I encountered Abul Kasem here, in one of his series of pernicious articles about Islam. I was distressed to see that he has been widely quoted and lauded. I hope that this response to his "Who Authored the Qur'an?" will draw attention to Kasem's untrustworthy methodology, and encourage readers to be more sceptical when approaching primary sources for Islamic history.
Occasionally this article will refer to the Tradition. By this I mean nothing more than the sum of ḥadīth, sīra,
and maghāzī, which, along with the Qurʼān and a handful of less reliable non-Arabic texts, make up the primary sources for research into the life of Muḥammad. I remind the reader that I am not a Muslim, but a secular historian who uses Muslim texts in order to understand the past.
I apologise in advance for the mistakes or omissions that you will surely find; please let me know of them, and I will amend the article accordingly. In fact, any feedback (be polite!) would be appreciated.
***
An Analysis of Abul Kasem's "Who Authored the Qur'an?"
I'd like to begin with
some general observations. Kasem's article is very, very poor. He
does himself no favours by describing his past, which only serves to
emphasise how emotionally bound he is to his subject. Given how
little we know about sixth-century western Arabia, it takes
unreasonable confidence to declare anything “an absolute fact”.
The author shows no sensitivity for source criticism, relying heavily
on primary sources where none
should be taken as authoritative: a ḥadīth
rarely “unmistakably
shows” anything, given the Tradition's complicated history. Much of
the following essay deals with Kasem's abuse of the primary sources.
If
Kasem had read the Tradition in tandem with good modern historians,
he might have done better. Sadly, his secondary sources are outdated
and poorly selected. St. Clair-Tisdall does not feature in modern
historical works because, despite his obvious erudition, he was a
polemicist, not a historian. T.P. Hughes was a missionary, whose
Dictionary
is an uncritical distillation of the Tradition, helpful to beginners
but not to researchers. Nöldeke
is still respected, even referenced, by modern historians; but, given
the enormous advances in early-Islamic studies over the past century,
we should always cite scholars from more recent decades if possible.
Now,
on to the nitty-gritty. Kasem's essay is thoroughly bad, so a
point-by-point refutation would be inappropriate. I hope you will
tolerate the abysmally loose structure of this analysis.
***
It's true that the
earliest Muslim sources portray the pre-Islamic
Ḥijāz
as polytheistic, and it's reasonable to assume that Muḥammad
participated in his culture's religion. Despite the impression one
might get from this article, there is nothing new or especially
controversial about these ideas.
Sadly,
Kasem offers that al-Lāh
was a “moon god”, without providing a reference. I've seen this
claim made a few times, never with sufficient evidence, never by a
serious historian; as far as I know, it is completely without basis.
The crescent moon did not become an Islamic symbol until the Ottoman
period, and even then its significance was cultural rather than
mythological. The 'moon god' hypothesis has grown out of a proposed
'trinity' common to the Middle East, consisting of a lunar father, a
solar mother, and their child, Venus. If this triad existed in other
times and places, it is not evidenced in the sixth- and
seventh-century Ḥijāz;
it has no place in discussions about early Islam.
In
fact, al-Lāh
– the name itself means simply “God” – seems to have been a
sort of 'high' god: the most distant and powerful, and the least
anthropomorphic, of the Arab pantheon. Furthermore, as Kasem's second
quotation from Ibn al-Kalbī
suggests, the minor gods could intercede
on behalf of mortals, but they were at all times subordinate to
al-Lāh.
Gerard Hawting goes
so far as to suggest that the tribal gods were not 'true' gods –
this being an eighth-century interpretation of the extinct religion –
but rather angels, Christian icons, and so on, which the iconoclastic
Muḥammad
decried as a distraction from the true God. (I'm not sure how to
respond to the revelation that the name al-Lāh
existed in some poetry, except with a terse, Well, yeah:
He was kinda well known.)
Whatever
the nature of the pre-Islamic Meccan religion, there's no doubt that
Muḥammad's
alternative was
fully
monotheistic, as the Qurʼān,
and the behaviour of Muslims over the next few generations, bears
out.
