to pin down the Muslim forces in northern Syria, and this, in the long term,
would have a profound and devastating impact on the Latin Kingdom of
Jerusalem. Europe was shocked by the news of the fall of Edessa, and
though a second crusade was sent to recapture Edessa, quicldy the crusaders
realised that there was no Edessa to recover. With Aleppo and Edessa now
firmly in his grip and with Mosul under his brother's control, Nur al-Din
turned his eyes, like his father had done, towards Damascus, the most
important city in Syria. In the meantime the rulers of Damascus had taken
the opportunity of Zengi's death to move against Baalbek and they laid
siege to the city. And so Ayyub, a few years earlier the besieger, was now the
besieged. At first he held out and sent urgent requests to the sons of Zengi
to come to his aid, but Nur al-Din was busy razing Edessa and Saif al-Din
was occupied in Mosul, so no aid arrived. The massacre that Zengi had
ordered in Baalbek now played on Ayyub's mind. He may not have pos-
sessed Zengi's military genius but in matters of diplomacy Ayyub outshone
him. He could choose to defend the citadel to the bitter end, but that
would mean that a lot of lives would be lost and the citadel would ultimately
fall. There was honour in negotiating a settlement so, in 1146, Ayyub
agreed to hand over Baalbek with no bloodshed in return for ten villages
and a house in Damascus, to where he now moved. In fact such was Ayyub's
reputation for probity that he was kept as castellan of the citadel of Baalbek,
and for the next few years, accompanied by the young Saladin, he travelled
between the two cities.
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SALADIN
Over the years the traditional mantra invoked by the historians of the
counter-crusade has been a familiar one: Zengi - Nur ai-Din - Saladin; a
sort of Islamic triple jump which regained Jerusalem. And yet if the counter-
crusade is to be viewed as the political manifestation in Syria of the Sunni
Revival then the validity of this triumvirate needs to be called into question.
To understand why this is the case we need to return briefly to Nizam ul-
Mulk's Baghdad. As we have seen, Nizam ul-Mulk's policies were driven by
a strildng vision, which was the restoration of a strong centralised Islamic
state endowed with a moral character. Although he failed to implement
this vision, since the forces of fragmentation were too advanced, he pursued
several attempts at socio-political organisation, some of which succeeded in
unexpected ways, even though they took two centuries to unfold.^^ Of these
policies, the one that would have the most impact on Saladin was the
creation and propagation of the madrasas, which would gradually evolve to
become one of the most important institutions of Islamic civilisation.^®
Definitions are important here. Although today the word madrasa simply
translates as school, the original meaning was different. Usually translated as
college, the madrasa was an educational institution specifically created to
teach Islamic law (fiqh) according to one of the four Sunni schools. Other
topics could be taught at a madrasa, but there could be no madrasa without
law. Law could be, and was, taught at a mosque, but a mosque was not a
madrasa since its principle function was not to teach fiqh. The universal
association of the name of Nizam ul-Mulk with the madrasas - all of which
were called Nizamiyya - which he had constructed first in Baghdad in 1067
then in most of the major cities, assumes the fact that madrasas originated
with him. In fact they pre-dated him^' and historians have argued that ori-
ginally madrasas were simply natural extensions of the mosque.^" No matter,
the early madrasas were very much private in character and the teaching was
both independent and personal.
With the arrival of Nizam ul-Mulk everything changed. In the words of
Tabbaa, he pulled an important religious institution out of its vernacular
beginnings, recreated it in an imperial image and in the capital city, and
duplicated it on the major cities of the realm.'^ Although Nizam ul-Mulk's
actions can be seen simply as those of an individual promoting his own
Shafii law - to limit those actions to the personal or private sphere would be
seriously to underestimate his vision of endowing the empire with a moral
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2: T H E T U R N I N G OF T H E T I D E
framework. The sheer scale of the number constructed and their location
tends to point to the unfolding of a blueprint which reflected his politics
and ideology. As Tabaa points out, they may not have been state institu-
tions, but the madrasas of Nizam ul-Mulk were definitely institutions for the
state. In Baghdad, but also in Merv, Balldi, Nishapur, Tus, Rayy, Isfahan
and many other cities, large and small, madrasas sprouted. The strategic
locations were carefully selected within the realm so that each madrasa was
used as a provincial centre with a wide catchment area embracing the smaller
towns and villages. The historian Ibn al-Athir noted that no place was
devoid of them; even Jazirat Ibn Umar - his native city - which he admitted
was a forsaken corner, possessed one. Large madrasas but also small ones
crammed into the corners and alleyways of densely populated cities.
The earliest example of a madrasa which has survived is the madrasa of
Gumushtegin in Busra in Syria, which bears the date of 1136. One is struck
by how small it is in size; its external dimensions do not exceed 20 x 17
metres (65 x 55 feet), which meant that it could scarcely accommodate a
handfial of students. In that sense the Nizamiyya madrasas were the exception
rather than the norm; for the majority of madrasas, small was beautiful.'
