Although the quest
for the origins of social institutions is a fascinating and controversial one,
no such quest will be attempted here. Much of the history of pre-Islamic Arabia
is obscured by myth and legend. Romantic notions have been confounded with
factual elements.
Even some of the most
elementary postulates and assumed “facts” have been critically questioned.7
But one fact that
seems to stand out as perhaps the most striking characteristic of Arabian
society is its diversity. In southern Arabia, the language was different from
that of the north and was written in a different alphabet.
The southerners were
sedentary people who subsisted largely by agriculture, which may have reached a
high degree of development. Their political organization was at first
monarchic, but the king’s authority was limited by councils of notables and at
a later date by a kind of feudalism.8
On the other hand,
the northern population was itself diverse. The introduction of Hellenistic
influence into central and northern Arabia produced a series of semi-civilized
border states.
Though Arab in origin
these states were strongly under the influence of Hellenized culture, and generally
used the Aramaic language. Their dominant mode of life was Bedouin tribalism.
In addition, there
were such important exceptions as that of the oasis and of those more advanced
towns established here and there by settled nomads, the most important being
Makkah.
But even in Makkah,
as Lewis has observed, the population was diverse: “the central and ruling
element... consisted of a kind of merchant aristocracy. After them came a
population of smaller traders of more recent settlement and humbler status, and
finally a ‘proletariat’ of foreigners and Bedouins.” 10
The structure of
Arabian society was also diverse with regard to the nature of the social bond
or the basis of social solidarity. In southern Arabia, the principle of
solidarity appears to have been at first the kind that usually obtains between
king and subject, and at a later time to have taken on some traits of
feudalistic fealty.
Among the central and
northern nomads, god and cult were the bond of tribal identity and the symbolic
expression of tribal cohesion. At Makkah, “the real basis of unity remained the
class solidarity of the
merchants.” 11
Diversity is probably
most obvious in the religious realm. Different forms of pagan idolatry,
Judaism, Christianity, Zoroastrianism, and Hanifism (a general form of
monotheism) were all embraced by various elements of the population.
Arberry has
succinctly described the situation thus: In the spreading wastes and thronging
townships of Arabia at the turn of the sixth century A.D. many voices were heard
. . . expressive of many divergent points of view. Jew and Christian were not
uncommon.. . . Echoes of Zoroastrian doctrines clashed with a vague and rather
mysterious monotheism attributed to people known as Hanlfs.12
Diversity may also be
seen in the various degrees of contact between the different parts of Arabia
and the surrounding world. One significant index of this diversity is that
Persian and Byzantine culture permeated Arabia through several channels, among
them the foreign colonies in the peninsula. Jewish and Christian settlements in
various parts of Arabia helped to spread Aramaic and Hellenistic culture.13
What led these
foreigners to settle among the Arabs, where rugged nomadism, booty, plunder and
violence are believed to have reigned supreme? How did they manage to survive,
let alone be culturally or socially influential, in an environment that is
generally characterized as hostile, lawless, unprincipled, and unpredictable?
Perhaps these colonies and their supposed cultural influence were not what they
are said to have been in a society whose purpose “is to unite men for offense
and defense” and whose whole law “really resolves itself into a law of war”.14
Or perhaps both sides
of the picture are overdrawn. In what sense, then, can one speak of an Arabian
society? Certainly the Arabs were not politically integrated. It is generally held
that the Arabs “used to be very defective in organizing power and incapable of
combined action”.15
Moreover, they took
pride in feeling no need for rulers, considering it degrading to be coerced or
to pay taxes.16 Nor can the identifying principle of Arabian society
be the economic system, the religious ideology, or the general mode of life; we
have already seen how heterogeneous these were.
