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The Institute of Asian and African Studies
The Max Schloessinger Memorial Foundation
Offprint from
JERUSALEM STUDIES IN
ARABIC AND ISLAM
35(2008)
Yaacov Lev
The jihād of sultan Nūr al-Dı̄n of Syria

(1146–1174): history and discourse
THE HEBREW UNIVERSITY OF JERUSALEM

THE FACULTY OF HUMANITIES
JSAI 35 (2008)
THE JIHĀD OF SULTAN NŪR AL-DĪN OF

∗
SYRIA (1146–1174): HISTORY AND DISCOURSE
Yaacov Lev
Bar Ilan University
Contents
1 Introduction 228
2 Historians and historiography 233

2.1 Ibn ,Asākir (1105–1176) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 233
2.2 Ibn al-Qalānisı̄ (d. 1160) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 236
2.3 Ibn al-Athı̄r (1160–1233) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 238
3 The history of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s family 240

3.1 Qāsim al-Dawla Aq Sunqur (1087–1094) . . . . . . . . . . 240
3.2 ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ (1122–1146) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 243
4 Nūr al-Dı̄n the sultan of Syria 251

4.1 The young prince Nūr al-Dı̄n . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 251
4.2 Expansionism and state building . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 252
5 Jihād and military history 258

5.1 Muslim-Frankish warfare . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 258
5.2 Nūr al-Dı̄n’s military resources . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 261
5.3 Nūr al-Dı̄n’s wars with the Franks . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264
6 Epigraphy and history 269

∗ An early version of this paper was presented at the Islamic Medieval Colloquium
of Israel held at Bar Ilan University on 13 June 2008. I would like to thank the orga-
nizers Deborah G. Tor and Nimrod Hurvitz and the participants Miriam Frenkel,
Yehoshua Frenkel, Housni al-Khateeb Shehada, Livnat Holtzman, Joseph Drory,
Daniella Talmon-Heller, and Leigh N. Chipman for their feedback and criticism.
Gratitude is also due to JSAI ’s anonymous reviewer for his comments, corrections,
and thoughtful remarks.
227
228 Yaacov Lev
7 Jihād and twelfth-century Muslim

society 274
8 Conclusions 277
1 Introduction
The Crusades cast a long shadow on the Muslim Eastern Mediterranean
of the first half of the twelfth century. By 1146, when Nūr al-Dı̄n
ascended to power in Aleppo, the Frankish presence in the Eastern
Mediterranean was well established, and warfare in the region was en-
demic. The scholarly discussion of the Muslim response to the Crusades
is dominated by the study of the evolution of the spirit of jihād in Syria,
and its appearance in literary sources and epigraphic evidence. For ex-
ample, Nikita Elisséeff, in his monumental three-volume biography of
Nūr al-Dı̄n, depicts him as a ruler who adopted and conducted a pol-
icy of jihād that involved two complementary elements: military jihād
against the Franks, and religious jihād aimed at the revival of Sunnı̄ Is-
lam. Elisséeff’s twofold characterization of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s jihād has been
wholeheartedly adopted by Yasser Tabbaa. Other scholars have followed
suit. Emmanuel Sivan, for example, sets forth to study the evolution of
the “grand mouvement du ğihad contre les Croisés.” He points out that
the image of ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄, Nūr al-Dı̄n’s father as a warrior of
the holy war was a back-projection, if not invention, of late thirteenth-
century historians. Focusing on Nūr al-Dı̄n, Sivan views his reign as
conductive to the full development of the ideology of jihād, and contends
that Nūr al-Dı̄n adopted jihād as a state ideology. Carole Hillenbrand
concurs partially with these findings, viewing the Muslim response to the
Crusades as evolving slowly during the first half of the twelfth century.1
The underlying difficulty in the study of Muslim holy war, in the
context of twelfth-century Syria, is that we have only a vague idea of the
contemporary perceptions of jihād, and what they meant when referring
to it and invoking its spirit. The concept of jihād has a long history,
going back to the Qur-ān, and the legal theory concerning jihād evolved
gradually. Eventually, jihād came to be considered the collective duty
of the Muslim community, a duty that became incumbent upon the in-
dividual when Muslim territory was under attack. In the writings of the
scholars, military jihād was considered inferior to the inner spiritual jihād
1 Elisséeff, Nūr al-Dı̄n, vol. 3, pp. 703–704; Tabbaa, “Monuments with a message,”
p. 223; Sivan, L’Islam et la Croisade, pp. 44, 61–65; Hillenbrand, The Crusades, pp.
108–110.
The jihād of Sultan Nūr al-Dı̄n 229
fought against evil temptations.2 A unique insight into Muslim thinking

about jihād, contemporary with the First Crusade, can be gleaned from
the extracts of ,Alı̄ b. T
. āhir al-Sulamı̄’s Kitāb al-jihād, which have been
published and translated into French by Sivan. Al-Sulamı̄ (1039-1106)
was a Shāfi,ı̄ Damascene jurist who, in 1105, at the mosque of Bayt
Lahiya, a suburb of Damascus, and at the Umayyad mosque, recited
chapters of his book on jihād. Al-Sulamı̄ set the First Crusade within
a broader historical context of wars waged by Christians on Muslims
in Sicily and Spain. Quoting the great sage al-Ghazālı̄ (d. 1111), he
explained the distinction between jihād as a collective and an individ-
ual duty. However, he unequivocally stated that in his own time, jihād
was incumbent upon the rulers and population alike. His preaching was
mostly, if not entirely, ignored by both the rulers and population.3
Other twelfth-century expositions of jihād can be found in the po-
etry of court poets. These clearly delineated the goals for Nūr al-Dı̄n’s
jihād : the conquest of Jerusalem and the coastal plain (sāh.il, mean-
ing the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem, the county of Tripoli and, by
extension, also the principality of Antioch). The goals of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s
jihād were also clear to some thirteenth-century historians. Sivan has
drawn attention to Sibt. b. al-Jawzı̄’s (1185–1256) statement that Nūr
al-Dı̄n intended to conquer Jerusalem and the sāh.il, and that the con-
quest of Damascus was instrumental to that aim.4 More than reflecting
twelfth-century realities, Sibt. b. al-Jawzı̄’s statement epitomizes the ret-
rospective evaluation of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s reign.
The most explicit twelfth-century statement about the political goals
of jihād comes from the early years of Saladin’s rule in Egypt. It appears
in a letter written to the caliph in 1174, shortly after Nūr al-Dı̄n’s death,
and lists Saladin’s immediate and future plans. The letter states that
the re-conquest of Jerusalem is impossible due to the political disarray
in Syria in the wake of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s death, and refers to the Saladin’s
difficulties in dispatching armies from Egypt to fight the Franks in Pales-
tine. Jerusalem, the letter continues, has no one to fight for her cause,
2 For attempts to understand the Qur-ānic meanings of jihād without resorting
to exegeses, see Firestone, Jihād, ch. 4; Landau-Tasseron, “Jihād,” pp. 35–43. For
the distinction between greater and lesser jihād, see Cook, Understanding Jihād, ch.
2. The literature dealing with the legal aspects of jihād is vast. See, for example,
Mottahedeh and al-Sayyid, “The idea of the Jihād,” pp. 23–31.
3 Emmanuel Sivan, “La genèse de la contre-croisade,” pp. 207–8, 209, 211, 213–
4. For an English translation of short extracts from al-Sulamı̄’s book on jihād, see
Christie, “Religious campaign,” pp. 57–75. In 492/1099, the qād.ı̄ of Damascus failed
to galvanize the ruling circles in Baghdād to respond to the conquest of Jerusalem.
See Mouton, Damas, p. 59.
4 Sibt b. al-Jawzı̄, Mir -āt al-zamān, vol. 8, pt. 1, p. 221; Sivan, L’Islam et la
.
Croisade, p. 62.
230 Yaacov Lev
and Saladin commits himself to be her champion (qirn).5 This was,

quite clearly, a remote goal, and one cannot escape the impression that
it served as a justification for a more immediate attempt to seize Syria.
In other words, the way to Jerusalem went through Damascus. On the
other hand, it can be argued that Saladin’s reference to Jerusalem tes-
tifies to the fact that invoking jihād had become in vogue during Nūr
al-Dı̄n’s reign and that Saladin was only following the mood of the time.
No less significant is the presentation of Saladin as a jihād fighter,
which gives an indication of the scope of the definition of holy war. The
first thing that strikes the reader is the pride that Saladin takes in his
and his family members’ personal involvement in waging jihād against
the unbelievers (kuffār ). The letter specifies the defense of Damietta
in 1169 against the combined attack launched by the Byzantines and
the Kingdom of Jerusalem, and refers to raids on the territories held
by the Franks (bilād al-kuffār ), the killing and capture of Franks, and
the re-conquest of forts held by them.6 Clearly, any defensive or offen-
sive military action against the Franks fell under the category of jihād.
The unavoidable conclusion is that in twelfth-century Syrian political
parlance, the term jihād encompassed every sort of engagement fought
against the Franks. Any Muslim leader who confronted the Franks could
claim the title of a warrior of the holy war (mujāhid, murābit.). The title
merely reflected actions, not a political or ideological commitment to
holy war. I suggest that the epigraphic evidence studied by Hillenbrand
supports this notion. For example, references to jihād do appear in in-
scriptions pertinent to Turkish emirs and rulers of Syria during the first
half of the twelfth century, and Hillenbrand writes about awakenings of
jihād awareness amongst the rulers of Syria. She concludes by stating:
“It is a clear indication that Nūr al-Dı̄n was building on foundations
which had already been laid down two decades earlier.”7 In my opinion,
the titles referring to jihād simply reflect the fact that in Syria wars with
the Franks were frequent, that Muslim rulers fought the Franks regularly,
and that the record of these wars is mirrored by the epigraphic evidence.
When set within a wider historical context, the lack of response to
al-Sulamı̄’s call for jihād is, perhaps, not surprising. Muslim states quite
frequently shirked the duty to wage jihād even when Muslim territories
were conquered by Christian powers. This is an important point worthy
of a short digression. In 354/965, for example, the conquest of Mas.ı̄s.a
and T.arsūs by the Byzantines triggered no ,Abbāsı̄ military response
since the state was entangled in an internal power struggle between the
5 Abū Shāma, Kitāb al-rawd.atayn, vol. 2, pp. 365, 366.

6 Abū Shāma, Kitāb al-rawd.atayn, vol. 2, pp. 360, 361.
7 See Hillenbrand, “Jihād propaganda,” pp. 68, 69.
caliph and the Buyid sultan. A possible link between the Byzantine
expansion and the appearance, in 356/967, of 5,000 fighters of the holy
war from Khurāsān in Aleppo, remains unclear. The Khurāsānı̄ contin-
gent reflects a wider socio-political phenomenon that has been discussed
by Deborah G. Tor, namely a shift that took place in the involvement
in jihād from the state to the grassroots level. It also demonstrates
the limits of the popular response to Byzantine expansion in Syria. Al-
though the Khurāsānı̄ fighters, supported by local volunteers, attacked
the Byzantines, they were no match for the Byzantine army and failed to
stop the Byzantine offensive.8 In 362/972–973, the Byzantine conquest
of Nas.ı̄bı̄n and the offensive against the Diyār Rabı̄,a region brought an
influx of refugees to Baghdād. They disrupted the Friday prayers and
invaded the caliph’s precinct, demanding that action be taken against
the invaders. Eventually, an army was dispatched against the Byzantines
and their aggression was checked, but Nas.ı̄bı̄n was lost.9 The importance
of the question of Muslim response to the mid-tenth-century Byzantine
expansion, and later to the First Crusade, is open to consideration. Per-
haps a more significant question is why the Muslims failed militarily in
dealing with the Byzantines and the First Crusade? One cannot explain
the failure by the absence of jihād ideology. As powerful as ideological
motivation may be, ideology in itself does not guarantee success; at most
it constitutes a contributing factor.
It is not that difficult to explain the Fāt.imı̄ failure to meet the chal-
lenge of the First Crusade. This began with a political failure to grasp
the Crusaders’ intentions and continued with a dismal performance by
the army dispatched to Ascalon. The Fāt.imı̄ defeat at the Battle of
Ascalon (12 August 1099) had a crippling effect on the conduct of the
Fāt.imı̄ armies sent to Palestine during the 1110s. Having no overall
strategy, the Fāt.imı̄s failed to take advantage of their spectacular vic-
tory at the Battle of Ramla in 1102. The response of the ,Abbāsı̄ state
was as ineffective as that of the Fāt.imı̄s. In 502/1108, largely because of
misguided Fāt.imı̄ policy, Tripoli was conquered by the Crusaders. The
fall of Beirut and Sidon followed in 503/1109. These events sparked a
response from the Seljukid sultan, Muh.ammad of Baghdād, who chose
to act through proxies. He instructed the emir Suqmān, the ruler of
Armenia and Mayyāfāriqı̄n, and Mawdūd, the ruler of Mosul, to wage
jihād against the Franks. This move galvanized other rulers to support
the campaign. Emir Il-Ghāzı̄ b. Artuq brought a sizeable force of Turk-
men (turkumān, Turkish nomads established in the Middle East and
Asia Minor since the second half of the eleventh century), along with
8 Antākı̄,
. Kitāb al-ta -rı̄kh, pp. 127–8, 130–1; Tor, “Privatized Jihād,” pp. 569, 573.
9 Ibn al-Jawzı̄, Al-Muntaz.am, vol. 8, p. 373.
232 Yaacov Lev
an unspecified number of volunteers who also joined the Muslim force,

and besieged Edessa, which had been conquered during the First Cru-
sade. The Franks dispatched a relief force composed of troops from the
Kingdom of Jerusalem, the County of Tripoli, and the Principality of
Antioch. The Atābak of Damascus failed, or did not try hard enough,
to prevent the Franks from arriving at the scene of the siege. Their very
arrival led the Muslim force to abandon the siege. Ibn al-Qalānisı̄ (d.
1160), the historian of Damascus and Syria, claims that the Muslims
seized the baggage train of the Franks on the Euphrates, but a direct
clash between the two forces was avoided.
Another military effort against the Franks took place in 504/1110.
Ibn al-Jawzı̄ (1126–1200), a prominent H . anbalı̄ jurist and historian of
Baghdād and the ,Abbāsı̄ caliphate, writes that in 504/1110 the Frankish
conquests in Syria stirred up popular unrest directed against the sultan
Muh.ammad. In Baghdād, three groups participated in the protest which
turned into riots: jurists and mystics, who can be seen as representing
the religious scholars, merchants, and noble descendants of the Prophet’s
clan from Aleppo. Lamenting the fate of Islam and the Muslims, on two
consecutive Fridays, the protesters disrupted the prayers at the congre-
gational mosques of the sultan and the caliph. In 505/1111, the sultan
organized another expedition to fight the Franks in Syria. The command
was given to Mawdūd of Mosul who led a combined Muslim force against
Tell Bāshir, but the rulers of Damascus and Aleppo did not join the cam-
paign and it ended in a fiasco.10 The events of 503/1109 and 505/1111,
illustrate two permanent issues in the Muslim response to the Frankish
presence during the first half of the twelfth century and beyond. In mil-
itary terms, fighting the Franks always proved to be a most demanding
task, and was, therefore, marked by caution. In political terms, broad
coalitions proved ineffective, in most cases. The reconquest of territo-
ries held by the Franks took place only when it tallied with the specific
interests of a single Muslim ruler.
The thrust of my argument in this paper is that jihād always had a
political context and cannot be studied outside of this context. The ide-
ology of jihād was superimposed upon political goals and interests or, to
put it differently, it was harnessed to serve them.11 My second argument
10 Ibn al-Jawzı̄, Al-Muntazam, vol. 10, pp. 109, 113; Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, Dhayl, pp. 165–
.
7, 173–5; Ibn al-,Adı̄m, Bughyat al-t.alab, vol. 3, p. 1300. For a wider discussion of
these events, see Prawer, Histoire de royaume latin, vol. 1, pp. 285–300; Heidemann,
Die Renaissance der Städte, pp. 209–21.
11 For the intricate relationships between religious ideology (jihād) and wars in
Islam, see Albrecht Noth, Heiliger Krieg und Heiliger Kampf in Islam und Chris-
tentum, pp. 20-25, 87–89. I am grateful to Dr. Judith Loebenstein-Witztum of the
Hebrew University for drawing my attention to Noth’s book.
is that military history must be brought to the fore. Although Elisséeff

dealt with the military history of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s reign, this remained pe-
ripheral to his discussion of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s rule and jihād. I would argue
that the attitude of Muslim rulers toward jihād was also a function
of their military capabilities. In military terms, fighting and defeating
the Franks was a daunting task, and the military resources of Syria’s
twelfth-century Muslim rulers were limited. Intra-Muslim warfare was
less demanding, and the conquest of territory held by other Muslims
could be achieved by a combination of military and non-military means.
When writing about Nūr al-Dı̄n’s reign, the biographies of the twelfth
and thirteenth century historians must not be ignored, and an attempt
to understand their perspective should be made. Our dependence on the
historical writings is overwhelming, but the personalities of the historians
are mostly shrouded in mystery, and many aspects of their lives remain
obscure. The least one can do is reconstruct their family background,
careers, and political leanings. The same applies to Nūr al-Dı̄n’s family.
One must not forget that he was the third generation of a Turkish mili-
tary family, and his family history may provide clues for understanding
his jihād policy, if he ever had one.
2 Historians and historiography

2.1 Ibn ,Asākir (1105–1176)
The depiction of Nūr al-Dı̄n as a warrior of the holy war goes back to Ibn
,Asākir, the famous muh.addith and historian of Damascus. Fragments
of Ibn ,Asākir’s biography, written by his son Muh.ammad al-Qāsim, are
quoted by Yāqūt (1179–1229) and al-Dhahabı̄ (1274–1348). The son
depicted his father as an ascetic who prayed with devotion, recited the
Qur-ān and dedicated his life to study and worship. He states that Ibn
,Asākir’s father was told in a dream that through a son of his, God will
revive the Sunna. Ibn ,Asākir’s asceticism is elaborated upon by al-
Dhahabı̄, who states that Ibn ,Asākir performed supererogatory prayers
and dhikr rituals. He sought seclusion in a minaret and avoided temp-
tations. One of his contemporaries described him as one who had no in-
terest in owning property and who declined appointments to posts such
as mosque preacher and leader of prayers. Ibn ,Asākir also practiced
commanding right and forbidding wrong (al-amr bi-’l-ma ,rūf wa-’l-nahy
,an al-munkar ), and his contacts with emirs, meaning the military ruling
elite of Damascus, were minimal.12
Mu ,jam al-buldān, vol. 4, p. 1697; Dhahabı̄, Ta -rı̄kh al-Islām (years 571–
12 Yāqūt,
580 AH), pp. 77, 79.