But why were they built? Why did Nizam ul-Mulk devote so much time
and money commissioning a whole network across the Islamic world? The
accepted reason was to combat the threat of Shiism and in particular the
Fatimids in Egypt, who were actively propagating their message through
their centres of learning, of which al-Azhar in Cairo was the most famous.
And so madrasas were born as a reaction to Shiism. And yet the longevity
and spread of the madrasas cannot simply be attributed to an anti-Shiite
reaction since such an argument assumes a social and religious homogene-
ity in the Muslim world which simply did not exist. In reality, the social
milieu of Baghdad when the Nizamiyya was founded in 1067 was not that
of Alexandria, Damascus or Konya when the first colleges appeared in the
first part of the twelfth century. When Nizam ul-Mulk constructed his first
madrasa in Baghdad in 1067 the threat of Shiism, both politically and ideo-
logically, was imminent and real; however, by the time Saladin constructed
his first madrasa in Egypt, a century later, any threat had been more or
less extinguished. Thus if the construction of madrasas was simply due to
anti-Shiism, then it appears that madrasas were being built to counter a
heretical threat that simply did not exist. So we return to Nizam ul-Mulk to
discover other
reasons for the rapid spread of madrasas. In his treatise on
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SALADIN
government - the Siya-saname - he makes it clear that he sought to create
a loyal cadre of Sunni administrators to man the bureaucracy. Previously
what was most strildng about those who manned the bureaucracies was
that a large number were Christian or Shiite; in addition, many continued
to admire the pre-Islamic models of the secretarial culture which they inher-
ited, resulting in bureaucracies which adhered more to Persian Sasanian
traditions than to the Islamic values which Nizam ul-Mulk was eager to pro-
mote. In the words of Humphreys, the clerical class had often been Shiite,
Sasonophile and scandalously lax about religious matters.'^ This led to a
courtly outiook which was often at ftindamental variance with that of the
ulama.^'' Al-Jahiz, for example, the famous essayist, attacked the arrogance
of the secretaries and their sympathies toward Iranian traditions, and
accused them of manifesting an indifference toward Islam. Nizam ul-Mulk
was well aware of this, so gradually the majority of officials who came to
fill both administrative and religious positions were orthodox in rite and
madrasa-trained.'®
Whether this was the initial aim of madrasas is unclear, but that it became
its most enduring result there can be no doubt. Men who were educated in
madrasas not only became religious ftinctionaries but frequentiy became
judges, ministers and government bureaucrats of all types.'® Effectively
they became incorporated within the framework of the government. What
gradually emerged was the increasing necessity for a madrasa training for a
position in government. In short, a madrasa education became a 'stamp' of
approval signifying a knowledgeable Sunni potential secretary administrator.
The madrasas transformed the nature of the ulama. Whereas during the first
centuries of Islam the overwhelming majority of scholars of religion were
part-time ulama who were employed in secular professions, the introduction
of madrasas changed this dramatically. From simple teachers the professors
of the madrasas became influential beyond their fields of study. They were
consulted over all matters and not simply on those of abstract law, and
they played a large part in setting the intellectual tone far beyond the mere
transmission of hadith and fiqh.'^ Political issues of great importance were
presented to them and their opinion and advice was eagerly sought.'® And
since religious and administrative officials were drawn from the same
sources, it was not unusual to find a qadi and an administrator coming from
the same family. One should add that the relationship between the rulers
and the ulama was not one in which the ulama entered without ambiguity.
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2: T H E T U R N I N G OF T H E T I D E
for fear of worldly corruption.'' On one famous occasion, some ulama,
on hearing of the erection of a madrasa in Baghdad, staged a mock funeral
for knowledge, as they believed that true knowledge could not survive the
passing of money.
Nothing symbolised the emergence in Syria of the vibrant Sunni ortho-
doxy more than the establishment of madrasas, which were an immediate
and visible affirmation and tool of this orthodoxy. One can go as far as to
say that it was incumbent upon anyone wishing to champion this revived
orthodoxy to build a madrasa as a public manifestation of their adherence
to its tenets and a private reflection of their piety. Therein lies the difference
between Zengi and Nur al-Din and Saladin. Despite retrospective attempts
by Muslim historians - most notably the pro-Zengid Ibn al-Athir - to por-
tray Zengi as a Muslim hero and as the champion of the counter-crusade, it
is clear that he was litde more than an opportunistic and ruthless military
warlord. To his end he remained loyal to his birthplace, Mosul, and his
thinking - in particular his suspicion about Aleppo - was typical of a feudal
ruler of the period. Mosul was Zengi's city and for 18 years, between 1126
and 1144, he ruled it and Aleppo, and yet he built no madrasas in either
city. The only building activity to have been undertaken in Mosul during his
period was the strengthening of Mosul's wall, the opening of the Imadi gate
in 1133 and the extension of his diwan. Although Mosul had one madrasa
- a Nizamiyya - which had been built at the end of the eleventh century,
the city was not to see another college until the middle of the twelfth
century. Many small mosques and shrines existed but they were largely
insignificant and no ulama were connected to them. The question must be
asked: if Zengi was the champion of the Islamic resurgence and Mosul its
centre, why was Mosul so devoid of madrasas!' It was only aft:er Zengi's
death that we first see the signs of the Sunni Revival reaching Mosul.
