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Peter Adamson
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Fedor Benevich
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This book is the first in a series of volumes devoted to the reception of the thought of Abū ʿAlī Ibn Sīnā (d. 428 AH, 1037 CE), usually known in English by his Latin name Avicenna, in the Islamic East during the 12–13th centuries CE. He was the central figure for thinkers of this time and place. Some engaged in summarizing, interpreting, and defending his teachings, while others attacked those same teachings. Quite a few did both. But no philosophically-minded author could ignore him. As a result, the task of documenting his reception is pretty close to charting the whole development of philosophy during the period. Our hope is that the book series will provide a resource for further work on this chapter in Islamic intellectual history, and cement the growing sense among scholars that this was a time of great philosophical achievement.

The corpus of writings produced in this period may usefully be compared to the “high scholastic” era in Latin Christendom. We are dealing with an enormous amount of material by authors of varying intellectual approach, who produced intricate and often technical arguments, presupposing familiarity with specialist vocabulary and with debates that ran across the generations. The main difference is that in the Islamic East these debates revolved around Avicenna, whereas in the later scholastic tradition it was of course Aristotle who set the terms of discussion. On the other hand, Avicenna was powerfully influential on the Latin tradition too, and on philosophy in the Western Islamic world or maghreb, which we have not attempted to include here. Indeed, when we combine the Latin reception, the Western Islamic reception, and the reception in the Islamic East which is (only partially) displayed in this book series, we can only conclude that Avicenna was by some distance the most seminal thinker of the medieval period in the parts of the world dominated by the Abrahamic religions.

One feature common to Latin scholastic philosophy and philosophy in the Islamic East is that it was often practiced within a theological context. In Latin Christendom this was very explicitly the case, as major philosophers were members of theology faculties at universities and even put the word “theology” in the titles of their works (Aquinas would be a famous example of both). In the Islamic world authors were not formally designated as “theologians” in this way, but it is clear that many or even most of the thinkers quoted within these pages were adherents of one or another theological tradition, such as Ashʿarite kalām or a given branch of Shiʿism. In a controversial recent paper a leading scholar of the field, Dimitri Gutas, revised his earlier assessment of post-Avicennan thought as a “golden age” of philosophy, to propose that we are actually dealing with something he calls “paraphilosophy.”1 His point is that such apparently “philosophical” argumentation as we find in our period is compromised by the wider motives of the authors. For Gutas, philosophy in the strict sense should be an “open-ended and rational inquiry into reality.” The post-Avicennan authors, by contrast, were constrained by religious or other doctrines which they assume to be true in advance, so that their inquiry was not really “open-ended.” Their work constitutes “paraphilosophy” because they are “doing what appears to be philosophy/science in order to divert attention from, subvert, and substitute for philosophy/science, and as a result avoid doing philosophy/science.”

There is a lot that could be said in response to this, beginning with the observation that by this standard, such figures of the aforementioned scholastic tradition as Aquinas, Scotus, and Ockham would not be philosophers either, leaving us with a vision of “medieval philosophy” in Latin Christendom that would at best include only a few arts masters like Siger of Brabant and John Buridan. (This seemingly conversation-ending bullet is one Gutas is ready to bite, though.) Also, as will be clear even from the brief historical overview presented later in this introduction, the thinkers of our period were approaching Avicenna, and philosophy, from a very diverse range of perspectives. It would clearly be painting with too broad a brush to say that all the figures quoted in this volume were “paraphilosophers,” even by Gutas’ criteria. Indeed, a single author may seem to be a philosopher in one book, and a paraphilosopher in another book. We will have more to say about this problem below. But this introduction is not the place to engage fully with Gutas’ article,2 if only because it is hard to imagine any response more thorough or convincing than the rest of the book and its sequels. If you can read what follows here and convince yourself that it is not philosophy, then we would be very surprised. At the very least, it will be clear that there is plenty of sophisticated argumentation going on in the Islamic East in the centuries after Avicenna, argumentation that should be of great interest to historians of philosophy. That seems a sufficient rationale for our undertaking.

Accordingly, this book series is aimed primarily at a philosophical readership. Our goal is to give readers access to philosophical conversations that took their starting point from Avicenna’s writings and ran over the next several centuries. Actually they ran still further than that. One could extend this project to look at authors of the mid- or later-14th century like ʿAḍud al-Dīn al-Ījī (d. 1355) or Saʿd al-Dīn al-Taftāzānī (d. 1390), or even further, pursuing the same themes we cover here into the school of Shiraz or the period of the Ottoman, Safavid, and Mughal empires. We have limited ourselves to a more practicable period of two centuries, roughly from the death of al-Ghazālī in 1111 to the time of Naṣīr al-Dīn al-Ṭūsī (d. 1274) and his students. The resulting cast of characters is large, and we make an attempt later in this introduction to provide readers with an overview that situates them historically. But it must be admitted that the issue that was of most concern to Gutas—the overall intellectual projects of the various authors covered here—is not foregrounded by our own approach. Nor will readers of these books learn much about the wider historical context in which these thinkers were working.

Instead, taking inspiration from sourcebooks on periods in ancient philosophy,3 we have arranged our material thematically, enabling the user to pursue a topic like mental existence, modality in logic, or the powers of the soul, from Avicenna forward to the turn of the 14th century. To get a picture of the philosophy of a single figure, one could of course read across the chapters to see what that figure has to say on a range of themes. This would be particularly worthwhile when it comes to authors who adopted especially distinctive and innovative positions, and who play a significant role in almost every chapter, like al-Suhrawardī, Abū al-Barakāt al-Baghdādī, Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī, and al-Ṭūsī. But even in these cases, our volumes are no substitute for monographs giving a synoptic portrait of individual thinkers, such as are now increasingly available in English.4

1 Method

That brings us to the question of how we went about producing this book. It offers translations of excerpts from at least half a hundred texts written over two centuries of philosophy. Given the enormous textual base, the selection of passages involved an uneasy marriage between comprehensiveness and feasibility. While we have attempted to provide a relatively complete picture of each theme in our time period, we would absolutely not claim to have provided an exhaustive account of the development of philosophy in the relevant period. This would be simply impossible, given our limited time and resources, and the current state of research. For one thing, we have not usually attempted to indicate which authors repeat the arguments and ideas of others. This was an accretive tradition, by which we mean that material from earlier authors is often taken up and reproduced by later ones, with or without citation of the source. For the most part we have contented ourselves with giving readers the earliest, clearest, or most frequently quoted version of a given argument or position, without citing the (often numerous) passages where the same material reappears. Occasionally we do give such references in notes, but the reader should be warned that the sheer size of our corpus means that no such list can be considered to be complete. On the other hand, where an author has an important signature doctrine (e.g. Fakhr al-Dīn on the univocity of existence) we usually quote several passages to give a full picture of this element of his thought.

One corollary of this strategy is that thinkers appear more frequently if they are more apt to innovate, or offer formulations or points that became a touchstone for subsequent authors. Authors like, say, Abū al-ʿAbbās al-Lawkarī, a student of Avicenna who was usually happy simply to quote or paraphrase the master, are thus quoted only rarely. By contrast another student of Avicenna named Bahmanyār, who will emerge in this book series as far more important than usually assumed, is quoted fairly often. Of course neither of them fall within our official timespan, but we have included material from authors between Avicenna and al-Ghazālī—including al-Ghazālī himself—insofar as this seemed helpful for understanding the debate in our period proper. We do the same with pre-Avicennan authors to contextualize Avicenna, even to the extent of quoting key texts from Aristotle and other Greek philosophers. Still, we have kept this to a bare minimum, so that our choice of texts from before the 12th century is even more selective. In some cases we have saved time by quoting doxographical passages, as where an author like Ibn al-Malāḥimī or al-Shahrastānī does us the favor of summing up the previous kalām discussion on a given topic. Of course these doxographies are to be approached with caution in terms of their accuracy and comprehensiveness, but they at least show how the state of play was seen in our period.

As with any sourcebook, this one could be accused of presenting material out of context. Indeed, a proponent of Gutas’ “paraphilosophy” thesis would probably say that while this book sure does make it look like there were thousands of pages of top-notch philosophy being written in our period, this is an illusion created by the lack of framing, as can be found for instance in the programmatic statements offered at the beginnings of works. To this our response would be, first, that this series is intended to complement other scholarship that does engage holistically with the corpora of individual authors. And second, that we are offering a different kind of context, which is usually more important for understanding the point of a given passage, by situating it within a chapter full of texts on the same issue. To understand, say, Ibn Kammūna’s views on the problem of universals, it is certainly not irrelevant to know about Ibn Kammūna’s whole enterprise as a systematic thinker. But it is absolutely crucial to know what people had been saying about universals up to his time. It is this sort of framing that our sourcebook does provide.

