Professional Documents
Culture Documents
, xxv (1987)
A. I. Sabra
Harvard University
'precursitis') is equally familiar: it reads the future into the past, with a sense of
elation.
These two extreme views have given rise - if only half-consciously - to a
counter research program which strives to see things as they really are and,
accordingly, seeks to emphasize the differences between the products of two
cultures rather than their similarities. It is in the application of this program
that the word 'context' inevitably appears. We must see things in their proper
context, it is asserted with appropriate urgency. But what this recommenda-
tion amounts to in practice is a question which historians of Islamic science
have yet to determine in a rigorous manner.
The transmission of Greek science to medieval Islam was an important
event in the history of civilization; it had far-reaching consequences for the
history of the classical heritage, for the development of Islamic thought and
culture, and for the European renaissance of the twelfth and later centuries.
The student of Islamic civilization is concerned with the meaning of this event
for this civilization itself and, if he is an historian of science, with what it can
reveal about the origins and the specific character of the scientific tradition it
initiated. His approach is not, therefore, that of the classicist who might, as
such, be interested in Arabic scientific texts solely for the purpose of
'recovering' lost Greek works or 'reconstructing' obscure episodes in Greek
thought. Nor is it the approach of the Latin medievalist who will seek
knowledge of Islamic science and philosophy only in so far as they influenced
later developments in Europe. Both of these other approaches are of course
quite legitimate from their own perspectives, and there are many examples to
show that Arabic material selected from their points of view can be put to
good historical use. The Islamist may himself be inclined to use his knowledge
and expertise in his own field to contribute to their successful implementation.
But the results of this research, whether it is done by an Islamist or a non-
Islamist, cannot be regarded as contributions to the study of Islamic science
for its own sake, except, perhaps, in a partial and indirect way. The reason is
that the problems posed in such research, and the terms in which they are
formulated, belong to areas other than those with which the Islamist, qua
Islamist, is chiefly concerned.
Put simply and briefly, the Islamist's approach is that which looks at science
in Islam as a phenomenon ofIslamic civilization - a phenomenon which must
be understood and explained in terms peculiar to that civilization. Before
going into a discussion of some of the implications of this point of view, it
might be well to point out here that, far from being totally indifferent to the
perspectives of the classicist and the Latin medievalist, it promises to be of
value to both groups of scholars, as well as to the not-so-specialized historian
who is generally concerned with the cross-cultural migration of scientificideas.
Three points may be made briefly. (1) What we call the Greco-Arabic
an act of reception may not call for, at least not with equal emphasis. In the
case under consideration 'prior existence' refers primarily to the existence
(though not necessarily the immediate availability) of the texts that later were
translated; but also involved is the prior existence of a translation activity from
Greek into Syriac and the existence of individuals capable of rendering
scientific and philosophical works from these (and other) languages into
Arabic. As is well known these initial conditions had obtained for a long time
in the Near East. Thanks to the continued existence of Hellenized, mainly
Christian, communities and centres of learning, and soon after Islamic rule
had settled over that area, it appears that some Arabic translations of scientific
and pseudo-scientific literature began to be made in sporadic, unregulated
fashion. This was a natural, spontaneous and perhaps inevitable, develop-
ment, in keeping with a centuries-old practice in the Near East. But it was not
until after the -Abbasid revolution and the establishment of the -Abbasid
empire with Baghdad as its capital, and especially during the reigns of al-
Rashid and al-Ma'miin (786-809,813-833), that we witness what can only be
described as a cultural explosion of which the translation of ancient science
and philosophy was a major feature. That occurred roughly a century and a
half after the Arab conquest of Egypt and a century and a quarter after the
Umayyads came to power in Damascus.
