The Social and Economic Policies of Nūr al-Dīn (1146–1174): The Sultan of Syria

The Institute of Asian and African StudiesThe Max Schloessinger Memorial Foundation

Offprint from

JERUSALEM STUDIES INARABIC AND ISLAM

35(2008)

Yaacov Lev

The jihad of sultan Nur al-Dın of Syria(1146–1174): history and discourse

THE HEBREW UNIVERSITY OF JERUSALEMTHE FACULTY OF HUMANITIES

JSAI 35 (2008)

THE JIHAD OF SULTAN NUR AL-DIN OFSYRIA (1146–1174): HISTORY AND DISCOURSE ∗

Yaacov LevBar Ilan University

Contents

1 Introduction 228

2 Historians and historiography 2332.1 Ibn ↪Asakir (1105–1176) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2332.2 Ibn al-Qalanisı (d. 1160) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2362.3 Ibn al-Athır (1160–1233) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 238

3 The history of Nur al-Dın’s family 2403.1 Qasim al-Dawla Aq Sunqur (1087–1094) . . . . . . . . . . 2403.2 ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı (1122–1146) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 243

4 Nur al-Dın the sultan of Syria 2514.1 The young prince Nur al-Dın . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2514.2 Expansionism and state building . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 252

5 Jihad and military history 2585.1 Muslim-Frankish warfare . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2585.2 Nur al-Dın’s military resources . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2615.3 Nur al-Dın’s wars with the Franks . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264

6 Epigraphy and history 269

∗An early version of this paper was presented at the Islamic Medieval Colloquiumof Israel held at Bar Ilan University on 13 June 2008. I would like to thank the orga-nizers Deborah G. Tor and Nimrod Hurvitz and the participants Miriam Frenkel,Yehoshua Frenkel, Housni al-Khateeb Shehada, Livnat Holtzman, Joseph Drory,Daniella Talmon-Heller, and Leigh N. Chipman for their feedback and criticism.Gratitude is also due to JSAI ’s anonymous reviewer for his comments, corrections,and thoughtful remarks.

227

228 Yaacov Lev

7 Jihad and twelfth-century Muslimsociety 274

8 Conclusions 277

1 Introduction

The Crusades cast a long shadow on the Muslim Eastern Mediterraneanof the first half of the twelfth century. By 1146, when Nur al-Dınascended to power in Aleppo, the Frankish presence in the EasternMediterranean was well established, and warfare in the region was en-demic. The scholarly discussion of the Muslim response to the Crusadesis dominated by the study of the evolution of the spirit of jihad in Syria,and its appearance in literary sources and epigraphic evidence. For ex-ample, Nikita Elisseeff, in his monumental three-volume biography ofNur al-Dın, depicts him as a ruler who adopted and conducted a pol-icy of jihad that involved two complementary elements: military jihadagainst the Franks, and religious jihad aimed at the revival of Sunnı Is-lam. Elisseeff’s twofold characterization of Nur al-Dın’s jihad has beenwholeheartedly adopted by Yasser Tabbaa. Other scholars have followedsuit. Emmanuel Sivan, for example, sets forth to study the evolution ofthe “grand mouvement du gihad contre les Croises.” He points out thatthe image of ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı, Nur al-Dın’s father as a warrior ofthe holy war was a back-projection, if not invention, of late thirteenth-century historians. Focusing on Nur al-Dın, Sivan views his reign asconductive to the full development of the ideology of jihad, and contendsthat Nur al-Dın adopted jihad as a state ideology. Carole Hillenbrandconcurs partially with these findings, viewing the Muslim response to theCrusades as evolving slowly during the first half of the twelfth century.1

The underlying difficulty in the study of Muslim holy war, in thecontext of twelfth-century Syria, is that we have only a vague idea of thecontemporary perceptions of jihad, and what they meant when referringto it and invoking its spirit. The concept of jihad has a long history,going back to the Qur↩an, and the legal theory concerning jihad evolvedgradually. Eventually, jihad came to be considered the collective dutyof the Muslim community, a duty that became incumbent upon the in-dividual when Muslim territory was under attack. In the writings of thescholars, military jihad was considered inferior to the inner spiritual jihad

1Elisseeff, Nur al-Dın, vol. 3, pp. 703–704; Tabbaa, “Monuments with a message,”p. 223; Sivan, L’Islam et la Croisade, pp. 44, 61–65; Hillenbrand, The Crusades, pp.108–110.

The jihad of Sultan Nur al-Dın 229

fought against evil temptations.2 A unique insight into Muslim thinkingabout jihad, contemporary with the First Crusade, can be gleaned fromthe extracts of ↪Alı b. T. ahir al-Sulamı’s Kitab al-jihad, which have beenpublished and translated into French by Sivan. Al-Sulamı (1039-1106)was a Shafi↪ı Damascene jurist who, in 1105, at the mosque of BaytLahiya, a suburb of Damascus, and at the Umayyad mosque, recitedchapters of his book on jihad. Al-Sulamı set the First Crusade withina broader historical context of wars waged by Christians on Muslimsin Sicily and Spain. Quoting the great sage al-Ghazalı (d. 1111), heexplained the distinction between jihad as a collective and an individ-ual duty. However, he unequivocally stated that in his own time, jihadwas incumbent upon the rulers and population alike. His preaching wasmostly, if not entirely, ignored by both the rulers and population.3

Other twelfth-century expositions of jihad can be found in the po-etry of court poets. These clearly delineated the goals for Nur al-Dın’sjihad : the conquest of Jerusalem and the coastal plain (sah. il, mean-ing the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem, the county of Tripoli and, byextension, also the principality of Antioch). The goals of Nur al-Dın’sjihad were also clear to some thirteenth-century historians. Sivan hasdrawn attention to Sibt. b. al-Jawzı’s (1185–1256) statement that Nural-Dın intended to conquer Jerusalem and the sah. il, and that the con-quest of Damascus was instrumental to that aim.4 More than reflectingtwelfth-century realities, Sibt. b. al-Jawzı’s statement epitomizes the ret-rospective evaluation of Nur al-Dın’s reign.

The most explicit twelfth-century statement about the political goalsof jihad comes from the early years of Saladin’s rule in Egypt. It appearsin a letter written to the caliph in 1174, shortly after Nur al-Dın’s death,and lists Saladin’s immediate and future plans. The letter states thatthe re-conquest of Jerusalem is impossible due to the political disarrayin Syria in the wake of Nur al-Dın’s death, and refers to the Saladin’sdifficulties in dispatching armies from Egypt to fight the Franks in Pales-tine. Jerusalem, the letter continues, has no one to fight for her cause,

2For attempts to understand the Qur↩anic meanings of jihad without resortingto exegeses, see Firestone, Jihad , ch. 4; Landau-Tasseron, “Jihad,” pp. 35–43. Forthe distinction between greater and lesser jihad, see Cook, Understanding Jihad, ch.2. The literature dealing with the legal aspects of jihad is vast. See, for example,Mottahedeh and al-Sayyid, “The idea of the Jihad,” pp. 23–31.

3Emmanuel Sivan, “La genese de la contre-croisade,” pp. 207–8, 209, 211, 213–4. For an English translation of short extracts from al-Sulamı’s book on jihad, seeChristie, “Religious campaign,” pp. 57–75. In 492/1099, the qad. ı of Damascus failedto galvanize the ruling circles in Baghdad to respond to the conquest of Jerusalem.See Mouton, Damas, p. 59.

4Sibt. b. al-Jawzı, Mir ↩at al-zaman, vol. 8, pt. 1, p. 221; Sivan, L’Islam et laCroisade, p. 62.

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and Saladin commits himself to be her champion (qirn).5 This was,quite clearly, a remote goal, and one cannot escape the impression thatit served as a justification for a more immediate attempt to seize Syria.In other words, the way to Jerusalem went through Damascus. On theother hand, it can be argued that Saladin’s reference to Jerusalem tes-tifies to the fact that invoking jihad had become in vogue during Nural-Dın’s reign and that Saladin was only following the mood of the time.

No less significant is the presentation of Saladin as a jihad fighter,which gives an indication of the scope of the definition of holy war. Thefirst thing that strikes the reader is the pride that Saladin takes in hisand his family members’ personal involvement in waging jihad againstthe unbelievers (kuffar). The letter specifies the defense of Damiettain 1169 against the combined attack launched by the Byzantines andthe Kingdom of Jerusalem, and refers to raids on the territories heldby the Franks (bilad al-kuffar), the killing and capture of Franks, andthe re-conquest of forts held by them.6 Clearly, any defensive or offen-sive military action against the Franks fell under the category of jihad.The unavoidable conclusion is that in twelfth-century Syrian politicalparlance, the term jihad encompassed every sort of engagement foughtagainst the Franks. Any Muslim leader who confronted the Franks couldclaim the title of a warrior of the holy war (mujahid, murabit.). The titlemerely reflected actions, not a political or ideological commitment toholy war. I suggest that the epigraphic evidence studied by Hillenbrandsupports this notion. For example, references to jihad do appear in in-scriptions pertinent to Turkish emirs and rulers of Syria during the firsthalf of the twelfth century, and Hillenbrand writes about awakenings ofjihad awareness amongst the rulers of Syria. She concludes by stating:“It is a clear indication that Nur al-Dın was building on foundationswhich had already been laid down two decades earlier.”7 In my opinion,the titles referring to jihad simply reflect the fact that in Syria wars withthe Franks were frequent, that Muslim rulers fought the Franks regularly,and that the record of these wars is mirrored by the epigraphic evidence.

When set within a wider historical context, the lack of response toal-Sulamı’s call for jihad is, perhaps, not surprising. Muslim states quitefrequently shirked the duty to wage jihad even when Muslim territorieswere conquered by Christian powers. This is an important point worthyof a short digression. In 354/965, for example, the conquest of Mas.ıs.aand T. arsus by the Byzantines triggered no ↪Abbası military responsesince the state was entangled in an internal power struggle between the

5Abu Shama, Kitab al-rawd. atayn, vol. 2, pp. 365, 366.6Abu Shama, Kitab al-rawd. atayn, vol. 2, pp. 360, 361.7See Hillenbrand, “Jihad propaganda,” pp. 68, 69.


caliph and the Buyid sultan. A possible link between the Byzantineexpansion and the appearance, in 356/967, of 5,000 fighters of the holywar from Khurasan in Aleppo, remains unclear. The Khurasanı contin-gent reflects a wider socio-political phenomenon that has been discussedby Deborah G. Tor, namely a shift that took place in the involvementin jihad from the state to the grassroots level. It also demonstratesthe limits of the popular response to Byzantine expansion in Syria. Al-though the Khurasanı fighters, supported by local volunteers, attackedthe Byzantines, they were no match for the Byzantine army and failed tostop the Byzantine offensive.8 In 362/972–973, the Byzantine conquestof Nas.ıbın and the offensive against the Diyar Rabı↪a region brought aninflux of refugees to Baghdad. They disrupted the Friday prayers andinvaded the caliph’s precinct, demanding that action be taken againstthe invaders. Eventually, an army was dispatched against the Byzantinesand their aggression was checked, but Nas.ıbın was lost.9 The importanceof the question of Muslim response to the mid-tenth-century Byzantineexpansion, and later to the First Crusade, is open to consideration. Per-haps a more significant question is why the Muslims failed militarily indealing with the Byzantines and the First Crusade? One cannot explainthe failure by the absence of jihad ideology. As powerful as ideologicalmotivation may be, ideology in itself does not guarantee success; at mostit constitutes a contributing factor.

It is not that difficult to explain the Fat.imı failure to meet the chal-lenge of the First Crusade. This began with a political failure to graspthe Crusaders’ intentions and continued with a dismal performance bythe army dispatched to Ascalon. The Fat.imı defeat at the Battle ofAscalon (12 August 1099) had a crippling effect on the conduct of theFat.imı armies sent to Palestine during the 1110s. Having no overallstrategy, the Fat.imıs failed to take advantage of their spectacular vic-tory at the Battle of Ramla in 1102. The response of the ↪Abbası statewas as ineffective as that of the Fat.imıs. In 502/1108, largely because ofmisguided Fat.imı policy, Tripoli was conquered by the Crusaders. Thefall of Beirut and Sidon followed in 503/1109. These events sparked aresponse from the Seljukid sultan, Muh.ammad of Baghdad, who choseto act through proxies. He instructed the emir Suqman, the ruler ofArmenia and Mayyafariqın, and Mawdud, the ruler of Mosul, to wagejihad against the Franks. This move galvanized other rulers to supportthe campaign. Emir Il-Ghazı b. Artuq brought a sizeable force of Turk-men (turkuman, Turkish nomads established in the Middle East andAsia Minor since the second half of the eleventh century), along with

8Ant.akı, Kitab al-ta↩rıkh, pp. 127–8, 130–1; Tor, “Privatized Jihad,” pp. 569, 573.9Ibn al-Jawzı, Al-Muntaz.am, vol. 8, p. 373.

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an unspecified number of volunteers who also joined the Muslim force,and besieged Edessa, which had been conquered during the First Cru-sade. The Franks dispatched a relief force composed of troops from theKingdom of Jerusalem, the County of Tripoli, and the Principality ofAntioch. The Atabak of Damascus failed, or did not try hard enough,to prevent the Franks from arriving at the scene of the siege. Their veryarrival led the Muslim force to abandon the siege. Ibn al-Qalanisı (d.1160), the historian of Damascus and Syria, claims that the Muslimsseized the baggage train of the Franks on the Euphrates, but a directclash between the two forces was avoided.

Another military effort against the Franks took place in 504/1110.Ibn al-Jawzı (1126–1200), a prominent H. anbalı jurist and historian ofBaghdad and the ↪Abbası caliphate, writes that in 504/1110 the Frankishconquests in Syria stirred up popular unrest directed against the sultanMuh.ammad. In Baghdad, three groups participated in the protest whichturned into riots: jurists and mystics, who can be seen as representingthe religious scholars, merchants, and noble descendants of the Prophet’sclan from Aleppo. Lamenting the fate of Islam and the Muslims, on twoconsecutive Fridays, the protesters disrupted the prayers at the congre-gational mosques of the sultan and the caliph. In 505/1111, the sultanorganized another expedition to fight the Franks in Syria. The commandwas given to Mawdud of Mosul who led a combined Muslim force againstTell Bashir, but the rulers of Damascus and Aleppo did not join the cam-paign and it ended in a fiasco.10 The events of 503/1109 and 505/1111,illustrate two permanent issues in the Muslim response to the Frankishpresence during the first half of the twelfth century and beyond. In mil-itary terms, fighting the Franks always proved to be a most demandingtask, and was, therefore, marked by caution. In political terms, broadcoalitions proved ineffective, in most cases. The reconquest of territo-ries held by the Franks took place only when it tallied with the specificinterests of a single Muslim ruler.

The thrust of my argument in this paper is that jihad always had apolitical context and cannot be studied outside of this context. The ide-ology of jihad was superimposed upon political goals and interests or, toput it differently, it was harnessed to serve them.11 My second argument

10Ibn al-Jawzı, Al-Muntaz.am, vol. 10, pp. 109, 113; Ibn al-Qalanisı, Dhayl, pp. 165–7, 173–5; Ibn al-↪Adım, Bughyat al-t.alab, vol. 3, p. 1300. For a wider discussion ofthese events, see Prawer, Histoire de royaume latin, vol. 1, pp. 285–300; Heidemann,Die Renaissance der Stadte, pp. 209–21.

11For the intricate relationships between religious ideology (jihad) and wars inIslam, see Albrecht Noth, Heiliger Krieg und Heiliger Kampf in Islam und Chris-tentum, pp. 20-25, 87–89. I am grateful to Dr. Judith Loebenstein-Witztum of theHebrew University for drawing my attention to Noth’s book.


is that military history must be brought to the fore. Although Elisseeffdealt with the military history of Nur al-Dın’s reign, this remained pe-ripheral to his discussion of Nur al-Dın’s rule and jihad. I would arguethat the attitude of Muslim rulers toward jihad was also a functionof their military capabilities. In military terms, fighting and defeatingthe Franks was a daunting task, and the military resources of Syria’stwelfth-century Muslim rulers were limited. Intra-Muslim warfare wasless demanding, and the conquest of territory held by other Muslimscould be achieved by a combination of military and non-military means.

When writing about Nur al-Dın’s reign, the biographies of the twelfthand thirteenth century historians must not be ignored, and an attemptto understand their perspective should be made. Our dependence on thehistorical writings is overwhelming, but the personalities of the historiansare mostly shrouded in mystery, and many aspects of their lives remainobscure. The least one can do is reconstruct their family background,careers, and political leanings. The same applies to Nur al-Dın’s family.One must not forget that he was the third generation of a Turkish mili-tary family, and his family history may provide clues for understandinghis jihad policy, if he ever had one.