234 Yaacov Lev
Ibn ,Asākir’s asceticism typified the socially-oriented pietism that

prevailed in medieval Muslim urban society. It was characterized by mild
asceticism combined with a simple lifestyle and renunciation of riches.
Ascetics of this type were involved in society, especially through learning
and also had families of their own. Some of them also practiced al-amr bi-
’l-ma ,rūf, but what this actually meant is almost impossible to ascertain.
Reclusive asceticism was also common, especially in uninhabited areas.
,Izz al-Dı̄n Ibn Shaddād (1217–1285), for example, writes about a group
of hermits that lived on subsistence in the mountains of Lebanon. One
of the terms he uses when referring to them is abdāl, or substitutes,
meaning pious ascetics whose devotion protects and saves humanity, and
who were substituted after their death by others. Ibn ,Asākir must have
admired the abdāl. Toward the end of his life, he was engaged in writing
a book about them (Kitāb al-abdāl ) which was designated for his private
use and not for distribution. Judging from Ibn ,Asākir’s predilection for
biographies, it must have been a biographical dictionary.13
Notwithstanding the eulogistic motives of Muh.ammad al-Qāsim’s bi-
ography of his father, Ibn ,Asākir won the admiration of his contempo-
raries. Saladin attended his funeral and ,Imād al-Dı̄n al-Isfahānı̄ (1125–
1201) — a man of letters, an administrator, and Saladin’s confidant —
wrote that the heavens wept over Ibn ,Asākir. Both Yāqūt and Ibn
Khallikān (1211–1282) describe Ibn ,Asākir as a scholar whose life was
dominated by the study of h.adı̄th. In line with a deep-rooted Islamic
tradition of travelling in search of knowledge, Ibn ,Asākir acquired his
education in many places. Between 520/1126 and 521/1127, he studied
at the Niz.āmiyya law college in Baghdād and, in 522/1128, he went on
a pilgrimage to the Holy Cities of Arabia. From 529/1134, he travelled
in Azerbaijan and elsewhere in the Iranian world for some years. Ibn
,Asākir’s scholarly output is dominated by works dealing with traditions
(h.adı̄th) or h.adı̄th monographs. Inspired by a similar work by Khat.ı̄b
al-Baghdādı̄ (1001–1071), Ibn ,Asākir’s voluminous biographical dictio-
nary of notable Damascenes entitled The history of Damascus was also
held in high regard.14
Although Ibn ,Asākir was an important transmitter and teacher of
traditions, his biographers provide little information about the public
aspects of his life. Abū Shāma (1203–1268) who, like Ibn ,Asākir, was a
Damascene scholar who had deep roots in local society and avoided as-
sociation with the rulers, mentions Ibn ,Asākir’s presence at the sessions
13 Ibn Shaddād, Al-A,lāq al-khatı̄ra, p. 35; Dhahabı̄, Ta -rı̄kh al-Islām (years 571–
.
580 AH), p. 76; Yāqūt, Mu ,jam al-buldān, vol. 4, p. 1701. For socially oriented
pietism, see Lev, “Piety and politics,” pp. 290, 295–6.
14 Yāqūt, Mu ,jam al-buldān, vol. 4, p. 1698; Ibn Khallikān, Wafayāt al-a ,yān, vol.
3, pp. 309–310; Dhahabı̄, Ta -rı̄kh al-Islām (years 571–580 AH), pp. 71–72.
held by Nūr al-Dı̄n and Saladin in Damascus. Nevertheless, the impres-

sion is that Ibn ,Asākir was “an independent scholar,” meaning that he
held no official posts. He therefore had to finance his scholarly interests
himself. However, Tāj al-Dı̄n al-Subkı̄ (1327–1369) writes that Nūr al-
Dı̄n built a dār al-h.adı̄th (a house/institution for the study of prophetic
traditions) for Ibn ,Asākir who held a teaching position there. James E.
Lindsay makes the unsubstantiated claim that this dār al-h.adı̄th became
the center for Nūr al-Dı̄n’s jihād, whatever that might mean in practical
terms. No less speculative is Suleiman A. Mourad’s claim that, over-
whelmed by the Crusader challenge, Ibn ,Asākir reshaped the portrait
of Jesus in the History of Damascus to fit the Crusader context. In Ibn
,Asākir’s depiction, Jesus was to lead the Muslim holy war against the
Franks.15
A somewhat different and less flattering perspective on Ibn ,Asākir
is offered by Ibn al-Jawzı̄, who depicts Ibn ,Asākir as an Asha,rı̄ zealot,
opposed to H . anbalı̄ anthropomorphism. He writes nothing about Ibn
,Asākir’s pursuit of h.adı̄th and barely mentions his History of Damas-
cus. In any case, Ibn al-Jawzı̄ had little sympathy for traditionists of
Ibn ,Asākir’s type who, in his view, devoted their lives to the collection
of traditions while failing to understand them. Ibn al-Jawzı̄’s character-
ization of Ibn ,Asākir as an anti-H . anbalı̄ bigot was not an exaggeration.
As has been pointed out by Jean-Michel Mouton, Ibn ,Asākir’s hostility
16
to the H . anbalı̄s is clearly attested in the History of Damascus. Ibn
,Asākir can be considered the epitome of the Sunnı̄ Damascene society
into which Nūr al-Dı̄n tried hard to integrate. Although Ibn ,Asākir
appears to be an independent scholar with loose ties to the ruling estab-
lishment of Damascus, he was well disposed toward Nūr al-Dı̄n and his
regime.
Ibn ,Asākir’s biography of Nūr al-Dı̄n in the History of Damascus is
an important text which raises many questions. Although the textual
history of Ta -rı̄kh Dimashq has not yet been studied, internal evidence
indicates that Nūr al-Dı̄n’s biography was written after the Zankid con-
quest of Egypt in 1169. It depicts Nūr al-Dı̄n at the zenith of his career,
and can be considered as a summary and evaluation of his reign. Ibn
,Asākir portrays Nūr al-Dı̄n as a pious, charitable, and just ruler who
implemented a program of social policies that included the establishment
of many endowed institutions. The section devoted to Nūr al-Dı̄n’s holy
15 Abū Shāma, Kitāb al-rawdatayn, vol. 1, p. 54, vol. 2, p. 35; Subkı̄, Tabaqāt
. .
al-Shāfi ,iyya al-kubrā, vol. 7, p. 223; Lindsay, “Ibn ,Asākir,” p. 8; Mourad, “Jesus
according to Ibn ,Asākir,” pp. 25–26, 31. For a more sober approach, see Antrim,
“Ibn ,Asākir’s representation,” pp. 114–116.
16 Ibn al-Jawzı̄, al-Muntazam, vol. 10, p. 5439; Mouton, Damas, p. 7; Makdisi,
.
“Ash,arı̄ and Ash,arites,” pp. 212–213.
236 Yaacov Lev
war is short and appears immediately after the report on his entry to
Aleppo, following the death of his father in 1147. It deals with sev-
eral issues and mentions Nūr al-Dı̄n’s defeat of Joscelin II of Edessa who
tried to retake Edessa, which had been conquered by Nūr al-Dı̄n’s father.
After this remark we read:
Following Nūr al-Dı̄n’s consolidation of his rule [in Aleppo],

his efforts to carry out the holy war, to subdue the obdurate
infidels, and to care for the welfare (mas.ālih.) of the worship-
pers had been manifested.17
The account continues by enumerating the forts conquered by Nūr al-

Dı̄n and his victories over the Byzantines, while Nūr al-Dı̄n’s victory at
the Battle of H . ārim is mentioned in another section of the text. Ibn
,Asākir depicts Nūr al-Dı̄n as a warrior of the holy war and states that
he “dedicated his efforts toward the right path and exerted himself in the
holy war against the enemies of God. He exceeded in fighting them.” Ibn
,Asākir also mentions that Nūr al-Dı̄n held Frankish leaders in captivity.
These remarks appear in a rather surprising context: Nūr al-Dı̄n’s jihād
is juxtaposed with praise for his renewal of charitable water installations.
Ibn ,Asākir puts Nūr al-Dı̄n’s holy war and his care for the worship-
pers on the same level of importance. One cannot escape the impression
that by worshippers, Ibn ,Asākir meant ascetics in general and, per-
haps, ascetics of his own type in particular. Nūr al-Dı̄n was admired by
Ibn ,Asākir for both his personal qualities (or in his parlance, virtues,
manāqib) and policies. The text does not suggest that a certain per-
sonal trait or a policy were especially meritorious, certainly not jihād.
The whole of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s qualities and policies aroused Ibn ,Asākir’s
admiration and made him a hero in his eyes.
2.2 Ibn al-Qalānisı̄ (d. 1160)

As Ibn ,Asākir and Ibn al-Qalānisı̄ were contemporaries, and both lived
in Damascus, the comparison between their respective portraits of Nūr
al-Dı̄n is illuminating. Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, the historian of Damascus and
Syria, refers to Nūr al-Dı̄n as the sultan of Syria (al-Shām), highlight-
ing the fact that he was a state builder with dynastic ambitions. Nūr
al-Dı̄n’s dynastic-political ambitions, although obscured by Ibn ,Asākir,
must have been plainly clear to his contemporaries. For example, Ibn
al-Azraq al-Fāriqı̄ (1116–1176), the historian of Mayyāfāriqı̄n, in the
upper Diyār Bakr region, refers to Nūr al-Dı̄n as the king of Syria. Ibn
al-Qalānisı̄ lived in Damascus under Nūr al-Dı̄n’s rule and his favorable
17 Elisséeff, “Un document contemporain,” p. 137.
account of Nūr al-Dı̄n emphasizes what he sees as two aspects: his com-
mitment to justice, and the care he took not to shed the blood of fellow
Muslims during the conquest of Damascus. Ibn al-Qalānisı̄’s account of
Nūr al-Dı̄n’s justice is cast in a hagiographic format interpolated into
the chronicle of the events of the year 544/1149–1150. In that year, Nūr
al-Dı̄n intended to lead a campaign into the H . awrān region, Damascus’s
grain-producing hinterland to the south of the city, which had been af-
fected by drought. Nūr al-Dı̄n claimed that his move was a response
to Frankish raids on the region. Whatever the real reasons behind Nūr
al-Dı̄n’s intended campaign, referred to as jihād, Ibn al-Qalānisı̄ writes
that when he was in Ba,labakk (north of Damascus), rain began to fall,
and the population attributed the end of the drought to Nūr al-Dı̄n’s
justice and exemplary conduct and offered intercessory prayers (du ,ā -)
in his favour.18 This account might have been influenced by political
changes that took place in 544/1149–1150 in Damascus following the
death of its actual ruler Mu,in al-Dı̄n Unur. A coalition of emirs, headed
by the nominal ruler Mujı̄r al-Dı̄n, with the participation of the ra -ı̄s (the
civilian head) of Damascus, seized power in the town. Ibn al-Qalānisı̄
had little sympathy for the new rulers to whom he referred as arbāb
Dimashq, wulāt amr al-balad, and .sāh.ib al-amr.19 These expressions
convey contempt: the term arbāb is used when referring to holders of
administrative, religious, or military posts as opposed to the wielders of
political power, while wulāt amr al-balad (those who hold sway over the
town), and .sāh.ib al-amr (the ruler) imply lack of legitimacy. It remains
unclear whether Ibn al-Qalānisı̄’s belief in Nūr al-Dı̄n’s justice (which
had proved instrumental in bringing rain) actually reflected his think-
ing in 544/1149–1150 or was remolded retrospectively, following Nūr
al-Dı̄n’s conquest of Damascus in 549/1149. In any case, when referring
to Nūr al-Dı̄n, Ibn al-Qalānisı̄ systematically uses the title of the “Just
King” (al-malik al-,ādil ) Nūr al-Dı̄n and, occasionally, the less formal
epithet al-mawlā, the Lord. Ibn al-Qalānisı̄’s perception of Nūr al-Dı̄n
as state builder and sultan of Syria is unique, and he rarely refers to Nūr
al-Dı̄n’s military endeavors as jihād, although he sometimes alludes to
Nūr al-Dı̄n’s army as victorious and divinely protected.20 A consistent
feature in Ibn al-Qalānisı̄’s narrative is the attribution of victories over
the Franks to God, while Nūr al-Dı̄n is portrayed as God’s servant to
whom du ,ā - prayers are offered.21 Ibn al-Qalānisı̄ depicts Nūr al-Dı̄n as
an aspiring sultan who carved out a patrimony for himself, fighting both
18 Ibn al-Azraq, Ta -rı̄kh Mayyāfāriqı̄n wa-Āmid, p. 202; Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, Dhayl, pp.
308–309.
19 Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, Dhayl, pp. 306, 309, 313, 327.
20 Ibid., pp. 331, 333–334, 338, 340, 341, 352, 354.
21 Ibid, pp. 339, 340, 342.
238 Yaacov Lev
the Muslims and Franks. He was a successful and just ruler whom Ibn
al-Qalānisı̄ appreciated, but did not admire.
2.3 Ibn al-Athı̄r (1160–1233)

The writings of ,Izz al-Dı̄n b. al-Athı̄r are indispensable for the study of
Zankid history. Ibn al-Athı̄r, however, is both a historian of the Zankids
and their panegyrist. Furthermore, he was highly biased against Saladin.
Ibn al-Athı̄r’s biographers depict him as a person of noble character
and a modest scholar, who was interested in history, genealogy, and
the biographies of the Prophet’s Companions. Ibn Khallikān, who met
Ibn al-Athı̄r in 626/1228–1129, in Aleppo, was especially appreciative
of his abridgement of Sam,ānı̄’s genealogy, claiming that he made many
corrections to the text. Ibn al-Athı̄r’s abridgement became popular and
supplanted Sam,ānı̄’s original eight-volume text, which became rare.
Ibn al-Athı̄r was born in Jazı̄rat Ibn ,Umar on the Upper Tigris but in
579/1184 his family moved to Mosul. Ibn al-Athı̄r acquired his education
in Mosul, Baghdād, and Syria. He also visited Jerusalem, most certainly
after 1187. If Ibn al-Athı̄r held any posts, they are barely alluded to
by Ibn Khallikān, and the family’s economic circumstances are never
mentioned. The Athı̄r family owned some agricultural land near their
hometown, and Ibn al-Athı̄r must have been from a middle-class family.
Both Ibn Khallikān and al-Dhahabı̄ write that Ibn al-Athı̄r’s home was
open to scholars.22
When discussing Ibn al-Athı̄r’s hostility to Saladin, one must not
forget that in 587/1191, Ibn al-Athı̄r’s younger brother D . iyā- al-Dı̄n
(1162–1240) served Saladin for a few months, and then served his son al-
Malik al-Afd.al. Following Saladin’s death, al-Malik al-Afd.al became the
ruler of Damascus and D . iyā- al-Dı̄n his vizier. However, D
. iyā- al-Dı̄n in-
curred the hostility of the population, and his subsequent administrative
career could be described as a checkered one. He became famous for his
literary talents and for his mastery of the art of epistolary writing. An-
other brother of Ibn al-Athı̄r was Majd al-Dı̄n (1149–1211) who, in line
with family tradition, was learned in Arabic, the Qur-ān, and h.adı̄th. He
was also inclined toward mystics, for whom he established an endowed
lodge (ribāt.). His administrative career focused on Mosul, and he served
the Zankid rulers of the town in various capacities.23 The sources are
silent about the relations between the brothers and the possible influence
22 Ibn Khallikān, Wafayāt al-a ,yān, vol. 3, pp. 348–349; Dhahabı̄, Ta -rı̄kh al-Islām
(years 621–630 AH), pp. 396–397; Ibn Fūt.ı̄, Al-H . awādith al-jāmi ,a, p. 136.
23 Ibn Khallikān, Wafayāt al-a ,yān, vol. 5, pp. 389–391; Ibn Sā,ı̄, Al-Jami , al-
mukhtas.ar, pp. 299–301; Dhahabı̄, Ta -rı̄kh al-Islām (years 631–640 AH), pp. 354–
355.
of Ibn al-Athı̄r’s brothers and their careers on Ibn al-Athı̄r’s writings.

Although Ibn al-Athı̄r apparently held no official posts, he travelled ex-
tensively and befriended rulers and administrators.
Ibn al-Athı̄r deals with Zankid history in two of his historical works:
a universal history entitled al-Kāmil fı̄ ’l-ta -rı̄kh and al-Ta -rı̄kh al-bāhir
fı̄ ’l-dawla al-Atābakiyya (“The Shining History of the Atabekid Dy-
nasty”). Ibn al-Athı̄r explicitly states that al-Ta -rı̄kh al-bāhir was writ-
ten to set forth the virtues of the Zankid rulers and was intended for the
use of the Zankid ruler of Mosul, al-Qāhir b. Nūr al-Dı̄n Arslān Shāh
(1210–1219).24 In the history of the Atābeks, Ibn al-Athı̄r strictly ad-
heres to the book’s declared purpose, namely to recount the merits of
the Zankids, while events that tarnish their reputation were expunged
from the text. The history of the Atābeks can also be read as a vindi-
cation of the long association of Ibn al-Athı̄r’s family with the Zankids.
Ibn al-Athı̄r’s father served Nūr al-Dı̄n’s father, and thus any blemish on
,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s reputation could imply that Ibn al-Athı̄r’s father
had served an unworthy ruler. Ibn al-Athı̄r’s treatment of ,Imād al-Dı̄n
Zankı̄ in the history of the Atābeks is comprehensive and relies on oral
information derived from his father. Ibn al-Athı̄r deals extensively with
,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s wars with the Franks and bestows upon him an
aura of jihād. According to Ibn al-Athı̄r, ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s nomi-
nation in 521/1127 as governor of Mosul was motivated by the wish of
the Seljukid sultan, the vizier, and leading people in Mosul to have a
distinguished military leader in the town who was capable of defending
Muslim territories against the Franks. Ibn al-Athı̄r puts ,Imād al-Dı̄n
Zankı̄’s nomination in a broader context: that of the weakness of the
Muslim world in face of the growing Frankish might and expansion dur-
ing the 520s/1120s. The weakness of Islam is perceived as the feebleness
of Muslim rulers — “the kings of the Muslim land and emirs of the Mus-
lim nation (al-milla al-h.anafiyya).” Ibn al-Athı̄r’s depiction of ,Imād
al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ is one-sided; other chroniclers emphasized his temper and
brutal rule.25
Ibn al-Athı̄r also depicts other rulers of Syria of the first half of the
twelfth century as jihād warriors. The differences between Ibn al-Athı̄r’s
references to jihād and those of Ibn al-Qalānisı̄ are illustrated by their
obituaries of Tughtakı̄n, the ruler of Damascus who died in 522/1128.
Tughtakı̄n’s territories bordered the Franks and he fought them many
times, however, Ibn al-Qalānisı̄ does not refer to him in terms of jihād.
He emphasizes his just rule, while Ibn al-Athı̄r describes his wars against
24 Ibnal-Athı̄r, al-Ta -rı̄kh al-bāhir, pp. 2–3.

