Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ and the Secretarial Discourse of Knowledge

My inquiry treats Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ and his political ideas within the broader context of the first/seventh-century formation and expansion of the Arab Empire in the Fertile Crescent and Iran. This investigation highlights the strong link between the innovative character of Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s Risāla and what I call the “secretarial discourse of knowledge”—a discourse constructed diligently by the literate elite of the conquered peoples who found an eager employer in the imperial state administration. Indeed, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s intellectual and professional upbringing took place within the emerging group of Iranian secretaries and administrators wherein he had occasion to interact with his Arab patrons and literary men in southern Iraq.

Sources of early Islamic history unanimously remark how the fledgling Muslim state relied upon the elites of conquered peoples for the successful upkeep of the imperial as well as provincial administrations. Particularly important for the Muslim state were revenues generated through the collection of land tax (kharāj) and poll tax (jizya).Footnote ⁷ Iranian village heads (dehgāns/dihqāns) in Iraq had previously negotiated peace treaties during the Arab conquest of the 10s/630s and 20s/640s.Footnote ⁸ When the Sasanian army failed to protect Iranian territories in a series of battles against numerous bands of Arab warriors, the dihqāns’ interaction with the conquerors ensured that Iranian subjects remained situated on their lands and were recognized as protected (dhimmī) communities in return for the payment of a poll tax and land tax. Indeed, the dihqāns proved instrumental in putting in place systems of tax collection and record-keeping as well as other government functions.Footnote ⁹ Originating from within the pre-Islamic landed aristocracy that had previously served the Sasanian state administration with its relatively decentralized system of tax collection, the dihqāns helped the Arab conquerors to establish and maintain a state administration in the conquered territories of Iraq and Iran. In so doing, the dihqāns managed to retain their position, assessing and collecting taxes for the Muslim state which in turn allowed them to regain a large portion of their power and influence. Some dihqāns would abuse their position to accumulate personal wealth at the expense of their suffering countrymen.Footnote ¹⁰

Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ belonged to this larger emerging cadre of non-Arab, non-Muslim government bureaucrats.Footnote ¹¹ Born to a Zoroastrian dihqān family and named Rōzbeh at birth, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s conversion to Islam took place sometime during or after the Abbasid Revolution reportedly “at the hand” of his patron ʿĪsā b. ʿAlī, a paternal uncle to the first two Abbasid caliphs. His work as a public servant, however, had previously begun when he befriended ʿAbd al-Ḥamīd b. Yaḥyā (d. 132/750), secretary to the last Umayyad Caliph Marwan II (r. 125–32/743–50).Footnote ¹² Despite a lack of reliable information, we can surmise that their friendship and professional relationship must have had a profound impact on Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s intellectual growth.Footnote ¹³ After all, ʿAbd al-Ḥamīd was a forefather of adab and the mirror genre.Footnote ¹⁴ This genre functioned as a literary medium and facilitated the creative adaptation of ancient political ideas. It also served to construct a cultural edifice centered on the knowledge of polity, statecraft, and court manners. Reproduced and transferred by the secretaries to Muslim society in both translations and original compositions, the ancient Iranian and Hellenistic conceptions of the polity constituted an influential discourse of knowledge that addressed questions of political authority, the nature of power, the relationship between ruler and subject, the role of religion, social hierarchy, and efficient socioeconomic management. However, just as the secretarial discourse drew heavily on ancient knowledge, so also it incorporated much from Islamic ideas and ideals of governance and justice. ʿAbd al-Ḥamīd's epistles (rasāʾil, sing. risāla) proved instrumental in setting the tone for the secretarial discourse which manifested itself in the syncretism of the mirrors genre and Islamic ideas grounded in the Qurʾān. Unlike his mentor Sālim Abu ’l-ʿAlāʾ (d. ca. 740), whose translation of the pseudo-Aristotelian letters had set the stage for the importing of Greek and Iranian political wisdom into Islam, ʿAbd al-Ḥamīd's writings emanated directly from his creative pen in the form of epistles addressed to a preeminent audience.Footnote ¹⁵ His Epistle to the Secretaries (Risāla ilā ’l-Kuttāb) calls attention to a holistic conception of knowledge which, according to ‘Abd al-Ḥamīd, encompasses religious, moral, historical, philosophical, and technical elements. Most notably, knowledge of the Qurʾān, Prophetic traditions, and pre-Islamic histories of both Arabs and non-Arabs (ʿajam) occupy as important a place in a secretary's repertoire as do the craft of writing and arithmetic.Footnote ¹⁶ Likewise, ʿAbd al-Ḥamīd's Epistle to the Crown Prince (Fī Naṣīḥat Walī ’l-ʿAhd) emphasizes moral righteousness and codes of courtly etiquette. In it the prince is urged to familiarize himself with the Qurʾān and to heed moral vices as the greater threat to his prosperity.Footnote ¹⁷

Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ built upon this influential and expanding body of texts in order to produce his translations and compositions, ushering in a new era in mirrors literature. While we are concerned primarily with Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s solution to the crisis of legitimacy as articulated in his Risāla, we are to note that this epistle brought to bear key concepts from the author's earlier works. This context will allow us to identify the preexisting elements that came together in Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s political thought. By the time he wrote his Risāla to al-Manṣūr, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ had already produced several texts of special import. In a vein similar to his predecessors, Sālim and ʿAbd al-Ḥamīd, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ made profound contributions to the development of early Arabic prose.Footnote ¹⁸ His translations into Arabic of Sasanian court literature were purportedly intended for statesmen, courtiers, and the nobility. The most popular were Khwādāynāma, Tājnāma, and Kalīla wa Dimna, itself an adaptation of the Indian Fables of Bīdpāy or Pānchātāntrā. These translations, coupled with his Arabic compositions on court mannerism such as al-Adab ‘l-Kabīr and ʿAhd Ardashīr (Testament of Ardashīr), contributed immensely to the rise of adab, a literary genre denoting cultural refinement that integrated ancient wisdom, Islamic moral principles, and political aphorisms. Adab literature, including translations and original compositions, introduced novel ideas and concepts, and addressed, among other things, questions of political authority and legitimacy. Indeed, adab functioned as a literary instrument and advanced a hybrid discourse of knowledge advocated by the secretaries. Whereas this genre borrowed a great deal of its content from ancient sources, most notably Middle Persian and Greek, it consciously refashioned that content in an Islamic, if cosmopolitan, cloak. Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ played an instrumental role in turning adab into a discourse of knowledge. To that end, adab functioned as a literary medium to deploy various ideas into the field of political consciousness.