In terms of our translation style, we have striven to offer as readable as possible an English version of the passages, though it must be conceded that our authors do not make this an easy task. As already noted we are dealing for the most part with highly technical and intricate argumentation, driven forward by subtle distinctions and arguments with sub-arguments and sub-sub-arguments. Often, in a borrowing from kalām argument technique, we are given a range of options, with all but one eliminated to leave the right answer standing.5 Again, the parallel to scholastic Latin philosophy suggests itself. Another difficulty is the abundance of technical terminology. We have not been overly concerned to translate the same word always in the same way, since we believe that this would often distort the meaning. To take two notorious cases, dhāt is sometimes “object,” sometimes “essence,” sometimes “self”; the notorious word maʿnā appears as “meaning,” “entity,” and even “something.” In many cases we provide transliterated Arabic in round brackets to help reader keep track of important terms, to see where the same term is being translated in different ways, and so on.

Another challenge, maybe the biggest challenge we faced apart from the sheer quantity of material, was the variable extent to which that material has been edited. Hardly any text from our period exists in a critical edition that would live up to the standards applied by, say, editors of classical Greek literature. Usually the best one can hope for is a printed edition based on one manuscript, which mentions variants from other manuscripts in the notes. In many cases there is no edition, so we translate from a manuscript, where possible while consulting other manuscripts of the same text. But with the many dozens of works involved, obviously it would have been folly to pretend that we could get an adequate philological picture of the treatises from which we were translating. Far from having worked out a stemma codicum for each work, we are usually just citing from whichever manuscript(s) we could get access to. It is important to bear this in mind, since it means that every passage translated here is in some sense provisional. Proper philological investigation and an improved edition could change any of them and no doubt would change many of them. Thus, alongside deeper thematic studies building on what we offer here and comprehensive investigation of individual thinkers, there remains much to do on the philological front.

Finally on the question of method, it should be explained how we worked as a team. Thanks to the support of the DFG, which funded our work on this and the subsequent volumes, we were able to employ several postdoctoral researchers at Munich. For this volume the researcher was Fedor Benevich, who is now a lecturer at Edinburgh. Our procedure was that Benevich would work through the corpus of texts, select passages for translation, and produce draft English versions. These were then revised by Adamson, who also wrote the first draft of the thematic introduction to each chapter, which was in turn revised by Benevich. This twofold structure within each chapter should allow users to access the material at different levels. Probably every reader should start with the thematic introduction to get a general sense of the debate on each topic. The passages are arranged in rough chronological order, so one can then read the chapter straight through to see how things developed from Avicenna onward, or taking guidance from the thematic introduction, go straight to individual arguments or authors of particular interest. We also hope that the books can be used in teaching, and have already had some experience using draft chapters for this purpose. On this basis, our recommendation would be for instructors to make a selection of passages from a given chapter, and have the students read just the thematic introduction and the selected passages. This is because of the size of the chapters, and the density of the material, which rewards close reading. By contrast researchers are of course encouraged to look through all the material, ideally alongside the original Arabic, and to bear in mind that there is going to be further material of relevance that was not included, for the reasons already mentioned. It should also be borne in mind that a given passage may be relevant to more than one of our themes.6 To save space we have not duplicated passages by including them in more than one chapter, but we do sometimes give cross-references to other chapters, and would encourage the reader to bear in mind that each chapter will typically be complemented by others. The introductions to each chapter will hopefully make the links between them clear.

2 Historical Overview

The quotations that make up the chapters are drawn from more than forty post-Avicennan philosophers who lived in the Islamic East between the late eleventh and early thirteenth century CE.7 The “Islamic East” takes in the heartlands of the Muslim world at the time, stretching roughly from Syria in the West to modern-day Afghanistan in the East. Vast though this territory is, it does exclude the maghreb. This means that we will in these books not be covering Ibn Rushd (Averroes, d. 1198) and other thinkers who worked in Andalusia, or for that matter figures who worked in Cairo, such as the great Jewish thinker Maimonides. Certainly Avicenna was influential in this region as well, as already noted above, but it forms a separate tradition to some extent, and it would have been unfeasible to include these philosophers in our coverage. With regard to the thinkers we are covering, it should be borne in mind that they often travelled widely in the Eastern Islamic realms. Let’s take two prominent examples, al-Suhrawardī and Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī. As his name indicates, the former was born in the Persian city of Suhraward. In between he journeyed first to Marāgha, later a renowned centre of scientific and philosophical activity in the time of al-Ṭūsī, and already in al-Suhrawardī’s day a place where he could be initiated into philosophy by his master Majd al-Dīn al-Jīlī. He then travelled to Anatolia, before winding up in Damascus and Aleppo where he was executed on the orders of Saladin. As for Fakhr al-Dīn, his name too connotes his place of birth: al-Rāzī means that he came from the Persian city of Rayy. His own travels took him to Nishapur and then Marāgha, where he likewise studied with al-Jīlī. Where al-Suhrawardī went West, Fakhr al-Dīn ventured east, moving around central Asia as he became a client of rival political dynasties, the Khwārazm-Shāhs and the Ghūrids. A work called Debates (Munāẓarāṭ) records his argumentative encounters with scholars in Transoxania. He finally died in Herat after rejoining the Khwārazm-Shāhs. As even this sketch shows, student-teacher relationships and patronage were key factors in the careers of our authors, as they had been for Avicenna himself.

So much for the geography; now let us turn to chronology. The history of metaphysics and theology in the Islamic East in this period can be divided into three phases, which we describe as periods of formation, culmination, and refinement. But we begin earlier than that, with a look at the background to Avicenna himself.

3 Prehistory

In the middle of the eleventh century, the two predominant philosophical traditions in the Islamic world were falsafa and kalām. Falsafa was the philosophical tradition that takes its origins from ancient and late-Ancient Greek philosophy, primarily Aristotle and Neoplatonism. It began in the ninth century CE as a by-product of the Graeco-Arabic translation movement. The most important early falsafa-philosophers were Abū Yaʿqūb ibn Isḥāq al-Kindī (d. 873), Abū Bakr al-Rāzī (d. 925), Yaḥyā ibn ʿAdī (d. 974), and Abū Naṣr al-Fārābī (d. 950). Although all these authors were known in the post-Avicennan tradition, the philosophers of this later period were unanimously agreed that the philosophical tradition of falsafa culminated with the unique synthesis of Aristotelianism, Neoplatonism, and original thought in the works of Avicenna. Thus the reader will find only sporadically the names of other falsafa-philosophers in the pages of this book.

We consider kalām as another philosophical tradition of the Islamic world, but one very different from falsafa in its nature and history. Unlike falsafa, kalām barely has any historical relation to ancient and late ancient Greek philosophy. Its origins and early development are rather obscure due to the lack of sources, but it is certain that by the beginning of the eleventh century, kalām had developed into a fully formed philosophical tradition with its own methods, terminology, and standard issues such as proofs for the existence of God, free will and the conditions of moral responsibility, and the composition of physical objects.8 The two predominant traditions of kalām relevant for post-Avicennan philosophical discourse are the Muʿtazilism and Ashʿarism.

The Muʿtazilites who are mentioned in post-Avicennan sources can be roughly divided into two periods: classical and “reformed” Muʿtazilism. The most influential classical Muʿtazilite authors, the members of two competing schools of Basra and Baghdad, were Abū ʿAlī al-Jubbāʾī (d. 915/6), his son Abū Hāshim al- Jubbāʾī (d. 933), Abū al-Qāsim al-Balkhī al-Kaʿbī (d. 931), Abū ʿAbdallah al-Baṣrī (d. 980), and ʿAbd al-Jabbār (d. 1024). Post-Avicennan sources seem to agree that the important turn in the Muʿtazilism came in the eleventh century with Abū al-Ḥusayn al-Baṣrī (d. 1044). Abū al-Ḥusayn is credited with philosophical views that would differ from the traditional Muʿtazilite approaches, on such questions as the nature of non-existence, the theory of states (aḥwāl), God’s knowledge, and theory of action. Traditionally opposed to Muʿtazilism were the Ashʿarites, that is, the followers of Abū al-Hasan al-Ashʿarī (d. 936). The most prominent representatives of the classical Ashʿarism were Abū Bakr al-Bāqillānī (d. 1013), Abū Isḥāq al-Isfarāʾinī (d. 1027), Abū al-Maʿālī al-Juwaynī (d. 1085), and Abū al-Qāsim al-Anṣārī (d. 1118). Ashʿarism plays crucial role in the formation of post-Avicennan philosophy, with a few philosophers describing themselves as the proponents of this school of kalām.