25 Ibnal-Athı̄r, al-Ta -rı̄kh al-bāhir, pp. 32–33, 3–5; Hillenbrand, “Abominable acts”,
pp. 121–123; idem, The Crusades, pp. 112–113.
240 Yaacov Lev
the Franks as jihād.26 One can only agree with Sivan that Ibn al-Athı̄r’s
writings are typified by grafting the ideology of jihād onto the first half
of the twelfth century. Ibn al-Athı̄r’s writings, especially his universal
history, are well known by modern scholars and his views have permeated
the current scholarly discourse on Nūr al-Dı̄n’s jihād to a great extant.
In order to put the issue of jihād into its proper historical context, it is
necessary to discuss Nūr al-Dı̄n’s family history.
3 The history of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s family

3.1 Qāsim al-Dawla Aq Sunqur (1087–1094)
Born in 511/1117, Nūr al-Dı̄n was the third generation of a Turkish mil-
itary family whose fortunes were closely intertwined with those of the
Seljukid sultans of Baghdād. Al-,Az.ı̄mı̄ (d. 1161) provides two versions of
the origins of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s grandfather Qāsim al-Dawla Aq Sunqur. Ac-
cording to one, he was a military slave of the Seljukid sultan Malik Shāh
(1072–1092); another states that he belonged to his inner circle, mean-
ing that he was a free man. Qāsim al-Dawla Aq Sunqur’s patronymic,
Ibn ,Abd Allāh, indicates that he was a first generation Muslim, prob-
ably a military slave who was converted to Islam in slavery. As could
be expected, Ibn al-Athı̄r adopts the second version and claims that
Qāsim al-Dawla Aq Sunqur was raised together with Malik Shāh while
Ibn Khallikān, a more sober and dispassionate historian of the Zankids,
follows the first version.27 Whatever Qāsim al-Dawla Aq Sunqur’s ori-
gin, in 480/1087–1088 Malik Shāh appointed him governor of Aleppo.
In 485/1092, following Malik Shāh’s death, Tutush, his younger brother
and the ruler of Damascus, became the supreme Seljukid sovereign in
Syria. He persuaded, or forced, Qāsim al-Dawla Aq Sunqur and other
governors in Syria who were directly appointed by Malik Shāh, to sup-
port him in his struggle against his nephew Barkyāruq for the sultanate.
This war was fought in Iran, and Qāsim al-Dawla Aq Sunqur aban-
doned Tutush, sided with Barkyāruq, and returned to Aleppo. Qāsim
al-Dawla Aq Sunqur owed his position, and maintained loyalty, to Ma-
lik Shāh, whereas his relations with Tutush were dominated by political
expediency. The inevitable showdown between the two took place in
487/1094, in Syria. Qāsim al-Dawla Aq Sunqur was defeated, captured,
and executed. Apparently, a strong element of personal animosity was
26 Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, Dhayl, p. 219; Ibn al-Athı̄r, al-Kāmil, vol. 9, p. 208.

27 Ibn al-,Adı̄m, Bughyat al-t.alab, vol. 3, p. 1954; Ibn al-Athı̄r, al-Ta -rı̄kh al-bāhir,
p. 4; Ibn Khallikān, Wafayāt al-a ,yān, vol. 1, p. 241.
also involved.28
Although Qāsim al-Dawla Aq Sunqur is an indistinct figure, his ca-
reer highlights how competitive, fragmented, and complex the Syrian
political scene was. Perhaps his downfall was not surprising since in
Seljukid Syria, authority was divided between the sultan Malik Shāh
and his younger brother Tutush who, in 470/1077, invaded Syria and,
in 471/1078, captured Damascus. Qāsim al-Dawla Aq Sunqur’s failure
in the world of high politics says nothing about his ability as a ruler on
a local level. Ibn al-Qalānisı̄ characterizes him as a ruler who inspired
royal awe (hayba), a positive attribute, and ruled justly. He fought
criminals, improved roads, and established safety for travellers. Conse-
quently, commerce flourished and state income increased. Ibn al-Athı̄r
writes that Qāsim al-Dawla Aq Sunqur prevented the troops from ex-
ploiting the villagers, but he also held them collectively responsible for
the safety of travellers crossing their district.29
Economic history is essential for the understanding of Zankid history
and, in particular, of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s reign and his ability, or lack thereof,
to wage war. The most comprehensive study of the economic history of
Syria and northern Mesopotamia from the second half of the eleventh
century until the thirteenth century is that of Stefan Heidemann. Hei-
demann perceives this period as one of economic recovery following the
decline associated with the collapse of ,Abbāsı̄ hegemony in the tenth
century. The vacuum left by the ,Abbāsı̄s was filled by Bedouin tribes
who seized power in the region. Bedouin rule was associated with the de-
cline of cities, long-distance trade, and gold coinage. After the Bedouins
were driven out by the Seljuks, came a period of urban and economic
recovery in spite of the Crusades. The policies of rulers such as Nūr
al-Dı̄n had a positive impact on both the rural and urban economies.
This period of renewed growth lasted until the Mongol invasion of the
mid-thirteenth century.30
When references to economic matters appear in the writings of twel-
fth-thirteenth century historians, they usually allude to rulers who ruled
justly and improved the economy. In some cases, in line with Heide-
mann’s arguments, it is quite obvious that the improvement came after
a period of destruction and economic decline. Examples are a legion.
For instance, the Tutush’s 470/1077 campaign in Syria was destructive
and ended only after the seizure of Damascus. In 468/1093, however,
28 Ibn al-,Adı̄m, Zubdat al-talab, vol. 1, pp. 328–330; Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, Dhayl, pp.
.
126-127; Elisséeff, Nūr al-Dı̄n, vol. 2, pp. 280–286; El-Azhari, The Saljuks of Syria,
pp. 73–76.
29 Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, Dhayl, p. 119; Ibn al-,Adı̄m, Zubdat al-talab, vol. 1, p. 326; Ibn
.
al-Athı̄r, al-Kāmil, vol. 8, p. 295; idem, al-Ta -rı̄kh al-bāhir, p. 15.
30 See Heidemann, Die Renaissance der Städte.
242 Yaacov Lev
Atsız, the Turkish ruler of Damascus, took steps to increase the agri-
cultural output in the Ghut.a, the agricultural belt around Damascus,
and the surrounding steppe (marj ). He supplied the fellahin with seeds
and forced them to repair the agricultural infrastructure. In a similar
vein, William of Tyre (ca. 1130–1190), the renowned historian of the
Latin East, writes about the revival of the rural hinterland of Ascalon
after the conquest of the town by the Crusaders in 1154. From 1099,
Ascalon had been a border town between the Fāt.imı̄s and the Kingdom
of Jerusalem, and the region had deteriorated due to constant warfare.
The Frankish conquest brought stability and the revival of agriculture.
William of Tyre writes with great enthusiasm about the exceptional fer-
tility of the long uncultivated land. In Arabic historiography, the theme
of economic revival is often combined with the theme of rule of justice.
The perception of justice as instrumental for economic prosperity per-
meated Arabic sources. It was both a literary motif and a reflection of
individual cases. In this vein, for example, Ibn al-Azraq describes the
beginning of the Artuqid rule in 1118 in Mayyāfāriqı̄n. The town was
partially ruined and misgoverned, but the Artuqids brought stability, tax
remissions, and restored safety. These steps brought about the revival
of both the countryside and trade.
Ibn al-,Adı̄m (1192-1262), the historian of Aleppo, presents us with
another example, although a negative one. He characterizes the gover-
nor Yaghı̄ Siyān of Antioch, who lost the town to the armies of the First
Crusade, as a capable military leader but an oppressor as far as the local
population was concerned. He draws sees a link between Yaghı̄ Siyān’s
notoriety and the fall of the town. When the Crusaders approached An-
tioch, rebellions erupted in the fortresses around the town and in some
cases the help of the Crusaders was sought. Furthermore, the officer who
betrayed Antioch was a victim of Yaghı̄ Siyān’s fiscal oppression.31 Al-
though the revitalization of the local economy did take place, territorial
expansion was a quicker way to enlarge the economic base of a Muslim
or Frankish principality.
If family history provides any insights into Nūr al-Dı̄n’s thinking
and policies, his grandfather’s legacy might be described as avoiding
confrontation with powerful rulers and making the economy a priority.
In a way, Nūr al-Dı̄n followed it: his politics were cautious and the
economy was high on his agenda.
31 Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, Dhayl, p. 106; Ibn al-,Adı̄m, Zubdat talab, vol. 1, pp. 294–
.
295, 298–299, 345–348; Ibn al-Azraq, Ta -rı̄kh Mayyāfāriqı̄n wa-Āmid, pp. 149–150;
William of Tyre, vol. 2, p. 236; Mouton, Damas, pp. 12–13. For a more skeptical
view about the merits of the Artuqid rule, see Hillenbrand, “The Career of Najm
al-Din Il-Ghāzı̄,” pp. 264–266.
3.2 ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ (1122–1146)

In 487/1094, when Qāsim al-Dawla Aq Sunqur was executed, his only
son ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ was about ten years old, and even Ibn al-Athı̄r is
unable to provide a convincing account of how he survived the death
of his father. He claims that Qāsim al-Dawla Aq Sunqur’s military
slaves rallied around the young boy. This is possible, but military slaves
needed employment and income; one can only wonder what the young
,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ had to offer them. In 488/1095, with the death
of Tutush in the battle with Barkyaruq, ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s circum-
stances changed for the better. Kirbūka, ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s uncle,
was released from prison in H . ims. Kirbūka raised ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄
in Mosul and granted iqt.ā ,s to his military slaves. ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s
upbringing, under Kirbūka’s supervision, was dominated by participa-
tion in military campaigns. Kirbūka died in 494/1101 but, during the
years 494–515/1101–1121, ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ enjoyed the patronage of
other rulers of Mosul. In 516/1122, he was appointed to his first position
— governor of Basra. He was 39 years old, a rather advanced age at a
time when life expectancy was short, but he brought vast military and
political experience to the post. As governor of a town in southern Iraq,
,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ became entangled in the struggle between the caliph
and the sultan. ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ supported the latter and decided to
seek direct patronage of the sultan. Ibn al-Athı̄r, on the authority of his
father, recounts the deliberations that took place between ,Imād al-Dı̄n
Zankı̄ and his aspiring emirs who sought a stronger patron and better
careers. Eventually, ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ received the sultan’s patronage,
who also married him off to the wealthy widow of one of his deceased
emirs.32
In 521/1127, ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ was appointed governor of Mosul.
He took the town peacefully after negotiating a settlement with the
local emir. Although Ibn al-Athı̄r is a Zankid sympathizer, he is an
insightful and, occasionally, candid historian. He clarifies both ,Imād
al-Dı̄n’s long-term goals as well as his more immediate concerns. His
long term goal was “the crossing of the Euphrates and the seizure of
Aleppo and the other towns of Syria.” However, the immediate goal was
expansion in Upper Mesopotamia in order to seize territories and divide
them as grants (iqt.ā ,āt) to the army.33 Ibn al-Athı̄r unintentionally
draws attention to the crucial importance of territory in the process
of state-building of that time. Since Muslim armies were maintained
32 Ibn al-Athı̄r, al-Ta -rı̄kh al-bāhir, pp. 15–16, 24–25; al-Kāmil, vol. 9, pp. 83, 88,
177; Elisséeff, Nūr al-Dı̄n, vol. 2, pp. 287–288, 293–329; Hillenbrand, “Abominable
acts”, pp. 113–115.
33 Ibn al-Athı̄r, al-Ta -rı̄kh al-bāhir, p. 37.
244 Yaacov Lev
through the iqt.ā , system (i.e. granting fiscal rights over land in exchange
for military service), territorial expansion became the lifeblood of any
principality as it fought for its political future.
,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s first conquest was the town of Jazı̄rat Ibn ,Umar,
followed by Nas.ı̄bı̄n, west of it. His next conquests involved Sinjār,
west of Mosul, the settlements along the Khābūr river, and the town of
H. arrān. Ibn al-Athı̄r claims that the people of H . arrān gladly submit-
ted to ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s rule, confident that he would defend them
against the Franks of Edessa, and he indeed concluded a truce with them.
When dealing with this early stage of ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s independent
career, Ibn al-Athı̄r does not depict him as a warrior of the holy war and
refrains from using jihād as a tool for conferring legitimacy. He adopts
another approach and depicts ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ as an auspicious ruler.
This motif appears in the account referring to the conquest of Jazı̄rat Ibn
,Umar. According to Ibn al-Athı̄r, ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s army entered
the town a day ahead of a violent and unexpected flooding of the Tigris.
Ibn al-Athı̄r’s message is subtle, and implies that ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s
good fortune was a sign of divine protection and guidance. Shortly after
the conquest of Jazı̄rat Ibn ,Umar, ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ realized his goal
of “crossing the Euphrates” and, in 522/1128, he conquered Aleppo.
The independent phase of ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s career could be de-
scribed as the outburst of a long suppressed energy driven by the desire
for conquest and expansion, and marked by fighting on many fronts.
Many of ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s conquests involved Muslim territories. In
522/1128, ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ conquered Manbij and the fort of Buzā,a,
both between Aleppo and Qal,at Najm on the Euphrates. In 524/1130,
he conquered the towns of Sirj and Dārā, between Mārdı̄n and Nas.ı̄bı̄n.
This brought ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ into conflict with the ruler of Mārdı̄n
H. usām al-Dı̄n Timurtāsh b. Il-Ghāzı̄ and the ruler of H . is.n Kayfā, on the
Upper Tigris, Rukn al-Dawla b. Suqmān. They mobilized a large force
of Turkmen, but were defeated.34
In terms of the methods used, ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s most unsavory
conquest was that of Hama in 523/1129. Ibn al-Athı̄r presents two very
different accounts of this affair: one in the universal history and another
in the history of the Atābeks. According to the version in the universal
history, ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ crossed the Euphrates “pretending to wage
holy war against the Franks” and asked Tāj al-Dı̄n Būrı̄, the ruler of
Damascus, for assistance; he sent his son Bahā- al-Dı̄n Sūnuj, the ruler
of Hama, on this mission. ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ acted treacherously and
34 Ibn al-Athı̄r, al-Ta -rı̄kh al-bāhir, p. 38; idem, al-Kāmil, vol. 9, p. 215; Ibn al-
,Adı̄m, Zubdat .talab, vol. 2, pp. 431–432, 437; Elisséeff, Nūr al-Dı̄n, vol. 2, pp. 332–
344.
imprisoned Bahā- al-Dı̄n, captured Hama and demanded a ransom of

50,000 dı̄nārs for his release. This version tallies with the one recounted
by Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, but does not appear in Ibn al-Athı̄r’s history of the
Atabeks, where the capture of Hama is referred to in a single short and
dry sentence. In the struggle for Hama, the town changed hands several
times. In 527/1133, ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ lost Hama and, in 529/1135,
reconquered it. It is very difficult to gain a clear picture of what kind
of place Hama was at that time. Yāqūt (1179–1229) writes that it is
a great city, famous for its splendor and cheap commodities. It had an
imposing citadel and was surrounded by orchards. It is impossible to
deduce if this is contemporary description or it depicts the city as it was
before Yāqūt’s time. Surely Damascus was a greater prize. Although
,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ put much effort — both military and politically —
in his attempts to take the town, he was unable to exploit the political
instability in 529/1135 in Damascus to his advantage.35
The case of Hama raises the question of how bloody intra-Muslim
warfare really was. The sources are reticent on this issue and the only ex-
plicit reference appears in the context of ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s conquests
in 537/1143 in the Kurdish region of Jabal Hakkārı̄, north of Mosul.
Combat for the Ashab fort was fierce and involved much bloodshed, in-
cluding the execution of captured Kurdish officers. ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄
razed the fort and constructed a new one named Qal,at al-,Imādiyya.
The impression conveyed by Ibn al-Athı̄r’s account in the universal his-
tory is that such carnage was exceptional. Ibn al-Athı̄r ends the account
about ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s campaign in the region by saying that “the
population (of the Jazı̄ra?) became safe from the Kurds,” meaning prob-
ably Kurdish raids. However, this statement is open to several different
interpretations. It might suggest that when fighting the Kurds, ,Imād
al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ intentionally adopted a policy of killing and intimidation,
but it might also be interpreted as an apologetic comment: the desir-
able aim of bringing security to the population justified ,Imād al-Dı̄n
Zankı̄’s harsh methods. However, one must not exclude the possibility
that ethnic enmity between Turks and Kurds also played a role in these
events.36
We can, in fact, approach this issue from a broader perspective and
ask how bloody Muslim-Christian warfare was. Battles which ended
in a Muslim triumph were characterized by widespread carnage of the
enemy, but prisoners were also taken and their treatment depended on
35 Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, Dhayl, pp. 227–228, 244–248; Yāqūt, Mu ,jam al-buldān, vol. 2,
p. 300; Ibn al-Athı̄r, al-Kāmil, vol. 8, pp. 211–212. For ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s policy
toward Damascus, see Zouache, “Zangı̄,” pp. 77–79.
36 Ibn al-Athı̄r, al-Kāmil, vol. 9, pp. 236–237; Yāqūt, Mu ,jam al-buldān, vol. 5, pp.
149, 408.
246 Yaacov Lev
their social standing. High-ranking prisoners were kept alive for ransom.
The killing of prisoners of war did take place, but this practice was not
widespread. Another question is what happened to conquered towns and
to what extent did religious hatred toward the defeated enemy play a role
in the treatment of non-combatants. The events of the First Crusade and
those of the 1110s are not necessarily indicative of mid-twelfth century
Muslim-Christian warfare. By that time, Muslim-Christian warfare had
became routine and, apparently, some conventions were respected by
both sides. It seems that on some occasions, ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ deviated
from these conventions. For example, in 530/1135, he besieged Athārib,
south-west of Aleppo, and after the capitulation of the town killed the
male population while enslaving women and children.37
It is true that ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s siege of Athārib was in retalia-
tion for previous destructive raids on Aleppo’s agricultural hinterland,
but raiding the countryside was a standard military practice. Killing
the men while sparing women and children might by explained by the
absence of agricultural slave labour in twelfth-century Syria. Neither are
there any indications of large scale servile labour in the urban context
such as on construction sites. Therefore, low-class male captives had
little “economic value,” so to speak. Women and children, on the other
hand, became domestic slaves and were integrated into the household
economy.38
In some cases, raiding brought great numbers of captives. In 530/
1135, for example, ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s governor of Aleppo successfully
raided the Frankish territory of Latakiyya and captured 7,000 people
and animals. The emphasis on the capture of people might indicate that
this area was populated by a Latin population. It is doubtful whether
the capture of Muslims, or even a local indigenous Christian population,
would be singled out as a meritorious deed. The capture of Muslims
would be regarded as a displacement of population and, most likely,
would not be attempted at all. One can only infer that the people cap-
tured in this raid belonged to rural Latin population. Ibn al-Athı̄r writes
that they were men, women, and children, and that the captors must
have sold them into slavery. The re-conquest of former Muslim territories
raised the intriguing question of the ownership of land owned by Mus-
lims prior to the Frankish conquest. In 531/1137, ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄
re-conquered Ma,arrat al-Nu,mān and Kfar T . āb, east of the Orontes. In
37 Anonymous, The first and second Crusades, pp. 274–275. For the location of
Atharib and its geographical importance, see Elisséeff, Nūr al-Dı̄n, vol. 1, pp. 186–
187; Zouache, “Zangı̄,” p. 70.
38 The discussion concerning the extent of slavery in the Latin East seems to be
inconclusive, see Prawer, Crusader institutions, pp. 201–117; Kedar, “The subjected
Muslims,” pp. 152–154.
these two places, he returned lands to Muslim owners and the claims
were examined according to the tax registers (dafātir ) of Aleppo. It is
clear that some kind of documentary evidence indicating ownership was
required. This leaves open the question of cases where there was no such
evidence to back up claims of ownership prior to the Frankish conquest.
The sources do not tell us what happened to the recently resettled Mus-
lim population when the Byzantine army campaigned in this region in
39
532/1138. In any case, the garrison of Kfar T . āb fled the place.
The conquest of Edessa in 1144 demonstrates another point: the ten-
uous line between the destruction of enemy territory during the conquest
and efforts to preserve its economic viability. According to Monique
Amouroux-Mourad, 15,000 inhabitants were killed during the conquest
of Edessa.40 At a certain point, however, ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ ordered to
stop the killing and looting that took place during and after the conquest
of the town. Ibn al-Athı̄r writes that “political wisdom (siyāsa) did not
allow the destruction of such a town.” ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ ordered the re-
lease of the captives and the return of the looted goods, and Ibn al-Athı̄r
makes the rather improbable claim that “the town returned to its former
state.” ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s initial intentions were quite different. He
asked the religious leaders of Edessa to surrender and promised to keep
the city intact. After the bloody conquest, ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ expro-
priated the Frankish properties in the town, but treated the surviving
Armenian and Syriac population well.41
If we turn to the broader issue of jihād and its place in the political
life of Syria in the first half of the twelfth century, it can be argued that
the ideology of jihād did not galvanize Muslim rulers into an all-out war
against the Franks. Although any engagement fought against the Franks
could have been presented as jihād, the religious content of the jihād ide-
ology did not shape the policy of Muslim rulers toward the Franks. This
is evident even from Ibn al-Athı̄r’s discourse of jihād, especially when the
differences between the universal history and the history of the Atābeks
are taken into account. In 524/1130, for example, ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄
besieged the fort of Athārib, between Aleppo and Antioch. Ibn al-Athı̄r
affirms that he fought in the name of Islam against Christianity, aiming
to promote the cause of Islam based on adherence to God’s commands,
against those who deviated from them (the supposed ideological aspects
of this campaign are not mentioned in the universal history). One can
infer that Ibn al-Athı̄r understood jihād as involving two levels: the
universal struggle between Islam and Christianity for supremacy and a
39 Ibn al-Athı̄r, al-Kāmil, vol. 9, p. 263; Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, Dhayl, p. 266.
40 See Amouroux-Mourad, Le comté d’Edesse, p. 86.
41 Ibn al-Athı̄r, al-Kāmil, vol. 9, pp. 294–295; Anonymous, The first and second
Crusades, pp. 282–287; Elisséeff, Nūr al-Dı̄n, vol. 2, pp. 377–381.