Austere and ascetic by nature, Zengi's son Nur al-Din was described by
Ibn al-Athir as a tall swarthy man with a beard but no moustache, a fine
forehead and a pleasant appearance enhanced by beautiful, melting eyes.
The traveller Ibn Jubayr wrote that he was one of the 'ascetic Icings' and
noted that he never wore silk, gold or silver. Indeed in later life he changed
his grand clothing for the rough garments of the sufi. Deeply pious, he was
an avid collector of religious books, and a biographical note by Ibn Asaldr,
who was a contemporary, noted his willingness to pay high prices to acquire
books on hadith.^^ Of all the rulers, including Saladin, Nur al-Din endowed
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SALADIN
the largest number of religious institutions in Syria, and it was under him
that we see the beginnings of an alliance between the religious classes
emerging from the madrasas and the military leadership. His religious pol-
itics were largely inspired by Ibn Hubayra, tlie influential Hanbalite jurist
and vizier under the two Abbasid caliphs al-Muqtafi and al-Mustanjid. Ibn
Hubayra's Kitab al-Ifsah, a copy of which Nur al-Din kept close to his side, drew on Nizam ul-Mulk's tolerant policy towards the four Sunni schools of
law and was also very tolerant towards moderate Shiism, and he went as far
as to argue that the Sunnis and the moderate Shiites should form a united
front against the Fatimid Ismailis. Nur al-Din was also a strong believer that
madrasas should not be limited to one school but should be open to all
Sunni Muslims. In fact his whole belief was built on the cornerstone that
there should be one ecumenical united Sunni state. But if his Islamic beliefs
were ecumenically orthodox, his attitude towards the Franks was intransi-
gent and implacable, and none more so than in 1149, when he defeated
Raymond of Antioch at the battle of Inab. Raymond was slain and his head,
encased in silver, sent to the Abbasid caliph in Baghdad, to mark Nur
al-Din's position as the Sunni Muslim's leading warrior.
Nur al-Din maintained a very close relationship with the religious classes
of Syria - it was claimed that he spent up to 9,000 dinars a month just on
pious endowments - and in return the ulama not only supported him
actively but also played the
ir part in his militaiy campaigns. His army con-
tained religious men - lawyers and mystics - who were actually prepared to
fight in the ranks. Also in the ranks were other figures - prayer leaders,
Quran readers, preachers and judges.''^ The difference between Zengi and
Nur al-Din can be viewed thus: whereas the Muslim chroniclers praise
Zengi for his military achievements, in the case of Nur al-Din the emphasis
is on the religious dimension of his career."''' Prior to Nur al-Din, 16 pri-
vately constructed madrasas existed in the Zengid empire. During his reign
40 madrasas were constructed, of which Nur al-Din himself personally com-
missioned 20.^^ When he began his reign in Aleppo in 1146, there existed
only one madrasa in the city. Three years later in 1149 his construction of
the al-Hallawiyya madrasa - located deliberately just across from the Great
Mosque - was a reminder to the Shiites of Aleppo that Sunnism was there
to stay, and in that particular city the number of madrasas increased from
one to eight. Clearly the madrasas appeared to challenge the predominant
Shiite position in the city, and during their construction the Shiites sent
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2: T H E T U R N I N G O F T H E T I D E
men at night to tear down what had been built during tiie day. Similarly,
during a serious illness that Nur al-Din endured in 1157, during which his
life hung in the balance, the Shiites of Aleppo went on the rampage and
destroyed several madrasas. They would not have done so unless they per-
ceived the madrasas as a threat to their sect. Crucially it appeared to matter
little to which madliab the madrasa was commissioned; Hanafis built
madrasas for Shafiis and Shafiis for Hanafis, and we see no signs of ten-
sions in Syria which existed further east. What mattered was the actual
building - partly as a barometer upon which an individual's level of ortho-
doxy was measured, certainly as a public expression of authority and power,
and definitely as a sign of personal piety. The last factor must have been an
important one, for how else does one explain the disproportionate number
of madrasas constructed by women patrons?
If Nizam ul-Mulk symbolised the political manifestation of the Sunni