The historicists came to be known as Sunnis and their main opponents as Shīʿites. These labels are somewhat misleading because they imply that only the Sunnis tried to follow the Sunnah of Muhammad. In fact, each group relied on the Sunnah but emphasized different elements. For the Sunnis, who should more properly be called the Jamāʿī-Sunnis, the principle of solidarity was essential to the Sunnah. The Shīʿites argued that the fundamental element of the Sunnah, and one willfully overlooked by the Jamāʿī-Sunnis, was Muhammad’s devotion to his family and his wish that they succeed him through ʿAlī. These new labels expressed and consolidated the social reorganization that had been under way since the beginning of the conquests. The vast majority of Muslims now became consensus-oriented, while a small minority became oppositional. The inherent inimitability of Muhammad’s role had made it impossible for any form of successorship to capture universal approval.
When the ʿAbbāsids denied the special claims of the family of ʿAlī, they prompted the Shīʿites to define themselves as a permanent opposition to the status quo. The crystallization of Shīʿism into a movement of protest received its greatest impetus during and just after the lifetime of one of the most influential Shīʿite leaders of the early ʿAbbāsid period, Jaʿfar al-Ṣādiq (died 765). Jaʿfar’s vision and leadership allowed the Shīʿites to understand their chaotic history as a meaningful series of efforts by truly pious and suffering Muslims to right the wrongs of the majority. The leaders of the minority had occupied the office of imam, the central Shīʿite institution, which had been passed on from the first imam, ʿAlī, by designation down to Jaʿfar, the sixth. To protect his followers from increasing Sunni hostility to the views of radical Shīʿites, known as the ghulāt (“extremists”), who claimed prophethood for ʿAlī, Jaʿfar made a distinction that both protected the uniqueness of prophethood and established the superiority of the role of imam. Since prophethood had ended, its true intent would die without the imams, whose protection from error allowed them to carry out their indispensable task.
Although Jaʿfar did develop an ideology that invited Sunni toleration, he did not unify all Shīʿites. Differences continued to be expressed through loyalty to various of his relatives. During Jaʿfar’s lifetime, his uncle Zayd revolted in Kūfah (740), founding the branch of Shīʿism known as the Zaydiyyah (Zaydis), or Fivers (for their allegiance to the fifth imam), who became particularly important in southern Arabia. Any pious follower of ʿAlī could become their imam, and any imam could be deposed if he behaved unacceptably. The Shīʿite majority followed Jaʿfar’s son Mūsā al-Kāẓim and imams in his line through the 12th, who disappeared in 873. Those loyal to the 12 imams became known as the Imāmīs or Ithnā ʿAshariyyah (Twelvers). They adopted a quietistic stance toward the status quo government of the ʿAbbāsids and prepared to wait until the 12th imam should return as the messiah to avenge injustices against Shīʿites and to restore justice before the Last Judgment. Some of Jaʿfar’s followers, however, remained loyal to Ismāʿīl, Jaʿfar’s eldest son who predeceased his father after being designated. These became the Ismāʿīliyyah (Ismāʿīlīs) or Sabʿiyyah (Seveners), and they soon became a source of continuing revolution in the name of Ismāʿīl’s son Muḥammad al-Tamm, who was believed to have disappeared. Challenges to the ʿAbbāsids were not long in coming; of particular significance was the establishment in 789 of the first independent Shīʿite dynasty, in present-day Morocco, by Idrīs ibn ʿAbd Allāh ibn Ḥasan II, who had fled after participating in an unsuccessful uprising near Mecca. Furthermore, Kharijite rebellions continued to occur regularly.
