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The Prophet Muhammad's seal
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image located by William Garrison, 30 October 2013
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Claiming to channel pure Islam, the Islamic State fell for a long-debunked
19th century hoax
https://newlinesmag.com/writers/ahmed-el-shamsy/
Ahmed El Shamsy is
associate professor of Islamic thought at the University of Chicago
28 Oct. 2021 "New Lines Magazine"
In 1854, a French diplomat named François Alphonse Belin made a bombshell announcement: the discovery of an original
letter sent by the Prophet Muhammad to the governor of Egypt in the seventh
century, complete with Muhammad's personal seal. Biographies of the Prophet tell
us he wrote such letters, but until then it was thought that none survived.
Belin's account of the discovery is thrilling, albeit fictitious. But the
letter's real history - and the histories of other letters purportedly written
by Muhammad that surfaced soon after it - is no less fascinating. The forged
letters passed through the hands of canny businesspeople, eager scholars and
gullible sultans. They were eventually enshrined in the most unlikely of places:
the official flag of the Islamic State group.
According to Belin,
Muhammad's letter had been unearthed by a Frenchman named Etienne Barth l my
when researching in the libraries of Coptic monasteries near the southern
Egyptian town of Akhmim. Belin's account of Barth l my's find is full of
sensationalist flourishes: It depicts Barth l my struggling heroically against
exhaustion and bankruptcy to rescue ancient books from oblivion and bring them
to the light of science. His perseverance was rewarded when he came upon an
Arabic manuscript. Examining the damaged binding, he spied a sheet of parchment
within it and began to pry the binding apart, having recognized the word
"Muhammad" written in an ancient hand. Feverish with excitement, he bought the
manuscript for closer scrutiny. Belin quotes a letter that Barth l my sent to
his family soon afterward, describing his painstaking efforts to decipher the
letter and concluding: "Given the seal and the beginning of the first line, I am
inclined to believe that this parchment is a letter from Muhammad addressed to
the Coptic nation, and that this seal is that of the prophet of the Muslims."
Though trained by the foremost Orientalists of his time, Belin had pursued a
career in the French foreign service, working first as a translator and then as
consul in Cairo and Istanbul. With his scholarly credentials and his prominent
position, Belin's judgment carried considerable clout. The detailed study of the
purported letter that he published contained a transcription and French
translation of the text, which calls on the Christian inhabitants of Egypt to
convert to Islam and proposes dialogue on the basis of shared monotheism.
Belin's description of the document precisely matched the descriptions of
Muhammad's letter contained in early Muslim historical works, such as the ninth
century "Conquest of Egypt" of Ibn Abd al-Hakam. In addition, Belin argued that
the script of the letter resembled the ancient scripts used in the early Quranic
manuscripts that French Orientalists had acquired (by force) during Napoleon's
occupation of Egypt. Thanks, no doubt, to Belin's endorsement, the letter was
bought by the Ottoman Sultan Abdul Majid in 1858 for the staggering price of
500,000 Turkish piasters - equivalent to 73 pounds of gold.
Orientalist
scholars, too, were caught up in the excitement. Although the journal of the
German Orientalist society admitted in 1856 that the letter's authenticity had
not yet been established with certainty, it declared that Belin's thorough study
had made it very likely. Four years later, Theodor N ldeke, in the first edition
of his groundbreaking study of the Quran, claimed that the authenticity of the
letter could not be doubted. Given this overwhelming agreement, the letter's
script was subsequently used to authenticate other texts. For example, in 1857 a
newly discovered cache of copper coins was declared authentic on the basis of
similarities between the script of the letter and that on the coins.
The
first cracks in the consensus appeared in 1863, when another letter purportedly
written by Muhammad came to light. This letter was likewise bought by the
Ottoman sultan. Heinrich Leberecht Fleischer, the doyen of Orientalist studies
in Germany at the time, openly mocked the second letter, writing that "the
Italian who has forged or peddled it must have been born under a lucky star if
he manages to fool truly learned Muslims." Pointing out many crude errors in it,
such as the misspelling of the addressee's name, Fleischer suggested that "the
man wanted to see whether the hen that laid such beautiful golden eggs for the
seller of Muhammad's [other] letter . is still alive."
tracing of a letter
claiming to have been written by the Prophet Muhammad / Courtesy of author
A more extensive and definitive critique came from the Austrian Orientalist
Joseph Karabacek, who worked on the Arabic papyrus collection in Vienna, which
contains some of the oldest documents written by Muslims anywhere in the world.
