Religious inquisition as social policy: the persecution of the 'Zanadiqa' in the early Abbasid Caliphate.

INTRODUCTION

IT IS COMMONLY SAID THAT ISLAM IS "DIN WA DAWLA" to convey the statement that in Islam theology and politics are inextricably intertwined. (Din is translated as theology in order to avoid the restrictive meaning the term religion conveys in the modern West where religion is clearly always distinct from politics.) According to an accepted interpretation of this connection, Islam provides a set of rules, regulations, ethics, and laws which govern the Umma's social, economic and political processes. The Shari'a (Islamic law) is divided into 'Ibadat (matters related to worship or religion) and Mu'amalat (matters related to transactions or politics). This relationship implies that politics is always influenced by theology. To put it differently, Islam is conceptually the strictly defined context which determines the interplay between politics and theology. At least two indisputable facts in Islamic history shed a different light on the nature of this connection: 1.) Islamic law, theology, and political institutions are not static. They evolved through history as Islamic society developed and acquired needs and addressed issues that were not present or were not considered pressing for earlier generations of Muslims. Not only conflicting views of political power emerged, but also dogmas underwent a definable development when many theological questions were raised without a consensus as to their answers. 2.) Certain political and economic institutions developed outside of the bounds of religion, such as the office of Sultan as a governing military position, and the practice of Iqta' (land-grants) as a politico-economic system. Having emerged to address "secular" needs, religious scholars, Ulama', established religious bases for them. Islamic political theory, as expounded by al-Mawardi, for example, often appears as a justification of a de facto practice.(1) These observations compel us to reexamine the interactive relations between theology and Islamic politics by clarifying the determining factors in, and the social forces behind, their relationship. Such clarification will aid us in our endeavor for a more accurate reading of Islamic history. It will also hopefully provide the conceptual framework within which issues that challenge Muslim societies today can be effectively tackled.

It is within the larger context of the connection between theology and historical development that I approach my study of early Islamic history. For example, Islam's immediate background was greatly influenced by merchants who were socially dominant and by commerce as the main economic activity. Born in a mercantile society, Islam provided solutions to problems that Meccan merchants faced at the turn of the Seventh Century A.D. Thanks to the supportive ideological and institutional structure provided by Islam, merchants prospered economically and politically and commerce expanded throughout the Caliphate.(2)

After nearly a century of Umayyad rule, the Abbasids took over the state as the former were unable to adapt it to the changing realities of Islamic society. The first Abbasid century saw an even greater expansion of commerce. Yet, by the Third Century A.H/9th A.D. merchants lost their political predominance in favor of a revived landed class as the Caliphate began to use Iqta' in a more systematic fashion in the administration of its domain. Henceforward, the society, the office of the Caliph, and many of the institutions and practices acquired different characteristics. New institutions and offices were introduced. This also suggests a new periodization of Islamic history. Two main periods seem to stand out: a commercially based capitalistic period leading to an agrarian based semi-feudal one beginning with the Caliphate of al-Mutawakkil (847 A.D.) who inaugurated the use of administrative iqta' and relied on a land-based bureaucracy.(3)

The transition from one dominant elite to another as a significant feature of this periodization did not proceed without much controversy as the two sides (merchants vs. landlords) articulated their positions within a religious framework. This transition provided the context for theological arguments very much as social strife which followed the murder of Uthman provided the genesis of theological disputes among Muslims.

The state entered into the controversy by supporting one side against the other. The Umayyads, for example, encouraged the Murji'a and suppressed advocates of qadar (man's ability to act). Another aspect of the interplay between the state and theology was in the form of religious inquisition (Arabic mihna). There are two instances when such inquisitions were carried out in the first century of the Abbasid Caliphate, the one started by al-Mahdi in 780 A.D. and the other by al-Ma'mun in 832 A.D.

Concentrating on the first instance, it is said that the chief characteristic of the victims of al-Mahdi's inquisition was their presumed advocacy of Manichaean dualist tendencies instead of the strict monotheism of Islam. Hence, they were accused of heresy and were charged with zandaqa, a word of Persian etymology. Was this action an example of official religious persecution or "national" conflict? Was it an enforcement of a particular "orthodox" view of Islam or did it also have socio-political implications? The intention of this essay is to show that the inquisition, far from being religiously or ethnically motivated, was carried out for political purposes and that it documents the initial stage of the ascendancy of the landed aristocracy and the transition in the Islamic ruling elite. Seen in this light, the attack against the Zanadiqa provides further clues in explaining the interplay between theology and politics, and identifies the social forces that competed for the definition of the state and consequently influenced the course of theological development.

AL-MAHDI'S INQUISITION

Abu 'Abdallah Muhammad al-Mahdi, the third Abbasid Caliph, succeeded his father in 775 A.D. without opposition.(4) As Caliph, al-Mahdi made it a priority to reconcile the 'Alids who could potentially serve as leaders of an opposition. Another priority was to carry out various public works such as the enlargement of mosques already in existence, building new ones, expanding the water supply on the pilgrimage road, etc.(5)

On the whole, the Caliphate of al-Mahdi was peaceful and prosperous and, with the exception of the lingering rebellion of al-Muqanna', internal peace was enjoyed by all. All, that is, except for a group of people who were charged with zandaqa. It was a charge of heresy as the Zanadiqa were accused of articulating positions, and writing tracts, that advocated the Manichaean doctrine of the duality of eternals. Rather than charge them with ilhad (heresy), kufr (unbelief), or ridda (apostasy) which had been widely used in theological argumentation, al-Mahdi revived the very Persian/Zoroastrian designation for the Manichaeans. The significance of utilizing a Persian term, not the more familiar Arabic ones, will become apparent as the discussion of this event unfolds below.