The translation movement in the early cAbbasid period was not a sideline
affair conducted by a few individuals working in the dark under threat of being
found out and thwarted. It was a massive movement which took place in
broad daylight under the protection and active patronage of the -Abbasid
rulers. Indeed, in terms of intensity, scope, concentration and concertedness, it
had had no precedent in the history of the Middle East or of the world. Large
libraries for books on "the philosophical sciences" (hlkma, or al- 'ulism al-
hikmiyya) were created, embassies were sent out in search of Greek manus-
cripts, and scholars (Christians and Sabians) were employed to perform the
task of translation, all of this at the instigation and with the financial and
moral support of the cAbbasid caliphs.'
What, then, were the forces that combined to produce this great cultural
movement? What was it that urged the sAbbasid authorities to embark on this
enterprise? Why the emphasis on "the philosophical sciences", not just useful
medicine and astrology and alchemy? What were the relations of this
enterprise to other trends - cultural, religious and political - in the Islamic
world? And what is the exact meaning of the frequently asserted connection
between this early interest in the secular sciences and an inherently Muslim
concept of knowledge? In short, how do we explain that forceful and, in a
sense, unexpected act of appropriation's Again, these are obvious questions
and, again, it is noticeable that they have been neglected by historians of
Islamic science. Other perspectives have turned their attention to other tasks.
career of science and philosophy in Islam, but at least some of their inherent
characteristics, possibilities and limitations. Since I am not able to present
such a picture here, not even in outline, I shall have to limit myself to a few
general remarks. While these may not suffice as a convincing argument in
favour of the opposite thesis, they will at least give some indication of the
questions involved in my present approach.
A number of considerations may be cited in support of the marginality
thesis. Chief among these are the following three general observations which
we find scattered in the literature: (l) Right from the time of their importation
into Islamic society and throughout their career, the philosophical or rational
sciences met with opposition from two powerful camps: religious 'orthodoxy'
and the champions of an indigenous Arabic culture. (2) The rational sciences,
called "sciences of the ancients" (culum al-awa'it; by medieval scholars to
distinguish them from the newly developed disciplines concerned with Islamic
religion and the Arabic language, were excluded from the curricula of the
advanced institutions of learning known as the madrasas, and thus did not
form part of the mental equipment of the majority of educated Muslims. (3)
Because of their predominantly theoretical character the ancient sciences were
not in a position to render tangible services to Muslim society and, accord-
ingly, were forced to lead a bookish existence away from interaction with the
demands of society.
First I shall comment on each of these three observations one by one.
(1) In medieval Islam, and especially in the early period ofIslamic history, the
intellectual arena was occupied by various groups who competed vigorously
for the minds and hearts of the Muslim community. Ashab al-hadith (who
espoused an ideology based on the paradigmatic authority of the sayings and
actions of the prophet Muhammad) contended with the mutakallimisn (or
"dialectical theologians"), the latter with the sufis (or mystics), and the sufis
with the fuqaha' (or jurisconsults). The champions of the ancient scienceswere
no exception and they inevitably suffered attacks from various quarters. But
instead of being always intimidated by these attacks they frequently responded
in a self-assured, even aggressive manner. Philosophers, for example, scoffed
at the arguments of kalam which they regarded as muddleheaded, and they
derided the sufis for abiding by standards of knowledge (intuition and
immediate experience) below those of human reason. And mathematicians
boasted about the certainty of their proofs and the superiority of their brand
of knowledge to all others.
In 1916 the great Hungarian Islamist Ignaz Goldziher published his
important study on the attitude of what he called "the old Islamic Orthodoxy"
toward the ancient sciences." By "die alte islamische Orthodoxie" he
obviously meant the party of ahl al-sunna, those Muslim religious scholars
(traditionists and jurisconsults) who claimed to walk in the path of the prophet
and his companions, uncontaminated by adventitious and pernicious
influences. Contrary to a possible misconception for which the author would
certainly not be responsible, but which might be induced by the word
'Orthodoxy', it was not Goldziher's intention to describe an attitude of "Islam
in general" (whatever that is) or of Islamic society; such a generalization is
nowhere suggested in his article. Rather, the position he set out to illustrate on
the basis of a wide variety of sources drawn from practically all periods of
Islamic history was that of a specific and fairly well defined, albeit a very
important and influential, group of scholars. The resulting picture shows a
decidedly negative attitude - which does not mean that consequences can be
drawn from it in a simple or straightforward manner. That 'Orthodox'
scholars, or a large number of them, were suspicious or antagonistic towards
the philosophical sciencescan be easily documented from the historical reports
of the time and from their own writings. But what this vocal antagonism
implies, in every case, with regard to the actual practice of these sciences
cannot be so readily inferred. Here are a few observations (marked (a), (b) and
(c) suggested by the evidence compiled in Goldziher's study.