The ʿAbbāsids
Legitimacy was a scarce and fragile resource in all premodern societies; in the early ʿAbbāsid environment, competition to define and secure legitimacy was especially intense. The ʿAbbāsids came to power vulnerable; their early actions undermined the unitive potential of their office. Having alienated the Shīʿites, they liquidated the Umayyad family, one of whom, ʿAbd al-Raḥmān I, escaped and founded his own state in Andalusia. Although the ʿAbbāsids were able to buttress their legitimacy by employing the force of their Khorāsānian army, by appealing to their piety-minded support, and by emphasizing their position as heirs to the pre-Islamic traditions of rulership, their own circumstances and policies militated against them. Despite their continuing preference for Khorāsānian troops, the ʿAbbāsids’ move to Iraq and their execution of Abū Muslim disappointed the Khorāsānian chauvinists who had helped them. The non-Muslim majority often rebelled too. Bihʾāfrīd ibn Farwardīn claimed to be a prophet capable of incorporating both Mazdeism and Islam into a new faith. Hāshim ibn Ḥākim, called al-Muqannaʿ (“the Veiled One”), around 759 declared himself a prophet and then a god, heir to all previous prophets, to numerous followers of ʿAlī, and to Abū Muslim himself.
The ʿAbbāsids symbolized their connection with their pre-Islamic predecessors by founding a new capital, Baghdad, near the old Sāsānian capital. They also continued to elaborate the Sāsānian-like structure begun by the Marwānid governors in Iraq. Their court life became more and more elaborate, the bureaucracy fuller, the inner sanctum of the palace fuller than ever with slaves and concubines as well as the retinues of the caliph’s four legal wives. By the time of Hārūn al-Rashīd (ruled 786–809), Europe had nothing to compare with Baghdad, not even the court of his contemporary Charlemagne (ruled 768–814). But problems surfaced too. Slaves’ sons fathered by Muslims were not slaves and so could compete for the succession. Despite the ʿAbbāsids’ defense of Islam, unconverted Jews and Christians could be influential at court. The head (vizier, or wazīr) of the financial bureaucracy sometimes became the effective head of government by taking over the chancery as well. Like all absolute rulers, the ʿAbbāsid caliphs soon confronted the insoluble dilemma of absolutism: the monarch cannot be absolute unless he depends on helpers, but his dependence on helpers undermines his absolutism. Hārūn al-Rashīd experienced this paradox in a particularly painful way: having drawn into his service prominent members of a family of Buddhist converts, the Barmakids, he found them such rivals that he liquidated them within a matter of years. It was also during Hārūn’s reign that Ibrāhīm ibn al-Aghlab, a trusted governor in Tunis, founded a dynasty that gradually became independent, as did the Ṭāhirids, the ʿAbbāsid governors in Khorāsān, two decades later.
The ʿAbbāsids’ ability to rival their pre-Islamic predecessors was enhanced by their generous patronage of artists and artisans of all kinds. The great 7,000-mile Silk Road from Ch’ang-an (now Xi’an [Sian], China) to Baghdad—then the two largest cities in the world—helped provide the wealth. The ensuing literary florescence was promoted by the capture of a group of Chinese papermakers at the Battle of Talas in 751. The ʿAbbāsids encouraged translation from pre-Islamic languages, particularly Middle Persian, Greek, and Syriac. This activity provided a channel through which older thought could enter and be reoriented by Islamicate societies. In the field of mathematics, al-Khwārizmī, from whose name the word algorithm is derived, creatively combined Hellenistic and Sanskritic concepts. The word algebra derives from the title of his major work, Kitāb al-jabr wa al-muqābalah (“The Book of Integration and Equation”). Movements such as falsafah (a combination of the positive sciences with logic and metaphysics) and kalām (systematic theological discourse) applied Hellenistic thought to new questions. The translation of Indo-Persian lore promoted the development of adab, a name for a sophisticated prose literature as well as the set of refined urbane manners that characterized its clientele. Soon a movement called shuʿūbiyyah arose to champion the superiority of non-Arabic tastes over the alleged crudeness of the poetry so dear to Arabic litterateurs. However, the great writer of early ʿAbbāsid times, al-Jāḥiẓ, produced a type of adab that fused pre-Islamic and Islamic concerns in excellent Arabic style. Many of these extra-Islamic resources conflicted with Islamic expectations. Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ, an administrator under al-Manṣūr (ruled 754–775), urged his master to emulate pre-Islamic models, lest the law that the religious specialists (the ulama) were developing undermine caliphal authority irrevocably.