Particularly important is how adab created a textual syncretism of ancient political wisdom and Islamic teachings. We must bear in mind that the ancient wisdom was filtered through the minds of composers and translators, just as Islamic teachings were subject to intense debate and interpretation by jurists, traditionists, theologians, men of letters, and political enthusiasts. The fluidity of texts, ideas, and meanings thus provided Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ and his fellow secretaries with opportunities to redefine them by devising a literary apparatus capable of promoting a new mode of political thought. Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ is widely believed to have concerned himself with promoting the political and cultural ideals of the former Sasanian Empire.Footnote ¹⁹ While Sasanian political ideas figure prominently in the translations of Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ and those of his predecessors, the larger secretarial oeuvre should be regarded as more than rendering ancient fables and aphorisms into Arabic. Once translated into the Arabic of the Islamic milieu, the new texts transcended the boundaries of ancient Iranian culture in that they assimilated a host of Islamic ideas and imperial priorities, hence reflecting a cosmopolitan Islamic approach to the polity and society.Footnote ²⁰ Likewise, the new texts reflected as much the contemporary concerns in post-conquest society as they painted an accurate image of the Sasanian state and society. In fact, the extent to which the translators and secretaries accurately transmitted Iranian traditions of statecraft in their entirety is hard to ascertain. Since we do not have access to the Pahlavi originals of the translated texts, we cannot confidently determine historical details of the Sasanian state and society as reflected in their Arabic adaptations. The literary sources and chronicles which recount parts of ancient Iranian history—e.g., those by Ṭabarī, Thaʿālibī, Ibn Qutayba, and Miskawayh— rely for the most part on the translations done by the secretaries.Footnote ²¹ We can envision, then, that the translators drew upon the pre-Islamic cultural reservoir to grapple with the pressing issues of their own time and space. In doing so, they took the liberty to mold the old literary materials to respond to the urgent issues of the day. As exemplified in earlier translations, such as Sālim's adaptations of (pseudo-)Aristotelian letters, the secretaries could hardly have accomplished so much had they aimed for word-for-word, literal translations of ancient texts that would endeavor to remain loyal to their “original” meaning—if these secretaries ever had access to the “original” meaning.Footnote ²² Rather, their feat consisted in appropriating ancient ideas, such as perennial knowledge, divinely ordained kingship, justice, and legitimate government, and refashioning them for a cosmopolitan Islamic society and the Arab Empire. The act of appropriation, then, minimized the risk of adverse reaction on the part of Muslim society and the Islamic state against the adoption of non-Arab heathen ideas.

Adab stirred immense interest among courtiers and statesmen, not only because it was composed in the most innovative Arabic prose, but also because it created a seamless hybrid of political ideas which, regardless of their origin, resonated with the intended audience. Such ingenious hybridization, conspicuous in the secretaries’ translations and compositions, stands out as a salient feature of their discourse of knowledge. ʿAbd al-Ḥamīd's Rasāʾil had previously paved the way for incorporation of several discourse components, particularly technical know-how as well as a mixture of Islamic and ancient political principles, into secretarial training, hence creating a framework to conceptualize statecraft.Footnote ²³ Of importance in the secretarial discourse is the overarching notion of perennial ancient wisdom and its function in establishing a flourishing tradition of statecraft. This connection is conspicuous in almost every work of Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ, especially in his foremost treatise on adab—i.e., al-Adab ’l-Kabīr—where he makes a case for the utility of ancient knowledge. Adab is presented as the cumulation of past wisdom, a requisite for successful governance. The treatise invites the reader to imagine a continuous line that connects him to the reservoirs of past knowledge. The ancestors are declared superior not only in their physical but also their intellectual abilities. This alone provides a viable justification to learn from ancient history and acquire the ancestral wisdom.Footnote ²⁴

Just as Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ made a case for the priority of learning perennial ancient wisdom, so also his translations and compositions followed in ʿAbd al-Ḥamīd's footsteps by assimilating the Arabo-Islamic notion of “tradition” (sunna) into the secretarial discourse. The pre-Islamic, Arabian notion of sunna denoted “the established customary practice of the tribe, validated by tradition and by the deeds of the ancestors.”Footnote ²⁵ It was against this Arabian backdrop that the juristic notion of sunna began to form and underwent changes in the first two centuries of Islam. While for the scholars of Prophetic tradition the notion of sunna was presumably limited to the Prophet's and the “rightly-guided” caliphs’ practices as validated by sound reports (hadīths), there is reason to believe that this strict interpretation had not yet fully crystalized by the time Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ composed his works. Sunna, as illustrated by Crone and Hinds, was conceived of as “good practice in general and that of prophets and caliphs in particular.”Footnote ²⁶ It is precisely this general sense of sunna that allowed Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ to bring both pre- and post-Islamic “good practice” into harmony. Accordingly, adab incorporated this larger sunna, reflected in the experience and refined customs of foreign nations—especially Iranians—as well as those of the Arabs before and after the advent of Islam.Footnote ²⁷

This particular trait is discernible in the translation by Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ of the Letter of Tansar, a late-Sasanian political tract that recounts the origins of the dynasty and strives to make a case for its legitimate rule.Footnote ²⁸ This letter deals with several themes, such as sunna in its broad sense, social hierarchy, political authority, and the pivotal role of religion in creating legitimate rule, themes that figure prominently in Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s Risāla fī ’l-Ṣaḥāba. The political wisdom contained in the tract emanates from the protagonist Tansar, a Zoroastrian monk, who is purportedly heir to a Parthian kingdom.Footnote ²⁹ Tansar chooses to defer his right of succession to Ardashīr (ca. 226–40), the founder of the Sasanian dynasty.Footnote ³⁰ The Letter recounts Tansar's answers to politically sensitive questions posed by his interlocutor Gushnasp, the king of Ṭabaristān, who for a while refuses to recognize Ardashīr's rule. Articulating his answers, Tansar treats the theoretical and practical issues involved in legitimate political order. Though not stated explicitly, it is clear that the validity and strength of Tansar's answers rests on his knowledge of religion, history, and statecraft. Tansar, however, seems to have been no more than a mythical figure, created in the mind of an unidentified mid-sixth-century court historian-cum-propagandist who decided—or most likely was commissioned—to expound the origins of the Sasanian dynasty and their empire.Footnote ³¹

Importantly, the Letter of Tansar offers a vehement apologia for a rigid social hierarchy, the kind which reigned supreme in Sasanian Persia. In such a society, legitimate government relies on a caste-based social order. This government can readily impose a desired hierarchy, designating subjects to their proper social places and discouraging class mobility as best it can.Footnote ³² Generally, attempts to change socioeconomic class, the Letter suggests, will result in confusion and social strife, unless someone demonstrates extraordinary talent for a profession to which he was not born and if such a change of caste is approved by the monarch.Footnote ³³ Unlike his ancestors who were content with their professions and means of living, Tansar laments that “[w]hen corruption became rife and men ceased to submit to Religion, Reason, and the State, and all sense of values disappeared, it was only through bloodshed that honour could be restored to such a realm.”Footnote ³⁴ This particular Sasanian imperial trope, as will be demonstrated shortly, recurs in his Risāla where Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ urges the caliph to exercise the utmost caution in selecting his entourage, taking care to ensure each member's proper rank in the social hierarchy. Of greater interest, however, is that Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ takes pains to bring the Sasanian caste system into harmony with the Islamic vision of an egalitarian social order that, in principle, does not acquiesce to a caste system.Footnote ³⁵ He thus places emphasis on the knowledge, moral virtues, and sense of justice which he believes accompany noble status. In other words, nobility, more than anything, is associated with virtuous dispositions.