According to Karabacek, a comparative paleographic analysis - focusing on the
form of the script - of these ancient papyri and the letter to the Copts clearly
showed the latter to be a forgery. The German scholarly community quickly
accepted Karabacek's conclusions. When Theodor N ldeke published the second
edition of his Quran book, he frankly reversed his earlier stance, declaring
that the letters were "definitely not authentic." (British Orientalists, far
behind their mainland colleagues in the study of scripts, held out longer.)
In the Muslim world, the authenticity of the purported letters from Muhammad
went undiscussed for some time, probably because the letters were initially
hidden from the public eye. The Ottoman sultans, who had quickly amassed a total
of four such letters, kept them within their collection of sacred relics (which
also contained items such as Muhammad's tooth, cloak and beard hair) and paid
their respects to them on ceremonious annual visits. Questions were not raised
until 1904, when an article in the Egyptian journal al-Hilal argued that the
letters' script betrayed a crude attempt to imitate early Islamic writing. But
the letters received staunch support from the Hyderabadi scholar Muhammad
Hamidullah, who, in a series of publications from 1935 to 1985, defended the
authenticity not only of the four letters that had been in the sultan's
collection but also of two other letters in private hands.
Hamidullah's
central argument was that neither Muslim nor Orientalist scholars in the 19th
century had sufficient knowledge of early scripts to produce such sophisticated
forgeries, so the letters had to be genuine. But this is not true: Already half
a century before Belin's article, Orientalist scholars - foremost among them
Belin's teacher Sylvestre de Sacy - had studied and characterized the script of
early Quran fragments, which they called "Kufic." Radiocarbon dating has since
established that these fragments do indeed date from the first century of Islam
and comparing them to the letters makes it clear that the latter are fake: The
scribes who wrote them were struggling to imitate a profoundly unfamiliar
script. The baseline of the words is inconsistent, the spacing is off, and the
letters are drawn unsteadily rather than written. Thanks to the internet, today
one can browse dozens of samples of Quranic writing, as well as other documents
and rock inscriptions, from the first decades of Islam. Next to these genuine
samples, the purported letters look like Disneyland castles juxtaposed with
their medieval models. But at a time when few people had access to genuine Kufic
texts, the forgeries had a chance of passing successfully.
The seal at
the end of the letters also raises questions. According to early descriptions,
Muhammad's personal seal contained the phrase "Muhammad, apostle [of] God," with
each word on a separate line, starting with "Muhammad" on the top. The phrase in
this form is attested on very early Islamic coins. But by the 14th century, some
Muslim scholars were beginning to speculate that the word order on the seal
might actually have been the opposite: "God" on the first line, "apostle" on the
second and "Muhammad" on the third. This arrangement would have placed God,
rather than Muhammad, at the top, which these scholars felt would be more
appropriate. The idea was taken up by al-Halabi (died 1635), the author of a
fanciful but enduringly popular biography of Muhammad that featured all kinds of
fictional embellishments. However, as Ibn Hajar al-Asqalani (died 1449), an
authority on reports about Muhammad, pointed out, there is no historical
evidence to support the claim that the seal's text began with "God." It was a
medieval invention.
So the letters are fakes. But who forged them, and
why? Karabacek suspected Egyptian Copts, pointing to a well-known medieval
practice in Christian and Jewish communities of forging letters in which
Muhammad exempts the recipients from taxation. But these medieval letters were
written for an obvious practical goal, their content was unattested in
historical accounts, and they generally claimed to be mere copies rather than
originals. By contrast, the letter touted by Barth l my was marketed as the
genuine one, from the hand of the Prophet himself. It replicated the text of a
known document, mimicked the early Kufic script and was written on parchment
rather than paper (an important detail, since paper was adopted in the Arab
world only after Muhammad's time).
