When it comes to Muslim medieval scholarship, Ibn Khaldūn's Kitāb al-ʿIbar and more specifically its introduction, the Muqaddima,Footnote 1 seems alone in encapsulating the kind of knowledge that appeals to broad, cross-disciplinary, modern taste, be it by historians, political scientists, scholars of religion, cultural theorists, economists, or whomever. The rigor Ibn Khaldūn applies to the study of culture and history, which indeed makes the Muqaddima an original work, led many scholars to view him as a man of unique genius producing a work capable of anticipating the development of modern sociology and social science. In other words, he was seen as a genuine revolutionary, breaking away from the old philosophical tradition of medieval scholarship and attempting to chart new modes and orders in scholarly investigation.Footnote 2 Despite this common view of Ibn Khaldūn's accomplishments as a scholar, it is not universally accepted. Many modern scholars challenge the understanding of Ibn Khaldūn as a unique genius. Rather than seeing him as a revolutionary, these critics argue that Ibn Khaldūn is nothing more than the product of his time, a traditionalist who lacks genuine insight.Footnote 3
In this paper, I argue that Ibn Khaldūn is indeed a revolutionary. However, I do not ascribe this title on the basis of his ability to anticipate modern theories in social science or the claim that he broke with the philosophic tradition of his time. These two points have been satisfactorily addressed by a number of scholars, including Muhsin Mahdi in his Ibn Khaldūn's Philosophy of History, which clearly shows how this scholar built his science of culture on classical and medieval philosophic foundations.Footnote 4 Moreover, I do not call Ibn Khaldūn's endeavor revolutionary, or unique in his time and place, to establish coherent rational standards for the study of history. What makes Ibn Khaldūn revolutionary, I argue, is the insight or vision that moved him to establish standards for historical inquiry. Living and participating in a period of great political and social turmoil, Ibn Khaldūn witnessed the tremendous authority that written history exercised over the hearts and minds of the powerful and powerless, the learned and ignorant. He considered the power that written history had over society to be more profound than previously understood by traditional scholarly authority. Accordingly, he believed that an essential way to transform a declining society into a forward-looking one is to change how this society views its history.
Ibn Khaldūn saw the world around him in political and social decline and understood that this decline had clear material causes, which explains his preoccupation with ʿilm al-ʿumrān (the science of culture). But he also understood that political and cultural decline have important intellectual components and that a scholarly community with limited rational and moral horizons plays a role in this decline. Elite scholars, the supposed intellectual and spiritual guides of the community, find moral bearing and fulfillment in a written history that they believe to be fixed and unalterable, thus they are wary of, if not outright suspicious and hostile toward, the rational sciences. The fixed and unalterable history that elites trust is thought to provide timeless moral and political examples after which human beings should pattern their lives. For the Muslim elite, this history is the history of the world before the birth of Islam, the history of the prophet and his successors, and the history of the first two Arab imperial dynasties, the Umayyad and the Abbasid. But this history, Ibn Khaldūn maintains, has come down to us by scholars who read events in accordance with their own partisan views and in the context of intense political conflict and intrigue. It is a written history that is inconsistent and full of disputes (I.18–26: 17–16).Footnote 5 Thus, the history the scholarly elite believes to be true is one that reflects their own partisan interests. And so the timeless moral examples that this history supposedly provides have become tools to silence independent thought and to flatter those in power (I.57: 10–15). Ibn Khaldūn's project is to liberate the moral example from the idea of the “timeless.” He wants his reader to understand the moral idea in its own context based on a rational understanding of what is possible or impossible in human social organization at any given time (cf. I.57–58: 15–4). It is only then that one can think of the proper guide for personal and political wellbeing.
I do not argue here that this is Ibn Khaldūn's only purpose for writing Kitāb al-ʿIbar and its Muqaddima, but I do maintain that this is one essential reason for its composition. Moreover, it is a dangerous undertaking to confront society's deeply held belief in the sacredness of its written history. Therefore, in outlining his objective, Ibn Khaldūn proceeds carefully and deliberately. He is subversive, without appearing to be so. A more substantial demonstration of this thesis requires a book-length treatment of the Muqaddima, a work I am currently writing. As such, this paper offers a preliminary demonstration of my thesis through an analysis of the preface to the Muqaddima. An analysis that will show, in Ibn Khaldūn's own words, the extent to which he is willing to break away from the strong hand of the historical tradition and how this break is tied to social and political concerns. In looking at the preface to Ibn Khaldūn's Muqaddima, I demonstrate the careful steps he takes to outline his project, showing what is unconventional in Ibn Khaldūn's conventional presentation of his ideas. The case that Ibn Khaldūn makes for his project is not as obscure and hidden as one might first believe. It is in fact very clear once we look beyond the traditional veneer of the argument.
As my analysis shows in detail below, Ibn Khaldūn opens his preface by pointing out how history is used and abused by the powerful and powerless alike. He then suggests that history is of great value and, as such, it should take its rightful place among the rational sciences. We subsequently discover, however, that history far from being part of the rational sciences is in need of rational standards of investigation. Ibn Khaldūn's rational investigation begins with the history recorded by great Muslim historians. He focuses on Abū Ḥasan al-Masʿūdī (d. 956) as a most important figure in historical scholarship though he is controversial from the traditional point of view. What makes al-Masʿūdī's work on history important is the fact that it once was an essential guide to Muslims about the early history of their civilization, especially with respect to the first two imperial dynasties, the Umayyad and the Abbasid. According to Ibn Khaldūn, Al-Masʿūdī's history served as a reference point for later historians who charted the history of more local and less powerful dynasties.Footnote 6 These later historians, however, are mediocrities. Their poor scholarship is in part due to political decline and their subservience to the petty interests of petty rulers. Their failings are also the result of their inability to understand the genius behind works such as al-Masʿūdī's (cf. I.3–4 and I.50–51). Taking a cue from al-Masʿūdī and mindful of his shortcomings, Ibn Khaldūn offers a new approach to the study of history that serves the study of politics, rather than the interests of the powerful.