4 Formation

The opposition between falsafa and kalām defines the character of philosophy in the formative period of post-Avicennan philosophy in the Islamic East.9 The authors who write in this period can be divided into those who are mostly faithful to falsafa, that is, to the teachings of Avicenna, and those who adhere to the positions of kalām and attack Avicennan philosophy on this basis.

The philosophers who most appropriately may be called Avicennans are the representatives of Avicenna’s own school. The first and most influential among them is Bahmanyār ibn al-Marzubān (d. 1044), a direct student of Avicenna.10 Bahmanyār’s most widely read treatise is al-Taḥṣīl (The Attainment), a reorganized and comprehensive epitome of Avicenna’s teachings. Al-Taḥṣīl provides us with an overview of what has been recognized as Avicennism in post-Avicennan philosophy. Another of his treatises from which we quote is Fī mawḍūʿ ʿilm mā baʿd al-ṭabīʿa (On the Subject-Matter of Metaphysics), which again demonstrates Bahmanyār’s close adherence to Avicenna’s philosophy.

Alongside Bahmanyār, the next important philosopher usually connected with Avicenna’s school is ʿUmar al-Khayyām (d. 1123/24). Although alKhayyām is mostly known in contemporary scholarship as a poet and mathematician, he has written several short treatises in metaphysics and philosophy of religion, such as Risāla fī al-wujūd (Epistle on Existence), al-Jawāb ʿan thalāth masāʾil (Response to Three Questions), Risālat al-ḍiyāʾ al-ʿaqlī (Epistle of Intellectual Radiance), and Kawn wa-taklīf (Generation and Obligation). Al-Ḫayyām discusses in them various questions, such as distinction between essence and existence, God’s essence, the nature of evil, and the nature of religious obligation in the determinist world. Al-Khayyām consistently defends Avicennan doctrine, albeit with further developments, as in the case of the conceptual distinction between essence and existence. Among the treatises listed above, al-Khayyām’s Risāla fī al-wujūd stands out as an attempt to address the metaphysical views of Muʿtazilite kalām from the standpoint of Avicenna’s philosophy.

The final representatives of Avicenna’s school live in the first half of the twelfth century. They are ʿUmar ibn Sahlān al-Sāwī (d. ca. 1145) and Sharaf al-Zamān al-Īlāqī (d. 1141). Of these two, the latter seems to be rather a minor figure, possibly due to our lack of sources, or because of his execution following the sultan Sanjar’s defeat at the battle of Qaṭwān. The only work by al-Īlāqī quoted in this volume is his brief response to Taj al-Dīn al-Shahrastānī (d. 1153) on the nature of God’s knowledge, in which al-Īlāqī seems to express even more radical denial of God’s knowledge than Avicenna would be willing to do himself. Like al-Īlāqī, al-Sāwī also engaged in philosophical correspondence with al- Shahrastānī, but unlike al-Īlāqī, al-Sāwī seems to have been a far more influential figure. This can be seen, for instance, from the mentions of al-Sāwī in al-Suhrawardī’s treatises. Among al-Sāwī’s own treatises, al-Baṣāʾir al-Naṣīriyya (Insights for Naṣīr al-Dīn) bears close similarity in method and in content to Bahmanyār’s al-Taḥṣīl and can be used as a helpful overview of Avicennism as it was seen in the twelfth century. Still more important, arguably, are al-Sāwī’s shorter treatises, which were designed as responses to two critics of Avicenna of his time, Abū al-Barakāt al-Baghdādī (d. ca. 1165) and the aforementioned al-Shahrastānī. One of these treatises is Nahj al-taqdīs (The Way to Sanctification), in which al-Sāwī attempts to support Avicenna’s denial of God’s knowledge of particulars as such. (He may be the last person in the post-Avicennan tradition to do this.) Another is al-Sāwī’s response to al- Shahrastānī on the nature of God’s essence, which was given the title of Muṣāraʿat al-Muṣāraʾa (The Wrestling Match with the Wrestling Match) by a copyist, due to the similarity of al-Šahrastānī’s argumentation in this epistolary exchange with al- Shahrastānī’s treatise al- Muṣāraʾat al-falāsifa (The Wrestling Match with the Philosophers).

Bahmanyār, al-Khayyām, al-Sāwī, and al-Īlāqī are the four main representatives of purely Avicennan falsafa in the formative period of post-Avicenna philosophy. Probably even more important for the formation of postAvicennan philosophy, though, are their opponents, the scholars of kalām who extensively engaged with Avicenna’s philosophy, criticized it, and used it in the development of their own thought. The most famous among them is, of course, Abū Ḥāmid al-Ghazālī (d. 1111), who was allegedly responsible for the perishing of philosophy in the world of Islam, according to traditional orientalist narratives. Although this account has been widely dismissed, the importance of al-Ghazālī for the later generations is not subject to doubt. Al-Ghazālī’s famous treatise Tahāfut al-falāsifa (The Incoherence of the Falsafa-Philosophers) helped to set the questions that would typically be contested between partisans of kalām and proponents of falsafa, such as God’s essence and God’s knowledge of particulars. Also important is al-Ghazālī’s treatise Iqtiṣād al-iʿtiqād (Moderation in Belief), which will be used in this volume as a rich source of the traditional Ashʿarite views on various philosophical questions.

Al-Ghazālī’s critique of Avicenna’s philosophy from a kalām perspective found several followers. One of them is Ibn Ghaylān al-Balkhī (d. ca. 1194), the author of the treatise Ḥudūth al-ʿālam (The Temporal Origination of the World). For the purposes of this volume, this treatise will be important as an expression of Ibn Ghaylān’s metaphysical views on essence and existence, God’s essence, and universals, in which he appears to be close to al-Shahrastānī. Another staunch opponent of everything Avicennan is Sharaf al-Dīn al-Masʿūdī (d. ca. 1194). Al-Masʿūdī might have been the first in the long tradition of commentators on Avicenna’s treatise al-Ishārāt wa-al-tanbīhāt (Pointers and Reminders), with his al-Mabāḥith wa-al-shukūk ʿalā kitāb al-Ishārāt wa-l-tanbīhāt (Investigations and Doubts on Pointers and Reminders).11 However, unlike many later commentaries on Ishārāt, al-Masʿūdī’s aim was nothing like a defence or even an elucidation of Avicenna’s philosophy. Rather, his goal was to refute Avicenna’s arguments, mostly from a proper Ghazālian Ashʿarite perspective.

Avicenna’s philosophy has come under fire not only from the position of the Ashʿarite kalām, but also the “reformed” Muʿtazilites. Here, the most important source is Rukn al-Dīn ibn Muḥammad al-Malāḥimī al-Khwārazmī (d. 1141). He authored Tuḥfat al-mutakallimīn (Gift for the Scholars of Kalām), which draws extensively on al-Ghazālī and attempts to refute Avicenna’s philosophy from the perspective of Muʿtazilite kalām, with respect to the same set of philosophical questions as al-Ghazālī’s Tahāfut. Ibn al-Malāḥimī is also the author of two longer summae of Muʿtazilite kalām, al-Fāʾiq fī uṣūl al-dīn (Superior Book of Theology) and al-Muʿtamad fī uṣūl al-dīn (Fundamental Book of Theology). These are core sources for the “reformed” Muʿtazilite kalām of the school of Abū al-Ḥusayn al-Baṣrī. For instance, Ibn al-Malāḥimī provides important information on the teachings of his school for Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī.