Beginning in 780 and while in Aleppo, al-Mahdi started a policy of persecution which would last for the rest of his reign and that of his successor, al-Hadi, and until a general amnesty was proclaimed by Harun al-Rashid. Al-Mahdi set up a special office in charge of this persecution. The official, known as Sahib al-Zanadiqa, would examine the "suspects," some of whom were reportedly executed. From the apparent account, and according to the current understanding of this event, al-Mahdi's inquisition was directed against former Manichaean Muslims and their ideas which were popularized through the service of Persians and persianized Arameans. Since Manichaeans were not given Dhimmi status like other established religious groups,(6) their conversion to Islam had presumably been without much conviction and mainly in order to keep their employment in the Abbasid administration.(7) Nonetheless, they quickly came to constitute a powerful pressure group at the Abbasid court.(8)

As indicated above, the official charge against those persecuted was zandaqa, the individual was labeled zindiq. The word zindiq is the Arabicized form of the Middle Persian word zandik (followers of Zand). It was the Persian designation to The followers of Mani, founder of Manichaeism.(9) However, the term acquired a wider use during the Abbasid period to include not only those who preached heresies deemed to be a threat to the state and to Islam, but also those who exhibited irreverence toward The Shari'a, and libertarian tendencies.(10) In this category were many well known poets, such as Bashshar ibn Burd, Hammad Ajrad, Ishaq ibn Khalaf, and many others.(11) Poets accused each other of zandaqa. Thus, Bashshar accused Hammad while Hammad claimed that 'Amara ibn Harbiyya was a zindiq. Hammad ibn al-Zibirqan also accused Hammad al-Rawiya as did Abu al-Shamaqmaq to Jamil ibn Mahfuz.(12) That public morality was at stake perhaps explains why the person usually appointed as the Sahib (or 'Arif) al-Zanadiqa was the Muhtasib - market inspector - of the town, such as 'Abd al-Jabbar of Aleppo and his successor 'Umar al-Kalwadhi, as well as Hamdawayh Muhammad ibn Isa al-Maysani of Baghdad.(13)

The frivolity with which the poets considered zandaqa notwithstanding, to be a zindiq was an offense punishable by death. When a rumor concerning a suspected person reached the Sahib al-Zanadiqa (or Sahib al-Khabar), he would begin his investigation by observing the individual. If the inquisitor became convinced, he would arrest the suspect, bring him before the Caliph who would interrogate him and demand his repentance. If the suspect refused, he was executed.(14)

Apart from Bashshar ibn Burd, a known Shi'ite sympathizer, other executions took place. A well known case was the son of Abu 'Ubaydallah, that is Muhammad (or Marwan) ibn Abi 'Ubaydallah. Abu 'Ubaydallah was a competent and upright vizier and nothing could be found to impugn his character. His detractors at the court, especially al-Rabi' ibn Yunis, drummed up the charge that the son was a zindiq and although the son was willing to denounce zandaqa, he was nonetheless put to death (al-Rabi' actually suggested that Abu 'Ubaydallah should perform the execution of his son). Thereafter, it was argued that since the Caliph put the son to death, he no longer could count on the loyalty of the father and Abu 'Ubaydallah was dismissed altogether.(15) Abu Isa al-Warraq and Ali ibn Saleh were other Shi'ite sympathizers who were put to death on charges of zandaqa.(16) The sons of Abdallah ibn al-Muqaffa' were charged with zandaqa and arrested en masse in at-Mada'in.(17)

Not only Persians, but prominent Arabs were also subjected to the inquisition. One was Ya'aqub ibn al-Fadl, a descendant of Abd al-Muttalib of the Clan of Banu Hashim. Having sworn not to kill a Hashimi, al-Mahdi imprisoned Ya'aqub where he languished until his death. Ya'aqub's daughter was also charged with zandaqa. A third was the son of Dawud ibn Ali who also died in prison.(18) Another was Adam, the grandson of 'Umar ibn Abd al-Aziz,(19) the Umayyad Caliph.

There is no telling of the precise number of those who succumbed to the inquisition. The sources are vague and normally mention names of those charged with the offence and, except in a few cases, they do not mention whether the individual was brought for interrogation by the inquisitor or by the Caliph. We are given some names of those who were charged, but their lives were spared, perhaps after having recanted their beliefs. To mention a few, Yazid ibn al-Fayd, the secretary of al-Mansur, Dawud ibn Rawh ibn Hatim, Isma'il ibn Sulayman, Muhammad ibn Abi Ayyub al-Makki, Ibrahim ibn Sayyabah, and Muhammad ibn Tayfur, all repented.(20)

The inquisition against the Zanadiqa was hardly an obscure phenomenon, especially when prominent Arabs and well known literary figures were ecuted as zindiqs. Al-Mahdi made it the centerpiece of his internal policy between 780 and 785. And not only did al-Mahdi follow up his efforts in Aleppo with executions in other cities, such as Baghdad, and Basra, but he also made it a main point of his last will and testament. One would expect that this event deserves serious attention by modern scholarship on the Abbasid period and that a closer analysis is sufficiently warranted for a deeper understanding of the social restructuring undertaken by the new regime. As we shall see below, this episode is still shrouded in mystery, a mystery fostered particularly by the misleading view that it was purely a religious act.

Aside from Vajda already cited and who devoted an article on the persecution of the Zanadiqa in which he gathered most of the references to the event, modern scholars treated the subject, if at all, only in passing and always within the limited confines of a religious framework. M. A. Shaban, taking the Caliph's title to be literally the Mahdi (in the Shi'i sense), claims that the Caliph was trying to promote a sort of one-party system for which he appointed "commissars" to enforce state ideology. When al-Mahdi failed in this effort, he blamed his vizier and "undaunted by this failure and probably as a reaction against it, Mahdi embarked on a purgative campaign against the so-called zanadiqa."(21) There is nothing in the activities of al-Mahdi, nor in his training or in the biographical notices which would suggest that he considered himself, or was considered by his contemporaries, to be the Mahdi. Also, disregarding previous scholarship on the subject, Shaban goes on to say of the Zanadiqa, "Neither the origin of this term nor its derivation can be determined, but this very vagueness and the absence of any common cause among the people who were thus persecuted, lead us to believe that it was a nomenclature intended to cover all those who disagreed with Mahdi's religious policy."(22)

It was precisely this religious policy that grabbed the attention of Marshall Hodgson who states: "Al-Mahdi's piety went beyond words, however. It was expressed in a rigorous communal spirit, championing the exclusive claims to truth of the true community. He did not fail to push (not without great result) the raids on the frontiers against the Byzantine empire; but he waged perhaps as rigorous a campaign internally in a religious persecution of the Manichaeans."(23) Shaban interpreted the campaign against the Zanadiqa as a symptom of al-Mahdi's failed attempt to create a unified ideology while Hodgson saw it as motivated by the Caliph's fear of the Manichaeans because they presented "an attractive alternative both to the Muslim communal spirit and to the sort of piety represented by the ulema'."(24)

Also opting for the religious framework, Ira Lapidus first distinguished between the Umayyads whom he describes as defenders of an Islamic empire and the Abbasids "who made themselves responsible for the defense of what they held to be Islamic orthodoxy against free thinkers and heretics."(25) Since "al-Mahdi claimed to be the protector of Islam against heresy and arrogated the right to define acceptable doctrine,"(26) the persecution of the Zanadiqa was inevitable. But if building new mosques, enlarging old ones, attacking Byzantium, and persecuting heretics define a caliph as pious beyond words and allow him to arrogate the definition of an acceptable orthodoxy, as Lapidus sees it, contrasting the Umayyads to the Abbasids in this instance is meaningless since both built new mosques, enlarged old ones, attacked Byzantium, and executed those they considered heretics. Therefore, al-Mahdi's inquisition, affecting Arabs and Persians, Shi'ites and non-Shi'ites, couched as it were in religious terms, cannot be understood solely within a presumed religious policy of the Abbasids in general or of al-Mahdi in particular. Clearly, other factors must be taken into account for a fuller understanding of this event.