Because this article focuses on Ibn Khaldūn’ style of writing, I cannot rely on Franz Rosenthal's highly readable and now standard English translation of the text. The task of this article requires a new and more literal translation that exposes the studied ambiguity in Ibn Khaldūn's original text. Ibn Khaldūn's rich vocabulary and complex style makes his Muqaddima difficult to translate. Of course, rich vocabulary and a complex writing style are characteristics of authors who possess an extraordinary command of their language. But there is more here to this problem of translation than the usual challenges faced by translators of works possessing high literary value. As my examination shows, the passages in the text that are especially difficult to translate usually reflect a studied ambiguity in the original, which makes them (or should make them) resistant to cursory readings. I now turn to my translation of Ibn Khaldūn's preface, and then provide an analysis of this translation.
THE TRANSLATION OF THE PREFACE
[1. Introduction: History and Wisdom]
(I.2: 9–19):Footnote 7 The fine-art of history is one of those fine-arts that are in constant-circulation among nations and generations; caravans and [individual] travelers set toward it; the vulgar and the dim-witted aspire to its cognizance; kings and lords compete after it; and the knowledgeable and the ignorant are equal in their understanding of it. For on its surface, it is no more than reports on daysFootnote 8 and dynasties, and on what came to pass in the early centuries. Elegant speeches are made for these reports; through them proverbs are exchanged; and by means of them the gatherings of celebrants are enlivened; and they bring down to us the [entire] affair of the created: how their conditions have been altered, how through these [altered conditions] dynasties expanded, and how they cultivated the earth until they were called for their departing-journey, and the coming forth of their moment of extinction. And in its inner [aspect] there is precise reflection, verification, and explanation of causes for things that come to be (al-kāʾināt) and their principles; and deep knowledge of the how of events and their reasons. Thus it is a venerable root in wisdom, and it deserves, and is worthy, of being counted among its sciences.
(I.2–3: 19–10): The most outstanding of historians in Islam comprehended and compiled the reports of the days; they wrote them down in pages of notebooks and safeguarded them; intruders (mutaṭaffilūn) mixed these reports with insertions of falsehood, which they fancied and innovated, and with adornments of weak narratives, which they fabricated and established [as true]; these footsteps were tracked and followed by many who came after them; and they brought down to us these reports as they had heard it; they did not take note of, or care for, the reasons of events and conditions; and they did not reject or refute the foolish accounts. For verification is seldom done; the side of scrutiny is, in general, a dreary one; error and fancy are close companionsFootnote 9 to reports; imitation, for the descendants of Adam, is venerable and highborn; intrusion on the fine-arts is long and wide; and the pasture of ignorance, among which mankind (al-ānām) dwells, is noxious. And the authority of truth is irresistible; and the flame of reflection overwhelms the wickedness of falsehood.Footnote 10 And the transmitter [of reports] is someone who merely carries and transports; [while] insightfulness critically-captures, upon inspection, that which is sound; and science discloses and polishes for it the correct pages [of history].
[2. An overview of the historical discipline]
(I.3–4: 10–2): People have recorded many [historical] reports; they collected the histories of the nations and the dynasties of the world, and wrote them down. Those who, by virtue of fame and considered leadership (al-imāma al-muʿtabara), replaced the records of their predecessors with their own later compilations, are few in number (they barely exceed the number of [one's] fingers, or the marks of vowels); like Ibn Isḥāq, al-Ṭabarī, [Ibn] al-Kalbī, Muḥammad Ibn ʿUmar al-Wāqidī, Sayf Ibn ʿUmar al-Asadī, al-Masʿūdī, and others among the famous, those who are distinguished from the crowds. And though there is in the books of al-Masʿūdī and al-Wāqidī that which is discredited and objectionable – as is recognized when confirmed and is famed among the custodians [of religion] and the reliable [transmitters] – nonetheless, the totality has distinguished all of them in accepting their reports, in emulatingFootnote 11 their methods of composition, and in following their footsteps. And the clear-sighted critic is his own judge in falsifying or considering them with respect to what they include in their transmissions [of reports]. For culture has a nature, through its conditions reports can be related, and accounts and historical materials can be predicated.
(I.4: 2–10): And, furthermore, most of the histories of these [scholars] are general (ʿāmmat) in their undertakings and approaches; because the [first] two dynasties in the advent of Islam had general-management (ʿumūm al-dawlatayyin) over boundaries and kingships; and because these [histories] dealt, [both] directly and indirectly, with far reaching ends. From among these [scholars] are the ones who grasped what came before the religion – of dynasties, nations, and common affairs – such as al-Masʿūdī and whoever followed his way. After them came the one[s] who turned from the absolute to the specific, and who held-back, with respect to generalization and encompassing [subjects], from that which is far reaching. Thus one tied the loose ends of one's eras, comprehended the reports of one's borders and regions, and dealt only with the accounts of one's dynasties and metropolises; as was done by Ibn Ḥayyān, the historian of Andalusia and of the Umayyad dynasty there; and was done by Ibn al-Raqīq, the historian of Ifrīqīya and of the dynasty that was in Kairouan.
