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The influence and prestige of Damascus rose steeply when Nur al-Din Zangi (1118–74) entered the city in 1154 and established it as an imperial capital for the first time since the fall of the Umayyad dynasty. After the death of Zangi, Syria was ruled by the Ayyubid and then Mamluk dynasties, each dynasty in conflict with crusaders and Mongols, and socially and religiously divided by strife between Sunnis and Shiʿa and by the intra-Sunni discord over questions of law and legal practice, political sovereignty, and the proper curriculum of madrasas.Footnote 1 As it often does, this political disquiet carried with it a flourishing of intellectual and artistic output,Footnote 2 as learned civilians were appointed to manṣabs, or stipendiary posts in madrasas,Footnote 3 and charged with the task of producing scholarship that would reflect upon the scholars’ benefactors. In this intellectual milieu, there was a tremendous crop of manāqib and fadāʿil (hagiographic) literature, hadith, fatwas (legal opinions of individual jurists), rasāʾil (epistles), legal and pedagogical manuals, and works of history, including the biographical dictionaries of Ibn ʿAsakir (d. 1176), Ibn al-ʿAdim (d. 1262), al-Safadi (d. 1363) and al-Nuwayri (d. 1333),Footnote 4 and a great number of muʾarrikhiFootnote 5 (synthetic) historians. Of these latter, Ibn al-Athir (d. 1233) is perhaps the most famous historian of the 13th-century “Sunni revival.” His annalistic history al-Kamil fi al-Taʾrikh (The Complete History), largely a replication (in its coverage of early Islam) of Muhammad ibn Jarir al-Tabari's (ca. 839–923) Taʾrikh al-Rusul wa-l-Muluk (The History of the Prophets and the Kings), though simplified for the purpose of acquiring a vast readership, employed a strategy of eliding facts or episodes that were not consistent with his pro-Zangid, anti-ʿAlid, anti-Shiʿi approach.Footnote 6
Another such scholar in the same tradition was ʿImad al-Din Ismaʿil ibn ʿUmar ibn Kathir (ca. 1300–73), the famous Syrian historian and mufassir (exegete). Born in the Syrian town of Bostra to a family of Sunni religious scholars who claimed Shiʿi ancestry, Ibn Kathir moved to Damascus at a young age with his family. He studied law with the Shafiʿi Burhan Din al-Fazari, under whose tutelage he produced some sizable commentariesFootnote 7; he also attended lectures of several famous jurists, including the Shafiʿi Kamal al-Din al-Isbahani (d. 1348) and Shams al-Din al-Isbahani (d. 1348). However, despite his early interest in law, it was the Qurʾan, and especially the hadith, that captivated Ibn Kathir. In addition to being a “direct heir to the legacy” of the scholars Jamal al-Din al-Mizzi (d. 1342) and Shams al-Din al-Dhahabi (d. 1348),Footnote 8 he also studied closely with no less a scholar than Ibn Taymiyya.Footnote 9
Ibn Taymiyya's influence on Ibn Kathir's thought is clear not only from the latter's tafsīr (exegesis),Footnote 10 but also from his historical writing. Under Ibn Taymiyya's influence, Ibn Kathir developed deep hostility to non-Sunni perspectives on law, hadith, and history, to the extent that, in composing his great work of synthetic history, Kitab al-Bidaya wa-l-Nihaya fi al-Taʾrikh, Ibn Kathir stated that he carefully avoided sources such as the Qisas al-Anbiyaʾ (Stories of the Prophets) and the Israʾiliyyat (Extra-Biblical Prophetic Legends Based upon the Jewish and Christian Traditions) when they were not corroborated by the Qurʾan or the hadith, particularly if potential sources were deemed to be the result of taḥrīf (deliberate Jewish and Christian corruption of their respective scriptures) or posed theological challenges to his perception of Qurʾanic doctrine.Footnote 11 The act of writing such a history was far from neutral; in an Islamic world still reeling from the Mongol invasions of the previous century and contemporaneous Sunni-Shiʿi tensions—distinct phenomena perhaps linked by the 1309 conversion of the Ilkhanid Mongol ruler Oljeitu from Sunni to Shʿi Islam—the composition of fadāʿil and history works were designed to continue Zangid counter-Crusader propaganda, “the legitimizing efforts of the early Mamluks,”Footnote 12 and the ongoing intellectual project to reclaim Syria's past.Footnote 13 Ibn Taymiyya, in particular, supported campaigns against the Shiʿa of Lebanon, and was equally passionate about the Mongol threat.Footnote 14 Ibn Kathir shared his teacher's zeal, a verity indicated by his handling of the early Islamic narrative.
When he composed al-Bidaya wa-l-Nihaya, Ibn Kathir did very little to alter the “standard” early Islamic narrative that he found in his sources, primarily the ubiquitous Taʾrikh al-Rusul wa-l-Muluk of al-Tabari. While the paratactic narrative structure of al-Tabari could not be replicated in Ibn Kathir's linear narrative, al-Bidaya does rely heavily on Taʾrikh al-Rusul wa-l-Muluk, not only in terms of the main plot elements and their sequence, but also, quite often, in textual borrowings, for large passages are recited wholesale. Taking as a case study the shūrā (electoral council) that elected the third caliph, ʿUthman ibn ʿAffan, over the luckless ʿAli ibn Abi Talib, this article demonstrates how Ibn Kathir transformed that story, recorded by al-Tabari as a pro-ʿAlid grievance, into the story of a righteous and legally valid Umayyad victory, employing limited but effective literary techniquesFootnote 15 that compensate for the relative scarcity of other documentary material.Footnote 16
The text of Ibn Kathir's al-Bidaya wa-l-Nihaya is oftentimes identical to al-Tabari's Taʾrikh al-Rusul wa-l-Muluk. The broadly conceived developments in historiographical style, such as the disappearance of al-Tabari's asānīd (s. isnād; the chain of transmitters used to verify all manner of historical accounts) and Ibn Kathir's replacement of his staccato akhbārī approach with a linear synthetic narrative, are evident. However, this stylistic distinction between the two works is ultimately irrelevant to the present analysis. Most (though, critically, not all) of the two works’ content—the “story” of the past that is intended to convey meaning and narrativity—is indistinguishable, word-for-word. By Ibn Kathir's era, the scaffolding of the early Islamic narrative—the order of events, the actions of the principal characters, and the general course of historical action—was so well known that a historian could not alter it in any substantial way. Since historiographical convention allowed for wholesale copying of texts with infrequent and irregular citation,Footnote 17 the fact that Ibn Kathir's version of the narrative was not originalFootnote 18 does not diminish the value of al-Bidaya as an entrée into the symbolic meanings of the early Islamic narrative, including its cast of characters, to a 14th-century Damascene literary public, as well as into the social circumstances and Sunni-Shiʿi (and intra-Sunni) strife of his era. That Ibn Kathir used al-Tabari's work as his predominant source of information is undeniable; besides the identicalness in phrasing, Ibn Kathir occasionally cites Ibn Jarir (that is, al-Tabari)Footnote 19 directly by name. But Ibn Kathir was possessed of an arch-Sunni conviction, firmly committed to hadith- and Qurʾan-based historiographical and organizational methodology, and a proud Syrian. To him, the ʿAlid-legitimizing, anti-Umayyad (and thus anti-Syrian) bent of al-Tabari (and most of his sources) was unacceptable. Ibn Kathir wished to challenge the “pro-ʿAlid” angle, so pervasive in the grand works of history that, by virtue of their ubiquity, he was forced to consult as his key sources.