Writers in Arabic devoted more attention to the Zanadiqa than have Western scholars and they were not as vague regarding its motives. Khalil Ibrahim Jaffal says that the Zanadiqa "infiltrated the posts within the administration, and the modes and methods of their destruction of Islamic society became varied [so much so that] zandaqa penetrated the society and became active in the attempt to demolish the religion and to uproot it."(27) Therefore, al-Mahdi justifiably attacked the Zanadiqa since they were judged a threat to Islam. Consequently, the Zanadiqa failed to organize their movement in Iraq and concentrated instead on Persia where they rallied a number of revolutionary movements, with the aim to wipe out the rule of the Arabs and Islam (al-qada' 'ala al-'Arab wa al-Islam) and to revert to their pre-Islamic religion and political tradition.(28) Samira al-Laythi was more condemning of the Zanadiqa, invariably seeing all movements that strayed from the mainstream as inimical to Arabism and Islam. She even went so far as to condemn the Abbasids themselves accusing them of nurturing zandaqa. She considers Abu Muslim, among other Abbasid Da'is (propagandists), as the head of the Zanadiqa.(29) Abd al-Aziz al-Duri was not as uncritical as Jaffal or al-Laythi although he remained within the general framework seeing zandaqa as a form of an internal attack against Islam and the Arabs. The problem, according to Duri, starts with the movement known as Shu'ubiyya who began by disparaging Arabs, then Arabic, then Islam. This is so since there is an organic connection between Arabs, Arabic, and Islam. Accordingly, to attack the one is to attack the other. Therefore, the Shu'ubiyya, according to al-Duri, was the driving force behind zandaqa.(30)

Although the Shu'ubiyya movement was not fled specifically to al-Mahdi's reign, reaching its height during the first half of the Third Century A.H., its connection to zandaqa was brought out also by Jaffal and al-Laythi. They argue that both movements were Persian staffed and inspired and both aimed at one and the same thing: the destruction of Islam and Arab rule. Jaffal and al-Laythi, along with al-Duri, provided a nationalist interpretation of the movement seeing it as the Persians' way of attacking the Arabs in order to "demolish" their rule and to restore that of the Sasanids. They insisted on that interpretation, even though the movement was seen as a reaction against the discriminatory policies of the Umayyads. The movement emerged with the Abbasids, it is argued further, because they created the type of environment which nurtured such "nationalist" sentiments among the Persians.(31) Viewing this as a serious turn of events, al-Laythi rebuked the Abbasids, whose revolution she considered a mawali (i.e. a Persian) revolution and that their revolutionary rhetoric in turn spawned the Shu'ubiyya and zandaqa.(32) Al-Laythi wrote at a time when it was generally believed that the Abbasid Revolution was a Persian revolution. But that has since been disproved by M. A. Shaban. Richard Bulliet also, in his study on conversion to Islam, concludes that graphs of Iranian converts show the validity of Shaban's assertion regarding the Arab character of the Abbasid Revolution, despite the fact that it started in eastern Iran.(33) Mustafa Shakir provides another view when he says that the Shu'ubiyya constituted the larger framework within which the Zanadiqa operated.(34)

The relationship between Shu'ubiyya and zandaqa is not as starkly emphasized by Western authors who see the former primarily as a literary movement with little, if any, "nationalist" aspirations. Lapidus says that the Shu'ubiyya controversy over the supremacy of Arabic or Persian literary values was partly a court-centered dispute.(35) Gustave von Grunebaum says that the Shu'ubis remained within the framework of Arabic and Islam and that there is "no evidence that Iranian Shu'ubis cultivated the Persian language . . . nor is there any sign of a connection between the Shu'ubite kuttab and the anti-Islamic movements which were time and again springing up in Iran."(36) W. M. Watt regards the movement also as primarily a literary movement and, for "the secretary class this was a safer way than zandaqa of giving vent to feelings of dissatisfaction with the existing situation."(37) It is H. A. R. Gibb, however, who informs most of the Western scholars' view of this phenomenon. He takes for granted that it was a literary movement and denies that it had any Persian nationalist sentiments. Gibb claims that the issue at stake was "the whole cultural orientation of the new Islamic society - whether it was to become a re-embodiment of the old Perso-Aramaean culture into which the Arabic and Islamic elements would be absorbed, or a culture in which the Perso-Aramaean contributions would be subordinated to the Arab tradition and the Islamic values."(38) Gibb contends that Perso-Aramaean culture inherently contains Manichaean tendencies, zandaqa. But, one should recall that Perso-Aramaean culture also contained, if not heavily slanted toward, Zoroastrian tendencies, inimical to that of the Manichaeans. Therefore, what Gibb left unanswered the political dimension of the culture in question. As we shall see below, the answer is directly related to the nature of the new elite which was to dominate the political system.

Hence, the fact that the Shu'ubiyya and the Zanadiqa were considered disguised Persian attacks on Arabs and Islam does not explain much. Nor does the claim that one is a milder form of criticism than the other shed meaningful light on their relationship. Some of those mentioned as Zanadiqa were Arabs of prominent families. And if granted that some who were executed believed in the duality of eternals, it seems that not all of the executions were religiously motivated. The execution of the son of Abu 'Ubaydallah clearly was politically motivated as it was instigated by the vizier's rivals. The execution of Bashshar ibn Burd, Abu 'Isa al-Warraq, and 'Ali ibn Salih could also be politically motivated since they were known to hold pro-Shi'ite sympathies. Although Muti' ibn Iyas (also known for his pro-Shi'ite sympathies) was accused of zandaqa, the Caliph pardoned him. This favoritism was politically inspired since Muti' is known to have supported the elevation of al-Mahdi to the position of an heir apparent (against Isa ibn Musa) and to have "fabricated" a hadith blessing the Caliphate of al-Mahdi.(39) The execution of Saleh ibn 'Abd al-Quddus cannot be described as religiously motivated because his writings, as Farouk Omar says, do not show any traces of zandaqa.(40) Clearly the religious and "nationality" arguments offer only a superficial interpretation of this controversy, especially in light of the fact that the Shu'ubiyya were supported while the Zanadiqa were persecuted. The disparity in their treatment is explained by their competing political cultures as we shall see below.

