1 The Genesis and Evolution of Arabic Mirrors for Princes

A study of the founding texts of political thought in Islam allows us to see how open the first Muslims were to the knowledge of the ancients (Persian, Greek and Indian), and that they did not reject it in the name of religion or the existence of an exclusively “Islamic” model rooted in sacred texts. In addition to the practical knowledge of government that was of Greek or Persian origin, transmitted directly through the Arabization of the administration under the Umayyad caliphate of ʿAbd al-Malik ibn Marwān (d. 705),⁵ the period from the end of the seventh to the beginning of the 8th century saw the emergence of a great interest in the translation of texts on the conduct of political affairs. Almost a century before the beginning of the great movement to translate Greek scientific and philosophical texts into Arabic, political literature of Greek, Indian and Persian origin was translated around the 8th century and was integrated into the heart of Islam, gradually forming the basis of future government treatises. Three major texts were translated in the very beginning of Islam: the Letters of Aristotle to Alexander, an apocryphal correspondence between Aristotle and Alexander the Great; Kalila and Dimna, fables of Indian origin by the philosopher Bidpaï (or Pilpay) translated by Ibn al-Muqaffaʾ (720–757), in the middle of the 8th century from a version in Pehlevi; and the Testament of Ardashīr, the Persian king of the 3rd century who bequeathed to his son Shapūr advice and maxims relating to the government of the Sassanid Empire.

The entire political literature stemming from this tradition, which lasted until the Ottomans, is indebted to these founding texts, which opened up a veritable reflection on kingship (al-mulk), power (al-sulṭān) and government (siyāsa, tadbīr).⁶ Firstly, the Letters of Aristotle to Alexander, the Pseudo-Aristotle, marked the beginning of the tradition of the mirror for princes, initially through its maxims and reflections on war and peace, and then through elucidating the link between knowledge, embodied by the figure of Aristotle, and power, represented by Alexander the Great, as well as the ethics of the prince and the construction of a perfect model of sovereignty. One of these Letters, “On the Government of the Cities”, was often included in manuscripts dealing with politics together with the famous Secret of Secrets, which enjoyed a long period of success in both East and the West during the Middle Ages. The second text that contributed greatly to the constitution of the government treatises is Kalila and Dimna. This book presents a vision of the ideal relationship between knowledge and power. As in the previous text, knowledge is embodied by the philosopher who must educate the prince and explain to him the duties of a good head of state. This text is a powerful reflection on the human passions that determine political anthropology, and a broad conceptualization of the theme of self-government as the foundation for governing others. These fables were widely circulated in the Arabic tradition and were also translated into Latin and other languages during the Middle Ages. The third text is the Testament of Ardashīr, the Persian king of the 3rd century whose action had been politically decisive: he had unified Persia, founding the Sassanid Empire. After Alexander’s conquests, the Persian Empire had become fragmented, and various kingdoms coexisted for centuries. Ardashīr put an end to this political fragmentation, unifying the kingdom under one authority, neutralizing dissent and centralizing leadership, in contrast to the previous system of rule by local princes and lords (known as “Mulūk al-ṭawāʾif”, or the “taifa kings” in the Arabic historical tradition). In addition to the maxims on war, political division, or the relationship between governing rulers and the governed, the strongest element of the text concerns the question of religion. Ardashīr was the contemporary leader at the turning point of religious thought in Persia, which would later lead to the preaching of Mani, founder of Manichaeism from Zoroastrianism and borrowings from other religions, such as Christianity. The Testament of Ardashīr echoes this, particularly considering the place of religious doctrine in the empire, and the need for a sovereign power to contain the influence of clerics and those who speak in the name of religion. The major teaching of this text is that political power must not give way to religious leaders; sooner or later they will destroy it.

The three texts we have just described were present for centuries, to varying degrees, in literature of the art of governing. They led to the political epistles of Sālim Abū l-ʿAlāʾ, ʿAbd al-Ḥamīd ibn Yaḥyā al-Kātib (d. 750) and Ibn al-Muqaffaʾ, the first that testify to the formation of political knowledge at the beginning of Islam. Paradoxically, despite the early date of this literature, it is often approached only from an esthetic point of view, as a major focus of the birth of Arab prose (the adab literary genre) or, when addressed from the point of view of political thought, with an emphasis on its sources and provenance, rather than on the influence it would later have on the formation of the art of governing in Islam. This explains why the question of the Greek or Persian origins of work on the art of governing in Islam has so often been addressed by scholars. Zakeri’s significant work on al-Rayḥānī (d. 834) has shown the extent of the borrowings by Arab prose writers from Andarz Persian literature,⁷ as well as the discussions relating to the origins of the Letters from Aristotle to Alexander the Great. Notably, the famous “On the Government of the Cities” has been the subject of an exciting debate among scholars about its authenticity and the possibility of its being a genuine work of Aristotle.⁸ This dimension, dealing with the reception of ancient texts, is undeniably fundamental, and many scholars are eager to show the links between late antiquity and the beginnings of Islam. However, in this article it is the influence that mirrors for princes exercised over future government treatises, and the exploration of the content of these texts from the perspective of political thought, that will be studied: the relationship between politics and religion, the identity of the genre of mirrors for princes, meditations on the art of self-government, and more.

Beginning in the 8th century, these texts fostered the reflections of later authors, and led to the maturation of this major political genre, rightly assimilated to the universal genre of mirrors for princes. In his bibliographical work al-Fihrist, Ibn al-Nadīm (d. 990) mentions nearly twenty titles written between the 8th and the 10th centuries that deal explicitly with politics and the government of the state. The number of books dealing with statecraft and the education of statesmen would double or even triple if we take into account texts that address the history of kings and caliphs, treatises devoted to viziers (wuzarāʾ) and secretaries (kuttāb), or different versions of the same text, such as the translation of Kalila and Dimna by al-Ahwāzī, a transposition of the same text into poetry by Abān al-Lāhiqī, or the imitation that was made of it by Sahl ibn Hārūn in his book Thaʿla wa ʿAfrāʾ. In the period between the eighth and tenth centuries alone, the quantity of texts relating to the art of governing is impressive, and reflects the dissemination of the literary material found in The Testament of Ardashīr or Kalila and Dimna into many other books, such as Ibn Qutayba’s (828–889) ʿUyūn al-aḫbār or Ibn ʿAbd Rabbih’s (860–940) al-ʿIqd al-farīd.