It was not, however, sympathy for the character of ʿAli that Ibn Kathir found objectionable. While not “Shiʿi” in either a ritual or even a theological sense, the pro-ʿAlid perspective of these 9th- and 10th-century historiographical accounts constituted a political assertion, rooted in the historical narrative, that ʿAli had been iniquitously denied (and then tricked and robbed of) his rightful place as leader of the umma. This pro-ʿAlid political assertion naturally falls in line with the later-developing Shiʿi narrative of history, in which the denial of the rights of ʿAli and his descendants was among the central narrative motifs.Footnote 20 Ibn Kathir's attempt to undermine this pro-ʿAlid narrative was compact but persistent—slow and steady, to use the English adage.
However, Ibn Kathir's presentation of the shūrā (indeed, of the whole epic of early Islamic history) was much more than an attempt to weaken ʿAlid-legitimizing narratives; as Heather Keaney recently demonstrated, Ibn Kathir's primary objective with the character of ʿUthman specifically was to present him as a ruler responsive and accountable to his subjects and repentant of his mistakes, a view much more in line with the hagiographic fadāʿil works of the preceding centuries.Footnote 21 Ibn ʿAsakir, for example, had allocated approximately one-third of his Taʾrikh Madinat Dimashq to figures dating to the rāshidūn and Umayyad periods, including “very lengthy biographies” of the four rāshidūn caliphs.Footnote 22
Al-Bidaya wa-l-Nihaya was thus history written with a dedicated purpose: to advance a stringently Sunni historical methodology, to restore Syria's good name (as Ibn ʿAsakir, and after him Ibn al-ʿAdim, had attempted to do),Footnote 23 and thus to undermine not only what he saw as the pro-ʿAlid bias of the 9th-century historical accounts, but also the narrative basis of contemporaneous Shiʿa's historical grievances and sectarian-based political arguments. These Shiʿi concerns were Ibn Kathir's targets; his weapons of choice were narrative asides, reframing of the story, and criticism of his sources. Ibn Kathir's deviations from al-Tabari are place-markers for moments that Sunnis and Shiʿa (and pro-ʿAlid Sunnis, such as al-Tabari) were inclined to remember differently by virtue of those moments’ roles in the narratives. In these divergent passages, Ibn Kathir often pauses the 7th-century historical narrative in order to address directly the 14th-century reader (using his “narrator voice”). Such passages range in scope from cursory independent clauses that display his own opinions (wa-hādhā gharīb jiddan, “and this is very strange,” is by far the most common) to full paragraphs in which he meticulously explicates the errors of his predecessors. He offers alternative explanations for episodes within the early Islamic narrative that his predecessors had used to make the Umayyad branch of the Quraysh, or anyone who ever opposed ʿAli ibn Abi Talib, look bad. On points of contention, he directly challenges his sources. Ibn Kathir's version of the early Islamic narrative remains eminently recognizable; but he, by virtue of his creative elucidations and calculated omissions, as well as the implicit conclusions suggested by his sectarian interpositions, changes the narrative's meaning to one that fits with his particular worldview—which, as an “active interpreter of [his] society, [he] sought to [disseminate by making] sense out of the past … by employing the right to speak.”Footnote 24 The central concern of this study is therefore the methodology through which Ibn Kathir adapted al-Tabari's work in order to produce a “meaningful narrative within [his] societal context.”Footnote 25 Ibn Kathir's context included an ongoing communal conflict against the Mongols and the Shiʿa, as well as vociferous, and occasionally violent, debates among the Sunni madhāhib (s. madhhab; “school of law”).
By examining those moments in which Ibn Kathir deviates from al-Tabari's Taʾrikh, we come to understand the importance of the early Islamic historical narrative to Sunni and Shiʿi sectarian identity in Ibn Kathir's time. We also gain a sense of the relative importance of each episode within the narrative through a close examination of Ibn Kathir's modifications. Ibn Kathir makes alterations consciously employing a specific literary methodology to modify the meaning of specific critical episodes, or “subnarratives,” within the framework of the broader early Islamic story.
The election of ʿUthman is one such critical episode. The shūrā, in the words of Stefan Leder, is “a decisive moment in Islamic history, since the dissension over legitimate leadership became apparent during [ʿUthman’s] reign.”Footnote 26 Keaney correctly asserts that the shūrā is the moment in the historiography of ʿUthman where “real controversy and discrepancy enter the narratives [i.e., the general historiographical corpus].”Footnote 27 That the story of the shūrā occupies this critical juncture in the sectarian dispute over the “proper” course of the early Islamic narrative heightens its importance to the mission of Ibn Kathir.Footnote 28 This rehabilitative historiographical mission of Ibn Kathir's extends beyond the confines of the shūrā to his narrative of the entire period leading up to, encompassing, and following the first fitna. Nonetheless, the qiṣṣat al-shūrā (or shūrā narration, as Leder aptly calls it) provides a clear and concise paradigm for Ibn Kathir's literary effort to redeem the memory of the Umayyads by slowly but surely undermining the perceived pro-Shiʿi bias in extant forms of the early Islamic narrative. Rather than an explicit polemic that directly attacks Shiʿi doctrine, al-Bidaya wa-l-Nihaya constitutes an implicit polemic by narrative aside, calculated omission, and source criticism. It is not a frontal assault on Shiʿism's proverbial castle—its practices, theology, philosophy, and so on—but rather an attempt to sap Shiʿism's foundation by gradually weakening the historical narrative on which it is based.
THE ELEMENTS OF THE SHŪRĀ STORY
The shūrā story describes the election of ʿUthman ibn ʿAffan to the position of caliph following the death of ʿUmar ibn al-Khattab in 644. ʿUthman's caliphate in general, and this election in particular, came to be seen as a turning point in Islamic history. He was the first caliph to die at the hands of fellow Muslims, and ʿAli's followers were accused of playing an active role in his assassination. Moreover, ʿUthman's kinsmen, the much-maligned Umayyads, came to power directly as a result of the civil war that followed his assassination, bringing the office of the caliph into the hands of what later generations of the pious saw as iniquitous tyrants. How ʿUthman could have been allowed to lead the faithful thus needed explanation. That it was just such a nexus point in the Islamic narrative means that the shūrā story is fertile ground for the composition of a moralistic narrative. Such an episode is laden with high-stakes moments for the historian who writes with a purposeful sectarian bias.
