā, Muḥammad Rashīd. Tafsīr al-manār. 2nd ed. 12 Vols. Cairo: Dār al-manār, 1366/1947. Ṭabāṭabā’ī, Muḥammad Ḥusayn al-. al-Mīzān fī tafsīr al-Qur’ān. 22 Vols. Edited by Ḥusayn al-Aᶜlamī. Beirut: Mu’assasat al-Aᶜlamī, 1997. Ziriklī, Khayr al-Dīn al-. al-Aᶜlām. 8 Vols. Beirut: Dār al-ᶜilm li-l-malāyīn, 2002. Reprint.

Secondary Studies: Muslim and Non-Muslim Abdel Haleem, M. A. The Qur’an: A New Translation. Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press, 2010. Abu-Nimer, Mohammed. Nonviolence and Peace Building in Islam: Theory and Practice. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2003. Afsaruddin, Asma. Contemporary Issues in Islam. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2015. ———. Striving in the Path of God: Jihad and Martyrdom in Islamic Thought. New York: Oxford University Press, 2013. Arberry, Arthur J. The Koran Interpreted. London: George Allen & Unwin, 1955. Bauer, Karen, ed. Aims, Methods and Contexts of Qur’ānic Exegesis (2nd/8th-9th/15th Centuries) Qur’ānic Studies Series, 9. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013. Bonner, Michael David. Jihad in Islamic History: Doctrines and Practice. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2006. ———. “Some Observations Concerning the Early Development of Jihad on the Arab-Byzantine Frontier.” Studia Islamica, no. 75 (1992): 5–31. Cook, David. Understanding Jihad. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005.

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Crone, Patricia. “The Religion of the Qur’ānic Pagans: God and the Lesser Deities.” Arabica 57, no. 2/3 (2010): 151–200. Dashti, Ali. Twenty Three Years: A Study of the Prophetic Career of Mohammad. Costa Mesa, Calif.: Mazda, 1985. Donner, Fred McGraw. Muhammad and the Believers: At the Origins of Islam. Cambridge: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2010. ———. The Early Islamic Conquests. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981. Elass, Mateen A. “Four Jihads: Jihad Means More than Warfare, but the Sword is Central to Islam’s Texts, Its History, and Its Founder.” Christian History 21, no. 2 (2002): 35–38. Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd edition. Edited by H. A. R. Gibb et al. 8 Vols and supplement to date. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1960–. Firestone, Reuven. Jihad: The Origin of Holy War in Islam. New York: Oxford Univ. Press, 1999. Goldziher, Ignaz. Introduction to Islamic Theology and Law. Translated by Andras and Ruth Hamori. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981. Griffith, Sidney Harrison. The Bible in Arabic: The Scriptures of the “People of the Book” in the Language of Islam. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2013. ———. The Church in the Shadow of the Mosque: Christians and Muslims in the World of Islam. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2008. Hawting, G. R. The Idea of Idolatry and the Emergence of Islam: From Polemic to History. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1999. Izutsu, Toshihiko. Ethico-Religious Concepts in the Qur’an. Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2007. Reprint. Jafar, Iftitah. “Modern Qur’ānic Exegesis: A Comparative Study of the Methods of Muḥammad ᶜAbduh and Muḥammad Rashīd Ridā.” M.A., McGill University (Canada), 1998. Johnson, James Turner. The Holy War Idea in Western and Islamic Traditions. Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania University Press, 2002. Lane, Andrew J. A Traditional Muᶜtazilite Qur’ān Commentary: The Kashshāf of Jār Allāh Al-Zamakhsharī (D. 538/1144). Leiden: Brill, 2006. Lawson, Todd. The Crucifixion and the Qur’ān: A Study in the History of Muslim Thought. Oxford: Oneworld, 2009. Madigan, Daniel A. The Qur’ân’s Self Image: Writing and Authority in Islam’s Scripture. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2001. Martin, Richard C., ed. Approaches to Islam in Religious Studies. Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1985. McAuliffe, Jane Dammen, ed. Encyclopaedia of the Qur’ān. 6 Vols. Leiden: Brill, 2001–2006. Muhammad, Ghazi bin, Ibrahim Kalin, and Mohammad Hashim Kamali, eds. War and Peace in Islam: The Uses and Abuses of Jihad. Cambridge, England: The Islamic Texts Society, 2013. Na’im, Abdullahi Ahmed an-. Islam and the Secular State: Negotiating the Future of Shariᶜa. Harvard: Harvard University Press, 2009. Nasser, Shady Hekmat. The Transmission of the Variant Readings of the Qur’ān: The Problem of Tawātur and the Emergence of Shawādhdh. Leiden: Brill, 2013.