This literature, most often produced by secretaries of the administration, is a pillar of the adab, the aim of which is to inculcate universal rules of good conduct in the individual, predisposing him to a successful life in society and giving him the means to instruct himself. While they are primarily addressed to princes in the form of advice, these writings also reveal their authors’ desire to theorize the art of governing, and to describe political science. After this founding period, we witness the emergence of genuine political treaties. In taking such titles as “Naṣīḥat al-mulūk” (advice to kings), “Ādāb al-mulūk” (the rules of conduct of kings) or “al-Ādāb al-sulṭāniyya” (the rules of the conduct of political power), many texts such as that of the pseudo-al-Māwardī⁹ in the 10th century, al-Māwardī in the 11th century,¹⁰ or al-Ṭūsī in the 13th century¹¹ bear witness to changes in the genre, and its transformation during the classical age of Islam into a true repository of political science. From the 10th or 11th centuries, political treatises were better structured than the above texts, divided into parts and sub-parts, and aimed at both a theoretical demonstration of ideas and their thoughtful illustration through historical anecdotes and wisdom literature; at a later stage, at the end of the classical age of Islam, i.e. in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries), we witness the birth of great summaries by Ibn Khaldūn (1332–1406), Ibn al-Azraq (1427–1491), and al-Qalqašandī (1355–1418).

This literature deals with the prince’s interests (ensuring a glorious reign, retaining his power, defeating his enemies through cunning or war), as well as goals centered on his subjects (security, prosperity, justice, happiness). Their diverse and sometimes conflicting rationalities drew their patterns and paradigms from many disciplines and textual genres that should be studied in a way that respects their internal codes, while highlighting their complementarity. Hence the interdisciplinary nature of these texts, consisting of philosophers’ maxims, historical accounts of great sovereigns, religious quotations, poetry, and developments in political science, its parties, divisions and subdivisions. These texts, based on advice given to princes (Fürstenspiegel), also exist in other ancient and medieval cultures, as in China or Europe. They constantly overlap with Platonic and Aristotelian-inspired literature dealing with practical philosophy, and attempt to determine the epistemological and cognitive status of this philosophy as opposed to logic or metaphysics. Thus, their interest lies, among other things, in the richness of their content, which integrates philosophy (theoretical reflections on politics and on the rules for the conduct of princes and the leadership of the state), history (knowledge of the lives of great sovereigns) and literature (in many forms, such as testaments, maxims, and poetry).

Indeed, the genre of the ādāb sulṭāniyya or ādāb al-mulūk (the equivalent to ars regiminis in the Western tradition, widely represented by mirrors for princes until Machiavelli’s Prince) was formed by the use of heterogeneous and disparate elements: maxims and quotations attributed to the scholars of antiquity and Islam; accounts of the wars, tricks and ploys of great rulers like Alexander the Great or Ardashīr; descriptions of political institutions and state offices (ministries, chancelleries, taxes, diplomacy, etc.); instructions on court etiquette and administrative or diplomatic protocols that must be observed; assertive developments on the virtues of the perfect prince (justice, prudence, resolution, deliberation, magnanimity, liberality, etc.); considerations regarding the relationship between the ruler and his subjects, and the respective duties and rights each party fulfills or enjoys; definitions of the fundamental concepts of government and leadership (tadbīr, siyāsa) as well as of power or empire (sulṭān, mulk, dawla). All these elements and many other literary forms and philosophical content were brought together, giving rise in about the 10th century to detailed government treatises, a genre that spanned centuries and continued through to the beginning of the 20th century, with a treatise dedicated to Sultan Abdulhamid II (1842–1918).

2 Politics and Religion

Exploration of the genesis of the mirrors for princes leads to a fundamental question related to the cultural identity of these texts. Do they embody the classical culture of Islam, despite their foreign origin? Were they integrated into the new religious fabric, or did they evolve concurrently with authentically “Islamic” traditions, without really influencing political concepts, power practices, or representations of the best government? These questions have been asked by many modern intellectuals, starting in particular from the analysis of current political situations in the countries of the Muslim world. In the 1950s, Badawi affirmed that mirrors for princes were one of the reasons for the maintenance of archaic forms of power in the Arab world. In the introduction of Miskawayh’s Al-Ḥikma l-ḫālida (Perennial wisdom), he explains, beginning with the study of maxims, the literary form that dominates these texts, that the genre of maxims and quotations spread in the Middle East because of the sacralization of the word in Middle Eastern religious traditions.¹² Because of their repetitive and monotonous nature, these texts have prevented creativity and constituted an obstacle to the introduction of rationalism into the political practices of the Middle East. Later on, at the beginning of the 21st century, M-A. Al Jabri systematically examined the moral and political philosophy of Islam, into which mirrors for princes, very much inspired by the Persian imperial model, are accused of introducing the value of blind obedience, perpetuating the mechanisms of subjugation to the state.¹³ The authors of these texts were therefore intellectuals in the service of the maintenance of domination, rather than of criticism or the defense of the interests of the governed. A withdrawal from authoritarianism, therefore, would require the deconstruction of the despotic intentions and mechanisms contained in mirrors for princes. Other readings go even further in the view that these texts, like Greek philosophy, cannot be considered “Islamic”, as they do not adhere to the political model advocated by the Prophet and applied by his Companions.