All four authors, al-Ghazālī, Ibn Ghaylān, al-Masʿūdī, and Ibn al-Malāḥimī, focus primarily on criticising falsafa as embodied by Avicenna. Their own philosophical views remain largely faithful to the traditional philosophical positions of the Ashʿarite and Muʿtazilite kalām, albeit refracted through the lens of their need to respond to Avicenna. In other authors, this primarily critical approach is integrated into a larger project. Here the first name, which has been already mentioned, is Taj al-Dīn al-Shahrastānī (d. 1153). He is known chiefly as the author of al-Milal wa-al-niḥal (Religions and Sects), an enormous history of philosophy and theology stretching from the pre-Socratics to the various schools of kalām and falsafa. For our purposes, though, al-Shahrastānī is more important as the author of independent philosophical treatises. These include the aforementioned Muṣāraʿat al-falāsifa (The Wrestling Match with the Philosophers). This treatise attempts to refute Avicenna’s philosophical views on God’s essence and God’s knowledge, among others. But probably the most significant treatise by al-Shahrastānī for our understanding of the formative period is his Nihāyat al-aqdām fī ʿilm al-kalām (The Utmost Point of Progress in the Science of Kalām). In this treatise, al-Shahrastānī reconstructs the Ashʿarite and the Muʿtazilite views on questions of metaphysics and philosophy of religion, and compares and contrasts them with the falsafa of Avicenna. As a result, Nihāyat al-aqdām shows how a post-Avicenna philosopher understood the main differences between Muʿtazilites and Ashʿarites in pre-Avicennan kalām. Nihāyat al-aqdām is also one of the earliest examples of the project of integrating falsafa and kalām, which will be characteristic of the whole history of post-Avicennan philosophy.

A final figure of the formative period, possibly belonging already to its culmination, is Abū al-Barakāt al-Baghdādī (d. ca. 1165), a Jewish scholar who, according to most sources, converted to Islam at some point of his life. The magnum opus of Abū al-Barakāt is al-Muʿtabar (The Carefully Considered or The Reconsidered). Abū al-Barakāt cannot be easily placed in the falsafa or kalām camp. Al-Muʿtabar demonstrates that he is a highly original and independent thinker, who draws on doctrines and arguments from both traditions and elaborates on them freely, based on his own personal reflection. Abū al-Barakāt structures the book according to his own vision of the relationship between different branches of philosophy. Some of al-Muʿtabar’s philosophical positions are Avicennan, and they will serve as an important foundation for later developments in Avicennans (this applies for instance to his understanding of God’s essence). On other topics, like God’s knowledge of particulars, he adopts a strongly anti-Avicennan stance, and here he becomes a touchstone for both Avicennans and anti-Avicennans. Finally, Abū al-Barakāt’s libertarianism and denial of God’s knowledge of future contingents are unique in post-Avicennan philosophy, with an early Shiʿite scholar of kalām, Hishām ibn al-Ḥakam (d. ca. 795/6 CE), being the only other proponent of such views known to us. Abū al-Barakāt project of integration, reconsideration and reformation would be extremely influential in the culmination period of post-Avicennan philosophy, with such luminaries as Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī and al-Suhrawardī reacting against some of his positions and arguments and accepting others.

5 Culmination

Speaking of whom, the formative period of post-Avicennan philosophy reaches its culmination towards the second half of the twelfth century with Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī (d. 1210) and Shihāb al-Dīn al-Suhrawardī (d. 1191). Both of these philosophers attempt to set a new agenda by replacing the contest between Avicenna and kalām, so characteristic of the formative period, with their own philosophies. Both will prove successful.

Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī can primarily be considered a prodigy of Ashʿarite kalām. There is a direct teacher-student link between al-Rāzī and the school of al-Juwaynī. In most of his treatises, al-Rāzī often appears to defend an Ashʿarite point of view, on issues including determinism, God’s essence, and the nature of good and evil. Still, it would not be appropriate to characterize al-Rāzī simply as an Ashʿarite. In effect, al-Rāzī is carrying out a project not unlike that of al-Shahrastānī in Nihāyat al-aqdām. He looks back on Muʿtazilite and Ashʿarite kalām, as well as the falsafa of Avicenna (and sometimes even other falāsifa, such as Abū Bakr al-Rāzī), analyzes their views and arguments, and evaluates which philosophical position has the upper hand. Al-Rāzī thus sees himself as an umpire in the contest between kalām and falsafa. But he goes far beyond al-Shahrastānī’s project, becoming one of the great systematizers in the history of philosophy in the Islamic world. He bends over backwards to consider all possible views which have been held, or even could be held, on each philosophical problem, and then supplies all the arguments that could be brought to bear in favor of this or that solution. As readers often lament, it can remain unclear what al-Rāzī’s own view might be, especially given that he appears to defend different positions in different treatises. Still, it needs to be emphasized that al-Rāzī lists of arguments remain almost identical from one treatise to another, with only slight additions or rephrasing. Given this consistency, it is highly unlikely that al-Rāzī is constantly changing his mind. Rather, he is simply more interested in an analytical project whereby philosophical positions and arguments are reduced to their underlying assumptions and principles, so as to reveal how different philosophical positions follow from different presuppositions.

Fakhr al-Dīn is the author of multiple lengthy treatises. In the context of the history of Islam, he is most famous for writing his voluminous commentary on Quran (al-Tafsīr al-kabīr). For the purposes of this volume, though, al-Rāzī’s systematic treatises will be more relevant. The most important titles among them are Ishāra fī ʿilm al-kalām (Pointer on the Science of Kalām), al- Mabāḥith al-mashriqiyya fī ʿilm al-ilāhiyyāt wa-al-ṭabīʿiyyāt (Eastern Investigations in Metaphysics and Physics), Nihāyat al-ʿuqūl fī dirāyat al-uṣūl (Summit of Intellectual Knowledge in Theology), Mulakhkhaṣ fī al-ḥikma wa-al-manṭiq (Summary on Philosophy and Logic), Muḥaṣṣal afkār al-mutaqaddimīn wa-al-mutaʾakhkhirīn (Epitome of The Ancient and Modern Thought), al-Arbaʿīn fī uṣūl al-dīn (Forty Questions on Theology), al-Maʿālim fī uṣūl al-dīn (Signs in Theology), al-Risāla al-kamāliyya fī al-haqāʾiq al-ilāhiyya (Complete Epistle on Metaphysical Truths), Sharḥ al-Ishārāt wa-al-tanbīhāt (Commentary on Pointers and Reminders), Sharḥ ʿUyūn al-ḥikma (Commentary on Origins of Wisdom), and al-Maṭālib al-ʿāliyya min al-ʿilm al-ilāhī (Lofty Inquiries on Metaphysics). Each of these treatises has its own aim that determines its structure, contents, and the arguments and positions which al-Rāzī discusses. Some have a clear Ashʿarite leaning, such as Nihāyat al-ʿuqūl or the Muḥaṣṣal, while other treatises seem to be more grounded in Avicenna’s philosophy, like the Mabāḥith. But most of the other works just listed are hard to label as being either representative of al-Rāzī’s Ashʿarite views or of his interest in Avicenna’s philosophy. They should be more appropriately regarded as the products of al-Rāzī’s own philosophical genius, which seeks to replace both Avicennan falsafa and kalām with a new synthesis (determining the nature of this synthesis remains a desideratum for future research).

Shihāb al-Dīn al-Suhrawardī had a similar ambition. He lived a very short life because he was executed by Saladin for political plotting in 1191. Yet he managed to write a series of treatises that changed the course of post-Avicennan philosophy forever. For a long time, al-Suhrawardī’s philosophy, which he himself calls “philosophy of illumination,” was presented in modern scholarship as a turn from philosophy to mysticism and spiritualism. But this is not the picture that the reader will find in this book. Rather, just as al-Rāzī’s project may be regarded as a development of al- Shahrastānī’s project, so can al-Suhrawardī’s project be regarded as a development of Abū al-Barakāt’s project (something neither of them would probably like to hear, given al-Rāzī’s critical view of al- Shahrastānī and al-Suhrawardī’s contempt for Abū al-Barakāt).12 Al-Suhrawardī’s main goal is to reform and develop Avicenna’s philosophy, with the aim of producing a better, more defensible version. With respect to some philosophical questions, al-Suhrawardī remains consistently Avicennan, for instance, regarding the nature of good and evil, or determinism. But in most other cases, al-Suhrawardī fashions a “reformed Avicennism” by arguing for positions that were never explicitly stated by Avicenna, such as conceptualism with regard to the notion of existence and the generic universals, God’s direct knowledge of particulars, or the difference in perfection between God’s existence and the existence of other things. Al-Suhrawardī develops these ideas either on purely Avicennan grounds or by drawing insights from the authors of the formative period of post-Avicennan philosophy, especially al-Khayyām and Abū al-Barakāt.13