Leder divides the shūrā narration into five elements, which he terms “subnarrations”: ʿUmar, the second caliph, is mortally wounded, and appoints a council of six well-regarded men to choose from amongst themselves a worthy successor; ʿAbd Allah ibn ʿAbbas advises ʿAli to abstain from the matter, advice which ʿAli does not heed; ʿUmar gives the council its charge; the six men discuss the matter, and the situation evolves such that ʿAbd al-Rahman ibn ʿAwf holds the decisive vote, and essentially becomes the kingmaker, with a choice between ʿAli ibn Abi Talib and ʿUthman ibn ʿAffan; and ʿAbd al-Rahman struggles with his decision, and, for a variety of reasons (which Ibn Kathir disputes), selects ʿUthman as the third caliph.Footnote 29 These “subnarrations” constitute the elements of the shūrā story, the condiciones sine quibus non of the narrative of ʿUthman's election. Leder, in his exploration of the shūrā story of al-Madaʾini (who was one of al-Tabari's main sources of information on the shūrā), demonstrates the importance of the story as “a comprehensive and significant composition adhering to the conventions of paradigmatic narration … the shūrā, as an essential part of Islamic tradition, is related to the perception of history within a framework of religious conceptions. It may thus be useful to regard it in the light of religious narratives,” such as qiṣaṣ al-anbiyāʾ, in which “tradition gains authority by…processing narrative material.”Footnote 30 In other words, the shūrā story is bound, by virtue of its importance to competing sectarian versions of the wider early Islamic narrative, to resemble a parable: a homily in defense of the appropriateness of ʿUthman's election (and, by extension, as well as through the wider narrative that Ibn Kathir relates, the appropriateness of the overall Sunni schema of Islamic history). What makes Ibn Kathir's version worthy of such close examination is the fact that, mostly using al-Tabari's own words, Ibn Kathir's shūrā parable presents the character of ʿUthman diametrically opposite to al-Tabari's version of the same man. Ibn Kathir's concerns throughout al-Bidaya wa-l-Nihaya may be tied to a variety of questions about legal methodology and hadith source-criticism, but in the shūrā narrative, because of its unique position within the Sunni and Shiʿi versions of the wider early Islamic narrative, one of his primary concerns is to demonstrate that ʿUthman was elected with the consent of the entire community, including (perhaps especially) ʿAli himself.Footnote 31 Ibn Kathir objected, moreover, to the overly sympathetic treatment of the ʿAlids that even well-respected Sunni compilations of earlier eras, such as that of al-Tabari, exhibited.
Because of the conventions of the so-called akhbārī era of the 9th and 10th centuries in which al-Tabari and those historians who were his sources were writing,Footnote 32 it was often difficult to distinguish between the chronicler (the ostensibly “neutral” arranger of information) and the narrator (the vocally opinionated arbiter of what material to include and what to exclude, and in what order to present it, and which aspects to emphasize)—and the chronicler and the narrator, of course, were the same individual. This distinction in narrative voice became even more challenging to parse once the synthetic historians of the 10th century, such as al-Masʿudi, largely abandoned the isnād, the chain of authorities that would precede the recounting of any historical episode in order to establish both its authenticity and its historical veracity. By the 14th century, when Ibn Kathir was active, the isnād appeared rarely and irregularly.
Even with the lack of asānīd, the appearance of Ibn Kathir's narrative voice is much easier to perceive than that of al-Tabari, and is a clear indicator not only of adapted text but also of the significance of that adaptation to the Sunni and Shiʿi historical memory of the shūrā. While al-Tabari does employ a specific strategy of narration, a subtle, careful, and “masterful” navigation of jamāʿī-Sunni sensibilities and an ʿAli-revering mass readership, not to mention of the perceived dangers of relying on “unreliable” sources such as Sayf ibn ʿUmar and al-Waqidi,Footnote 33 Ibn Kathir was nowhere near so subtle. There is no doubt as to when Ibn Kathir is speaking “in his own voice,” and when he is recounting recycled material cited (only occasionally explicitly) from earlier historians. Since Ibn Kathir, the ostensibly neutral chronicler, is largely indistinguishable from al-Tabari (although he does omit a fair amount of al-Tabari's material, especially those “out-of-style” literary elements such as the asānīd), it is Ibn Kathir, the subjective narrator, who is of most interest here. This latter Ibn Kathir's appearance within the text is sporadic but persistent, and he provides the narrative asides that turn al-Bidaya wa-l-Nihaya into an implicit polemic against the ʿAlid-legitimizing version of the early Islamic story—and thus, an implicit polemic against Shiʿism's central historical arguments.
Ibn Kathir's asides take two general forms: first, omission, reframing, and narrative-voice explanations of notable events, and, second, criticism of his sources. These two forms of Ibn Kathir's asides within the context of the shūrā story highlight the episodes that are charged with sectarian meaning.
OMISSIONS AND EXPLANATIONS OF NOTABLE EVENTS
As Tayeb El-Hibri points out, ʿUthman's character and his role in the historical progression of the Islamic polity is highly disputed in the early Islamic narrative. Derided by Abbasid-era writers in general and pro-ʿAlids and Shiʿa in particular as nepotistic, greedy, lazy, and impious, ʿUthman provided a “challenge of innovation” for later Sunni writers, who could not simply abandon the third of the “rightly-guided” caliphs to the denigration of the Shiʿa.Footnote 34 As such, later Sunnis, particularly in Syria, emphasize (for example) his generosity in funding the Prophet's final campaign. Since ʿUthman's character is at the center of such controversy, it is difficult to tell “where history ends and pious or didactic memory begins.”Footnote 35 In al-Bidaya, the meanings of some of the standard topoi of the shūrā story are turned on their heads in order to present an opposing view of ʿUthman relative to al-Tabari's Taʾrikh.
Before discussing what Ibn Kathir included in al-Bidaya, however, it is critical to discuss what he did not include, for Ibn Kathir's omissions constitute a significant part of his intellectual exercise. Ibn Kathir's narration of the shūrā story is significantly shorter than al-Tabari’s. This may be understood in two ways, the second of which is more illuminating. The first point is simply that Ibn Kathir's work is not of the same scope as al-Tabari's epically large Taʾrikh, and so each discrete event within the narrative is naturally given quantitatively less attention. While this is indisputably true, the fact remains that Ibn Kathir, like Arabic historians within the Arab-Islamic historical tradition since the 9th century, saw it as part and parcel of his vocation as a history writer first to select, and only subsequently to arrange and adapt, his source material. Secondly, and more relevantly, Ibn Kathir did not “waste” words by reproducing al-Tabari's version of controversial events, which he considered biased at best or specious at worst. Of course, these versions were not ignored; Ibn Kathir's criticism of the mistakes or intentional deceptions of his predecessors will be discussed in the next section. When Ibn Kathir mentioned such inconvenient elements of the shūrā story, he did so only to float descriptions of the source material for the purpose of repudiation. This is the case with his description of ʿAli's reaction to ʿAbd al-Rahman's decision to empower ʿUthman, to be discussed shortly, as well as with a number of other episodes. In each case of omission, the omitted material is not included either because Ibn Kathir deems it irrelevant or because he sees no means to reframe it productively and believably.