2 Historians and historiography

2.1 Ibn ↪Asakir (1105–1176)

The depiction of Nur al-Dın as a warrior of the holy war goes back to Ibn↪Asakir, the famous muh. addith and historian of Damascus. Fragmentsof Ibn ↪Asakir’s biography, written by his son Muh.ammad al-Qasim, arequoted by Yaqut (1179–1229) and al-Dhahabı (1274–1348). The sondepicted his father as an ascetic who prayed with devotion, recited theQur↩an and dedicated his life to study and worship. He states that Ibn↪Asakir’s father was told in a dream that through a son of his, God willrevive the Sunna. Ibn ↪Asakir’s asceticism is elaborated upon by al-Dhahabı, who states that Ibn ↪Asakir performed supererogatory prayersand dhikr rituals. He sought seclusion in a minaret and avoided temp-tations. One of his contemporaries described him as one who had no in-terest in owning property and who declined appointments to posts suchas mosque preacher and leader of prayers. Ibn ↪Asakir also practicedcommanding right and forbidding wrong (al-amr bi-’l-ma↪ruf wa-’l-nahy↪an al-munkar), and his contacts with emirs, meaning the military rulingelite of Damascus, were minimal.12

12Yaqut, Mu↪jam al-buldan, vol. 4, p. 1697; Dhahabı, Ta↩rıkh al-Islam (years 571–580 AH), pp. 77, 79.

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Ibn ↪Asakir’s asceticism typified the socially-oriented pietism thatprevailed in medieval Muslim urban society. It was characterized by mildasceticism combined with a simple lifestyle and renunciation of riches.Ascetics of this type were involved in society, especially through learningand also had families of their own. Some of them also practiced al-amr bi-’l-ma↪ruf, but what this actually meant is almost impossible to ascertain.Reclusive asceticism was also common, especially in uninhabited areas.↪Izz al-Dın Ibn Shaddad (1217–1285), for example, writes about a groupof hermits that lived on subsistence in the mountains of Lebanon. Oneof the terms he uses when referring to them is abdal, or substitutes,meaning pious ascetics whose devotion protects and saves humanity, andwho were substituted after their death by others. Ibn ↪Asakir must haveadmired the abdal. Toward the end of his life, he was engaged in writinga book about them (Kitab al-abdal) which was designated for his privateuse and not for distribution. Judging from Ibn ↪Asakir’s predilection forbiographies, it must have been a biographical dictionary.13

Notwithstanding the eulogistic motives of Muh. ammad al-Qasim’s bi-ography of his father, Ibn ↪Asakir won the admiration of his contempo-raries. Saladin attended his funeral and ↪Imad al-Dın al-Isfahanı (1125–1201) — a man of letters, an administrator, and Saladin’s confidant —wrote that the heavens wept over Ibn ↪Asakir. Both Yaqut and IbnKhallikan (1211–1282) describe Ibn ↪Asakir as a scholar whose life wasdominated by the study of h. adıth. In line with a deep-rooted Islamictradition of travelling in search of knowledge, Ibn ↪Asakir acquired hiseducation in many places. Between 520/1126 and 521/1127, he studiedat the Niz.amiyya law college in Baghdad and, in 522/1128, he went ona pilgrimage to the Holy Cities of Arabia. From 529/1134, he travelledin Azerbaijan and elsewhere in the Iranian world for some years. Ibn↪Asakir’s scholarly output is dominated by works dealing with traditions(h. adıth) or h. adıth monographs. Inspired by a similar work by Khat.ıbal-Baghdadı (1001–1071), Ibn ↪Asakir’s voluminous biographical dictio-nary of notable Damascenes entitled The history of Damascus was alsoheld in high regard.14

Although Ibn ↪Asakir was an important transmitter and teacher oftraditions, his biographers provide little information about the publicaspects of his life. Abu Shama (1203–1268) who, like Ibn ↪Asakir, was aDamascene scholar who had deep roots in local society and avoided as-sociation with the rulers, mentions Ibn ↪Asakir’s presence at the sessions

13Ibn Shaddad, Al-A↪laq al-khat.ıra, p. 35; Dhahabı, Ta↩rıkh al-Islam (years 571–580 AH), p. 76; Yaqut, Mu↪jam al-buldan, vol. 4, p. 1701. For socially orientedpietism, see Lev, “Piety and politics,” pp. 290, 295–6.

14Yaqut, Mu↪jam al-buldan, vol. 4, p. 1698; Ibn Khallikan, Wafayat al-a↪yan, vol.3, pp. 309–310; Dhahabı, Ta↩rıkh al-Islam (years 571–580 AH), pp. 71–72.


held by Nur al-Dın and Saladin in Damascus. Nevertheless, the impres-sion is that Ibn ↪Asakir was “an independent scholar,” meaning that heheld no official posts. He therefore had to finance his scholarly interestshimself. However, Taj al-Dın al-Subkı (1327–1369) writes that Nur al-Dın built a dar al-h. adıth (a house/institution for the study of prophetictraditions) for Ibn ↪Asakir who held a teaching position there. James E.Lindsay makes the unsubstantiated claim that this dar al-h. adıth becamethe center for Nur al-Dın’s jihad, whatever that might mean in practicalterms. No less speculative is Suleiman A. Mourad’s claim that, over-whelmed by the Crusader challenge, Ibn ↪Asakir reshaped the portraitof Jesus in the History of Damascus to fit the Crusader context. In Ibn↪Asakir’s depiction, Jesus was to lead the Muslim holy war against theFranks.15

A somewhat different and less flattering perspective on Ibn ↪Asakiris offered by Ibn al-Jawzı, who depicts Ibn ↪Asakir as an Asha↪rı zealot,opposed to H. anbalı anthropomorphism. He writes nothing about Ibn↪Asakir’s pursuit of h. adıth and barely mentions his History of Damas-cus. In any case, Ibn al-Jawzı had little sympathy for traditionists ofIbn ↪Asakir’s type who, in his view, devoted their lives to the collectionof traditions while failing to understand them. Ibn al-Jawzı’s character-ization of Ibn ↪Asakir as an anti-H. anbalı bigot was not an exaggeration.As has been pointed out by Jean-Michel Mouton, Ibn ↪Asakir’s hostilityto the H. anbalıs is clearly attested in the History of Damascus.16 Ibn↪Asakir can be considered the epitome of the Sunnı Damascene societyinto which Nur al-Dın tried hard to integrate. Although Ibn ↪Asakirappears to be an independent scholar with loose ties to the ruling estab-lishment of Damascus, he was well disposed toward Nur al-Dın and hisregime.

Ibn ↪Asakir’s biography of Nur al-Dın in the History of Damascus isan important text which raises many questions. Although the textualhistory of Ta↩rıkh Dimashq has not yet been studied, internal evidenceindicates that Nur al-Dın’s biography was written after the Zankid con-quest of Egypt in 1169. It depicts Nur al-Dın at the zenith of his career,and can be considered as a summary and evaluation of his reign. Ibn↪Asakir portrays Nur al-Dın as a pious, charitable, and just ruler whoimplemented a program of social policies that included the establishmentof many endowed institutions. The section devoted to Nur al-Dın’s holy

15Abu Shama, Kitab al-rawd. atayn, vol. 1, p. 54, vol. 2, p. 35; Subkı, T. abaqatal-Shafi ↪iyya al-kubra, vol. 7, p. 223; Lindsay, “Ibn ↪Asakir,” p. 8; Mourad, “Jesusaccording to Ibn ↪Asakir,” pp. 25–26, 31. For a more sober approach, see Antrim,“Ibn ↪Asakir’s representation,” pp. 114–116.

16Ibn al-Jawzı, al-Muntaz.am, vol. 10, p. 5439; Mouton, Damas, p. 7; Makdisi,“Ash↪arı and Ash↪arites,” pp. 212–213.

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war is short and appears immediately after the report on his entry toAleppo, following the death of his father in 1147. It deals with sev-eral issues and mentions Nur al-Dın’s defeat of Joscelin II of Edessa whotried to retake Edessa, which had been conquered by Nur al-Dın’s father.After this remark we read:

Following Nur al-Dın’s consolidation of his rule [in Aleppo],his efforts to carry out the holy war, to subdue the obdurateinfidels, and to care for the welfare (mas. alih. ) of the worship-pers had been manifested.17

The account continues by enumerating the forts conquered by Nur al-Dın and his victories over the Byzantines, while Nur al-Dın’s victory atthe Battle of H. arim is mentioned in another section of the text. Ibn↪Asakir depicts Nur al-Dın as a warrior of the holy war and states thathe “dedicated his efforts toward the right path and exerted himself in theholy war against the enemies of God. He exceeded in fighting them.” Ibn↪Asakir also mentions that Nur al-Dın held Frankish leaders in captivity.These remarks appear in a rather surprising context: Nur al-Dın’s jihadis juxtaposed with praise for his renewal of charitable water installations.

Ibn ↪Asakir puts Nur al-Dın’s holy war and his care for the worship-pers on the same level of importance. One cannot escape the impressionthat by worshippers, Ibn ↪Asakir meant ascetics in general and, per-haps, ascetics of his own type in particular. Nur al-Dın was admired byIbn ↪Asakir for both his personal qualities (or in his parlance, virtues,manaqib) and policies. The text does not suggest that a certain per-sonal trait or a policy were especially meritorious, certainly not jihad.The whole of Nur al-Dın’s qualities and policies aroused Ibn ↪Asakir’sadmiration and made him a hero in his eyes.

2.2 Ibn al-Qalanisı (d. 1160)

As Ibn ↪Asakir and Ibn al-Qalanisı were contemporaries, and both livedin Damascus, the comparison between their respective portraits of Nural-Dın is illuminating. Ibn al-Qalanisı, the historian of Damascus andSyria, refers to Nur al-Dın as the sultan of Syria (al-Sham), highlight-ing the fact that he was a state builder with dynastic ambitions. Nural-Dın’s dynastic-political ambitions, although obscured by Ibn ↪Asakir,must have been plainly clear to his contemporaries. For example, Ibnal-Azraq al-Fariqı (1116–1176), the historian of Mayyafariqın, in theupper Diyar Bakr region, refers to Nur al-Dın as the king of Syria. Ibnal-Qalanisı lived in Damascus under Nur al-Dın’s rule and his favorable

17Elisseeff, “Un document contemporain,” p. 137.


account of Nur al-Dın emphasizes what he sees as two aspects: his com-mitment to justice, and the care he took not to shed the blood of fellowMuslims during the conquest of Damascus. Ibn al-Qalanisı’s account ofNur al-Dın’s justice is cast in a hagiographic format interpolated intothe chronicle of the events of the year 544/1149–1150. In that year, Nural-Dın intended to lead a campaign into the H. awran region, Damascus’sgrain-producing hinterland to the south of the city, which had been af-fected by drought. Nur al-Dın claimed that his move was a responseto Frankish raids on the region. Whatever the real reasons behind Nural-Dın’s intended campaign, referred to as jihad, Ibn al-Qalanisı writesthat when he was in Ba↪labakk (north of Damascus), rain began to fall,and the population attributed the end of the drought to Nur al-Dın’sjustice and exemplary conduct and offered intercessory prayers (du↪a↩)in his favour.18 This account might have been influenced by politicalchanges that took place in 544/1149–1150 in Damascus following thedeath of its actual ruler Mu↪in al-Dın Unur. A coalition of emirs, headedby the nominal ruler Mujır al-Dın, with the participation of the ra ↩ıs (thecivilian head) of Damascus, seized power in the town. Ibn al-Qalanisıhad little sympathy for the new rulers to whom he referred as arbabDimashq, wulat amr al-balad, and s. ah. ib al-amr.19 These expressionsconvey contempt: the term arbab is used when referring to holders ofadministrative, religious, or military posts as opposed to the wielders ofpolitical power, while wulat amr al-balad (those who hold sway over thetown), and s. ah. ib al-amr (the ruler) imply lack of legitimacy. It remainsunclear whether Ibn al-Qalanisı’s belief in Nur al-Dın’s justice (whichhad proved instrumental in bringing rain) actually reflected his think-ing in 544/1149–1150 or was remolded retrospectively, following Nural-Dın’s conquest of Damascus in 549/1149. In any case, when referringto Nur al-Dın, Ibn al-Qalanisı systematically uses the title of the “JustKing” (al-malik al-↪adil) Nur al-Dın and, occasionally, the less formalepithet al-mawla, the Lord. Ibn al-Qalanisı’s perception of Nur al-Dınas state builder and sultan of Syria is unique, and he rarely refers to Nural-Dın’s military endeavors as jihad, although he sometimes alludes toNur al-Dın’s army as victorious and divinely protected.20 A consistentfeature in Ibn al-Qalanisı’s narrative is the attribution of victories overthe Franks to God, while Nur al-Dın is portrayed as God’s servant towhom du↪a↩ prayers are offered.21 Ibn al-Qalanisı depicts Nur al-Dın asan aspiring sultan who carved out a patrimony for himself, fighting both

18Ibn al-Azraq, Ta↩rıkh Mayyafariqın wa-Amid, p. 202; Ibn al-Qalanisı, Dhayl, pp.308–309.

19Ibn al-Qalanisı, Dhayl, pp. 306, 309, 313, 327.20Ibid., pp. 331, 333–334, 338, 340, 341, 352, 354.21Ibid , pp. 339, 340, 342.

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the Muslims and Franks. He was a successful and just ruler whom Ibnal-Qalanisı appreciated, but did not admire.

2.3 Ibn al-Athır (1160–1233)

The writings of ↪Izz al-Dın b. al-Athır are indispensable for the study ofZankid history. Ibn al-Athır, however, is both a historian of the Zankidsand their panegyrist. Furthermore, he was highly biased against Saladin.Ibn al-Athır’s biographers depict him as a person of noble characterand a modest scholar, who was interested in history, genealogy, andthe biographies of the Prophet’s Companions. Ibn Khallikan, who metIbn al-Athır in 626/1228–1129, in Aleppo, was especially appreciativeof his abridgement of Sam↪anı’s genealogy, claiming that he made manycorrections to the text. Ibn al-Athır’s abridgement became popular andsupplanted Sam↪anı’s original eight-volume text, which became rare.

Ibn al-Athır was born in Jazırat Ibn ↪Umar on the Upper Tigris but in579/1184 his family moved to Mosul. Ibn al-Athır acquired his educationin Mosul, Baghdad, and Syria. He also visited Jerusalem, most certainlyafter 1187. If Ibn al-Athır held any posts, they are barely alluded toby Ibn Khallikan, and the family’s economic circumstances are nevermentioned. The Athır family owned some agricultural land near theirhometown, and Ibn al-Athır must have been from a middle-class family.Both Ibn Khallikan and al-Dhahabı write that Ibn al-Athır’s home wasopen to scholars.22

When discussing Ibn al-Athır’s hostility to Saladin, one must notforget that in 587/1191, Ibn al-Athır’s younger brother D. iya↩ al-Dın(1162–1240) served Saladin for a few months, and then served his son al-Malik al-Afd. al. Following Saladin’s death, al-Malik al-Afd. al became theruler of Damascus and D. iya↩ al-Dın his vizier. However, D. iya↩ al-Dın in-curred the hostility of the population, and his subsequent administrativecareer could be described as a checkered one. He became famous for hisliterary talents and for his mastery of the art of epistolary writing. An-other brother of Ibn al-Athır was Majd al-Dın (1149–1211) who, in linewith family tradition, was learned in Arabic, the Qur↩an, and h. adıth. Hewas also inclined toward mystics, for whom he established an endowedlodge (ribat.). His administrative career focused on Mosul, and he servedthe Zankid rulers of the town in various capacities.23 The sources aresilent about the relations between the brothers and the possible influence

22Ibn Khallikan, Wafayat al-a↪yan, vol. 3, pp. 348–349; Dhahabı, Ta↩rıkh al-Islam(years 621–630 AH), pp. 396–397; Ibn Fut.ı, Al-H. awadith al-jami ↪a, p. 136.

23Ibn Khallikan, Wafayat al-a↪yan, vol. 5, pp. 389–391; Ibn Sa↪ı, Al-Jami ↪ al-mukhtas.ar, pp. 299–301; Dhahabı, Ta↩rıkh al-Islam (years 631–640 AH), pp. 354–355.


of Ibn al-Athır’s brothers and their careers on Ibn al-Athır’s writings.Although Ibn al-Athır apparently held no official posts, he travelled ex-tensively and befriended rulers and administrators.

Ibn al-Athır deals with Zankid history in two of his historical works:a universal history entitled al-Kamil fı ’l-ta↩rıkh and al-Ta↩rıkh al-bahirfı ’l-dawla al-Atabakiyya (“The Shining History of the Atabekid Dy-nasty”). Ibn al-Athır explicitly states that al-Ta↩rıkh al-bahir was writ-ten to set forth the virtues of the Zankid rulers and was intended for theuse of the Zankid ruler of Mosul, al-Qahir b. Nur al-Dın Arslan Shah(1210–1219).24 In the history of the Atabeks, Ibn al-Athır strictly ad-heres to the book’s declared purpose, namely to recount the merits ofthe Zankids, while events that tarnish their reputation were expungedfrom the text. The history of the Atabeks can also be read as a vindi-cation of the long association of Ibn al-Athır’s family with the Zankids.Ibn al-Athır’s father served Nur al-Dın’s father, and thus any blemish on↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s reputation could imply that Ibn al-Athır’s fatherhad served an unworthy ruler. Ibn al-Athır’s treatment of ↪Imad al-DınZankı in the history of the Atabeks is comprehensive and relies on oralinformation derived from his father. Ibn al-Athır deals extensively with↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s wars with the Franks and bestows upon him anaura of jihad. According to Ibn al-Athır, ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s nomi-nation in 521/1127 as governor of Mosul was motivated by the wish ofthe Seljukid sultan, the vizier, and leading people in Mosul to have adistinguished military leader in the town who was capable of defendingMuslim territories against the Franks. Ibn al-Athır puts ↪Imad al-DınZankı’s nomination in a broader context: that of the weakness of theMuslim world in face of the growing Frankish might and expansion dur-ing the 520s/1120s. The weakness of Islam is perceived as the feeblenessof Muslim rulers — “the kings of the Muslim land and emirs of the Mus-lim nation (al-milla al-h. anafiyya).” Ibn al-Athır’s depiction of ↪Imadal-Dın Zankı is one-sided; other chroniclers emphasized his temper andbrutal rule.25

Ibn al-Athır also depicts other rulers of Syria of the first half of thetwelfth century as jihad warriors. The differences between Ibn al-Athır’sreferences to jihad and those of Ibn al-Qalanisı are illustrated by theirobituaries of Tughtakın, the ruler of Damascus who died in 522/1128.Tughtakın’s territories bordered the Franks and he fought them manytimes, however, Ibn al-Qalanisı does not refer to him in terms of jihad.He emphasizes his just rule, while Ibn al-Athır describes his wars against

24Ibn al-Athır, al-Ta↩rıkh al-bahir, pp. 2–3.25Ibn al-Athır, al-Ta↩rıkh al-bahir, pp. 32–33, 3–5; Hillenbrand, “Abominable acts”,

pp. 121–123; idem, The Crusades, pp. 112–113.