248 Yaacov Lev
local territorial struggle between Muslims and Christians. Both aspects

were inextricable and any local victory had consequences for the broader
context.42
Ibn al-Athı̄r’s complex discourse on ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s jihād is
also illustrated by the case of Edessa. According to Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, the
conquest of Edessa was ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s long-standing goal and he
took advantage of Joscelin’s absence, with most of his army, from the
town. Ibn al-Qalānisı̄ does not describe this campaign as motivated by
the spirit of the holy war. However, he writes that when ,Imād al-Dı̄n
Zankı̄ appealed to the Turkmen to join the campaign, he urged them to
carry out the duty of jihād. Ibn al-Athı̄r’s accounts of the conquest of
Edessa reveal the usual disparity between the narratives in the universal
history and the history of the Atābeks. In the history of the Atābeks,
the emphasis is on the return of Edessa to Muslim rule (h.ukm al-Islām)
and the re-establishment of Muslim law (ah.kām ahl al-ı̄mān), while in
the universal history, the underlying motif is that the conquest put an
end to Frankish raids. These accounts are complementary rather than
contradictory. In the universal history, when referring to ,Imād al-Dı̄n
Zankı̄’s wars against the Franks, Ibn al-Athı̄r’s narrative strategy is quite
simple: the emphasis is not on motives but on the results, and the
practical aspects of ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s achievements are emphasized.
In the history of the Atabeks, the religious dimension of ,Imād al-Dı̄n
Zankı̄’s achievements in fighting the Franks are brought to the fore: Islam
is winning in the struggle against Christianity.43
Ibn al-Athı̄r also found a way to present ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s wars
against other Muslim rulers. For example, in the universal history, Ibn
al-Athı̄r refers to ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s 538/1144 campaign in the Diyār
Bakr region, which ended in the conquest of forts held by Muslim rulers
and the Franks. Ibn al-Athı̄r claims that ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s preoc-
cupation with the affairs of Diyār Bakr aimed to delude the Franks of
Edessa that no danger awaited them. This brought Joscelin to leave
the town with his army. Thus, a war against Muslim rulers was instru-
mental to achieving a higher goal: the conquest of Edessa. However,
upon a closer reading of the universal history, it becomes evident that
certain motifs appear in both of Ibn al-Athı̄r’s works. The redemptive
nature of the conquest of Edessa and, consequently, of the holy war as
such, is emphasized in both the universal history and the history of the
Atabeks. This motif is introduced through a tale about a dream of a
certain pious man who was told by ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ that the conquest
42 Ibnal-Athı̄r, al-Ta -rı̄kh al-bāhir, p. 39; idem, al-Kāmil, vol. 8, p. 215.

43 Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, Dhayl, p. 279; Ibn al-Athı̄r, al-Ta -rı̄kh al-bāhir, p. 66; idem,
al-Kāmil, vol. 9, p. 293.
of Edessa brought him divine absolution. Ibn al-Athı̄r’s allusion to jihād

as redemptive has a long tradition in Islam. As has been pointed out by
David Cook, it is referred to in the Qur-ān and became fully articulated
by ,Abd Allāh b. al-Mubārak (d. 767) who summarized the concept of
war and sin by saying that “the sword wipes away sins.” By the time of
Saladin, as the Muslim warfare against the Franks intensified, in some
cases, the execution of Frankish prisoners of war came to be regarded
as purifying Muslim lands. Following the victory at H . ittı̄n, this expla-
nation was offered as a justification for the execution of the captured
Hospitallers and Templars, killings that were carried out by religious
scholars (,ulamā -).44
Ibn al-Athı̄r’s presentation of ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ as inspired by jihād
ideology is unique. The contrast between Ibn al-Athı̄r’s narrative and
that of Ibn al-Qalānisı̄ is epitomized by their respective accounts of the
events of the year 531/1137, which was one of incessant warfare. A
Turkmen force from Damascus successfully raided the county of Tripoli,
while ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ besieged H. ims. in vain. This time, ,Imād al-Dı̄n
Zankı̄ was more successful fighting the Franks than the Muslims. He went
to besiege the fort of Barı̄n (Montferrand), north of Orontes in the county
of Tripoli, and won a victory in a pitched battle against the Franks. In
this battle, the Turks, meaning ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s professional cavalry
maintained by the iqt.ā , system, sustained heavy losses when fleeing the
Franks. However, another force hidden in ambush attacked the Frankish
infantry and baggage train. The main Frankish force pursuing the Turks
also sustained losses, and the Muslims took rich spoils.
Ibn al-Qalānisı̄’s account inspires confidence. Clearly, ,Imād al-Dı̄n
Zankı̄ adopted the classic twofold Turkish tactic of feigned retreat and
ambush, the aim of which was to expose the pursuers to attack by the
force in ambush. It is possible that the feigned retreat was badly exe-
cuted, and the fleeing force suffered unexpected casualties. In any case,
the Franks were defeated because of the separation between cavalry and
infantry, which on its own was incapable of withstanding the Muslim
cavalry.
Following the victory, ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ besieged and conquered
Barı̄n before the arrival of a Frankish relief force. On the same campaign,
he also conquered Ma,arrat al-Nu,mān and Kfar T . āb. Ibn al-Qalānisı̄’s
account of these events is devoid of any references to jihād, and the same
is true of Ibn al-Athı̄r’s account in the universal history. The account in
the history of the Atābeks is long, imprecise, and embellished. ,Imād al-
44 Ibn al-Athı̄r, al-Ta -rı̄kh al-bāhir, p. 70; idem, al-Kāmil, vol. 9, pp. 291, 294, 295;
Cook, Understanding Jihād, pp. 14–15; Sivan, L’Islam, pp. 62–63, Lev, “Prisoners of
war,” p. 15. For the Christian perception of the Muslim as defiling by their presence
the Holy Land, see Hay, “Gender bias,” p. 6.
250 Yaacov Lev
Dı̄n Zankı̄ inspired his troops by references to jihād and God granted the
Muslims a victory. The implied message seems to be: proper motivation
secures God’s favors.45
Ibn al-Athı̄r’s discourse on ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s jihād is inconsistent.
Given the differences between Ibn al-Athı̄r’s two historical works, and
the long textual evolution of the work on the universal history, this
is hardly surprising. Furthermore, in the universal history, ,Imād al-
Dı̄n Zankı̄ is referred to as a state builder who vigorously expanded
and defended his territories, fighting both Muslims and Franks. In this
respect, Ibn al-Athı̄r’s treatment of ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ is completely
different from his treatment of Nūr al-Dı̄n. Nūr al-Dı̄n’s political and
dynastic ambitions are not mentioned by Ibn al-Athı̄r at all. When
referring to ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s state, Ibn al-Athı̄r avoids the term
dawla (state, dynasty) and uses the term bilād (territories). However, in
this context, the term bilād has a clear political meaning. For example,
the campaign of 541/1146–1147, which was waged against the Muslim
rulers of Qal,at Ja,bar, north of the Euphrates in the Diyār Mud.ar region,
and the Finik fort, on the Tigris, north of Jazı̄rat Ibn ,Umar, is described
as being motivated by the desire to remove the foreign presence (wa-kāna
sabab dhālika annahu kāna lā yurı̄du an yakūna fı̄ wasat. bilādihi mā huwa
mulk ghayrihi ) from the midst of ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s bilād. Both forts
resisted fiercely and ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ offered Sālim b. Mālik al-,Uqaylı̄,
the ruler of Qal,at Ja,bar, large sums of money and iqt.ā ,s in exchange
for the surrender of the fort. Eventually, following ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s
assassination on 6 Rabı̄,a II 541/15 September 1146, both sieges were
lifted.46 The proposals made to the ruler of Qal,at Ja,bar highlight the
fact that when fighting Muslims, the range of options available to ,Imād
al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ was wide. Territorial expansion could also be achieved
through diplomacy and offers of generous surrender terms; fighting was
only one of the options. Thus large-scale bloodshed in intra-Muslim wars
could be avoided.
Perhaps the most balanced evaluation of ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s career
as state builder is offered by Ibn al-,Adı̄m. Although he praises ,Imād
al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s victories over the Franks, he does not depict him as a ruler
motivated by the ideology of jihād. In fact, the term is not mentioned
at all. He is described as one who brought Frankish aggression to a halt,
and paved the way for the conquest of their territories. Above all, ,Imād
al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ is referred to as a succor sent by God to protect Aleppo, a
mission continued by his progeny. These praises came after a short and
45 Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, Dhayl, pp. 258–259; Ibn al-Athı̄r, al-Kāmil, vol. 9, pp. 262–263;
idem, al-Ta -rı̄kh al-bāhir, pp. 59–61.

46 Ibn al-Athı̄r, al-Kāmil, vol. 9, pp. 300–301; Elisséeff, Nūr al-Dı̄n, vol. 2, pp.
383–386.
dry remark referring to ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s carving out a patrimony

by seizing Muslim towns and conquering places held by the Franks.47
4 Nūr al-Dı̄n the sultan of Syria

4.1 The young prince Nūr al-Dı̄n
In 1146, upon the assassination of ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄, Nūr al-Dı̄n took
control of Aleppo while his brother, Sayf al-Dı̄n Ghāzı̄, established him-
self in Mosul. How well prepared Nūr al-Dı̄n was for the role of ruler
is an intriguing question, especially as Ibn al-Furāt (1334–1405), rely-
ing on Ibn Abı̄ T.ayy (1179–1232), depicts the young prince as a drinker
who visited drinking dens and befriended commoners, some of whom
later became the cornerstones of his regime. Furthermore, according to
this account, Nūr al-Dı̄n, the champion of Sunnı̄ Islam, manifested Shı̄,ı̄
tendencies early on in his life. Ibn Abı̄ T . ayy’s account, however, lacks
any references to dates and we are left in the dark as to when exactly
this stage in Nūr al-Dı̄n’s life was. The references to Nūr al-Dı̄n’s un-
orthodox early lifestyle appear in the obituary of the emir Majd al-Dı̄n
b. Dāya. According to Ibn Abı̄ T.ayy, he and his brother were poor shoe-
makers with whom Nūr al-Dı̄n used to drink and spend nights in derelict
buildings.
One should not expect Ibn al-Athı̄r to include such information in
his writings. He, following Ibn al-Azraq, refers to Ibn Dāya as Nūr al-
Dı̄n’s milk brother. In passing, Ibn al-,Adı̄m refers to emir Majd al-Dı̄n
as Muh.ammad b. Muh.ammad b. Nūshtakı̄n, indicating that he was of
Turkish extraction. Both Ibn Abı̄ T . ayy and Ibn al-Athı̄r agree that Ibn
Dāya was one of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s leading emirs, if not the highest-ranking
one. Nūr al-Dı̄n’s loyalty to Ibn Dāya’s extended family was demon-
strated in 565/1169–1170 when, upon Ibn Dāya’s death, he transferred
Ibn Dāya’s iqt.ā , to his brother.48
The sources do not report whether Nūr al-Dı̄n received any formal
training that prepared him for rule. Sibt. b. al-Jawzı̄, for example, claims
that Nūr al-Dı̄n was the preferred son and that his father discerned signs
indicating his future greatness. It seems that during ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s
reign, Nūr al-Dı̄n enjoyed a higher position than his brother, Sayf al-Dı̄n
al-Ghāzı̄. Nūr al-Dı̄n was established in Aleppo while al-Ghāzı̄ held
Shahrazūr as an iqt.ā , and following the death of his father was brought
47 Ibnal-,Adı̄m, Bughyat al-t.alab, vol. 8, pp. 3845–3846.
48 Ibnal-Furāt, Ta -rı̄kh, vol. 4, pt. 1, pp. 106–108; Ibn al-Athı̄r, al-Kāmil, vol. 9,
pp. 441, 458; Ibn al-Azraq, Ta -rı̄kh Mayyāfāriqı̄n wa-Āmid, p. 193; Ibn al-,Adı̄m,
Bughyat al-t.alab, vol. 6, p. 2745.
252 Yaacov Lev
to Mosul by Zayn al-Dı̄n ,Alı̄ Küçük, ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s deputy in

Mosul. The death of Zankı̄ shattered the political unity of the Zankı̄d
state. Nūr al-Dı̄n took control of Syria, including Aleppo, H . ims., Hama,
Manbij, and H . arrān, while Sayf al-Dı̄n Ghāzı̄ became the ruler of Mosul
and Diyār Rabı̄,a. The fragmentation of the Zankid state was not only
geographical; it also extended to the ruling elite: various members of the
elite identified themselves either with Nūr al-Dı̄n or Sayf al-Dı̄n Ghāzı̄.49
It seems that Nūr al-Dı̄n was better prepared to rule. His response to
the attempt to re-take Edessa after the assassination of his father was
swift and determined. Ibn al-Athı̄r writes that following Nūr al-Dı̄n’s
campaign, the population of Edessa dwindled.50
4.2 Expansionism and state building

Nūr al-Dı̄n’s greatest territorial achievements involved the conquest of
Damascus and Egypt and bringing Mosul under his direct rule. The
plain truth is that Nūr al-Dı̄n’s conquest of Frankish territories was far
less significant than that of Muslim territories. He created a large state
that encompassed the key Muslim territories of Syria, and although it
had no access to the sea, it held sway over the major inland towns and
an extensive agricultural hinterland. Nūr al-Dı̄n’s dynastic ambitions
must have been clear to his contemporaries. Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, in contrast
to Ibn al-Athı̄r who ignores this issue, refers to Nūr al-Dı̄n’s state as al-
dawla al-sa ,ı̄da (the felicitous state/dynasty).51 The text most essential
to understanding expansionism and state building in the context of the
twelfth century is perhaps Sibt. b. al-Jawzı̄’s long obituary of Nūr al-Dı̄n.
Sibt. b. al-Jawzı̄ was not a Zankid panegyrist. He quotes long sections
derived from both Ibn ,Asākir and Ibn al-Athı̄r, but also makes his own
observations. Such observations and the way Sibt. b. al-Jawzı̄ used the
materials supplied by others make this text an original contribution and
not just a derivative.
Sibt. b. al-Jawzı̄ begins by quoting Ibn ,Asākir’s statement that Nūr
al-Dı̄n was raised in a good and righteous way that involved reading the
Qur-ān and performing devotional practices, paying little attention to
military affairs. Although this statement is presented as a quotation, it
cannot be traced back to Ibn ,Asākir’s obituary of Nūr al-Dı̄n (certainly
not the description of Nūr al-Dı̄n as “paying little attention to military
affairs” in his youth). More than anything, it seems to be a refutation
49 Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, Dhayl, p. 288; Ibn al-Azraq, Ta -rı̄kh Mayyāfāriqı̄n wa-Āmid, pp.
192–193; Sibt. b. al-Jawzı̄, Mir -āt al-zamān, vol. 8, pt. 2, p. 305.