MANI AND MANICHAEISM

Having argued thus far that political motives were behind the inquisition, we still need to understand the background of those who were persecuted. This will help us analyze the political culture under debate and articulate the nature of the shift within the political elite that would dominate the Abbasid regime.

Mani, founder of Manichaeism, was born on 14 April 216 A.D. at a time when the Roman emperor Caracalla was conducting an expedition against the Parthians in Mesopotamia. He was born to a princely family in a country which witnessed the conflict between the two empires, the encounter between two cultures, Hellenistic and Persian, and the rivalry between two major religions, Christianity and Zoroastrianism.(41) His birth occurred barely a decade before Ardashir I established the Sasanid dynasty in Persia. His prophethood began around the year 240 A.D. He acquired several powerful followers among the Sasanid house which allowed him to travel and preach throughout the Sasanid realm, the Soghdian territories of central Asia, and India.(42) Shapur I allowed the Manichaeans and other religious groups to practice their religion. His successor, Hormizd I, was also well disposed toward Mani and his preaching. It was the latter's successor, Bahram I (274-277) who, under the influence of the chief Zoroastrian priest Kartir, turned against Mani and had him imprisoned. Mani died 26 days into his imprisonment most probably in February 277 A.D.(43) Manichaeism, henceforward, was declared a heresy persecuted in the Sasanid realm. Also, the Roman emperors Diocletian (in 297), Constantine (in 326), Valentinian (in 372), and Theodosius (in 381) all issued edicts against Mani and his creed.(44) The Christian Church also attacked Manichaeism, especially after Augustine of Hippo (St. Augustine) left it for Christianity. Manichaeism continued to decline in the Roman provinces and in its homeland following the Sasanid persecution. It flourished only amongst the Soghdians, notably the merchants, whose territory provided reliable communications and transit points in the trade along the Silk Route. Later on, the Turkish Uighur prince Bugug Khan. (760-780 A.D.) even declared Manichaeism the state religion.(45) A cursory glimpse at Manichaeism would explain the harsh attack against it by both the Romans and the Sasanids and would shed light on the underlying reasons behind the Abbasid inquisition. Mani preached at a time when Zoroastrianism was not yet declared the state religion by the Sasanids under Bahram I, nor was Christianity by the Romans under Theodosius. Owing its genesis to Christianity and Zoroastrianism, Mani's religion was an amalgamation of principles derived from both creeds, if not more heavily reliant on the latter. It was to be both definitive and universal. Mani claimed that his religion "is in ten things above and better than other, previous religions." It would be manifest in every country and in all languages. It would not fall into disorder at the death of its founder, and above all, knowledge and wisdom, the bases of salvation, will reach unprecedented levels.(46) Moreover, as Widengren suggests in his attempt to explain its appeal, especially to people of the calibre of St. Augustine, Manichaeism seemed to have the "apparent ability to suggest a complete cosmic interpretation, endeavoring at the very first examination to offer a rational explanation of all phenomena."(47)

Grounded heavily in Zoroastrianism, Manichaeism nonetheless differed markedly from its sources. The difference lies in the conception of the cosmic forces of Ahuramazda and Ahriman, good and evil, respectively. In Zoroastrianism, Ahuramazda, the god of Light, the supreme being, is eternal, while Ahriman, the god of Darkness, is created. Creation is seen as the intermingling of light and darkness with Ahuramazda taking up the struggle against evil. The end of the world comes when Evil, or Darkness, is defeated.

In contrast, Manichaeism sees the end of the world in the mere separation of the cosmic forces,(48) since Ahuramazda and Ahriman are co-eternals. They have no origin, but are themselves the origin. They are of equal strength and have nothing in common. As such "the two realms exist side by side, completely unconnected, and the Light, far from considering the existence of Darkness as a challenge, wants nothing but the separateness and has neither benevolent nor ambitious tendency to enlighten its opposite. For the Darkness is what it is destined to be, and left to itself it fulfills its nature as Light fulfills its own."(49)

In Manichaeism, Ahuramazda (spirit) is self-content and, therefore, passive. It is Ahriman (matter) who is active and who initiates the process of mingling of the two realms. Ahriman creates Adam and Eve as a deliberate counter-move against the strategy of Light.(50)

Manichaeism, essentially holds, despite its rational bent, a pessimistic view of man: The spirit is trapped in the body (matter) and can attain salvation only by rejecting the body. This explains Manichaiesm's anti-materialist, ascetic tendencies. And, as Michael Morony says, the challenge of Manichaeism was mainly in its social implications, in its rejection of the material world, of work, of violence (the hunt, war, or the slaughtering of animals), in its rejection of agriculture and sources of wealth (contrary to Zoroastrian ethos which encouraged agriculture), and finally in its rejection of legal procedures.(51) In its social outlook, due to its bipolar cosmology, Manichaeism was anti-hierarchical and anti-authoritarian (duality of eternals implies that there is no absolute truth). This creed emerged at a time when the Sasanid dynasty was consolidating its rule based on a strict hierarchical structure of nobles, priests, warriors, scribes and cultivators. Zoroastrianism itself was undergoing final consolidation as its sacred text, the Avesta, was canonized. Widengren says that "the assembly of the Avesta presents itself as a deliberate counterpart to the doctrinal books of Mani,"(52) a step that paved the way for the recognition of Zoroastrianism as state creed.

Having succeeded in denouncing Mani and his religion, Zoroastrian religious officials proceeded to consolidate their religious hierarchy which eventually resembled the state in its hierarchy. At the apex was the magopatan magopat, the chief priest, who became a member of the royal court, who helped determine succession to the throne, and held the semi-annual court of judicial review which considered complaints against the king. Under him came a host of lesser priests who combined administrative, judicial, ritual and educational responsibilities.(53) Carsten Colpe remarked on this similitude by saying that "the relationship between a hierarchically structured religion, which Zoroastrianism had become through the subordination of other gods to Zoroaster's Ahuramazda, and a hierarchically organized state, which is what the Sasanian empire developed into by a series of economic and social circumstances, must be of mutual dependence and mutual assistance."(54) A consolidated Zoroastrianism not only transformed its priesthood into a major property-holding institution, but also insisted on the divine character of creation, including that of political institutions. Thus, the king represents the rule of Ahuramazda over the earth. In the reliefs depicting the coronation of Ardashir I and Shapur I, Ahriman is seen as the enemy of the mounted kings; the kings are represented by Ahuramazda himself. In the relief depicting the coronation of Ardashir II, Ahuramazda is seen standing right next to the king.(55) Absolute authority did not only win out, but with Zoroastrianism it became divinely sanctioned.