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the Franks as jihad.26 One can only agree with Sivan that Ibn al-Athır’swritings are typified by grafting the ideology of jihad onto the first halfof the twelfth century. Ibn al-Athır’s writings, especially his universalhistory, are well known by modern scholars and his views have permeatedthe current scholarly discourse on Nur al-Dın’s jihad to a great extant.In order to put the issue of jihad into its proper historical context, it isnecessary to discuss Nur al-Dın’s family history.

3 The history of Nur al-Dın’s family

3.1 Qasim al-Dawla Aq Sunqur (1087–1094)

Born in 511/1117, Nur al-Dın was the third generation of a Turkish mil-itary family whose fortunes were closely intertwined with those of theSeljukid sultans of Baghdad. Al-↪Az.ımı (d. 1161) provides two versions ofthe origins of Nur al-Dın’s grandfather Qasim al-Dawla Aq Sunqur. Ac-cording to one, he was a military slave of the Seljukid sultan Malik Shah(1072–1092); another states that he belonged to his inner circle, mean-ing that he was a free man. Qasim al-Dawla Aq Sunqur’s patronymic,Ibn ↪Abd Allah, indicates that he was a first generation Muslim, prob-ably a military slave who was converted to Islam in slavery. As couldbe expected, Ibn al-Athır adopts the second version and claims thatQasim al-Dawla Aq Sunqur was raised together with Malik Shah whileIbn Khallikan, a more sober and dispassionate historian of the Zankids,follows the first version.27 Whatever Qasim al-Dawla Aq Sunqur’s ori-gin, in 480/1087–1088 Malik Shah appointed him governor of Aleppo.In 485/1092, following Malik Shah’s death, Tutush, his younger brotherand the ruler of Damascus, became the supreme Seljukid sovereign inSyria. He persuaded, or forced, Qasim al-Dawla Aq Sunqur and othergovernors in Syria who were directly appointed by Malik Shah, to sup-port him in his struggle against his nephew Barkyaruq for the sultanate.This war was fought in Iran, and Qasim al-Dawla Aq Sunqur aban-doned Tutush, sided with Barkyaruq, and returned to Aleppo. Qasimal-Dawla Aq Sunqur owed his position, and maintained loyalty, to Ma-lik Shah, whereas his relations with Tutush were dominated by politicalexpediency. The inevitable showdown between the two took place in487/1094, in Syria. Qasim al-Dawla Aq Sunqur was defeated, captured,and executed. Apparently, a strong element of personal animosity was

26Ibn al-Qalanisı, Dhayl, p. 219; Ibn al-Athır, al-Kamil, vol. 9, p. 208.27Ibn al-↪Adım, Bughyat al-t.alab, vol. 3, p. 1954; Ibn al-Athır, al-Ta↩rıkh al-bahir,

p. 4; Ibn Khallikan, Wafayat al-a↪yan, vol. 1, p. 241.


also involved.28

Although Qasim al-Dawla Aq Sunqur is an indistinct figure, his ca-reer highlights how competitive, fragmented, and complex the Syrianpolitical scene was. Perhaps his downfall was not surprising since inSeljukid Syria, authority was divided between the sultan Malik Shahand his younger brother Tutush who, in 470/1077, invaded Syria and,in 471/1078, captured Damascus. Qasim al-Dawla Aq Sunqur’s failurein the world of high politics says nothing about his ability as a ruler ona local level. Ibn al-Qalanisı characterizes him as a ruler who inspiredroyal awe (hayba), a positive attribute, and ruled justly. He foughtcriminals, improved roads, and established safety for travellers. Conse-quently, commerce flourished and state income increased. Ibn al-Athırwrites that Qasim al-Dawla Aq Sunqur prevented the troops from ex-ploiting the villagers, but he also held them collectively responsible forthe safety of travellers crossing their district.29

Economic history is essential for the understanding of Zankid historyand, in particular, of Nur al-Dın’s reign and his ability, or lack thereof,to wage war. The most comprehensive study of the economic history ofSyria and northern Mesopotamia from the second half of the eleventhcentury until the thirteenth century is that of Stefan Heidemann. Hei-demann perceives this period as one of economic recovery following thedecline associated with the collapse of ↪Abbası hegemony in the tenthcentury. The vacuum left by the ↪Abbasıs was filled by Bedouin tribeswho seized power in the region. Bedouin rule was associated with the de-cline of cities, long-distance trade, and gold coinage. After the Bedouinswere driven out by the Seljuks, came a period of urban and economicrecovery in spite of the Crusades. The policies of rulers such as Nural-Dın had a positive impact on both the rural and urban economies.This period of renewed growth lasted until the Mongol invasion of themid-thirteenth century.30

When references to economic matters appear in the writings of twel-fth-thirteenth century historians, they usually allude to rulers who ruledjustly and improved the economy. In some cases, in line with Heide-mann’s arguments, it is quite obvious that the improvement came aftera period of destruction and economic decline. Examples are a legion.For instance, the Tutush’s 470/1077 campaign in Syria was destructiveand ended only after the seizure of Damascus. In 468/1093, however,

28Ibn al-↪Adım, Zubdat al-t.alab, vol. 1, pp. 328–330; Ibn al-Qalanisı, Dhayl, pp.126-127; Elisseeff, Nur al-Dın, vol. 2, pp. 280–286; El-Azhari, The Saljuks of Syria,pp. 73–76.

29Ibn al-Qalanisı, Dhayl, p. 119; Ibn al-↪Adım, Zubdat al-t.alab, vol. 1, p. 326; Ibnal-Athır, al-Kamil, vol. 8, p. 295; idem, al-Ta↩rıkh al-bahir, p. 15.

30See Heidemann, Die Renaissance der Stadte.

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Atsız, the Turkish ruler of Damascus, took steps to increase the agri-cultural output in the Ghut.a, the agricultural belt around Damascus,and the surrounding steppe (marj ). He supplied the fellahin with seedsand forced them to repair the agricultural infrastructure. In a similarvein, William of Tyre (ca. 1130–1190), the renowned historian of theLatin East, writes about the revival of the rural hinterland of Ascalonafter the conquest of the town by the Crusaders in 1154. From 1099,Ascalon had been a border town between the Fat.imıs and the Kingdomof Jerusalem, and the region had deteriorated due to constant warfare.The Frankish conquest brought stability and the revival of agriculture.William of Tyre writes with great enthusiasm about the exceptional fer-tility of the long uncultivated land. In Arabic historiography, the themeof economic revival is often combined with the theme of rule of justice.The perception of justice as instrumental for economic prosperity per-meated Arabic sources. It was both a literary motif and a reflection ofindividual cases. In this vein, for example, Ibn al-Azraq describes thebeginning of the Artuqid rule in 1118 in Mayyafariqın. The town waspartially ruined and misgoverned, but the Artuqids brought stability, taxremissions, and restored safety. These steps brought about the revivalof both the countryside and trade.

Ibn al-↪Adım (1192-1262), the historian of Aleppo, presents us withanother example, although a negative one. He characterizes the gover-nor Yaghı Siyan of Antioch, who lost the town to the armies of the FirstCrusade, as a capable military leader but an oppressor as far as the localpopulation was concerned. He draws sees a link between Yaghı Siyan’snotoriety and the fall of the town. When the Crusaders approached An-tioch, rebellions erupted in the fortresses around the town and in somecases the help of the Crusaders was sought. Furthermore, the officer whobetrayed Antioch was a victim of Yaghı Siyan’s fiscal oppression.31 Al-though the revitalization of the local economy did take place, territorialexpansion was a quicker way to enlarge the economic base of a Muslimor Frankish principality.

If family history provides any insights into Nur al-Dın’s thinkingand policies, his grandfather’s legacy might be described as avoidingconfrontation with powerful rulers and making the economy a priority.In a way, Nur al-Dın followed it: his politics were cautious and theeconomy was high on his agenda.

31Ibn al-Qalanisı, Dhayl, p. 106; Ibn al-↪Adım, Zubdat t.alab, vol. 1, pp. 294–295, 298–299, 345–348; Ibn al-Azraq, Ta↩rıkh Mayyafariqın wa-Amid, pp. 149–150;William of Tyre, vol. 2, p. 236; Mouton, Damas, pp. 12–13. For a more skepticalview about the merits of the Artuqid rule, see Hillenbrand, “The Career of Najmal-Din Il-Ghazı,” pp. 264–266.


3.2 ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı (1122–1146)

In 487/1094, when Qasim al-Dawla Aq Sunqur was executed, his onlyson ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı was about ten years old, and even Ibn al-Athır isunable to provide a convincing account of how he survived the deathof his father. He claims that Qasim al-Dawla Aq Sunqur’s militaryslaves rallied around the young boy. This is possible, but military slavesneeded employment and income; one can only wonder what the young↪Imad al-Dın Zankı had to offer them. In 488/1095, with the deathof Tutush in the battle with Barkyaruq, ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s circum-stances changed for the better. Kirbuka, ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s uncle,was released from prison in H. ims. Kirbuka raised ↪Imad al-Dın Zankıin Mosul and granted iqt.a↪s to his military slaves. ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’supbringing, under Kirbuka’s supervision, was dominated by participa-tion in military campaigns. Kirbuka died in 494/1101 but, during theyears 494–515/1101–1121, ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı enjoyed the patronage ofother rulers of Mosul. In 516/1122, he was appointed to his first position— governor of Basra. He was 39 years old, a rather advanced age at atime when life expectancy was short, but he brought vast military andpolitical experience to the post. As governor of a town in southern Iraq,↪Imad al-Dın Zankı became entangled in the struggle between the caliphand the sultan. ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı supported the latter and decided toseek direct patronage of the sultan. Ibn al-Athır, on the authority of hisfather, recounts the deliberations that took place between ↪Imad al-DınZankı and his aspiring emirs who sought a stronger patron and bettercareers. Eventually, ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı received the sultan’s patronage,who also married him off to the wealthy widow of one of his deceasedemirs.32

In 521/1127, ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı was appointed governor of Mosul.He took the town peacefully after negotiating a settlement with thelocal emir. Although Ibn al-Athır is a Zankid sympathizer, he is aninsightful and, occasionally, candid historian. He clarifies both ↪Imadal-Dın’s long-term goals as well as his more immediate concerns. Hislong term goal was “the crossing of the Euphrates and the seizure ofAleppo and the other towns of Syria.” However, the immediate goal wasexpansion in Upper Mesopotamia in order to seize territories and dividethem as grants (iqt.a↪at) to the army.33 Ibn al-Athır unintentionallydraws attention to the crucial importance of territory in the processof state-building of that time. Since Muslim armies were maintained

32Ibn al-Athır, al-Ta↩rıkh al-bahir, pp. 15–16, 24–25; al-Kamil, vol. 9, pp. 83, 88,177; Elisseeff, Nur al-Dın, vol. 2, pp. 287–288, 293–329; Hillenbrand, “Abominableacts”, pp. 113–115.

33Ibn al-Athır, al-Ta↩rıkh al-bahir, p. 37.

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through the iqt.a↪ system (i.e. granting fiscal rights over land in exchangefor military service), territorial expansion became the lifeblood of anyprincipality as it fought for its political future.

↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s first conquest was the town of Jazırat Ibn ↪Umar,followed by Nas.ıbın, west of it. His next conquests involved Sinjar,west of Mosul, the settlements along the Khabur river, and the town ofH. arran. Ibn al-Athır claims that the people of H. arran gladly submit-ted to ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s rule, confident that he would defend themagainst the Franks of Edessa, and he indeed concluded a truce with them.When dealing with this early stage of ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s independentcareer, Ibn al-Athır does not depict him as a warrior of the holy war andrefrains from using jihad as a tool for conferring legitimacy. He adoptsanother approach and depicts ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı as an auspicious ruler.This motif appears in the account referring to the conquest of Jazırat Ibn↪Umar. According to Ibn al-Athır, ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s army enteredthe town a day ahead of a violent and unexpected flooding of the Tigris.Ibn al-Athır’s message is subtle, and implies that ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’sgood fortune was a sign of divine protection and guidance. Shortly afterthe conquest of Jazırat Ibn ↪Umar, ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı realized his goalof “crossing the Euphrates” and, in 522/1128, he conquered Aleppo.

The independent phase of ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s career could be de-scribed as the outburst of a long suppressed energy driven by the desirefor conquest and expansion, and marked by fighting on many fronts.Many of ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s conquests involved Muslim territories. In522/1128, ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı conquered Manbij and the fort of Buza↪a,both between Aleppo and Qal↪at Najm on the Euphrates. In 524/1130,he conquered the towns of Sirj and Dara, between Mardın and Nas.ıbın.This brought ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı into conflict with the ruler of MardınH. usam al-Dın Timurtash b. Il-Ghazı and the ruler of H. is.n Kayfa, on theUpper Tigris, Rukn al-Dawla b. Suqman. They mobilized a large forceof Turkmen, but were defeated.34

In terms of the methods used, ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s most unsavoryconquest was that of Hama in 523/1129. Ibn al-Athır presents two verydifferent accounts of this affair: one in the universal history and anotherin the history of the Atabeks. According to the version in the universalhistory, ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı crossed the Euphrates “pretending to wageholy war against the Franks” and asked Taj al-Dın Burı, the ruler ofDamascus, for assistance; he sent his son Baha↩ al-Dın Sunuj, the rulerof Hama, on this mission. ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı acted treacherously and

34Ibn al-Athır, al-Ta↩rıkh al-bahir, p. 38; idem, al-Kamil, vol. 9, p. 215; Ibn al-↪Adım, Zubdat t.alab, vol. 2, pp. 431–432, 437; Elisseeff, Nur al-Dın, vol. 2, pp. 332–344.


imprisoned Baha↩ al-Dın, captured Hama and demanded a ransom of50,000 dınars for his release. This version tallies with the one recountedby Ibn al-Qalanisı, but does not appear in Ibn al-Athır’s history of theAtabeks, where the capture of Hama is referred to in a single short anddry sentence. In the struggle for Hama, the town changed hands severaltimes. In 527/1133, ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı lost Hama and, in 529/1135,reconquered it. It is very difficult to gain a clear picture of what kindof place Hama was at that time. Yaqut (1179–1229) writes that it isa great city, famous for its splendor and cheap commodities. It had animposing citadel and was surrounded by orchards. It is impossible todeduce if this is contemporary description or it depicts the city as it wasbefore Yaqut’s time. Surely Damascus was a greater prize. Although↪Imad al-Dın Zankı put much effort — both military and politically —in his attempts to take the town, he was unable to exploit the politicalinstability in 529/1135 in Damascus to his advantage.35

The case of Hama raises the question of how bloody intra-Muslimwarfare really was. The sources are reticent on this issue and the only ex-plicit reference appears in the context of ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s conquestsin 537/1143 in the Kurdish region of Jabal Hakkarı, north of Mosul.Combat for the Ashab fort was fierce and involved much bloodshed, in-cluding the execution of captured Kurdish officers. ↪Imad al-Dın Zankırazed the fort and constructed a new one named Qal↪at al-↪Imadiyya.The impression conveyed by Ibn al-Athır’s account in the universal his-tory is that such carnage was exceptional. Ibn al-Athır ends the accountabout ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s campaign in the region by saying that “thepopulation (of the Jazıra?) became safe from the Kurds,” meaning prob-ably Kurdish raids. However, this statement is open to several differentinterpretations. It might suggest that when fighting the Kurds, ↪Imadal-Dın Zankı intentionally adopted a policy of killing and intimidation,but it might also be interpreted as an apologetic comment: the desir-able aim of bringing security to the population justified ↪Imad al-DınZankı’s harsh methods. However, one must not exclude the possibilitythat ethnic enmity between Turks and Kurds also played a role in theseevents.36

We can, in fact, approach this issue from a broader perspective andask how bloody Muslim-Christian warfare was. Battles which endedin a Muslim triumph were characterized by widespread carnage of theenemy, but prisoners were also taken and their treatment depended on

35Ibn al-Qalanisı, Dhayl, pp. 227–228, 244–248; Yaqut, Mu↪jam al-buldan, vol. 2,p. 300; Ibn al-Athır, al-Kamil, vol. 8, pp. 211–212. For ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s policytoward Damascus, see Zouache, “Zangı,” pp. 77–79.