As far as the material that did make the final cut, Ibn Kathir's narrative—that is, the “ostensibly neutral chronicler’s” recounting of 7th-century events, in this case the story of the shūrā—is dependent exclusively on al-Tabari. So while Ibn Kathir the “ostensibly neutral chronicler” slavishly follows al-Tabari, Ibn Kathir the “subjective narrator” is effortlessly discernible. Kind words about ʿUthman are a telltale sign.
REFRAMING THE NARRATIVE
One moment where the subjective narrator appears clearly is the author's explanation of ʿUthman's motive for remaining at the back of the mosque rather than joining ʿAli on the minbar when kingmaker ʿAbd al-Rahman was making his final decision regarding who would lead the Muslim umma. This is a moment laden more with symbolic importance than with substantive importance, but that fact only serves to demonstrate how deeply Ibn Kathir's perspectives penetrated the narrative.
[ʿAbd al-Rahman] went with the two of them to the Mosque, and he donned the turban that the Messenger, may God's prayers and peace be upon him, had given him. He girded his sword and looked out at the faces of men from the muhājirūn and the anṣār, and he led the people in prayer. The Mosque filled up until it was packed with people. The people crowded in to such an extent that there was no place for ʿUthman to sit, except at the very back—he was a shy man (kāna rajulan ḥayyian), may God be pleased with him—and then ʿAbd al-Rahman climbed the minbar of the Messenger of God, may God's prayers and peace be upon him.Footnote 36
The notion that ʿUthman was shy does not have any precedent in the historical works of the generally pro-ʿAlid or Shiʿi generations of historians who came before Ibn Kathir. Even the Sunni chroniclers of the prior century, including Ibn al-Athir, Sibt ibn al-Jawzi, Ibn Abi al-Hadid, and Ibn Abi Bakr, focused their shūrā narrations more on the defense of the legality of ʿUthman's election than on any aspect of his characterFootnote 37; the tone of this scene is derivative of the fadāʿil works, including that of Ibn ʿAsakir, who sought to defend ʿUthman's character.Footnote 38 Compare the previous quotation with the following one from al-Tabari's Taʾrikh, in which ʿUthman's decision to remain at the back of the mosque is characterized quite differently:
Then [ʿAbd al-Rahman] made a sign with his hand to his shoulders [indicating that ʿAli and ʿUthman should follow him] and said, “If you will come this way!” So we got up and went to the mosque where someone gave out the cry, “Everyone in for prayer!” ʿUthman [later] said, “I held back, embarrassed by his haste to join ʿAli. I was at the back of the mosque.” ʿAbd al-Rahman appeared wearing the very turban that the Messenger of God had put on him and carrying his sword. He went up to the minbar where he stood for a long time. Then he said a prayer that the people did not hear.Footnote 39
Two aspects of the shift from the second selection, from Taʾrikh al-Rusul wa-l-Muluk, to the first, from al-Bidaya wa-l-Nihaya, stand out. The first is that, unlike most of the rest of the section in al-Bidaya, here we do not have a copy, but rather the same situation or set of circumstances—namely, ʿUthman was at the back of the crowd when ʿAbd al-Rahman donned his turban and sword and led the people in prayer—recounted in new words. Ibn Kathir does not depart from al-Tabari without purpose, and a cursory glance at al-Tabari's and Ibn Kathir's explanations of ʿUthman's sitting in the back of the hall entirely reveals Ibn Kathir's motivation for telling the story in his own words. Al-Tabari asserts that ʿUthman was simply discouraged by the support for ʿAli that he perceived to be coming from ʿAbd al-Rahman, and from most of the crowd.
Ibn Kathir, consistent with his historiographical modus operandi, does not challenge the fact that ʿUthman was in the back of the mosque, and that he did not join ʿAli and ʿAbd al-Rahman on the minbar at that juncture in the narrative. This symbolic image clearly does not show ʿUthman in the best light, and, as it is presented in the Taʾrikh of al-Tabari, also implies that ʿAli was the proper choice. The juxtaposition of ʿAli on the minbar of the Prophet, with ʿUthman not only in the crowd but at the very back of the crowd—as far from the position of authority as possible—needs little further comment. So, in order to repudiate the implication of ʿUthman's unworthiness, Ibn Kathir invokes an eminently believable scenario: namely, that the mosque had become overcrowded (surely the Muslims knew that an important moment for the umma was imminent; a crowd was inevitable!), and there was simply no space for ʿUthman to make his way to the front. In this context, ʿUthman's nonassertion of his “proper” place with ʿAbd al-Rahman and ʿAli on the minbar becomes, to Ibn Kathir, evidence of his shyness rather than an implication of his unworthiness. Ever so slightly reframing the story by adding the one, almost throwaway line “he was a shy man,” Ibn Kathir has successfully reformed a strike against ʿUthman as a relatively neutral episode.
Another set of small, yet significant, changes from the account of al-Tabari to the account of Ibn Kathir occurs in the story of how ʿAbd al-Rahman ibn ʿAwf arrogated the decision initially assigned to all six members of the shūrā. In both narratives, when ʿAbd al-Rahman announces his intention to withdraw himself from consideration, there is some suspicion on the part of the other members of the council as to his motivations for doing so. In the narrative of Ibn Kathir, both ʿAli and ʿUthman are reticent:
The situation became such that three of [the members of the council] were responsible for choosing [the new caliph] from among the remaining three [members]. Al-Zubayr sought to empower ʿAli; Saʿd [ibn Abi Waqqas], who was not under consideration, sought to empower ʿAbd al-Rahman ibn ʿAwf; and Talha supported ʿUthman ibn ʿAffan, may God be pleased with him. So, ʿAbd al-Rahman said to ʿAli and ʿUthman, “Which of you will withdraw from the matter, and undertake to appoint the better of you?” Both ʿAli and ʿUthman remained silent, until ʿAbd al-Rahman said, “I renounce my claim in this matter, and by God I will appoint one of you two.” Then, they both said yes! Then each one of them spoke, and each one made a case for his appointment by discussing his virtues, and then they each took a vow to abide by [ʿAbd al-Rahman’s] decision.Footnote 40
By contrast, al-Tabari's ʿUthman is decidedly more conniving:
ʿAbd al-Rahman said, “Which one of you will withdraw from the (race for the caliphate), and undertake to appoint the best of you?” No one answered. So he continued, “I withdraw.” ʿUthman said, “I am the first to accept [this]. I heard the Messenger of God say, “(ʿAbd al-Rahman) is trustworthy on earth and will be in heaven.” All the members, with the exception of ʿAli who remained silent, expressed their approval. So (ʿAbd al-Rahman) said, “What do you say, Abu al-Hasan?” (ʿAli) replied, “Give me your word you will consider truth paramount, you will not follow your whim, you will not show any preference for a relative, and you will not let the community down.” (ʿAbd al-Rahman) said [to the others], “Give me your solemn promises that you will stand with me against anyone who reneges [on your final decision] and you will approve of anyone I choose for you. I impose a pact with God upon myself that I will show no preference for a relative, because he is a relative, nor shall I let down the Muslims.”Footnote 41
ʿAbd al-Rahman ibn ʿAwf's compatriots seem to fear that he would later default on his word, convince them to withdraw, and then deny his own renunciation of his claim to the caliphate. Given ʿAli's subsequent experience at the conclusion of the arbitration agreement at Siffin, such an about-face style of deception would become a topos for his character's experiences in elective politics.Footnote 42