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Nguyen, Martin. Sufi Master and Quran Scholar: Abū’l-Qāsim al-Qushayrī and the LaṬāif al-Ishārāt. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012. Peters, Rudolph. Jihad in Classical and Modern Islam: A Reader. Princeton: Markus Wiener, 1996. Reynolds, Gabriel Said. The Emergence of Islam: Classical Traditions in Contemporary Perspective. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2012. ———. The Qur’ān and Its Biblical Subtext. London; New York: Routledge, 2010. Rippin, Andrew. “The Qur’ānic Asbāb Al-Nuzūl Material: An Analysis of Its Use and Development in Exegesis.” Ph.D., McGill University (Canada), 1981. Sachedina, Abdulaziz Abdulhussein. Islam and the Challenge of Human Rights. New York: Oxford University Press, 2009. Saleh, Walid A. The Formation of the Classical Tafsīr Tradition: The Qur’ān Commentary of al-Thaᶜlabī (d. 427/1035). Leiden: Brill, 2004. Sands, Kristin Zahra. Ṣūfī Commentaries on the Qur’ān in Classical Islam. London; New York: Routledge, 2006. Sirry, Mun’im A. Scriptural Polemics: The Qur’ān and Other Religions. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014. Sizgorich, Thomas. “‘Do Prophets Come with a Sword?’ Conquest, Empire, and Historical Narrative in the Early Islamic World.” American Historical Review 112, no. 4 (2007): 993–1015. Thomas, David et al, eds. Christian-Muslim Relations: A Bibliographical History. 5 Vols. Leiden: Brill, 2009–2013. Watt, W. Montgomery. “Islamic Conceptions of the Holy War.” In The Holy War. Edited by T. P. Murphy, 141–156. Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1974. Wood, Simon A. Christian Criticisms, Islamic Proofs: Rashīd Riḍā’s Modernist Defense of Islam. Richmond: Oneworld, 2009.

Online Resources Search Engine (Ḥadīth and the Qur’ān) http://www.searchtruth.com/ Ten different English translations of the Qur’ān http://www.qumnbrowser.com Arabic Dictionaries including Lisān al-ᶜArab http://www.baheth.info/index.jsp A valuable selection of various Muslim tafāsīr http://www.altafsir.com/ The Shiite Tafsīr al-mīzān www.shiasource.com/al-mizan/ and http://www.holyquran.net/

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Conclusion

The initial question now returns: During the period under examination, was Islam spread by the sword? I believe all evidence points to the negative. In that early period, Islam unified scattered tribal Bedouins under one banner. Becoming a “Muslim” probably meant declaring loyalty and adherence to ruling elites, mostly Meccan aristocrats. The Arab Empire, however, did expand by the sword as with any other military expansion. It is essential to distinguish between the expansion of an empire and the conversion of conquered peoples to the faith of the conquerors. In this case, the confusion between expansion and conversion stems from many Muslims who adopt a traditional interpretation of the motives behind the early raids and conquests. These traditionalists insist that the military operations aimed to liberate the conquered people from the darkness of polytheism and paganism. I call this a traditional interpretative approach to Muhammad’s maghāzī and the early futūḥ. This study tested this traditional Muslim interpretation against the background of the earliest sources: maghāzī, sīra, shamā’il, futūḥ, ṭabaqāt, ta’rīkh, and others, including, of course, Islam’s scripture, the Qur’ān. This study focused on the first two decades of the Islamic umma. Medieval Muslim authors narrated the events of this period, including the raids and conquests, and aimed to emphasize the work of Allah to inspire and support his prophet Muhammad, and his successors. Centuries after the events, these authors sought to represent what took place from the winner’s perspective. They created a memory of the faithful for the faithful. Even though they depicted a religious