(I.4–5: 10–6): After these ones no one came except the imitator, one who is dull in nature and mind, or who embraced dullness – weaving on that same loom, and following that same example; and who is oblivious as to how the passing of days changes conditions and how it transforms the customs of nations and generations. Thus, [such] ones bring reports on dynasties, and tales of events in the first eras, as forms abstracted from their matter, blades without scabbard, and kinds of cognizance that altogether must be renounced due to ignorance of what in them is derivative and what is inherent. For these are occurrences, the roots of which are unknown; and they are species, the genera of which have not been considered, nor have their particulars been verified. They repeat, with respect to the subjects of these occurrences, the exact same circulated reports, in adherence (itibāʿan) to those of the ancients who concerned themselves with [the investigation of] these matters. They lack awareness of the affairs of the nascent generations, because of their inability to interpret their records (dīwānihā), and thus the explanation of such affairs is a foreign matter in their texts. Then, if they set themselves to mention a dynasty, they would [certainly] arrange its reports well, being watchful to transmit them regardless of whether these are fanciful or truthful. [But] they would not set themselves to give [account] of its origin, and neither mention the reason which led to the unfurling of its banner and made apparent its signs, nor what caused it to stop at the limit it reached. Thus the reflective-person would be left still looking for the principles and ranks of [these] conditions; probing the reasons for their bearing upon each other or for their sequence; inquiring for the persuasive [explanation] regarding their divergence or harmony – as we shall mention all of this in the book's introduction (muqaddimatu al-kitāb).
(I.5: 6–12): Others then came with summations of excessive brevity. They went so far as to be satisfied with [recording] little else than kings’ names, severed from genealogies and [historical] reports, covered over, in dust letters, with the numbers of their days; as was done by Ibn Rashīq in [his] Mīzān al-‘Amal, and whoever else, from among the heedless, who followed his footsteps. None of their treatises are subject of consideration, and neither trust nor authority-of-transmission is given to them; for they have abandoned what is useful, and they have breached the recognized approaches and customs of the historians.
[3. Purpose and Content of Kitāb al-ʿIbar ]
(I.5–6: 12–9): When I looked over the folks' books, and sounded the recesses of yesterday and today, I awakened the creative eye from the habit of drowsiness and sleep, and by myself, though without resource, I aspired for the best possible way of composition. Thus I produced a book on history; in it, I unveiled conditions of nascent generations (al-ajyāl); each chapter I detailed with reports and [weighty] considerations; and I showed in it causes and reasons for the origins of dynasties and cultures. I based it on the [historical] reports of the two groups (al-jīlayn), who cultivated the Maghrib through the times,Footnote 12 filling the flanks of its regions and metropolises; on [reports of] what they had of long and short-lasting dynasties; and on [reports of] who they had of kings and allies. These two are the Arabs and the Berbers; for they are the two groups to which the Maghrib was recognized as their refuge, an abode for them lasting through the ages, so that it is almost impossible to conceive that any other group [of people] lived there. Beyond [these two groups], from among the descendants of Adam, none is recognized as the people of the [Maghrib]. Thus I refined, in the best way, its inquiries, and I brought it very close to the understanding of the learned and the elite. In the division and organization of it, I followed a strange path, and from among the various ways, I invented for it a wondrous approach, and an innovative method and style. And in it I explained – from among the conditions of culture and city-formation, and of what essential accidents happen in human social organization – that which will entertain you with the causes and reasons of generated things, and makes you cognizant how through these [principles] the people of dynasties issue forth, so that you would tear your grip away from the [habit of] imitation (al-taqlīd), and would behold conditions of days and groups that were before your time and that will be after it.
(I.6: 10–17): The Introduction, “On the Virtue of Knowing History, Verifying its Approaches, and Outlining the Errors of Historians.”
The First Book, “On Culture, and mentioning what Essential Accidents Happen in it: of Kingship, Authority, Income, Livelihood, Arts, Sciences, and their Reasons and Causes Thereof.”
The Second Book, “On the Reports of the Arabs, their Generations, and their Dynasties, from the Beginning of Creation, to this Time;” In [this Book] reference will be made to Some of [the Arab's] contemporaries from among the famous nations and their dynasties, for example, the Nabataeans, the Syrians, the Persians, the Israelites, the Copts, the Greeks, the Turks, and the Rūm [i.e., Byzantines].
The Third Book, “On the Reports of the Berbers and of Zanāta who belong to them, and Mentioning their Origins and their Generations, and of what was for them in the Habitats of the Maghrib; In Particular of Kingships and Dynasties.”
(I.6–7: 18–10): Then, when the journey to the East came to pass – in order to observe its illuminations, to fulfill the religious duty and custom in its places of circumambulation and [sacred] visitation, and to behold its relics that are in its records and scriptures – I so gathered reports I lacked regarding the foreign kings in those localities, and the Turkish dynasties in regions they possessed. I joined these [new reports] to what I have already written down. I inserted it in the mention of those generations' contemporaries, from among the areas' nations and the kings of metropolises and districts who came from them. [In this] I followed the way of abridgment and summary, substituting the abstruse for that which can be easily obtained, and proceeding through general reasons to report on the particular. Thus, this [book] well comprehendsFootnote 13 the reports of the created, assuages difficulties in dispersed wise-maxims (al-ḥikam), and gives causes and reasons for occurrences in dynasties, and has become a depository for wisdom and a receptacle for history.Footnote 14
(I.7–8: 10–9): And since it comprises the [historical] reports of the Arabs and the Berbers, both urban and tent-dwellers, making reference to the great dynasties that were contemporary with them, and eloquently-expressing, with narrations and allusions, the principles of conditions and their subsequent attributes, I called it the Book of ʿIbar, and Register of the Subject and the Predicate, Regarding the Days of the Arabs, the Foreigners, and the Berbers, and those of their Contemporaries who Possessed the Greatest Authority. And I did not leave a thing with respect to the origins of generations and dynasties, the synchronism of the earliest nations, the reasons for the change and transformation in past centuries and [within] religions, or of what accidents happen in culture – [such as] a dynasty and a religion, a city and an encampment, glory and humiliation, abundance and scarcity, science and art, income and loss, revolving conditions that are prevalent, primitiveness and civilization, a matter-of-fact or [something] to be expected – until I comprehended its totality, and clarified its demonstratives and causes. Hence this book has become unique, with respect to what it contains of strange sciences and proximate veiled wise-maxims. After this, I am certain of my deficiency among the [distinguished] people of the times, confessing my powerlessness to continue with such affairs, wishing from the benevolent and erudite (al-maʿārif al-mutasiʿat al-faḍāʾ) to look (al-naẓar) with a critical eye, a non-compliant one, and with resolution fix and recover whatever [errors] they find; for trade among the people of knowledge is rewarding, confession [of shortcomings] is a rescuer from blame, and brotherly goodwill is something hoped for. I ask God to make our deeds pure in His sight. He suffices me, and He is the best of protectors.