Again, Ibn Kathir reframes and adapts the narrative to present ʿUthman in a better light. Al-Tabari has ʿUthman eagerly accept ʿAbd al-Rahman's offer, even emphasizing the fact that he is the first to do so; no doubt, al-Tabari implies, his eagerness was motivated by the very factor that alarmed ʿAli. ʿAbd al-Rahman was married to ʿUthman's half-sister, Umm Kulthum bint ʿUqba, and ʿAli's fear of nepotism was such that the oath he extracted from ʿAbd al-Rahman pointedly demanded “no preference for a relative.” Once he is certain that ʿAbd al-Rahman is sincere in his intent to withdraw, al-Tabari's ʿUthman sees an immediate advantage in participating in an election where the entire electorate is his own brother-in-law. Ibn Kathir presents the material quite differently. His ʿUthman not only joins ʿAli in his suspicion of ʿAbd al-Rahman's motives, but he even emphasizes the point that both ʿAli and ʿUthman “remained silent” until ʿAbd al-Rahman formally withdrew, and then both agreed to abide by ʿAbd al-Rahman's final decision at the same time following ʿAbd al-Rahman's public renunciation of his claim. Ibn Kathir does not go so far as to switch their roles, and make ʿUthman the more pious of the two, but he purposely synchronizes the reactions of ʿAli and ʿUthman by using the dual form in describing their reactions at this juncture: “they both remained silent” (askata al-shaykhān ʿAlī wa-ʿUthmān) and “they both said yes” (qālā naʿm!) to ʿAbd al-Rahman's proposal. The change in ʿUthman's reaction and the softening of ʿAli's reticence in al-Bidaya may seem like a minor change, but the implications are significant. Al-Tabari's ʿUthman is implied to be conniving by his acceptance of his brother-in-law as the kingmaker, and his ʿAli is justifiably concerned about favoritism and placing his rightful role as leader in the hands of one who may not acknowledge his proper authority—another trope that the Siffin story will echo. By placing ʿAli and ʿUthman on equal footing, Ibn Kathir is challenging the “standard” perspective that ʿUthman is the inferior choice.
It is an interesting dynamic, not only of Ibn Kathir's work but of the work of al-Tabari and others as well, that the historian's most useful character for challenging an opposing sectarian viewpoint is often the opposing viewpoint's champion, rather than one's own champion. In al-Tabari, we saw this strategic employment of convenient characters at play in the assertion that ʿUthman himself claimed to have been too embarrassed to stand next to ʿAli on the minbar, both for fear of the public humiliation of losing and for his reticence to allow himself to be juxtaposed with a great man such as ʿAli. However, two can play at that game, as Ibn Kathir well knew. In a narrative that echoes ʿUthman's eagerness, in the Taʾrikh of al-Tabari, to be the first to accept ʿAbd al-Rahman's proposal that he decide between him and ʿAli, Ibn Kathir's ʿAli is the first to accept ʿAbd al-Rahman's decision to appoint ʿUthman:
[ʿAbd al-Rahman] raised his head to the roof of the mosque, with his hand in ʿUthman's hand, and said, “By God, listen and witness! . . . I hereby bestow what was my own responsibility in all this upon ʿUthman.” Then the crowd gathered together, pledging allegiance to ʿUthman until they crowded around him at the foot of the minbar. ʿAbd al-Rahman sat upon the chair of the Prophet, may God's prayers and peace be upon him, and sat ʿUthman below him, on the second step. The people came to him and pledged allegiance to him, beginning with ʿAli ibn Abi Talib, who was the first to give the bayʿa. Others say this, as well.Footnote 43
Ibn Kathir has ʿAli, the central figure of Shiʿi Islam's political, theological, and sectarian claims, be the first to give the bayʿa, the ritual pledge of allegiance and recognition of authority, to ʿUthman. In so doing, Ibn Kathir co-opts the character of ʿAli, the Shiʿi conferrer of legitimacy, and uses him to legitimate the election of ʿUthman (of all people)—over ʿAli himself! After all, Ibn Kathir implies, if ʿAli accepted ʿUthman's authority and authorized his election as legal by giving him the bayʿa—more than that, if he was the first to do so—must not Shiʿa follow ʿAli's example by accepting that ʿUthman was legally and properly elected?
Naturally, al-Tabari's ʿAli is much less accepting of the state of affairs than is his character's counterpart in al-Bidaya wa-l-Nihaya. The two ʿAlis are identical until people begin giving the bayʿa to ʿUthman.
ʿAbd al-Rahman sat down where the Prophet sat on the minbar, and he sat ʿUthman down on the second step. The people began to give him the oath of allegiance, but ʿAli excused himself. ʿAbd al-Rahman quoted, “He who breaks his word, does so to his own detriment; he who keeps the agreement he has made with God, He will bring him a great reward.”Footnote 44 Then ʿAli came back, pushing his way through the people, and gave the oath of allegiance, saying, “Deceit! What deceit!”
ʿAbd al-ʿAziz said, “The reason for ʿAli's mentioning deceit was simply that ʿAmr ibn al-ʿAs had met ʿAli during the period in which the electoral council was meeting and said, ‘ʿAbd al-Rahman is striving hard. The more you show (your) firm resolution, the less keen he is (that you be appointed). But [the more you say you will act according to] (your) effort and ability, the keener he is (that you be appointed).’ Then (ʿAmr ibn al-ʿAs) met ʿUthman and said, ‘ʿAbd al-Rahman is striving hard. He will indeed give you his oath of allegiance only because of firm resolution. So accept (the offer).’ It was for this reason that ʿAli mentioned deceit.”Footnote 45
Far from stoically accepting ʿAbd al-Rahman's decision, al-Tabari's ʿAli is disgusted by it, but constrained by his former oath to abide by the decision. ʿAli's ire is focused more on ʿAmr ibn al-ʿAs, who evidently spent his entire career opposing ʿAli, than it is on either ʿUthman or ʿAbd al-Rahman. The second part of al-Tabari's subnarrative—ʿAbd al-ʿAziz's explanation of ʿAmr ibn al-ʿAs’ electoral gamesmanship—refers to the final moment of ʿAbd al-Rahman's decision, which is identical in both the Taʾrikh and al-Bidaya versions of the story:
[ʿAbd al-Rahman] spoke: “O people! I have asked you privately and publicly, and none of you has expressed any objection to either of these two men, ʿAli or ʿUthman. Get up, ʿAli, and come to me!” So ʿAli got up and approached him, and he stood beneath the minbar. ʿAbd al-Rahman took his hand and said, “Will you give me your oath by the Book of God, the Sunna of its Prophet, may God's prayers and peace be upon him, and the deeds of Abu Bakr and ʿUmar?” He replied, “By God, no! But I will swear to do my utmost to do so, in accordance with my own ability.” He let go of his hand and said, “Come to me, ʿUthman!” And he took his hand and said, “Will you give me your oath by the Book of God, the Sunna of its Prophet, may God's prayers and peace be upon him, and the deeds of Abu Bakr and ʿUmar?” [ʿUthman] said, “By God, yes!” At that, he raised his head to the roof of the mosque, with his hand in ʿUthman's hand, and said, “By God, listen and witness!”Footnote 46
He then goes on to confirm ʿUthman as caliph. From al-Tabari's perspective, it certainly seems that ʿAli was set up to fail by iniquitous schemers (another common ʿAlid trope), in this case ʿAmr ibn al-ʿAs and ʿAbd al-Rahman ibn ʿAwf. After all, ʿAli was following ʿAmr's advice to assert that he would act in accordance with his own ability, and is rejected, apparently primarily for this answer.