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picture colored by supernatural miracles, divine interventions, and pious leaders, their portrayal does not align with the traditional claim adopted by later Muslims. While this traditional claim may appeal to religious apologists and enthusiasts, it lacks support from Muslim sources. This traditional interpretive hypothesis as to what motivate d the raids and conquests is not the only thoughtful Muslim option. To those traditionalists, religion is viewed in pure and absolute terms, apart from social, cultural, sectarian, and even political contexts. They insist the Arab military leaders were solely motivated by devotion to Allah and unconcerned with worldly pleasures. To traditionalists, any nonreligious element added to the religious motive would distort the exceptional picture. However, this altruistic view is unconvincing and, frankly, unrealistic, in addition to being unsupported by textual evidence. A religion in Arabia, Islam or otherwise, cannot be separated from its sociopolitical context and tribal-cultural continuity. The traditional interpretations insist that the early Arab conquerors were religious heroes akin to exceptionally pious ascetics, carrying the banner of their new religion to proselytize the conquered peoples. This fanciful portrayal is not supported by most of the early Muslim accounts, although they were written by sympathetic authors. We cannot view the maghāzī and futūḥ as different kinds of military operations, as traditionalists do. More accurately, they should be viewed as strategic, tactical, and successful campaigns for the purpose of political hegemony and material gain. It is necessary to disassociate political expansion from religious proclamation, because religious testimony becomes distorted when the brutal deeds of military commanders blend with attempts to convert conquered populations. The chapters of this book work together toward testing, and eventually refuting, the traditional interpretation of the motives of the early campaigns. Chapter One was introductory, and surveyed various classical, modern, and contemporary Muslim works that adopt the traditional Muslim approach to maghāzī and futūḥ. It showed the extensive use of such an approach in Muslim writing. This chapter also offered the research rationale, its problem statement, demarcations, and definitions of terms. It concluded by indicating the source problems and highlighting the research methodology as well as its epistemological questions. The major goal of this chapter was to identify the research problem and the methods utilized in analyzing the extant sources. Chapter Two was a literature review. It offered an overview of key literature concerning the topic under study. It summarized and synthesized the arguments of a wide variety of scholarly secondary studies. It identified the important Arabic primary sources consulted in this project. The chapter began by tracing the various Muslim and non-Muslim approaches to the Muslim sources, particularly

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the Qur’ān and the historical writings. It highlighted the major problems found in the Muslim sources, emphasizing the different scholarly arguments and theories offered in that regard. It then presented a list of the various Arabic sources used, indicating the unique contribution offered by each source to this research. This chapter concluded with a section examining secondary literature regarding the motivations for the early Muslim expeditions. Chapter Three focused on Muhammad’s maghāzī (1/622–11/632) as depicted in major sīra, maghāzī, ta’rīkh, and other Arabic Muslim sources. The chief purpose of this chapter was to examine critically the major maghāzī commissioned or led by Muhammad, highlighting what appears to have initiated them. The aim was to test the traditional Muslim hypothesis regarding the religious motivation for these expeditions. It began by examining Muhammad’s early raids, which he commissioned in the first two years after he migrated from Mecca to Medina. It then focused on three major battles led by Muhammad himself—Badr, Uḥud, and the Conquest of Mecca—examining them critically and focusing on their stated motivations as depicted in the Muslim sources. While these three battles formed the crux of this chapter, other major raids were also discussed (e.g., those led by the Prophet against the Jewish tribes and settlements in Arabia). Contrary to traditional Muslim interpretations, the early Believers did not seem to have marched to war to proclaim Islam, but rather to secure financial resources in the form of booty, ransoms, and possessions; such was this chapter’s conclusion. They initiated the campaigns to gain hegemony through the subjugation of the Meccan pagans and Medinan Jews. The raids are better viewed within their tribal, social, and political contexts, as a continuation of the commonly practiced pre-Islamic tribal expedi tions. Islam as a “religion” in the earliest period, was the unifying power around which they united. It provided the Believers with a new identity after they were scattered between tribes, and gave cohesion to the umma. In short, according to Muslim historical accounts, the early raids were not motivated by a pious desire to proclaim a religious message or to liberate the pagan lands by declaring a new faith. Chapter Four, the lengthiest of this project, centered on the early expansion of the umma (11/632–20/641) through the Arab conquests. It examined the futūḥ, which occurred in the first decade after Muhammad’s death, during the caliphate of Abū Bakr and ᶜUmar. It began with an analysis of the precursors of the early futūḥ after the appointment of Abū Bakr as Muhammad’s first successor, such as the Ridda Wars and the expeditions to Syria and Iraq. This was followed by further examination of futūḥ al-Shām, as depicted in major historiographical sunnī and shīᶜī accounts. We then analyzed the conquest of Egypt. The examination of these military activities focused primarily on their stated motivations and reviewed the apparent motives for the Arabs to launch the futūḥ. The chapter concluded that, contrary to traditional Muslim claims, these early futūḥ were hardly driven by the