That he co-opted divine epithets from other monotheistic communities
is not surprising. The examples given, al-raḥmān
(roughly, 'the Gracious') and al-rabb
('the
Lord'), are simply respectful names for the one God, no different in
principle from modern Christians' references to the Father, the Lord,
or the Almighty. The story about the Jews of al-Yamāma serves to
demonstrate the ignorance of the Meccans:
that is, the story is a useful polemic against Jāhiliyya,
and in no way suggests that al-raḥmān
is
other than the monotheistic God
– Kasem
has utterly misunderstood his sources.
***
If
Muḥammad
was
indeed
illiterate, this needn't have been a major obstacle to his composing
inspirational verse. I doubt that he was, because such claims bear
greater doctrinal than historical weight: that is, illiteracy would
help to distance him from earlier scriptures, making his achievements
appear miraculous. The Qurʼān
does not mention his illiteracy; the Tradition interprets the word
ummī
(7:157) as meaning 'illiterate', but this exegesis is unconvincing,
and other, more credible, interpretations have been offered. In any
case, Muḥammad
had early access to converts who adored his revelations, and who
apparently made an effort to learn and record the verses for
safe-keeping.
Kasem
recounts a ḥadīth
(Bukhārī
5.59.379) in which some Muslims, forgetting how part of a sūra
went, asked a friend and were reminded. He takes this as proof of
'manipulation'. I cannot see how he reached this conclusion. The
Tradition depicts the collection of materials into one definitive
Qurʼān, after Muḥammad's death, as a collective effort of many
people in the community. Although Muḥammad had scribes, their
precise role is uncertain: while they might have written some
revelations, especially after the hijra,
they certainly didn't try to collate all the verses within
Muḥammad's lifetime. That some Muslims engaged in the process
weren't “official” scribes (whatever that means in a medieval
oasis town) is wholly irrelevant, and needn't imply that the text was
substantially, or at all, altered.
***
Kasem
misunderstands the story about ʻAbdullāh
b. Saʻd b. Abī al-Sarḥ,
identified traditionally as the “scribe of revelation”. Our
sources probably recount the mischief caused by ʻAbdullāh
in order to attack his extended family, the Umayyad dynasty, by
proxy: the tale serves a polemical purpose. If we read as the sources
intend, ʻAbdullāh
guessed the ending to a verse when Muḥammad
paused; having so done, he arrogantly assumed that he was also
divinely inspired, or
that Muḥammad
was fraudulent, depending on the account. Reading between the lines,
we might conclude that ʻAbdullāh
had good reason for doubting Muḥammad's
abilities – there being no other apparent reason for his leaving –
but the story itself is about ʻAbdullāh's
mistaken pride. He publicly claims that he guided Muḥammad,
which is so clearly
a lie that the Islamic historians writing this story needn't say so –
and yet Muḥammad
offers him clemency and he returns to the community. Kasem omits this
ending, oddly enough.
This
is a story about errancy, arrogance and mercy, and it also takes a
subliminal swipe at the unpopular Umayyad aristocracy. Meanwhile the
(thematically similar) story about the anonymous Christian is
intended to prove the wrath of God attendant on those who deny the
truth of the Revelation. So angry is God with this liar that the
earth will not accept his tainted corpse. Since the man is not named,
and since the cartoonish fate of his corpse is patently fictitious, I
imagine that he never did exist: the story was fabricated for a
polemical purpose. Yet again, Kasem reads these narratives literally,
and uses his mistaken conclusions to prop up his spindly thesis. I
can't press this point enough: Kasem is a clumsy, tactless,
source-grubbing pamphleteer, and not
an historian.
***
Clearly
Muḥammad's
sacred verse dealt with issues and imagery similar to those found in
profane poetry. They might even have been stylistically similar, but
our sources are of lamentable scarcity and quality, so we can only
speculate. There were probably accusations that Muḥammad
was a poet: indeed, the Tradition insists that the Qurʼān
is not
poetry, directly in response to such critics. Kasem takes this to
mean that Muḥammad
was in
fact
plagiarising from other poets. Yet the snippets of poetic and
qurʼānic
text given don't look all that much alike. Even if they did, this
might suggest contamination of the poem by better-known qurʼānic
language during the seventh and eighth centuries: although the Qurʼān
was quickly written down for safe-keeping, poetry was retained orally
pretty much exclusively, and was susceptible to changes along with
the fashion of the day. A good historian would have considered this,
but Kasem doesn't even entertain the possibility.