These examples demonstrate that in the modern era, literature on the art of governing has been caught in the trap of cultural and religious identity. Its interpretation has suffered from anachronistic approaches and considerations.¹⁴ Only recently has the work of specialists in work on the art of governing allowed us to discard the negative vision that for decades has accompanied the reception of these texts. This has led to an appreciation of their true value, far from the ideological instrumentalization and massive interpretation of Islam’s intellectual heritage. Any new reading of these texts, then, must focus on scientific issues going beyond the limits of the approaches criticized above, and must endeavor to demonstrate the value of these texts by studying them in their contexts, with the notional and conceptual apparatus they mobilize and the effects they aim to produce in the training of statesmen. We may therefore remark that sources that were initially foreign were soon inserted into quotations, references, and narrative canvases, which gradually acquired a special character that made them an integral part of classical Islamic culture.

There are many testimonies to the integration of this literature into the Arab cultural fabric from the beginning of Islam. At the height of their imperial ideology, in which they were the heirs of the ancient Persians, the Abbasid authorities institutionalized the use of certain books as “manuals” of political science, used for the basic training of the young princes. Al-Mubarrad (826–898), for example, mentions that the Caliph al-Maʾmūn (786–833) ordered the tutor of al-Wāṯiq (d. 847), the heir to the throne, to help al-Wāṯiq memorize Kalila and Dimna, in addition to the Koran and the Testament of Ardashīr.¹⁵ Even under the Umayyads, described as the founders of an “Arab” Kingdom, as opposed to the Abbasids, who had massively integrated their Persian allies (al-Mawālī) to meet the universalist and egalitarian requirements of Islam’s initial message, we observe that interest in government and administrative knowledge was being expressed by the beginning of the 8th century, that is, halfway between the foundation of the dynasty by Muʿāwiya in 661 and its fall in 749. It can even be argued that this desire to be seen as the masters of the East was expressed in the political field through early research and the translation of the founding texts mentioned above, in the same way that it was expressed in the field of art through imitation of the artistic achievements of the Romans in Quṣayr Amra.¹⁶ The mastery of the art of governing in this case not only reflects the desire to gain access to ancient literature on the government of empire, but also indicates, artistically and symbolically, the desire to develop the signs and insignia of triumphant power.

Beyond the genesis of the Arabic tradition of mirrors for princes, one of the important aspects that we must highlight is the place that religion occupied in texts on the art of governing, and the attitude that the authors of these texts had towards struggles among religious doctrines, theological movements, sects and denominations that emerged after the Discord (Fitna) in the mid-7th century. The authors mentioned above, as well as compilers like Ibn Qutayba (ʿUyūn al-aḫbār) or Ibn ʿAbd Rabbih (al-ʿIqd al-farīd), who wrote the first encyclopedias of adab (rules of conduct) using the material found in Kalila and Dimna and the accounts about Persian kings or Alexander the Great, are contemporaries of authors who wrote about political discord and developed theses around the question of the best imam. Generally entitled Kitāb al-imāma (On the Imamate), these texts deal with the events of the first schism in Islam, and mix their reading of history with partisan considerations and ideological struggles among factions, parties and doctrines. The purpose of these treatises about Muslim rulers is not really to define the prince’s statecraft nor how to make a population happy and prosperous, but rather to defend a particular politician (ʿAlī, Muʿāwiya, Abū Bakr and ʿUṯmān), showing that he is more worthy than others to assume the legacy of the Prophet, and to embody continuity with the Prophet’s perfection as the leader of the first Muslim community. Although they are not directly part of the corpus of mirrors for princes, these texts must, however, serve as a point of comparison with the literature on the art of governing that was developing at the same time, and that took a resolutely secular course. In the 8th century, therefore, reflection on politics took the form of theological treatises about the imamate or followed the paths of scientific research on government and the conduct of public affairs. The place of religion, dogmas and theological polemics in these two political approaches was not the same at the very beginning of Islam and later. As a result, the research community has long been divided between those who believe that politics in Islam is in thrall to religion¹⁷ and those who think it enjoys a certain autonomy, opening up forms of secularized political thought.¹⁸ Our approach is part of the second reading, and will seek to deepen the analysis of the concrete conditions that enabled the emergence of such secular thinking. Recent work on the mirrors for princes, whether devoted to particular authors¹⁹ or dedicated to the themes in these texts,²⁰ has made decisive progress in this direction, analyzing the secular dynamics that animate them.

It should be noted that the word “dīn” here means not so much religious laws (it is the word “milla” or “sharīʿa” that expresses this meaning) as moral habits and social traditions rooted in a society or a community. By keeping a nation to good morals and commendable habits, and acting without shocking it in its beliefs or provoking innovations that could lead to revolt, the prince ensures that power is maintained. It is for this reason that “dīn” (religion) is the best foundation, and that it presents itself as a solid support to power, more than force or money, as al-Māwardī says,²² and even more than firmness or passions, as Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ claims in a famous aphorism. If power must safeguard religion, it is because religion ensures the subjects’ obedience. But as soon as obedience is acquired, the prince can devote himself to the ideal of political justice required and supported by religion, and it is in this ethical sense that religion can be regarded as the foundation of sovereignty. A system of reciprocal duties between the prince and his subjects is thus set up. The king Ardashīr establishes this equation between the duty of justice that binds the Prince and the duty of obedience incumbent on his subjects, claiming that “when the king renounces justice, the people renounce obedience”.