50 Ibn al-Athı̄r, al-Kāmil, vol. 9, pp. 303–304; Elisséeff, Nūr al-Dı̄n, vol. 2, pp.
398–400.
51 Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, Dhayl, p. 336.
of Ibn Abı̄ T. ayy’s claims about Nūr al-Dı̄n’s boyhood debauchery. Sibt.
b. al-Jawzı̄ lists some of the places Nūr al-Dı̄n conquered, especially in
the county of Edessa. He mentions his military triumphs over the Franks
as well as the spoils and prisoners he captured. Then comes the following
statement:
And his kingdom spread. He conquered Mosul, Jazı̄ra, Diyār

Bakr, Syria, the ,Awās.im [meaning the former border area
between Muslim Syria and Byzantium], Damascus, Ba,la-
bakk, Bāniyās, Egypt and Yemen. His name was mentioned
in the Friday sermons worldwide. He manifested the Sunna in
Aleppo, abolished the Shı̄,ı̄ call for prayer, and built endowed
law colleges there.
The rest of the text is devoted to reports specifying Nūr al-Dı̄n’s virtues,
policies, and deeds. Sibt. b. al-Jawzı̄ makes no independent remarks
about Nūr al-Dı̄n’s jihād. Jihād is only mentioned indirectly through
a quotation from Ibn al-Athı̄r which deals with Nūr al-Dı̄n’s justice,
asceticism, jihād, and virtues. This issue is again referred to at the end
of the text by quoting Ibn al-Athı̄r who had stated that Nūr al-Dı̄n was
disappointed by Saladin’s lack of zeal in fighting the Franks. This is
contrasted with Nūr al-Dı̄n’s determination to free Jerusalem and to put
an end to the Frankish presence in Syria (the term used is sawāh.il, the
coastal regions).52
Sibt. b. al-Jawzı̄’s remark about the territorial scope of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s
state highlights the need to examine Nūr al-Dı̄n’s military methods. The
conquest of Damascus and Egypt, for example, shared some common fea-
tures and reveal Nūr al-Dı̄n’s modus operandi when dealing with Muslim
adversaries. The seizure of Damascus was a long-standing Zankid goal,
which ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ failed to achieve. Damascus had a long tradi-
tion of local patriotism and resistance to foreign attempts of conquest.
The population of Damascus bitterly resisted the Fāt.imı̄ occupation in
the 970s and, in 1025, resolutely fought a Bedouin attempt to subject the
town. The ability of Damascus to fight for its independence was due to
its social structure, namely the existence of an indigenous class of nota-
bles (a ,yān) and town militia (ah.dāth), which were two long-established
elements of the local society. The notables provided leadership and the
ah.dāth — made up of the urban lower class and the rural population
of the Ghūt.a, the agricultural belt of orchards around the town — pro-
vided military power. Relying on its urban resources, Damascus resisted
52 Sibt b. al-Jawzı̄, Mir -āt al-zamān, vol. 8, pt. 2, pp. 305–306, 307, 321. Sibt
. .
b. al-Jawzı̄ claims that Nūr al-Dı̄n composed a book about jihād but perhaps what
he really meant was Ibn ,Asākir’s book about jihād. See p. 313.
254 Yaacov Lev
Zankid attempts at conquest. For example, in the winter of 534/1139,

when ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ besieged Damascus, the ah.dāth took the brunt
of the fighting and suffered heavy losses. Eventually, the help of the
Kingdom of Jerusalem was sought and the town had the financial re-
sources to enlist military assistance, while members of the ruling elite
gave the Franks hostages in order to secure the fulfillment of their obli-
gations. The Frankish assistance came at a price: following ,Imād al-Dı̄n
Zankı̄’s withdrawal, Damascus and Jerusalem besieged Bāniyās, which
was conquered and ceded to the Kingdom.53
,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s failure to seize Damascus did not deter his
son. Nūr al-Dı̄n was determined to conquer Damascus and he waged
a war of attrition against the town, which culminated in its surrender
in 549/1154. In 544/1149, Nūr al-Dı̄n’s drive against Damascus forced
its leaders once again to seek the help of the Kingdom of Jerusalem.
However, Nūr al-Dı̄n was not deterred. According to Ibn al-Qalānisı̄,
only heavy rains prevented his all-out attack on the town. In the same
year, Mu,in al-Dı̄n Unur, the de facto ruler of Damascus, died, and this,
in the long term, played into Nūr al-Dı̄n’s hands. Nūr al-Dı̄n’s relations
with Unur were complex: he married Unur’s daughter but failed to as-
sist Damascus against the armies of the Second Crusade (it must be
remembered, however, that the actual fighting around Damascus lasted
only four days, 24–28 July 1148). After 544/1149, Nūr al-Dı̄n’s policy
toward Damascus became more aggressive. Nevertheless Nūr al-Dı̄n’s
drive against Damascus was restrained and cautious. He was fully aware
that a full-scale attack on the town was perilous and that widespread
bloodshed would be counter-productive to the achievement of his aims.54
In 546/1151 and 548/1153, Nūr al-Dı̄n starved Damascus by cutting off
its grain supplies but, eventually, only direct military actions brought
about the surrender of the town in 549/1154.
Damascene resistance to the Zankid attempts of conquest, relying on
the assistance of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, highlights another aspect of
the twelfth-century Muslim Middle East: the integration of the Franks
into the political fabric of the region. When discussing jihād, it is only
too easy and tempting to ignore the broader political picture of the
Eastern Mediterranean. In contrast to Byzantium, which usually played
the role of an outside foreign force, intimidating both the Muslims and
the Franks, the Franks were part of the local political puzzle and military
cooperation with them had become acceptable.
Nūr al-Dı̄n’s campaigns against Damascus also highlight another as-
53 Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, Dhayl, pp. 271–272.

54 Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, Dhayl, pp. 306, 308–310; Abū Shāma, Kitāb al-rawd.atayn, vol.
1, p. 222.
pect of his expansionist policies directed against Muslim adversaries;

namely, a preference for diplomacy, combined with subversion aimed at
undermining the opponent. The beginnings of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s drive against
Damascus went back to Unur’s initiative against Zankid possessions in
the region. In the winter of 1146, immediately after ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s
death, Unur besieged Ba,labakk which was held by al-Zankı̄’s governor,
Najm al-Dı̄n Ayyūb, Saladin’s father. Najm al-Dı̄n Ayyūb surrendered
the town for money and iqt.ā , and moved to Damascus. The surrender of
Ba,labakk was not surprising, but Najm al-Dı̄n Ayyūb’s move to Dam-
ascus raises the question of his loyalty. Elisséeff describes Najm al-Dı̄n
Ayyūb as Nūr al-Dı̄n’s agent in Damascus; one might say he was a fifth
column. Najm al-Dı̄n Ayyūb’s brother Asad al-Dı̄n Shı̄rkūh was Nūr
al-Dı̄n’s leading emir. In 546/1151, both brothers were engaged in an
attempt to bring about an understanding between Nūr al-Dı̄n and the
rulers of Damascus, conducting the negotiations on Nūr al-Dı̄n’s behalf.
Undoubtedly, Najm al-Dı̄n Ayyūb’s sojourn in Damascus served Nūr
al-Dı̄n’s interests.55
There are some similarities between Nūr al-Dı̄n’s efforts to conquer
Damascus and his first invasion of Egypt. Nūr al-Dı̄n’s involvement in
the internal affairs of Fāt.imı̄ Egypt took place in 1164 after the arrival
of Shāwar, the deposed Fāt.imı̄ vizier, in Damascus. Shāwar promised to
share Egypt’s wealth with Nūr al-Dı̄n. Nūr al-Dı̄n’s second and third in-
vasions of Egypt were motivated by his disappointment with Shāwar and,
more significantly, by economic and strategic considerations: the wish
to tap the resources of Egypt and to prevent the Kingdom of Jerusalem
from gaining a foothold there. From Nūr al-Dı̄n’s point of view, the
conquest of Egypt brought him nothing because of the Ayyūbı̄ quest for
independence. The sources indicate that after 1171, Nūr al-Dı̄n was con-
sidering invading Egypt and dislodging the Ayyūbı̄s. He certainly was
aware of the difficulties involved in dispatching an army to Egypt and
how unpredictable the results could be. The sources are quite evasive
about Nūr al-Dı̄n’s preparations for invading Egypt and whether any
concrete steps were taken.
When fighting Muslim opponents, Nūr al-Dı̄n’s preferred method was
to use dissidents, or agents, to undermine the opponent from within.
This pattern is revealed by Nūr al-Dı̄n’s involvement, in 567–569/1171–
1173, in the affairs of Muslim Asia Minor. The events took a familiar
course: Nūr al-Dı̄n intervened on behalf of the Dānishmandı̄ ruler Dhū
al-Nūn, who had sought refuge with him following the conquest of his
territories by Qılıj Arsalān, the Seljukid sultan of Rūm. There was
55 Ibnal-Qalānisı̄, Dhayl, pp. 287–288, 298, 316, 327; Ibn al-Athı̄r, al-Kāmil, vol. 9,
p. 307; Elisséeff, Nūr al-Dı̄n, vol. 2, p. 402.
256 Yaacov Lev
continuous warfare between the Seljuks of Rūm and the Dānishmandı̄s.

Ibn al-Athı̄r, for example, refers to the 560/1164–1165 war between the
two states as fitna (meaning, in this context, harmful Muslim internecine
war), revealing his strong disapproval. Usually, when referring to intra-
Muslim warfare, Ibn al-Athı̄r remains non-judgmental and, in Nūr al-
Dı̄n’s case, his wars against fellow Muslims are presented as a precursor of
jihād. For instance, the conquest of Damascus by Nūr al-Dı̄n is depicted
as a prerequisite for waging an effective holy war against the Kingdom
of Jerusalem. In 1171, the confrontation between Nūr al-Dı̄n and Qılıj
Arsalān was avoided and, in 1172, Dhū al-Nūn was installed as governor
of Sivas. A new round of hostilities between the two states erupted
in 1173. Nūr al-Dı̄n went to assist Qılıj Arsalān’s uncle who sought
refuge at his court. He crossed the Taurus mountains and was ready to
engage Qılıj Arsalān. Claude Cahen explains Nūr al-Dı̄n’s involvement
in the affairs of the Muslim states in Anatolia as a result of the successful
consolidation of the conquest of Egypt. In fact, Nūr al-Dı̄n’s involvement
in Egypt did not hamper his freedom of action in the North. Once forces
had been dispatched to Egypt, they had to fend for themselves, and
Nūr al-Dı̄n was unable to reinforce them or to influence the course of
events in Egypt in any other way. One can even argue that Nūr al-Dı̄n’s
involvement in Anatolia was a reflection of his disappointment with the
results of the Egyptian campaign and being deprived of its fruits by
Saladin. In any case, as has been pointed out by Cahen, Nūr al-Dı̄n
had second thoughts about his new adventure which took him far away
from Syria, and negotiated a settlement with Qılıj Arsalān. Ibn al-Athı̄r
explains Nūr al-Dı̄n’s peace treaty with Qılıj Arsalān as motivated by
the desire to enlist his help in the holy war against Christendom.56
As demonstrated by the case of Mosul, intra-family relations did not
restrain Nūr al-Dı̄n’s quest for territorial expansion. The division of the
Zankid state between Aleppo and Mosul lasted until 566/1171, when
Nūr al-Dı̄n annexed Mosul to his territories. Ibn al-Athı̄r’s description
of the political situation in Zankid Mosul raises many questions. Sayf
al-Dı̄n al-Ghāzı̄ died in 544/1149 and was succeeded by his brother Qut.b
al-Dı̄n Mawdūd. Ibn al-Athı̄r claims that al-Ghāzı̄’s son was under Nūr
al-Dı̄n’s care (or supervision) and that he brought him up and married
him off to Mawdūd’s daughter. However, the son died young and this
family line died out.57 Ibn al-Athı̄r describes the relations between Nūr
al-Dı̄n and Mawdūd as competitive. For example, in 562/1167, upon
56 Ibn al-Athı̄r, al-Ta -rı̄kh al-bāhir, pp. 158–159; al-Kāmil, vol. 9, pp. 429–430,
466–467, vol. 10, pp. 21–22. For the complex relations between Nūr al-Dı̄n and the
Muslim rulers of Asia Minor, see Cahen, The formation of Turkey, pp. 27–28; idem,
Pre-Ottoman Turkey, pp. 96–106.
57 Ibn al-Athı̄r, al-Ta -rı̄kh al-bāhir, p. 92; al-Kāmil, vol. 9, p. 320.
the death of Qarā Arsalān b. Dawud b. Suqmān, the Artuqid ruler of

H. is.n Kayfā, Nūr al-Dı̄n secured the safe succession of rule to his son
and foiled Mawdūd’s attempt to seize H . is.n Kayfā and other territories
in Diyār al-Bakr. Nūr al-Dı̄n’s policy is explained as a response to Qarā
Arsalān’s plea invoking their friendship, which was based on fighting
the holy war together. The salient feature of Ibn al-Athı̄r’s description
of Mawdūd’s rule is that he was merely a nominal ruler of his state.
Mawdūd’s rise to power in Mosul was due to the cooperation between
the vizier Jamāl al-Dı̄n b. ,Alı̄ al-Isfahānı̄ and the emir Zayn al-Dı̄n ,Alı̄
Kücük. In 558/1163, Mawdūd arrested Jamāl al-Dı̄n, who died a year
later in prison. Ibn al-Athı̄r’s long obituary of Jamāl al-Dı̄n is a eulogy,
praising his personal qualities and administration. He is described as
the epitome of piety, charity, and as one who cared for the Holy Cities
of Arabia. One can only wonder whether the eulogy of Jamāl al-Dı̄n
implied criticism of Mawdūd; the vizier was more meritorious than the
ruler whom he served and who imprisoned him.58
In 563/1168, due to old age, Zayn al-Dı̄n ,Alı̄ Kücük, left the terri-
tories he controlled such as Shahrazūr, the Hakkāriyya region, including
al-,Imādiyya fort, Takrı̄t, Sinjār, and H . arrān to Mawdūd, keeping only
Irbil for himself. If indeed Zayn al-Dı̄n controlled all these territories,
one is left to wonder which territories were under Mawdūd’s rule. Ibn
al-Athı̄r seems to imply that Mawdūd’s authority extended only over
Mosul. Mawdūd died in 565/1170 and was succeeded by his son Sayf al-
Dı̄n al-Ghāzı̄ II. However, the real power was in the hands of the vizier,
the eunuch Fakhr al-Dı̄n ,Abd al-Ması̄h., who was of Christian origin and
kept his religion. He had ousted ,Imād al-Dı̄n II, another of Mawdūd’s
sons, who sought refuge with Nūr al-Dı̄n. Nūr al-Dı̄n’s campaign against
Mosul was assisted by the ruler of H . is.n al-Kayfā and crowned with suc-
cess. However, ,Imād al-Dı̄n II was not installed in Mosul. Instead he
was given Sanjār, and the regime that Nūr al-Dı̄n established in Mosul
resembled the one he had toppled: the eunuch Kumushtakı̄n was put in
charge of Mosul’s citadel, and he had absolute power over Sayf al-Dı̄n
al-Ghāzı̄ II.59
58 Ibn al-Athı̄r, al-Ta -rı̄kh al-bāhir, pp. 96–97; al-Kāmil, vol. 9, p. 438.
59 Ibn al-Athı̄r, al-Ta -rı̄kh al-bāhir, pp. 94, 118–119, 127–130, 135–136; al-Kāmil,
vol. 9, pp. 455–456, 461; Elisséeff, Nūr al-Dı̄n, vol. 2, pp. 657–662; Tabbaa, “The
mosque of Nūr al-Dı̄n,” pp. 340–343.
258 Yaacov Lev
5 Jihād and military history

5.1 Muslim-Frankish warfare
Ibn ,Asākir’s depiction of Nūr al-Dı̄n as a warrior of the holy war is
phrased in general terms without any specific references to a concrete
jihād policy. Whether Nūr al-Dı̄n indeed had such a policy is a matter
of interpretation. However, Nūr al-Dı̄n’s jihād policy, if it existed at
all, must be discussed within a broader framework of military history,
focusing on three topics: 1) the military realities of Muslim-Frankish
warfare; 2) Nūr al-Dı̄n’s military resources; and 3) his wars with the
Franks.
Nūr al-Dı̄n’s commitment or lack thereof to the holy war was not
only an ideological or political issue. It was also related to his ability
to wage war in general and against the Franks in particular. One must
not overlook the fact that Muslim armies encountered many difficulties
when fighting the Franks. Whatever the impact of jihād ideology on
Muslim rulers and society, in military terms, the effective execution of
jihād ideology was a daunting task. Muslim and Frankish armies of the
twelfth-century Middle East were constructed differently and fought dif-
ferently. The Frankish armies were characterized by a close cooperation
between infantry and cavalry and a charge delivered by heavy cavalry;
the Muslims, on the other hand, employed mounted archery and tried
to overwhelm the enemy with massive volleys of arrows.
Mutual adaptations whereby Muslims incorporated some heavy cav-
alry into their forces and Franks employed light mounted archers, did not
alter the basic patterns of warfare on either side. The issue of mutual
adaptation also involves the question of infantry. Infantry had tradition-
ally been integral part of medieval Muslim armies. Nevertheless, in the
Muslim armies of twelfth-century Syria, the infantry was relegated to an
inferior position within the overall military structure. The clear prefer-
ence was for an all-cavalry force. It was not a question of the absence of
infantry, but of its military role. In 532/1138, for example, ,Imād al-Dı̄n
Zankı̄ sent foot archers (nāshiba) and arbalests (nabbāla) to assist Aleppo
which had come under a short Byzantine siege.60 However, in contrast
to Frankish military practice, Muslim infantry was rarely employed in
coordination with cavalry on the battlefield. The Franks were famous
for close coordination of this kind during battles and when marching
through hostile territories. Among the Muslim states of the Eastern
Mediterranean, only the Fāt.imı̄s maintained large infantry forces but,
when facing the Franks, they failed to put a cohesive infantry-cavalry
60 Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, Dhayl, p. 265; France, “Crusading warfare,” pp. 49–66.
force on the battlefield.61 Both methods of fighting had their advantages

and limitations, but neither side enjoyed manifest military superiority.
Battles always involved hard fighting and victories were secured against
great odds.
The realities of the Muslim-Frankish wars are nicely illustrated by
two accounts of Ibn al-Qalānisı̄ and Ibn al-Athı̄r, which also reflect
the relative strength and weakness of both sides. In early summer of
543/1149, the Kingdom of Jerusalem launched attacks on the territory
(,amāl ) of Damascus from Tyre and Acre.62 Mu,in al-Dı̄n Unur, the
de facto ruler of Damascus, moved to H . awrān, trying to enlist the sup-
port of the Bedouins and Turkmen who came in great numbers. He sent
the Turkmen to raid the territories of the Kingdom of Jerusalem and,
in Muh.arram 544/May–June 1149, a truce between the Kingdom and
Unur was re-established. Simultaneously, or shortly after these events,
the Franks of Antioch invaded the territory of Aleppo and, at the begin-
ning of S.afar 544/June–July 1149, Unur sent a force to Nūr al-Dı̄n while
he remained in the H . awrān to ensure the supply of grain to Damascus,
for which the cooperation and goodwill of the Bedouins were essential.
When Nūr al-Dı̄n assembled his army, which consisted of his own
forces, Turkmen, and Unur’s contingent, he invaded the territory of An-
tioch. His army, which was an all-cavalry force of 6,000, found itself
fighting against a Frankish force of 1,000 infantry and 400 cavalry re-
ferred to as fāris .ta ,,āna. The term .ta ,,āna (literally meaning those who
pierce) used by Ibn al-Qalānisı̄ is rare, if not unique, and certainly means
a cavalry force fighting with lances. It can be understood as alluding to
a heavy Frankish cavalry force. The ensuing battle was marked by the
“famous charge of the infidels against the Muslims.” The cavalry charge
was aimed at gaining victory and constituted one of the Frankish adap-
tations to warfare in the Middle East. It was more frequently used in
the Latin East than in Europe. In this battle, the Muslims dispersed
and then encircled and defeated the Franks.63
This account clearly demonstrates that the Franks became known
for their cavalry charge, or shock tactics, but it had its limitations, es-
pecially when Muslims enjoyed great numerical superiority (as was the
case in this battle). The issue of Muslim numerical superiority is also
illustrated by the events of 565/1170. In that year the Artuqı̄ ruler of
Bı̄ra, Shihāb al-Dı̄n Ilyās, travelled with 200 cavalry (fāris) to join Nūr
61 For Frankish infantry, see Smail, Crusading warfare, pp. 115–120, 175–177; Ben-
nett, “The Crusaders’ ‘Fighting march’ ,” pp. 1–18. For Muslim infantry, see Lev,
“Infantry,” pp. 185–209.
62 Ibn al-Qalānisı̄ does not refer to the Crusader Kingdom by any particular name
and alludes to it as the Franks of Tyre, Acre and the other coastal towns.
63 Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, Dhayl, pp. 304–305; France, “The Crusades,” pp. 350–351.
260 Yaacov Lev
al-Dı̄n’s army. In the vicinity of Ba,labakk, they encountered a detach-

ment of 300 Frankish fāris and a fierce battle ensued, which is described
by Ibn al-Athı̄r as follows:
Both parties held their ground, especially the Muslims.