I
can't find the story about Imrāʼ
al-Qays's daughter
in the original sources, because he (and St. Clair-Tisdall) have
declined to offer a reference, and I suspect that the last line of
the quotation – “the story is commonly told amongst the Arabs
until now” – means that it is not
part of the early Tradition, but merely an apocryphal story told by
modern-era Arabs. If the story is part of the Tradition, that still
doesn't mean that the daughter was right; merely that she believed
so. Remember that Imrāʼ
al-Qays had been dead for some time; that his poetry is likely to
have evolved in the intervening time; that it dealt with similar
issues to the Qurʼān's,
commenting on the human condition, forces natural and supernatural,
war and love; that the language of the Qurʼān
was as moving to the early Muslims as al-Qays's had been to their
parents; that we are often overly protective of our parents' memory.
She might well have been annoyed that Muḥammad's
art was flourishing, while her father's faded into obscurity; and if
she didn't believe Muḥammad's
supernatural claims, her anger at this fraudulent upstart, at she saw
him, must have been acute.
In
short, Kasem is indiscriminate in his use of sources to support a
thesis that he dearly wants to be true. He does not try to empathise
with or to 'understand' his sources; they are just evidentiary matter
for him to manipulate. He has found no support from serious
contemporary academics, but he is happy to use a poorly-sourced
polemic from an early-twentieth-century amateur in order to bolster
his preconception. He is uncritical and careless. But leaving aside
all
of
these trenchant objections, consider this: had Muḥammad
stolen from al-Qays – by all accounts, one of the best-known poets
in the region – people would have noticed. Kasem does not credit
this culture, which places such value on poetry and the prestige of
its artists, with the ability to recognise plagiarism.
***
The
idea that Zayd b.
ʻAmr
or Ḥassān
b. Thābit
wrote
parts of the Qurʼān
is pure supposition, and shouldn't be taken seriously. An influence
on Muḥammad
is possible, but its extent would be impossible to determine. The
stories about Zayd's journey to becoming a ḥanīf
were probably told to support the Muslim idea that theirs is the
primitive monotheism of Abraham, and have little value as history.
Zayd was not, as far as I can tell, a humanist, but since Kasem does
not expand on this assertion, I shan't linger on the point.
He
observes that Ḥassān
was useful as a propagandist and satirist, which seems fair enough;
but he fails to connect this with the Qurʼān at all, merely
assuming a connection. The quotation from Ṣaḥīḥ
Muslim,
031.6081, does not at all indicate that Ḥassān's poems “were
similar to certain Qur'anic verses”, and invokes the Holy Spirit
only insofar as talented people are supported by God when they serve
His cause: we've all heard artists and musicians claim that God
'helped' them, and this is no more profound a claim than that. Kasem
then asserts that the land which Ḥassān received from Abū Ṭalḥa's
estate was payment for having composed qurʼānic verses, and implies
that the slave Sīrīn was likewise. Again, there is no evidence
offered to bear this out: rather, Ḥassān was paid for doing his
job as a poet-propagandist. I'm not even sure what the quotation
involving ʻĀʼisha is meant to prove, other than that Ḥassān was
a highly esteemed member of the community. Let me emphasise this
point: there is no
evidence for his assertions about Ḥassān. At all. None.
As
for Labīd: that Muḥammad approved of some sentiments expressed by
a poet does not mean that he plagiarised from him, nor that the poet
had a major compositional influence. Kasem is scrabbling for evidence
to support a thesis, rather than letting the evidence lead him to a
conclusion.
***
Kasem
offers no compelling reason to believe that Jabr,
Ibn Qumta, Ubayy
b. Kaʻb,
ʻAbdullāh
b. Salām,
Mukhayriq and
Waraqa b. Nawfal, or Salmān
contributed a single word to the Qurʼān.
He simply states that they must
have
taught Muḥammad about other religions, and that he must
have taken
entire verses from them. Khadīja
is assumed to be an ideological conduit between her cousin and her
husband. This
is garbage. No serious historian doubts that Muḥammad
was a product of his environment – who isn't? – and it is very
likely that he learned about different religious traditions from
their practitioners; it is an altogether different claim that he
conspired with them, or plagiarised from them, to write a sacred text
synthesising their ideas. Failing
to offer supporting references for “brevity's sake” is highly
dubious, given this article's poor sourcing generally, and when Kasem
does quote the Qurʼān,
he never
explains
why it is that these segments must have been written by non-Muslims.