Perhaps the only
alternative is the kinship system, but here again one must not lose sight of
time, space, mode of life and other variables.17
Diversity of the
Arabian social system did not, nevertheless, mean chaos.18 No social
system can be regarded as viable if it fails to satisfy a minimum of requisites
through certain mechanisms.19
One way to identify
these mechanisms is to look for the smallest social unit through which the requisites
are satisfied and the mechanisms developed. In the case of Arabia, the first
unit to come to mind is the tribe. Admittedly, there is a certain degree of
arbitrariness in this choice, for the Arabs had apparently experienced types of
social organization both larger and smaller than the tribe.20
The Arabian tribe was
held together as a social unit “by a traditional sentiment of unity. . . of
blood, and by the recognition and exercise of certain mutual obligations and social
duties and rights.. . . According to the theory of the Arab genealogists, the
groups were all patriarchal tribes, formed, by subdivision of an original
stock, on the system of kinship through male descents.”21
At the time of
Muhammad, the tribal bond was conceived as one of kinship; tribesmen regarded
themselves as of one blood.22
Yet, as Smith points
out, the tribal system “was being broken up from within by the growth of the
idea of family as opposed to stock ties and of private as distinct from stock
rights.”23
At Makkah this dissolution of the tribal solidarity was accompanied by a growing individualism
and by the emergence of a new sense of unity based on common economic intrests.
Even there tribal unity still dominated the attitudes
of the elite.24
A primary effect of
these various bonds and placement mechanisms was the enlargement of the kinship
unit, in which pure-blood tribesmen formed the core. In addition to these, the
group generally included a number of slaves and clients.
The latter were of
two kinds: “freedmen, and free Arabs of other kins living under the protection
of the tribe or of its chief or some influential man.”25
The pure-blood
tribesmen consisted of the chief and his family and of the group of families
who acknowledged him. At Makkah the situation was somewhat different.
The real functional
units were not clans or kinship groups as such, but rather small groups of merchants
with their families and dependents, including mercenaries, caravan personnel,
middlemen, debtors who were unable to pay their debts, wage workers and the
clients or mawdti.26
Crucial as they were,
blood ties and custom were not the only social forces in the ongoing social
life of the tribe. There was also, for example, the ideal of muru’ah or
muriiwah,— that is, manliness,— a quality that has been described as “bravery
in battle, patience in misfortune, persistence in revenge, protection of the
weak, defiance of the strong.”
The strength of a
man’s muriiwah in large part determined the degree of respect and
authority he commanded.27
To some extent, honor
took the place of law and of the moral idea of right and wrong. Loyalty,
fidelity, and mutual consultation in decision-making were other important norms
of Arabian society.28
In a summary
statement, Patai singles out five basic characteristics as unique to the
Biblical and Middle Eastern family “in every epoch from the most ancient time
down to the present: Such a family is
(1) endogamous,
practicing marriage within one’s own social group (2) patrilineal, tracing descent
through the father and the male line, (3) patriarchal, empowering the father
with formal and final authority in the family (4) extended, including three or
more generations in the same household and (5) polygynous, practicing plurality
of wives.” He concludes that, “the full cluster of these traits is found
nowhere outside the Middle East.” 29
Although useful
heuristically, such generalizations are rather risky; many exceptions and
variants have been pointed out among the patterns that have been dominant in
Arabia at one time or another. Similarly, there are unresolved issues concerning
lineage, the precise boundaries of endogamy, the limits of the extended family,
and so on.
Other questions can be
raised as to whether these traits would be consistent with
one another and with
the total Arabian setting.30 In view of what has been noted about
the tribal structure and the living conditions of pre-Islamic Arabia, the
following propositions may be suggested for consideration. Endogamy is not
likely to prevail where polygyny does.
Strict patriarchality
and the extended family can hardly endure in a kinship system, such as the
Arabian, where the patriarch had no more than moral authority. Endogamy and
patriarchality are unlikely to be found in a population generally characterized
by frequent roaming, physical mobility, change of lineage, and freedom of
affiliation.
Contemporaneous, as
distinct from successive, polygyny is not likely to coexist with free divorce
or repudiation by which the Arabian system has been characterized.
Neither is free
divorce compatible with endogamy and the extended family, nor are these
correlative with the way women are believed to have been treated or rather
mistreated.
Perhaps other
propositions can be derived from this list of traits and perhaps, too, the list
itself can be extended. This would seem to support the point of departure in
this part of the discussion, that is, the diversity of the Arabian social
system and of the views of those who have attempted to analyze it.
