Part Six
(This is a translation from the original Arabic, offered so that my grandchildren, and others of their generation, may understand something of their history— a history they were denied when they were uprooted without choice.)
In Repelling the First Inferiority Complex
Baghdad was founded in 762 CE and became the capital of the Arab Abbasid state. Within a few decades, it not only produced great minds of its own but also attracted others, until—within a century—it had become the capital of the world. Non-Arabs from the East entered the city, most notably Persians, who played a significant role in administering the state, drawing on their political experience from the Persian Empire that had been brought down by the Islamic conquest of Persia.
When al-Mu‘tasim ibn Harun inherited the caliphate in 833 CE after the death of al-Ma’mun, the Abbasid state entered a new era—one that laid the foundations for its collapse two centuries later. Unlike al-Ma’mun, al-Mu‘tasim was ignorant and lacked wisdom. Though he was courageous, courage alone is insufficient to govern a great empire; rule requires both, as the sage of poets, Abu al-Tayyib al-Mutanabbi, observed:
All courage in a man may suffice,
Yet none equals courage when joined with wisdom.
Perhaps al-Mu‘tasim feared for his authority and believed that by drawing outsiders close he could safeguard his rule. Thus he brought in the Turks and entrusted them with the army. Baghdad soon echoed with complaints of the abuses committed by Turkish soldiers, forcing al-Mu‘tasim to build Samarra and transfer the seat of the caliphate there.
One might ask why a distinction is made between the entry of the Persians and that of the Turks into the state. The answer lies in two points. First, the Persians—whether they embraced Islam willingly or under duress—were heirs to an ancient civilization. They understood belonging, administration, and civil conduct, all of which evolve through history. The Turks, by contrast, were at that time nomadic tribes who knew neither urban life nor civic identity, a difference with profound consequences for their ability to wield power. Second, the Persians entered the realm of administration and advisory roles to the caliph, making it possible to remove them when necessary. Thus, when Abu Ja‘far al-Mansur sensed a threat from Abu Muslim al-Khurasani, he ordered his execution. Later, Harun al-Rashid struck down the Barmakids in what became known as the Barmakid catastrophe. Al-Mu‘tasim’s fatal error—one I attribute to ignorance—was that he handed the army to the Turks. Once a people gain control of the army of an expansionist state that lives on revenues extracted from beyond its borders, they gain control of the state itself. And so it was.
History teaches us that cultural and intellectual renaissance can only occur under conditions of political stability and social and economic prosperity. It also teaches us that such a renaissance does not decline in direct proportion to the political decay of any state founded on expansion beyond its geographical borders. Thus, the beginnings of political collapse laid by al-Mu‘tasim did not diminish the intellectual momentum of Abbasid society. A civilized state continued to produce figures such as al-Kindi in the ninth century, al-Mutanabbi in the tenth, and Ibn al-Haytham in the eleventh—examples among many—even as the forces of political disintegration gnawed at it.
At that time, Europe lay in the slumber of backwardness and illiteracy. It consisted of feudal principalities locked in constant conflict. The Norman conquest of England in 1066 CE played a decisive role in fostering a sense of capacity for large-scale military action. Yet military power is no measure of civilization; Hulagu, in all his barbarism, proved that one needs neither culture nor refinement to ravage the earth as far as Damascus.
Moreover, the expansion of the Seljuk Turkish tribes—newly converted to Islam in the eleventh century—into Eastern Europe heightened European fears of Islam reaching the heart of Europe after it had already reached Spain.
Thus was born the idea of repelling the first inferiority complex. The Crusades followed, spanning from 1095, when the first Crusade against our region began, until 1291, when the last European Christian was expelled from the Levant.