We can go further in this analysis by arguing that the texts of al-ādāb al-sulṭāniyya, while focusing on practical issues (like the means of ensuring a fair government and of achieving security and prosperity for the population), contain an in-depth reflection on religion as a moral link between people. This aspect, linked to the very condition of civil society, can be discovered through the presence, in al-Māwardī, al-ʿAbbāsī and Ibn al-Ṭiqṭaqā, of robust deliberations on the status of religion within the City and on the attitudes that princes must adopt towards religious doctrines, the divisions they generate, and the real problems they pose to their governments. This dimension relating to the social and political status of religion is a major focus of scrutiny in the mirrors for princes, and this enables us to see how, within Islam and through its intellectual traditions, the link between dogma and individual and collective conduct, or the relationship between religious beliefs and worldly actions, might be contemplated—various points that feed the complex issues of the theological-political problem.

What argues in favor of this interpretation is that the maxims are not illustrated exclusively by the figures of the pious or the caliphs of Islam, but above all by men like Alexander the Great, whose military action was motivated, according to these readings, in part by his desire to spread justice among conquered peoples and to realize an ethical ideal, perceived as universal. Our reading is corroborated by the fact that texts in mirrors for princes mention another maxim that apparently denotes the opposite of that previously cited. It is said in many books that “Sovereignty can endure despite impiety, but cannot be maintained in injustice”.²³ Quoted in several mirrors and even in some texts written by theologians, this maxim serves the argument that religion could not be regarded as the criteria of good rule in mirrors for princes unless we understand it as an ideal of ethical virtues like justice, prudence, temperance and liberality.²⁴ These virtues attributed to religion are therefore marked by a secular approach that made it possible to integrate all the Greek or Persian heritage of this field and to realize the objective of building a scientific discourse on politics, as we will see.

3 Generic Identity of the Mirrors for Princes Texts

The discussion of the cultural identity of the texts on the art of governing necessarily leads to the question of their generic identity. This dimension is explored with great care and skill by al-Azmeh in his book Muslim Kingship. Al-Azmeh has attempted to go beyond the identity considerations discussed above, making the entirety of the political literature produced in the classical age of Islam a reflection of ancient political models cultivated in the Middle East since Mesopotamian or Egyptian royalty. Fürstenspiegel written in Arabic in the 8th century influenced other genres, philosophical and legal, including the writings of theologians (ʿulamāʾ), at the end of the classical age.²⁵ This thesis, which has the merit of explaining the continuity between late antiquity and the beginning of Islam, also has the advantage of going beyond sterile discussions about the identity of these texts and their relationship to foreign sources. Nevertheless, it does pose the problem of the very possibility of the evolution of political thought or innovation in this area. Apart from being treated as a homogeneous block in which theologians’ texts on politics were not distinguished from the texts of philosophers, jurists or historians, works on the art of governing produced within Islam, according to this approach, had become a pale shadow of earlier versions, and the study of their originality is already compromised by the fact that they could only reproduce paradigms and patterns already rooted in the ancient culture of the region.

Unlike this thesis, which approaches politics as an undifferentiated whole, we think that the Siyāsa šarʿiyya treatise of the theologian Ibn Taymiyya (1263–1328) and the Aṯār al-Uwal of his contemporary al-ʿAbbāsī cannot be set on an equal footing. Distinguishing between the textual genres that addressed politics is necessary to show the internal coherence of each tradition, its specific qualities and irreducible dimensions, making a philosophical approach something different from a theological one. It also enables us to study the authors’ assumptions, their sources, their arguments, the goals they pursue in discussing political subjects, and above all the methodology they employ, so that the knowledge they produce could reach the highest level of scientific thinking, or, on the contrary, fall into overtly ideological considerations.²⁶ In general, the political thought of Islam is often reduced to a single and undifferentiated referent, the one that relies on its theological specificities (imamate, caliphate, sharia, jihad, etc.). This approach has also been propagated by ideological discourses produced within the contemporary cultures of Muslim countries and then relayed by the media, including in the West. The result has been the construction of a vision far removed from the historical realities and textual heritage of the classical age of Islam. For this reason, adopting rigorous methodological criteria for differentiating texts will help us to understand them better, to highlight the epistemologies from which they originate, the intentions of their authors, and the public for which they are intended. Moreover, we know that in the Western tradition, Machiavelli, for example, does not approach politics as would a jurist of the same period, like Jean Bodin, nor according to the same methods and postulates as a philosopher heir to the Platonic tradition, like Thomas More, and even less like a theologian such as Bossuet a few decades later. Authors can, then, be distinguished according to their approach, which can be philosophical, theological, literary, legal, etc. These remarks also apply to the civilization of classical Islam, where the same plurality can be found in the approaches to politics as a fundamental category of human existence and its different manifestations in society and in history.

Before exploring the specificities of the mirrors genre, let us recall that a single author, without being redundant, can write several books on politics, each time starting from distinct skills and respecting the codes specific to each tradition. What becomes clear, then, is that sometimes the same author feels the need to write about politics from a lawyer’s perspective, or to adopt a position on the same issues as a specialist on ādāb sulṭāniyya. The example of al-Māwardī demonstrates how an 11th-century thinker could address political issues from a legal-institutional point of view, in the Ordinances of Government, then from a historical-literary perspective, in The Ethics of the Prince and the Government of the State, and then combining the two, as in his book Rules for the Vizierate. In taking different views on politics, al-Māwardī emphasizes the complexity of this field, while showing himself capable of respecting the internal codes of each textual tradition. This approach gives the texts their unique specificities, respecting the purposes assigned to the genre to which they belong. In preventing them from being regarded as a single homogeneous block, we will be able to consider the diversity of political productions in the classical age of Islam, without losing sight of their unity.