The difference between the stories of al-Tabari and Ibn Kathir is quite stark. Once again, it is the same situation that is being discussed in both: ʿAli's bayʿa to ʿUthman following ʿAbd al-Rahman's decision to grant ʿUthman the caliphate, a concession to the victor which all agree did indeed occur. Ibn Kathir's ʿAli is disappointed, certainly, but gracious. He gives ʿUthman the bayʿa first—perhaps out of a sense of nobility, or dignity, or simply the desire to make sure that the umma does not lapse into fitna; that is, to keep it unified under a single, universally acknowledged leader. Al-Tabari's ʿAli, by contrast, is bound by his word, and does indeed give ʿUthman his bayʿa; however, he does so not willingly, but rather, bitterly angry at the machinations that, yet again, and not for the last time, conspired to prevent him from his rightful place at the head of the community of believers. As is his habit when confronted with implicitly pro-ʿAlid information, Ibn Kathir omits material and adds one aside to change the evident meaning of the narrative. He omits the paragraph concerning ʿAmr ibn al-ʿAs and his underhanded manipulation of the election—thus leaving out any sense that ʿAli was anything but gracious in defeat, which would have upset Ibn Kathir's endeavor to depict ʿUthman's election as a contentious, but smooth, affair—and, to drive that point home, adds the notion that ʿAli was the first to give ʿUthman the bayʿa.
Although so much of al-Bidaya is identical to Taʾrikh al-Rusul wa-l-Muluk, Ibn Kathir was certainly drawing on different sources for his pro-Umayyad, pro-ʿUthman information. After all, he did conclude his assertion that ʿAli was the first to give the bayʿa with the statement that “others say this, as well.”Footnote 47 However, he is never specific about who those “others” areFootnote 48; and, as we shall see in a moment, when he was composing this particular section, rearranging and adding material to make a narrative more sympathetic to ʿUthman, Ibn Kathir was looking directly at a copy of Taʾrikh al-Rusul wa-l-Muluk. Rather than consulting al-Tabari's material second-hand, he was copying and adapting al-Tabari's own words. Immediately following his story of ʿAli giving ʿUthman the bayʿa, Ibn Kathir directly cites al-Tabari's version of events by name, and then he goes on to repudiate this version.
Ibn Kathir's first form of deviation from al-Tabari, as just discussed, is a combination of reframing and subjective narrator voice explanations of key moments. The second form of deviation that Ibn Kathir uses to poke holes in the Shiʿi version of the early Islamic narrative is direct and explicit criticism of pro-ʿAlid historians—al-Tabari first and foremost.
DIRECT CRITICISM OF HIS PREDECESSORS
Ibn Kathir went to no small effort to rehabilitate every possible moment that could constitute a Shiʿi grudge, and reframe it in a manner that is more sympathetic to ʿUthman. He offers new explanations and contexts to the well-known, frankly inalterable, story of the shūrā with the goal of undermining the Shiʿi narrative of this very important historical episode. In al-Bidaya wa-l-Nihaya, however, it is evident that sometimes Ibn Kathir feels that reframing and adding small comments are insufficient tactics to achieve this goal.
One such case is the example just discussed: whether ʿAli gave his bayʿa first or not, willingly or not, is an issue that Ibn Kathir feels compelled to explore further. After all, Ibn Kathir may have felt that the plausibility of his account would be suspect if he did not acknowledge other viewpoints, beginning with al-Tabari’s, which was quite famous and widely respected. Unlike ʿUthman's motivation for remaining at the back of the mosque, or the relative suspicion ʿAli and ʿUthman felt regarding ʿAbd al-Rahman's motives for withdrawing himself from consideration for the caliphate, the actions of ʿAli at the critical moment when ʿUthman is chosen represent a very high-stakes episode for these historians; for Ibn Kathir, eliding the whole episode was not an option. The question at hand was more than whether or not ʿAli gave ʿUthman the bayʿa graciously or grumblingly; the meaning of the moment penetrated to the very heart of Shiʿi and Sunni understandings of the early Islamic narrative itself. For al-Tabari, this moment was yet another in the long string of indignities ʿAli (and the Shiʿi Imams after him) would be forced to bear: a confirmation of the Shiʿi (or at least pro-ʿAlid) schema of history, by which the Prophet's cousin and son-in-law was repeatedly robbed, tricked, or otherwise blocked from his rightful place leading the community. The sense of the injustice of such trickery is central to al-Tabari's narration of this moment, as well as his representation of ʿAli and his progeny, in general. For Ibn Kathir, and for all ardently Sunni historians and experts of hadith, the election of ʿUthman was part of God's indispensable plan for the Muslim community, and thus, not to be questioned—even by ʿAli, the loser of this particular political selection process. If their exemplar, ʿAli, accepted ʿUthman, Ibn Kathir's implied argument goes, even Shiʿa must accept ʿUthman as legitimate. This emphasis on the community's unity surrounding the election of ʿUthman is one of Ibn Kathir's major themes.
There are a number of moments within the early Islamic narrative where nothing less than sectarian rightness or wrongness is at stake. The story of Ghadir Khumm, in which Shiʿa claim that the Prophet designated ʿAli as his successor (or, for Sunnis, he most emphatically did not do so) is the most unambiguous such moment. The successions of Abu Bakr, ʿUmar, and the shūrā of ʿUthman are such moments as well. So, too, is the combined narrative of the first fitna, including the Battles of the Camel, Siffin, Nahrawan, the assassination of ʿAli, and the beginnings of the Umayyad dynasty under Muʿawiya ibn Abi Sufyan. Similarly, the martyrdom of ʿAli's son al-Husayn at Karbala is the point of no return, the event that would later be remembered as the moment when Shiʿa and Sunnis became utterly irreconcilable. ʿAli's state of mind while he gives the bayʿa seems like a minor consideration when compared to such momentous events; but ʿUthman's assumption of power, and the validity by which he was selected, gets right to the heart of the Sunni-Shiʿi historiographical dispute. Was ʿUthman legitimately elected? If ʿUthman's election was not legitimate, and ʿAli should have been elected, as al-Tabari reckons, then the Shiʿi historical schema is accurate. Conversely, if ʿUthman was a legitimate leader, accepted by the entire umma at the time of his election, as Ibn Kathir argues, then he and his compatriot Sunnis are correct.