36Ibn al-Athır, al-Kamil, vol. 9, pp. 236–237; Yaqut, Mu↪jam al-buldan, vol. 5, pp.149, 408.

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their social standing. High-ranking prisoners were kept alive for ransom.The killing of prisoners of war did take place, but this practice was notwidespread. Another question is what happened to conquered towns andto what extent did religious hatred toward the defeated enemy play a rolein the treatment of non-combatants. The events of the First Crusade andthose of the 1110s are not necessarily indicative of mid-twelfth centuryMuslim-Christian warfare. By that time, Muslim-Christian warfare hadbecame routine and, apparently, some conventions were respected byboth sides. It seems that on some occasions, ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı deviatedfrom these conventions. For example, in 530/1135, he besieged Atharib,south-west of Aleppo, and after the capitulation of the town killed themale population while enslaving women and children.37

It is true that ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s siege of Atharib was in retalia-tion for previous destructive raids on Aleppo’s agricultural hinterland,but raiding the countryside was a standard military practice. Killingthe men while sparing women and children might by explained by theabsence of agricultural slave labour in twelfth-century Syria. Neither arethere any indications of large scale servile labour in the urban contextsuch as on construction sites. Therefore, low-class male captives hadlittle “economic value,” so to speak. Women and children, on the otherhand, became domestic slaves and were integrated into the householdeconomy.38

In some cases, raiding brought great numbers of captives. In 530/1135, for example, ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s governor of Aleppo successfullyraided the Frankish territory of Latakiyya and captured 7,000 peopleand animals. The emphasis on the capture of people might indicate thatthis area was populated by a Latin population. It is doubtful whetherthe capture of Muslims, or even a local indigenous Christian population,would be singled out as a meritorious deed. The capture of Muslimswould be regarded as a displacement of population and, most likely,would not be attempted at all. One can only infer that the people cap-tured in this raid belonged to rural Latin population. Ibn al-Athır writesthat they were men, women, and children, and that the captors musthave sold them into slavery. The re-conquest of former Muslim territoriesraised the intriguing question of the ownership of land owned by Mus-lims prior to the Frankish conquest. In 531/1137, ↪Imad al-Dın Zankıre-conquered Ma↪arrat al-Nu↪man and Kfar T. ab, east of the Orontes. In

37Anonymous, The first and second Crusades, pp. 274–275. For the location ofAtharib and its geographical importance, see Elisseeff, Nur al-Dın, vol. 1, pp. 186–187; Zouache, “Zangı,” p. 70.

38The discussion concerning the extent of slavery in the Latin East seems to beinconclusive, see Prawer, Crusader institutions, pp. 201–117; Kedar, “The subjectedMuslims,” pp. 152–154.


these two places, he returned lands to Muslim owners and the claimswere examined according to the tax registers (dafatir) of Aleppo. It isclear that some kind of documentary evidence indicating ownership wasrequired. This leaves open the question of cases where there was no suchevidence to back up claims of ownership prior to the Frankish conquest.The sources do not tell us what happened to the recently resettled Mus-lim population when the Byzantine army campaigned in this region in532/1138. In any case, the garrison of Kfar T. ab fled the place.39

The conquest of Edessa in 1144 demonstrates another point: the ten-uous line between the destruction of enemy territory during the conquestand efforts to preserve its economic viability. According to MoniqueAmouroux-Mourad, 15,000 inhabitants were killed during the conquestof Edessa.40 At a certain point, however, ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı ordered tostop the killing and looting that took place during and after the conquestof the town. Ibn al-Athır writes that “political wisdom (siyasa) did notallow the destruction of such a town.” ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı ordered the re-lease of the captives and the return of the looted goods, and Ibn al-Athırmakes the rather improbable claim that “the town returned to its formerstate.” ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s initial intentions were quite different. Heasked the religious leaders of Edessa to surrender and promised to keepthe city intact. After the bloody conquest, ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı expro-priated the Frankish properties in the town, but treated the survivingArmenian and Syriac population well.41

If we turn to the broader issue of jihad and its place in the politicallife of Syria in the first half of the twelfth century, it can be argued thatthe ideology of jihad did not galvanize Muslim rulers into an all-out waragainst the Franks. Although any engagement fought against the Frankscould have been presented as jihad, the religious content of the jihad ide-ology did not shape the policy of Muslim rulers toward the Franks. Thisis evident even from Ibn al-Athır’s discourse of jihad, especially when thedifferences between the universal history and the history of the Atabeksare taken into account. In 524/1130, for example, ↪Imad al-Dın Zankıbesieged the fort of Atharib, between Aleppo and Antioch. Ibn al-Athıraffirms that he fought in the name of Islam against Christianity, aimingto promote the cause of Islam based on adherence to God’s commands,against those who deviated from them (the supposed ideological aspectsof this campaign are not mentioned in the universal history). One caninfer that Ibn al-Athır understood jihad as involving two levels: theuniversal struggle between Islam and Christianity for supremacy and a

39Ibn al-Athır, al-Kamil, vol. 9, p. 263; Ibn al-Qalanisı, Dhayl, p. 266.40See Amouroux-Mourad, Le comte d’Edesse, p. 86.41Ibn al-Athır, al-Kamil, vol. 9, pp. 294–295; Anonymous, The first and second

Crusades, pp. 282–287; Elisseeff, Nur al-Dın, vol. 2, pp. 377–381.

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local territorial struggle between Muslims and Christians. Both aspectswere inextricable and any local victory had consequences for the broadercontext.42

Ibn al-Athır’s complex discourse on ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s jihad isalso illustrated by the case of Edessa. According to Ibn al-Qalanisı, theconquest of Edessa was ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s long-standing goal and hetook advantage of Joscelin’s absence, with most of his army, from thetown. Ibn al-Qalanisı does not describe this campaign as motivated bythe spirit of the holy war. However, he writes that when ↪Imad al-DınZankı appealed to the Turkmen to join the campaign, he urged them tocarry out the duty of jihad. Ibn al-Athır’s accounts of the conquest ofEdessa reveal the usual disparity between the narratives in the universalhistory and the history of the Atabeks. In the history of the Atabeks,the emphasis is on the return of Edessa to Muslim rule (h. ukm al-Islam)and the re-establishment of Muslim law (ah. kam ahl al-ıman), while inthe universal history, the underlying motif is that the conquest put anend to Frankish raids. These accounts are complementary rather thancontradictory. In the universal history, when referring to ↪Imad al-DınZankı’s wars against the Franks, Ibn al-Athır’s narrative strategy is quitesimple: the emphasis is not on motives but on the results, and thepractical aspects of ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s achievements are emphasized.In the history of the Atabeks, the religious dimension of ↪Imad al-DınZankı’s achievements in fighting the Franks are brought to the fore: Islamis winning in the struggle against Christianity.43

Ibn al-Athır also found a way to present ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s warsagainst other Muslim rulers. For example, in the universal history, Ibnal-Athır refers to ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s 538/1144 campaign in the DiyarBakr region, which ended in the conquest of forts held by Muslim rulersand the Franks. Ibn al-Athır claims that ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s preoc-cupation with the affairs of Diyar Bakr aimed to delude the Franks ofEdessa that no danger awaited them. This brought Joscelin to leavethe town with his army. Thus, a war against Muslim rulers was instru-mental to achieving a higher goal: the conquest of Edessa. However,upon a closer reading of the universal history, it becomes evident thatcertain motifs appear in both of Ibn al-Athır’s works. The redemptivenature of the conquest of Edessa and, consequently, of the holy war assuch, is emphasized in both the universal history and the history of theAtabeks. This motif is introduced through a tale about a dream of acertain pious man who was told by ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı that the conquest

42Ibn al-Athır, al-Ta↩rıkh al-bahir, p. 39; idem, al-Kamil, vol. 8, p. 215.43Ibn al-Qalanisı, Dhayl, p. 279; Ibn al-Athır, al-Ta↩rıkh al-bahir, p. 66; idem,

al-Kamil, vol. 9, p. 293.


of Edessa brought him divine absolution. Ibn al-Athır’s allusion to jihadas redemptive has a long tradition in Islam. As has been pointed out byDavid Cook, it is referred to in the Qur↩an and became fully articulatedby ↪Abd Allah b. al-Mubarak (d. 767) who summarized the concept ofwar and sin by saying that “the sword wipes away sins.” By the time ofSaladin, as the Muslim warfare against the Franks intensified, in somecases, the execution of Frankish prisoners of war came to be regardedas purifying Muslim lands. Following the victory at H. ittın, this expla-nation was offered as a justification for the execution of the capturedHospitallers and Templars, killings that were carried out by religiousscholars (↪ulama↩).44

Ibn al-Athır’s presentation of ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı as inspired by jihadideology is unique. The contrast between Ibn al-Athır’s narrative andthat of Ibn al-Qalanisı is epitomized by their respective accounts of theevents of the year 531/1137, which was one of incessant warfare. ATurkmen force from Damascus successfully raided the county of Tripoli,while ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı besieged H. ims. in vain. This time, ↪Imad al-DınZankı was more successful fighting the Franks than the Muslims. He wentto besiege the fort of Barın (Montferrand), north of Orontes in the countyof Tripoli, and won a victory in a pitched battle against the Franks. Inthis battle, the Turks, meaning ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s professional cavalrymaintained by the iqt.a↪ system, sustained heavy losses when fleeing theFranks. However, another force hidden in ambush attacked the Frankishinfantry and baggage train. The main Frankish force pursuing the Turksalso sustained losses, and the Muslims took rich spoils.

Ibn al-Qalanisı’s account inspires confidence. Clearly, ↪Imad al-DınZankı adopted the classic twofold Turkish tactic of feigned retreat andambush, the aim of which was to expose the pursuers to attack by theforce in ambush. It is possible that the feigned retreat was badly exe-cuted, and the fleeing force suffered unexpected casualties. In any case,the Franks were defeated because of the separation between cavalry andinfantry, which on its own was incapable of withstanding the Muslimcavalry.

Following the victory, ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı besieged and conqueredBarın before the arrival of a Frankish relief force. On the same campaign,he also conquered Ma↪arrat al-Nu↪man and Kfar T. ab. Ibn al-Qalanisı’saccount of these events is devoid of any references to jihad, and the sameis true of Ibn al-Athır’s account in the universal history. The account inthe history of the Atabeks is long, imprecise, and embellished. ↪Imad al-

44Ibn al-Athır, al-Ta↩rıkh al-bahir, p. 70; idem, al-Kamil, vol. 9, pp. 291, 294, 295;Cook, Understanding Jihad, pp. 14–15; Sivan, L’Islam, pp. 62–63, Lev, “Prisoners ofwar,” p. 15. For the Christian perception of the Muslim as defiling by their presencethe Holy Land, see Hay, “Gender bias,” p. 6.

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Dın Zankı inspired his troops by references to jihad and God granted theMuslims a victory. The implied message seems to be: proper motivationsecures God’s favors.45

Ibn al-Athır’s discourse on ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s jihad is inconsistent.Given the differences between Ibn al-Athır’s two historical works, andthe long textual evolution of the work on the universal history, thisis hardly surprising. Furthermore, in the universal history, ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı is referred to as a state builder who vigorously expandedand defended his territories, fighting both Muslims and Franks. In thisrespect, Ibn al-Athır’s treatment of ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı is completelydifferent from his treatment of Nur al-Dın. Nur al-Dın’s political anddynastic ambitions are not mentioned by Ibn al-Athır at all. Whenreferring to ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s state, Ibn al-Athır avoids the termdawla (state, dynasty) and uses the term bilad (territories). However, inthis context, the term bilad has a clear political meaning. For example,the campaign of 541/1146–1147, which was waged against the Muslimrulers of Qal↪at Ja↪bar, north of the Euphrates in the Diyar Mud.ar region,and the Finik fort, on the Tigris, north of Jazırat Ibn ↪Umar, is describedas being motivated by the desire to remove the foreign presence (wa-kanasabab dhalika annahu kana la yurıdu an yakuna fı wasat. biladihi ma huwamulk ghayrihi) from the midst of ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s bilad. Both fortsresisted fiercely and ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı offered Salim b. Malik al-↪Uqaylı,the ruler of Qal↪at Ja↪bar, large sums of money and iqt.a↪s in exchangefor the surrender of the fort. Eventually, following ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’sassassination on 6 Rabı↪a II 541/15 September 1146, both sieges werelifted.46 The proposals made to the ruler of Qal↪at Ja↪bar highlight thefact that when fighting Muslims, the range of options available to ↪Imadal-Dın Zankı was wide. Territorial expansion could also be achievedthrough diplomacy and offers of generous surrender terms; fighting wasonly one of the options. Thus large-scale bloodshed in intra-Muslim warscould be avoided.

Perhaps the most balanced evaluation of ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s careeras state builder is offered by Ibn al-↪Adım. Although he praises ↪Imadal-Dın Zankı’s victories over the Franks, he does not depict him as a rulermotivated by the ideology of jihad. In fact, the term is not mentionedat all. He is described as one who brought Frankish aggression to a halt,and paved the way for the conquest of their territories. Above all, ↪Imadal-Dın Zankı is referred to as a succor sent by God to protect Aleppo, amission continued by his progeny. These praises came after a short and

45Ibn al-Qalanisı, Dhayl, pp. 258–259; Ibn al-Athır, al-Kamil, vol. 9, pp. 262–263;idem, al-Ta↩rıkh al-bahir, pp. 59–61.

46Ibn al-Athır, al-Kamil, vol. 9, pp. 300–301; Elisseeff, Nur al-Dın, vol. 2, pp.383–386.


dry remark referring to ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s carving out a patrimonyby seizing Muslim towns and conquering places held by the Franks.47

4 Nur al-Dın the sultan of Syria

4.1 The young prince Nur al-Dın

In 1146, upon the assassination of ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı, Nur al-Dın tookcontrol of Aleppo while his brother, Sayf al-Dın Ghazı, established him-self in Mosul. How well prepared Nur al-Dın was for the role of ruleris an intriguing question, especially as Ibn al-Furat (1334–1405), rely-ing on Ibn Abı T. ayy (1179–1232), depicts the young prince as a drinkerwho visited drinking dens and befriended commoners, some of whomlater became the cornerstones of his regime. Furthermore, according tothis account, Nur al-Dın, the champion of Sunnı Islam, manifested Shı↪ıtendencies early on in his life. Ibn Abı T. ayy’s account, however, lacksany references to dates and we are left in the dark as to when exactlythis stage in Nur al-Dın’s life was. The references to Nur al-Dın’s un-orthodox early lifestyle appear in the obituary of the emir Majd al-Dınb. Daya. According to Ibn Abı T. ayy, he and his brother were poor shoe-makers with whom Nur al-Dın used to drink and spend nights in derelictbuildings.

One should not expect Ibn al-Athır to include such information inhis writings. He, following Ibn al-Azraq, refers to Ibn Daya as Nur al-Dın’s milk brother. In passing, Ibn al-↪Adım refers to emir Majd al-Dınas Muh.ammad b. Muh.ammad b. Nushtakın, indicating that he was ofTurkish extraction. Both Ibn Abı T. ayy and Ibn al-Athır agree that IbnDaya was one of Nur al-Dın’s leading emirs, if not the highest-rankingone. Nur al-Dın’s loyalty to Ibn Daya’s extended family was demon-strated in 565/1169–1170 when, upon Ibn Daya’s death, he transferredIbn Daya’s iqt.a↪ to his brother.48

The sources do not report whether Nur al-Dın received any formaltraining that prepared him for rule. Sibt. b. al-Jawzı, for example, claimsthat Nur al-Dın was the preferred son and that his father discerned signsindicating his future greatness. It seems that during ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’sreign, Nur al-Dın enjoyed a higher position than his brother, Sayf al-Dınal-Ghazı. Nur al-Dın was established in Aleppo while al-Ghazı heldShahrazur as an iqt.a↪ and following the death of his father was brought

47Ibn al-↪Adım, Bughyat al-t.alab, vol. 8, pp. 3845–3846.48Ibn al-Furat, Ta↩rıkh, vol. 4, pt. 1, pp. 106–108; Ibn al-Athır, al-Kamil, vol. 9,

pp. 441, 458; Ibn al-Azraq, Ta↩rıkh Mayyafariqın wa-Amid, p. 193; Ibn al-↪Adım,Bughyat al-t.alab, vol. 6, p. 2745.