Al-Suhrawardī’s most important treatises are Ḥikmat al-ishrāq (Philosophy of Illumination), al-Talwīḥāt al-lawḥiyya wa-al-ʿarshiyyaa (Intimations of the Tablet and the Throne), al-Mashāriʿ wa-al-muṭāraḥāt (Paths and Havens), al-Muqāwamāt (Opposites), al-Lamaḥāt (Flashes of Light), Hayākil al-nūr (Temples of Light), and Partūnāma (Sun Rays). It has been common to divide these treatises into two groups, pro-Avicennan and illuminationist,14 but we have found no solid basis for this. Only al-Lamaḥāt stands out as a summary of purely Avicennan philosophy. All the other treatises form a unity, which represents al-Suhrawardī’s own take on Avicennan philosophy characterized by distinctively “illuminationist” elements, such as anti-realism about the notion of existence, a theory of celestial intelligences called the “Lords of Species,” a direct realist epistemological theory of knowledge as presence, and so on. Ḥikmāt al-ishrāq, which was traditionally supposed to be the only treatise representative of al-Suhrawardī’s personal philosophy, is mostly in harmony with al-Suhrawardī’s other treatises. It is distinguished primarily just by the additional emphasis on the terminology of “light” in the second part of the book. Yet its argumentation is predominantly a summary of lengthy discussions in al-Mashāriʿ. The latter, in fact, appears to be the most valuable source for al-Suhrawardī’s philosophy. It presents a detailed account of al-Suhrawardī’s philosophical argumentation and of his reaction to Avicennism, Abū al-Barakāt, and kalām. Still, his other treatises do offer additional insights in al-Suhrawardī’s version of reformed Avicennism.

6 Refinement

If the formative period described above was characterized as a contest between Avicenna and kalām, the period after al-Rāzī and al-Suhrawardī up until the end of the thirteenth century was a time of contest between their two philosophies. Al-Rāzī becomes the new kalām, al-Suhrawardī the new Avicenna. Avicenna himself and the earlier treatises of kalām are still read, but they are always interpreted and understood through the lens of these two thinkers. When we need to identify a philosophical tradition, we usually speak about a common set of questions, arguments and available positions as well as some standard terminology. This is precisely the framework that al-Rāzī and al-Suhrawardī create for philosophy in the thirteenth century. From al-Rāzī’s analytical and systematic approach, authors inherit a determinate set of arguments, principles, and positions. Meanwhile al-Suhrawardī’s reformist approach to Avicenna defines a series of standard notions, such as the “merely conceptual (iʿtibārī),” “concrete being (huwiyya),” “knowledge by presence (ʿilm ḥuḍūrī),” and “the Lords of Species (arbāb al-nawʿ).”

The influence of al-Rāzī and al-Suhrawardī was felt immediately. The first to fall under al-Rāzī’s spell were his direct disciples. Among them, we have surviving works of only one, Zayn al-Dīn al-Kashshī (d. ca. 1221/2). His main work is Ḥadāʾiq al-ḥaqāʾiq (Gardens of Truths), a philosophical summa that is largely indebted to al-Rāzī. At the same time, we can observe the influence of al-Suhrawardī already in al-Kashshī, who speaks of divine Lights and Lords of Species. Another student of al-Rāzī, Quṭb al-Dīn al-Miṣrī (d. 1221) may not have produced philosophical texts available to us, but he taught one of the most influential scholars of the thirteenth century, Athīr al-Dīn al-Abharī (d. 1265?). Al-Abharī is a paradigm author of the post-Rāzian and post-Suhrawardian era. He authors more than a dozen short treatises, most of which attempt to cover the whole of philosophy, from logic to metaphysics and natural philosophy. In these treatises, al-Abharī does to al-Rāzī and al-Suhrawardī what they did to Avicenna and kalām. That is, al-Abharī systemizes arguments and positions, adds further options, and explains how al-Suhrawardī’s views and argumentation fit into al-Rāzī’s analytical scheme of philosophy.

Al-Abharī’s allegiance to the Rāzian reading of kalām and to Suhrawardian reformed Avicennism seem to be in flux across his treatises. Some of them, such as Kashf al-ḥaqāʾiq (Revelation of the Truths), Tanzīl al-afkār (Settlement of Thoughts) and Risāla fī ʿilm al-kalām (Epistle on the Science of Kalām) go more in the direction of al-Rāzī. Other texts, such as Bayān al-asrār (Explanation of Secrets), Zubdat al-ḥaqāʾiq (Cream of Truths), Muntahā al-afkār fī ibānat al-asrār (Final Thoughts to Explicate the Secrets), and Talkhīṣ al-ḥaqāʾiq (Summary of Truths) clearly follow al-Suhrawardī on most points. Al-Abharī’s Hidāyat al-ḥikma (Philosophical Guidance) is just a faithful exposition of truly Avicennan philosophy, which may be why it becomes a common basis for later commentaries. With al-Abharī, we encounter once again one of the core puzzles regarding post-Avicennan philosophy: why would one and the same author write so many different treatises, which express mutually contradictory views? While this question arises with al-Rāzī himself, with al-Abharī it becomes even more puzzling. Different answers can be given—different genres, audiences, didactic purposes, or periods of life—but the question still requires further research.15 The Abharian synthesis of al-Rāzī and al-Suhrawardī must be the product of his studies with the aforementioned Quṭb al-Dīn al-Miṣrī and the astronomer and mathematician Kamāl al-Dīn ibn Yūnus (d. 1242). No philosophical treatise of Kamāl al-Dīn survives, yet his impact on philosophy in the thirteenth century is significant. His school in Mosul might have been the place where al-Suhrawardī’s philosophy was transmitted to subsequent generations.16

This hypothesis—and for now it remains only a hypothesis—can take some support from the scholarly profile of Naṣīr al-Dīn al-Ṭūsī (d. 1274). Just like al-Abharī, al-Ṭūsī studied with al-Rāzī’s student Quṭb al-Dīn al-Miṣrī and with Kamāl al-Dīn ibn Yunūs. Al-Ṭūsī is among the most famous post-Avicennan philosophers, alongside al-Rāzī and al-Suhrawardī themselves. His fame is due above all to his work as an astronomer. But within philosophy, his most frequently consulted text is Sharḥ al-Ishārāt wa-al-tanbīhāt (Commentary on Pointers and Reminders), a critical response to al-Rāzī’s earlier commentary on Avicenna’s Pointers and Reminders. Due to this response, al-Ṭūsī has earned the reputation of being the greatest defender of Avicenna’s philosophy after Avicenna. Al-Ṭūsī’s other treatise Maṣāriʿ al-Muṣāriʿ (Fatalities of the Wrestler), directed against al-Shahrastānī’s Muṣāraʿa (Wrestling Match) in defence of Avicenna, is another case to the point.

Yet the usual depiction of al-Ṭūsī as a staunchly orthodox Avicennist is an oversimplification. Al-Ṭūsī’s works are a product of his time, following in the footsteps of al-Abharī, and influenced by al-Suhrawardī’s reformed Avicennism, possibly through the school of his master Kamāl al-Dīn ibn Yūnus. Signs of this would include his conceptualism with regard to existence and generic notions, or his stance on God’s knowledge of particulars. Al-Ṭūsī’s life goal is not just to defend Avicenna, but to correct and refine post-Avicennan philosophy as it has reached him. This can be seen for instance from al-Ṭūsī’s Talkhīṣ al-Muḥaṣṣal (Summary of the Epitome), which is another critical response to al-Rāzī, now to the latter’s treatise al-Muḥaṣṣal. Here, al-Ṭūsī’s project is not that of a defensive Avicennan but a thoroughgoing critic of al-Rāzī, for his understanding of falsafa, for his understanding of kalām, and anything else that comes up.

Al-Ṭūsī is the author of innumerable shorter treatises. His Tajrīd al-ʿaqāʾid (Extraction of Beliefs) is al-Ṭūsī’s updating of the kalām summa for a post-Rāzī, post-Suhrawardī era: his writing here is however so compressed that is it is almost impossible to understand it without the commentary of his student al-Ḥillī, which is entitled Kashf al-murād fī sharḥ Tajrīd al-iʿtiqād (Revealing the Meaning of the Extraction of Beliefs). Al-Ṭūsī is also the author of a numerous epistolary exchanges with his contemporaries, collected in a recent edition of Ajwibat al-masāʾil al-naṣīriyya (Answers to Questions for Naṣīr al-Dīn), a brilliant representation of the thriving, interconnected network of philosophers in the Islamic East in the middle of the thirteenth century.