European brazenness has accustomed us to explanations and justifications for every invasion it has carried out—from the annihilation of the indigenous peoples of the Americas and Australia to the invasion of Iraq across centuries and continents. At times it claims to bring Christianity, at others to rescue peoples from backwardness, and at still others to deliver democracy. In every case, it forgets that no one asked for this salvation, nor did it trouble itself to ask the subjugated peoples what they thought of its invasions or their causes. In this context, consider the description of the Crusades given by the Encyclopaedia Britannica:
“The Crusades were military expeditions begun by Western European Christians at the end of the 11th century in response to centuries of Muslim expansion. Their objectives were to halt the spread of Islam, regain control of the Holy Land in the eastern Mediterranean, conquer pagan areas, and recapture formerly Christian territories. Many participants regarded them as acts of penance and atonement for sin.”
If Europeans dare to solicit sympathy in the twentieth century with such a historically distorted narrative, what, then, must have been the mindset of the European masses in the eleventh century?
The eleventh century in Europe was marked by three major developments: a notable increase in population; the growth of Italian maritime trade; and the Gregorian reform movement within the Church, which granted the pope immense authority over European society—authority that endured until the sixteenth century and eclipsed that of kings. And since every rising power seeks greater dominance, the pope found a path to repel the first and greatest inferiority complex: that Europeans had received their religion from us. He did so by inciting people to “defend” the Christians of the East and preserve the Holy Land. Mere control of the Holy Land would confer legitimacy to represent—indeed, to lead—Christianity itself. Claiming that Rome was the See of Peter was insufficient; control of the birthplace of the faith was necessary, so that its origins among us could be forgotten once they were in their hands.
I will not recount the Crusades or the state that, at its height, stretched along the western coast of our region from Antioch to Ascalon and reached the outskirts of Damascus. Europeans have filled thousands of pages on this subject, some of which expose the falsehood of the claim to sacred purpose. Instead, I will address the true objective of the Crusader invasion of our region, for it bears directly on the aim of this inquiry: Who are we, and who are our enemies, so that we may know where we are headed.
The lessons drawn from the Crusader invasion may be summarized as follows:
- The claim that the Crusades aimed to confront an Islam threatening Europe is inaccurate. While Islam undoubtedly posed a challenge to Christianity in Europe, the invasion of our region was not motivated by that threat. The Crusades began at a time when the Islamic state in Baghdad lacked the capacity to project power to the eastern Mediterranean coast. The Seljuk state controlled parts of the Levant, and the Fatimids had ruled Jerusalem since 1098 CE before the Crusaders arrived, occupied it, and slaughtered its Muslim and Jewish inhabitants—women and children included. Had the Crusades truly aimed to confront Islam, the genuine and powerful Islamic state that threatened Europe was in Spain, and it would have been more logical to attack it rather than invade our shores. The Church’s objective was not the defense of Christianity, as claimed, but the occupation of the birthplace of the faith to alleviate an inferiority complex.
- The first clear evidence refuting the claim of protecting Eastern Christianity lies in the fate of the Orthodox Patriarch of Antioch, historically drawn from the Christians of the region. Throughout the existence of the Crusader state, he was deposed and replaced by a European Latin patriarch. If the goal was to protect Eastern Christianity, why remove its true representative—belonging to a community that had embraced and defended Christianity centuries before Europe?
- The gulf between European Christians and the Christians of our region is most clearly demonstrated by a historical fact following the fall of the Crusader state: European Christians departed, while Arab Christians remained, joined by Jews who returned after having been expelled under Crusader rule. Had there been genuine solidarity between European Christians and those of the East—whom they claimed to have come to protect—the latter would have left with them, as occurred with the Muslims of al-Andalus after the fall of Granada in 1492.
The truth to be drawn from the Crusader invasion and settlement is that it was driven by an attempt to compensate for an inferiority complex deeply rooted in the European psyche: the knowledge that Europeans had taken their religion from the son of our land, and sought to offset that fact by claiming ownership of his birthplace.
The last Crusaders withdrew, but this was not the end of anything. It soon gave rise to the second inferiority complex.
That is what I shall attempt to examine next…
To be continued…