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to Mosul by Zayn al-Dın ↪Alı Kucuk, ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s deputy inMosul. The death of Zankı shattered the political unity of the Zankıdstate. Nur al-Dın took control of Syria, including Aleppo, H. ims., Hama,Manbij, and H. arran, while Sayf al-Dın Ghazı became the ruler of Mosuland Diyar Rabı↪a. The fragmentation of the Zankid state was not onlygeographical; it also extended to the ruling elite: various members of theelite identified themselves either with Nur al-Dın or Sayf al-Dın Ghazı.49

It seems that Nur al-Dın was better prepared to rule. His response tothe attempt to re-take Edessa after the assassination of his father wasswift and determined. Ibn al-Athır writes that following Nur al-Dın’scampaign, the population of Edessa dwindled.50

4.2 Expansionism and state building

Nur al-Dın’s greatest territorial achievements involved the conquest ofDamascus and Egypt and bringing Mosul under his direct rule. Theplain truth is that Nur al-Dın’s conquest of Frankish territories was farless significant than that of Muslim territories. He created a large statethat encompassed the key Muslim territories of Syria, and although ithad no access to the sea, it held sway over the major inland towns andan extensive agricultural hinterland. Nur al-Dın’s dynastic ambitionsmust have been clear to his contemporaries. Ibn al-Qalanisı, in contrastto Ibn al-Athır who ignores this issue, refers to Nur al-Dın’s state as al-dawla al-sa ↪ıda (the felicitous state/dynasty).51 The text most essentialto understanding expansionism and state building in the context of thetwelfth century is perhaps Sibt. b. al-Jawzı’s long obituary of Nur al-Dın.Sibt. b. al-Jawzı was not a Zankid panegyrist. He quotes long sectionsderived from both Ibn ↪Asakir and Ibn al-Athır, but also makes his ownobservations. Such observations and the way Sibt. b. al-Jawzı used thematerials supplied by others make this text an original contribution andnot just a derivative.

Sibt. b. al-Jawzı begins by quoting Ibn ↪Asakir’s statement that Nural-Dın was raised in a good and righteous way that involved reading theQur↩an and performing devotional practices, paying little attention tomilitary affairs. Although this statement is presented as a quotation, itcannot be traced back to Ibn ↪Asakir’s obituary of Nur al-Dın (certainlynot the description of Nur al-Dın as “paying little attention to militaryaffairs” in his youth). More than anything, it seems to be a refutation

49Ibn al-Qalanisı, Dhayl, p. 288; Ibn al-Azraq, Ta↩rıkh Mayyafariqın wa-Amid, pp.192–193; Sibt. b. al-Jawzı, Mir ↩at al-zaman, vol. 8, pt. 2, p. 305.

50Ibn al-Athır, al-Kamil, vol. 9, pp. 303–304; Elisseeff, Nur al-Dın, vol. 2, pp.398–400.

51Ibn al-Qalanisı, Dhayl, p. 336.


of Ibn Abı T. ayy’s claims about Nur al-Dın’s boyhood debauchery. Sibt.b. al-Jawzı lists some of the places Nur al-Dın conquered, especially inthe county of Edessa. He mentions his military triumphs over the Franksas well as the spoils and prisoners he captured. Then comes the followingstatement:

And his kingdom spread. He conquered Mosul, Jazıra, DiyarBakr, Syria, the ↪Awas. im [meaning the former border areabetween Muslim Syria and Byzantium], Damascus, Ba↪la-bakk, Baniyas, Egypt and Yemen. His name was mentionedin the Friday sermons worldwide. He manifested the Sunna inAleppo, abolished the Shı↪ı call for prayer, and built endowedlaw colleges there.

The rest of the text is devoted to reports specifying Nur al-Dın’s virtues,policies, and deeds. Sibt. b. al-Jawzı makes no independent remarksabout Nur al-Dın’s jihad. Jihad is only mentioned indirectly througha quotation from Ibn al-Athır which deals with Nur al-Dın’s justice,asceticism, jihad, and virtues. This issue is again referred to at the endof the text by quoting Ibn al-Athır who had stated that Nur al-Dın wasdisappointed by Saladin’s lack of zeal in fighting the Franks. This iscontrasted with Nur al-Dın’s determination to free Jerusalem and to putan end to the Frankish presence in Syria (the term used is sawah. il, thecoastal regions).52

Sibt. b. al-Jawzı’s remark about the territorial scope of Nur al-Dın’sstate highlights the need to examine Nur al-Dın’s military methods. Theconquest of Damascus and Egypt, for example, shared some common fea-tures and reveal Nur al-Dın’s modus operandi when dealing with Muslimadversaries. The seizure of Damascus was a long-standing Zankid goal,which ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı failed to achieve. Damascus had a long tradi-tion of local patriotism and resistance to foreign attempts of conquest.The population of Damascus bitterly resisted the Fat.imı occupation inthe 970s and, in 1025, resolutely fought a Bedouin attempt to subject thetown. The ability of Damascus to fight for its independence was due toits social structure, namely the existence of an indigenous class of nota-bles (a↪yan) and town militia (ah. dath), which were two long-establishedelements of the local society. The notables provided leadership and theah. dath — made up of the urban lower class and the rural populationof the Ghut.a, the agricultural belt of orchards around the town — pro-vided military power. Relying on its urban resources, Damascus resisted

52Sibt. b. al-Jawzı, Mir ↩at al-zaman, vol. 8, pt. 2, pp. 305–306, 307, 321. Sibt.b. al-Jawzı claims that Nur al-Dın composed a book about jihad but perhaps whathe really meant was Ibn ↪Asakir’s book about jihad. See p. 313.

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Zankid attempts at conquest. For example, in the winter of 534/1139,when ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı besieged Damascus, the ah. dath took the bruntof the fighting and suffered heavy losses. Eventually, the help of theKingdom of Jerusalem was sought and the town had the financial re-sources to enlist military assistance, while members of the ruling elitegave the Franks hostages in order to secure the fulfillment of their obli-gations. The Frankish assistance came at a price: following ↪Imad al-DınZankı’s withdrawal, Damascus and Jerusalem besieged Baniyas, whichwas conquered and ceded to the Kingdom.53

↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’s failure to seize Damascus did not deter hisson. Nur al-Dın was determined to conquer Damascus and he wageda war of attrition against the town, which culminated in its surrenderin 549/1154. In 544/1149, Nur al-Dın’s drive against Damascus forcedits leaders once again to seek the help of the Kingdom of Jerusalem.However, Nur al-Dın was not deterred. According to Ibn al-Qalanisı,only heavy rains prevented his all-out attack on the town. In the sameyear, Mu↪in al-Dın Unur, the de facto ruler of Damascus, died, and this,in the long term, played into Nur al-Dın’s hands. Nur al-Dın’s relationswith Unur were complex: he married Unur’s daughter but failed to as-sist Damascus against the armies of the Second Crusade (it must beremembered, however, that the actual fighting around Damascus lastedonly four days, 24–28 July 1148). After 544/1149, Nur al-Dın’s policytoward Damascus became more aggressive. Nevertheless Nur al-Dın’sdrive against Damascus was restrained and cautious. He was fully awarethat a full-scale attack on the town was perilous and that widespreadbloodshed would be counter-productive to the achievement of his aims.54

In 546/1151 and 548/1153, Nur al-Dın starved Damascus by cutting offits grain supplies but, eventually, only direct military actions broughtabout the surrender of the town in 549/1154.

Damascene resistance to the Zankid attempts of conquest, relying onthe assistance of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, highlights another aspect ofthe twelfth-century Muslim Middle East: the integration of the Franksinto the political fabric of the region. When discussing jihad, it is onlytoo easy and tempting to ignore the broader political picture of theEastern Mediterranean. In contrast to Byzantium, which usually playedthe role of an outside foreign force, intimidating both the Muslims andthe Franks, the Franks were part of the local political puzzle and militarycooperation with them had become acceptable.

Nur al-Dın’s campaigns against Damascus also highlight another as-

53Ibn al-Qalanisı, Dhayl, pp. 271–272.54Ibn al-Qalanisı, Dhayl, pp. 306, 308–310; Abu Shama, Kitab al-rawd. atayn, vol.

1, p. 222.


pect of his expansionist policies directed against Muslim adversaries;namely, a preference for diplomacy, combined with subversion aimed atundermining the opponent. The beginnings of Nur al-Dın’s drive againstDamascus went back to Unur’s initiative against Zankid possessions inthe region. In the winter of 1146, immediately after ↪Imad al-Dın Zankı’sdeath, Unur besieged Ba↪labakk which was held by al-Zankı’s governor,Najm al-Dın Ayyub, Saladin’s father. Najm al-Dın Ayyub surrenderedthe town for money and iqt.a↪ and moved to Damascus. The surrender ofBa↪labakk was not surprising, but Najm al-Dın Ayyub’s move to Dam-ascus raises the question of his loyalty. Elisseeff describes Najm al-DınAyyub as Nur al-Dın’s agent in Damascus; one might say he was a fifthcolumn. Najm al-Dın Ayyub’s brother Asad al-Dın Shırkuh was Nural-Dın’s leading emir. In 546/1151, both brothers were engaged in anattempt to bring about an understanding between Nur al-Dın and therulers of Damascus, conducting the negotiations on Nur al-Dın’s behalf.Undoubtedly, Najm al-Dın Ayyub’s sojourn in Damascus served Nural-Dın’s interests.55

There are some similarities between Nur al-Dın’s efforts to conquerDamascus and his first invasion of Egypt. Nur al-Dın’s involvement inthe internal affairs of Fat.imı Egypt took place in 1164 after the arrivalof Shawar, the deposed Fat.imı vizier, in Damascus. Shawar promised toshare Egypt’s wealth with Nur al-Dın. Nur al-Dın’s second and third in-vasions of Egypt were motivated by his disappointment with Shawar and,more significantly, by economic and strategic considerations: the wishto tap the resources of Egypt and to prevent the Kingdom of Jerusalemfrom gaining a foothold there. From Nur al-Dın’s point of view, theconquest of Egypt brought him nothing because of the Ayyubı quest forindependence. The sources indicate that after 1171, Nur al-Dın was con-sidering invading Egypt and dislodging the Ayyubıs. He certainly wasaware of the difficulties involved in dispatching an army to Egypt andhow unpredictable the results could be. The sources are quite evasiveabout Nur al-Dın’s preparations for invading Egypt and whether anyconcrete steps were taken.

When fighting Muslim opponents, Nur al-Dın’s preferred method wasto use dissidents, or agents, to undermine the opponent from within.This pattern is revealed by Nur al-Dın’s involvement, in 567–569/1171–1173, in the affairs of Muslim Asia Minor. The events took a familiarcourse: Nur al-Dın intervened on behalf of the Danishmandı ruler Dhual-Nun, who had sought refuge with him following the conquest of histerritories by Qılıj Arsalan, the Seljukid sultan of Rum. There was

55Ibn al-Qalanisı, Dhayl, pp. 287–288, 298, 316, 327; Ibn al-Athır, al-Kamil, vol. 9,p. 307; Elisseeff, Nur al-Dın, vol. 2, p. 402.

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continuous warfare between the Seljuks of Rum and the Danishmandıs.Ibn al-Athır, for example, refers to the 560/1164–1165 war between thetwo states as fitna (meaning, in this context, harmful Muslim internecinewar), revealing his strong disapproval. Usually, when referring to intra-Muslim warfare, Ibn al-Athır remains non-judgmental and, in Nur al-Dın’s case, his wars against fellow Muslims are presented as a precursor ofjihad. For instance, the conquest of Damascus by Nur al-Dın is depictedas a prerequisite for waging an effective holy war against the Kingdomof Jerusalem. In 1171, the confrontation between Nur al-Dın and QılıjArsalan was avoided and, in 1172, Dhu al-Nun was installed as governorof Sivas. A new round of hostilities between the two states eruptedin 1173. Nur al-Dın went to assist Qılıj Arsalan’s uncle who soughtrefuge at his court. He crossed the Taurus mountains and was ready toengage Qılıj Arsalan. Claude Cahen explains Nur al-Dın’s involvementin the affairs of the Muslim states in Anatolia as a result of the successfulconsolidation of the conquest of Egypt. In fact, Nur al-Dın’s involvementin Egypt did not hamper his freedom of action in the North. Once forceshad been dispatched to Egypt, they had to fend for themselves, andNur al-Dın was unable to reinforce them or to influence the course ofevents in Egypt in any other way. One can even argue that Nur al-Dın’sinvolvement in Anatolia was a reflection of his disappointment with theresults of the Egyptian campaign and being deprived of its fruits bySaladin. In any case, as has been pointed out by Cahen, Nur al-Dınhad second thoughts about his new adventure which took him far awayfrom Syria, and negotiated a settlement with Qılıj Arsalan. Ibn al-Athırexplains Nur al-Dın’s peace treaty with Qılıj Arsalan as motivated bythe desire to enlist his help in the holy war against Christendom.56

As demonstrated by the case of Mosul, intra-family relations did notrestrain Nur al-Dın’s quest for territorial expansion. The division of theZankid state between Aleppo and Mosul lasted until 566/1171, whenNur al-Dın annexed Mosul to his territories. Ibn al-Athır’s descriptionof the political situation in Zankid Mosul raises many questions. Sayfal-Dın al-Ghazı died in 544/1149 and was succeeded by his brother Qut.bal-Dın Mawdud. Ibn al-Athır claims that al-Ghazı’s son was under Nural-Dın’s care (or supervision) and that he brought him up and marriedhim off to Mawdud’s daughter. However, the son died young and thisfamily line died out.57 Ibn al-Athır describes the relations between Nural-Dın and Mawdud as competitive. For example, in 562/1167, upon

56Ibn al-Athır, al-Ta↩rıkh al-bahir, pp. 158–159; al-Kamil, vol. 9, pp. 429–430,466–467, vol. 10, pp. 21–22. For the complex relations between Nur al-Dın and theMuslim rulers of Asia Minor, see Cahen, The formation of Turkey, pp. 27–28; idem,Pre-Ottoman Turkey, pp. 96–106.

57Ibn al-Athır, al-Ta↩rıkh al-bahir, p. 92; al-Kamil, vol. 9, p. 320.


the death of Qara Arsalan b. Dawud b. Suqman, the Artuqid ruler ofH. is.n Kayfa, Nur al-Dın secured the safe succession of rule to his sonand foiled Mawdud’s attempt to seize H. is.n Kayfa and other territoriesin Diyar al-Bakr. Nur al-Dın’s policy is explained as a response to QaraArsalan’s plea invoking their friendship, which was based on fightingthe holy war together. The salient feature of Ibn al-Athır’s descriptionof Mawdud’s rule is that he was merely a nominal ruler of his state.Mawdud’s rise to power in Mosul was due to the cooperation betweenthe vizier Jamal al-Dın b. ↪Alı al-Isfahanı and the emir Zayn al-Dın ↪AlıKucuk. In 558/1163, Mawdud arrested Jamal al-Dın, who died a yearlater in prison. Ibn al-Athır’s long obituary of Jamal al-Dın is a eulogy,praising his personal qualities and administration. He is described asthe epitome of piety, charity, and as one who cared for the Holy Citiesof Arabia. One can only wonder whether the eulogy of Jamal al-Dınimplied criticism of Mawdud; the vizier was more meritorious than theruler whom he served and who imprisoned him.58

In 563/1168, due to old age, Zayn al-Dın ↪Alı Kucuk, left the terri-tories he controlled such as Shahrazur, the Hakkariyya region, includingal-↪Imadiyya fort, Takrıt, Sinjar, and H. arran to Mawdud, keeping onlyIrbil for himself. If indeed Zayn al-Dın controlled all these territories,one is left to wonder which territories were under Mawdud’s rule. Ibnal-Athır seems to imply that Mawdud’s authority extended only overMosul. Mawdud died in 565/1170 and was succeeded by his son Sayf al-Dın al-Ghazı II. However, the real power was in the hands of the vizier,the eunuch Fakhr al-Dın ↪Abd al-Masıh. , who was of Christian origin andkept his religion. He had ousted ↪Imad al-Dın II, another of Mawdud’ssons, who sought refuge with Nur al-Dın. Nur al-Dın’s campaign againstMosul was assisted by the ruler of H. is.n al-Kayfa and crowned with suc-cess. However, ↪Imad al-Dın II was not installed in Mosul. Instead hewas given Sanjar, and the regime that Nur al-Dın established in Mosulresembled the one he had toppled: the eunuch Kumushtakın was put incharge of Mosul’s citadel, and he had absolute power over Sayf al-Dınal-Ghazı II.59

58Ibn al-Athır, al-Ta↩rıkh al-bahir, pp. 96–97; al-Kamil, vol. 9, p. 438.59Ibn al-Athır, al-Ta↩rıkh al-bahir, pp. 94, 118–119, 127–130, 135–136; al-Kamil,

vol. 9, pp. 455–456, 461; Elisseeff, Nur al-Dın, vol. 2, pp. 657–662; Tabbaa, “Themosque of Nur al-Dın,” pp. 340–343.

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5 Jihad and military history

5.1 Muslim-Frankish warfare

Ibn ↪Asakir’s depiction of Nur al-Dın as a warrior of the holy war isphrased in general terms without any specific references to a concretejihad policy. Whether Nur al-Dın indeed had such a policy is a matterof interpretation. However, Nur al-Dın’s jihad policy, if it existed atall, must be discussed within a broader framework of military history,focusing on three topics: 1) the military realities of Muslim-Frankishwarfare; 2) Nur al-Dın’s military resources; and 3) his wars with theFranks.

Nur al-Dın’s commitment or lack thereof to the holy war was notonly an ideological or political issue. It was also related to his abilityto wage war in general and against the Franks in particular. One mustnot overlook the fact that Muslim armies encountered many difficultieswhen fighting the Franks. Whatever the impact of jihad ideology onMuslim rulers and society, in military terms, the effective execution ofjihad ideology was a daunting task. Muslim and Frankish armies of thetwelfth-century Middle East were constructed differently and fought dif-ferently. The Frankish armies were characterized by a close cooperationbetween infantry and cavalry and a charge delivered by heavy cavalry;the Muslims, on the other hand, employed mounted archery and triedto overwhelm the enemy with massive volleys of arrows.