ANALYSIS
As seen from the translation, I divide the text of the preface into three main parts (each part in turn is subdivided into a number of paragraphs): a general introduction (I.2–3: 9–10), an overview of previous works on history (I.3–5: 10–12), and an outline of the purpose and content of the Kitāb al-ʿIbar (I.5–8: 12–9). It goes without saying that this three-part division of the text is not Ibn Khaldūn's. Indeed the text of the preface, as is typical of all ancient and medieval manuscripts, reads as one undivided and unpunctuated argument.Footnote 15 The paragraph division in this translation follows the development of Ibn Khaldūn's argument in the preface. The use of rhymed prose in the preface assisted in demarcating the structure of this argument, as each group of sentences, unified by a single rhyme, communicate a general idea linking all these sentences together. I begin my analysis by providing a general outline of Ibn Khaldūn's argument in the preface that summarizes the main points of each part in this account and then proceed to a more detailed interpretation.
The Outline of the Preface
1) The general Introduction, consisting of two sections, deals with the relationship between wisdom and history.
a. The first section (I.2: 9–19) poses the relationship between wisdom and history as a problem. Two opinions emerge from this section: history as a foundation for wisdom and the need for history to be founded on the sciences of wisdom. The first opinion, the opinion of the many, sees in the “awareness” or “cognizance” (al-maʿrifa) of history an essential component of wisdom. The second is the opinion that affirms the need to employ the tools of wisdom in the study of history – e.g. theoretical reflection (naẓar), verification (taḥqīq), and explanation of causes (taʿlīl).
b. The second section (I.2–3: 19–10) explains why the study of history should be guided by the sciences of wisdom: the pursuit of wisdom itself is affected by the unguided study of history.
2) An overview of the historical discipline that shows the limitation of history as a source of wisdom (consisting of four sections):
a. The first section (I.3–4: 10–2) provides a list of the outstanding Muslim scholars of history and alludes to the scientific criterion needed to judge their works. The study of history begins with the consideration of the books of leading scholars in the field. Ibn Khaldūn suggests that one must begin by examining the works of the most distinguished scholars, the giants of the “field,” whose works have withstood the test of time. At the same time, Ibn Khaldūn carefully hints that even the work of the most distinguished scholars must be subject to scientific examination; that is, such work must not be accepted at face value. On what basis should we judge historical works? Here, for the first time, Ibn Khaldūn introduces the subject that will define his Muqaddima, namely, ʿumran (culture). Culture, he tells us, has nature, according to which we can distinguish between what is false and what is correct with respect to historical reports.
b. The second section (I.4: 2–10) presents two exemplary types of historical scholarship, one general and the other particular, and how good scholarship in the former affects good scholarship in the latter.
c. The third section (I.4–5: 10–6) outlines the inferior type of historical work and its effects on the pursuit of wisdom, especially on the pursuit of political wisdom.
d. The fourth section (I.5: 6–12) dismisses pseudo-historians.
3) Purpose and content of Kitāb al-ʿIbar (consisting of four sections). After concluding his evaluation of the current state of the fine-art of history, Ibn Khaldūn turns to the discussion of his book and its subject matter.
a. The first section (I.5–6: 12–9) is a broad description of the substance of his book. Ibn Khaldūn insists here that his book is a unique creation that addresses all the shortfalls of the dull historians. Despite its unique character, Ibn Khaldūn suggests that the book will resemble much more the work of general histories, like al-Masʿūdī, than histories dealing with particular periods, regions, and/or dynasties. It will thus be a foundational book for future historians. Ibn Khaldūn briefly hints at the end of this section that the book is intended to be much more than guide for historians, as it is concerned with guiding those who wish to be liberated from blind imitation and convention.
b. The second section (I.6: 10–17) discusses the book's overall table of contents.
c. The third section (I.6–7: 18–10) provides a discussion of subjects that will be treated systematically and subjects that will be given cursory treatment.
d. The fourth section (I.7–8: 10–9) is the conclusion to the preface.
I. The General Introduction (I.2–3: 9–10)
In his opening remarks, Ibn Khaldūn characterizes the historical discipline or the art of writing history as a “fine-art” (fann). But if his observations about this fann are intended as praise, the actual image they produce is one of mixed blessings. On the one hand, this fine-art is widely popular, for it is in “constant circulation among nations and generations” (I.2: 9–10), and it is a subject that is in high demand as “caravans and [individual] travelers set toward it” (I.2: 10). On the other hand, this fine-art is something that inspires the “vulgar and dim-witted” (I.2: 10–11) as opposed, perhaps, to a specific class of the “learned and the elite” (I.6: 2–3); it is cause for competition, rather than harmony, among “kings and lords” (I.2: 11) and, when it comes to the understanding of what this fine-art produces, there is equality among the “knowledgeable and the ignorant” (I.2: 11–12). Ibn Khaldūn explains these observations by referring to the “outward part,” the “external aspect,” or the “surface” (al-ẓāhir) of history or, perhaps more accurately put, of history as a product of art.