The ʿAbbāsids never acted on such advice completely; they even contravened it by appealing for piety-minded support. Having encouraged conversion, they tried to “purify” the Muslim community of what they perceived to be socially dangerous and alien ideas. Al-Mahdī (ruled 775–785) actively persecuted the Manichaeans, whom he defined as heretics so as to deny them status as a protected community. He also tried to identify Manichaeans who had joined the Muslim community without abandoning their previous ideas and practices. ʿAbbāsid “purification of Islam” ironically coincided with some of the most significant absorption of pre-Islamic monotheistic lore to date, as illustrated by the stories of the prophets written by Al-Kisāʾī, grammarian and tutor to a royal prince. Even though, like the Marwānids, the ʿAbbāsids continued to maintain administrative courts, not accessible to the qāḍīs, they also promoted the study of ʿilm and the status of those who pursued it. In so doing they fostered what Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ had feared—the emergence of an independent body of law, Sharīʿah, which Muslims could use to evaluate and circumvent caliphal rule itself.
Sharīʿah
A key figure in the development of Sharīʿah was Abū ʿAbd Allāh al-Shāfiʿī, who died in 820. By his time Islamic law was extensive but uncoordinated, reflecting differing local needs and tastes. Schools had begun to form around various recognized masters, such as al-Awzāʿī in Syria, Abū Ḥanīfah in Iraq, and Mālik ibn Anas, all of whom used some combination of local custom, personal reasoning, Qurʾān, and Hadith. Al-Shāfiʿī was raised in Mecca, studied with Mālik, participated in a Shīʿite revolt in the Yemen, and was sent to Baghdad as a prisoner of the caliph. After his release he emigrated to Egypt, where he produced his most famous work. Like most other faqīhs (students of jurisprudence, or fiqh), al-Shāfiʿī viewed Muhammad’s community as a social ideal and his first four successors as rightly guided. So that this exemplary time could provide the basis for Islamic law, he constructed a hierarchy of legal sources: Qurʾān; Hadith, clearly traceable to Muhammad and in some cases to his companions; ijmāʿ (consensus); and qiyās (analogy to one of the first three).
The way in which Islamic law had developed had allowed many pre-Islamic customs, such as the veiling and seclusion of women, to receive a sanction not given to them in the Qurʾān or the Hadith. Al-Shāfiʿī did not change that entirely. Law continued to be pursued in different centres, and several major “ways” (madhhabs) began to coalesce among Sunnis and Shīʿites alike. Among Sunnis, four schools came to be preeminent—Shāfiʿiyyah (Shafiites), Mālikiyyah (Malikites), Ḥanafiyyah (Hanafites), and Ḥanābilah (Hanbalites)—and each individual Muslim was expected to restrict himself to only one. Furthermore, the notion that the gate of ijtihād (personal effort at reasoning) closed in the 9th century was not firmly established until the 12th century. However, al-Shāfiʿī’s system was widely influential in controlling divergence and in limiting undisciplined forms of personal reasoning. It also stimulated the collecting and testing of hadiths for their unbroken traceability to Muhammad or a companion. The need to verify Hadith stimulated a characteristic form of premodern Muslim intellectual and literary activity, the collecting of biographical materials into compendiums (ṭabaqāt). By viewing the Qurʾān and documentable Sunnah as preeminent, al-Shāfiʿī also undermined those in ʿAbbāsid court circles who wanted a more flexible base from which the caliph could operate. The Sharīʿah came to be a supremely authoritative, comprehensive set of norms and rules covering every aspect of life, from worship to personal hygiene. It applied equally to all Muslims, including the ruler, whom Sharīʿah-minded Muslims came to view as its protector, not its administrator or developer. While the caliphs were toying with theocratic notions of themselves as the shadow of God on earth, the students of legal knowledge were defining their rule as “nomocratic,” based only on the law they protected and enforced.