Among al-Ṭūsī’s correspondents and colleagues is Shams al-Dīn al-Kātibī al-Qazwīnī (d. 1276). He is a student al-Abharī, as we can clearly see from his treatise Jāmiʿ al-daqāʾiq fī kashf al-ḥaqāʾiq (Collected Subtleties in Revelation of the Truths) which largely follows al-Abharī’s brand of Suhrawardian reformed Avicennism. Al-Kātibī’s Ḥikmat al-ʿayn (The Quintessence of Wisdom), focusing on metaphysics and natural philosophy, is however more balanced between al-Rāzī and al-Abharī. In fact, al-Kātibī appears to be very much interested in al-Rāzī’s philosophy, with his commentary on al-Rāzī’s Mulakhkhaṣ (Munaṣṣaṣ fī sharḥ al-Mulakhkhaṣ) being a paradigm example of why we call this period one of “refinement.” Al-Kātibī carefully studies al-Rāzī’s texts, interprets them sentence by sentence, and provides critical evaluation, based on either al-Abharī’s and al-Ṭūsī’s insights or his own logical considerations. Al-Kātibī is indeed famous as one of the most influential logicians, with his treatise al- Risāla al-Shamsiyya (Treatise for Shams al-Dīn) destined to become the handbook of logic in post-classical philosophy in the Islamic world.

Bar Hebraeus (d. 1286) belongs to the same circle of scholars as al-Ṭūsī and al-Kātibī. One might be surprised to find his name here, as he is a Christian author, writing mainly in Syriac, and known to contemporary scholarship mostly as a historian. However, Bar Hebraeus is no less an “heir of Avicenna” than al-Ṭūsī and al-Ḥillī.17 His Ḥēwath ḥekhmthā (Cream of Wisdom) is a presentation of Avicennan philosophy, heavily influenced by contemporary discussions in al-Abharī and al-Ṭūsī. Bar Hebraeus’ lengthy theological compendium Mnārath qudhshē (Candelabrum of the Sanctuary) is likewise indebted to the Rāzian systematization of kalām and the Abharian-Ṭūsian updating of Avicennism. Bar Hebraeus’ goal is to adapt the mixture of falsafa and kalām, typical of philosophy of his century, for use in Christianity, and to make it available to a new audience by writing in Syriac.

In the younger generation of this circle we have Ibn Muṭahhar al-Ḥillī, also known as al-ʿAllāma al-Ḥillī (d. 1325). Apart from the aforementioned exegesis of al-Ṭūsī’s Tajrīd in Kashf al-murād, al-Ḥillī also wrote a few independent works, such as Taslīk al-nafs ilā ḥaẓīrat al-quds (Conveying the Soul to Paradise) and Nihāyat al-marām fī ʿilm al-kalām (The Utmost Objective in the Science of Kalām), both being works of kalām, and al-Asrār al-khafiyya (Hidden Secrets), an elaborate study of all parts of philosophy. In all of his works, al-Ḥillī shows how much he is influenced by his teacher, al-Ṭūsī. Al-Ḥillī is sometimes credited with being among the most influential Shiʿite scholars, and a reviver of neo-Muʿtazilism of Abū al-Ḥusayn al-Baṣrī, now in a Shiʿite context.18 Note, however, that both prominent elements of al-Ḥillī’s Muʿtazilism, moral realism and compatibilism, are already present in al-Ṭūsī. Still, al-Ḥillī’s independent works do not shy away from criticizing the arguments and positions provided by his teacher, providing another stage in the refinement of post-Avicennan philosophy. In this regard, al-Ḥillī is a more interesting source for the later stage of the Ṭūsian circle than his younger contemporary Badr al-Dīn al-Tustarī (d. ca. 1330), whose al-Muḥākamāt bayna Naṣīr al-Dīn wa-al-imām Fakhr al-Rāzī (Discussions between Naṣīr al-Dīn and Fakhr al-Rāzī) appears to be a largely secondary compilation of al-Rāzī’s and al-Ṭūsī’s commentaries on Avicenna’s Ishārāt.

So far, we have considered one line of scholars in the thirteenth century, those who reacted to al-Rāzī and were indirectly influenced by al-Suhrawardī through the school of Kamāl ibn Yūnus and al-Abharī. In this line of the tradition, al-Suhrawardī’s heritage is present only to the extent of being understood as a better, stronger version of Avicennism, for instance with regard to the question of God’s knowledge of particulars, God’s essence, and a conceptualist understanding of existence. The metaphysics of Light is marginalised in this tradition, if it is mentioned at all. Indeed, the later representatives of this tradition may not even be aware of it when they are following al-Suhrawardī.

The situation is very different with three other scholars of the late thirteenth century, whose direct and explicit adherence to the philosophy of al-Suhrawardī is beyond any doubt. They are Ibn Kammūna, Shams al-Dīn al-Shahrazūrī, and Quṭb al-Dīn al-Shīrāzī. The senior of them is ʿIzz al-Dawla ibn Kammūna (d. after 1284) a Jewish philosopher from Baghdad and a clear adherent of al-Suhrawardī’s illuminationism.19 He writes a commentary on al-Suhrawardī’s Talwīḥāt (Sharḥ al-Talwīḥāṭ), in which he explains the dense text of al-Talwīḥāt through al-Suhrawardī’s own Mashāriʿ, Ḥikmat al-ishrāq, and Muqāwamāt. Another important work of Ibn Kammūna is al-Jadīd fī al-ḥikma (The Innovative in Philosophy) a concise compendium of illuminationism, influenced by al-Suhrawardī, al-Abharī, al-Ṭūsī and—reaching back all the way to the generation of Avicenna’s students—Bahmanyār’s Taḥṣīl.20 Ibn Kammūna’s method in al-Jadīd fī al-ḥikma recalls that of al-Ḥillī’s Asrār, with its focus on a succinct analytical presentation of arguments supporting correct positions, instead of presenting all possible positions, as common in the systematic tradition of al-Rāzī. Finally, Ibn Kammūna is also the author of a series of treatises on immortality and the transmigration of the soul, which will be treated in a further volume of our series.

We know little about what attracted Ibn Kammūna to the direct study of al-Suhrawardī’s own works, instead of just using the simplified version of al-Suhrawardī, as transmitted through the school of Kamāl ibn Yūnus. A hint may be that Ibn Kammūna wrote an epitome of Najm al-Dīn al-Nakhjawānī (d. after 1229) Commentary of Avicenna’s Pointers (Sharḥ al-Ishārāt).21 Almost nothing is known about this al-Nakhjawānī so far, but his surviving commentary of Avicenna’s Pointers (if it is the same text that Ibn Kammūna summarizes) does include a few illuminationist passages, from which we will be quoting. Ibn Kammūna in turn certainly influences Shams al-Dīn al-Shahrazūrī (d. after 1288). The latter goes further than Ibn Kammūna, departing from a more Avicennan al-Suhrawardī to a proper, self-standing illuminationism. Indeed it would be fair to credit (or blame) al-Shahrazūrī as having propagated the aforementioned reading of al-Suhrawardī’s illuminationism as something entirely new and non-Avicennan. In his treatises Sharḥ Ḥikmat al-ishrāq (Commentary on the Philosophy of Illumination) and al-Shajara al-ilāhiyya (Divine Tree), al-Shahrazūrī uses Ibn Kammūna’s Commentary on al-Suhrawardī’s Talwīḥāt extensively, but focuses more than Ibn Kammūna on al-Suhrawardī’s metaphysics of Light, so as to portray his metaphysics as profoundly non-Avicennan. At the same time, al-Shahrazūrī’s treatise al-Shajara al-ilāhiyya is among the most helpful sources on the state of philosophical discussion around the end of the thirteenth century. It is a valuable analytical sourcebook of post-Rāzian and post-Suhrawardian philosophy, which provides an almost exhaustive list of positions and arguments on various questions of metaphysics, theology, natural sciences, and the philosophy of mind, ascribed to al-Rāzī, al-Abharī, al-Ṭūsī, and Ibn Kammūna, all with evaluative remarks by al-Shahrazūrī himself. In this regard, al-Shahrazūrī appears to be a more valuable source than the final Illuminationist in our period, Quṭb al-Dīn al-Shīrāzī (d. 1311), whose Sharḥ Ḥikmat al-ishrāq (Commentary on Philosophy of Illumination) is largely secondary to Ibn Kammūna and al-Shahrazūrī, despite being widely read in the later tradition.22