The preceding discussion suggests that the social manifestation of Zoroastrianism favors absolute authority dominating a hierarchical society based on the supremacy of the aristocratic landed class. It is clear why Manichaeism with its anti-materialist, anti-hierarchical outlook was seen as a threat to the existing socio-political order and why, therefore, it was declared a heresy. Its followers were persecuted and pushed from the Persian heartland where their influence became limited to central Asia. Hostility between the landed aristocracy and Manichaeism deepened. As their belligerency endured, the divergence in the cosmology of Zoroastrianism and Manichaeism became secondary to their social and political outlook. Excluded from the center of power, both socially and geographically, Manichaeism survived among Soghdian merchants and their outposts along the central Asian trade routes. With this distinction between the material dimension of the two religions, it becomes easier now to explain, in socio-economic and political terms, al-Mahdi's inquisition within its Abbasid context.

THE NEW ABBASID SOCIAL ORDER

It is no coincidence that the campaign against the Zanadiqa is intimately tied to the foundation of the Abbasid Caliphate. The background involves social trends which emerged at the latter part of the Umayyad Caliphate. The Umayyads distinguished between Arab and non-Arab Muslims, the mawali. The discrimination was not merely social. It also had economic implications, especially with regard to taxation. As an outgrowth of Umayyad social policies, there grew two competing trends, the Qaysiyya and the Yemeniyya. They were two contending socio-political forces: one championing exclusive Arab dominance and the other favoring integration fostered by the long interaction and intermarriage between Arab and Persian Muslims. For example, the Mawali population of Basra was estimated at the time of the Umayyad governor 'Ubaydallah ibn Ziyad (64 A.H./684 A. D.) to have been 150,000. Thus, along with Kufa, there would be upward of 300,000 Persian converts in those Iraqi cities alone who were forced to live with their discriminatory status.(56) By the time of Umar II (ibn Abd al-Aziz, 718-720 A.D.) there had been several generations of Persian converts who acquired Arabic names, spoke Arabic, and had built various relations with Arabs such that for all practical purposes no immediate distinction could be found between the Arab and the Persian Muslim. Dissatisfaction with the status quo was expressed equally and justifiably by Arabs and Persians. Umar II attempted to respond to the demands of the integrationist essentially by introducing a unified taxation policy which removed the bases of discrimination. This decision by Umar II to enlarge the system made Islam, not ethnicity, the basis of social relations. Umar's move represents a watershed in the structural makeup of the Islamic state and would have deep ramifications in the periods to follow.

Following the sudden death of Umar II, however, the Qaysiyya regained power, but not without opposition expressed in frequent and violent revolts which enabled the Abbasids to forge a coalition of all the discontented elements. The Abbasids owed their success to their more inclusive social and ideological program. They championed Islam, a more universal criterion for participation in the socio-economic and political order. This shift did not lead to an Abbasid formulation or enforcement of a particular Islamic orthodoxy. In fact, they stripped the state of an orthodoxy, that of the Umayyads. This is supported by the fact that spirited, if not at times contentious, debates went on between various schools of Islamic law, as well as a marked increase in the mystical, the rationalist, and the traditionalist interpretations of Islam, among other tendencies. The significant import of the Abbasid program lies in the fact that by making the state ethnically neutral, in conformity with the universal nature of the creed, they not only saved the state, but also reinforced it.

The inclusive nature of the new social order is attested to by the proclamation of absolute equality among Muslims which, in effect, abrogated the discriminatory status of the mawla as well as the unfavorable policies and practices against the Persian Muslims. As a result, W. M. Watt says "the 'Abbasids satisfied the aspirations of the mawali by ceasing to make any juridical distinction between Arab and non-Arab. At the same time many Persians and persianized Aramaeans received positions as 'secretaries' or civil servants."(57) In an attempt to identify this ideological shift, Lapidus says that "the new dynasty returned to the principles of 'Umar II" and that the "new regime committed itself to the deliberate recruitment of a wide and representative spectrum of Middle Eastern elites and promoted them to the highest military and administrative offices."(58) However, if left at that, Lapidus would be describing only the tip of the iceberg, since this "deliberate recruitment of a wide and representative spectrum" confirms the presence of a systematic and conscious policy. What is also significant is the fact that such a policy was in line with what the Yemeniyya and like-minded integrationists had called for earlier. Lest cause and effect be confused, the state, in "ceasing to make any juridical distinction between Arab and non-Arab" and in its policy of "deliberate recruitment", was responding and accommodating itself to social demands.

It was not simply the emergence of a new regime, a new bureaucracy, and a new social order which is meaningful here. What the Abbasids did was to institutionalize a state in conformity with the existing realities of an expansive empire; not a fortuitous act, but one that corresponded with the complexities of the empire and which was required to save the state from imminent threats of secession. This institutionalization had wide and tangible effects on the variegated Islamic peoples. Thus, Baghdad, the newly built seat of the Caliphate, reflected in planning and in population this new and urban society. With the removal of the discriminatory practices against the non-Arab Muslims in the economic sphere, commerce thrived and prosperity increased. Baghdad acquired a cosmopolitan character and continued to expand although the majority remained Persians. The influence of the Persians grew as more of them converted to Islam. The success of the Abbasids' new policy is measured by the fact that when they came to power in 750 A.D., only 8 percent of the Iranians had converted to Islam. By the end of the century fully 40 percent of the population had converted.(59)

The substantial number of Persians and persianized Aramaeans who convened to Islam had, however, varied economic backgrounds. Some were, or became, merchants in the new urban centers where they prospered. The economic boom which ensued after the coming of the Abbasids was not accidental, but the logical result of the abrogation of ethnic division and the unification of the tax system, one harnessing the market forces and the other bringing increased revenues to the state. Other converts, however, were from the landed ethnic aristocracies. In fact, the dihqans (village heads) were the most eager converts, anxious to preserve their landed property. They had begun to convert earlier, but with the advent of the Abbasids, more of the land-proper-tied class converted as they felt reassured about their noble status. The Abbasid elite also began to reflect a similarly diversified background: merchants, shopkeepers, artisans, and the land-owning aristocracy.

Ethnic origin no longer determined social differentiation. As they spread the new creed for a century and a half, Arabs also acquired land. Arabs and Persians could be found on either side of this economic structure, i.e. merchants and landlords. Thus, with the foundation of the Abbasid dynasty the ethnic social classes of the Sasanid empire were revived within an Islamic framework. Significantly, however, the landed class emerged more powerful due to their wealth and to their alliance with already powerful Arab landowners. This fusion was officially sanctioned by the formalization of the office of vizier, staffed largely by Persians with aristocratic background. Subservient to the Caliph, it became the second most powerful office. The case of the Barmak family, whose members served as viziers for several decades, represents the most remarkable illustration of the unprecedented level of power, wealth, status, and influence which could be attained by non-Arab Muslims in the Abbasid Caliphate. To clearly identify the transformation in the Abbasid ruling elite, one has only to contrast the legal environment which promoted individuals like the Barmaks to such heights with that of the Umayyad period when non-Arab Muslims were inferior as mawalis. With the coming of the Abbasids, therefore, the scales were tipped in favor of a reinforced landed aristocracy strengthened by the fusion of Arab and non-Arab landlords. Consequently, modifications to the political culture of the Caliphate would soon follow as the state was called upon once more to adjust to changing realities.