According to the Sharīʿah, a Muslim order was one in which the ruler was Muslim and the Sharīʿah was enshrined as a potential guide to all; Muslims were one confessional community among many, each of which would have its own laws that would apply except in disputes between members of different communities. The Sharīʿah regulated relations and inequities among different segments of society—freeborn Muslim, slave, and protected non-Muslim. The process that produced Sharīʿah resembled the evolution of oral Torah and rabbinic law, which the Sharīʿah resembled in its comprehensiveness, egalitarianism, and consensualism, in its absorption of local custom, in its resistance to distinguishing the sublime from the mundane, and in its independence from government. Like many Jews, many ultra-pious Muslims came to view the law as a divine rather than human creation.
The fourth fitnah
During the reign of al-Maʾmūn (813–833) the implications of all this ʿilm-based activity for caliphal authority began to become clear. Al-Maʾmūn came to the caliphate as the result of the fourth fitnah, which reflected the persisting alienation of Khorāsān. Al-Maʾmūn’s father, Hārūn al-Rashīd, provided for the empire to be divided at his death between two sons. Al-Amīn would rule in the capital and all the western domains, and al-Maʾmūn, from his provincial seat at Merv in Khorāsān, would rule the less significant east. When Hārūn died, his sons struggled to expand their control. Al-Maʾmūn won. During his reign, which probably represents the high point of caliphal absolutism, the court intervened in an unprecedented manner in the intellectual life of its Muslim subjects, who for the next generation engaged in the first major intra-Muslim conflict that focused on belief as well as practice. The Muslims, who now constituted a much more sizable proportion of the population but whose faith lacked doctrinal clarity, began to engage in an argument reminiscent of 2nd-century Christian discussions of the Logos. Among Christians, for whom the Word was Jesus, the argument had taken a Christological form. But for Muslims the argument had to centre on the Qurʾān and its created or uncreated nature. Al-Maʾmūn, as well as his brother and successor al-Muʿtaṣim (833–842), was attracted to the Muʿtazilah (Mutazilites), whose school had been influenced by Hellenistic ideas as well as by contact with non-Muslim theologians. If the Qurʾān were eternal along with God, his unity would, for the Muʿtazilah, be violated. They especially sought to avoid literal exegesis of the Qurʾān, which in their view discouraged free will and produced embarrassing inconsistencies and anthropomorphisms. By arguing that the Qurʾān was created in time, they could justify metaphorical and changing interpretation. By implication, Muhammad’s position as deliverer of revelation was undermined because Hadith was made less authoritative.
The opponents of the Muʿtazilah, and therefore of the official position, coalesced around the figure of Aḥmad ibn Ḥanbal. A leading master of Hadith, he had many followers, some of them recent converts, whom he was able to mobilize in large public demonstrations against the doctrine of the created Qurʾān. Because viewing the Qurʾān as created would invalidate its absolute authority, Ibn Ḥanbal argued for an eternal Qurʾān and emphasized the importance of Muhammad’s Sunnah to the understanding of it. By his time, major literary works had established a coherent image of the indispensability of Muhammad’s prophethood; in fact, just before the Muʿtazilite controversy began, Ibn Hishām had produced his classic recension of the sīrah, or life, of Muhammad, composed half a century earlier by Ibn Isḥāq. As in the early Christian church, these were not merely dogmatic issues. They were rooted in the way ordinary Muslims lived, just as affection for a divine Christ had become popular sentiment by the time Arius and Athanasius debated. Although Muslims lacked an equivalent of the Christian church, they resolved these issues similarly. Like Jesus for the Christians, the Qurʾān for the Muslims was somehow part of God. Hadith-mindedness and emulation of Muhammad’s Sunnah had become such an essential part of the daily life of ordinary people that the Muʿtazilite position, as intellectually consistent and attractive as it was, was unmarketable. In a series of forcible inquiries called miḥnah, al-Maʾmūn and al-Muʿtaṣim actively persecuted those who, like Ibn Ḥanbal, would not conform, but popular sentiment triumphed, and after al-Muʿtaṣim’s death the caliph al-Mutawakkil was forced to reverse the stand of his predecessors.