The translation of the Letter and those of similar tracts such as ʿAhd Ardashīr, another Pahlavī text whose translation is attributed to Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ,Footnote ³⁶ characterize a concerted effort to outline the contours of a legitimate political system. A vigorous response to the crisis of political legitimacy—a crisis made evident by the ongoing strife and rebellion in the Umayyad Empire—the Letter identifies constitutive elements of a desired political order, constructing a discourse that aims to consolidate both Islamic and ancient political ideals so as to downplay any potential conflict between pre-Islamic traditions and Islamic teachings and practices. To that end, the Letter posits religion as the foundation of the state: “Do not marvel at my zeal and ardour for promoting order in the world, that the foundation of the laws of the Faith be firmed. For religion and kingship were born of one womb and never to be sundered.”Footnote ³⁷

This and other assertions about the import of religion seemingly catered to Islam's role in ordering society and polity alike. The Letter of Tansar is testimony to the secretary's ability, in his capacity as a composer and translator, to employ hybridization as a strategy for enlisting agents of different political stripes. The Letter further highlights the secretary's ability to put forward solutions to complex political problems. This being the case, we need not concern ourselves with how closely Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s translation followed the original text of the Letter. Even if he opted to alter or embellish the content to advance the secretarial discourse, his adaptation reveals, to a large degree, his concerns as well as the goals he strove to attain.Footnote ³⁸ Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ must have felt strongly about the chronic political ills of his times, which reached a critical point with the Abbasid Revolution. Benefiting from his Abbasid masters’ familial relationship with the Revolution's leaders, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ seized the opportunity to articulate his political ideas in a treatise that, in all likelihood, was the first attempt in Islamic history to outline a theory of government.

Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ and His Risāla in Medieval and Modern Scholarship

As a forefather of adab and mirrors literature, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s work made him a key figure in Arabic humanist literature and attracted acclaim as well as censure.Footnote ³⁹ Already in the 220s/840s the Muʿtazilī theologian and essayist al-Jāḥiẓ was alarmed by the immense influence Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ and his mentor ʿAbd al-Ḥamīd exerted on court culture and state secretaries. In Dhamm Akhlāq ’l-Kuttāb (Repudiating the Secretaries’ Conduct) Jāḥiẓ brought to bear all his literary genius in denouncing the secretaries for their allegedly innumerable vices, calling them names, declaring their knowledge to be mere ignorance.Footnote ⁴⁰ “[N]o secretary has ever been seen,” wrote Jāḥiẓ, “to make the Qurʾān his evening companion, its study his banner, gaining knowledge of religion his emblem, or memorizing reports of the Prophet's words and deeds his prop.”Footnote ⁴¹ In contrast, Masʿūdī related that in his day collections of ʿAbd al-Ḥamīd's epistles were known as the best specimens of Arabic prose.Footnote ⁴² Likewise, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ was widely cited in Arabic literary works, receiving credit as an exemplar of adab. He was also regarded as the foremost zindīq, which had the double meaning of Manichean and irreligious.Footnote ⁴³ Abū Rayḥān Bīrūnī (d. 440/1048) asserted that Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ had added to Kalīla wa Dimna the famous introduction, known as the “Bāb-e Borzōye, the Physician,” so as to undermine religious belief and to promote Manichaeism.Footnote ⁴⁴ To Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ is also attributed a text, Muʿāraḍat ’l-Qurʾān, which ostensibly challenged the literary uniqueness of the Qurʾān although in recent years both the ascription and purpose of the text have been called into question.Footnote ⁴⁵ It is intriguing, however, that Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s important role in the early development of Islamic political and legal thought has received little attention in our sources of medieval Islam. More specifically, we find no direct reference in contemporary literature to the Risāla and its critical inquiry into Islamic law and polity. Nor do medieval Muslim scholars of law and philosophy seem to have engaged the minutiae of Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s recommendations put forth in the Risāla. It was due presumably to its innovative prose and literary value that Risāla fī ’l-Ṣaḥāba was preserved in its entirety in Aḥmad b. Abī Ṭāhir Ṭayfūr's (d. 280/893) Kitāb ’l-Manẓūm wa ’l-Manthūr.Footnote ⁴⁶

Unlike medieval scholars of Islam, modern scholars have taken much interest in Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ and his Risāla. On the whole, the Risāla is regarded as the earliest known treatment of theoretical foundations of the polity in Islam and a forerunner in Islamic political thought. Likewise, its sagacious diagnoses of complications in legal ruling and religio-political authority have been widely discussed by modern scholars. Nevertheless, for the most part, this terse epistle has been the object of only cursory examination in most surveys of Islamic legal and political thought. The following provides an overview of what appear to be the most influential views of modern scholars on the Risāla.

Joseph Schacht's pioneering research on Islamic law juxtaposes contemporary trends in Islamic law with the Risāla’s promotion of codification and legislation as well as its peculiar interpretation of the sunna as a legal concept.Footnote ⁴⁷ He also takes interest in Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s commonsensical, rather than technical, insights into the connection between legal interpretation and the proliferation of rulings on the one hand, and the application of raʾy or individual reasoning on the other.Footnote ⁴⁸ According to Schacht, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s proposal for codification sought to enhance administrative convenience.Footnote ⁴⁹ He finds the author's plea “for state control over law … in full accord with the tendencies prevailing at the very beginning of the ʿAbbāsid era. But this was a passing phase, and orthodox Islam refused to be drawn into too close a connexion with the state.”Footnote ⁵⁰ Schacht's work thus sheds light on the Risāla’s lack of success which may be explained in terms of its countering the dominant theory of the day—a theory that rapidly gained ground by recognizing the caliph's administrative, rather than legislative, rights within the purview of the received sunna.Footnote ⁵¹

While Schacht's discussion of Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ is prompted by his examination of the origins of Islamic law, Solomon Goitein focuses predominantly on the doctrinal and legal aspects of Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s recommendations, particularly the need to rein in millenarian and extremist dogmas among the fanatical troops; the extent of obedience to the caliph and its justification; and codification of the law.Footnote ⁵² Like most scholars, Goitein highlights the Iranian elements in Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s advice, most notably the exalted status of the caliph, something which is coterminous with his legal authority, and the emphasis placed on selection of the caliphal entourage.Footnote ⁵³ The proposal for legal reform, Goitein holds, was intended “to secure the good conduct of the state, which could not be achieved except by a properly functioning system of law.”Footnote ⁵⁴ Where Schacht emphasizes the borrowing of the idea of codification from ancient Persia, Goitein rejects the presumed connection, maintaining that it was “suggested to him [Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ] by an acute observation of the Muslim state and religion themselves”Footnote ⁵⁵ while certain ideas articulated in the Risāla were “quite contrary to the Sasanian tradition.”Footnote ⁵⁶ In disagreeing with Goitein, Shaul Shaked draws attention to a number of important parallels between the Risāla and the larger Sasanian background. However, Shaked's discussion does not include a key idea of the Risāla, namely, the proposal for legal codification.

Patricia Crone situates the Risāla in the Abbasids’ quest for a political ideology and their position as a priestly lineage vis-à-vis the Sunnī ʿulamāʾ. To that end, in Crone's view, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ displays a sense of urgency and offers “a truly imperial vision of Islam presented without a single reference to Kisrā, Buzurjmihr or anything Persian, and it was certainly one to which the caliph must have given serious thought.”Footnote ⁵⁷ In a subsequent work, Crone and Hinds situate the Risāla in the context of religious authority in the first two centuries of Islam, particularly with regard to the formation of the Prophetic sunna vis-à-vis sunna as received practice.Footnote ⁵⁸ They observe that “since Prophetic sunna was defined in the main by private scholars rather than by public servants, its rules were frequently and indeed intentionally unhelpful to the state.”Footnote ⁵⁹ “The scholarly conception of Prophetic sunna,” they conclude, “was thus a threat to caliphal authority from the moment of its appearance.”Footnote ⁶⁰ Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ and his Risāla, then, represent a crucial moment in Islamic history when the changing concept of sunna brought about drastic changes in ʿulamāʾ–caliphate relations. The present examination of Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s Risāla builds upon Crone and Hinds’ argument, showing that its innovative character and subsequent failure can be linked to its appearance at a time when such changes were in the making.