Would not 1,000 Muslim fāris withstand the charge of 300
Frankish fāris? Many were killed on both sides, especially
among the Franks who were defeated, killed, and captured.
Only the insignificant among the Franks escaped.64
The term fāris as applied to both the Artuqı̄ force and the Franks must
be understood as meaning heavy cavalry fighting with the lance. Ibn al-
Athı̄r’s exclamation “would not 1,000 Muslim fāris withstand the charge
of 300 Frankish fāris?” indicates that, in this case, Muslim numerical
superiority was narrow and the victory was barely won. How Shihāb
al-Dı̄n’s force grew to 1,000 cavalry remains unexplained. Perhaps the
Muslim cavalry was made up of both heavy cavalry and mounted archers.
Although Muslim historians provide no information as to whether
Muslim or Christian heavy cavalry employed the ‘couched lance’ tech-
nique, Muslim horsemen did fight with the lance. The best source of in-
formation about lance combat is Usāma b. Munqidh (1095–1188). How-
ever, his descriptions refer to duels between horsemen or clashes between
small cavalry detachments. We have no information about the size and
scope of heavy cavalry contingents fighting with the lance in the Muslim
armies of twelfth-century Syria.65 The cavalry charge was a powerful
tactical tool perfected by the Franks and, apparently, little used, if at
all, by the Muslims. The execution of the charge, however, was a most
demanding task and its effectiveness dependent on the circumstances
prevailing on the battlefield. The Muslim response to the cavalry charge
involved the opening of the ranks to allow the enemy to pass through.
The cavalry charge was not a decisive stratagem but neither was the
Muslim’s use of mounted archery. The Franks were capable of with-
standing repeated attacks by Muslim mounted archers by keeping their
ranks tight and by employing archers and, especially, crossbowmen.66
Upon reading Arabic sources, one gets the strong impression of a mili-
tary stalemate with no side enjoying overall military supremacy in the
twelfth century.
64 Ibn al-Athı̄r, al-Kāmil, vol. 9, pp. 454–455.
65 For the couched lance technique, see Nicolle, “The impact,” pp. 14–16. For
Usāma b. Munqidh’s descriptions, see Lev, “Infantry,” pp. 196–197; Bennett, “Why
chivalry?,” pp. 53–54.
66 For the delivery of the cavalry charge, see Bennett, “La Règle du Temple,” pp.
7–19. For its use in battles, see Marshall, “The use of the charge,” pp. 221–226;
Bennett, “The myth,” pp. 311–312.
5.2 Nūr al-Dı̄n’s military resources

The armies of Muslim rulers of twelfth century Syria were small. The
veracity of Ibn al-Qalānisı̄’s claim, that Nūr al-Dı̄n’s army was 30,000
strong in 546/1151, is highly doubtful.67 This information, which relies
on a military review held in that year, is unreliable and the data is
much inflated. The review aimed at impressing and intimidating the
rulers of Damascus, and Ibn al-Qalānisı̄ repeated information circulated
as part of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s propaganda. I would argue that the most reliable
and significant information about Nūr al-Dı̄n’s army refers to the force
dispatched in 564/1169 to Egypt. It consisted of 2,000 cavalry of Nūr
al-Dı̄n’s ,askar, and 5,000–6,000 Turkmen recruited among the Turkish
nomadic population of Syria. The term ,askar refers to Nūr al-Dı̄n’s
regular force maintained through the iqt.ā , system. The 1169 expedition
to Egypt was commanded by Shı̄rkūh, the iqt.ā , holder of H. ims., who also
brought his private regiment, the Asadiyya. Although the composition of
the Asadiyya corps remains obscure, it might have consisted of Turkish
military slaves as has been suggested by David Ayalon. In addition,
Nūr al-Dı̄n supplied pack animals, weapons, and 200,000 dı̄nār s. The
Turkmen were the largest segment of the force dispatched to Egypt, but
the ,askar and the Asadiyya made up its core. Militarily, the Turkmen
were mounted archers but the ,askar and Asadiyya were most probably
heavy cavalry fighting with the lance or, one should say, also with the
lance. It was an all-cavalry force, and the absence of infantry is not
surprising since it was impossible to move them across the desert from
Syria to Egypt.68
In 1169, Nūr al-Dı̄n was almost at the zenith of his power and we
can assume that the overall strength of his ,askar was at least 4,000-
5,000 troops. The forces available to Nūr al-Dı̄n, as the sultan of Syria,
were, however, larger than his ,askar. The 1169 campaign to Egypt
exemplifies certain fundamental aspects of the military organization of
Nūr al-Dı̄n’s state. Nūr al-Dı̄n’s ability to conduct a number of parallel
military campaigns during one summer was due to the splitting of his
,askar into several forces, each augmented by the forces of his allies,
vassals and Turkmen. Each force was made up of several elements, and
a great deal of travelling was required before each was assembled and
given an assignment.
Any attempt to broaden the discussion of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s overall mili-
tary resources, beyond a certain case study, is fraught with many difficul-
67 Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, Dhayl, p. 315, repeated by Abū Shāma, Kitāb al-rawdatayn, vol.
.
1, p. 267.
68 Ibn al-Athı̄r, al-Ta -rı̄kh al-bāhir, p. 139; Gibb, “The armies,” pp. 74, 81; Ayalon,
“Aspects of the Mamlūk phenomenon,” p. 17.

262 Yaacov Lev
ties. Economic data about twelfth-century Syria are difficult to obtain

and our knowledge of the rural and urban demography and the level
of economic activity in the region is fragmentary.69 Due to the lack of
concrete information, we are reduced to some speculations, or educated
guesses, about what could have been the military resources available to
Nūr al-Dı̄n. The key factor which determined Nūr al-Dı̄n’s military re-
sources was the size and geographical nature of his state. Nūr al-Dı̄n’s
state was composed of rural and urban territories ruled directly by him,
and territories given as iqt.ā , to emirs. Independent rulers also provided
military forces to Nūr al-Dı̄n. This was due to political considerations
or was a manifestation of political subordination.
The notion that the productivity of agricultural land is measured and
expressed by the number of troops it can support was deeply embedded
in twelfth-century administrative practice and is widely attested to by
the sources. For example, the Coptic chronicler al-Makı̄n b. al-,Amı̄d
(1205–1273) refers to the appointment (627/1230) of the T . awāshı̄ Shams
al-Dı̄n al-,Adālı̄ as the deputy of the Ayyūbı̄ sultan al-Kāmil of Egypt
in Syria and Mesopotamia. He reports that Shams al-Dı̄n was given a
new iqt.ā , that supported 100 cavalry, and the overall value of his iqt.ā ,
holdings in Egypt and the East was worth 350 cavalry.70 The extent of
Shams al-Dı̄n’s military obligations toward the sultan was expressed by
the iqt.ā ,s conferred on him. ,Izz al-Dı̄n b. Shaddād, in his geographical
history of Syria and the Jazı̄ra, quite frequently refers to income derived
from a certain place in terms of cavalry troops. For instance, he relates
the history of Tell Bāshir under the Franks and Nūr al-Dı̄n and concludes
by saying that in his own time the tax income derived from the place
was equal to the support of 200 cavalry. No figures are quoted, but we
should assume that his contemporary readers must have known what
the costs of maintaining one mounted soldier were.71 Within this broad
framework, two things can be stated with some confidence: the size of
Nūr al-Dı̄n’s ,askar was a function of the territories directly ruled by
him, and the number of Turkmen hired for summer campaigns was a
reflection of the cash income and reserves he had at his disposal. One
must not forget that military expenditures were only one budgetary item
69 For economic data, see Yusuf, Economic survey, pp. 109–183. However, demog-
raphy is not dealt with by Yusuf.
70 Al-Makı̄n, “La chronique des ayyoubides,” p. 139. The term Tawāshı̄ poses a
.
problem. In the Mamlūk period it denoted a eunuch. In the Ayyūbı̄ period, however,
when a certain .tawāshı̄ happened to be a eunuch, the sources take the trouble to state
this explicitly. In Saladin’s army, the T . awāshı̄ were a well armed and highly paid
cavalry troops. For the Mamlūk period, see Ayalon, “The eunuchs,” pp. 267–268.
For Saladin and the Ayyūbı̄ period, see Eddé, Saladin, pp. 499–500; Elbeheiry, Les
institutions, pp. 61–66; Lev, Saladin, pp. 143–144, 146.
71 Ibn Shaddād, Al-A,lāq al-khatı̄ra, p. 377.
.
in Nūr al-Dı̄n’s overall expenditures.

In this respect, a most illuminating account is provided by William
of Tyre. He lamented the fall of the County of Edessa, describing the
economic potential of the region, adding that it could sustain 500 knights.
Unintentionally, William of Tyre reminds us about the link between
economy and warfare. The economic cost of equipping and supporting
heavy cavalry was staggering, a fact of which William of Tyre was most
surely aware. He is very precise when describing the armament of cavalry
forces and makes a clear distinction between heavy and light cavalry. The
high cost of maintaining heavy cavalry is illustrated by Saladin’s military
reforms introduced in 1171 in Egypt after the fall of the Fāt.imı̄s. Saladin
partly destroyed, and mostly dispersed, the 50,000–70,000 strong black
infantry force of the fallen Fāt.imı̄ regime. Using the economic resources
of the collapsed Fāt.imı̄ state, he replaced the old Fāt.imı̄ army with
a new small all-cavalry force whose backbone was made up of heavy
cavalry. The maintenance of a small heavy cavalry force vastly exceeded
the costs of upkeep of a very large infantry force. The expenses involved
were not of the same magnitude — heavy cavalry was many times more
expensive. William of Tyre’s account and Saladin’s experience in Egypt
explain why the heavy cavalry forces in the Latin East and Nūr al-Dı̄n’s
,askar were so small and had to be supplemented by cheaper military
manpower such as infantry, Turcopoles (light cavalry in the service of
the Franks), and Arab and Turkish nomads.72
Unfortunately, our knowledge of the Turkmen, meaning the Turk-
ish Middle Eastern nomadic and semi-nomadic world, is as deficient as
that of the rural and urban societies. During the second half of the
eleventh century, Turkish nomadic tribes entered into the Muslim lands
of the Middle East as well as Byzantine Asia Minor. The life of the
urban, rural, and nomadic population of Syria was greatly affected by
this influx of Turkish nomads. The settlement of the Turkmen in Syria
is nicely reflected by Ibn Khallikān’s short biographical note of Yārūk
al-Turkumānı̄, who died in Muh.arram 564/October-September 1168. He
settled the Yārūkı̄ tribe south of Aleppo on the banks of a small wādı̄.
The settlement they established resembled a village and became popular
with the people of Aleppo.73 This case illustrated a peaceful integration
of the newcomers into the existing social matrix, but such migratory
movement had its disruptive potential and many, if not most, of the
Turkish nomads in the Middle East and Asia Minor found employment as
mercenaries whose services were enlisted for both intra-Muslim warfare
and, later during the twelfth century, the wars against the Franks. The
72 William of Tyre, vol. 2, pp. 331, 430–431; Lev, Saladin, pp. 143–146, 148–150.
73 Ibn Khallikān, Wafayāt al-a ,yān, vol. 6, pp. 117–118.
264 Yaacov Lev
sources contain no information about the relations between Bedouins,

the traditional Middle Eastern nomads, and the Turkmen. As has been
pointed out by Heidemann, Bedouins and Turkmen competed for land,
but whether the Turkmen indeed marginalized the Bedouins and brought
about their demise is a matter open for discussion.74 Regarding the mil-
itary role of the Bedouins, Latin sources offer two different testimonies.
William of Tyre stated that the Arabs — meaning Bedouins — fought
only with the lance. However, Joinville, who participated in St. Louis’
Crusade against Damietta in 1258, wrote that Bedouins fought as cav-
alry employing only the sword and had no armor.75 Whatever the case
may be, it seems that in the context of the warfare in twelfth-century
Syria, the Bedouins had less to offer than the Turkmen. Therefore, they
were enlisted less frequently for military campaigns and less frequently
referred to in the sources.
5.3 Nūr al-Dı̄n’s wars with the Franks

In twelfth-century Europe, avoiding direct confrontation with the enemy
was the rule. However, as has been pointed out by John France, one of
the modifications that took place in the European style of warfare in
the Latin East involved a greater readiness to enter into major battles
against the Muslims. Although most of the habitual summer warfare
between the Muslims and Franks in the Middle East involved raids and
skirmishes, major battles were fought, and it is difficult to ascertain
whether Muslim military leaders were reluctant to enter into battles
against the Franks. Ibn ,Asākir extolled Nūr al-Dı̄n for his valor in battle
— implying that he led the attacks against the enemy and covered his
men in retreat — and military prowess, especially archery. Whether Nūr
al-Dı̄n led his troops in attacks in person is beyond verification but, like
other leaders of that time, he participated in campaigns and suffered the
attendant difficulties and hazards alongside the troops.
Nūr al-Dı̄n’s personal involvement in warfare is best illustrated by
the events of 543–544/1148–1149. In 543/1148, Nūr al-Dı̄n fought the
Franks twice. With the help of forces from Mosul, he conquered a fort
in the vicinity of Aleppo and, in the same year, invaded the territory of
Antioch. This incursion went badly: Nūr al-Dı̄n was surprised by the
Franks and hastily retreated to Aleppo, abandoning the baggage train.
This was a typical incident characteristic of the unpredictable frontier
warfare. The ability of medieval armies to gather intelligence, to main-
74 Heidemann, “Arab nomads,” pp. 295–296. For a more nuanced view of the
integration of the Turkmen into the existing social matrix, see Hillenbrand, “The
career of Najm al-Din Il-Ghāzı̄,” pp. 264–266.
75 William of Tyre, vol. 2, p. 331; Joinville, Vie de Saint Louis, pp. 250–251.
tain internal communication, and to follow the enemy’s movement was

limited. Armies were often caught by surprise, and the Arabic sources
employ a standard expression ,ala h.ı̄n ghafla (at the time of unaware-
ness) to describe such an event. The captured baggage train was easily
replaced. In 544/1149, at the Battle of Inab (or Innib, west of Ma,arrat
al-Nu,mān), Nur al-Dı̄n defeated a Frankish force composed of cavalry
and infantry. Among the dead was also Raymond of Antioch. Nūr al-
Dı̄n took full advantage of his victory, and conquered several forts in
the area of Antioch. However, he made no attempt to besiege the town
itself.76 A victory over the Franks and especially the death of a ruler
could facilitate the conquest of forts and territory since the garrisons
were depleted. But it was largely a question of circumstances, and a
defeat on the battlefield did not necessarily lead to the loss of forts and
territory.
The changing fortunes of medieval warfare and the qualities of Nūr al-
Dı̄n’s military leadership are demonstrated by the Muslim-Frankish war-
fare during 557–559/1162–1164. In 557/1162, Nūr al-Dı̄n campaigned in
the area of H . ārim (Harenc), north-west of the Orontes, but the Franks
refrained from fighting him. In 558/1163, Nūr al-Dı̄n laid siege to H
. is.n al-
Akrād (Crak des Chevaliers), but was surprised by a Frankish-Byzantine
relief force. His camp at the Buqay,a was overrun and only due to the
self-sacrifice of a Kurdish soldier did he manage to flee to safety. Arabic
sources admit that it was a painful defeat with many being killed and
captured.
Nūr al-Dı̄n’s military recovery from the 558/1163 defeat was quick
and comprehensive. Using the resources of Damascus and Aleppo, he re-
plenished the his army’s equipment, including weapons, riding animals,
and tents. The financial costs involved were heavy, but the crucial ques-
tion was how find substitutes for the killed and captured soldiers. In
dealing with this problem, Nūr al-Dı̄n made effective use of the iqt.ā ,
system: he conferred the iqt.ā ,s of the fallen soldiers on their sons. In
this way, at least, the numerical strength of the army was fully restored.
In 1164, Nūr al-Dı̄n was able to dispatch the first expeditionary force to
Egypt, which included 2,000 of his own troops, Turkmen paid by Nūr
al-Dı̄n, and Shı̄rkūh’s private corps. The re-building of the army and
the Egyptian expedition did not exhaust Nūr al-Dı̄n’s military resources
and, in 1164, he was again campaigning in Syria.
The forces that participated in this campaign came from Mosul, H . is.n
Kayfā, and Mārdı̄n, and they converged on H . ārim. The Frankish relief
76 Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, Dhayl, pp. 300–301, 302, 304–305, 306. For Nūr al-Dı̄n’s con-
quests following the victory at Inab, see Elisséeff, Nūr al-Dı̄n, vol. 2, pp. 432–433,
434–435.
266 Yaacov Lev
force was also composed of different contingents and, in the ensuing