Mutual adaptations whereby Muslims incorporated some heavy cav-alry into their forces and Franks employed light mounted archers, did notalter the basic patterns of warfare on either side. The issue of mutualadaptation also involves the question of infantry. Infantry had tradition-ally been integral part of medieval Muslim armies. Nevertheless, in theMuslim armies of twelfth-century Syria, the infantry was relegated to aninferior position within the overall military structure. The clear prefer-ence was for an all-cavalry force. It was not a question of the absence ofinfantry, but of its military role. In 532/1138, for example, ↪Imad al-DınZankı sent foot archers (nashiba) and arbalests (nabbala) to assist Aleppowhich had come under a short Byzantine siege.60 However, in contrastto Frankish military practice, Muslim infantry was rarely employed incoordination with cavalry on the battlefield. The Franks were famousfor close coordination of this kind during battles and when marchingthrough hostile territories. Among the Muslim states of the EasternMediterranean, only the Fat.imıs maintained large infantry forces but,when facing the Franks, they failed to put a cohesive infantry-cavalry

60Ibn al-Qalanisı, Dhayl, p. 265; France, “Crusading warfare,” pp. 49–66.


force on the battlefield.61 Both methods of fighting had their advantagesand limitations, but neither side enjoyed manifest military superiority.Battles always involved hard fighting and victories were secured againstgreat odds.

The realities of the Muslim-Frankish wars are nicely illustrated bytwo accounts of Ibn al-Qalanisı and Ibn al-Athır, which also reflectthe relative strength and weakness of both sides. In early summer of543/1149, the Kingdom of Jerusalem launched attacks on the territory(↪amal) of Damascus from Tyre and Acre.62 Mu↪in al-Dın Unur, thede facto ruler of Damascus, moved to H. awran, trying to enlist the sup-port of the Bedouins and Turkmen who came in great numbers. He sentthe Turkmen to raid the territories of the Kingdom of Jerusalem and,in Muh. arram 544/May–June 1149, a truce between the Kingdom andUnur was re-established. Simultaneously, or shortly after these events,the Franks of Antioch invaded the territory of Aleppo and, at the begin-ning of S. afar 544/June–July 1149, Unur sent a force to Nur al-Dın whilehe remained in the H. awran to ensure the supply of grain to Damascus,for which the cooperation and goodwill of the Bedouins were essential.

When Nur al-Dın assembled his army, which consisted of his ownforces, Turkmen, and Unur’s contingent, he invaded the territory of An-tioch. His army, which was an all-cavalry force of 6,000, found itselffighting against a Frankish force of 1,000 infantry and 400 cavalry re-ferred to as faris t.a↪↪ana. The term t.a↪↪ana (literally meaning those whopierce) used by Ibn al-Qalanisı is rare, if not unique, and certainly meansa cavalry force fighting with lances. It can be understood as alluding toa heavy Frankish cavalry force. The ensuing battle was marked by the“famous charge of the infidels against the Muslims.” The cavalry chargewas aimed at gaining victory and constituted one of the Frankish adap-tations to warfare in the Middle East. It was more frequently used inthe Latin East than in Europe. In this battle, the Muslims dispersedand then encircled and defeated the Franks.63

This account clearly demonstrates that the Franks became knownfor their cavalry charge, or shock tactics, but it had its limitations, es-pecially when Muslims enjoyed great numerical superiority (as was thecase in this battle). The issue of Muslim numerical superiority is alsoillustrated by the events of 565/1170. In that year the Artuqı ruler ofBıra, Shihab al-Dın Ilyas, travelled with 200 cavalry (faris) to join Nur

61For Frankish infantry, see Smail, Crusading warfare, pp. 115–120, 175–177; Ben-nett, “The Crusaders’ ‘Fighting march’ ,” pp. 1–18. For Muslim infantry, see Lev,“Infantry,” pp. 185–209.

62Ibn al-Qalanisı does not refer to the Crusader Kingdom by any particular nameand alludes to it as the Franks of Tyre, Acre and the other coastal towns.

63Ibn al-Qalanisı, Dhayl, pp. 304–305; France, “The Crusades,” pp. 350–351.

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al-Dın’s army. In the vicinity of Ba↪labakk, they encountered a detach-ment of 300 Frankish faris and a fierce battle ensued, which is describedby Ibn al-Athır as follows:

Both parties held their ground, especially the Muslims.Would not 1,000 Muslim faris withstand the charge of 300Frankish faris? Many were killed on both sides, especiallyamong the Franks who were defeated, killed, and captured.Only the insignificant among the Franks escaped.64

The term faris as applied to both the Artuqı force and the Franks mustbe understood as meaning heavy cavalry fighting with the lance. Ibn al-Athır’s exclamation “would not 1,000 Muslim faris withstand the chargeof 300 Frankish faris?” indicates that, in this case, Muslim numericalsuperiority was narrow and the victory was barely won. How Shihabal-Dın’s force grew to 1,000 cavalry remains unexplained. Perhaps theMuslim cavalry was made up of both heavy cavalry and mounted archers.

Although Muslim historians provide no information as to whetherMuslim or Christian heavy cavalry employed the ‘couched lance’ tech-nique, Muslim horsemen did fight with the lance. The best source of in-formation about lance combat is Usama b. Munqidh (1095–1188). How-ever, his descriptions refer to duels between horsemen or clashes betweensmall cavalry detachments. We have no information about the size andscope of heavy cavalry contingents fighting with the lance in the Muslimarmies of twelfth-century Syria.65 The cavalry charge was a powerfultactical tool perfected by the Franks and, apparently, little used, if atall, by the Muslims. The execution of the charge, however, was a mostdemanding task and its effectiveness dependent on the circumstancesprevailing on the battlefield. The Muslim response to the cavalry chargeinvolved the opening of the ranks to allow the enemy to pass through.The cavalry charge was not a decisive stratagem but neither was theMuslim’s use of mounted archery. The Franks were capable of with-standing repeated attacks by Muslim mounted archers by keeping theirranks tight and by employing archers and, especially, crossbowmen.66

Upon reading Arabic sources, one gets the strong impression of a mili-tary stalemate with no side enjoying overall military supremacy in thetwelfth century.

64Ibn al-Athır, al-Kamil, vol. 9, pp. 454–455.65For the couched lance technique, see Nicolle, “The impact,” pp. 14–16. For

Usama b. Munqidh’s descriptions, see Lev, “Infantry,” pp. 196–197; Bennett, “Whychivalry?,” pp. 53–54.

66For the delivery of the cavalry charge, see Bennett, “La Regle du Temple,” pp.7–19. For its use in battles, see Marshall, “The use of the charge,” pp. 221–226;Bennett, “The myth,” pp. 311–312.


5.2 Nur al-Dın’s military resources

The armies of Muslim rulers of twelfth century Syria were small. Theveracity of Ibn al-Qalanisı’s claim, that Nur al-Dın’s army was 30,000strong in 546/1151, is highly doubtful.67 This information, which relieson a military review held in that year, is unreliable and the data ismuch inflated. The review aimed at impressing and intimidating therulers of Damascus, and Ibn al-Qalanisı repeated information circulatedas part of Nur al-Dın’s propaganda. I would argue that the most reliableand significant information about Nur al-Dın’s army refers to the forcedispatched in 564/1169 to Egypt. It consisted of 2,000 cavalry of Nural-Dın’s ↪askar, and 5,000–6,000 Turkmen recruited among the Turkishnomadic population of Syria. The term ↪askar refers to Nur al-Dın’sregular force maintained through the iqt.a↪ system. The 1169 expeditionto Egypt was commanded by Shırkuh, the iqt.a↪ holder of H. ims., who alsobrought his private regiment, the Asadiyya. Although the composition ofthe Asadiyya corps remains obscure, it might have consisted of Turkishmilitary slaves as has been suggested by David Ayalon. In addition,Nur al-Dın supplied pack animals, weapons, and 200,000 dınars. TheTurkmen were the largest segment of the force dispatched to Egypt, butthe ↪askar and the Asadiyya made up its core. Militarily, the Turkmenwere mounted archers but the ↪askar and Asadiyya were most probablyheavy cavalry fighting with the lance or, one should say, also with thelance. It was an all-cavalry force, and the absence of infantry is notsurprising since it was impossible to move them across the desert fromSyria to Egypt.68

In 1169, Nur al-Dın was almost at the zenith of his power and wecan assume that the overall strength of his ↪askar was at least 4,000-5,000 troops. The forces available to Nur al-Dın, as the sultan of Syria,were, however, larger than his ↪askar. The 1169 campaign to Egyptexemplifies certain fundamental aspects of the military organization ofNur al-Dın’s state. Nur al-Dın’s ability to conduct a number of parallelmilitary campaigns during one summer was due to the splitting of his↪askar into several forces, each augmented by the forces of his allies,vassals and Turkmen. Each force was made up of several elements, anda great deal of travelling was required before each was assembled andgiven an assignment.

Any attempt to broaden the discussion of Nur al-Dın’s overall mili-tary resources, beyond a certain case study, is fraught with many difficul-

67Ibn al-Qalanisı, Dhayl, p. 315, repeated by Abu Shama, Kitab al-rawd. atayn, vol.1, p. 267.

68Ibn al-Athır, al-Ta↩rıkh al-bahir, p. 139; Gibb, “The armies,” pp. 74, 81; Ayalon,“Aspects of the Mamluk phenomenon,” p. 17.

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ties. Economic data about twelfth-century Syria are difficult to obtainand our knowledge of the rural and urban demography and the levelof economic activity in the region is fragmentary.69 Due to the lack ofconcrete information, we are reduced to some speculations, or educatedguesses, about what could have been the military resources available toNur al-Dın. The key factor which determined Nur al-Dın’s military re-sources was the size and geographical nature of his state. Nur al-Dın’sstate was composed of rural and urban territories ruled directly by him,and territories given as iqt.a↪ to emirs. Independent rulers also providedmilitary forces to Nur al-Dın. This was due to political considerationsor was a manifestation of political subordination.

The notion that the productivity of agricultural land is measured andexpressed by the number of troops it can support was deeply embeddedin twelfth-century administrative practice and is widely attested to bythe sources. For example, the Coptic chronicler al-Makın b. al-↪Amıd(1205–1273) refers to the appointment (627/1230) of the T. awashı Shamsal-Dın al-↪Adalı as the deputy of the Ayyubı sultan al-Kamil of Egyptin Syria and Mesopotamia. He reports that Shams al-Dın was given anew iqt.a↪ that supported 100 cavalry, and the overall value of his iqt.a↪

holdings in Egypt and the East was worth 350 cavalry.70 The extent ofShams al-Dın’s military obligations toward the sultan was expressed bythe iqt.a↪s conferred on him. ↪Izz al-Dın b. Shaddad, in his geographicalhistory of Syria and the Jazıra, quite frequently refers to income derivedfrom a certain place in terms of cavalry troops. For instance, he relatesthe history of Tell Bashir under the Franks and Nur al-Dın and concludesby saying that in his own time the tax income derived from the placewas equal to the support of 200 cavalry. No figures are quoted, but weshould assume that his contemporary readers must have known whatthe costs of maintaining one mounted soldier were.71 Within this broadframework, two things can be stated with some confidence: the size ofNur al-Dın’s ↪askar was a function of the territories directly ruled byhim, and the number of Turkmen hired for summer campaigns was areflection of the cash income and reserves he had at his disposal. Onemust not forget that military expenditures were only one budgetary item

69For economic data, see Yusuf, Economic survey, pp. 109–183. However, demog-raphy is not dealt with by Yusuf.

70Al-Makın, “La chronique des ayyoubides,” p. 139. The term T. awashı poses aproblem. In the Mamluk period it denoted a eunuch. In the Ayyubı period, however,when a certain t.awashı happened to be a eunuch, the sources take the trouble to statethis explicitly. In Saladin’s army, the T. awashı were a well armed and highly paidcavalry troops. For the Mamluk period, see Ayalon, “The eunuchs,” pp. 267–268.For Saladin and the Ayyubı period, see Edde, Saladin, pp. 499–500; Elbeheiry, Lesinstitutions, pp. 61–66; Lev, Saladin, pp. 143–144, 146.

71Ibn Shaddad, Al-A↪laq al-khat.ıra, p. 377.


in Nur al-Dın’s overall expenditures.In this respect, a most illuminating account is provided by William

of Tyre. He lamented the fall of the County of Edessa, describing theeconomic potential of the region, adding that it could sustain 500 knights.Unintentionally, William of Tyre reminds us about the link betweeneconomy and warfare. The economic cost of equipping and supportingheavy cavalry was staggering, a fact of which William of Tyre was mostsurely aware. He is very precise when describing the armament of cavalryforces and makes a clear distinction between heavy and light cavalry. Thehigh cost of maintaining heavy cavalry is illustrated by Saladin’s militaryreforms introduced in 1171 in Egypt after the fall of the Fat.imıs. Saladinpartly destroyed, and mostly dispersed, the 50,000–70,000 strong blackinfantry force of the fallen Fat.imı regime. Using the economic resourcesof the collapsed Fat.imı state, he replaced the old Fat.imı army witha new small all-cavalry force whose backbone was made up of heavycavalry. The maintenance of a small heavy cavalry force vastly exceededthe costs of upkeep of a very large infantry force. The expenses involvedwere not of the same magnitude — heavy cavalry was many times moreexpensive. William of Tyre’s account and Saladin’s experience in Egyptexplain why the heavy cavalry forces in the Latin East and Nur al-Dın’s↪askar were so small and had to be supplemented by cheaper militarymanpower such as infantry, Turcopoles (light cavalry in the service ofthe Franks), and Arab and Turkish nomads.72

Unfortunately, our knowledge of the Turkmen, meaning the Turk-ish Middle Eastern nomadic and semi-nomadic world, is as deficient asthat of the rural and urban societies. During the second half of theeleventh century, Turkish nomadic tribes entered into the Muslim landsof the Middle East as well as Byzantine Asia Minor. The life of theurban, rural, and nomadic population of Syria was greatly affected bythis influx of Turkish nomads. The settlement of the Turkmen in Syriais nicely reflected by Ibn Khallikan’s short biographical note of Yarukal-Turkumanı, who died in Muh.arram 564/October-September 1168. Hesettled the Yarukı tribe south of Aleppo on the banks of a small wadı.The settlement they established resembled a village and became popularwith the people of Aleppo.73 This case illustrated a peaceful integrationof the newcomers into the existing social matrix, but such migratorymovement had its disruptive potential and many, if not most, of theTurkish nomads in the Middle East and Asia Minor found employment asmercenaries whose services were enlisted for both intra-Muslim warfareand, later during the twelfth century, the wars against the Franks. The

72William of Tyre, vol. 2, pp. 331, 430–431; Lev, Saladin, pp. 143–146, 148–150.73Ibn Khallikan, Wafayat al-a↪yan, vol. 6, pp. 117–118.

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sources contain no information about the relations between Bedouins,the traditional Middle Eastern nomads, and the Turkmen. As has beenpointed out by Heidemann, Bedouins and Turkmen competed for land,but whether the Turkmen indeed marginalized the Bedouins and broughtabout their demise is a matter open for discussion.74 Regarding the mil-itary role of the Bedouins, Latin sources offer two different testimonies.William of Tyre stated that the Arabs — meaning Bedouins — foughtonly with the lance. However, Joinville, who participated in St. Louis’Crusade against Damietta in 1258, wrote that Bedouins fought as cav-alry employing only the sword and had no armor.75 Whatever the casemay be, it seems that in the context of the warfare in twelfth-centurySyria, the Bedouins had less to offer than the Turkmen. Therefore, theywere enlisted less frequently for military campaigns and less frequentlyreferred to in the sources.

5.3 Nur al-Dın’s wars with the Franks

In twelfth-century Europe, avoiding direct confrontation with the enemywas the rule. However, as has been pointed out by John France, one ofthe modifications that took place in the European style of warfare inthe Latin East involved a greater readiness to enter into major battlesagainst the Muslims. Although most of the habitual summer warfarebetween the Muslims and Franks in the Middle East involved raids andskirmishes, major battles were fought, and it is difficult to ascertainwhether Muslim military leaders were reluctant to enter into battlesagainst the Franks. Ibn ↪Asakir extolled Nur al-Dın for his valor in battle— implying that he led the attacks against the enemy and covered hismen in retreat — and military prowess, especially archery. Whether Nural-Dın led his troops in attacks in person is beyond verification but, likeother leaders of that time, he participated in campaigns and suffered theattendant difficulties and hazards alongside the troops.

Nur al-Dın’s personal involvement in warfare is best illustrated bythe events of 543–544/1148–1149. In 543/1148, Nur al-Dın fought theFranks twice. With the help of forces from Mosul, he conquered a fortin the vicinity of Aleppo and, in the same year, invaded the territory ofAntioch. This incursion went badly: Nur al-Dın was surprised by theFranks and hastily retreated to Aleppo, abandoning the baggage train.This was a typical incident characteristic of the unpredictable frontierwarfare. The ability of medieval armies to gather intelligence, to main-

74Heidemann, “Arab nomads,” pp. 295–296. For a more nuanced view of theintegration of the Turkmen into the existing social matrix, see Hillenbrand, “Thecareer of Najm al-Din Il-Ghazı,” pp. 264–266.