The surface of history consists of “no more than reports” (akhbār) about particular events, battles, or dynasties that occurred, happened, or existed in the past. But apparently, the true value of history is something that is hidden deep within its own recesses. By means of its “inner aspect” (al-bāṭin), the fine-art of history supposedly occupies a rightful place among the other sciences of wisdom (i.e. the philosophical sciences cf. II.385: 5). However, two points communicate a vast gap between the internal and external aspects of history. First, while the external aspect of history provides “no more” than surface reports of an event, battle, or dynasty, its internal aspect seeks precise “reflection” on, “verification” of, and “explanation-of-causes” for “things that come-to-be” (al-kāʾināt) and “their principles” (mabādi'ihā). Second, whereas the external aspect of history, through the collective surface reports, “bring down to us (tuʾaddī ilaynā) the [entire] affair of the created,” the internal aspect of history has “deep knowledge of the events and their reasons” (I.2: 17–18).
What explains the widespread appeal of history is the surface report, which is a shallow (if not outright harmful) knowledge when severed from the understanding of the causes of events, or from history's inner aspect. But most written history, according to Ibn Khaldūn, is a history severed from its inner aspect. In other words, most written history “brings down to us” reports about the world we live in without due verification or explanation of causes of events and their reasons. This explains Ibn Khaldūn's strange opening comment that the “knowledgeable and the ignorant are equal in their understanding of” history.Footnote 16 This is not a high estimation of the “fine-art of history,” for a “knowledge” that could be grasped equally by the learned and the ignorant has little to recommend beyond its surface. In other words, it is super-ficial. And so it is not surprising that Ibn Khaldūn would single out only the “vulgar and dim-witted” as the type of people who “aspire to its cognizance” (tasmū ilā maʿrifatihi; I.2: 10–12).Footnote 17 Understanding the pedagogical value of history, Ibn Khaldūn wishes to change how scholars approach its study. By proposing a second part to this fine-art, he wishes to attract the more scientifically minded to investigate it, so that the learned would also “aspire to its cognizance.” But he first has to spell out in more detail what is wrong with the “fine-art” of history.
Far from being a source of wisdom, Ibn Khaldūn makes it clear that Muslim historiography has fallen victim to malicious intruders (mutaṭaffilūn) and mindless transmitters of reports. At certain times, most likely early in Islamic history,Footnote 18 the “most-outstanding of historians in Islam” (fuḥūl al-muʾarikhūn fī al-islām)Footnote 19 were able to “comprehend” (istawʿabū), “collect” (jamaʿū), and “write-down” (saṭṭarū) the “reports of the [early] days” (akhbār al-ayyām; I.2: 20; cf. with I.2: 12). Their apparent objective was to “safeguard” (awdaʿūha) the memory of these occurrences for future generations. Despite their best efforts, intruders soon tampered with these genuine reports.Footnote 20 These corrupted reports were given legitimacy by a third group of “scholars” who concerned themselves with the “reports of the days,” namely, by those “many” (al-kathīr) gullible transmitters who “brought down to us these reports as they had heard it” (addūhā ilaynā kamā samiʿūhā; I.3: 3, cf. with I.2: 14–15).
In six short sentences, Ibn Khaldūn next provides three main reasons why the genuine historical record was lost.Footnote 21 The first and most obvious reason is the scholarly ineptitude of the transmitters, who do little verification (taḥqīq) of reports. This reason is paired with the observation that the path of “scrutiny” (al-tanqīḥ) is not only difficult, but also “dreary” (kalīl; I.3: 5–6). The second reason is the nature of historical reporting, which always includes elements of “error and fancy” (I.3: 6; cf. I.2: 12–13). This reason is paired with the human habit of imitation (taqlīd), which people embrace as “venerable and highborn” (ʿarīqun wa-salīl; cf. I.56–57). The third reason is the fact that the fine-art of history, like all fine-arts, is widely exposed to the destructive works of unqualified individuals. This final reason is paired with what Ibn Khaldūn refers to as the noxious environment created by “the pasture of ignorance among which mankind dwells” (I.3: 7–8).
In explaining the nature of the “pasture of ignorance,” Ibn Khaldūn begins respectfully enough by affirming the supposed glorious past of the fine-art of history, a past which belongs to the “most outstanding of historians in Islam.” Reforming this art is not presented here as an innovation, but rather as a long overdue return to the “correct pages” of history. Continuing with the status quo or embracing reform is presented as a choice between the way of the mindless transmitters – whose ultimate sources are the intruders on this fine-art – or the way of the old anonymous outstanding historians who apparently relied on their own independent judgment when they “comprehended” and “collected” the reports of the days. The right choice should be clear, according to Ibn Khaldūn, for the truth has an awe-inspiring power and theoretical reflection (naẓar) overwhelms any falsehood, no matter how “innovative” and “fanciful” it may be.
The conclusion of Ibn Khaldūn's argument at the end of the general introduction to the preface presents two important points: (1) it reminds us of the weakness of the historical tradition – a tradition that is uncritically transmitted from one generation to another – and yet, (2) Ibn Khaldūn demands that we subject this tradition to the scholar's “insightfulness” (al-baṣīra) and to scientific inquiry that guides scholarly insight. Having made these points, Ibn Khaldūn begins his preface anew.