Both the Abharian-Ṭūsian philosophical circle and the Illuminationists influenced by Ibn Kammūna engage in the project of refinement, building on the achievements of the period of culmination. They do not create new systems of philosophy but adjust, re-systematize, and explicate the positions and arguments that al-Rāzī and al-Suhrawardī have left to them, sometimes adding new arguments. There is, however, one last line of philosophers in the thirteenth century which takes distance from Suhrawardian reformed Avicennism. The first to be mentioned here is Sayf al-Dīn al-Āmidī (d. 1233). In effect, al-Āmidī is still a representative of the previous period of post-Avicennan philosophy. For him, philosophy remains a contest between kalām and falsafa, not between al-Rāzī and al-Suhrawardī. And like al-Rāzī and al-Abharī, al-Āmidī writes a series of treatises that demonstrate different allegiances.23 His al-Nūr al-bāhir (Luminous Light) is a compendium of orthodox Avicennan philosophy, reminiscent of the early works of Avicenna’s own school from the formative period. His Kashf al-tamwīhāt fī Sharḥ al-Rāzī ʿalā al-Ishārāt wa-al-tanbīhāt (Revealing al-Rāzī’s Frauds in his Commentary of Pointers and Reminders) is a response to al-Rāzī’s Sharḥ al-Ishārāt, not so much interested in defending Avicenna as in showing that al-Rāzī is wrong about everything (as we said about the later Talkhīṣ al-Muḥaṣṣal, by al-Ṭūsī). Likewise, al-Āmidī’s Rumūz al-kunūz (Signs of Treasures) and Daqāʾiq al-ḥaqāʾiq (Subtleties of Truths) demonstrate engagement with al-Rāzī, while at times being explicitly more critical of Avicenna. Finally, al-Āmidī’s Abkār al-afkār fī uṣūl al-dīn (Firstborn Thoughts in Theology) and Ghāyat al-marām fī ʿilm al-kalām (The End of Objectives in The Science of Kalām) go in a completely different direction. Here, al-Āmidī presents himself as a staunch proponent of orthodox Ashʿarite kalām, trying to escape al-Rāzī’s influence so as to return to the original pre-Rāzian kalām. Towards this end, in the Ghāyat al-marām, al-Āmidī uses al-Shahrastānī’s Nihāyat al-aqdām, among others. Al-Āmidī’s Abkār al-afkār and Ghāyat al-marām represent the last attempt to defend the traditional kalām metaphysics, physics, and philosophy of mind. But as our chapters show, al-Āmidī seems to have no influence on metaphysics and theology in the Islamic East in the thirteenth century.

Afḍal al-Dīn al-Khūnajī (d. 1248) is another author of the refinement period who managed to remain untouched by al-Suhrawardī’s version of the reformed Avicennism. In his works, al-Khūnajī is mostly focused on adjudicating between traditional Avicennism and al-Rāzī, and on developing his own ideas in logic. Indeed, al-Khūnajī’s most important contributions are all in logic, with his treatise Kashf al-asrār ʿan ghawāmiḍ al-afkār (Revealing the Secrets of Abstruse Thoughts) being among the most influential reformist writings in the history of post-Avicennan logic. Al-Khūnajī will barely appear in this volume, but will take a central place in the volume on Logic and Epistemology.

In the second half of the thirteenth century Sirāj al-Dīn al-Urmawī (d. 1283) is the next to lie outside the tradition initiated by the school of Kamāl ibn Yūnus. As with al-Khūnajī, al-Urmawī’s main historical achievement consists in his writings on logic. Yet his Maṭāliʿ al-anwār (The Dawning of Lights) also includes a section on metaphysics, which again focuses on the clash between Avicenna and al-Rāzī. Al-Urmawī is particularly interested in the relationship between falsafa and kalām and devotes a short treatise Risāla fī al-farq bayna nawʿay al-ʿilm al-ilāhī wa-al-kalām (Treatise on the Difference in Kind between Metaphysics and Kalām) to this question.

A final figure who may be placed in this category is Shams al-Dīn al-Samarqandī (d. either 1303 or 1322). Al-Samarqandī studied with Burhān al-Dīn al-Nasafī (d. 1289), whose auto-commentary Sharḥ Asās al-kiyāsa (Commentary on the Foundations of Intelligence) yet again engages with Avicenna and al-Rāzī as two opponents. Al-Samarqandī adopts a similar approach in his al-Ṣaḥāʾif al-ilāhiyyya (Divine Pages) and his auto-commentary (Maʿārif al-Ṣaḥāʾif). This is a work of kalām, which focuses on the traditional views of the Muʿtazilites and the Ashʿarites and contrasts them with the Avicennan version of falsafa—all this, predictably enough, filtered through al-Rāzī. Unlike the last two mentioned authors, however, al-Samarqandī does not escape the influence of the Abharian-Ṭūsian philosophy. This can be seen just from his use of terminology like nafs al-amr (a calling card of Ṭūsian philosophy), and more substantively from his agreement with al-Ṭūsī’s version of compatibilism. Despite being indebted to al-Rāzī and al-Ṭūsī, al-Samarqandī demonstrates curious originality, which can be observed, for instance, in his analysis of the notion of existence. Like al-Urmawī, al-Samarqandī is interested in the relationship between falsafa metaphysics and kalām, and he takes a similar view on this question. Further treatises by al-Samarqandī include another text of kalām, al-Muʿtaqad li-iʿtiqād ahl al-islām (The Contents of Belief of the People of Islam), and a logical treatise Qisṭās al-afkār fī taḥqīq al-asrār (Balance of Thoughts in Understanding the Secrets). Al-Samarqandī is otherwise known as the author responsible for emergence of a new genre, ādāb al-baḥth, focused on theory of argumentation, which became important in the later centuries. Al-Samarqandī stands at the end for the Rāzian line of philosophy in the thirteenth century, just as al-Ḥillī does so for the Abharian-Ṭūsian line, and al-Shahrazūrī for the Illuminationists. These three authors mark the end of the period of the “Heirs of Avicenna.”

7 Others

In the previous sections of this historical overview, we have described the main historical developments in post-Avicennan philosophy between the middle of the eleventh and the end of the thirteenth centuries in the Islamic East. There are, however, a few authors who fall outside of these main developments, or just are so marginal that they cannot easily be integrated in the historical picture of schools and traditions given above.

First of all, we need to mention two representatives of what is sometimes called “philosophical Sufism,” ʿAyn al-Quḍāt al-Hamadhānī (d. 1131) and Ṣadr al-Dīn al-Qūnawī (d. 1274). For the purposes of this volume, both al-Hamaḏānī and al-Qūnawī play a role insofar as both react to some contemporary discussions in the mainstream development of post-Avicenna philosophy. Thus ʿAyn al-Quḍāt with his treatise Zubdat al-ḥaqāʾiq (Cream of Truths) represents a reaction from the perspective of philosophical Sufism to the developments in the formative period of post-Avicenna philosophy. Al-Qūnawī, in his turn, reacts to the processes in the Abharian-Ṭūsian circles in his epistolary exchange with al-Ṭūsī (Murāsalāt bayna Ṣadr al-Dīn al-Qūnawī wa-Naṣīr al-Dīn al-Ṭūsī). We hope to provide more information on both authors and the development of post-Avicennan philosophical Sufism in general in a separate volume in this series.

Two further authors are Sirāj al-Dīn al-Sakkākī (d. 1229) and Ibn al-Nafīs (d. 1288). Each of them is famous for their writings in the areas outside of philosophy. Al-Sakakkī’s most famous contributions are in the areas of language and magic. Ibn al-Nafīs is primarily famous for his contributions in medicine. Still, both al-Sakkakī’s Miftaḥ al-ʿulūm (Key to the Sciences) and Ibn al-Nafīs’ Sharḥ al-wurayqāt fī al-manṭiq (Commentary on Logic Textbooks) contribute to the history of logic (and, hence, will be addressed in the Logic volume of this series). Based on the example of these two polymaths, one can observe the integration of the scholarly community of the thirteenth century Islamic East into the philosophical discourse of the “heirs of Avicenna.”