75William of Tyre, vol. 2, p. 331; Joinville, Vie de Saint Louis, pp. 250–251.


tain internal communication, and to follow the enemy’s movement waslimited. Armies were often caught by surprise, and the Arabic sourcesemploy a standard expression ↪ala h. ın ghafla (at the time of unaware-ness) to describe such an event. The captured baggage train was easilyreplaced. In 544/1149, at the Battle of Inab (or Innib, west of Ma↪arratal-Nu↪man), Nur al-Dın defeated a Frankish force composed of cavalryand infantry. Among the dead was also Raymond of Antioch. Nur al-Dın took full advantage of his victory, and conquered several forts inthe area of Antioch. However, he made no attempt to besiege the townitself.76 A victory over the Franks and especially the death of a rulercould facilitate the conquest of forts and territory since the garrisonswere depleted. But it was largely a question of circumstances, and adefeat on the battlefield did not necessarily lead to the loss of forts andterritory.

The changing fortunes of medieval warfare and the qualities of Nur al-Dın’s military leadership are demonstrated by the Muslim-Frankish war-fare during 557–559/1162–1164. In 557/1162, Nur al-Dın campaigned inthe area of H. arim (Harenc), north-west of the Orontes, but the Franksrefrained from fighting him. In 558/1163, Nur al-Dın laid siege to H. is.n al-Akrad (Crak des Chevaliers), but was surprised by a Frankish-Byzantinerelief force. His camp at the Buqay↪a was overrun and only due to theself-sacrifice of a Kurdish soldier did he manage to flee to safety. Arabicsources admit that it was a painful defeat with many being killed andcaptured.

Nur al-Dın’s military recovery from the 558/1163 defeat was quickand comprehensive. Using the resources of Damascus and Aleppo, he re-plenished the his army’s equipment, including weapons, riding animals,and tents. The financial costs involved were heavy, but the crucial ques-tion was how find substitutes for the killed and captured soldiers. Indealing with this problem, Nur al-Dın made effective use of the iqt.a↪

system: he conferred the iqt.a↪s of the fallen soldiers on their sons. Inthis way, at least, the numerical strength of the army was fully restored.In 1164, Nur al-Dın was able to dispatch the first expeditionary force toEgypt, which included 2,000 of his own troops, Turkmen paid by Nural-Dın, and Shırkuh’s private corps. The re-building of the army andthe Egyptian expedition did not exhaust Nur al-Dın’s military resourcesand, in 1164, he was again campaigning in Syria.

The forces that participated in this campaign came from Mosul, H. is.nKayfa, and Mardın, and they converged on H. arim. The Frankish relief

76Ibn al-Qalanisı, Dhayl, pp. 300–301, 302, 304–305, 306. For Nur al-Dın’s con-quests following the victory at Inab, see Elisseeff, Nur al-Dın, vol. 2, pp. 432–433,434–435.

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force was also composed of different contingents and, in the ensuingbattle, Nur al-Dın’s right wing, composed of the force from Aleppo, col-lapsed. Arabic sources indicate that it was a feigned retreat to separatethe cavalry from the infantry. The Frankish infantry became exposedto an attack by Mosul troops and destroyed. The Frankish cavalry wasdefeated too, and Nur al-Dın captured the rulers of Antioch and Tripoli,the son of Joscelan of Edessa, and the commander of the Byzantine regi-ment. The defeat of the Frankish army brought about the fall of H. arim.Nur al-Dın’s advisors suggested that he make the most of the victory bybesieging Antioch. He declined, however, by saying that the conquestof the town would pose no problems, but the conquest of the citadelwas a different matter altogether. Furthermore, he was also concernedby the possible political implications of a move against Antioch. Thetown might turn for help to Byzantium or the Kingdom of Jerusalem.Nur al-Dın’s answer reflected acute awareness of what was achievableand what was not. Antioch was in the Byzantine sphere of influenceand the Byzantine policy toward the town was well known. These werethe political constraints on Nur al-Dın’s freedom of action against theFranks, while his military resources were insufficient to besiege a majortown like Antioch and to fight a force dispatched to relieve the town.77

Modern discussion of Nur al-Dın’s so-called jihad tends to completelyignore the political and military realities he faced.

The composition of Nur al-Dın’s army reflected the political structureof his state, which can be described as a confederation bound togetherby Nur al-Dın’s success and personality. This confederate nature is ex-emplified by the 558/1163 defeat. Nur al-Dın had to commit his ownassets in order to rebuild the army, relying on the economy of Aleppoand Damascus to provide the necessary resources. The same is true ofthe Egyptian expedition. Although the command was given to Shırkuh,who also committed some of his resources, in terms of military man-power and money, it was Nur al-Dın’s enterprize. Shırkuh belonged toNur al-Dın’s inner circle, and the territories conferred upon him, iqt.a↪sand H. ims., were in Syria. He can be described as Nur al-Dın’s close po-litical ally with a Syrian power base and, thus, a reasonable candidateto lead the Egyptian adventure. None of Nur al-Dın’s Mesopotamianallies could have been expected to contribute troops for the Egyptiancampaign. The victory at the Battle of H. arim was, however, achievedby Nur al-Dın’s Mesopotamian allies and their resources. To sum up,Nur al-Dın had considerable resources to expand his state by fighting

77Ibn al-↪Adım, Zubdat al-t.alab, vol. 2, pp. 489–490, 493–495; Ibn al-Athır, al-Kamil, vol. 9, pp. 409, 415–416, 420–422; idem, al-Ta↩rıkh al-bahir, pp. 116–117, 122–123; Abu Shama, Kitab al-rawd. atayn, vol. 1, pp. 397–398, 415–419. For Byzantiumand Antioch, see Lilie, Byzantium and the crusader states, pp. 182–183, 189–190.


Muslims and Franks alike, but at no stage did he have the resources towage an all-out war on the Franks. This argument can be taken further:irrespective of Nur al-Dın’s understanding of, and commitment to, jihad,he was unable to execute it on a grand scale.

The lack of adequate resources to carry out an all-out jihad did notmean that jihad was not invoked on certain occasions. In 551/1156,for example, the arrival of many armed pilgrims brought the Franks tolaunch a raid on the pasture lands of Damascus on the Jawlan (Golan),violating a truce between Nur al-Dın and the Kingdom of Jerusalem. Ibnal-Qalanisı provides a detailed account of the livestock that grazed atthe Shu↪ra↩ spring: horses belonging to military and private individuals,working animals of the fellahin, and cattle owned by cattle merchantsand sedentary Bedouins (al-↪arab al-fallah. ın). The loss of the livestockwas a calamity that affected diverse segments of Muslim society, andNur al-Dın felt obliged to retaliate.78 Nur al-Dın dispatched an armyto Baniyas, and the first battle was fought between his brother and aFrankish force made up of 700 cavalry of the military orders, sergeants,and an infantry unit which was on its way to the town. This force wasdestroyed, and Ibn al-Qalanisı writes that prisoners and severed headswere displayed in Damascus. Prisoners sent to Nur al-Dın in Ba↪labakkwere put to death. In this case, the execution of the prisoners of warwas retribution for the Frankish raid. It must be pointed out that Ibnal-Qalanisı’s report conveys indignation at the violation of the truceand rage at the loss of the livestock whose economic importance wasimmense.79

In the winter of 552/1128, Nur al-Dın arrived in Damascus and themilitary preparations for the siege on Baniyas intensified. Siege engineswere brought from Damascus, and Bedouins and Turkmen were enlistedfor the impending campaign. A call for jihad was issued, including themobilization of the urban population. Several groups responded to thecall, among them mystics, jurists, and holders of religious posts (muta-dayyin). Others are described as raiders (ghuzat), warriors of the holywar (mujahidun), the ah. dath militia, and volunteers (mutat.awwi ↪), in-cluding young people and foreigners. The term ghuzat seems to indicatea rather permanent armed group associated with the holy war but thedistinction, if any, between the ghuzat and mujahidun is unclear. Bothgroups, in contrast to the mutat.awwi ↪, appear to be semi-professionaltroops that took part in wars with the Franks.

During the siege on Baniyas, two battles against the Franks were

78Ibn al-Qalanisı, Dhayl, p. 337.79Ibn al-Qalanisı, Dhayl, p. 339. For mounted and foot sergeants in armies of the

Latin East, see Marshall, Warfare, pp. 49–50; France, Western warfare, pp. 65, 67.

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fought: Shırkuh defeated a Frankish force of 100 faris, while in the secondbattle, Nur al-Dın himself was involved. The battle that Shırkuh foughttook place in the vicinity of the H. unın fort, and the Franks wronglyassumed that he had a small force. In fact, his force numbered in thethousands and included Bedouins and Turkmen. The Muslims were ableto surround the Franks and to defeat them. What the Franks had hopedto achieve remains vague. Nur al-Dın fought a Frankish relief force in abattle taking place somewhere between Tiberias and Baniyas. Accordingto Ibn al-Qalanisı, the Franks split up their force into four groups, ormore likely, arranged it in four lines, and attacked the Muslims. Ibn al-Qalanisı makes the rather improbable claim that Nur al-Dın dismountedto face their charge and overpowered them by a massive hail of arrows.On the one hand, by dismounting he would have sent a powerful messageto his army that they must withstand the Frankish charge and thatfleeing was not an option. On the other hand, dismounting would havegravely compromised his personal safety, and it is doubtful whether Nural-Dın indeed did so. Whatever actually took place at the battlefield,Nur al-Dın won a great victory and captured rich spoils. The celebrationsin Damascus were spectacular. Severed heads and prisoners, includingsergeants and Turcopoles, were paraded through the town, and Nur al-Dın was extolled as the defender of the Muslims. The town of Baniyaswas conquered after the demolition of a tower by the sappers, but thecitadel held and Nur al-Dın discontinued the siege.80

There are many episodes of Muslim-Frankish warfare that can bediscussed, but the impression of a military stalemate persists. Thisstalemate opened the door for various short and long-term political ar-rangements. Truces were quite frequently concluded between the Mus-lims and Franks. These aimed at achieving what was unachievable bymilitary means: to secure the vital interests of both sides. Althoughfrequently violated, truce agreements, like warfare, became a permanentfeature of Muslim-Frankish relations. However, in several cases, thesetruce agreements stipulated payment of a tribute by the Muslims. In apenetrating study, Heidemann managed to unravel the meaning of themysterious tax called al-fissa, which was collected in the first half of thetwelfth century in Damascus. It was a tribute paid, even by Nur al-Dın,to the Kingdom of Jerusalem. For example, the 551/1156 one-year trucesigned between Nur al-Dın and the Kingdom stipulated a payment of8,000 dınars of Tyre by Damascus.81 This was not an isolated event.Fat.imı Egypt also paid tribute to the Kingdom of Jerusalem. A truce

80The accounts of William of Tyre (vol. 2, pp. 255–264) and Ibn al-Qalanisı, Dhayl,(pp. 341–342) of these events do not tally. For a more comprehensive description, seeElisseeff, Nur al-Dın, vol. 2, pp. 504–512.

81Heidemann, “Financing the tribute,” p. 336.


between the Fat.imıs and the Kingdom that had existed in the 1150scame to an end in 552/1157 and the Fat.imıs ceased paying the annualtribute of 33,000 dınars to Jerusalem.82 Having a wider economic base,and being richer than the Frankish entities in the East, Muslim statesused their economic resources to compensate for what they had failedto achieve by military means: to secure temporary peace along theirborders with the Franks.

The greatest Zankid achievement in fighting the Franks was the con-quest of Edessa and bringing about the total collapse of the County ofEdessa. However, the territories of the county were divided betweenseveral states, and the Zankids were only one of the beneficiaries. If wego back to Nur al-Dın, it can be argued that his greatest achievement infighting the Franks was accomplished in Egypt and not in Syria. In theshort term, the conquest of Egypt brought him only disappointment andfrustration. Although important, the seizure of Mosul was only a partialconsolation. In economic terms, Mosul was incomparable to Egypt. Inthe long term, however, only the combination of the resources of Egyptand Syria brought Saladin and the Muslims a decisive victory over theFranks. Nur al-Dın’s most impressive achievement was the creation ofa large, though short-lived, state in Syria. This was achieved largelyat the expense of other Muslims rulers, and not the Franks. Nonethe-less, William of Tyre referred to ↪Imad al-Dın al-Zankı and, especially,Nur al-Dın as “our most powerful enemy” and “a mighty persecutor ofthe Christian name and faith.”83 William of Tyre had every reason towrite this: Nur al-Dın defeated Frankish armies, captured high-rankingFrankish leaders, and conquered territories held by the Franks. He wasan enemy to be reckoned with. One must not forget, however, that theFranks coped successfully with Nur al-Dın’s expansion, both militarilyand politically.

6 Epigraphy and history

Inscriptions offer, without the intermediary of a historian, a glimpse intothe image that medieval rulers and people wished to propagate aboutthemselves. Thus, in many cases, the epigraphic evidence serves as animportant corrective to the literary sources. Irrespective of these consid-erations, the inscriptions pertinent to Nur al-Dın’s reign are fascinatingand worth discussing. We can begin the examination of the epigraphicrecord with the 1149 H. allawiyya mosque/madrasa inscription in Aleppo.The first titles that refer to Nur al-Dın are rather modest: “Our Lord the

82Maqrızı, Itti ↪az. al-h. unafa↩, vol. 3, pp. 259, 266.83See William of Tyre, vol. 2, pp. 199, 208, 265, 394.

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Amır Isfahlar, the Most Illustrious Great Master.” These are immedi-ately followed by additional titles such as the “Knowledgeable, the JustKing, the Warrior of the Holy War (mujahid).” The title “al-Mujahid”is augmented by references to Nur al-Dın as victorious and as the pro-tector of Muslim territories. Nur al-Dın’s relations with, or his positionvis-a-vis, the caliph, occupy an important place in the inscription whichdescribes him as a sincere friend and supporter of the caliph. This in-scription clearly shows that Nur al-Dın’s image as a warrior of the holywar was promoted from an early stage of his rule. However, it nevercame to dominate his titulature. In fact, we can observe an internaldevelopment within Nur al-Dın’s titulature. Some titles became moreimportant, while new ones were added. Elisseeff has noted, for example,the abandonment of Persian titles and the progressive Arabisation ofNur al-Dın’s titulature.84 The most important change within the inter-nal hierarchy of Nur al-Dın’s titles was the positioning of the title “theJust” in front of all other titles. From 551/1156, “the Just” immedi-ately followed the title “the King.” This development brought about thestandardization of Nur al-Dın’s protocol: “al-Malik al-↪Adil Nur al-Dın”(the Just King, the Light of Religion). The title “the Learned” lost itsforefront position and, from 554/1159, the title “the Ascetic (al-zahid)”had been added to Nur al-Dın’s titles. However, its appearance in theepigraphic record is not systematic. When it appears, it always precedesthe title “the Warrior of the Holy War.” From 559/1164, through theyears 560/1165, 561/1166, 563/1168, 564/1169, and 567/1172, the title“the Warrior of the Holy War” appears more or less systematically andquite frequently as the third title immediately after “al-Malik al-↪AdilNur al-Dın.”85

Rather surprisingly, references in literary sources add a new per-spective to the study of Nur al-Dın’s titles. According to Sibt. b. al-Jawzı, Nur al-Dın was entitled as “al-Sult.an al-Malik, the Just, theLearned, the Ascetic, the Scrupulous Worshiper, the Warrior of the HolyWar, the Light of Religion and its Supporter, the Pillar and Sword ofthe Religion” (al-sult.an al-malik al-↪adil al-↪amil al-zahid al-wari ↪ al-mujahid al-murabit. Nur al-Dın wa-↪uddatuhu wa-rukn al-dın wa-sayfuhuqasım al-dawla wa-↪imaduha ikhtiyar al-khilafa wa-mu↪idduha rad. iyyual-imama wa-amıruha fakhr al-milla wa-mujıruha shams al-ma↪alı wa-malikuha sayyidu muluki al-sharqi wa-’l-gharbi wa-sult.anuha muh. yi al-↪adl fı al-alamın muns.if al-maz. lumın min al-z. alimın nas. ir dawlati amıral-mu↩minın). Other titles referred to Nur al-Dın’s justice and his re-lations with the caliph. The main difference between Sibt. b. al-Jawzı’s

84Elisseeff, “La titulature,” pp. 167–170.85Elisseeff, “La titulature,” nos. VI, VIII, XVI, XXII, XXVII.


account and the epigraphic record concerns the title sult.an whose ap-pearance on the inscriptions is not clearly ascertained. Sibt. b. al-Jawzıwrites that shortly before his death, Nur al-Dın ordered the preachersto change the way he was addressed and they were ordered to use thefollowing protocol:

O God lead your humble servant toward Your mercy, [the onewho] yields [before] Your awe, [the one who] seeks refuge inYour might, [the one who] strives in Your path (al-mujahid fısabılika), and fights the enemies of Your religion (al-murabit.li-a↪da↩i dınika), Abu al-Qasim Mah.mud b. Zankı b. Aq Sun-qur, the military assistant of the Commander of the Faith-ful.86

These titles tally well with those that appear on the minbar (preacher’spulpit) that Nur al-Dın ordered to construct in 564/1169. The inscrip-tion reads as follow:

Basmala. This work was ordered by the humble servant[needy] of His mercy, thankful of His favors, striving in Hispath (al-mujahid fı sabılihi), the warrior against the enemiesof His religion (al-murabit. li-a↪da↩i dınihi), the Just King,Nur al-Dın, the Pillar of Islam and the Muslims, [the onewho] provides justice to the oppressed against the oppres-sors, Abu al-Qasim Mah.mud b. Zankı b. Aq Sunqur, themilitary supporter of the Commander of the Faithful. MightGod glorify his [Nur al-Dın’s] victories, prolong his power,rise his standards, and spread his banners and flags in thetwo ends of the world. Might God make the supporters of hisdynasty mighty and humiliate those ungrateful of its favors.Might God bring through his hand a conquest and grant hima victory and soothe his eyes through Your mercy. O God ofthe world. In the year 564.87

Ibn al-Athır and ↪Imad al-Dın al-Isfahanı claim that this minbar was in-tended for Jerusalem. Saladin indeed brought the minbar to Jerusalemfrom Aleppo after the conquest of the city in 1187. Saladin’s deed was,however, politically motivated: his aim was to present himself as therightful successor of Nur al-Dın from whose heirs he wrested Syria. Mod-ern historians of Nur al-Dın accept the claim that the minbar was desig-nated for Jerusalem, although neither Jerusalem nor the Holy Land arementioned in the inscription. In 1169, Nur al-Dın launched the third

86Sibt. b. al-Jawzı, Mir ↩at al-zaman, vol. 8, pt. 1, p. 323.87Van Berchem, CIA, Jerusalem (H. aram), p. 394.

