under which Alfarabi lived ruled over subjects from a vast number of such Ummas, and it was common among Alfarabi’s contemporaries to argue about the relative merits of one or another of them. I make no claim to originality here, but a brief summary of these debates, as known through primary and secondary sources, can shed some light on the distinctiveness and historical significance of Alfarabi’s approach to the Umma.
The vast seventh-century conquests that brought the Islamic world into being entailed not only the triumph of Muslims over infidels, but also the victory of Arabs over non-Arabs. This inevitably gave rise to ethnic pride among the conquering Arabs, and ethnic resentment among the conquered peoples (Norris, 34). A band of desert nomads whom Persians, Romans, and Byzantines had once despised as not even worth conquering suddenly emerged as the master of vast territories that those empires had once ruled. However, the decline of the Arabs was almost as rapid as their rise. While the Umayyad dynasty (661–750) was indeed dominated by Arabs, the Abbasid dynasty that overthrew it drew its core support from the Persian region of Khorasan. By the middle of the ninth century, the Abbasid Caliphs had gradually begun to cede control over the army and the treasury to Turkish and Daylami soldiers.27 This lengthy process culminated in the seizure of power by the Daylamis in 951, a year after Alfarabi’s death, thus establishing the Buyid dynasty.
It is not difficult to imagine, on the basis of these well-known historical facts, that the early centuries of Islam were rife with ethnic tensions, as rival Ummas competed for cultural and social status within the empire as well as for royal power and patronage. The Shu‘ūbiyya movement, powerful during the eighth and ninth centuries, represented the reaction of the non-Arabs against the Arabs. The movement’s name is derived from Qur’ān 49.13, the only verse containing the root sh-‘-b.28 It advanced numerous arguments for Persian equality and, in some cases, Arab inferiority. Scholars have arrived at various opinions about the scope and aims of this movement, which seems to have found some expression in the political, literary, and religious spheres.29 Unfortunately, none of the original Shu‘ūbiyya tracts survive, so the nature of the movement can be reconstructed only through the works of authors who opposed it (Enderwitz, 515). These texts present many of the disputes as serious and others as charmingly frivolous.30 Common themes included rhetorical skill, dexterity with arms, ancient lineage, the antiquity of their civilization, and prophecy, with each group, and especially Persians and Arabs, proclaiming its superiority to its neighbors. These debates did not always take place on a high intellectual level: it does not behoove us, let alone Alfarabi, to discuss whether ancient Arabs ate lizards, or Persians invented the game of chess.31 Yet even the most comical charges and countercharges are indicative of genuine tension and jealousy.32 The charged atmosphere of ethnic quarrels under which Alfarabi wrote is surely relevant to understanding his work.
The acrimony of these debates finds forceful expression in the pages of al-Jāḥiẓ (d. 869), one of the founders of classical Arabic prose and a leading opponent of the Shu‘ūbiyya movement. Al-Jāḥiẓ wrote an interesting work titled “On the Virtues of the Turks.”33 Addressed to a Turkish general who held a high position in the Abbasid court, it attempts to defend the Abbasid policy of employing Turkish soldiers. The addressee has just been exposed to a long and unpleasant harangue by an Abbasid partisan who boasts about the military virtues of the Khorasanis and other founders of the Abbasid dynasty while ignoring the virtues of the Turks (al-Jāḥiẓ 1988, 177–87). The unnamed orator presents the Abbasids as the true heirs to the Arabs, devising some dubious genealogies to prove it (183–84). He takes special delight in the Khorasanis’ military valor and capacity to kill in any number of gruesome ways (185–86).
Al-Jāḥiẓ himself finally steps in, invoking the mercy of God and rebuking the general’s adversary for promoting needless disunity among peoples, a fault all too common among the zealots of the era (al-Jāḥiẓ 1988, 187, cf. 217). If al-Jāḥiẓ were to respond in kind with exaggerated praise of the Turks, he would fall into the same pernicious tendencies as his adversaries. His method is designed to conceal his preferences for one people over another, without depriving his readers of their capacity to develop such a preference for themselves, assuming that they are willing to engage in a long and careful consideration of the relative merits of various peoples (187–88).
Al-Jāḥiẓ does not hesitate to invoke religious arguments against excessive national pride. He argues that national differences, and in fact any kind of human difference whatsoever, must ultimately be traced to God. As al-Jāḥiẓ explains, just as God has the power to create humans male, female, or hermaphrodite, so he has the power to attach them to whatever nation he so pleases. He can create us without parents, as He did Adam and Jesus, and teach us whatever language He pleases: although Ismātīl was not even born an Arab, God granted him the ability to speak clear Arabic without any instruction, and endowed him with the nature34 of Arabs in its loftiest form (al-Jāḥiẓ 1988, 188).35 He has proclaimed Abraham the true father of all believers (cf. Qur’ān 22.78), and Muhammad’s wives their mothers (cf. Qur’ān 33.6), even though the vast majority of Muslims are not literally their descendants. Furthermore, God teaches the believers of all nations36 the language of paradise as soon as they enter (al-Jāḥiẓ 1988, 188–89), a clear indication that the righteous from all peoples are equal in God’s eyes. By reminding his readers of the overwhelming power of God, al-Jāḥiẓ hopes to dissuade them from extravagant boasting about merely human genealogies and qualities. As al-Jāḥiẓ’s own allusions indicate, such equanimity seems to have some basis in the Qur’ān, in which God is presented as the creator of all peoples alike.37
Al-Jāḥiẓ also criticizes national pride from a human point of view, arguing that nations are bound to have different but often complementary virtues and vices. Not even God will imbue an entire nation with a high degree of skill in all areas of human endeavor. The limited human energy and passion of a given people must inevitably be directed toward the cultivation of certain skills at the expense of others (al-Jāḥiẓ 1988, 206). Thus the Greeks excel in wisdom and invention, but are deficient as merchants and artisans (206–7); the Chinese excel in crafts, but not in wisdom (207); the Arabs are brave warriors, instinctive trackers, and eloquent speakers, but generally poor craftsman (207–8); the Turks are outstanding warriors and raiders, but unfamiliar with the civilized arts (208); the Persians, finally, are skilled in government, an ability inherited from their Sassanian ancestors (206, 208).38 Much of the rest of the essay is devoted to recounting Turkish prowess in war (192 ff., 209 ff.). While flattering the addressee, a Turkish military commander, al-Jāḥiẓ also keeps a certain distance from him, attributing much of his praise of the Turks to third parties. Al-Jāḥiẓ transcribes in the speeches of others the partisan, ethnic zeal that was so prevalent in his epoch, but in his own remarks he adopts a far more measured tone. He strongly implies that the Caliph ought to employ not only Turks, but other peoples in their respective capacities as well. Couldn’t Greek inventors and Chinese craftsmen also figure in his military plans? Perhaps it is up to the Caliph himself to decide which nation’s skills ought to be preferred for a given task at a given moment. In doing so, he would still have to distinguish between the general characteristics of a nation and the varied qualities of the individuals that compose it. Al-Jāḥiẓ observes that none of the qualities and skills he mentions characterize every individual within that people, even if they do predominate among the people as a whole (209).
As a critic of the Shu‘ūbiyya, al-Jāḥiẓ is considerably fairer than the partisans whom he quotes. He appears to have a genuine sympathy and appreciation for all peoples. Yet by attaching certain qualities and skills to certain nations, he indulges in what we might call “national stereotyping” in a way Alfarabi does not. His emphasis on the role of divine will and power in the formation of peoples also finds no parallel in Alfarabi, for whom the growth of Ummas may be attributed entirely to human and natural causes.