(a) It is important to bear in mind that thejaqih is simply a scholar who has
reached a certain understanding (fiqh) of matters relating primarily to shari-a
or Islamic law - an understanding which, in the eyes of his fellow scholars,
allows him to exercise legal judgments. The faqih, unlike the judge, was not
appointed to his role as legist or jurisconsult by a government office. His legal
authority was a self-appointed authority that depended on his standing as a
scholar, his reputation and his power of persuasion. To put his legal opinions
into practice he, therefore, had to win the conviction of the ruler (or the judge
appointed by the ruler) or the public. As a consequence, the effectiveness of
opposition mounted by the faqihs was invariably a function of their capacity
to manipulate political power or to stir up popular sentiment - a capacity
which, as one might expect, was not always available to them. We know, for
example, that 'Orthodox' protestations were ignored, indeed suppressed, by
the caliph al-Ma'mim, who favoured the traditionists' adversaries, the ratio-
nally inclined Mu'tazila. And in twelfth century Andalusia, Averroes, while he
remained a protege of the Almohad rulers, went on writing his commentaries
on Aristotle, untroubled by the condemnations of strict Malikite jurists.
(b) Note must also be taken of the fact that the object of attack was not
always the same or always clearly defined. Sometimes the term 'ancient
sciences' designated everything that came to be known in Arabic through the
translation effort. Frequently, however, it primarily referred to the occult
branches of Hellenistic lore, such as magic, astrology, and witchcraft. Most
often, certain other branches were explicitly spared the attack, as in the case of
arithmetic and medicine. The former (together with algebra) even came to be
(2) As has been mentioned earlier the marginality thesis relies in part on the
fact that the major Islamic institution of higher learning, the madrasa,
formally ignored the rational or philosophical sciences. The consequence
that scientific activity did not cease to exist as a result of not being formally
included in the teaching curriculum of the madrasa. (I say "not formally
included" because it can be shown that, thanks to the informal character of all
medieval Muslim education, the rational sciences, or some of them, were able
to penetrate even the madrasas.) An important task of the historian ofIslamic
science is, therefore, to answer the question: How did a significant scientific
tradition maintain itself for such a long time largely outside the only stable
institution of higher learning in medieval Islam? It seems to me that this
question is as important as inquiring into how the same situation was related
to the eventual decline of science.
Anyone familiar with the course of Islamic science after the eleventh century
will immediately recognize that there can be no one answer that is valid for all
periods and all geographical areas. The circumstances that surrounded the
flowering of science, philosophy and medicine in twelfth century Spain, for
example, hardly resembled those in which the later flowering of mathematics
and astronomy took place under the Mongols in Adharbayjan; and the
context in which Ibn al-Shatir was able to make his astronomical contribu-
tions in fourteenth century Damascus differed greatly from the conditions
provided in the following century by Uliigh Beg for the mathematicians
gathered round him in Samarqand.