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campaign for the conquest of Egypt, making one think that the minbarwas perhaps intended for Cairo, especially the Azhar mosque, which wasestablished by the Fat.imıs and symbolized their rule in Egypt. Althoughthe third campaign brought about the fall of the Fat.imıs, there was nopoint in bringing the minbar to Cairo, since Nur al-Dın lost influence onthe course of the events in Egypt under Saladin’s rule.

The minbar description depicts a person imbued with a sense of des-tiny to conquer and to rule. Modern historians of Nur al-Dın depict himas imbued with a sense of mission: to unify Syria and/or to fight theholy war. None of these characterizations is supported, or reflected, bythe epigraphic record which provides no clue as to Nur al-Dın’s politicalgoals. On the other hand, his inner religious world is clearly attestedto by the epigraphic record. Both Sibt. b. al-Jawzı’s account and theminbar inscription depict a person who presents himself as succumbingto God, asking for God’s mercy, and fighting God’s enemies. Nur al-Dın forsook titles referring to sovereignty and glory in favor of an imagethat embodied militant piety. It was a volatile mixture of piety and self-righteousness which, one must admit, made a great impression on hiscontemporaries, admirers and foes alike. This change of heart was partof a pietistic phase that Nur al-Dın was undergoing in the last year ofhis reign. In 569/1174, again according to Sibt. b. al-Jawzı, Nur al-Dındistributed large amounts of charity, dedicated himself to prayer, andestablished many pious endowments. In Sibt. b. al-Jawzı’s enthusiasticdescription, Nur al-Dın clothed the orphans, married widows, enrichedthe poor and provided justice to the oppressed. Nur al-Dın’s motives areleft unexplained but shortly before his death, he was preparing a militarycampaign to dislodge Saladin from Egypt. Although the sources makeno direct link between the ruler’s piety and adherence to divine moralityand political or military successes, such a link might be suggested. Per-haps Nur al-Dın’s manifested piety and the renouncement of pretentioustitles were aimed to prepare the proper moral background for the successof the impending campaign. For example, it is said that in 1169, duringthe siege on Damietta by the Byzantine navy and army of the Kingdomof Jerusalem, Nur al-Dın fasted for twenty days, drinking only water.He became weak, and those surrounding him became concerned abouthis health. Eventually, the Prophet revealed himself through a dream toa certain shaykh and announced the end of the siege.88

Nur al-Dın’s titles referring to him as the warrior of the holy war arerich and complex. Some include explicit references to Nur al-Dın as fight-ing against the religious enemies of Islam. Other titles allude to him asvanquisher of the rebels (al-mutamarridun) and the killer of the infidels

88Sibt. b. al-Jawzı, Mir ↩at al-zaman, vol. 8, pt. 1, pp. 299, 317.


(al-kafara) and heretics (al-mulh. idun). The question is, who were therebels and to whom al-mulh. idun and al-kafara refer? Quite clearly, theterms al-kafara and al-mushrikun (polytheists) referred to the Chris-tians. In literary sources, for example, these terms always mean theFranks. The question is who, in the context of the twelfth-century Mus-lim Middle East, were al-mutamarridun and al-mulh. idun? Sometimes,the term ilh. ad is also applied to Christianity and Christians.89 However,Nur al-Dın fought not only external enemies. On the internal front, healso fought Shı↪ıs in Aleppo and Isma↪ılıs in Egypt. Ibn ↪Asakir is very ex-plicit about Nur al-Dın’s struggle against the Shı↪ıs in Aleppo. He statesthat Nur al-Dın established Sunnı Islam in Aleppo by force (az.hara al-sunna, qasara fıha madhahib ahl al-sunna), and manifested Sunnı sym-bols by introducing the Sunnı formula of the call to prayer. He refersto the former Shı↪ı formula as a reprehensible innovation (bid ↪a) and tothe Shı↪ıs as rafid. a (heretics) and innovators. In the same breath, Ibn↪Asakir emphasizes the beneficial aspects of Nur al-Dın’s rule in Aleppo:he abolished illegal taxes, prevented internal disorder (fitna), built andendowed law colleges, and enforced justice. In contrast with the presen-tation of Nur al-Dın’s policy in Aleppo, the conquest of Egypt and theending of the Fat.imı (Isma↪ılı) rule are referred to only in political terms.Ibn ↪Asakir recounts the arrival of Shawar, the deposed Fat.imı vizier, toDamascus, and Nur al-Dın’s military intervention in the internal affairsof the Fat.imı state. Nur al-Dın’s involvement in Egypt confronted himwith the Kingdom of Jerusalem, but Ibn ↪Asakir’s narrative is couchedin terms of Realpolitik devoid of any religious overtones. Nonetheless,the positive aspects of Nur al-Dın’s conquest of Egypt are emphasized:Sunnı Islam was re-established, the Friday sermons were proclaimed inthe name of the ↪Abbasıs, and internal discord was brought to an end.90

Ibn ↪Asakir’s account of Nur al-Dın’s policy in Aleppo is a summaryof complex events. In 543/1148-1149, in the face of serious opposition,Nur al-Dın abolished the Shı↪ı call to prayer. He imposed his will byexerting pressure on the Shı↪ı population but avoided bloodshed. TheH. allawiyya inscription is contemporaneous with these events and it istempting to think that mutamarridun and mulh. idun here refer to theShı↪ıs. The second conflict between Nur al-Dın and the Shı↪ıs of Aleppoerupted in 552/1157, and again Nur al-Dın had the upper hand.91 A558/1163 inscription from Hama refers to Nur al-Dın as the vanquisherof the mutamarridun and the killer of infidels and polytheists. Except for

89Ibn al-Qalanisı, Dhayl, pp. 338, 339, 340.90Elisseeff, “Un document contemporain,” pp. 137, 138. Although the term rafid. a

was usually applied to Shı↪ıs, its range of meanings was quite wide. For people referredto as rafid. a in thirteenth century Damascus, see Pouzet, Damas, pp. 252–255.

91Khayat, “The Si↪ite rebellions,” pp. 176–195.

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the H. allawiyya inscription from Aleppo, the term al-mulh. idun does notappear on of Nur al-Dın’s other inscriptions. Theoretically, the referenceto al-mutamarridun in the 558/1163 inscription could have meant Shı↪ıs,but one wonders whether a reader of the inscription in Hama wouldnaturally make the connection to Nur al-Dın’s struggle against the Shı↪ısin 543/1148–1149 and 552/1157 in Aleppo. Neither is it possible to linkthe title “the Vanquisher of the Rebels” to Nur al-Dın’s struggle with theIsma↪ılıs of the Ansariyya mountains.92 The identity of the “rebels” and“heretics” remains a mystery, unless we regard both terms as literaryexpressions devoid of any specific meaning.

7 Jihad and twelfth-century Muslimsociety

Although the Crusades cast a long shadow on the Muslim Eastern Medi-terranean of the twelfth century, their impact on the Muslim society ofSyria was limited. Jihad did not transform society into a society gearedfor war. Muslim society in Syria was, or remained, a civilian societyaffected by the wars of the Crusades but not consumed or brutalized bythem. In the study of Muslim attitudes toward martyrdom during theCrusades, Daniella Talmon-Heller writes as follow: “Self-sacrifice for thecause of jihad may be located at the far end of a range of phenomenatypical of that age of religious devotion.”93 In line with Talmon-Heller’sobservation, I would argue that the call for jihad proclaimed after theraid on Muslim livestock in the Baniyas region was exceptional. It wasmotivated by strong feelings of indignation that the Franks violated the“rules of the game,” so to speak, and by the heavy long-term materiallosses inflicted on the Muslims. In these circumstances, jihad becamethe personal duty of each Muslim. The only comparable event was thesiege of Damascus by the armies of the Second Crusade. Whether moti-vated by the spirit of jihad, driven by feelings of acute danger, or both,the people of Damascus vigorously defended their town. Ibn al-Qalanisıdescribes the Muslim forces fighting the Crusaders as being composedof professional troops (ajnad, Atrak), criminals (quttal, literally, mur-derers), the ah. dath militia, volunteers, and ghuzat. In the fighting inthe Ghut.a al-Fandalawi, a Malikı jurist, and an ascetic named ↪Abdal-Rah.man al-H. alh. ulı, died as martyrs. They became famous for theirquest of martyrdom, but Ibn al-Qalanisı also emphasized Mu↪in al-Dın

92Daftary, “The Isma↪ılıs,” pp. 27–28.93Talmon-Heller, “Muslim martyrdom,” p. 137; Islamic piety in medieval Syria, pp.

131–136. For a discussion of martyrdom as a literary motif and social and militaryreality in Saladin’s time, see Edde, Saladin, pp. 216–222.


Unur’s courage and personal involvement in the fighting and the arrivalof reinforcements: Turkmen and foot archers from al-Biqa↪, a valley be-tween Damascus and Beirut. A reward for killing Franks was announced,and the ah. dath brought decapitated heads of the enemy to claim it.94

However, the Second Crusade, like Nur al-Dın’s raid on Baniyas, wereexceptional events. Emotions were aroused and later abated, leaving nopermanent imprint on the Muslim collective consciousness.

In an article dealing with the presentation of the Franks in thetwelfth-thirteenth century Arabic historiography of the Crusades, JosephDrory argues that the Franks were perceived as merely a military foewhich posed no threat to Muslim culture and institutions. He writes:“Their (i.e. the Franks) main crime was shattering the peace of civiliansociety. Their possible spiritual menace was totally disregarded, and con-sidered practically irrelevant.”95 The Arabic sources studied by Droryare identical with those quoted in this paper, and I can only concur withhis conclusions. However, I would like to go a step beyond Drory’s ob-servations and offer an explanation why the Franks were not perceivedby the Muslims as posing a threat to their religious and cultural identity.

During the twelfth century, the Muslim towns of Syria saw a greatsurge in the establishment of educational institutions that came to dom-inate the urban religious and institutional life well into the late MiddleAges and the Ottoman period. This development gathered momentumunder Nur al-Dın’s rule and was associated with the spread of law col-leges (madrasa pl. madaris). Law colleges were endowed institutionsthat offered teaching positions in the field of law and Arabic as well asother posts for religious functionaries such as leaders of prayer, preach-ers, and Qur↩an reciters. A madrasa also had an administrative staffand employed manual workers. Students and staff affiliated with theseinstitutions received salaries, stipends, and food rations. We owe ourknowledge of these institutional developments in Syria to fascinatingdata collected and summarized by Elisseeff. Prior to Nur al-Dın’s riseto power, in the territories he eventually ruled, there were only 16 lawcolleges and one zawiya (a lodge for mystics). During Nur al-Dın’s rule,56 law colleges and five zawiyas were established. Elisseeff’s data alsosheds light on the crucial question of the intra-madhhab orientation ofNur al-Dın’s religious policy. Thirty-one law colleges were establishedfor the Shafi↪ıs and sixteen for H. anafıs. However, three law colleges wereestablished for the H. anbalıs, strongly represented in Damascus, and onemadrasa was set up for the Malikıs, whose presence in Syria was insignif-

94Ibn al-Qalanisı, Dhayl, pp. 298, 299. Ibn ↪Asakir’s biography of al-Fandalawıhas been published, translated into French, and discussed by Mouton, “Yusuf al-Fandalawı,” pp. 63–75.

95Drory, “Early Muslim reflections,” p. 98.

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icant.96 Nur al-Dın’s Sunnı policy can be described as ecumenical withstrong Shafi↪ı preferences. The long-term significance of the transforma-tion of the urban scene of Syria is also noted by other scholars. Joan E.Gilbert, for example, who has studied medieval Damascus, points outthat 121 religious-educational institutions, offering 400 positions, wereestablished in the town between 1076–1260.97

The twelfth century was a crucial period in the shaping of the latemedieval Islamic identity of Damascus, which began under Nur al-Dın’srule. During this century, Damascus acquired its “religious and ur-ban resources,” to use an expression coined by Stefan Leder. Religiouslearning, as embodied by the establishment of law colleges, constituteda crucial ingredient in turning Damascus into a late medieval Islamicmetropolis.98 The madrasa fulfilled a twofold role in this process: itwas instrumental for the integration of the ↪ulama↪ in the fabric of thestate and enabled the rulers to acculturate into the local society. Thesymbiotic relations between the rulers and ↪ulama↩ evolved during theZankıd-Ayyubı period. Michael Chamberlain, for example, has madethe following observation: “By founding madrasas, powerful householdscould insert themselves into the cultural, political, and social life of thecity and turn existing practices and relationships to their benefit. Thiswas how charitable foundations became instruments of politics.” Be-cause of its many uses, the madrasa became the preferable institutionpatronized by rulers, military and civilian members of the elite, andwomen of the ruling circles.99

These developments, driven by inner Islamic dynamics involving reli-gious and institutional factors, took place irrespective of the wars of theCrusades. Nur al-Dın played a major role as a sponsor of these devel-opments. I would argue that Nur al-Dın’s so-called Sunnı policy was atool to consolidate his rule, which was based on symbiotic relations withthe ↪ulama↩. Nur al-Dın’s religious policies and their political overtoneswere supplemented by social policies. These policies made Nur al-Dınaccepted, popular, and admired.

96Elisseeff, Nur al-Dın, vol. 3, p. 913.97Gilbert, “Institutionalization,” p. 118.98Leder, “Damaskus,” pp. 234–235, 238–241.99Chamberlain, Knowledge and social practice, p. 52. By 700/1300 there were

almost one hundred law colleges in Damascus. See Pouzet, “Les madrasa-s,” pp.123–196.


8 Conclusions

Ibn al-Athır’s discourse of Nur al-Dın’s jihad is highly misleading. Hisdepiction of Nur al-Dın as a warrior of jihad, especially in the historyof the Atabeks, is a literary invention with little relevance to the com-plexities of Nur al-Dın’s reign. Ibn al-Qalanisı’s narrative depicting Nural-Dın as a sultan of Syria who expanded his state and had dynasticambitions, offers a more realistic perspective on Nur al-Dın’s rule. How-ever, the most important summary of Nur al-Dın’s reign was written byIbn ↪Asakir who referred to a whole range of Nur al-Dın’s policies whichwere evidently appreciated by the ↪ulama↩ and popular with the public.Although Nur al-Dın’s military successes against the Franks are referredto as jihad, Ibn ↪Asakir does not present Nur al-Dın as a ruler motivatedby jihad ideology. Furthermore, he puts Nur al-Dın’s wars against theFranks within a broader context of his rule, emphasizing Nur al-Dın’ssocial and religious policies. This description can be accepted as a fairsummary of Nur al-Dın’s reign and policies. Nonetheless, for the po-litical dimension of Nur al-Dın’s rule and dynastic ambitions, one mustread Ibn al-Qalanisı.

Ibn ↪Asakir’s depiction of Nur al-Dın tallies basically with the epi-graphic evidence. Nur al-Dın’s self-image as reflected by the inscriptionsincluded the motif of jihad, but this did not dominate his titulature.The jihad language in the inscriptions is far more explicit and evoca-tive than Ibn ↪Asakir’s references to Nur al-Dın’s jihad. Nevertheless,both sources indicate that Nur al-Dın’s wars against the Franks neitherdominated his reign nor his public image. Through the inscriptions, hepresented himself as a just ruler, conscious of his obligation toward thereligion, and a warrior of the holy war. This self-image was completelydistorted by Ibn al-Athır.

Nur al-Dın’s wars against the Franks, perceived by him and his con-temporaries as jihad, played a small role in the territorial expansion ofNur al-Dın’s state, most of which was achieved at the expense of otherMuslim rulers. Nur al-Dın’s achievements in fighting the Franks playedan important role in the internal legitimization of his rule. However,dynastic ambitions and state building were not sustained only throughjihad. These were carried out through a program of religious and socialpolicies. The internal consolidation of Nur al-Dın’s rule owed more tothese than to jihad.

278 Yaacov Lev

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The Social and Economic Policies of Nūr al-Dīn (1146–1174): The Sultan of Syria

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