The
ideas and imagery to which he draws our attention were most likely
'in the air' at the time. The Ḥijāz
lay at the crossroads between Yemeni and Israeli Judaism, Ethiopic
and Byzantine Christianity, Syro-Mesopotamian Gnostic cults, and
Persian Mazdak- and Manichaeism. Kasem would have Muḥammad
consciously stealing imagery from other religions, whereas diffusion
is hardly
ever
conscious: most of us, in every generation, are completely ignorant
of where our beliefs come from, or how they reached us, or their
mutations over time. He might have written an entertaining article
about the origins of qurʼānic
imagery, consulting proper historians along the way instead of
conspiracy nuts and olde-worlde theologians; but what he has produced
is, unfortunately, a paranoid depiction of Muḥammad
as some master of deception, maintaining a secret network of scribes
and poets that, curiously, is never hinted at in the sources.
***
The
Tradition's account of Salmān's
life shouldn't be taken too seriously. Like Zayd's path to
enlightenment, Salmān's
serves a theological purpose. It is almost certainly not historical.
The same is true of Baḥīrā,
who might never have existed; Kasem's claims about him are
unadulterated speculation, and again there is no reference given. The
qurʼānic
verse he offers as a supporting quotation is patently ambiguous –
some amateurs believe that it refers to Ibn Qumta; I'm unaware of a
dominant scholarly interpretation –, but even if it did refer to
Baḥīrā,
that would not mean that the monk in
fact
gave Muḥammad
material with which to work; merely that this was alleged.
Stories
about Muḥammad's
early contact with Jews and Christians proliferated shortly after the
Conquests, for obvious reasons: non-Muslims liked to claim that
Muḥammad
stole ideas from, and perverted, their theologies, while Muslims
liked to claim that pre-Islamic 'holy men', such as Baḥīrā,
recognised Muḥammad's
future as a prophet, or that former non-Muslim monotheists were so
convinced of Muḥammad's
obvious prophethood that they joined him. Occasionally the same
stories were twisted for two or three conflicting polemical purposes,
with amusing results for historians.
Again,
there's no sign that Kasem comprehends his sources. He doesn't 'get'
that these narratives have context, and should be read critically for
polemical bias, or tell-tale tropes and themes; he doesn't understand
that they have didactic, legal, or theological significance. He rips
stories from their setting and glues them into some grotesque
pseudo-historical collage, for the sake of his Big Idea: that
Muḥammad
plagiarised the Qurʼān.
***
Kasem's
section on the Ṣābīans
is entirely worthless, because he relies on an outdated, unscholarly
'Dictionary of Islam', which does not take into account the
revolution in source criticism that has taken place in the past
century. My understanding is that the Tradition is rather confused
about the Ṣābīans'
identity, hinting at their being astrologers, polytheists, platonists
and baptists. The Ṣābīans
remain unverified, and a few conflicting theories are still
discussed. Perhaps Muḥammad
understood the word to mean something different from the Ṣābīans'
own usage. In any case, Kasem's certainty about Ṣābīan
practice is unfounded, and so his conclusions can be dismissed as
delusory.
There
is an amusing contrast, by the way, between something that Kasem
writes – “He regarded them [the Ṣābīans]
as the true believers of Allah” – and what's in the Dictionary he
likes to quote from: “Muhammad regarded them as believers in the
true God.” If you can see how far Kasem has twisted the original
meaning here, then just imagine how cynical he has been elsewhere.
Muḥammad did not
consider the Ṣābīans
“the true believers of Allah”; rather, he counted them amongst
the monotheists whose religions were imperfect but righteous –
exactly as they are portrayed in the qurʼānic
quotations which Kasem then gives us.
***
There
are still issues in Kasem's article which I have not discussed here,
and I don't intend to. His comments on ʻĀʼisha
are, as far as I can tell, totally irrelevant to his argument; those
on Ibn Umm Maktūm
ran the risk of being interesting and appropriate, but thankfully he
failed to provide any analysis, earning himself a 10/10 for lack of
critical insight. This is one of the shoddiest, nastiest, ugliest
pieces of non-scholarship it has been my misfortune to read, and I
urge you to dismiss Abul Kasem as a pissed-off crank who hasn't the
slightest idea how to read and write history.