Finally yet importantly, there is one more author in the early thirteenth century who lies outside our main historical framework. His name is Afḍal al-Dīn al-Kāshānī, more commonly known as Bābā Afḍal (d. ca. 1213/14). Otherwise known as a Persian poet, Bābā Afḍal is also the author of a few philosophical treatises, such as Madārij al-kamāl (The Levels of Perfection), ʿArḍnāma (The Book of Displays), and Taqrīrāt wa fuṣūl muqaṭṭaʿa (Miscellaneous Expositions and Issues), as well as some philosophical letters. Bābā Afḍal is primarily a Neoplatonic philosopher, something rather unusual for this period of post-Avicennan philosophy.24 Still, as the reader will see, Bābā Afḍal’s philosophy is largely integrated into Avicenna’s conceptual framework, using the same arguments in application to different terminology, and discussing a similar set of issues as we find among the “heirs of Avicenna.” In this regard, Bābā Afḍal is different from his contemporary ʿAbd al-Lāṭif al- Baghdādī (d. 1231), whose turned so decisively away from anything Avicennan that we decided not to include him in this volume.25

8 Online Text Resource

All the texts quoted in this volume are available in a free online resource which can be found at:

www.heirsofavicenna.net

There users will find the passages in their original languages, mostly in Arabic but also Greek, Persian, and Syriac, with the same division into chapters and text numbers.

1

D. Gutas, “The Heritage of Avicenna: The Golden Age of Arabic Philosophy, 1000–ca. 1350,” in J. Janssens and D. De Smet (eds), Avicenna and his Heritage (Leuven: 2002), 81–97; D. Gutas, “Avicenna and After: The Development of Paraphilosophy. A History of Science Approach,” in A. Al Ghouz (ed.), Islamic Philosophy from the 12th to the 14th Century (Göttingen: Bonn University Press, 2018), 19–72.

2

For one detailed response see J. Kaukua, “Post-Classical Islamic Philosophy: a Contradiction in Terms?” al-Nazariyat 6 (2020), 1–21.

3

Namely A.A. Long and D.N. Sedley, The Hellenistic Philosophers, 2 vols (Cambridge: 1987); R. Sorabji, The Philosophy of the Commentators, 200–600 AD: a Sourcebook, 3 vols (London: 2004).

4

For instance J. Kaukua, Suhrawardī’s Illuminationism: a Philosophical Study (Leiden: 2022), L. Hassan, Ashʿarism Encounters Avicennism: Sayf al-Dīn al-Āmidī on Creation (Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, 2020), A. Shihadeh, Doubts on Avicenna: A Study and Edition of Sharaf al-Dīn al-Masʿūdī’s Commentary on the Ishārāt (Leiden: Brill, 2016), and F. Griffel, The Formation of Post-Classical Philosophy in Islam (Oxford: 2021), which is useful for the whole period but especially focuses on Fakhr al-Dīn. One should not neglect older studies on individual thinkers, e.g. S. Pines, Studies in Abu’l-Barakāt al-Baghdādī: Physics and Metaphysics (Jerusalem: 1979), and studies in Arabic and non-European languages e.g. M.Ṣ. al-Zarkān, Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī wa-ārāʾuhū al-kalāmiyya wa-al-falsafiyya (Cairo: 1963).

5

An old but still very helpful study of the argumentative technique in kalām is J. van Ess, “The Logical Structure of Islamic Theology,” in: G.E. Grunebaum (ed.), Logic in Classical Islamic Culture, Giorgio Levi Della Vida Biennial Conference, University of California (Wiesbaden: 1970), 21–50.

6

Moreover, some passages may be relevant for different volumes. For instance, the questions of modality and essentiality, understood nowadays as metaphysical issues, may be expected to be found in this volume. However, the reader will find the relevant chapters in the volume on Logic and Epistemology, since the authors of our period saw those issues as part of logic.

7

This section only attempts to provide a general historical overview of these authors to facilitate the use of the materials in the subsequent chapters. The reader can find detailed biobibliographical accounts of those authors in a few core publications focusing on the life and works of post-Avicennan philosophers: F. Griffel, The Formation of Post-Classical Philosophy in Islam (Oxford: 2021); Kh. El-Rouayheb, The Development of Arabic Logic (1200–1800) (Basel: 2019); A.H. al-Rahim, The Creation of Philosophical Tradition (Wiesbaden: 2018); U. Rudolph (ed.), Philosophie in der islamischen Welt: 11. und 12. Jahrhundert: Zentrale und östliche Gebiete (Basel: 2021). This section largely relies on the accounts from these sources.

8

On the history of kalām, see further S. Schmidtke (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Islamic Theology (Oxford, 2016) and J. van Ess, Theology and Society in the Second and the Third Centuries of the Hijra: A History of Religious Thought in Early Islam, 5 vols., tr. from German by J. O’Kane, G. Goldbloom, R. Otto (Brill: 2017–2020).

9

Further references on the formative period of post-Avicennan philosophy include A. Shihadeh, “From al-Ghazālī to al-Rāzī: 6th/12th Century Developments in Muslim Philosophical Theology,” Arabic Sciences and Philosophy 15 (2005): 141–179.

10

See further J. Janssens, “Bahmanyār ibn Marzubān: A Faithful Disciple of Avicenna,” in: D.C. Reisman and A.H. al-Rahim (eds.), Before and After Avicenna: Proceedings of the First Conference of the Avicenna Study Group (Leiden-Boston: 2003), 177–198.

11

On the traditions of commentators on Avicenna’s Ishārāt see R. Wisnovsky, “Towards a Genealogy of Avicennism,” Oriens 42 (2014): 323–363 and idem, “Avicenna’s Islamic Reception,” In P. Adamson (ed.), Interpreting Avicenna: Critical Essays, (Cambridge: 2013), 190–213.

12

See, for instance, al-Rāzī, Munāẓarāt, 39 and al-Suhrawardī, Mašāriʿ, Ilāhiyyāt. 471.

13

This view of al-Suhrwardī has been recently defended in J. Kaukua, Suhrawardī’s Illuminationism: A Philosophical Study (Leiden-Boston: 2022).

14

On the division of al-Suhrawardī’s treatises, see H. Ziai, Knowledge and Illumination (Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1990).

15

Some possible solutions to this puzzle can be found in Griffel, Formation.

16

That al-Suhrawardī was studied in the school of Ibn Yūnus is mentioned in ʿAbd al-Laṭīf’s autobiography. See C. Martini Bonadeo, ʿAbd al-Laṭīf’s al-Baġdādī’s Philosophical Journey: From Aristotle’s Metaphysics to the Metaphysical Science (Leiden-Boston: 2013), 124.

17

This view on Bar Hebraeus is corroborated by S. Rassi, Christian Thought in the Medieval Islamic World: ʿAbdīshō of Nisibis and the Apologetic Tradition (Oxford: 2022) and H. Takahashi, “The Reception of Ibn Sīnā in Syriac: The Case of Barhebraeus,” in D. Reisman (ed.), Before and After Avicenna (Leiden: 2003), 249–281.

18

See, for instance, S. Schmidtke, The Theology of al-ʿAllāma al-Ḥillī (d. 726/1325) (Berlin: 1991).

19

A detailed study on Ibn Kammūna’s life and works is R. Pourjavadi and S. Schmidtke, A Jewish Philosopher of Baghdad: ʿIzz al-Dawla Ibn Kammūna (d. 683/1284) (Leiden: 2006).

20

See further H. Eichner, “The Chapter ‘On Existence and Non-existence’ of Ibn Kammūna’s ‘al-Jadīd fī l-Ḥikma’: Trends and Sources in an Author’s Shaping the Exegetical Tradition of al-Suhrawardī’s Ontology,” in Y.T. Langermann (ed.), Avicenna and His Legacy (Brepols, 2009), 143–178.

21

R. Pourjavadi and S. Schmidtke, A Jewish Philosopher of Baghdad, 85–86.

22

A rather different view of Quṭb al-Dīn is found in J. Walbridge, The Science of Mystic Lights: Quṭb al-Dīn al-Shīrāzī and the Illuminationist Tradition in Islamic Philosophy (Cambridge, MA: 1992).

23

See L. Hassan, Ashʿarism Encounters Avicennism: Sayf al-Dīn al-Āmidī on Creation, 283–294.

24

Cf. W. Chittick, The Heart of Islamic Philosophy: The Quest of Self-Knowledge in the Teachings of Afḍal al-din al-Kashānī (Oxford: 2001).

25

See further Martini Bonadeo, ʿAbd al-Laṭīf’s al-Baġdādī’s Philosophical Journey.

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