Said Amir Arjomand speculates that Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s Risāla was intended to facilitate the negotiations between al-Manṣūr and his uncles’ faction (Banū ʿAlī) after the former agreed to safe conduct for his rebellious uncle ʿAbd Allāh b. ʿAlī.Footnote ⁶¹ Arjomand highlights the “integrative” character of the Abbasid Revolution, which had informed the Risāla, and its attempt to tackle the palpable, rather than theoretical, problems of the Abbasid caliphate. My examination of certain passages in the Risāla will corroborate this conjecture while at the same time illustrating that Arjomand's speculation about the addressee's identity does not live up to textual scrutiny.

Joseph Lowry's thorough examination of the Risāla’s innovative approach to legal epistemology notes that Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s “account of the law … [is] driven by concerns about caliphal legitimacy and legal diversity.”Footnote ⁶² Focusing almost exclusively on two sections of Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s text where issues of obedience to the caliph, contradictory rulings, and legal interpretation are addressed, Lowry's investigation uncovers the inherent connection between legal interpretation and obedience. “Legitimacy is thus expressly connected,” writes Lowry, “with the sphere of law in which no interpretation is possible.”Footnote ⁶³ His analysis, however, does not provide many clues as to how contradictory rulings may have caused a crisis of political legitimacy, nor does it detail how Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s legal proposal could have resolved the crisis. While building upon Lowry's intuition about legitimacy and his discussion of legal epistemology, I will set out to demonstrate how Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s Risāla made a case for the crucial link between the law and legitimacy. This is a gap in scholarship, which the present inquiry attempts to fill.

Epistle Concerning the Entourage

Little is known of the circumstances that prompted the writing of the Risāla. It is widely believed that it was intended for the second Abbasid caliph Abū Jaʿfar al-Manṣūr.Footnote ⁶⁴ Several references in the text indicate that the Risāla sought to reconcile al-Manṣūr with his uncles’ party—i.e., Banū ʿAlī—after he had agreed to safe conduct (amān) for ʿAbd Allāh b. ʿAlī. The latter had made a bid for the caliphate in 134/752 and caused a brief mutiny by refusing to recognize his nephew, al-Manṣūr, as caliph. Contra this common interpretation, Arjomand has suggested that Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ wrote the text for al-Manṣūr's rebellious uncle, ʿAbd Allāh b. ʿAlī, sometime during or after the latter's rising.Footnote ⁶⁵ The Risāla, however, offers no clues at all to the effect that it might have been written for ʿAbd Allāh. On the contrary, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ makes an unequivocal reference to “matters of the youths of his [Caliph's] household and sons of his father and sons of ʿAlī and sons of al-ʿAbbās.”Footnote ⁶⁶ This textual reference provides clear evidence that the Risāla could not possibly have been addressed to ʿAbd Allāh. Had it been addressed to ʿAbd Allāh, the phrase “sons of ʿAlī” would have been redundant inasmuch as it renders the same meaning as the “sons of his father.” By the same token, the “sons of Muhammad” are not included in this segment in that they are referred to by the phrase “sons of his father,” hence making a clear reference to al-Manṣūr and his brothers. Nevertheless, the Risāla may have been composed as a document to be “used in the negotiations with Abū Jaʿfar later” as Arjomand has surmised.Footnote ⁶⁷ In all likelihood it was written at the behest of ʿIsa b. ʿAlī, who was Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s patron and ʿAbd Allāh's brother.Footnote ⁶⁸ To that end, the epistle was intended to reconcile the new caliph with his uncles after he had granted (or had signaled his consent to grant) ʿAbd Allāh the amān, further evidence suggesting that Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ had addressed himself to none other than al-Manṣūr. The foregoing passage goes on to assert that “among them [youths of the House of al-ʿAbbās] are men who will get crucial tasks done if they are so trusted, just as they will make means for other [important] tasks,”Footnote ⁶⁹ corroborating my inference that Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ addressed the Risāla to al-Manṣūr with the aim of reconciling the caliph with his uncles.Footnote ⁷⁰ Given this evidence, then, the opening address of the missive fits not ʿAbd Allāh, but rather al-Manṣūr:

There is nothing in this panegyric that matches ʿAbd Allāh's unfortunate situation. Likewise, a passage in a following paragraph cannot possibly fit anyone but al-Manṣūr:

In light of the foregoing textual evidence, it seems highly unlikely that the frequent use in the treatise of the honorific Amīr ’l-Muʾminīn (Commander of the Faithful) referred to anyone other than al-Manṣūr. To be sure, ʿAbd Allāh claimed that the first Abbasid caliph, al-Saffāḥ, had guaranteed succession as caliph for whomever would go to battle with the last Umayyad caliph Marwān II. No one but ʿAbd Allāh would take the risk, which he claimed had entitled him to the reward. Having thus learned about al-Saffāḥ’s death, ʿAbd Allāh proceeded to obtain an oath of allegiance from his own generals and troops, and according to some accounts from the populace in al-Shām.Footnote ⁷³ Nevertheless, already in 136/753 al-Saffāḥ had obtained an oath of allegiance for his older brother, Abū Jaʿfar. Later in the same year, upon the death of the first caliph, Abū Jaʿfar was immediately recognized as caliph.Footnote ⁷⁴ Furthermore, it seems all the more unlikely that Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ would venture to write counsel for a failed pretender who sought refuge in Baṣra while his brothers were working out terms of amān. It also sounds implausible that Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ would present a “common program of action”Footnote ⁷⁵ to a man who was, in effect, begging for his life. Under the circumstances, ʿAbd Allāh had no use for such a program and Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ would have been exceedingly remiss to address a fugitive, who was desperately seeking pardon, as “Commander of the Faithful,” the honorific he repeatedly uses in the Risāla.

In addition to clarifying the identity of the addressee, the foregoing background lends support to my hypothesis that the Risāla set out to resolve the question of legitimate rule, a question that loomed large with the third civil war and haunted the victorious Abbasids. In that regard, the Risāla represents the earliest known attempt at treating theoretical and practical dimensions of governance, all the while remaining fully mindful of the palpable problems that had plagued the Islamic polity since Muhammad's death in 632. A brief overview of the Risāla’s contents reveals its advocacy for reconceptualization of Islamic rule as well as for making urgent reforms to address pressing problems that haunted Muslim society. The following highlights major sections of the Risāla and their key ideas.Footnote ⁷⁶ I will continue by delving into pertinent passages where Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ grapples with the question of political legitimacy.

• (1) Opening address, praising the Commander of the Faithful and his bounty; making a case for the counsel to the caliph.

• (2) The army of Khurāsān, its effective control via official doctrine, the caliph's role in transparent formulation of religious dogma, and the need to suppress extremism.

• (3) Authority of the ruler, its relation to the divine law, and limits of rational interpretation.

• (4) Use and abuse of the military, regularity of their pay, and the importance of intelligence.

• (5) Matters of two major Iraqi cities (Kūfa and Baṣra) and their relation to the caliph's entourage.

• (6) Proliferation of legal rulings, its adverse effects, and the proposal to overcome the diversification of legal opinions via codification.

• (7) Effective control of Syria (al-Shām) and enlisting its people.

• (8) The significance of the caliphal entourage (al-Ṣaḥāba) and its careful selection.

• (9) Matters of the House of al-ʿAbbās (the caliph's household and that of his uncles) and their ability to undertake important tasks.