One of the few
established facts about Arabia before Islam is the existence there of some
Jewish and Christian communities.
Beyond this general
fact, nothing much can be ascertained. Scholars hold different opinions
regarding the racial and social origins, the size, locale, level of
development, and cultural significance of these groups. It will not serve our
purpose to examine these opinions in any detail; a few general remarks may be
helpful.
For the events of
what Goitein calls the “three most decisive decades of oriental history (about
615-645 A.D.) not a single contemporary account has come from Jewish sources.
Beyond that crucial
period, the first two hundred and fifty years after the rise of Islam are the
most obscure in Jewish history.” He disputes a common assumption that “Arabia was
the common homeland of the Semites and that Israel was nothing but an Arab
tribe.. . . [This] is nothing but a series of misconceptions. The people of
Israel, as soon as we can recognize it from concrete historical accounts—say
from the time of the Judges onwards [about 1200 B. C.]—is an entirely agricultural
people.” 31
Nevertheless, this
observation may be more omissive than inclusive. Life in Arabia had its
“unavoidable requirements,” and the Arabian Jews had become Arab tribesmen, at
least externally.32
Until the
racial-social origins of the Arabian Jews and the extent of their contact
with the outside
world of Jewry can be satisfactorily demonstrated, their relations with the
native Arabs will remain obscure and so will their supposed influence on Islam.
33
Christianity, too, penetrated
into Arabia quite early, but little is known about its growth or influence,
except in the most northern areas. Because Christianity involved no
requirements of ethnic exclusivity, the racial and social composition of
Arabian Christians was more diverse than that of the Jews.34
Christian churches
were established only where there were citizens of mixed Arab, Greek and Roman
population. Contrary to some recent suggestions, there is no evidence that
Christianity “had any deep hold upon the inhabitants of the Arabian Peninsula
proper.” 35
Yet- in spite of
ideological and behavioral differences, Christian missionaries were free to
preach at public rallies. Moreover, whatever the internal divisions within the
Christian groups and whatever their doctrinal disputes with the Jews at the
time, it seems that the native Arabs were neither much involved nor concerned
with such controversies.
Their relations with the
Christians and the Jews seem to have remained unaffected by disputes within
those groups.36
REFERENCES
7. Cf. J. ‘All, vol. 6, pp. 6-7,
177 ff; Goitein, pp. 10 ff; Lewis, pp. 29 ff, 22 ff; Margoliouth (2 ), pp.
61-2; Rosenthal (3), pp. 5-6; Torrey, pp. 9-13, 17-8, 24 ff; Della Vida, pp.
26, 35, 54; Zaydan (1 ), pp. 17-23. For a general discussion of evolutionism
see, for example, A
m e r ic a n
S o c io lo g ica
l R e v iew , 29:
3 (June 1964); Davis (1), p. 515.
8. Lewis, pp. 21 ff; cf. S. A.
Ali (2 ), p. LXIX; Della Vida, p. 35; Jeffery, p. 44; Hitti, pp. 14-23.
9. Lewis, pp. 30-1, 41; cf, J.
‘All, vol. 8, 145 ff; al AlOsI, vol. I, 243; Fayzee, pp. 3, 6; Roberts, p. 3;
Della Vida, pp. 41, 54-5; Watt (2), pp. 3, 16 ff and (4 ), pp. 10, 84 f, 154;
Wolf, pp. 330 ff.
10. Lewis, p. 34; cf. Hitti, p.
23.
11. Ib id . pp. 25, 30, 35.
12. Arberry (1), p. 32; J. ‘All,
vol. 5, pp. 369-370; al AlusI, vol. 2, pp. 194 ff; Bell ( l ) , pp. 4, 9-11; E n c y . of Is lam , vol. 2, p. 258;
Fayzee, pp. 10-11; Lewis, pp. 25 ff, 30, 39; Rosenthal (3 ), pp. 73, 139.
13. Lewis, p. 31; cf. al
Dawallbl, pp. 57 s
e q q .; Gibb
(3), pp. 1, 12, 24-5.