Winning the historiographical battle for this particular episode would yield tremendous gains for Ibn Kathir's sectarian perspective and his rehabilitative mission. Therefore, he not only presents his own version of the event (translated above), but also explicitly calls into question prior narratives, particularly the narrative of al-Tabari, that conflict with his own.
The people came to him and pledged allegiance to him, beginning with ʿAli ibn Abi Talib, who was the first to give the bayʿa. Others say this, as well. Most of the historians, like Ibn Jarir [al-Tabari] and others besides him do not know this, and mention that ʿAli said to ʿAbd al-Rahman, “You cheated me! You appointed him because he is your relative by marriage, and he will ask your advice on every matter that comes to him every day [and so you will be able to rule through him or have great influence],” and that he tarried there [complaining] until ʿAbd al-Rahman said to him, “He who breaks his word, does so to his own detriment; he who keeps the agreement he has made with God, He will bring him a great reward.”Footnote 49 [Those historians] recount other stories like this, containing contradictory akhbār regarding the order [in which people gave ʿUthman the bayʿa], and how [ʿAli] spoke and delivered it. God knows best.Footnote 50
This selection from al-Bidaya wa-l-Nihaya is noteworthy in that, in the course of directly criticizing al-Tabari's version of events, Ibn Kathir challenges his take not only on what happened, but also on the meaning of events, even within the context of al-Tabari's own narrative! Ibn Kathir argues in al-Bidaya that ʿAli gave the bayʿa willingly and graciously, but in this section, as a hypothetical exercise, after Ibn Kathir paraphrases al-Tabari's version, he goes on to challenge al-Tabari's order of events. Al-Tabari's version has ʿAbd al-Rahman invoke the quote from the Qurʾan to prevent ʿAli from leaving without giving the bayʿa to ʿUthman, calling ʿAli to abide by his promise to accept ʿAbd al-Rahman's decision. Ibn Kathir either challenges or misrepresents Taʾrikh al-Rusul wa-l-Muluk by suggesting that al-Tabari's ʿAli first complained and then was silenced or shamed by ʿAbd al-Rahman's invocation of the Qurʾan. He disparages earlier akhbār that disagree with his narrative as “contradictory,” and concludes his discussion of the matter with an implicitly dismissive Allāhu aʿlam (God knows best).
Ibn Kathir immediately follows this by expounding at length (and with some vitriol) on the untrustworthiness of his predecessors, the pro-ʿAlid historians. In the three paragraphs following his refutation of al-Tabari's version of ʿAli's giving the bayʿa to ʿUthman, Ibn Kathir vociferously challenges, among others, al-Waqidi (ca. 747–822), whose reputation for honesty had never been particularly robust among Sunnis, for his confusion regarding the length of time that passed between ʿUmar's death and ʿUthman's assumption of the caliphate. In one startling passage, Ibn Kathir lambastes (along with al-Waqidi and al-Tabari) a group of historians who remain unnamed, but whose characteristics leave little doubt about their Shiʿi tendencies:
Regarding the low opinion of the Companions [of the Prophet, whom Shiʿa often disdain because of their repeated rejections of ʿAli], contrary to what is asserted by the [Shiʿi] deserters and their idiot storytellers, those who make no distinction between true akhbār and weak ones, between those [akhbār] which are sound and those which are faulty, those [akhbār] which are inauthentic and those which are authentic: by God, those who are correct are those who prosper. Thus, [Shiʿi] ʿulamaʾ disagreed on the procession of those who gave the bayʿa to ʿUthman ibn ʿAffan, may God be pleased with him, on that day. Al-Waqidi narrated, on the authority of his Shaykhs,Footnote 51 that [ʿUthman] received the bayʿa on Monday, with one night remaining in Dhu al-Hijja of the year 23, and assumed the caliphate in Muharram of the year 24, and this is very strange. Al-Waqidi also narrated, cited by al-Tabari, the following: ʿUthman was given the bayʿa ten days into Muharram, three nights after the killing of ʿUmar, and this is even stranger than his previous statement.Footnote 52
Beyond the name-calling—“deserters” and “idiot storytellers”—Ibn Kathir is eager to point out the willingness of pro-ʿAlid historians to include contradictory or suspect material in their histories. For example, there is some disagreement in the sources regarding the date of ʿUmar's wounding, the date of his death, and the interval of time that passed between ʿUmar's death and the beginning of ʿUthman's reign. These issues are largely inconsequential in and of themselves; but by pointing out even small and barely relevant inconsistencies in his opponents, Ibn Kathir presses his attack on the validity of their histories. This discussion of the discrepancies in reports about the interval between ʿUmar's death and ʿUthman's election immediately follows Ibn Kathir's larger assertion that the pro-ʿAlid and Shiʿi historians are intellectually irresponsible and thus untrustworthy. Ibn Kathir's invocation of those discrepancies should be read as a specific argument in support of that claim of pro-ʿAlid untrustworthiness. Ibn Kathir, by explicitly pointing out the variety of discrepancies surrounding the timeline of ʿUmar's death within the sources upon which al-Tabari relied, directly attacks not only al-Tabari, but also al-Tabari's narratives, his sources, and the entire Shiʿi historiographical enterprise.
Earlier in the narrative, Ibn Kathir criticized al-Madaʿini for a story cited by al-Tabari, and set within the initial deliberations of the shūrā:
[The members of the shūrā] sat in the house, and then Abu Talha got up and closed the door, sequestering them inside. ʿAmr ibn al-ʿAs and al-Mughira ibn Shuʿba came and sat just outside the door. Saʿd ibn Abi Waqqas came out and threw pebbles at them, chasing them away, saying, “Did you two come here in order to say, ‘We were there, we were members of the shūrā?’” This is a narration of al-Madaʿini, and God knows best whether it is true.Footnote 53
Like the question of the interval between ʿUmar's death and the commencement of ʿUthman's reign just discussed, this seems like a small-stakes moment for Ibn Kathir. After all, unlike the moment of ʿUthman's receipt of the bayʿa, the attempt by ʿAmr ibn al-ʿAs and al-Mughira ibn Shuʿba to take part in the election of the next caliph, even if only by virtue of attendance, really had no lasting effect on the Islamic polity. However, this is a chance for Ibn Kathir to take on al-Madaʿini, a well-known pro-ʿAlid source for al-Tabari and others. Ibn Kathir does not, to be fair, challenge him directly, as he does with al-Waqidi and al-Tabari; al-Madaʿini's reputation as a reliable source is generally more solid than al-Waqidi’s. However, Ibn Kathir does allow the reader to see that he has at least some doubt regarding the story's veracity by including the last clause, Allāhu aʿlam bi-ṣiḥḥatihi (God knows best whether it is true). Ibn Kathir is not content to confine his critique to al-Tabari, who was not the only pro-ʿAlid historian, although he was certainly the most famous one; the mention of al-Madaʿini expands the critique to the earliest extant versions of the pro-ʿAlid narrative.