• (10) Management of the land and its taxation (kharāj), and equitable administration of public policy, especially with regard to tax collection.

• (11) Matters of Arabia and its different regions.

• (12) Conclusion, highlighting the unique role of the caliph and the elite in attending to public affairs and necessary reforms.

The Making of Legitimate Rule

Despite the Iranian provenance of certain concepts and ideas put forth in the Risāla, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s approach is elaborated in terms that are unmistakably Islamic. It is true that what we call “Islamic” or “Iranian” was in a state of flux, undergoing broad changes in the face of political and social upheaval. If, however, we focus on the key concepts brought up in the Risāla, we can trace them to some cultural reservoir that either originated from pre-Islamic Iranian civilization or began to circulate with the advent of Islam.Footnote ⁷⁷ There is no question, for example, that Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s use of Qurʾānic motifs and certain legal terms find their meanings with regard to an Islamic milieu, but they should be viewed against the cultural backdrop of the Late Antique world, one which allowed the author in his earlier works to undertake the adaptation of Iranian ideas of legitimate rule and social order. His contribution, then, lay in formulating a method capable of synthesizing ideas from both cultural domains as well as presenting them in a seamless whole that resonated with his intended audience. In keeping with the central question of this essay, the following discussion of certain passages of the Risāla will explain how this syncretism sought to tackle the crisis of political legitimacy.

In opening the Risāla, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ addresses the caliph with the Islamic honorific, Commander of the Faithful (Amīr ’l-Muʾminīn), and praises him for moral virtues reminiscent of the pious caliphs of the Rāshidūn lineage.Footnote ⁷⁸ The caliph is thus urged to follow the Qurʾān and to rely on the counsel of devout and knowledgeable scholars. In urging the caliph to base his judgments on solid evidence when they concern his subjects, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ places the utmost emphasis on moral righteousness, avoiding luxury, and upholding justice.Footnote ⁷⁹ The preamble concludes by citing the story of the Prophet Joseph, as narrated in the Qurʾān (12:101). Accordingly, as Joseph acknowledges God's grace for giving him the kingdom and teaching him how to interpret dreams, he beseeches God to let him die in submission (muslim) and to join the company of the righteous (ṣāliḥīn) in the afterlife. Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s use of the Qurʾānic motif is instructive. While on one level it is simply an expedient way of calling the caliph's attention to some important matters, the address avails itself of the hybrid discourse of knowledge that Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ and his fellow secretaries had been advancing for more than a half century. In truth, there are clear parallels between Joseph's recognition of God's grace in granting him kingship and the Persian idea of kingship, which is derived from the concepts of farr(ah) and Xwarrah (Avestan X^varǝnah, lit. glory, fortune) as indicated in various sources, including those translated by Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ himself.Footnote ⁸⁰ Accordingly, the gift of kingship indicates divine sanction, bestowing God's glory and investiture upon the king as may be viewed in ancient Iranian iconography (e.g., the winged sun disk and the ring).Footnote ⁸¹ This idea was ubiquitous in the Late Antique Near East. However, given Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ's role in the transmission of Sasanian court culture, we can be fairly confident that his use of the concept brought to bear the Iranian idea of farr(ah) which found convenient reference in the Qurʾānic parable of Yūsuf.Footnote ⁸² We learn, for example, from the aforementioned Letter of Tansar about a certain Tughūl Shāh whose deluded son “did not think that kingship came by act of God, but that it was peculiarly his own attribute.”Footnote ⁸³ Just as Yūsuf owed his kingship to the grace of God, so also al-Manṣūr's caliphate would be inconceivable without divine sanction.

God's grace and glory notwithstanding, the caliph cannot dispense of sound counsel. Having praised the caliph for his foresight and ability to take counsel, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ goes on to position himself as an expert (dhu ’l-raʾy, ṣāḥib ’l-raʾy) whose advice and timely reminder (tadhkīr) can aid the caliph to undertake necessary reforms.Footnote ⁸⁴ Already in his al-Adab ’l-Kabīr, composed some time before the Abbasid Revolution, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ had emphasized that the monarch should base his decisions on two types of expert opinion, “an opinion that bolsters his authority and the one that glorifies his rule in the people's eyes.”Footnote ⁸⁵ Likewise, he had urged fellow secretaries to refrain from dispensing whimsical advice, noting that “even your enemy accepts sound advice from you while the friend denies you the whim.”Footnote ⁸⁶ He had further warned that an advisor might find himself in an unfortunate position of having to serve an authority who does not have the subjects’ best interest in mind, in which case the advisor has two choices: he may go along with the authority, thus destroying the religion—i.e., the true foundation on which kingship rests; or he may choose to protect the subjects at the expense of destroying his own world—i.e., material success.Footnote ⁸⁷ Described in rather general terms, this background throws light on the palpable social dynamism of secretarial service in the early Islamic state administration. What is more, it helps us appreciate Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s frame of mind as he sets out to dispense advice intent on improving the political malaise in the aftermath of the Abbasid Revolution. The frequent use throughout the Risāla of various terms for reform and improvement (iṣlāḥ and similar terms deriving from the consonantal root ṣ.l.ḥ) speaks to the author's sense of urgency in ameliorating the affairs of state and society. Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ takes pains to emphasize the need for reform and his own role in facilitating it, which called for the writing of the Risāla in the first place:

It appears, then, that the author, given his connection to the pretender's—ʿAbd Allāh b. ʿAlī’s—family, must have been wary of the caliph's favorable reception of his good-faith advice; hence his efforts in making a case for expert opinion and its value for the much-needed reforms. Setting the stage as such, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ segues into discussing material matters of the polity.

Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ ’s counsel starts by raising several issues about the army of Khurāsān (al-jund min ahl Khurāsān), but his real aim is to alert the caliph about the use and abuse of religious doctrine and their impact on the armed forces. The army of Khurāsān is a substantial asset, the author asserts, given their moral virtues and dedication to the Abbasid cause. The army appears, however, to have harbored various elements with extremist propensities: “Surely in the army there is a mixed group whose leader is an extremist fanatic and the follower a confused sceptic.”Footnote ⁸⁹ This is what made the army unreliable and a grave liability despite its moral rectitude and military prowess. The person who ventures to use this group, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ holds, “is like the one who rides a lion afflicting observers with terror, but the rider [himself] is more terrified.”Footnote ⁹⁰ The author proposes that this looming problem may be defused by the caliph's authorizing a comprehensive document detailing what the troops are required to do and what they must refrain from doing; that is, a comprehensive guideline “with sufficient evidence and devoid of extremism.”Footnote ⁹¹ One might discern how the author advocates for central control of society by the government. As promising as the idea sounds, however, it only addresses part of the problem. While this proposal may contain extremism among the troops, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ relates, there are civilians in positions of leadership whose words carry much weight among the common people. According to Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ, this group preaches that “were the Commander of the Faithful to order the mountains to move, they would do so, and were he to require that the prayer be performed with one's back to the qibla, it would be done accordingly.”Footnote ⁹² What follows in the Risāla makes clear that this extremist view poses more than a doctrinal threat. For it has dire implications for the law as well as its interpretation and execution in society. If, that is to say, the caliph were endowed with such absolute authority that it carries over to the natural world and obligatory rituals, he would be virtually divine and therefore above the law. This would in turn facilitate arbitrary rule, rendering the law superfluous. And arbitrary rule is indeed the very political malady that Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s proposal sets out to overcome by making a case for consistent interpretation and execution of the law.