What we need, then, are monographic studies that deal with particular
situations in particular places and times. One or several of such studies should
be devoted to the madrasas themselves. For, as my parenthetical remark above
has indicated, these institutions were not totally devoid of rational science,
despite their pronounced emphasis on religious disciplines.v There were two
main reasons for this. One is the well-known fact that some of the rational
sciences (arithmetic and astronomy in particular) had become indispensable to
thefaqih and the muwaqqit" respectively. The other, not so well appreciated,
reason is that teaching activity in the madrasa often reflected the interests of
the individual teacher rather than any rigid curriculum to which he is supposed
to have confined himself. An example from the thirteenth century is that of
Kamal al-Din ibn Yiinus, a renowned scholar who had studied principles of
jurisprudence at the Nizamiyya madrasa in Baghdad before he became a
teacher of fiqh in the madrasas of his native Mawsil, in northern cIraq. His
biography relates that besides the usual religious sciences(remarkably enough,
these were not restricted to Islam) his teaching activity included astronomy
and mathematics, among others." One notable scholar who studied the
Almagest under him is Athir al-Din al-Abhari (d. 1265).-Alam al-Din Qaysar
(d. 1242)was another, a Hanafi jurist from Upper Egypt who went all the way
to Mawsil to study musical theory under Kamal al-Din. One should not
therefore be surprised to find it stated in many surviving manuscripts on the
"foreign sciences" that they were copied inside one of the famous madrasas.
This is simply evidence of the fact that this branch of human knowledge was
not barred from entering the libraries attached to these institutions. And one
need only remember that the vast majority of the extant Arabic scientific and
philosophical manuscripts have been preserved in mosque libraries to realize
that their presence there was rather the rule, not the exception.
of gnomon shadows, the job could be done only by someone with a knowledge
of astronomy, and, in a few instances, the position of muwaqqit was filled by
distinguished mathematicians.
Whether as physician, astrologer, engineer, muwaqqit ot faradi, the scientist
or scientifically informed scholar was thus able to render a number of
important services to the society in which he lived. Having failed to recognize
the social and religious benefits perceived to be obtainable from science, the
marginality thesis is quite unable to help us to understand the nature of the
process through which scientific knowledge came to be absorbed and har-
nessed in medieval Islamic society.
E. S. Kennedy once made the remark that there was no essential reason why
Tycho Brahe could not have had a Turkish name. What he meant was that
observations matching those of Brahe in precision and significance could have
been made by Islamic astronomers using instruments of the types they had
already developed in -Abbasid times. And yet the man who carried out for the
first time the kind of observations that allowed Kepler to make his great
advance in planetary theory did not have a Turkish, Persian or Arabic name,
and the question is: Why didn't he? That is only a peculiar formulation of the
why-not question that has been much debated in recent years, especially, but
not exclusively, with reference to Chinese science. As far as Islamic science is
concerned the question frequently takes the form of why it declined in Islamic
lands after the initial spectacular flowering. But sometimes it is formulated as
the question of why the seventeenth century breakthrough had escaped the
Islamic scientists who had based their endeavour on the same foundations that
later served their European successors.
There are those who consider the question meaningless, especially in its
latter form, and accordingly refuse to speculate about it. Others would go so
far as to maintain that the historian of Islamic science cannot address a more
important question. It has become clear in any case that this is one of those
questions that need to be subjected to critical analysis before one sets about
finding an answer. That the question cannot be easily dismissed is shown in the
not insignificant literature devoted to it, and even more in the fact that it
almost always crops up in general discussions. The following remarks will be
concerned with the problem of decline rather than the question of why Muslim
scientists failed to produce "the scientific revolution".
But first let me deliver the disappointing confession that I do not possess a
solution to the problem of decline. That the phenomenon in question did in
fact occur seems clear to me from comparing levels of scientific productions in,
say, the fifteenth and eleventh centuries. Difficulties arise when one tries to
assign a date to the occurrence, in part because decline is a process that
occupies a time-interval, and it is difficult to determine when the process
began, but also because we are dealing with a vast geographical area in which
not all centres of scientific activity were always in the same phase of
development at the same time. Add to this the consideration that decline in
one branch of science may coincide with progress in another. Much specific
research must be done before we can produce reliable general descriptions, let
alone plausible explanations. Nevertheless, one general observation appears to
be strongly suggested by the available evidence, and it is this observation that I
shall now outline.