This caliphal failure to achieve doctrinal unity coincided with other crises. By al-Muʿtaṣim’s reign the tribal troops were becoming unreliable and the Ṭāhirid governors of Khorāsān more independent. Al-Muʿtaṣim expanded his use of military slaves, finding them more loyal but more unruly too. Soon he had to house them at Sāmarrāʾ, a new capital north of Baghdad, where the caliphate remained until 892. For most of this period, the caliphs were actually under the control of their slave soldiery, and, even though they periodically reasserted their authority, rebellions continued. Many were anti-Muslim, like that of the Iranian Bābak (whose 20-year-long revolt was crushed in 837), but increasingly they were intra-Muslim, like the Kharijite-led revolt of black agricultural slaves (Zanj) in southern Iraq (869–883). By 870 then, the Baghdad-Sāmarrāʾ caliphate had become one polity among many; its real rulers had no ideological legitimacy. At Córdoba the Umayyads had declared their independence, and the Maghrib was divided among several dynasties of differing persuasions—the Shīʿite Idrīsids, the Kharijite Rustamids, and the Jamāʿī-Sunni Aghlabids. The former governors of the ʿAbbāsids, the Ṭūlūnids, ruled Egypt and parts of Arabia. Iran was divided between the Ṣaffārids, governors of the ʿAbbāsids in the south, and the Persian Sāmānids in the north.
The centrifugal forces represented by these administrative divisions should not obscure, however, the existence of numerous centripetal forces that continued to give Islamdom, from Andalusia to Central Asia, other types of unity. The ideal of the caliphate continued to be a source of unity after the reality waned; among all the new states, no alternative to the caliphate could replace it. Furthermore, now that Muslims constituted a majority almost everywhere in Islamdom, conflict began to be expressed almost exclusively in Islamic rather than anti-Islamic forms. In spite of continuing intra-Muslim conflict, Muslim worship and belief remained remarkably uniform. The annual pilgrimage to Mecca helped reinforce this underlying unity by bringing disparate Muslims together in a common rite. The pilgrimage, as well as the rise of prosperous regional urban centres, enhanced the trade that traversed Islamdom regardless of political conflicts; along the trade routes that crisscrossed Eurasia, Islamdom at its centre, moved not only techniques and goods but ideas as well. A network of credit and banking, caravansaries, and intercity mercantile alliances tied far-flung regions together. Central was the caravan, then the world’s most effective form of transport. The peripatetic nature of education promoted cross-fertilization. Already the faqīr (fakir), a wandering mendicant Sufi dervish, was a familiar traveler. Across Islamdom, similar mosque-market complexes sprang up in most towns; because municipal institutions were rare, political stability so unpredictable, and government intervention kept to a minimum (sometimes by design, more often by necessity), the Sharīʿah and the learned men who carried it became a mainstay of everyday life and social intercourse. The Sharīʿah, along with the widespread affection for the Sunnah of Muhammad, regulated, at least among pious Muslims, personal habits of the most specific sort, from the use of scent to the cut of a beard. Comprehensive and practical, the Sunnah could amuse as well. When asked whether to trust in God or tie one’s camel, so a popular hadith goes, the Prophet replied, “Trust in God, then tie your camel.”
The significance of Hadith and Sunnah is represented by the ending date of the period of conversion and crystallization. No one can say exactly when the majority of Islamdom’s population became Muslim. Older scholarship looks to the end of the first quarter of the 9th century, newer scholarship to the beginning of the third quarter. In 870 a man died whose life’s work symbolized the consolidation of Islam in everyday life: al-Bukhārī, who produced one of the six collections of Hadith recognized as authoritative by Jamāʿī-Sunni Muslims. His fellow collector of Hadith, Muslim ibn al-Ḥajjāj, died about four years later. About the same time, classical thinkers in other areas of Islamicate civilization died, among them the great author of adab, al-Jāḥiẓ (died 868/869), the great early ecstatic Sufis Abū al-Fayḍ Dhū al-Nūn al-Miṣrī (died 861) and Abū Yazīd Bisṭāmī (died 874), the philosopher Yaʿqūb ibn Isḥaq al-Ṣabāḥ al-Kindī (died c. 870), and the historian of the conquests al-Balādhurī (died c. 892). Men of different religious and ethnic heritages, they signified by the last quarter of the 9th century the full and varied range of intellectual activities of a civilization that had come of age.