The most profound aspect of the Risāla lies in its unique approach to Islamic law. This approach was intent on attaining political legitimacy through proper articulation and execution of the law. In the Risāla and in his other writings, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ suggests that legitimacy of government lies in a strict adherence to justice and enforcement of the law. Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s testimony offers abundant insight into the state of the legal profession of his time. He seems to be taken aback by the astonishing diversification of legal opinions among the fuqahāʾ. The fuqahāʾ, regardless of the school of law to which they subscribe, regard it as their prerogative to exercise legal judgment by drawing upon the sacred sources of the law. Their enterprise aims to derive the law through the interpretation of the sacred sources, the Qurʾān and the sunna. However, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ finds it bizarre that every faqīh claims reliance on—presumably the same—sacred sources, and yet the fuqahāʾ’s rulings are so diverse. He calls into question the “contradictory [legal] rulings whose inconsistency has turned into a grave matter for human life [lit. “blood”], sexual relations, and property [rights], such that human life and sexual relations become permissible in Ḥīra while they are forbidden in Kūfa.”Footnote ⁹³ Such contradictory rulings, he states, are widespread throughout cities and towns, and even differ between quarters. Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ goes on to voice concern that judgments are made based purportedly on precedent (sunna), creating further precedent with questionable legal footing, often causing loss of life without any evidence or proof. He thus exposes the arbitrary character of legal practice in the late Umayyad and early Abbasid period. “And when he [the faqīh] is asked of such [arbitrary] rulings,” Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ relates, “he cannot afford to state that the loss of life [lit. “shedding of blood”] is based on [the precedent set in] the age of the Apostle of God, peace be upon him, or the leaders of guidance after him.”Footnote ⁹⁴ Upon further inquiry, it becomes clear that such precedents had been established by the Umayyad caliph ʿAbd al-Malik b. Marwān (r. 65–86/685–705) or by one of his governors, and the jurist admits that his opinion, according to Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ, relies neither on the Qurʾān nor on bona fide tradition, but on whims of political figures.Footnote ⁹⁵

Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s testimony uncovers an important phase in the transformation of sunna as a legal concept. As previous studies, particularly those by Schacht, and Crone and Hinds, have demonstrated, the Risāla brings to light a different usage of sunna as legal precedent within the ancient schools of Islamic law. However, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ engages this concept to expose the shaky foundation of received legal practice and then proceeds to offer his proposal. Arguably the most innovative segment of the Risāla, this proposal rests on a salient principle of law which the author had elaborated earlier in the text. This principle, which has been subject to opposing interpretations, states that one must not obey any human (lit. a creature or makhlūq), however exalted his status, if such obedience entails disobeying God.Footnote ⁹⁶ Straightforward though the principle is, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ vigorously warns against its misinterpretation. Whereas misguided zealots might use the principle to justify their disobedience to the caliph on the grounds that obedience to God must take precedence, another extreme viewpoint may venture to regard the caliph as a divine embodiment, hence rendering the principle impracticable. While the former group might use the principle to cause strife and rebellion, the latter group poses a more egregious extremism by uttering preposterous statements, for example, professing that the caliph can command the mountains to move or that he has the authority to change the direction of qibla.Footnote ⁹⁷ According to Shaked, the latter position which advocates absolute authority of the caliph betrays Iranian influence.Footnote ⁹⁸ We read in the Dīnkard that

Iranian influence is also discernable in the story of Rostam and Esfandiyār as narrated in Ferdowsī’s Shāh-nāmeh. Having heard the views of his brother, Pashūtan, who advises against acceding to the king's desire to kill Rostam, Esfandiyār retorts that he cannot afford to disobey the king, which would amount to disobeying God.Footnote ¹⁰⁰ The parallel between Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s interpretation of the legal formula (i.e., no obedience to a creature insofar as it entails disobedience of the Creator) and Ferdowsī’s depiction of Esfandiyār's attitude toward allegiance is too striking to be a coincidence. Since Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ has been credited with the translation of the Kh w adāynāma, Kitāb ’l-Tāj, and Ᾱʾīnnama, as well as the translation of a separate work, called the Sakisarān, which included the ancient fables of Rostam and Esfandiyār,Footnote ¹⁰¹ one cannot help notice the influence of the ancient texts on Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s approach to law and polity.Footnote ¹⁰²

Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s strong opposition to the outlandish position of the “exaggerationists” (ghulāt), despite its Sasanian provenance, lends further support to his creative syncretism. His position bears no resemblance to that of a Shuʿūbī zealot who would be bent on glorifying anything Iranian. He is more concerned, rather, with a viable solution to the crisis of legitimacy, a solution derived harmoniously from both Iranian and Islamic resources available to him at the time. Schacht is correct when he reads the passage as “the Caliph, whatever the flatterers may say, cannot interfere with the major duties of religion, and a wrongful order coming from him must not be obeyed.”Footnote ¹⁰³ Though Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ gives no clear indication of religious groups to which he alludes, one may envision that the Khawārij represent the former group and the Murjiʾa and Rāwandīya the latter.Footnote ¹⁰⁴ Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s interpretation of the principle, however, makes certain that obedience to the caliph does not extend to “obligatory rituals and punishments in which God does not permit human intervention,” such as prayer, fasting, and pilgrimage.Footnote ¹⁰⁵ The caliph may not introduce any change in these areas, nor could he suspend execution of the penal law (ḥudūd), nor permit what God has expressly forbidden. Such categories, as far as the author is concerned, constitute the unequivocal foundation of the law. Hence, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ proposes that the caliph's role should rest upon enforcing the avowed tenets of the law, which in turn guarantees the security and legitimacy of his rule. Here, too, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s magnification of the caliph's role in the upkeep of the law recalls the pre-Islamic Iranian idea of state and religion mutually reinforcing one another.Footnote ¹⁰⁶

Given his diagnosis of the confusing state of legal practice as well as contradictory approaches to the role of caliph, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s solution to the crisis of legitimacy aims to reinvent the institution of the caliphate with special regard to the law. Taking the center stage of political authority, the caliph would derive his legitimacy from the sacred sources of the law—i.e., the Qurʾān and the tradition (sunna). Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s exposition of the aforementioned principle (i.e., no obedience to a creature insofar as it entails disobedience of the Creator) requires that the caliph adhere to the foundations of the law—a steadfast adherence that can secure the legitimacy of his rule. He makes this clear when he stresses that execution of the law must be based on the Qurʾān and the tradition (imḍāʾ ’l-ḥudūd ʿalā ’l-kitāb wa ’l-sunna).Footnote ¹⁰⁷ These sources, according to Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ, constitute the solid foundation on which the caliph's authority rests.Footnote ¹⁰⁸ This interpretation does not introduce new sources of the law as such, but it does introduce a seemingly self-contained system within which legal sources may be interpreted in a more harmonious fashion.