By questioning the specificity of the writing style adopted in literature on the art of governing, we could then emphasize the singularity of the genre, which is sometimes lumped together with popular philosophy (as opposed to a scholarly philosophy accessible only to a restricted elite), sometimes with historical literature (because it relies on exempla), and more often than not with “Belles-Lettres” literature (due to the presence of forms such as testaments, epistles, or poetry, but also because of the care given to the style and the art of writing in general). The combination of these diverse elements makes the mirrors an original genre, whose essence combines many different registers. This can be illustrated by one of the last examples of this literature at the end of the classical age of Islam, Nasirean Ethics by al-Ṭūsī, whose Arabic version, coming from Persian, was written in the 14th century by al-Ğurğānī. The text divides political science into the categories of self-government, domestic government, and city government (this is the subdivision of practical science found in most epistles on the subject); it combines rigorously philosophical elements going back to Plato, Aristotle, Miskawayh and al-Fārābī (theoretical study of virtues, reasons that lead to civil association, types of political constitution), with analyses from ādāb al-mulūk, such as how to work in an administration, or the precepts that must be followed to adopt the best conduct in society. Al-Ṭūsī’s book, like many other treatises that await further study, embodies the fusion of philosophical, historical and literary elements within this tradition of works on the art of governing.

Despite significant differences between the contexts in which these texts were written, the structure of the books mentioned, and the means by which the authors came to possess the available material, we can see that the genre has retained the characteristics that set it apart from three other major traditions: that focusing on legal and administrative rules, and modeled on the al-Māwardī Ordinances of Political Power; that addressing the well-being of the population and the government within the virtuous city, as found in the works of al-Fārābī; and finally the theological tradition of the imamate, which remained dependent on a reading of the history of discord between the Prophet’s Companions in the mid-7th century. Strictly speaking, the ādāb sulṭāniyya are distinct from these three traditions in terms of the tools they use and the purpose attributed to the genre. The mirrors are based on the training of the prince, who must learn the types of rationality (ethical, political, military) that will be at the heart of his decisions during the exercise of power. The tools used to instill values and transfer knowledge primarily comprised maxims and stories. Maxims aimed to provide a rule to follow when confronting an enemy, preserving the state, fighting corruption or choosing assistants; as for stories, these were drawn from actions taken by the founders of the empire and from politicians who were elevated as models of intelligence, justice and wisdom. While maxims condensed ideas into just a few words, stories illustrated them in detail, sending a prince’s imagination into the lives of great rulers. However, beyond the differences between the tools used by these texts, we can also see a solidarity between the moral philosopher, who entrusts Plato, Aristotle or Anūširwān with the role of codifying exemplary conduct, and the authors’ use of history as the source of inspiration for political action. The relationship between history and the art of governing is addressed in a surprisingly modern way, as seen in Miskawayh, who, in the introduction to his book Experiences of Nations, states that meditating on historical events will provide politicians with the means to learn valuable lessons about the birth of states, dysfunctions that can affect them, how to reform a bad situation and overcome a crisis, how to achieve prosperity, unite the people, master war tactics, effectively fight an enemy and, finally, how to govern political leaders such as ministers, army generals or state officials.²⁷

This function assigned to the exempla is based on a cyclical conception of history, in which political events of the past must resemble those of the present. Interaction between the two temporal regimes turns the past into a paradigm that the prince, rather than trying to reproduce it on demand, must internalize in order to be inspired by it in how he treats the people, his officials, or his enemies. The notion of experience (tağriba) means the kind of experiences that the prince has not personally lived, but that he could make his own through his reflections on the past.

“All of these events that man keeps in mind become experiences of his own”, said Miskawayh, “into which he is propelled and from which he draws confirmed wisdom, as if he had lived through all of this time, and as if he himself had dealt with these events”.²⁸

Far from leading them to glorify the past, or transforming it into a crushing weight on the present, the relationship that politicians must maintain with the past was to make it an instrument to predict the future and anticipate outcomes. This concept, combining politics and history, is at the heart of the very notion of tadbīr, meaning government and management, and most often interchangeable with siyāsa (politics, conduct); tadbīr is the action that predicts outcomes, and commands a temporality ever focused on future consequences.²⁹

The insistence placed on history as a source of knowledge for political action shows that the tradition of the art of government in Islam follows a path marked by realism and positivity, faithful to an anthropological approach that first studies humankind as it is, then as it should be. This anchoring in a realistic political anthropology gives the texts a surprisingly modern focus, like that of European political treatises of the Renaissance rather than works of the Middle Ages. For example, in Discourses on the First Decade of Titus Livius, Machiavelli explores, in a very similar way to Miskawayh, the need to use ancient models as a remedy identified and advised by doctors for centuries—not reading history for mere pleasure or entertainment, but rather in order to find a way to emulate the greats.³⁰

4 The Art of War in the Arabic Mirrors for Princes

One of the distinctive features of the books on ādāb sulṭāniyya is that unlike the Western mirrors of the Middle Ages, they did not simply give the prince spiritual advice and remind him of correct conduct in accordance with religious law. Such content can indeed be found in some writers,³¹ but most of them regarded the genre as equivalent to political science, whose rules and precepts were to be drawn from the history of great empires and great kings. Such a positive and pragmatic orientation of these texts on the art of governing accounts for a major difference between these and Western mirror treatises, a difference which boils down to the question of war. For while this question was practically absent in Western texts, and while Machiavelli deeply shocked political and philosophical tradition when he painted a new portrait of the prince, henceforth armed and chiefly concerned with war, in the Arabic tradition the theme had been central in the writing of mirrors as early as the 8th century. In certain texts, such as Kitāb al-tāğ (Book of the Crown) attributed to al-Ğāḥiẓ, or Kitāb al-siyāsa (Book of politics) by al-Murādī, the 11th-century Andalusian writer, one can indeed find short chapters on war and on the importance of stratagems in military strategy. In larger treatises like Sirāğ al-mulūk (Lamp for Kings) of al-Ṭurṭūšī (1059–1126) or al-ʿAbbāsī’s book Āṯār al-uwal fī tartīb al-duwal (Traces of the Ancients in the Preservation of the States), the theme of war takes up much more room, while other works deal exclusively with military strategy, weapons, and stratagems employed by the great monarchs to defeat their enemies at a lesser cost. Luṭf al-tadbīr fī siyāsāt al-mulūk (The Delicateness of Government in the Policies of Kings), written by al-Iskāfī (d. 1029), and al-Harawī’s al-Taḏkira al-Harawiyya fi l-ḥiyal al-ḥarbiyya (Memorandum on War Stratagems), dedicated at the beginning of the 13th century to one of the Ayyubid princes who succeeded Saladin, are rooted in the spirit of the ādāb sulṭāniyya, particularly as far as the themes of advice, the prince’s skills, and espionage are concerned, but also offer valuable information on strategy, army divisions and, among other things, assault, defense and siege techniques.