At first glance, there is nothing inherently pro-ʿAlid or anti-ʿUthman in this brief episode. Ibn Kathir nonetheless feels compelled to append that statement of doubt. What Ibn Kathir likely finds troubling in this piece of the narrative is the presence of ʿAmr ibn al-ʿAs anywhere even in the remote vicinity of the shūrā proceedings. Al-Tabari's ʿAli later accuses ʿAmr of manipulating the selection process by tricking ʿAli into answering ʿAbd al-Rahman's decisive final question in a nuanced manner, whereas the general consensus of many of the sources is that ʿAbd al-Rahman was anticipating a simple and pious answer.Footnote 54 If ʿAmr is snooping around the shūrā meetings from the very beginning, as al-Tabari suggests via al-Madaʿini, it raises the likelihood that he did, indeed, seek to influence the outcome unduly. Ibn Kathir, it should be noted, chooses not to include the story of ʿAmr's alleged manipulation in al-Bidaya wa-l-Nihaya at all, even when he is in the process of criticizing al-Tabari for suggesting that ʿAli was bitter about ʿAbd al-Rahman's selection of ʿUthman, where it would intuitively fit. With the omission of the allegation of tampering, and this attempt to cast doubt on al-Madaʿini's narration of this moment, in mind, it is reasonable to conclude that Ibn Kathir wanted to keep ʿAmr ibn al-ʿAs as far away from the shūrā story as he possibly could. ʿAmr's lasting reputation was that of a “sly fox,” a dishonest manipulator of events for his own worldly purposes. The presence of such an unapologetically pro-Umayyad figure in the story—frankly, in any capacity—complicates Ibn Kathir's attempt to paint an ʿUthman-friendly picture of this election. This particular moment is small stakes in the grand scheme of competing sectarian versions of the early Islamic narrative, but the story still shows an Umayyad supporter behaving badly. In other, similarly anti-Umayyad pieces of the narrative, Ibn Kathir reframed them, or explained them, or omitted them. He cannot omit all such stories, however; there are simply too many, and their absence would be devastatingly conspicuous. Here, he challenges the veracity of the story, and thereby attempts to poke another small hole in what he perceives to be the unduly pro-ʿAlid or Shiʿi bent that pervades the “standard” version—that is, al-Tabari's version—of the early Islamic narrative.
CONCLUSION
Ibn Kathir's sectarian predilections are no secret, nor have they ever been. Furthermore, the attempt to “rehabilitate” Syrian history has been explored in secondary literature, most relevantly in the work of Heather Keaney, Anne-Marie Eddé, James Lindsay, and Aram Shahin.Footnote 55 However, no in-depth study of the literary methodology by which Ibn Kathir, and his countrymen and colleagues Ibn ʿAsakir, Ibn al-ʿAdim, and others, reexamined Umayyad concerns in a more flattering light exists.Footnote 56 These concerns included the reign of ʿUthman, who would appoint Muʿawiya governor of Syria. Muʿawiya's influence would allow him both the power base and pretext to wage the conflict against ʿAli when ʿUthman was assassinated twelve years after the shūrā.
While Ibn Kathir relies heavily on al-Tabari's Taʾrikh al-Rusul wa-l-Muluk, it is when he is faced with a passage, situation, or quote that denigrates or criticizes the Umayyad branch (stories that Ibn Kathir probably considers to be Abbasid-era inventions) or are too strongly pro-ʿAli that he diverges from his source text. There are two main tactics Ibn Kathir uses to repurpose discrete episodes within the early Islamic historical narrative, and they are generally employed very shrewdly. The first is to restate the same story in his own words, emphasizing what he considers to be the most advantageous depiction of the Umayyad dynasty (or its representative character—in this case, ʿUthman). One example of this is his reframing of the story in which ʿUthman remains at the back of the mosque and does not join ʿAli and ʿAbd al-Rahman on the minbar.
Ibn Kathir's second tactic is direct, explicit criticism of his (pro-ʿAlid) source—that is, al-Tabari—as well as al-Tabari's sources, and the explanations they provide and the akhbār they include. This tactic is visible in his critique of al-Tabari's account of ʿAli's reluctant giving of the bayʿa, followed by Ibn Kathir's excoriating reprimand of Shiʿi historians, or “idiot storytellers…who make no distinction” between true and false history. Ibn Kathir generally employs this tactic when the stakes are very high, as is the case with the story of ʿAli's bayʿa, at the heart of which lies the very essence of competing Sunni and Shiʿi interpretations of the “proper” course of history and questions of the legitimacy and proper identity of the Commander of the Faithful. Ibn Kathir also employs this tactic when the stakes are lower—for example, al-Madaʿini's story of ʿAmr ibn al-ʿAs trying to sneak his way into the inner circle of the shūrā. In such cases, Ibn Kathir wishes to include the story, but sees no tempting anti-Shiʿi slant to append to the narrative. After all, he would not be taken seriously if he simply omitted or glossed any episode that maligns the Umayyads. In such cases he settled for critiquing the historians who relate such episodes. Sometimes, as in this case, the criticism is not a direct challenge, but simply a statement of uncertainty, such as Allāhu aʿlam, or a snide remark that expresses a sense of bemusement, such as wa-hādhā gharīb jiddan (this is very strange).
Ibn Kathir's occasional willingness to interpose his own voice into the narrative is part of what gives al-Bidaya wa-l-Nihaya its distinctive character. In terms of the information the book conveys explicitly, it is not an upgrade over al-Tabari. However, what may be inferred from closely examining those small asides, from tracing Ibn Kathir's adaptations of al-Tabari, and by understanding the specifics of his historiographical style, is that we find in al-Bidaya wa-l-Nihaya a wealth of information about the dynamics of not only the Sunni-Shiʿi competition for the early Islamic narrative, but also the evolution of the Sunni relationship to the character of ʿAli. The sympathy ʿAli evokes in al-Tabari was unacceptable to Ibn Kathir.
We also learn about Ibn Kathir's literary tactics. With a few high-stakes episodes, such as the shūrā, the reward for victory in this competition is nothing less than confirmation of sectarian rightness. This was as true for Ibn Kathir in the 14th century as it had been for al-Tabari in the 9th century. For this reason, Ibn Kathir's literary tools of reframing, narrative aside, and direct critique are not only important for the understanding of his own, personal compositional style and sectarian beliefs. They are red flags, scattered in his text, that highlight the key points of contention between competing Sunni and Shiʿi narratives of history. As the narrative that describes the beginning of ʿUthman's reign, the shūrā is an ideal case study. Competing notions of executive legitimacy, electoral validity, and the proper course of history itself are all indelible components of the shūrā story—and these all remain points of contention in Sunni and Shiʿi religious and political thought, even today.