II. An Overview of the Historical Discipline (I.3–5: 10–12)
In this section, Ibn Khaldūn provides: 1) a subtle, but scathing, critique of much of the historical scholarship in Islam, 2) reference to the nature of culture as the standard to critique historical scholarship, 3) an outline of two types of history, one general and the other particular, and an explanation of the relationship between them. Unlike his general introduction, which is shrouded in abstraction, Ibn Khaldūn begins the second part of his preface by providing concrete examples of the most notable scholars of history. He also singles out particular scholars as religiously controversial and points out tangible ways of dealing with such controversy.
Ibn Khaldūn provides a list of six notable scholars of history. This almost chronological listFootnote 22 covers about two hundred years of historical scholarship beginning with Muḥammad Ibn Isḥāq (d. 761) and ending with Abū Ḥasan al-Masʿūdī (d. 956), 400 years before Ibn Khaldūn started his Muqaddima. This list provides an authoritative list of “outstanding historians of Islam” (fuḥūl al-muʾarikhūn fī al-islām; I.2: 20) in Ibn Khaldūn's own day. But following Ibn Khaldūn's account here, we should not consider these individuals to be the same “outstanding historians of Islam” mentioned in the previous section. In his earlier description of the anonymous “outstanding historians,” he hinted that their records have been tampered with and that others have superseded their authority.Footnote 23 Neither of these conditions applies to the works of the above-mentioned historians. Indeed, as Ibn Khaldūn maintains here, a defining quality of the works of these notable historians is the fact that they were able to replace “the records of their predecessors with their own later compilations.” Accordingly, Ibn Khaldūn makes it clear that the authority of the notable historian has superseded the authority of the earlier mentioned (and anonymous) fuḥūl al-muʾarikhūn fī al-islām. But if the above-mentioned historians are not the “outstanding” ones (are not the fuḥūl), does this make them (or some of them) the “intruders” (mutaṭaffilūn) on the arts? Ibn Khaldūn leaves it to readers to come up with their own conclusions. He does not provide an explicit judgment here as the work of the historians named are the only authoritative sources for historical knowledge regarding pre- and early Islamic history. In other words, they are the scholars that define this fine-art. Nonetheless, Ibn Khaldūn hints that these notable historians are not above reproach despite their “fame and considered leadership” (al-imāma al-muʿtabara). Here he reminds his readers once again of the need to reject imitation (taqlīd) and to exercise independent judgment when examining the historical record. He issues this advice after acknowledging the controversial nature (according to traditional religious authority) of the works of al-Masʿūdī and al-Wāqidī, but as we soon discover it is advice that applies more to the less religiously controversial scholars than it does to the controversial ones.
Ibn Khaldūn then suggests that the scholar's judgment should be anchored in knowledge of the nature of culture (ʿumrān):
And the clear-sighted critic (al-nāqid al-baṣīr) is his own judge with respect to what they falsify in their transmission [of reports] or with respect to what [in these reports] is worthy-of-consideration. For culture has nature, through its conditions reports can be related, and accounts and historical materials can be carried over (I.3–4: 20–2).
But rather than discussing the science that defines his Muqaddima, Ibn Khaldūn instead focuses on what is worth examining in the historical tradition, leading his reader to the second section of this part of the preface.
Here Ibn Khaldūn presents the two kinds of historical scholarship he finds worthy of study and examination. The first provides general coverage of Islamic history, dealing with the early history of Islam and the development of the first two imperial dynasties, the Umayyad and the Abbasid. The second provides coverage of the history of local dynasties and particular regions. Although “most of the histories of those” six scholars are examples of the first kind of historical scholarship, al-Masʿūdī's work is its latest and best representative. Beyond providing a general history of Islam, Ibn Khaldūn suggests that al-Masʿūdī “grasped” (awʿaba) what came before Islam (qabla al-milla) “of dynasties, nations, and common affairs (al-amr al-ʿamam).” As for the second type of historical scholarship, it is best represented by the works of historians such as Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm Ibn al-Raqīq (d. 1028) and Abū Marawān Ḥayyān Ibn Ḥayyān (d. 1078). Coming “after” scholars like al-Masʿūdī, Ibn al-Raqīq and Ibn Ḥayyān understood well the general character of their predecessors' histories and grasped what needed to be done in order to tie the “loose ends of [their] eras” and to comprehend the “reports of [their] borders and regions,” dealing “only with the accounts of [their] dynasties and metropolises.”Footnote 24
In discussing the inferior type of historian, Ibn Khaldūn speaks in abstraction: he provides no concrete examples of bad scholars of history, a task that is left for the readers to determine for themselves. He informs his reader that these so-called historians are men of inferior mental capacities who are either naturally dull or too lazy not to be dull. Simply speaking, they are imitators who “weave on that same loom, and follow that same example.” But what loom (or model) do they imitate, and what example do they blindly follow? It is safe to assume that Ibn Khaldūn refers to the model and example set forth by the works of the six scholars he lists above. After all, Ibn Khaldūn has already hinted at the importance of general histories for writing historical accounts of particular dynasties and regions. He also explicitly states that when it comes to these six major figures of Islamic historiography, the “totality” (I.3: 18) “have distinguished all of them in accepting their reports, in emulating their methods of composition, and in following their footsteps” (I.3: 19). But what we see in Ibn Khaldūn's description is that not all of these scholars can serve as models. What distinguished the good historian from the bad historian in the past (such as Ibn Ḥayyān and Ibn al-Raqīq) is the ability to apply the model set by the exceptional al-Masʿūdī to the peculiar times and conditions of their subjects. In other words, they were able to understand the social and political difference between the past they studied in al-Masʿūdī's works and the present they wrote about.