These texts are characterized by a backdrop of historical reflection, giving them the realistic and positive character found in several other traditions of political thought, such as those of Thucydides or Machiavelli. Most chapters on the art of warfare in the mirrors for princes open with a chapter urging the prince to show prudence and suspicion even when he feels firmly established in his estates. The authors generally write an introduction to these treatises on the development of “haḏar”, the fact of being cautious about something, of being constantly watchful and wary. The prince must always be vigilant even when the situation is completely safe; he must be suspicious of his soldiers and generals, and not place too much trust in them, and he must be prepared for a possible betrayal on the part of his collaborators. The choice of this virtue, which can be considered as the cardinal virtue of the political chief, may be accounted for by the overall view of humanity pervading the texts of mirrors. Although no pessimistic or optimistic anthropology describes human beings as naturally good or evil, the authors insist on the idea that they are constantly tormented by baser instincts that often prevent them from acting as reason dictates. These remarks on human nature do not necessarily imply an essentialization of human beings, but that such passions as jealousy, envy, and the craving for glory are constantly at work and not easily stifled, especially in political circles. Because evil passions are rooted in human nature, all political constructions are artificial and carry within them the seeds of their own destruction. The feeling of envy is that most often described as the source of a whole range of actions and types of behavior responsible for permanent conflicts within society.³² These ontological considerations give rise to a vision present in the mirrors, namely that conflict is permanent and latent within society. Therefore, in concrete terms, we live in a permanent state of war, as conflicts are consubstantial with politics. The acute awareness of this phenomenon in the mirrors leads the authors to think that political power is in constant need of maintenance and preservation. As the chapters on the preservation of power show, this implies that power suffers from some original flaw that requires that it be forever re-established and renewed, and that this is more important than the simple fact of conquering or seizing power.

The knowledge of the nature of those human passions that are a constant source of conflict aiming both at constructing and deconstructing the political bonds thus encourages the prince to make warfare his primary concern. Suspecting the ambitions of rivals both at home and abroad, he must be ready to face dangers, and, to do so, to assemble the necessary means in preparation for the event of war. At this point in the study, it might be thought that we are dealing with a tradition praising the merits of war, because it sees enemies everywhere and, to a large extent, reduces the art of governing to the art of stabilizing the state and preserving power. But in fact, and in spite of this realistic policy based on the amassing of instruments of power, war must be considered the final resort, and should be initiated only after the prince has exhausted every resource of intelligence and diplomacy that might enable him to solve the conflicts peacefully. This doctrine, which seeks by all possible means to prevent the wheels of war from rolling, advocates peaceful relations (avoid attacking other states or provoking other, rival princes) and systematic recourse to diplomacy, without, however, rejecting a possible intensification of the conflict and declaration of war. This leads to the elaboration of a strategy to construct peace while insisting on the need to prepare at all times for war.

What characterizes the treatment of this topic in the mirrors is that the authors take the force of intelligence, not the force of weapons, as the absolute benchmark for success or failure in war. The importance of stratagems in this tradition fits into a universal literature, dating back to antiquity, that praises politicians and strategists who were able to achieve victory through intelligence rather than force. How is this notion presented in the Arabic political tradition, and how does it fit in with the general strategic system? First, the notion of stratagem is not precisely defined. Instead, the authors underline its protean character; it includes, as al-Murādī writes, all “that thought and experience produce”.³³ Looking up the etymology of the word in Arabic, we see that the root ḤYL refers to turning something around in order to reach a goal. It has to do with hedging, looking for roundabout ways, not getting straight to the point, using indirect means to achieve objectives. According to al-Murādī, the highest degree of strategy consists in seeming to be the exact opposite of what someone really is.³⁴ The prince must look incompetent, silly, unintelligent, when in fact he is in complete control of the ins and outs of the fight. The gap between being and seeming is welcome in this sort of situation because it creates surprise and has a totally unexpected effect. It is a form of hypocrisy and duplicity with nothing pejorative about it: this is not a question of feigning virtue or moral rectitude, but of making the enemy believe the prince is completely naive, overtaken by events and ignorant about warfare, when in fact he is controlling the situation perfectly and is only awaiting the right moment to act effectually.

The lion and the fox represent the two criteria of the politician’s action, namely force and tactics, and, according to Machiavelli, it is because men are bad that princes may be justified in resorting to these tactics, and have the right to simulate and dissimulate. Machiavelli broke new ground in the Western political tradition in describing what he calls the “effectual truth” of politics, in spite of the Christian moral legacy and the teachings of humanism, both of which strongly oppose this vision of policies that resort to unjust behavior to achieve their ends.

This leads us to the last point, the defense of the superiority of stratagems over force. In the wake of Kalila and Dimna, which is a veritable plea for their use, al-Murādī declares that subtle stratagems are more efficient than material means. To those who wish to rank among great men, force alone does not suffice; it must be supported by intelligence. These texts of the Arabic mirrors are thus closely akin to the universal literature that since antiquity has described the beauty of stratagems, possibly because of the belief in the superiority of mind over body, of art over brute force, of subtlety over crude means. A cunning man is an expert schemer; he is clear-sighted, capable of anticipating the moves of his adversary, creating surprise, winning through methods that are not considered important, or trapping or deluding an enemy to get rid of him. All this is the product of a form of intellectual refinement that humanizes warfare and keeps it away from the barbarity resulting from the clash of weapons.