The first suspect must be Barth l my
himself, a keen entrepreneur with knowledge of Oriental languages. He publicized
his find actively among diplomats and academics and succeeded in securing
Belin's endorsement, which facilitated the enormously lucrative sale of the
letter to the Ottoman court. Other suspect figures include two Europeans,
Ribandi and Wilkinson, who acted as intermediaries in the sale, and an Italian
who claimed to have obtained the second letter through daring subterfuge,
traveling across Syria in native disguise (a trope of 19th-century Oriental
adventure fantasies), purchasing the letter under false pretenses. The tales of
these European "discoverers" are full of colorful clich s but remarkably thin on
details. In which monastery did Barth l my find the Arabic manuscript containing
the first letter? From whom did the unnamed Italian buy the second letter?
The formulism and convenient omissions of these stories and the suspicious
features of the letters themselves indicate that the letters were forged in the
19th century by Europeans who had enough scholarly training to produce credible
fabrications as well as the requisite connections and business savvy to turn
them into money. These men took the early historical reports that Muhammad sent
letters to foreign rulers and spun them into artifacts that could pique the
interest of the Ottoman sultan.
After the collapse of the Ottoman empire,
the letters and other prophetic relics in the sultan's collection were
incorporated into the Topkapi Palace museum and displayed as tourist
attractions. They also continued to hold devotional value for the pious, as
shown by a 1920s post-Ottoman pamphlet featuring an image and a Turkish
translation of the letter to the Copts.
But the letters received an
entirely new lease on life in 2007, when the militant group then calling itself
the Islamic State of Iraq adopted a flag that includes an exact replica of
Muhammad's purported seal, copied from the forged letters. In an anonymous
document disseminated online, the group explicitly acknowledged the Topkapi
letters as the source of the seal. To their credit, the militants were aware
that the word order on the seal did not match early descriptions, but they
argued that the discovery of the actual letters made further doubts about the
correct order moot. That the letters might be fake, or that their script was
questionable, was not mentioned.
When the group renamed itself the
Islamic State in 2014 and established its short-lived caliphate, the forged seal
of Muhammad became the symbol of the militants' rule. It not only was used on
the infamous black flag but also branded the Islamic State's considerable
propaganda output and was stamped on its documents. A European Orientalist fraud
was broadcast to the world by a group claiming to be the rightful inheritors of
the Prophet's mantle.
The Islamic State embraced what it thought was
Muhammad's seal for the same reason that the Ottoman sultan was willing to pay
exorbitant prices for Muhammad's purported letters: to claim legitimacy. Whereas
the sultan's purchase of the letters was a continuation of his dynasty's
centuries-long campaign of amassing sacred objects, the Islamic State had little
interest in the objects themselves; it merely sought to harness the symbolic
significance of the seal, which could be easily reproduced and disseminated. It
is, perhaps, understandable that neither the Ottomans nor the Islamic State were
interested in examining the actual historicity of their symbols too closely.
Instead of springing from the pen of Muhammad's scribes in the seventh
century, the letters attributed to him were products of an enterprising class of
men in the age of European colonialism who saw an opportunity to monetize the
growing hunger of museums, libraries and private collectors for historical
artifacts. Although local inhabitants of the Middle East also profited from such
frauds, it was Europeans who occupied the most high-profile and lucrative
positions in this thriving industry. They possessed the resources, the prestige
and the scholarly tools that enabled them to identify and obtain genuine
artifacts - and to credibly fabricate others. The case of Muhammad's letters
shows how unsavory origins could be camouflaged with sensationalist stories of
discovery and scholarly window-dressing to satisfy an audience willing to
believe that they were looking at the real thing. The Islamic State's caliphate
was in no way unique in this regard: Countless postcolonial states were built on
colonial mythologies created and developed by Orientalist scholars. Yet the fact
that the Islamic State - a group obsessed with its own authenticity and freedom
from outside influences - fell for a 150-year-old European fraud is not without
irony.Located by William Garrison, 8 January 2025