If the caliph is to have no say in matters of obligatory rituals and punishments, what then are the areas in which he may expect obedience? Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s response leaves no doubt that the caliph may exercise his personal judgment (raʾy), executive power (tadbīr), and authority (amr) in seven areas that by their nature fall under his jurisdiction. These areas include (i) matters of war and security; (ii) accumulation and distribution of government resources; (iii) appointment to, and removal from, government offices; (iv) issuing instructions where legal precedent is lacking; (v) execution of punishments (ḥudūd) and rulings (aḥkām) in accord with the Qurʾān and the Sunna; (vi) fighting enemies and concluding truces; and (vii) collection of taxes (e.g., zakāt and kharāj) and distribution of proceeds among eligible Muslims.Footnote ¹⁰⁹ Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ stresses the caliph's inalienable rights and privileges with regard to these matters such that “he who disobeys the Imam or disappoints him,” he warns, “has just brought destruction upon himself.”Footnote ¹¹⁰

Whereas several areas in the foregoing list had always been considered as the caliph's prerogative—including appointment to, or removal from, office; war and security; waging war and concluding truce—Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ now recognizes the caliph as the sole interpreter of the divine law who can exercise his personal judgment where legal precedent is lacking. The first four caliphs after the Prophet exercised control over all the above areas. There is no consensus as to the extent to which the post-Rāshidūn caliphs exercised personal judgment in religious and legal matters.Footnote ¹¹¹ However, it appears that the predominant theory of the day did not recognize the caliph's authority in matters of law.Footnote ¹¹² Whatever the case may be, the Risāla gives us clear indications that the fuqahāʾ were already in the forefront of legal interpretation. Working against this trend, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ aims to reunite the caliph with the historical function of the caliphate at the expense of the fuqahāʾ. This effort can hardly be overstated. In light of the indisputable role of the law in securing the legitimacy of government and taking into account the counterproductive diversification of legal rulings, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s resolution hinges on consolidating two interdependent aspects of the law: legal interpretation and execution. Since consistent interpretation and execution of the law imbues subjects with a sense of justice, contradictory laws run counter to their uniform and equitable execution, thereby undermining not only the legitimacy of the government, but the utility of the laws as well. Contradictory laws can amount to having no laws at all. It would appear, then, that in Islamic law anything goes, for jurists had such wide latitude in their interpretations that, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ alleges, they could derive whatever laws they desired regardless of precedent.

To mend this dysfunctional state of the law, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ proposes that the caliph consider consolidating laws into a comprehensive corpus (kitāb^an jāmi‘^an). To do so, the caliph would issue an order to collect all divergent rulings along with their supporting precedent (sunna) and analogy (qiyās), so that he could then exercise his judgment (raʾy) on each case as inspired by God.Footnote ¹¹³ Remarkably, as this passage suggests, the caliph's judgment enjoys divine inspiration, thus providing the comprehensive legal code with divine sanction, which may be noted as another instance of Iranian influence and which reinforces the author's syncretic approach.Footnote ¹¹⁴ We must bear in mind, however, that the idea of divine inspiration was not limited to pre-Islamic Iranian thought. Indeed, certain interpretations within the fledgling Muslim community, such as those of the proto-Shīʿa, subscribed to the notion that the Imam was empowered by divine inspiration.Footnote ¹¹⁵ Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s inclusion of divine inspiration as such uncovers his creative syncretism. In any case, the comprehensive legal corpus would encompass all divergent cases rendered into a singular, more consistent body, which the judges (quḍāt) would be required to follow in their rulings.Footnote ¹¹⁶ Future caliphs may revise the corpus as necessary. Commonly referred to as codification, such legal reforms promote uniformity and consistency with the aim of removing contradictory laws.Footnote ¹¹⁷

Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s proposal is twofold. To begin with, he argues that no one is more worthy than the caliph to exercise personal judgment (raʾy). This is where he goes against the grain as he displays a degree of disregard for the ranks of the fuqahāʾ who, of course, considered it their own privilege to exercise personal judgment where precedent was lacking.Footnote ¹¹⁸ The jurists, as Lowry points out, “granted themselves the right of authoritative interpretation, in their capacity as the sole authorized practitioners of legal interpretation (ijtihād).”Footnote ¹¹⁹ Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s solution thus diverges from current practice by not only suggesting that the caliph, rather than the faqīh, exercise exclusive legal judgment, but also by prescribing legal codification in an effort to eliminate all contradictory and inconsistent laws. Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s proposal for codification would lead him on a course divergent from that of virtually all Muslim jurists of his time as well as those who would follow. Muslim legal scholars have invariably adopted an individualistic, laissez-faire approach that places them in a cardinal position as interpreters of the divine law. Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s proposal seeks to overcome the diversification of legal opinions, largely an outcome of individualistic legal interpretation. His approach would buttress the central government's legal authority vis-à-vis the private jurists. In doing so, the government's legitimacy might also be enhanced by curbing contradictory laws and containing the fuqahāʾ’s inconsistent rulings and practices. Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s recommendation echoes a passage in ʿAhd Ardashīr (Testament of Ardashīr, whose translation is also attributed to Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ) where the king is urged to keep the (Zoroastrian) clergy at bay. It would be the king's weakness, the Testament reminds us, not to subject the clergy to strict control, without which the latter and subjects might venture to undermine the king and his successors.Footnote ¹²⁰ Despite similarities, however, the Muslim fuqahāʾ played a different role than did the Zoroastrian mobeds in the Sasanian Empire: the fuqahāʾ would refuse to relinquish their legal authority over interpreting the law.Footnote ¹²¹ Schacht is right when he writes, “The absolute power which the caliphs, and later governors, sultans, &c., exercised over the appointment and dismissal of the ḳāḍīs could not replace their lack of control over the law itself.”Footnote ¹²² The government–jurist tension, then, implies that legal codification with central governmental oversight would be untenable were every jurist to exercise his authority in interpreting what counts as legitimate law. Intent on promoting a notion of universal law, uniformly applicable across the empire, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ leaves no room for individualistic interpretation or discriminatory practices. His proposed model advocates an abstract conception of the law, embodied in, and upheld by, the state and its various institutions. This setting, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ hopes, would bring an end to both arbitrary rule and the crisis of legitimacy by restoring subjects’ sense of justice through uniform and consistent interpretation and execution of the law.

Though arguably the most important factor in the erosion of political legitimacy, inconsistency in legal interpretation and rulings was not the only culprit for early Islamic political and social ills. The affairs of the less-than-suitable ṣaḥāba (entourage) of the caliph were equally important, hence the apt title of the epistle and the forthright treatment of the caliphal entourage therein. The caliph's retinue is portrayed in the missive as the “ornament of his gathering, voice of his subjects, aids for his decision, proper ranks [to receive] his honors, and the elite distinct from his commoners.”Footnote ¹²³ These characteristics are too unequivocal to be overlooked. They represent and underscore the critical links between the caliph and his subjects, links that could assure or at least enhance legitimacy of his rule. Yet Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ laments what is to him the woefully degenerate state of the caliphal entourage. His characterization of the degenerate entourage and its impact on caliphal legitimacy are both candid and alarming. “Before the caliphate of the Commander of the Faithful [al-Manṣūr],” he suggests,

He goes on to reminisce that when the first Abbasid caliph, Abu ’l-ʿAbbās al-Saffāḥ, visited Baṣra, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ was among the company of nobility and community leaders who welcomed the caliph. On that occasion he learned that some of the nobles had refused to attend the reception while others came and left—without making an apology—lest they be associated with the lowly status of the caliph's entourage.Footnote ¹²⁵ The implications of such disdain for the caliphal retinue were serious. The Abbasid Revolution, having mustered a wide array of supporters from among a variety of ethnic and religious backgrounds, caused a rapid and substantial shift in the social strata, so much so that many from the lower classes found themselves within the caliph's entourage. As the above quote and al-Saffāḥ’s visit to Baṣra show, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ finds this rapid change to be damaging to the caliphate's legitimacy in that, from his vantage point, it placed the rabble and the incompetent in positions of power. Citing a verse from a poem by the pre-Islamic Arab poet al-Afwah ’l-Awdī (d. ca. 570), he draws the caliph's attention to the need for a competent leader to bring to a close the confused state of the populace: “the people so scattered are not good without a leader, but no leader will emerge so long as the ignorant from among them lead.”Footnote ¹²⁶