5 The Politics between Art (technè) and Science (épistémè)

Strictly speaking, the ādāb sulṭāniyya are distinguished by the desire to describe the outlines of political science and the universal precepts that guide it. The goal of this science is to educate the prince so that he can learn the different types of rationality (ethical, political, military) that lie at the heart of the exercise of power. The genre of the art of governing is based on lessons from history (exempla) and on the teachings of philosophers (maxims), and provides criteria to differentiate among other approaches to politics. But what about the epistemological status of this field? And if history provides authors with concrete examples of political anthropology, how can this knowledge be compared to other disciplines that claim to establish normative standards for human action and define the good and the bad, the just and the unjust?

The texts entitled “On politics” or “On Government” (Kitāb al-Siyāsa) answer these crucial questions. Their aim is to define politics and to demonstrate that it is the true architectonics of the field of practical philosophy, along with self-government (ethics) and domestic government (oikonomia, economics). In the strict sense of the term, political science or civil government (al-ʿilm al-madanī) is, then, what relates to the association between individuals within the City, to the types of political constitutions, and to the administrative and general conduct of the state. But in the general sense of the term, politics integrates self-government and domestic government, as the art of leading people depends on the ability to lead oneself. Ethical achievement is therefore inseparable from political achievement. “The sovereign must begin by exercising his power over himself, so that he can exercise his power over others in a straightforward manner”. This exhortation by Ibn Razīn al-Kātib to kings in his book Rules for the conduct of kings is the foundation of thought on political government.³⁶ To be able to structure the field of action by others, and to assume the function of “sāʾis” (politician, director) or “mudabbir” (governor, ruler), they must first pass through self-control. It is on the basis of reflection on self-government that precepts are developed on the government of others, who are divided into two spheres—private, concerning the domestic household (wife, children, slaves), and public, relating to the court, the direction of the army and control of the territory, and the various organs of government (secretariat, chancellery, vizierate, diplomacy, etc.).

Stemming from the Aristotelian heritage, this subdivision of politics is present even in the earliest epistles dealing with this topic, as we see in al-Maġribī’s On politics or in the epistle attributed to Avicenna, also entitled On politics. The government of the state therefore remains subject to the same overall requirements of siyāsa and tadbīr. It is part of a system not limited solely to the domain of the state, but refers to a sophisticated culture of government, ranging from self-control and the control of passions to activities on which the life and death of subjects depend (war and peace). The problem is to know whether these tasks are related and whether their exercise requires an ordering and control of the smallest sphere, even attaining the upper reaches of the City and Empire; or whether they are separate tasks. Ibn al-Ṭiqṭaqā considers that links of continuity between these governmental tasks are not mandatory; nor is a certain range in their performance (a good king, according to him, is not necessarily a good ruler of his household, just as an excellent household administrator may not be able to direct major affairs of the state).³⁷ However, most authors of ādāb sulṭāniyya do not discuss activities that are strictly political, i.e. that are devoted solely to the conduct of the state and public affairs, independently of other governmental spheres.

This epistemological status of politics is addressed in a section by Abū Zayd al-Balḫī in a book in which he defines politics on the basis of Aristotelian thought. This section, preserved in al-Tawḥīdī’s book al-Baṣāʾir, defines politics (siyāsa) as a supreme “ṣināʿa” (technè) through which a ruler achieves prosperity for a country and provides security to its people. Al-Balḫī thus approaches the subject, according to its definition, from the system of Aristotelian causes, drawing an analogy between politics and medicine, one of the traits of reflection on the epistemological status of politics. For him, the politician, like a builder or doctor, needs a material cause, a formal cause, an efficient cause, a final cause, and instruments used by craftsmen to work with the materials. To build a house, we need materials (stone, wood, etc.), a representation of the form these materials will take, a builder, an ultimate cause (to take shelter in the house, move in), and finally, the appropriate tools to work with the material. Al-Balḫī applies this schema to medicine and then transposes it to politics.

In the art of politics, he says, the affairs of the subjects the king deals with are the “material”. The form is the targeted use or purpose (maṣlaḥa). It is the equivalent of health, because utility is a form of health, and health a kind of profit, in the same way that damage is disease, and that the latter is, in a way, damage. In this case, the agent is the care that the king takes in supervising the affairs of subjects. The final cause is to maintain profit, and ensure that it prospers. The thing that serves as an instrument of his art is the incentive to take action, and the inspiration to do more. The actions of politicians, similar to the care provided by doctors, are divided into two parts: the first is the ‘taʿahhud’ (diligence that one applies to something with great care, constantly inquiring about its condition), and the second is ‘istiṣlāḥ’ (a pursuit of interest and quest for profit). The first involves preserving what is right, keeping the subjects’ affairs perfectly in order, calmly and serenely, so that these affairs do not deviate from the virtuous form. As for ‘istiṣlāḥ’, it involves restoring well-being and unity, where damage and disorder prevail. These two actions specific to the political art find their equivalent in medicine, which, as policy of the body, involves maintaining health on the one hand, and recovery on the other. And just as all medicine falls under these two parts, the art of politics is reduced to the action of carefully preserving one thing and reforming it.³⁸

In addition to basing political practice rationally on the various points explored above, this definition sets out the appropriate purpose of politics by linking it to the interests of subjects, the generation of any related benefits, and the exclusion of any damage, imbalance or corruption (fasād) that might present an obstacle to this goal. The comparison with medicine shows that politics was the subject of the same epistemological reflections on its status: is it a science (ʿilm), in which axioms lead to certain conclusions and irrefutable forms of demonstration? Or is it an art (ṣināʿa), based on appreciation for the temporal element and the appreciation of contingent factors, upon which the prince’s action, prudence and perceptiveness depend? This extremely exciting component could be studied from metaphors taken by the art of governing from Galenic medicine, Aristotelian noetics, or Platonic psychology. Indeed, there are many sections in the mirrors for princes that deal with the virtues of the soul (faḍāʾil al-nafs), self-government (siyāsat al-nafs), or the rules for self-conduct (adab al-nafs). All these texts combine noetic development (what is the soul?), with biological analyses (analogies between the political body and the human body; cardiocentrism and encephalocentrism), philosophical anthropology (what is happiness, and how can it be achieved?), and the concern to define political virtue (what does it mean to be a good citizen?). This leads to observations on the similarity between politics and medicine, which enjoy the same epistemological and cognitive status. However, this strong relationship between the two disciplines has several dimensions.