battle, Nūr al-Dı̄n’s right wing, composed of the force from Aleppo, col-
lapsed. Arabic sources indicate that it was a feigned retreat to separate
the cavalry from the infantry. The Frankish infantry became exposed
to an attack by Mosul troops and destroyed. The Frankish cavalry was
defeated too, and Nūr al-Dı̄n captured the rulers of Antioch and Tripoli,
the son of Joscelan of Edessa, and the commander of the Byzantine regi-
ment. The defeat of the Frankish army brought about the fall of H . ārim.
Nūr al-Dı̄n’s advisors suggested that he make the most of the victory by
besieging Antioch. He declined, however, by saying that the conquest
of the town would pose no problems, but the conquest of the citadel
was a different matter altogether. Furthermore, he was also concerned
by the possible political implications of a move against Antioch. The
town might turn for help to Byzantium or the Kingdom of Jerusalem.
Nūr al-Dı̄n’s answer reflected acute awareness of what was achievable
and what was not. Antioch was in the Byzantine sphere of influence
and the Byzantine policy toward the town was well known. These were
the political constraints on Nūr al-Dı̄n’s freedom of action against the
Franks, while his military resources were insufficient to besiege a major
town like Antioch and to fight a force dispatched to relieve the town.77
Modern discussion of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s so-called jihād tends to completely
ignore the political and military realities he faced.
The composition of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s army reflected the political structure
of his state, which can be described as a confederation bound together
by Nūr al-Dı̄n’s success and personality. This confederate nature is ex-
emplified by the 558/1163 defeat. Nūr al-Dı̄n had to commit his own
assets in order to rebuild the army, relying on the economy of Aleppo
and Damascus to provide the necessary resources. The same is true of
the Egyptian expedition. Although the command was given to Shı̄rkūh,
who also committed some of his resources, in terms of military man-
power and money, it was Nūr al-Dı̄n’s enterprize. Shı̄rkūh belonged to
Nūr al-Dı̄n’s inner circle, and the territories conferred upon him, iqt.ā ,s
and H . ims., were in Syria. He can be described as Nūr al-Dı̄n’s close po-
litical ally with a Syrian power base and, thus, a reasonable candidate
to lead the Egyptian adventure. None of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s Mesopotamian
allies could have been expected to contribute troops for the Egyptian
campaign. The victory at the Battle of H . ārim was, however, achieved
by Nūr al-Dı̄n’s Mesopotamian allies and their resources. To sum up,
Nūr al-Dı̄n had considerable resources to expand his state by fighting
77 Ibn al-,Adı̄m, Zubdat al-talab, vol. 2, pp. 489–490, 493–495; Ibn al-Athı̄r, al-
.
Kāmil, vol. 9, pp. 409, 415–416, 420–422; idem, al-Ta -rı̄kh al-bāhir, pp. 116–117, 122–
123; Abū Shāma, Kitāb al-rawd.atayn, vol. 1, pp. 397–398, 415–419. For Byzantium
and Antioch, see Lilie, Byzantium and the crusader states, pp. 182–183, 189–190.
Muslims and Franks alike, but at no stage did he have the resources to
wage an all-out war on the Franks. This argument can be taken further:
irrespective of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s understanding of, and commitment to, jihād,
he was unable to execute it on a grand scale.
The lack of adequate resources to carry out an all-out jihād did not
mean that jihād was not invoked on certain occasions. In 551/1156,
for example, the arrival of many armed pilgrims brought the Franks to
launch a raid on the pasture lands of Damascus on the Jawlān (Golan),
violating a truce between Nūr al-Dı̄n and the Kingdom of Jerusalem. Ibn
al-Qalānisı̄ provides a detailed account of the livestock that grazed at
the Shu,rā- spring: horses belonging to military and private individuals,
working animals of the fellahin, and cattle owned by cattle merchants
and sedentary Bedouins (al-,arab al-fallāh.ı̄n). The loss of the livestock
was a calamity that affected diverse segments of Muslim society, and
Nūr al-Dı̄n felt obliged to retaliate.78 Nūr al-Dı̄n dispatched an army
to Bāniyās, and the first battle was fought between his brother and a
Frankish force made up of 700 cavalry of the military orders, sergeants,
and an infantry unit which was on its way to the town. This force was
destroyed, and Ibn al-Qalānisı̄ writes that prisoners and severed heads
were displayed in Damascus. Prisoners sent to Nūr al-Dı̄n in Ba,labakk
were put to death. In this case, the execution of the prisoners of war
was retribution for the Frankish raid. It must be pointed out that Ibn
al-Qalānisı̄’s report conveys indignation at the violation of the truce
and rage at the loss of the livestock whose economic importance was
immense.79
In the winter of 552/1128, Nūr al-Dı̄n arrived in Damascus and the
military preparations for the siege on Bāniyās intensified. Siege engines
were brought from Damascus, and Bedouins and Turkmen were enlisted
for the impending campaign. A call for jihād was issued, including the
mobilization of the urban population. Several groups responded to the
call, among them mystics, jurists, and holders of religious posts (muta-
dayyin). Others are described as raiders (ghuzāt), warriors of the holy
war (mujāhidūn), the ah.dāth militia, and volunteers (mutat.awwi ,), in-
cluding young people and foreigners. The term ghuzāt seems to indicate
a rather permanent armed group associated with the holy war but the
distinction, if any, between the ghuzāt and mujāhidūn is unclear. Both
groups, in contrast to the mutat.awwi ,, appear to be semi-professional
troops that took part in wars with the Franks.
During the siege on Bāniyās, two battles against the Franks were
78 Ibn
al-Qalānisı̄, Dhayl, p. 337.
79 Ibnal-Qalānisı̄, Dhayl, p. 339. For mounted and foot sergeants in armies of the
Latin East, see Marshall, Warfare, pp. 49–50; France, Western warfare, pp. 65, 67.
268 Yaacov Lev
fought: Shı̄rkūh defeated a Frankish force of 100 fāris, while in the second
battle, Nūr al-Dı̄n himself was involved. The battle that Shı̄rkūh fought
took place in the vicinity of the H . ūnı̄n fort, and the Franks wrongly
assumed that he had a small force. In fact, his force numbered in the
thousands and included Bedouins and Turkmen. The Muslims were able
to surround the Franks and to defeat them. What the Franks had hoped
to achieve remains vague. Nūr al-Dı̄n fought a Frankish relief force in a
battle taking place somewhere between Tiberias and Bāniyās. According
to Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, the Franks split up their force into four groups, or
more likely, arranged it in four lines, and attacked the Muslims. Ibn al-
Qalānisı̄ makes the rather improbable claim that Nūr al-Dı̄n dismounted
to face their charge and overpowered them by a massive hail of arrows.
On the one hand, by dismounting he would have sent a powerful message
to his army that they must withstand the Frankish charge and that
fleeing was not an option. On the other hand, dismounting would have
gravely compromised his personal safety, and it is doubtful whether Nūr
al-Dı̄n indeed did so. Whatever actually took place at the battlefield,
Nūr al-Dı̄n won a great victory and captured rich spoils. The celebrations
in Damascus were spectacular. Severed heads and prisoners, including
sergeants and Turcopoles, were paraded through the town, and Nūr al-
Dı̄n was extolled as the defender of the Muslims. The town of Bāniyās
was conquered after the demolition of a tower by the sappers, but the
citadel held and Nūr al-Dı̄n discontinued the siege.80
There are many episodes of Muslim-Frankish warfare that can be
discussed, but the impression of a military stalemate persists. This
stalemate opened the door for various short and long-term political ar-
rangements. Truces were quite frequently concluded between the Mus-
lims and Franks. These aimed at achieving what was unachievable by
military means: to secure the vital interests of both sides. Although
frequently violated, truce agreements, like warfare, became a permanent
feature of Muslim-Frankish relations. However, in several cases, these
truce agreements stipulated payment of a tribute by the Muslims. In a
penetrating study, Heidemann managed to unravel the meaning of the
mysterious tax called al-fissa, which was collected in the first half of the
twelfth century in Damascus. It was a tribute paid, even by Nūr al-Dı̄n,
to the Kingdom of Jerusalem. For example, the 551/1156 one-year truce
signed between Nūr al-Dı̄n and the Kingdom stipulated a payment of
8,000 dı̄nārs of Tyre by Damascus.81 This was not an isolated event.
Fāt.imı̄ Egypt also paid tribute to the Kingdom of Jerusalem. A truce
80 The accounts of William of Tyre (vol. 2, pp. 255–264) and Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, Dhayl,
(pp. 341–342) of these events do not tally. For a more comprehensive description, see
Elisséeff, Nūr al-Dı̄n, vol. 2, pp. 504–512.
81 Heidemann, “Financing the tribute,” p. 336.
between the Fāt.imı̄s and the Kingdom that had existed in the 1150s
came to an end in 552/1157 and the Fāt.imı̄s ceased paying the annual
tribute of 33,000 dı̄nār s to Jerusalem.82 Having a wider economic base,
and being richer than the Frankish entities in the East, Muslim states
used their economic resources to compensate for what they had failed
to achieve by military means: to secure temporary peace along their
borders with the Franks.
The greatest Zankid achievement in fighting the Franks was the con-
quest of Edessa and bringing about the total collapse of the County of
Edessa. However, the territories of the county were divided between
several states, and the Zankids were only one of the beneficiaries. If we
go back to Nūr al-Dı̄n, it can be argued that his greatest achievement in
fighting the Franks was accomplished in Egypt and not in Syria. In the
short term, the conquest of Egypt brought him only disappointment and
frustration. Although important, the seizure of Mosul was only a partial
consolation. In economic terms, Mosul was incomparable to Egypt. In
the long term, however, only the combination of the resources of Egypt
and Syria brought Saladin and the Muslims a decisive victory over the
Franks. Nūr al-Dı̄n’s most impressive achievement was the creation of
a large, though short-lived, state in Syria. This was achieved largely
at the expense of other Muslims rulers, and not the Franks. Nonethe-
less, William of Tyre referred to ,Imād al-Dı̄n al-Zankı̄ and, especially,
Nūr al-Dı̄n as “our most powerful enemy” and “a mighty persecutor of
the Christian name and faith.”83 William of Tyre had every reason to
write this: Nūr al-Dı̄n defeated Frankish armies, captured high-ranking
Frankish leaders, and conquered territories held by the Franks. He was
an enemy to be reckoned with. One must not forget, however, that the
Franks coped successfully with Nūr al-Dı̄n’s expansion, both militarily
and politically.
6 Epigraphy and history

Inscriptions offer, without the intermediary of a historian, a glimpse into
the image that medieval rulers and people wished to propagate about
themselves. Thus, in many cases, the epigraphic evidence serves as an
important corrective to the literary sources. Irrespective of these consid-
erations, the inscriptions pertinent to Nūr al-Dı̄n’s reign are fascinating
and worth discussing. We can begin the examination of the epigraphic
record with the 1149 H . allāwiyya mosque/madrasa inscription in Aleppo.
The first titles that refer to Nūr al-Dı̄n are rather modest: “Our Lord the
82 Maqrı̄zı̄, Itti ,āz. al-h.unafā -, vol. 3, pp. 259, 266.
83 See William of Tyre, vol. 2, pp. 199, 208, 265, 394.
270 Yaacov Lev
Amı̄r Isfahlār, the Most Illustrious Great Master.” These are immedi-
ately followed by additional titles such as the “Knowledgeable, the Just
King, the Warrior of the Holy War (mujāhid ).” The title “al-Mujāhid”
is augmented by references to Nūr al-Dı̄n as victorious and as the pro-
tector of Muslim territories. Nūr al-Dı̄n’s relations with, or his position
vis-à-vis, the caliph, occupy an important place in the inscription which
describes him as a sincere friend and supporter of the caliph. This in-
scription clearly shows that Nūr al-Dı̄n’s image as a warrior of the holy
war was promoted from an early stage of his rule. However, it never
came to dominate his titulature. In fact, we can observe an internal
development within Nūr al-Dı̄n’s titulature. Some titles became more
important, while new ones were added. Elisséeff has noted, for example,
the abandonment of Persian titles and the progressive Arabisation of
Nūr al-Dı̄n’s titulature.84 The most important change within the inter-
nal hierarchy of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s titles was the positioning of the title “the
Just” in front of all other titles. From 551/1156, “the Just” immedi-
ately followed the title “the King.” This development brought about the
standardization of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s protocol: “al-Malik al-,Ādil Nūr al-Dı̄n”
(the Just King, the Light of Religion). The title “the Learned” lost its
forefront position and, from 554/1159, the title “the Ascetic (al-zāhid )”
had been added to Nūr al-Dı̄n’s titles. However, its appearance in the
epigraphic record is not systematic. When it appears, it always precedes
the title “the Warrior of the Holy War.” From 559/1164, through the
years 560/1165, 561/1166, 563/1168, 564/1169, and 567/1172, the title
“the Warrior of the Holy War” appears more or less systematically and
quite frequently as the third title immediately after “al-Malik al-,Ādil
Nūr al-Dı̄n.”85
Rather surprisingly, references in literary sources add a new per-
spective to the study of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s titles. According to Sibt. b. al-
Jawzı̄, Nūr al-Dı̄n was entitled as “al-Sult.ān al-Malik, the Just, the
Learned, the Ascetic, the Scrupulous Worshiper, the Warrior of the Holy
War, the Light of Religion and its Supporter, the Pillar and Sword of
the Religion” (al-sult.ān al-malik al-,ādil al-,āmil al-zāhid al-wari , al-
mujāhid al-murābit. Nūr al-Dı̄n wa-,uddatuhu wa-rukn al-dı̄n wa-sayfuhu
qası̄m al-dawla wa-,imāduhā ikhtiyār al-khilāfa wa-mu ,idduhā rad.iyyu
al-imāma wa-amı̄ruhā fakhr al-milla wa-mujı̄ruhā shams al-ma ,ālı̄ wa-
malikuhā sayyidu mulūki al-sharqi wa-’l-gharbi wa-sult.ānuhā muh.yi al-
,adl fı̄ al-ālamı̄n muns.if al-maz.lūmı̄n min al-z.ālimı̄n nās.ir dawlati amı̄r
al-mu -minı̄n). Other titles referred to Nūr al-Dı̄n’s justice and his re-
lations with the caliph. The main difference between Sibt. b. al-Jawzı̄’s
84 Elisséeff, “La titulature,” pp. 167–170.

85 Elisséeff, “La titulature,” nos. VI, VIII, XVI, XXII, XXVII.
account and the epigraphic record concerns the title sult.ān whose ap-
pearance on the inscriptions is not clearly ascertained. Sibt. b. al-Jawzı̄
writes that shortly before his death, Nūr al-Dı̄n ordered the preachers
to change the way he was addressed and they were ordered to use the
following protocol:
O God lead your humble servant toward Your mercy, [the one
who] yields [before] Your awe, [the one who] seeks refuge in
Your might, [the one who] strives in Your path (al-mujāhid fı̄
sabı̄lika), and fights the enemies of Your religion (al-murābit.
li-a ,dā -i dı̄nika), Abū al-Qāsim Mah.mūd b. Zankı̄ b. Aq Sun-
qur, the military assistant of the Commander of the Faith-
ful.86
These titles tally well with those that appear on the minbar (preacher’s
pulpit) that Nūr al-Dı̄n ordered to construct in 564/1169. The inscrip-
tion reads as follow:
Basmala. This work was ordered by the humble servant
[needy] of His mercy, thankful of His favors, striving in His
path (al-mujāhid fı̄ sabı̄lihi ), the warrior against the enemies
of His religion (al-murābit. li-a ,dā -i dı̄nihi ), the Just King,
Nūr al-Dı̄n, the Pillar of Islam and the Muslims, [the one
who] provides justice to the oppressed against the oppres-
sors, Abū al-Qāsim Mah.mūd b. Zankı̄ b. Aq Sunqur, the
military supporter of the Commander of the Faithful. Might
God glorify his [Nūr al-Dı̄n’s] victories, prolong his power,
rise his standards, and spread his banners and flags in the
two ends of the world. Might God make the supporters of his
dynasty mighty and humiliate those ungrateful of its favors.
Might God bring through his hand a conquest and grant him
a victory and soothe his eyes through Your mercy. O God of
the world. In the year 564.87
Ibn al-Athı̄r and ,Imād al-Dı̄n al-Isfahānı̄ claim that this minbar was in-
tended for Jerusalem. Saladin indeed brought the minbar to Jerusalem
from Aleppo after the conquest of the city in 1187. Saladin’s deed was,
however, politically motivated: his aim was to present himself as the
rightful successor of Nūr al-Dı̄n from whose heirs he wrested Syria. Mod-
ern historians of Nūr al-Dı̄n accept the claim that the minbar was desig-
nated for Jerusalem, although neither Jerusalem nor the Holy Land are
mentioned in the inscription. In 1169, Nūr al-Dı̄n launched the third
. b. al-Jawzı̄, Mir -āt al-zamān, vol. 8, pt. 1, p. 323.
86 Sibt
87 Van Berchem, CIA, Jérusalem (H . aram), p. 394.
272 Yaacov Lev
campaign for the conquest of Egypt, making one think that the minbar
was perhaps intended for Cairo, especially the Azhar mosque, which was
established by the Fāt.imı̄s and symbolized their rule in Egypt. Although
the third campaign brought about the fall of the Fāt.imı̄s, there was no
point in bringing the minbar to Cairo, since Nūr al-Dı̄n lost influence on
the course of the events in Egypt under Saladin’s rule.
The minbar description depicts a person imbued with a sense of des-
tiny to conquer and to rule. Modern historians of Nūr al-Dı̄n depict him
as imbued with a sense of mission: to unify Syria and/or to fight the
holy war. None of these characterizations is supported, or reflected, by
the epigraphic record which provides no clue as to Nūr al-Dı̄n’s political
goals. On the other hand, his inner religious world is clearly attested
to by the epigraphic record. Both Sibt. b. al-Jawzı̄’s account and the
minbar inscription depict a person who presents himself as succumbing
to God, asking for God’s mercy, and fighting God’s enemies. Nūr al-
Dı̄n forsook titles referring to sovereignty and glory in favor of an image
that embodied militant piety. It was a volatile mixture of piety and self-
righteousness which, one must admit, made a great impression on his
contemporaries, admirers and foes alike. This change of heart was part
of a pietistic phase that Nūr al-Dı̄n was undergoing in the last year of
his reign. In 569/1174, again according to Sibt. b. al-Jawzı̄, Nūr al-Dı̄n
distributed large amounts of charity, dedicated himself to prayer, and
established many pious endowments. In Sibt. b. al-Jawzı̄’s enthusiastic
description, Nūr al-Dı̄n clothed the orphans, married widows, enriched
the poor and provided justice to the oppressed. Nūr al-Dı̄n’s motives are
left unexplained but shortly before his death, he was preparing a military
campaign to dislodge Saladin from Egypt. Although the sources make
no direct link between the ruler’s piety and adherence to divine morality
and political or military successes, such a link might be suggested. Per-
haps Nūr al-Dı̄n’s manifested piety and the renouncement of pretentious
titles were aimed to prepare the proper moral background for the success
of the impending campaign. For example, it is said that in 1169, during
the siege on Damietta by the Byzantine navy and army of the Kingdom
of Jerusalem, Nūr al-Dı̄n fasted for twenty days, drinking only water.
He became weak, and those surrounding him became concerned about
his health. Eventually, the Prophet revealed himself through a dream to
a certain shaykh and announced the end of the siege.88
Nūr al-Dı̄n’s titles referring to him as the warrior of the holy war are
rich and complex. Some include explicit references to Nūr al-Dı̄n as fight-
ing against the religious enemies of Islam. Other titles allude to him as
vanquisher of the rebels (al-mutamarridūn) and the killer of the infidels
. b. al-Jawzı̄, Mir -āt al-zamān, vol. 8, pt. 1, pp. 299, 317.