THE FORMATION OF A NEW POLITICAL CULTURE

To demonstrate the social fusion and to facilitate the administration of the Caliphate, the Abbasids employed a great number of Persians and persianized Aramaeans in the bureaucracy. Experienced and skilled in administrative matters, they served their new masters, even translating treatises on government from Persian when the need arose. Hence, they encouraged the wave of translations which brought into Arabic works from other cultures dealing with various fields of knowledge.

Translation into Arabic also led Arabic literature to flourish and be more widely disseminated during the early Abbasid period. Two types of translations are relevant to our discussion. One was concerned, as indicated, with the translation of works pertaining to the art of government, thus drawing on the body of administrative experiences of the Sasanid court. In responding to the organization of the newly defined state, the scribes had no qualms in drawing from that tradition since it was what they knew best and since the pre-Islamic Arab political tradition was held insufficient to manage an empire, as the Abbasid Caliphate had become. However, in asserting Sasanid tradition, the scribes expressed themselves negatively by showing that the Arab political tradition could not offer anything comparable to imperial protocol.

In the literary debate that ensued (with the other wing of the bureaucracy), some went so far as to belittle the Arab contribution altogether. Those were considered Shu'ubis, in the sense that they were perceived to be anti-Arab, and indeed some may have exaggerated their denouncement of the Arabs. Being anti-Arab, they were also thought to be, as al-Duri says, anti-Islamic. What is significant, however, is that the Shu'ubis felt no inhibition in writing in Arabic, which by then had become lingua Islamica, (some of them are luminaries in classical Arabic literature) and they certainly received official patronage which weakens the argument that they were seeking the restoration of the Sasanid empire. Operating within a multi-ethnic society, they were fighting for their "space," just as minorities are currently doing in the U.S. This aspect was noted by Amin Banani for whom "the Shu'ubiyya debate can be viewed in terms of cultural ethnocentricity. It reveals to us the values of the competing self-conscious elite classes of the two cultures."(60) Von Grunebaum succinctly said of the Shu'ubis that they "saw themselves as no more than champions and protectors of their own position within the umma."(61)

We have stated earlier that the Shu'ubiyya debate was largely court-centered and devoted to the managerial aspects of government on the model of the Sasanids. We also noted that this model was that of an authoritarian and hierarchically structured society, dominated by a land-owning aristocracy, and led by a divinely sanctioned absolute monarch. In incorporating this aspect of the Sasanid imperial tradition, the Shu'ubis were most useful for the new state in the formation of the new political culture. Lapidus summed up this contribution: "Persian ideas emphasized the absolute and unlimited authority of the monarch, his divine selection, and his superiority in matters of religion as well as state."(62) Therefore, it must be for their support of such a ruler that the Shu'ubis were allowed to produce their tracts, despite their negative characterization of the Arabs. The Shu'ubis seem to have enjoyed their immunity, therefore, not only for their contribution to Arabic literature, but especially for providing ideological grounds for a political culture based on the dominance of landed-aristocracy, now that the latter have become a significant component of the ruling elite. The fact that they received patronage while the Zanadiqa were persecuted highlights the distinction between the two movements.

The second and distinct type of translation emerged among the new urban middle class, which included Arabs and non-Arabs alike, of whom Gibb noted as "engaged in trade and commerce [and had] attained a certain degree of wealth, and showed an increasing interest in literature . . . . They looked for something less heavy, and found it partly in the new poetry and the ghazal, and partly in the literary production of the secretarial school."(63) In response to the demands of this eager "market," hundreds of these entertaining works were translated by the scribes. Translations of Manichaean works by Mani, Marcion and Ibn Daysan were also made available. Muti' ibn Iyas, Hammad Ajrad, Yahya ibn Ziyad and Abd al-Karim ibn Abi al-Awja' translated Manichaean tracts.(64) The translators took the opportunity to enter into the general theological debate already going on among the Muslims. Many of those charged with zandaqa were Mutakallimun - theologians, such as Ibn Talout, Abu Shakir, his nephew Ibn al-A'da al-Kharizi, Nu'man ibn Abi al-Awja', and Salih ibn Abd al-Quddus. They were accused of zandaqa for having written works defending the dualist principle of Manichaeism and tracts where they responded to attacks against their ideas by other theologians.(65)

The Zanadiqa were attacked on other grounds. In the atmosphere of the foundation of a new political culture, the debate on the use of hadith as a source of Islamic law intensified to an unprecedented level. Some Zanadiqa were part of this discussion. Abd al-Karim ibn Abi al-Awja' was himself a Muhaddith (compiler of Hadith). Those compilers were accused of "fabricating" their hadiths, complicating further the charges against them.(66) Yet, as it was mentioned above, Muti' ibn Iyas was known to have fabricated a hadith blessing the Caliphate of al-Mahdi, and although faced with charges of zandaqa on other grounds, Muti' was spared any punishment. The reason for the selective nature of their arrests suggests that the ideas they represented as hadith were either judged as historical inventions or threatening to the emerging system. In the exigency of this system, the judgment of historical invention seems to have been selective also. Compilers eventually created a science designed to authenticate hadiths. The corpus of what was judged sahih (correct, accepted) hadith is, therefore, the expression of the different social forces and, accordingly, it mirrors the society that produced it. The presence of divergent hadiths and other traditions is historiographically fortunate since it should give the historian direct insight into that society.