It is beside the point that Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ finds this situation a major source of injustice. What is germane is that his idea of social hierarchy is informed by a combination of noble birth and meritocracy. Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s characterization of the ṣaḥāba exposes not only the astoundingly diverse group that comprised the caliphal entourage, but, more importantly, it betrays Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s disposition toward social hierarchy. The woeful state of the caliphal entourage, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ asserts, has led to injustice (maẓālim). The people have wondered, he relates, at how certain individuals have managed to enter the high ranks of the ṣaḥāba:

In short, as far as Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ is concerned, the ṣaḥāba enjoy no cultural refinement and have no knowledge of religion, and yet they have managed to surpass the descendants of the Emigrants (al-Muhājirīn) and the Helpers (al-Anṣār), as well as Banū Hāshim and other Quraysh clans, merely by currying favor with a chamberlain or a scribe.Footnote ¹²⁸ Remarkably, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ makes his case concerning the ṣaḥāba in terms that resonate with his Arab patrons and superiors, for instance, by reminding the reader of the high status of Banū Hāshim, the Emigrants, the Helpers, and reputable religious scholars, and also by stressing certain qualification such as noble birth, religious knowledge, and moral rectitude.

The Risāla is invaluable in unraveling historical details that are usually ignored or glossed over in Islamic histories and chronicles. The aforementioned passage betrays a peculiar aspect of the Abbasid Revolution to which little attention is paid in primary and secondary sources of early Islam. Therein Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ highlights the ways in which the advent of Islam in general, and the Abbasid Revolution in particular, facilitated social mobility to such a degree that individuals with no claim to nobility or knowledge could reap rewards simply by mingling with the right crowd or befriending a person of elevated status. Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s portrayal notwithstanding, it is important to differentiate between two groups in the caliphal entourage. Although Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ makes no such distinction in his narrative, he clearly targets two separate groups who enjoyed upward social mobility as a result of the recent political and social changes: first, the entourage selected from among statesmen, secretaries and so on under the Umayyads; second, the entourage that entered the rank and file of the military and the state apparatus through the Abbasid Revolution, including, for example, those who visited Baṣra in the company of al-Saffāḥ. It is quite fascinating that Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ writes so confidently about the first group even though he clearly belongs to the same group himself—namely, secretaries that entered state positions through patronage; yet he evidently distinguishes himself from that crowd thanks to the refinement (adab) and lineage (nasab) which he enjoyed and which they allegedly lacked. The second group, on the other hand, came to power through different circumstances, but its members appeared to Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ as opportunists and incompetent, much like the first group. In any case, our author once again goes against the grain, at his own peril, by voicing concern about unintended consequences of the unprecedented sociopolitical mobility, which in effect brought together a motley entourage comprised of political chameleons and disenfranchised subjects who had been alienated by the first tide of the Arab conquests.

Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ clearly deems the changing milieu inimical to rehabilitating the legitimacy of the Islamic government and enhancing its functions. Prior to writing the Risāla, he had taken notice of how the rascals would secure privileged places for themselves at court by singing the governor's praises.Footnote ¹²⁹ This problem seems to have been exacerbated by the rise to power of the new ruling class. Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s counsel regarding the caliph's entourage seeks to focus on the crisis of legitimacy by proposing to reform the affairs of the ṣaḥāba. To begin with, he suggests that the caliph keep in mind certain criteria when selecting members of his entourage. The criteria to be applied include noble status, moral rectitude, and expertise.Footnote ¹³⁰ By emphasizing these criteria Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ reinforces the link between the ṣaḥāba and political legitimacy because, he advises, if selected properly in accordance with the criteria, the ṣaḥāba can strengthen state–subject relations. That is to say, if the ṣaḥāba are the “voice of the subjects,” as Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ declares, then they can and should reinvigorate the caliph's right to rule—for example, by promoting administration of justice, by increasing the efficiency of his government, and by curbing corruption and moral decay.

As I have demonstrated throughout this essay, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s solution to the problem of political legitimacy, which seems to have fallen on deaf ears, addresses legal protection of subjects as well as public perception of the government and its moral foundation, while at the same time remaining faithful to both Islamic and ancient Iranian ideals. His Risāla fī ’l-Ṣaḥāba reflects a syncretic process of knowledge production that integrated ancient and Islamic political ideas into a seamless whole. This finding radically disagrees with the notion that Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s role, in contrast to his predecessor Sālim, was “rather more that of a transmitter than of an innovative writer.”Footnote ¹³¹ A more accurate depiction of Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s and state secretaries’ literary production is provided by Schoeler, who contrasts them with the “traditional scholars [who] can consequently best be characterised as transmitters, whereas the state secretaries of Persian origin are men of letters or writers.”Footnote ¹³² As indicated earlier, prior to authoring the Risāla, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ had made a case for the primacy of ancient knowledge and the necessity of its translation. He had undertaken both translation of ancient texts and composition of several tracts of special import. Taken as a whole, his oeuvre served to facilitate a creative union of Islamic teachings and pre-Islamic wisdom, thereby promoting a continuity of human knowledge and historical experience. Faithful as his approach was to the tenets of Islam, it relied heavily on a universal conception of religion, sunna, and justice, thereby transcending the dogmatic boundaries of religions, including Islam, Zoroastrianism, and Manichaeism. His approach to religion, as Cooperson points out, was coached “in terms vague enough to make sense from any faith-based point of view.”Footnote ¹³³ This pivotal aspect of Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s attempt to effect change in the Islamic political system and legal practice can help us come to grips with his solution to the crisis of legitimacy.

Ironically, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s failure stemmed precisely from his highly innovative and perceptive views on law, religion, and polity. His proposal, had Abū Jaʿfar al-Manṣūr implemented it, would have had profound and far-reaching outcomes for the caliphate and Islamic law. As much as his recommendations would have enhanced the caliph's authority, they would at the same time have jeopardized the caliph's symbiotic relationship with the fuqahāʾ. Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ seems to have hoped that his proposal would be received favorably by the caliph and doctors of law alike inasmuch as it sought to strengthen the legitimacy of government, enhance the security of economic activities, bring transparency to the law, and promote prosperity in the land. Nevertheless, those who actually represented Islamic law—i.e., the fuqahāʾ—held a different opinion; not because Islam as a religion favors one particular solution over another, but rather because its spokesmen in legal matters relied on a method of producing legal knowledge that enhanced their own authority as well as promoted their vision of social order. This appears to have been the Achilles heel of Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s proposal. The Risāla’s integrative approach foreclosed its investment in Islamic/Arabian culture, which in retrospect might have contributed to its lack of favorable acceptance by the caliph and influential ʿulamāʾ, for Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ ventured to take up an issue that was incontrovertible as far as the latter were concerned. He thus displayed a degree of presumptuousness in regard to Islamic law: he thought he could formulate a separation of legal knowledge from its producers, i.e., fuqahāʾ, and in his conviction he neglected the fact that traditionally the Umayyad and Abbasid caliphs, very much unlike the Rāshidūn, played little role in the production of legal knowledge. Regardless of the caliphs’ religious authority and their meddling in the affairs of law and its experts, they remained dependent on the fuqahāʾ for interpretation of legal sources.