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desire to proclaim a new faith, nor did they aimto liberate non-Muslim lands from polytheism. They are better viewed as campaigns of military expansion driven by the desire for political consolidation and advancement. These futūḥ sought to secure economic resources for the newly founded Muslim umma at Medina. The argument set forth by the Muslim traditionalists regarding the religious motivation for the early futūḥ is not even supported by Muslim religious medieval writers in their historical accounts. Chapter Five turned to the Qur’ān, exegeting Islam’s scripture on the theme of fighting. It delved into the sacred text’s teachings regarding qitāl and jihad, reflecting on other important Qur’ānic terms such as kāfirūn, ahl al-kitāb, alladhīn ūtū al-kitāb, and fī sabīl Allāh. It highlighted conflicting verses in the Qur’ān regarding fighting the non-Muslims, and analyzed what different Muslim exegetes offer regarding selected verses on fighting. The selected exegetes represent sunnī, shīᶜī, ṣūfī, and muᶜtazilī visions within Islam, covering classical and modern periods. The chapter’s purpose was to contrast between the teachings of the Qur’ān and the interpretations by various Muslim exegetes. The selected Qur’ānic verses discussed various topics, such as fighting in self-defense, no compulsion in religion, fighting the People of the Book, and refraining from fighting, as religion is related to Allah alone. This chapter demonstrated the clear dissonance between what the Qur’ān seems to teach and what the later Muslim commentators suggest concerning war with non-Muslims. It concluded that, while the Qur’ān conflicts with itself regarding aggression against non-Muslims, if one relies solely on the text—instead of later exegetical interpretations affected by sectarian, social, and political contexts—this may provide a compelling case for religious freedom, coexistence, and tolerance, as Muslim thinkers of a more liberal bent have argued for decades. Consulting the sacred text alone could certainly elevate the notion of fighting only for self-defense, as opposed to traditional calls for aggression. In sum, it is textually attested that the Prophet Muhammad successfully led a community of Believers, gathering them from different Arabian tribes. Their devotion to the newly founded umma replaced and surpassed their earlier tribal loyalties. The continuity of social and cultural practices between pre-Islam and Islam, including tribal incursions, was colored by a religious component advanced by the Prophet. This continued successfully after his death through the Caliphs. The portrayal of the military expansion of the umma is a product of medieval Muslim writers. They viewed and represented the expansion through their own religious perspective, and their social, cultural, sectarian, and political contexts affected their accounts. Their historical reports, however, lack any strong support for the tradition al Muslim hypothesis, later adopted and advanced by religious enthusiasts, suggesting that the raids and conquests were defensive operations for the sake of faith proclamation and religious liberation. Contrary to such fanciful

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views, the earliest reports do not depict the early raids and conquests as a campaign by the Arab conquerors to proclaim their faith. Rather, political consolidation and military advancement, as well as securing economic gain through ransoms and spoils of war, served as the chief reasons for the launching of the maghāzī and futūḥ during the period under study.

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NEW STUDIES ON THE MIDDLE EAST

The Stated Motivations for the Early Islamic Expansion (622–641)

Crosscurrents

Ayman S. Ibrahim, Ph.D., was born and raised in Egypt. He has taught in various countries within the Muslim world, and in the West at undergraduate and graduate levels. He is currently working on his second Ph.D. in the Department of Middle Eastern History at the University of Haifa, Mount Carmel, and is examining conversion to Islam in the earliest Muslim period. In addition, he is Associate Professor of Islamic Studies at Southern Seminary and Director of the Jenkins Center for the Christian Understanding of Islam. His articles on Islam and Christian-Muslim relations have appeared in the Washington Post, Religion News Services, Colorado Springs Gazette, Louisville Courier-Journal, First Things, Faith Street, Charisma News, Evangelical Interfaith Dialogue Journal, Ethics Daily, among others.

The Stated Motivations for the Early Islamic Expansion (622–641) | IBRAHIM

What motivated the early Islamic conquests? Did the Arabs fight for Allah, or for wealth and dominance? Were the conquerors principally Arabs, or specifically Muslims? Were the Muslim believers motivated by religious zeal to proclaim Islam to the non-Muslims? Consequently, was Islam spread by the sword? This is a question that has crucial implications today. The Stated Motivations for the Early Islamic Expansion (622–641) extensively analyzes the earliest Arabic Muslim sources to answer these and other questions. It relies on over 400 works, including primary sources written by more than 90 medieval Muslim authors, Sunni, Shiite, Sufi, and Mu’tazilite. It explores how medieval Muslim writers represented the early Arab leaders, and how much we can trust their reports. It concludes with an examination of the Qur’ān’s commands regarding fighting and armed jihad, and questions what later commentators suggest about fighting the non-Muslims, specifically how radical Muslim interpretations match or violate Islam’s sacred scripture. This is the first scholarly analysis to focus on the stated motivations for the early Islamic expansion in the first two decades of Islam. It is a valuable resource for courses on Muslim history, introduction to Islam, Islamic origins and texts, classical and modern Islamic thought, Muhammad’s biography, Islamic Caliphates, Muslim-Christian relations, Jews in the Muslim world, Middle Eastern history, and world history. In the age of ISIS, Qaeda, and Boko Haram, this book reflects on how historiographical accounts can inform today’s multi-cultural and multi-religious societies on complex relations, mutual respect, and religious coexistence.

A Critical Revision of Muslims’ Traditional Portrayal of the Arab Raids and Conquests AYMAN S. IBRAHIM