Now in order to understand and properly evaluate the political conditions of a particular nation or generation in relation to early ones, the scholar must be aware of how “the passing of days changes conditions and how it transforms the customs of nations and generations” (I.5). This, according to Ibn Khaldūn, is what is lacking in the research of the inferior historians. As we learn in the introduction (I.51–52), al-Masʿūdī's general history has stopped talking to these “historians” because he (unlike Ibn Khaldūn) did not spell out a systematic description of his method, which meant that with time his own history has become dated (I.51–53). These inferior scholars have uncritically accepted, repeated, and patterned their own studies on the earlier accounts of history, but they understood little of its content and did not appreciate its method. As a direct result of this flaw, Ibn Khaldūn lists four major gaps in the understanding of the dull historians with respect to earlier history: (1) they had no knowledge of the roots of political events; (2) they did not realize the need for analyzing and classifying their subject matter; (3) they did not appreciate the importance of investigating the social conditions of nascent generations or those generations responsible for the founding of dynasties; and (4) they lack comprehension of how to explain the extent and power of dynasties once established. Ibn Khaldūn maintains that these gaps in knowledge are carried over when the dull historians attempt to give their own accounts of later dynasties. Having failed to properly understand and situate accounts of earlier histories, they showed similar thoughtlessness with respect to the reports of later dynasties. They simply became “good” transmitters of these reports whether “fanciful or truthful” (I.5). Moreover, having no knowledge of the roots of political events and being unaware of the importance of studying nascent generations, they avoided dealing with the origin of such dynasties or giving a logical account for their rise and decline.
Ibn Khaldūn concludes his discussion of the dull historians with a remark on something else that is lost in their works, namely, the ability to satisfy the needs of the reflective-person. The Arabic word for the “reflective-person” is al-nāẓir, which comes from the same verb-root as al-naẓar, the word for theoretical reflection. What then are these needs that would move the theoretically inclined to examine the particular accounts of the historians? Ibn Khaldūn maintains that these needs – which have an unmistakable political orientation – are concerned with finding out the principles (mabādiʾ) and their ranks (marātib) of certain conditions (aḥwāl) that relate to the rise and fall of dynasties; with discovering the reasons (asbāb) under which these principles follow their logical sequence (tatābuʿ) and the reasons under which they do not follow such logical sequence (tazāḥum); and with seeking persuasive explanations with respect to the way these principles complement or diverge from each other. But immediately after making this observation, he asks for his reader's patience by declaring that, “we shall mention all of this in the book's introduction” (I.5). Nonetheless, raising this problem here in the preface is significant.
III. On Kitāb al-ʿIbar
Ibn Khaldūn begins his discussion of the character of Kitāb al-ʿIbar by describing what gave him the motivation to write this book. Following the manner of a theoretically-minded person, he provides here what could loosely be termed the four “causes” or “explanatory principles” for his book: the efficient, formal, material, and final ones. First, there is the efficient cause. Ibn Khaldūn informs us that the idea for his book came in part after he “looked-over” the books of the historians. The verb “looked-over” (ṭālaʿa) shares the same verb-root as the word “looking-for” (something or someone; taṭalluʿ), i.e., with the word Ibn Khaldūn earlier used to describe the after-effect of reading the books of the dull historians. Recall that after examining these books, the hypothetical reflective-person was left “still looking for the principles and their ranks” (I.5: 4)Footnote 25 of conditions relating to the rise and fall of dynasties. By contrast, Ibn Khaldūn not only “looked-over” the books of history, but he also made some kind of exploration of the difference between “the recesses of yesterday and today” (I.5: 12). In other words, he seems to have realized and accomplished something of which the dull historians had no awareness: “how the passing of days change conditions and how it transforms the customs of nations and generations” (I.4: 12–13). Ibn Khaldūn maintains that, through such reflections and explorations, he was able to rouse his creative-self out of its comfortable sleep. In describing the genesis of his work, he depicts an impressive act of ingenuity and intellectual independence. It seems that nothing of what he read and explored prepared him fully for what he was about to embark upon. Nonetheless, as a result of his awakened creativity, Ibn Khaldūn explored uncharted territories and composed a work the likes of which no one before him could have imagined.
Ibn Khaldūn describes next the form his composition took, namely “a book on history” (I.5: 14). According to his description, this book seems to address all of the shortfalls existing in the works of the dull historians. Whereas the books of these historians cannot explain the “affairs of nascent generations” (I.4: 18), Ibn Khaldūn's book “unveils conditions of nascent generations” (I.5: 14–15). While his predecessors' reports consist of historical “occurrences, the roots of which are unknown, and… species [of knowledge], the genera of which have not been considered, nor have their particulars been verified” (I.4: 16–17), Ibn Khaldūn details his book with carefully organized “reports and [weighty] considerations” (I.5: 15–16). Finally, whereas the dull historians avoid giving an account “of its origin” when reporting on a particular dynasty (I.5: 2–3), he provides “causes and reasons,” not only “for the beginning of dynasties,” but also for “cultures” (I.5: 16).