In a chapter of his Muqaddima devoted to a lengthy refutation of philoso-
phy the fourteenth century historian Ibn Khaldiin wrote that "The problems
of physics [he was referring to Aristotelian natural philosophy] are of no
importance for us in our religious affairs or our livelihoods. Therefore, we
must leave them alone.'?" He was echoing a sentiment already expressed by
Ghazali three hundred years earlier. Underlying this sentiment was a certain
view of knowledge which Ghazali set forth in the important First Book of his
greatly influential magnum opus, The revival ofthe religious sciences. 19 Ghazali
first remarks that, knowledge being a source of pleasure in itself iladhidh fi
nafsih), all knowledge qualifies as an object of pursuit for its own sake. In his
own words, "Knowledge is a virtue in itself ffadila fi dhatih], absolutely and
without relation [to something else]". Religious knowledge has the additional
value of being a means for attaining eternal happiness in the world to come.
"Man has been created only to know" (lam yukhlaq ilia Ii-l-cilm) is Ghazali's
bold assertion, but the knowledge man has been created to seek is that which
brings him closer to his creator. For the religiously committed Ghazall this
means, not only that religious knowledge is higher in rank and more worthy of
pursuit than all other forms of knowledge, but also that all other forms of
knowledge must be subordinated to it. No occupation, no pursuit, however
virtuous in itself, should be allowed to divert man from his ultimate goal.
Thus, among the non-revealed forms of knowledge: medicine is necessary only
for the preservation of health; arithmetic for the conduct of daily affairs and
for the execution of wills and the division of legacies in accordance with the
revealed law; astronomy, a science praiseworthy in itself but blameworthy in
some of its implications, is useful in performing an operation legitimated by
the holy Qur'an, namely the calculating of celestial movements; and logic is
just a tool for weighing arguments in religious as well as non-religious
branches of inquiry. The doctrines of natural science are of two sorts: those
that contradict religious belief should of course be rejected; as for those that
are concerned with the general properties of material objects, they can be
ignored without loss. There is only one principle that should be consulted
whenever one has to decide whether or not a certain branch of learning is
worthy of pursuit: it is the all-important consideration that "this world is a
sowing ground for the next"; and Ghazali quotes in this connection the
Prophetic Tradition: "May God protect us from useless knowledge." The final
result of all this is an instrumentalist and religiously oriented view of all secular
and permitted knowledge. This is the view that accompanied the limited
admission of logic and mathematics and medicine into the madrasa and the
conditional admission of the astronomer into the mosque.
The philosophical sciences, al-culinn al-hikmiyya, had entered Islamic intel-
lectuallife under the banner of an articulated concept of hikma (or philosophi-
cal wisdom) which involved a doctrine of knowledge quite distinct from the
view just outlined. According to this doctrine, the aim of theoretical investi-
gation, whether mathematical, physical or metaphysical, was to ascertain the
nature of all things as they are in themselves to the farthest extent possible, and
the aim of the investigator was to gain knowledge of the truth for the sake of
knowing the truth. The metaphysically inclined seeker after the truth, namely
all the great philosophers of Islam and the majority of mathematicians in the
earlier period, also believed that the ultimate value of all science was to perfect
the human soul and prepare it for a state of eternal happiness - that is the
very same state which Ghazali hoped to secure through religious knowledge.
But, for the philosopher and the philosophically committed scientist, this was
not a state that transcended philosophical activity: it was to be achieved in fact
only through philosophical activity and one was closer to it by as much as one
progressed in the acquisition of philosophical knowledge. Man's perfection
thus lay in the perfection of his philosophical or scientific knowledge and the
way to his salvation was none other than the way of science. By contrast, a
logical consequence of Ghazali's view was, as we have seen, to put a curb on
theoretical inquiry. ')
than others. The observation is surprising (it surprised me when I first came
upon it) and may even seem paradoxical. Would it not be strange, it might be
asked, to correlate decline and acceptance? Wasn't it rather fortunate for
science and scientifically informed scholars to be granted a niche, however
small, in permanent Islamic institutions? Didn't 'naturalization' (if that is
what happened) ensure the continuity of a certain amount of instruction in the
sciences that might otherwise have been absent? As for those who limited the
application of their scientific expertise to the service of religious practice,
didn't they sometimes produce astronomically significant works on timekeep-
ing and lunar visibility and qibla determination? Wasn't one of the most
distinguished astronomers in medieval Islam, Ibn al-Shatir, employed as a
muwaqqit in the Umayyad mosque? And would we be really justified in
regarding an instrumentalist view of science as an impediment to scientific
progress?