Another comparison refers not to the organicist aspects, but to the profession of politics as practiced by a City doctor. Inherited from the Plato’s Republic where the King-Philosopher is the City’s doctor, this point is present in different ways in the texts. In Ibn al-Ṭiqṭaqā, for example, the prince must know the character of the people in order to choose the most appropriate remedy for the conduct of individuals. The comparison between politics and medicine is all the more relevant because the example chosen is that of the humors of the people (mizāğ). This combines both physiological and bodily aspects (within the doctor’s competence) and psychological and spiritual knowledge (linked to the competence of the prince, who instructs the people in virtue and reforms their morals).

Know, he said, that the king is to his subjects what the doctor is to the sick. If the patient’s temperament is delicate, the doctor will soften the treatment; for him, he will make him swallow the unpleasant remedies in things of pleasant taste and will do his best to achieve his goal, which is to heal him. On the contrary, if the patient is of a harsh temperament, the doctor will apply violent, natural and energetic treatment. […] To be able to discern these different states from each other, I mean to be able to recognize the temperament for which threats are sufficient without the need for prison, or for which prison is sufficient without the need for blows; this knowledge requires finesse of mind, accuracy of discernment, purity of heart, completed insight and perfect mental attention. For how difficult it is to distinguish the naturals; and the temperaments and characters, how difficult it is to untangle them!⁴⁰

These definitions establish the univocity of the sulṭān (power), which cannot be ignored due to its necessity, and the plurivocity of the siyāsa (politics), which, as an instrumental and contingent activity, may have widely differing positions and degrees, either in terms of the way it is exercised (good, bad; soft, violent) or the constraints it is subjected to (security, the interests of subjects, the prince’s interests, prosperity).

6 Conclusion

In this article, we have tried to analyze the main characteristics of a literary genre, the ādāb sulṭāniyya, which contains the major expression of political thought in Islam. We have shown to what extent it must not be confused with the purely philosophical tradition that extended Platonic philosophy to the land of Islam through the writers’ reflections on the virtuous City and the Philosopher King (al-Fārābī, Avempace and Averroes). We have also explained how it should be distinguished from the work of theologians (treaties on the imamate) or lawyers (books on aḥkām, legal rules).⁴² The exploration of the nature of this genre has led us to affirm that its pillars are edifying narratives of great rulers and maxims of wisdom relating to the government of the self and others, and to show, from the perspective of the general history of political thought, the major centers of meaning that it conceals. Although the teachings in these texts concern the conservation of power, the art of war, and themes that Western authors of the 17th century subsumed under the concept of “Reason of State”,— which testifies to a modernity before the letter, provoked in Europe by the Machiavellian shock wave—, the fact remains that the Arab mirrors for princes turn away from the question of the organization of power—its division, as well as the study of the constitutional forms in which it must take shape—to focus on governmental issues. Thus ethics and politics are inseparable, and politics is primarily defined by the governmental tasks that make it the art of “conducting the conduct of others”.⁴³ This expression, by which Foucault wanted to show the genealogy of modern governmentality, which was established between the 16th and 18th centuries but whose roots go back to antiquity, meets the very meaning of the word siyāsa or its synonym tadbīr, which is the conduct of a thing or a being in order to achieve a virtuous end. Siyāsa is therefore understood as the global teleological activity that must be carried out in precise steps in order to achieve an end that transcends the particular tasks, and guides them towards a telos that merges with rectitude (al-ṣalāḥ), virtue (al-faḍīla), good (al-ḫayr), prosperity (al-ʿumrān) or justice (al-ʿadl). It is the art of guidance through forms of rationality that are finalized and constantly oriented towards the good of the governed (masūs), not of the ruler (sāʾis).

If the themes relating to the Reason of State are approached, as we have shown, in the art of war, this is not to teach the prince how to crush the people under his dominion, but to show him that this rationality should be integrated into a more general system centered on the realization of the interests of the governed. Siyāsa is the set of techniques, precepts, knowledge and modalities for directing power towards ends that go far beyond the simple logic of domination. One of the maxims used to account for it states that the conduct of the power to command is more difficult than the fact of commanding.⁴⁴ Siyāsa is therefore what, ontologically, fills an empty place called power and determines the relationships between the parties involved in these relationships. Also, although the political art can resort to violence, it is defined mainly as a way to control state violence and remove all claims to supremacy that are not the result of actions aimed at the good of the individual and the group. In this sense, politics integrates resistance to power, which, as the texts state, is most often blind and arbitrary; it is therefore a means of stopping the claim to indefinite growth and confinement in a purely tautological logic. “Anyone who is powerless in politics (siyāsa) cannot reach a preeminent rank (riʾāsa)”, says one of the political maxims. In promoting these fundamental concepts from this point of view, the Arab mirrors for princes join the Western tradition of “ars regiminis”, for despite their divergences and their distinct trajectories, the two traditions have made the distinction between dominating and ruling, reigning and guiding, one of the most fertile sources for reflection on the art of governing.⁴⁵