Given the content of those deemed fabricated hadiths, the attempt seems to have been the legitimation of the position of a group within the Umma,(67) very much like the Shu'ubiyya was described by von Grunebaum above. But rather than achieving this aim by the revival of a political tradition which might initially be considered alien to the Arabs and Islam, this attempt was done by the use of an "internal" mechanism and which was widely accessible, hadith. With the anomalies surrounding the "fabrication" of hadith, I would suggest that the grave issue was not only the fabrication, but also the kind of political culture that would be revived by those so engaged. The duality of eternals was in opposition to the religious environment prevalent at the time, the oneness of God. The resultant anti-materialist, anti-hierarchical and anti-authoritarian tendencies of dualism also ran counter to the political culture that the Abbasids and their allies in the Persian aristocracy were implementing through the work of the Shu'ubiyya. Therefore, the attack on the Zanadiqa was occasioned by no less than a clash of two kinds of political cultures, never mind that both harked back to pre-Islamic Sasanid times. The Caliphate, augmented by a hierarchically inclined Persian landed aristocracy and supported by a monotheistic ideology branded the pro-Manichaean scribes as heretics, as zindiqs, very much as the Sasanid/Zoroastrians did before. Thus, to entrench the new elite and to redefine the Islamic state, that age-old foe of the landed aristocracy, the Manichaeans, were rooted-out. It must be restated that this persecution was not necessarily an affirmation of an "orthodoxy" since belief in the oneness of God is a basic tenet in Islam, common to all Muslims whether Sunnis, Shi'is, Kharijis, Murji'ites, or Mu'tazilites. Accordingly and in light of the above discussion, it is misleading to view the attack on the Zanadiqa only in a religious context, as Shaban, Hodgson, Lapidus and a host of other writers have done. It is equally misleading to view the phenomenon within a nationalist context since both Arabs and Persians were accused of zandaqa. The inconsistencies which emerge in the purely religious or nationalist interpretation are harmonized if the inquisition is viewed, as has been demonstrated above, as an attack on an undesirable political culture inimical to aristocratic and absolutist rule. It must not be construed, however, that this was an attack on commerce and merchants (being the primary patrons of the movement) or a rejection of their activities, it was an incorporation of those into a new system. It remains, nonetheless, a poignant reaffirmation of a political culture which had placed merchants in the lower echelons of the social order. The final triumph of the landed aristocracy in Abbasid society would be occasioned by the circumstances surrounding the Mu'tazili-Hanbali controversy and the second inquisition, half a century later, after which iqta' was practiced widely by the state.

Several concluding remarks emerge out of the above discussion. The inquisition should not be seen as a religious policy to affirm an orthodoxy. It was, rather, an affirmation of a new socio-political culture in light of the change in the nature of the ruling elite brought about by the Abbasid social program. The Shu'ubiyya debate and the Zanadiqa were two different movements, despite the fact that both relied on Sasanid precedents. The theological debates that accompanied those controversies clearly show that theology and politics are mutually interdependent, much like an ideology to a modern state, and neither is static as one influences the other. In this case it seems that theology was subordinated to state expediency. It is incumbent upon those concerned, therefore, to investigate the various factors in the interplay between theology and politics lest the phrase "Islam din wa dawla" become a static cliche, not the heuristic tool that produces dynamic readings of Islamic history. With the rise of a new dominant elite we should reassess the periodization of Islamic history in light of the transition from a commercial to a land-based social order. Only then can we better understand the significant transformations which took place in Islamic society after the Third Century A.H. The transformation from merchant to landlord control is documentable through the widespread use and evolution of iqta', an institution, or a practice, concerned with the governance of land. As the history of any society is characterized by the presence of social forces at odds or antagonistic to each other, focusing on that contradiction is essential to describe, if not explain, historical development. And as social forces are always present within a society, rivalry between them is expressed, among other things, in theological and philosophical discourse. In Islamic history, this is best evoked by the polemics by (and against) Ibn Hanbal, al-Ghazali, Ibn Rushd, Ibn Tumart, and Ibn Taymiyya. The more we learn about the society that lived those debates, the more we should become aware that the debate goes on.

NOTES

1. Ali b. Muhammad al-Mawardi, al-Ahkam al-Sultaniyya, Cairo: al-Matba'a al-Tawfiqiyya, 1978, where, for example, precedence is found for the designation Of more than two heirs apparent (p. 14); for the rules of the vizirate (pp. 23ff); for the relationship of the Sultan (Amir al-Jaysh) to the Caliph (pp. 31ff); for the rules of iqta' (pp. 216-225).

2. Mahmood Ibrahim, Merchant Capital and Islam. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1990, pp. 75ff.

3. Mahmood Ibrahim, "Iqta' and the Periodization of Islamic History," Paper presented to the annual conference of the Middle Eastern Studies Association, San Antonio, Texas, 1990; see also Ibrahim, Merchant Capital, pp. 182ff.

4. For an overview of al-Mahdi's training see Hugh Kennedy, The Early Abbasid Caliphate. London: Croom Helm, 1981, pp. 96-97.

5. Farouk Omar, "Some Observation on the Reign of the 'Abbasid Caliph al-Mahdi 185/775-169/785," Arabica 21 (1974), pp. 139-140; M. A. Shaban, Islamic History: A New Interpretation 750-1005. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1976, p. 22; see also Hugh Kennedy, "al-Mahdi," Encyclopedia of Islam. New Edition [q.v.].

6. Marshall Hodgson, The Venture of Islam, Vol. 1, The Classical Age of Islam. Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1974, p. 289.

7. W. M. Watt, The Formative Period of Islamic Thought. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1973, p. 172.

8. Kennedy, "al-Mahdi".

9. Geo Widengren, Mani and Manichaeism. Translated by Charles Kessler, New York: Holt, Reinehart and Winston, 1965, p. 128; Geo Widengren, "Manichaeism and its Iranian Background," Cambridge History of Iran, Vol. 3 (2). ed. E. Yarshater, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983, p. 989; see also Louis Massignon, "Zindik," Encyclopedia of Islam, First Edition, [q.v.]. The unambiguity of the origin of the term is revealed in a proclamation by Shapur I legalizing the practices of all the religions in his realm. The proclamation reads "[All] Magi, Zandiks (Manichaeans), Jews, Christians and all men of whatever religion should be left undisturbed and at peace in their beliefs." See Carsten Colpe, "Development of Religious Thought," Cambridge History of Iran, Vol. 3 (2), p. 879.

10. Kennedy, Early-Abbasid Caliphate, p. 97; W. M. Watt, The Majesty that was Islam. London: Sedjwick and Jackson, 1974, p. 111.

11. G. Vajda, "Les Zindiqs en Pays d'Islam au debut de la Period Abbasid, "Rivista degli Studi Orientali, 17 (1938); pp. 18.

12. Khalil Ibrahim Jaffal, Al-Shu'ubiyya wa al-Adab: Ab'ad wa Madmunat. Beirut: Dar al-Nidal Press, 1986, pp. 177-118; Vajda, "Les Zindiqs," pp. 197, 203, 214.