The third point that Ibn Khaldūn discusses in this section deals with the material upon which the book is based. This material consists of the historical reports regarding two groups of people, the Arabs and the Berbers. These two groups, according to his description, are native to northwest Africa or the Maghrib. The Arabic word that I have translated alternatively as “group” and “generation” is jīl. The usage of the word jīl and Ibn Khaldūn's description of what he finds unique about the peoples he studied provide insight into which type of historical scholar – those who write general histories or those who write particular histories – Ibn Khaldūn wishes to be associated with. The fact that the Arabs and Berbers are both “natives” to the Maghrib, might suggest that Kitāb al-ʿIbar should be included among works on particular histories. After all, by focusing on the Maghrib, Ibn Khaldūn seems to share the objective of historians like Ibn Ḥayyān, “who turned from the absolute to the specific, and who held-back, with respect to generalization and encompassing [subjects], from that which is far-reaching,” and thus “comprehended the reports of [his own] borders and regions” (I.4: 6–7, cf. I.52: 14–18). However, this assumption has to be rejected when one considers that the Arabs and the Berbers constitute two distinct groups of people (jīl) and that each group in turn consists of many sub-groups (ajyāl) separated by time and distinct social and political conditions. Considering this fact, the study of the historical reports of one group of people is a massive undertaking. It means surveying expansive material that covers many centuries and includes a variety of political, social, and religious conditions. Ibn Khaldūn's book seems to resemble more the work of al-Masʿūdī, who grasped the general conditions of religions, “dynasties, nations, and common affairs” (I.4: 5; cf. I.51–52), than it does the work of Ibn Ḥayyān.
Ibn Khaldūn informs us that – through the form his composition took and the material upon which it is based – he accomplished something significant: “Thus I refined, in the best way, its inquiries, and I brought it very close to the understanding of the learned and the elite” (I.6: 2–3). The “it” that Ibn Khaldūn uses here refers primarily to his book. However, since this book is a “book on history,” and not simply a history book, Ibn Khaldūn is suggesting that he has, by implication, refined the “inquiries” of history. Recall that at the opening of his preface, Ibn Khaldūn pointed to the crude nature of the “fine-art” of history by claiming that it is a source of inspiration for the “vulgar and the dimwitted” (I.2: 10–11). This did not come as a surprise considering that the “ignorant” had as much claim to understand history as the “learned” (I.2: 11–12). Now that Ibn Khaldūn – acting on his “aspiration” to compose something better (I.5: 13–14) – “produced a book on history,”Footnote 26 this fine-art was brought “very close to the understanding of the learned and the elite” (I.6: 2–3). However, in order to achieve this great accomplishment, Ibn Khaldūn informs us that he had to transform the traditional “path” (maslak), the familiar ways (manāḥī), as well as the “method” (ṭarīqa) and “style” (uslūb) of historical studies (I.6: 3–4).
Ibn Khaldūn promises a new and improved fine-art of history; a kind of historical discipline that, supposedly, does not shy away from examining and giving account of the principles of conditions for the rise and fall of dynasties. He also promises a greater reward: liberation from old ways of thinking and comprehension of the principles of change in human conditions. But apparently this reward can only be achieved through active engagement with the text, and Ibn Khaldūn alludes to several steps that must be taken by both himself and his reader to acquire this reward. First, he explains certain conditions that relate to culture and city-formation (or politics; tamaddun) as well as certain “essential accidents” that relate to human social organization. Second, such explanations, if understood by the reader, will impart learning that will bring joy (yumattiʿuka) and cognizance (yuʿarrifuka) with respect to the principles of change in general and political order in particular. Third, the reader, through this learning and awareness, will slowly come to the realization of the extent of his attachment to old ways of thinking. It is only then that the reader will be able to liberate himself from the habit of imitation (taqlīd) and, in the process, comprehend actual and potential conditions in human social organization. Note how Ibn Khaldūn – who had to awaken his creativity out of its comfortable “habit of drowsiness and sleep” (I.5: 12–13) – is not promising that such an act of liberation will be easy. The special reader might not be averse to think low of tradition and imitation. He could easily, for example, nod in agreement with Ibn Khaldūn that “imitation, for the descendants-of-Adam, is venerable and high” (I.3: 6–7). But despite himself, as Ibn Khaldūn suggests, he is not aware of the extent of his own attachment to what is venerable. Ibn Khaldūn likens this attachment to someone holding tight to an object believed to be of great value. The only way to convince such a person to let go is to show him by example the great joy that accompanies braving the hazards of the unfamiliar. Thus, he declares the deeper objective, the “final end” of his composition. Having made this point, he proceeds to the table of contents for the book and then mentions the subjects he will give systematic and cursory readings.
CONCLUDING REMARKS
As stated above, the purpose of this article is to make a preliminary case for what is revolutionary in Ibn Khaldūn's Muqaddima, using the work's preface as the primary text of analysis. The preface contains a number of bold statements and observations. We see a historian who does not think there is much genuine knowledge to be gained in most histories written so far. He reacts against a history that inspires the ignorant and dimwitted, but not the learned and the elite, a history that is suspect and used to fuel political conflicts. This does not make for a healthy moral and political environment. Ibn Khaldūn does not hold deep reverence for the long and highly prized tradition of historical writing, and he comes close to suggesting that most of the well-known scholars in this tradition are intruders on the art. Al-Masʿūdī, the one historian Ibn Khaldūn most admires in the preface and later in the introduction, is the one most viewed with suspicion by religious authority. When Ibn Khaldūn declares in his preface that he attempts a radical work, a work that would free human beings from the tradition of blind imitation, we should take his claim seriously and see if he carries it through in the text of the Muqaddima.
The revolutionary is the antagonist of the conservative. Ibn Khaldūn's Muqaddima contains both the revolutionary and the conservative, and this explains why one can easily find supporting evidence in his work for two radically different readings of Ibn Khaldūn's intellectual horizons. Does this mean that Ibn Khaldūn was a man of contradictions, and should one view take priority over the other? The reading of the preface without full analysis of the Muqaddima will not settle the question. But it can allow us to begin to make the case for his revolutionary conviction and to put his conservatism in context. In the preface, Ibn Khaldūn sets the tone for his scholarly project and indicates the limits he is willing to cross in order to change how people view their history.