14. Smith (1), pp. 55-6.
15. Fayzee, pp. 4, 6.
16. This is the essence of a
dialogue between an Arab notable and a Persian king as reproduced in AlusI,
vol. 1, p. 150; cf. Lewis, p. 30.
17. Cf. Roberts, pp. 3-6; Smith
(1 ), pp. 22 seq
q . and
p a s s im ; Stern, pp. 24-5,
59-62, 67-70 and p
a s s im ; Watt
(2), pp. 19-20, 23-4, (4), pp. 10, 84-5, 15.4; Wolf, pp. 330 ff.
18. See, for example, Fayzee, pp.
5-7; R. Levy, pp. 53, 271-5; Smith, loc.
cit. (note
17); Stern, loc.
c it. (note
17); cf. Abu Zahrah (3), pp. 731 se
q q .; al
AlusI, vol. 1, p. 243; al Hufi (2), pp. 88 se q q .; Jum‘ah. Gibb (2, p. 15), speaks of the
Islamic peoples as heirs of some of the oldest societies which were in
possession of “a highly developed social instinct,” and which recognized that
any enduring social structure “must rest upon a general will, not on enforced
consent or on complex organization . . .”
19. Parsons (3 ), pp. 26 s e q q ., p. 167 ff; Davis
(1 ), p. 30.
20. Cf. Jum4ah, p. 9; ‘Awwa, pp.
10 s e q q .
21. Cf. Hitti, pp. 26-8; Lewis,
pp. 29 ff; Watt (2 ), pp. 19, 72 ff.; Wolf, p. 335; Smith (1 ), pp. 1-3, 22-3
and p a s s im ; Roberts, pp.
3-4; R. Levy, pp. 53, 272 ff.
22. Smith (1), p. 22.
23. Ib id . p. 57; cf. pp.
160 ff.
24. Watt (2), p. 19; cf. pp. 72 s e q q ., 152-3; Wolf, p.
335.
25. Smith (1 ), p. 41; cf. 44-5
and p a s s im ; Jum‘ah; al HufI
(2).
26. R. Levy, p. 272.
27. Wolf, pp. 335-6.
28. Fayzee, pp. 6-7; R. Levy, pp.
271 ff; Lewis, pp. 29-30.
29. Watt (2), pp. 20-24; cf.
Fanrukh, p. 35; Wolf, p. 336.
30. Patai, p. 19; cf. al HufI (2
), 230, 266-85, 294; MacDonald, p.68.
31. See, for example, Smith (1 );
Jum‘ah; WafI (3 ); al HufI (1 and 2); R. Levy; Roberts; Stern.
32. Goitein, esp. 6, 23, 25-7,
31, 89; J. ‘All, vol. 6, pp. 6-8, 177-8, 283; Jum‘ah, pp. 5 s e q q .; Margoliouth (2),
esp. 59-62, 70; Albright, 27; T
h e T im e s ,
lit. supp., p. 943.
33. J. 4All, lo c. c it. (note 32);
Margoliouth, lo c
.
c it. (note 32);
Torrey, pp. 16-32.
34. For a general discussion of
this complex problem see, for example, J. ‘All, vol. 6, pp. 3-50, 177-8, 283;
Bell (1), pp. 10-15; Della Vida, pp. 55-6; Geiger, pp. 4 ff; Goitein, pp.
10-12, 33ff, 49-50, 60-1; al HOfI (1), pp. 137-142 and (2 ), pp. 22-30; Lewis,
pp. 32-5; Margoliouth (2), pp. 1, 55-71, 81-2; Rosenthal (3 ), pp. xi-xii, 5
ff, 70 ff, 142; Torrey, pp. 3-8, 16-32; Watt (4), pp. 85 ff; Wolf, p. 329.
35. Della Vida, p. 54; cf. J.
‘All, vol. 6, p. 68; Bell (2), p. 16 ff.
36. Bell (2), pp. 16-7; cf. 41
ff; Guillaume, p. 130; al HufI (1), p. 149 f.
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