13. Vajda, "Les Zindiqs," p. 183; Mustafa Shakir, Dawlat Bani Abbas. Vol. 2, Kuwait: Wakalat al-Matbu'at, 1974, p. 224.

14. Omar, "Observations," p. 142.

15. Vajda, "Les Zindiqs," p. 182; Omar, 'Observation," p. 142.

16. Vajda, "Les Zindiqs," p. 181; Jaffal, Al-Shu'ubiyya wa al-Adab, pp. 99, 114; Shakir, Dawlat Bani Abbas, pp. 227-228.

17. Vajda, "Les Zindiqs," p. 183.

18. Omar, "Observations," p. 142; Jaffal, Al-Shu'ubiyya wa al-Adab, pp. 100f.

19. Shakir, Dawlat Bani Abbas, p. 228.

20. Shakir, Dawlat Bani Abbas, pp. 228-229.

21. Shaban, Islamic History, p. 22.

22. Shaban, ibid.

23. Hodgson, ibid.

24. Hodgson, ibid.

25. Ira Lapidus, A History of Muslim Societies, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988, pp. 87-88.

26. Lapidus, A History, pp. 88, 124.

27. Jaffal, Al-Shu'ubiyya wa al-Adab, p. 108.

28. Jaffal, Al-Shu'ubiyya wa al-Adab, pp. 137, 139-140.

29. Al-Laythi, Al-Zandaqa wa al-Shu'ubiyya, Cairo: The Anglo-Egyptian Press, 1968, pp. 52-54; 56-58; 66; 107ff. Abd al-Hadi al-Fakiki, Al-Shu'ubiyya wa al-Qawmiyya al-Arabiyya. (Beirut: Dar al-Adab, 1972) is totally uncritical to the point of seeing the efforts of the Sasanid empire to defend itself as anti-Arab. Every imaginable revolt against the state was considered a Shu'ubi revolt. See for example pp. 15, 20, 24, 39, passim.

30. Abd al-Aziz al-Duri, Al-Judhur al-Tarikhiyya al-Shu'ubiyya. Beirut: Dar al-Tali'ah, 1980, pp. 58; 63-69; 93.

31. Jaffal, Al-Shu'ubiyya wa al-Adab, pp. 54-57

32. Al-Laythi, Al-Shu'ubiyya wa al-Zandaqa, pp. 64-68.

33. M.A. Shaban, The Abbasid Revolution. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970; Richard Bulliet, Conversion to Islam in the Medieval Period. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1979, p. 43; Lapidus, A History, p. 67 also agrees that the Abbasid Revolution was largely Arab supported.

34. Shakir, Dawlat Bani Abbas, p. 186.

35. Lapidus, A History, p. 123; see also Watt, Formative, p. 172f.

36. Gustave E. von Grunebaum, Classical Islam: A History 600-1258. Chicago: Aldine Publishing Company, 1970, p. 87.

37. W. M. Watt, Formative, p. 172.

38. H. A. R. Gibb, "The Social Significance of Shu'ubiyya," Studies on the Civilization of Islam. Edited by Stanford Shaw and William Polk, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1982, p. 66.

39. Jaffal, Al-Shu'ubiyya wa al-Adab, p. 122.

40. Omar, "Observations," p. 143.

41. Jes P. Asmussen, Manichaean Literature. Persian Heritage Series, no. 22. Delmar, N.Y.: Scholars' Facsimiles and Reprints, 1975, pp. 8f.; see also Hans Jonas, The Gnostic Religion. Boston: Beacon Press, 1958, p. 208; Geo Widengren, Mani and Manichaeism. New York: Holt, Reinhart and Winston, 1965, pp. 1-24.

42. Widengren, Mani and Manichaeism, pp. 27, 30ff.; Asmussen, Manichaean Literature.

43. It is said that Mani died under the weight of his own shackles; Widengren, Mani and Manichaeism, pp. 39, 41; Asmussen, Manichaean Literature, p. 54. Jonas, Gnostic Religion, p. 208, says that Mani was crucified in 275 A.D.

44. Asmussen, Manichaean Literature, p. 18; Widengren, Mani and Manichaeism, pp. 118-119; see also his "Manichaeism and its Iranian Background," pp. 986ff.

45. Asmussen, Manichaean Literature, p. 18; Widengren, Mani and Manichaeism, pp. 132-134; Widengren, "Manichaean Background." p. 989.

46. Asmussen, Manichaean Literature, pp. 12f., 17, 60.

47. Widengren, Mani and Manichaeism, p. 123; see also his "Iranian Background," passim.

48. Colpe, "Development of Religious Thought," p. 859. For a discussion of Zoroastrianism, see J. Duchesne-Guillman, "Zoroastrian Religion," Cambridge History of Iran. Vol. 3 (2), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983.

49. Jonas, Gnostic Religion. P. 211; Asmussen, Manichaean Literature, p. 113.

50. Jonas, Gnostic Religious. Pp. 214-215, 227; see also Asmussen, Manichaean Literature, p. 14.

51. Michael Morony. Iraq after the Muslim Conquest. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984, pp. 406-407; see also Widengren, Mani and Manichaeism, pp. 39-41 for the charges brought by Kartir against Mani and Bahram's angry denunciations of Mani's lack of support for the hunt.

52. Widengren, Mani and Manichaeism, p. 33.

53. Morony, Iraq, pp. 281-282. He goes on to say that the priests were responsible for enforcement of the royal decrees, acted as a check on other officials, especially with regard to taxation, authenticated documents, ensured proper weights and measures.

54. Carsten Colpe, "Development of Religious Thought," pp. 863.

55. Carsten Colpe, ibid, p. 864.

56. Bulliet, Conversion, p. 81; Ibrahim, Merchant Capitol and Islam, pp. 188-189; for a fuller discussion of Umayyad society, see M.A. Shaban, Islamic History: A New Interpretation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970.

57. Watt, Formative, p. 170.

58. Lapidus, A History, p. 70.

59. Bulliet, Conversion, pp. 44, 47, 86, 87.

60. Amin Banani, "Conversion and Conformity in a Self-Conscious Elite," Individualism and Conformity in Classical Islam. Edited by Amin Banani and S. Vryonis, Jr. Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 1977, p. 21.

61. Von Grunebaum, Classical Islam, p. 87.

62. Lapidus, A History, p. 92.

63. Gibb, "Social Significance," p. 64.

64. Jaffal, Al-Shu'ubiyya wa al-Ardab, p. 99.

65. Vajda, "Les Zindiqs," p. 181.

66. Ibn abi al-Awja' either boasted or was accused of fabricating at least 4,000 hadiths. See Jaffal, Al-Shu'ubiyya wa Al-Adab, p. 172.

67. On the whole, they spoke favorably of the Persians and extolled their virtues. In the invention of hadith some went so far as to praise or attack the camel (Arabs), the cock (Persians), or the elephant (Indians). See Jaffal, al-Shu'ubiyya wa al-Adab, p. 164.

Mahmood Ibrahim teaches in the Department of History at California State Polytechnic University, Pomona.