There will be no point in extending the list of questions any further since I
cannot possibly deal with them. Instead, I shall, by way of comment, devote
one or two concluding remarks to a relevant aspect of the important question
of the scientist's role in Islam. In the earlier period, and at certain times and
places afterwards, the scientist (mathematician or natural philosopher) was
more often than not a practising astrologer and physician, and it was mostly
for his expertise in the arts of astrology and medicine that he was valued by his
employers. But he was also recognized and revered as a hakim, a word which I
would not hesitate to translate in this context as "scientist" if we mean by
"scientist" one who investigates any aspect or aspects of the world for the sake
of knowing the truth about the world. But the mosque was certainly not
installing a hakim within its walls when it employed the astronomically
informed scholar as a muwaqqit. His function and expected contribution
would be those defined by this latter term: someone in charge of regulating the
times of prayer. It was only natural of course if curiosity or interest or
whatever would attract the individual muwaqqit into areas of research and
discovery that lay outside the requirements of his office, as did sometimes
happen. But such individual and exceptional effort was likely to receive only
limited appreciation from his contemporaries: it was not what they demanded
and expected of him. It may be significant, for example, to note that, as David
King has observed," the important research of Ibn al-Shatir on planetary
theory does not seem to have influenced later astronomical work by muwaqqits
in Syria and Egypt where his New zij, incorporating his new planetary models,
achieved some popularity.
Finally, with regard to instrumentalism, it should be noted that what we
have to do with here is not a general utilitarian interpretation of science, but a
special view which confines scientific research to very narrow, and essentially
unprogressive areas. We may rightly admire the ingenuity, inventiveness and
REFERENCES
A summary of this paper was read at The XVIIIth International Congress of the History of
Science, Berkeley, California, 8 August 1986, in a Symposium concerned with "Cross-cultural
transmission of natural knowledge and its social implications". The author is grateful for
comments and suggestions from Wolfhart Heinrichs, Charles Issawi, Everett Mendelsohn, James
Morris, Jamil Ragep, Mostafa Safouan, Sami-Ali, and, especially, Juan Vernet.
1. For an illustration of this point, see the author's "The Andalusian revolt against Ptolemaic
astronomy: Averroes and al-Bitruji", in Everett Mendelsohn (ed.), Transmission and
tradition in the sciences: Essays in honor of I. Bernard Cohen (Cambridge, 1984), 133-53.
2. See, for example, the introductory chapter to his "On First Philosophy", in Alfred I. Ivry, Al-
Kindi's metaphysics (Albany, N.Y., 1974),55-60.
3. See the first article to be published in the more recent research on this problem: Victor
Roberts, "The solar and lunar theory of Ibn al-Shatir: A pre-Copernican Copernican
model", Isis, xlviii (1957), 428-32.
4. Carra de Vaux, "Les spheres celestes selon Nasir-Eddin Attfisi", in Paul Tannery, Recherches
sur l'histoire de l'astronomie ancienne (paris, 1893), Appendice VI, pp. 337-61.
5. Pierre Duhem, To save the phenomena: An essay on the idea ofphysical theory from Plato to
Galileo, trans. by Edmund Dolan and Chaninah Maschler (Chicago and London, 1969),
25-35; see esp. p. 26. Also: idem, Le systeme du monde, ii (paris, 1954), 117-79; esp. pp.
117-19, on "Le realisme des arabes".
6. Many of these articles are reprinted in E. S. Kennedy and -Imad Ghanim, The life and work of
Ibn al-Shiltir (Aleppo, 1976).For additional literature see Sabra, "The Andalusian revolt
..." (ref. 1), 146, n. 5.