88 Sibt
(al-kafara) and heretics (al-mulh.idūn). The question is, who were the
rebels and to whom al-mulh.idūn and al-kafara refer? Quite clearly, the
terms al-kafara and al-mushrikūn (polytheists) referred to the Chris-
tians. In literary sources, for example, these terms always mean the
Franks. The question is who, in the context of the twelfth-century Mus-
lim Middle East, were al-mutamarridūn and al-mulh.idūn? Sometimes,
the term ilh.ād is also applied to Christianity and Christians.89 However,
Nūr al-Dı̄n fought not only external enemies. On the internal front, he
also fought Shı̄,ı̄s in Aleppo and Ismā,ı̄lı̄s in Egypt. Ibn ,Asākir is very ex-
plicit about Nūr al-Dı̄n’s struggle against the Shı̄,ı̄s in Aleppo. He states
that Nūr al-Dı̄n established Sunnı̄ Islam in Aleppo by force (az.hara al-
sunna, qasara fı̄hā madhāhib ahl al-sunna), and manifested Sunnı̄ sym-
bols by introducing the Sunnı̄ formula of the call to prayer. He refers
to the former Shı̄,ı̄ formula as a reprehensible innovation (bid ,a) and to
the Shı̄,ı̄s as rāfid.a (heretics) and innovators. In the same breath, Ibn
,Asākir emphasizes the beneficial aspects of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s rule in Aleppo:
he abolished illegal taxes, prevented internal disorder (fitna), built and
endowed law colleges, and enforced justice. In contrast with the presen-
tation of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s policy in Aleppo, the conquest of Egypt and the
ending of the Fāt.imı̄ (Ismā,ı̄lı̄) rule are referred to only in political terms.
Ibn ,Asākir recounts the arrival of Shawār, the deposed Fāt.imı̄ vizier, to
Damascus, and Nūr al-Dı̄n’s military intervention in the internal affairs
of the Fāt.imı̄ state. Nūr al-Dı̄n’s involvement in Egypt confronted him
with the Kingdom of Jerusalem, but Ibn ,Asākir’s narrative is couched
in terms of Realpolitik devoid of any religious overtones. Nonetheless,
the positive aspects of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s conquest of Egypt are emphasized:
Sunnı̄ Islam was re-established, the Friday sermons were proclaimed in
the name of the ,Abbāsı̄s, and internal discord was brought to an end.90
Ibn ,Asākir’s account of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s policy in Aleppo is a summary
of complex events. In 543/1148-1149, in the face of serious opposition,
Nūr al-Dı̄n abolished the Shı̄,ı̄ call to prayer. He imposed his will by
exerting pressure on the Shı̄,ı̄ population but avoided bloodshed. The
H. allāwiyya inscription is contemporaneous with these events and it is
tempting to think that mutamarridūn and mulh.idūn here refer to the
Shı̄,ı̄s. The second conflict between Nūr al-Dı̄n and the Shı̄,ı̄s of Aleppo
erupted in 552/1157, and again Nūr al-Dı̄n had the upper hand.91 A
558/1163 inscription from Hama refers to Nūr al-Dı̄n as the vanquisher
of the mutamarridūn and the killer of infidels and polytheists. Except for
89 Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, Dhayl, pp. 338, 339, 340.
90 Elisséeff,“Un document contemporain,” pp. 137, 138. Although the term rāfid.a
was usually applied to Shı̄,ı̄s, its range of meanings was quite wide. For people referred
to as rāfid.a in thirteenth century Damascus, see Pouzet, Damas, pp. 252–255.
91 Khayat, “The Ši,ite rebellions,” pp. 176–195.
274 Yaacov Lev
the H. allāwiyya inscription from Aleppo, the term al-mulh.idūn does not
appear on of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s other inscriptions. Theoretically, the reference
to al-mutamarridūn in the 558/1163 inscription could have meant Shı̄,ı̄s,
but one wonders whether a reader of the inscription in Hama would
naturally make the connection to Nūr al-Dı̄n’s struggle against the Shı̄,ı̄s
in 543/1148–1149 and 552/1157 in Aleppo. Neither is it possible to link
the title “the Vanquisher of the Rebels” to Nūr al-Dı̄n’s struggle with the
Ismā,ı̄lı̄s of the Ansariyya mountains.92 The identity of the “rebels” and
“heretics” remains a mystery, unless we regard both terms as literary
expressions devoid of any specific meaning.
7 Jihād and twelfth-century Muslim

society
Although the Crusades cast a long shadow on the Muslim Eastern Medi-
terranean of the twelfth century, their impact on the Muslim society of
Syria was limited. Jihād did not transform society into a society geared
for war. Muslim society in Syria was, or remained, a civilian society
affected by the wars of the Crusades but not consumed or brutalized by
them. In the study of Muslim attitudes toward martyrdom during the
Crusades, Daniella Talmon-Heller writes as follow: “Self-sacrifice for the
cause of jihād may be located at the far end of a range of phenomena
typical of that age of religious devotion.”93 In line with Talmon-Heller’s
observation, I would argue that the call for jihād proclaimed after the
raid on Muslim livestock in the Bāniyās region was exceptional. It was
motivated by strong feelings of indignation that the Franks violated the
“rules of the game,” so to speak, and by the heavy long-term material
losses inflicted on the Muslims. In these circumstances, jihād became
the personal duty of each Muslim. The only comparable event was the
siege of Damascus by the armies of the Second Crusade. Whether moti-
vated by the spirit of jihād, driven by feelings of acute danger, or both,
the people of Damascus vigorously defended their town. Ibn al-Qalānisı̄
describes the Muslim forces fighting the Crusaders as being composed
of professional troops (ajnād, Atrāk ), criminals (quttāl, literally, mur-
derers), the ah.dāth militia, volunteers, and ghuzāt. In the fighting in
the Ghūt.a al-Fandalāwi, a Mālikı̄ jurist, and an ascetic named ,Abd
al-Rah.man al-H . alh.ūlı̄, died as martyrs. They became famous for their
quest of martyrdom, but Ibn al-Qalānisı̄ also emphasized Mu,in al-Dı̄n
92 Daftary, “The Ismā,ı̄lı̄s,” pp. 27–28.
93 Talmon-Heller, “Muslim martyrdom,” p. 137; Islamic piety in medieval Syria, pp.
131–136. For a discussion of martyrdom as a literary motif and social and military
reality in Saladin’s time, see Eddé, Saladin, pp. 216–222.
Unur’s courage and personal involvement in the fighting and the arrival
of reinforcements: Turkmen and foot archers from al-Biqa,, a valley be-
tween Damascus and Beirut. A reward for killing Franks was announced,
and the ah.dāth brought decapitated heads of the enemy to claim it.94
However, the Second Crusade, like Nūr al-Dı̄n’s raid on Bāniyās, were
exceptional events. Emotions were aroused and later abated, leaving no
permanent imprint on the Muslim collective consciousness.
In an article dealing with the presentation of the Franks in the
twelfth-thirteenth century Arabic historiography of the Crusades, Joseph
Drory argues that the Franks were perceived as merely a military foe
which posed no threat to Muslim culture and institutions. He writes:
“Their (i.e. the Franks) main crime was shattering the peace of civilian
society. Their possible spiritual menace was totally disregarded, and con-
sidered practically irrelevant.”95 The Arabic sources studied by Drory
are identical with those quoted in this paper, and I can only concur with
his conclusions. However, I would like to go a step beyond Drory’s ob-
servations and offer an explanation why the Franks were not perceived
by the Muslims as posing a threat to their religious and cultural identity.
During the twelfth century, the Muslim towns of Syria saw a great
surge in the establishment of educational institutions that came to dom-
inate the urban religious and institutional life well into the late Middle
Ages and the Ottoman period. This development gathered momentum
under Nūr al-Dı̄n’s rule and was associated with the spread of law col-
leges (madrasa pl. madāris). Law colleges were endowed institutions
that offered teaching positions in the field of law and Arabic as well as
other posts for religious functionaries such as leaders of prayer, preach-
ers, and Qur-ān reciters. A madrasa also had an administrative staff
and employed manual workers. Students and staff affiliated with these
institutions received salaries, stipends, and food rations. We owe our
knowledge of these institutional developments in Syria to fascinating
data collected and summarized by Elisséeff. Prior to Nūr al-Dı̄n’s rise
to power, in the territories he eventually ruled, there were only 16 law
colleges and one zāwiya (a lodge for mystics). During Nūr al-Dı̄n’s rule,
56 law colleges and five zāwiyas were established. Elisséeff’s data also
sheds light on the crucial question of the intra-madhhab orientation of
Nūr al-Dı̄n’s religious policy. Thirty-one law colleges were established
for the Shāfi,ı̄s and sixteen for H . anafı̄s. However, three law colleges were
established for the H . anbalı̄s, strongly represented in Damascus, and one
madrasa was set up for the Mālikı̄s, whose presence in Syria was insignif-
94 Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, Dhayl, pp. 298, 299. Ibn ,Asākir’s biography of al-Fandalāwı̄
has been published, translated into French, and discussed by Mouton, “Yūsuf al-
Fandalāwı̄,” pp. 63–75.
95 Drory, “Early Muslim reflections,” p. 98.
276 Yaacov Lev
icant.96 Nūr al-Dı̄n’s Sunnı̄ policy can be described as ecumenical with

strong Shāfi,ı̄ preferences. The long-term significance of the transforma-
tion of the urban scene of Syria is also noted by other scholars. Joan E.
Gilbert, for example, who has studied medieval Damascus, points out
that 121 religious-educational institutions, offering 400 positions, were
established in the town between 1076–1260.97
The twelfth century was a crucial period in the shaping of the late
medieval Islamic identity of Damascus, which began under Nūr al-Dı̄n’s
rule. During this century, Damascus acquired its “religious and ur-
ban resources,” to use an expression coined by Stefan Leder. Religious
learning, as embodied by the establishment of law colleges, constituted
a crucial ingredient in turning Damascus into a late medieval Islamic
metropolis.98 The madrasa fulfilled a twofold role in this process: it
was instrumental for the integration of the ,ulamā , in the fabric of the
state and enabled the rulers to acculturate into the local society. The
symbiotic relations between the rulers and ,ulamā - evolved during the
Zankı̄d-Ayyūbı̄ period. Michael Chamberlain, for example, has made
the following observation: “By founding madrasas, powerful households
could insert themselves into the cultural, political, and social life of the
city and turn existing practices and relationships to their benefit. This
was how charitable foundations became instruments of politics.” Be-
cause of its many uses, the madrasa became the preferable institution
patronized by rulers, military and civilian members of the elite, and
women of the ruling circles.99
These developments, driven by inner Islamic dynamics involving reli-

gious and institutional factors, took place irrespective of the wars of the
Crusades. Nūr al-Dı̄n played a major role as a sponsor of these devel-
opments. I would argue that Nūr al-Dı̄n’s so-called Sunnı̄ policy was a
tool to consolidate his rule, which was based on symbiotic relations with
the ,ulamā -. Nūr al-Dı̄n’s religious policies and their political overtones
were supplemented by social policies. These policies made Nūr al-Dı̄n
accepted, popular, and admired.
96 Elisséeff,
Nūr al-Dı̄n, vol. 3, p. 913.
97 Gilbert, “Institutionalization,” p. 118.
98 Leder, “Damaskus,” pp. 234–235, 238–241.
99 Chamberlain, Knowledge and social practice, p. 52. By 700/1300 there were
almost one hundred law colleges in Damascus. See Pouzet, “Les madrasa-s,” pp.
123–196.
8 Conclusions
Ibn al-Athı̄r’s discourse of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s jihād is highly misleading. His
depiction of Nūr al-Dı̄n as a warrior of jihād, especially in the history
of the Atābeks, is a literary invention with little relevance to the com-
plexities of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s reign. Ibn al-Qalānisı̄’s narrative depicting Nūr
al-Dı̄n as a sultan of Syria who expanded his state and had dynastic
ambitions, offers a more realistic perspective on Nūr al-Dı̄n’s rule. How-
ever, the most important summary of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s reign was written by
Ibn ,Asākir who referred to a whole range of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s policies which
were evidently appreciated by the ,ulamā - and popular with the public.
Although Nūr al-Dı̄n’s military successes against the Franks are referred
to as jihād, Ibn ,Asākir does not present Nūr al-Dı̄n as a ruler motivated
by jihād ideology. Furthermore, he puts Nūr al-Dı̄n’s wars against the
Franks within a broader context of his rule, emphasizing Nūr al-Dı̄n’s
social and religious policies. This description can be accepted as a fair
summary of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s reign and policies. Nonetheless, for the po-
litical dimension of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s rule and dynastic ambitions, one must
read Ibn al-Qalānisı̄.
Ibn ,Asākir’s depiction of Nūr al-Dı̄n tallies basically with the epi-
graphic evidence. Nūr al-Dı̄n’s self-image as reflected by the inscriptions
included the motif of jihād, but this did not dominate his titulature.
The jihād language in the inscriptions is far more explicit and evoca-
tive than Ibn ,Asākir’s references to Nūr al-Dı̄n’s jihād. Nevertheless,
both sources indicate that Nūr al-Dı̄n’s wars against the Franks neither
dominated his reign nor his public image. Through the inscriptions, he
presented himself as a just ruler, conscious of his obligation toward the
religion, and a warrior of the holy war. This self-image was completely
distorted by Ibn al-Athı̄r.
Nūr al-Dı̄n’s wars against the Franks, perceived by him and his con-
temporaries as jihād, played a small role in the territorial expansion of
Nūr al-Dı̄n’s state, most of which was achieved at the expense of other
Muslim rulers. Nūr al-Dı̄n’s achievements in fighting the Franks played
an important role in the internal legitimization of his rule. However,
dynastic ambitions and state building were not sustained only through
jihād. These were carried out through a program of religious and social
policies. The internal consolidation of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s rule owed more to
these than to jihād.
278 Yaacov Lev
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The Institute of Asian and African Studies

The Max Schloessinger Memorial Foundation

The jihād of sultan Nūr al-Dı̄n of Syria

THE HEBREW UNIVERSITY OF JERUSALEM

THE JIHĀD OF SULTAN NŪR AL-DĪN OF

2 Historians and historiography 233

3 The history of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s family 240

4 Nūr al-Dı̄n the sultan of Syria 251

5 Jihād and military history 258

6 Epigraphy and history 269

7 Jihād and twelfth-century Muslim

fought against evil temptations.2 A unique insight into Muslim thinking

2 For attempts to understand the Qur-ānic meanings of jihād without resorting

and Saladin commits himself to be her champion (qirn).5 This was,

5 Abū Shāma, Kitāb al-rawd.atayn, vol. 2, pp. 365, 366.

an unspecified number of volunteers who also joined the Muslim force,

is that military history must be brought to the fore. Although Elisséeff

2 Historians and historiography

580 AH), pp. 77, 79.

Ibn ,Asākir’s asceticism typified the socially-oriented pietism that

held by Nūr al-Dı̄n and Saladin in Damascus. Nevertheless, the impres-

Following Nūr al-Dı̄n’s consolidation of his rule [in Aleppo],

The account continues by enumerating the forts conquered by Nūr al-

2.2 Ibn al-Qalānisı̄ (d. 1160)

2.3 Ibn al-Athı̄r (1160–1233)

of Ibn al-Athı̄r’s brothers and their careers on Ibn al-Athı̄r’s writings.

24 Ibnal-Athı̄r, al-Ta -rı̄kh al-bāhir, pp. 2–3.

3 The history of Nūr al-Dı̄n’s family

26 Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, Dhayl, p. 219; Ibn al-Athı̄r, al-Kāmil, vol. 9, p. 208.

3.2 ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄ (1122–1146)

imprisoned Bahā- al-Dı̄n, captured Hama and demanded a ransom of

Crusades, pp. 282–287; Elisséeff, Nūr al-Dı̄n, vol. 2, pp. 377–381.

local territorial struggle between Muslims and Christians. Both aspects

42 Ibnal-Athı̄r, al-Ta -rı̄kh al-bāhir, p. 39; idem, al-Kāmil, vol. 8, p. 215.

of Edessa brought him divine absolution. Ibn al-Athı̄r’s allusion to jihād

idem, al-Ta -rı̄kh al-bāhir, pp. 59–61.

dry remark referring to ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s carving out a patrimony

4 Nūr al-Dı̄n the sultan of Syria

to Mosul by Zayn al-Dı̄n ,Alı̄ Küçük, ,Imād al-Dı̄n Zankı̄’s deputy in

4.2 Expansionism and state building

192–193; Sibt. b. al-Jawzı̄, Mir -āt al-zamān, vol. 8, pt. 2, p. 305.

And his kingdom spread. He conquered Mosul, Jazı̄ra, Diyār

Zankid attempts at conquest. For example, in the winter of 534/1139,

53 Ibn al-Qalānisı̄, Dhayl, pp. 271–272.

pect of his expansionist policies directed against Muslim adversaries;

continuous warfare between the Seljuks of Rūm and the Dānishmandı̄s.

the death of Qarā Arsalān b. Dawud b. Suqmān, the Artuqid ruler of

5 Jihād and military history

force on the battlefield.61 Both methods of fighting had their advantages

al-Dı̄n’s army. In the vicinity of Ba,labakk, they encountered a detach-

Both parties held their ground, especially the Muslims.

5.2 Nūr al-Dı̄n’s military resources

“Aspects of the Mamlūk phenomenon,” p. 17.

ties. Economic data about twelfth-century Syria are difficult to obtain

in Nūr al-Dı̄n’s overall expenditures.

sources contain no information about the relations between Bedouins,

5.3 Nūr al-Dı̄n’s wars with the Franks

tain internal communication, and to follow the enemy’s movement was

force was also composed of different contingents and, in the ensuing

6 Epigraphy and history

84 Elisséeff, “La titulature,” pp. 167–170.

. b. al-Jawzı̄, Mir -āt al-zamān, vol. 8, pt. 1, pp. 299, 317.