7. Cf Franz Rosenthal, The classical heritage in Islam (Berkeleyand Los Angeles, 1965),esp. pp.
1-14.
8. Surely it is not to be taken for granted that an intellectual tradition to which the Romans paid
little attention, and which was almost extinguished during the long struggle between
Christianity and Paganism, should undergo a spectacular revival in a semitic, hitherto
'unscientific' language and a religiously oriented civilization.
9. A notable exception is Rudi Paret, Der Islam und lias griechische Bildungsgin (Tiibingen,
1950). See also the relevant chapters in S. D. Goitein, Studies in Islamic history and
institutions (Leiden, 1966).
10. Goldziher's still unsurpassed study, first published as no. 18 (1915) of Abhandlungen der
koniglisch Preussischen Akademie der Wissenschaften (philosophisch-historische Klasse)
(Berlin, 1916),is now available in English translation in Merlin Swartz (trans. and ed.),
Studies on Islam (New York and Oxford, 1981), 185-215.
11. On Sirafi's views, see D. S. Margoliuth, "The discussion between Abii Bishr Matta and Abii
Sa-id al-Sirafi on the merits of logic and grammar", Journal ofthe Royal Asiatic Society,
(1905), 79-129; M. Mahdi, "Language and logic in classical Islam", in G. E. von
Grunebaum (ed.), Logic in classical Islamic culture (Wiesbaden, 1970), 50-83. Some
interpretative remarks are in A. I. Sabra, "Avicenna on the subject matter of logic", The
journal ofphilosophy, lxxvii (1980), 745-64.
12. See George Makdisi's most recent and most developed statement in The rise of colleges:
Institutions of learning in Islam and in the West (Edinburgh, 1981). An earlier study by
Makdisi is "Muslim institutions ofleaming in eleventh-century Baghdad", Bulletin ofthe
School ofOriental and African Studies, xxiv (1961), I-56. See comments and criticisms in
A. L. Tibawi, "Origin and character of al-madrasa", ibid., xxv (1962), 225-38.
13. Makdisi discusses van Berchem's and Goldziher's views at some length in The rise ofcolleges,
296-304.
14. Mention should be made of an early study by a pioneering student of Islamic scientific
institutions: Aydin Sayili, The institutions of science and learning in the Muslim world,
unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Harvard University, 1941. Sayili's The observatory in
Islam (Ankara, 1960; repr., New York, 1981) is still the only major monograph on a
scientific institution in the broad context of Islamic culture.
15. The man in charge of regulating prayer times in a mosque.
16. Only a very few of Kamal al-Dln's mathematical works have survived. His more recently
discovered writings (in Manisa, Turkey) deal with conic sections.
17. I have in mind the kind of research exemplified by E. S. Kennedy's A survey of Islamic
astronomical tables (Transactions of the American Philosophical Society, ns, xlvi, pt. 2
(1956», and David King's "The astronomy of the Mamluks", Isis, lxxiv (1983),531-55.
18. Ibn Khaldfm, The Muqaddimah, trans. by Franz Rosenthal (3 vols, Princeton, 1967). See vol.
iii, 246-58, esp. pp. 251-2.
19. Ihya' 'ulilm al-din, ed. by al-Babi al-halabl (Cairo, 1967), i, 13ff,esp. pp. 17,22,23,31-32,35-
36, 45-48, 57-60.
20. I am not arguing the simplistic thesis that Ghazali, or his influence, was 'the cause' of scientific
decline. Nor would it be correct to claim that the two theories of knowledge outlined
above were the only ones conceived in Islam, even within the restricted group of scientific
scholars. Ibn al-Shatir, for example, subscribed to a view which was distinct from both
theories. For a survey of a wide range of concepts of knowledge in Islam, see Franz
Rosenthal, Knowledge triumphant: The concept of knowledge in medieval Islam (Leiden,
1970).
21. See King's article referred to above (ref. 17), 538.