Damascus: The City of Noble Merits

I remain convinced that for Islamic educational values to fully take root across the Muslim community, an Islamic governance system must be firmly in place. Such governance reinforces the work of educators through its moral authority and institutional prestige, while curbing the sources of un-Islamic indoctrination that directly contradict Islamic teachings. Uthman (may God be pleased with him) rightly observed that God restrains through sovereign power what is not deterred by the Qur'an alone.

 Consequently, in the absence of Islamic governance today, we will not find an abundance of ideal Muslim preachers who combine devout practice, impeccable ethics, broad erudition, and sound sensibilities. Instead, their numbers will remain small, leaving a substantial portion of those affiliated with Islamic advocacy in ongoing need of oversight, guidance, conceptual correction, and the uprooting of lingering pre-Islamic attitudes and sentiments. These remnants—instilled by secular school curricula—continue to be revived and kept alive by the sensationalist rhetoric of most daily newspapers and the clamor of mainstream radio broadcasts.

Such is Damascus. Suffice it to say that the master chronicler and hadith scholar Ibn Asakir could only capture its virtues, chronicle its legacy, and document the lives of its sons and affiliates across dozens of voluminous tomes.

Where, then, does a chronicler even begin to recount the glories of its figures throughout the ages, and where does he end, when confronted by thousands upon thousands of extraordinary men?

During the Umayyad era, Damascus radiated its influence far and wide in every direction. It was from here that the vision to conquer Andalusia—a crowning pride of Islam—first emerged; from here that armies marched twice to lay siege to Constantinople; and from here that the Caliphate oversaw the conquests across Transoxiana.

Its preeminent scholar, al-Zuhri, stood as the undisputed dean of hadith scholars and jurists across the entire Islamic world, both in his era and for generations to come. Nearly a quarter of the chains of transmission in Sahih al-Bukhari converge and pass through him, linking younger Companions to senior Successors.

And does one truly need a reminder of Umar ibn Abd al-Aziz, his legendary justice, and his profound erudition?

Damascus took pride once more in its scholar, the mentor of al-Bukhari and others, Abd al-A'la ibn Mus-hir, and in his resolute stand during the Mihna (Inquisition) of Imam Ahmad ibn Hanbal. This unsung hero played a pivotal role in anchoring the people of the Levant to orthodox doctrine. Marched to Baghdad weighed down by heavy iron chains, he neither faltered nor cowered, ultimately dying behind bars.

Later, the Zengids and Saladin revived through Damascus the tradition of sacred struggle. Under their banners, heroic scholars arose—from the al-Maqdisi family and beyond. That same enduring spirit remained vibrant among them, resurfacing with defiant valor in the Battle of Maysalun in this past century.

I doubt there has ever been an intellectual school that wielded as profound an impact across Islamic history as the one fostered by Ibn Taymiyyah in Damascus. From its ranks emerged luminaries like Ibn al-Qayyim, Ibn Kathir, al-Dhahabi, Ibn Rajab, and their peers. While the traditional jurisprudential schools may have held greater sway over legal rulings, the collective scholarship of these figures forged a rigorous, comprehensive framework for understanding all Islamic disciplines. Their imprint on historiography, literature, and theological polemics lends immense weight to their legal critiques and comparative textual analyses. I would not merely contend that their legacy remains potent; I would argue that the modern Islamic intellectual revival has fundamentally rested upon the foundation laid by this extraordinary Damascene school.

I doubt the reader needs further elaboration on the illustrious virtues of Damascus and its people. Yet, we recount these historical realities as a preface to highlighting the enduring moral and educational impact left upon a populace nurtured by such a succession of righteous figures, and within a land that fostered such militant and intellectual traditions.

Indeed, the mindset that turns a blind eye to these merits is merely a remnant of regional parochialism, which we reject out of hand. Not a single Islamic metropolis exists without having rendered monumental service to Islam; we take immense pride in them all, and claim kinship with every one. We would not have felt compelled to state such self-evident axioms regarding the bonds of brotherhood and the contours of faith had we not been dragged into this discourse by an oversight from the editorial board of the esteemed Al-Mujtama magazine. We are not targeting an individual writer—who may well possess virtues and noble intentions equal to any Islamic advocate—rather, we are addressing a rare misstep made by our distinguished peers at Al-Mujtama.

As for the reality that numerous capitals have witnessed such political hypocrisy in recent years, it stems primarily from waves of migration. These metropolises have been subjected to two interrelated dynamics that left their blemishes and negative repercussions:

The first factor was the brutality, reckless tyranny, and oppression of military coups. Damascus endured roughly thirty successful and failed coups in just a quarter of a century. With each upheaval, the circle of persecution widened to consume prominent lineages—families of truly resolute men—forcing them into exile across foreign lands simply to save their lives and preserve their honor. This drain persisted until the historic Al-Midan quarter was hollowed of its leading figures. Had the virtue, intellect, and talent of these thousands of exiled Damascenes—now scattered across the Gulf, Najd, the Hijaz, Beirut, Europe, and the Americas—been channeled solely into Damascus, you would have witnessed a reality far removed from its present endurance of tyranny, which you mistakenly dismiss as political hypocrisy. Yet divine wisdom decreed that other nations should flourish through the refinement, civic traditions, and craftsmanship of the Damascenes—only for a rash, hasty commentator like our peer to step forward, disparaging the city and tarnishing its name.

Has any capital infected by the contagion of revolutionary fervor escaped a tragedy akin to that of Damascus? Has our peer ever stopped to inquire about the storied lineages and institutions of sovereign statecraft in post-July Cairo or post-Tammuz Baghdad: where have they gone? And where are the seasoned, self-made cadres of that era now?

The second factor was the migration of Bedouins and inhabitants of remote rural hinterlands into the capital. Initially arriving in search of livelihood and employment, they were soon co-opted by revolutionary parties and socialist syndicates to form the bedrock of their cadres and organizational base, especially as educated elites shunned these movements. This demographic shift bred the very political hypocrisy our writer observed in this capital—a city inherently pure in conduct, chaste in spirit, and untainted at its core. Yet we have never known fair-minded observers to evaluate great metropolises by their hypocrites, their sycophantic crowds, or the rabble chanting in staged pro-regime rallies. Rather, a city is measured by heroes—each worth a thousand men—and by steadfast figures standing alongside them, each worth a hundred. Were this not the true measure, the luminous guidance of Medina would have dimmed when hypocrisy was rampant within it.

Indeed, some of the Successors once pleaded with Hudhayfah ibn al-Yaman (may God be pleased with him) to disclose the names of the hypocrites. He refused, saying: 'Were I to do so, you would be gripped with dread simply walking the streets of Medina, so pervasive are they and so rare are the men of complete integrity.' Yet that pervasive phenomenon left no lasting stain on history, because historic transformations and monumental achievements remain the exclusive domain of faith, uprightness, and profound courage. It is utterly baffling, then, to witness these parochial rivalries still smoldering in so many lands—lingering between Homs and Hama, Cairo and Alexandria, Najd and the Hijaz, Benghazi and Tripoli, among countless other examples.

Among the most bizarre anecdotes related to me was that a similar rivalry once festered between the Iraqi towns of Rawa and Ana, facing each other across the Euphrates near the Syrian border. During the First World War, as British forces advanced, the Ottoman garrison withdrew from the fortress of Rawa, leaving several artillery pieces behind. With the British entry briefly delayed, a few reckless fools seized the moment, declared the 'Free Republic of Rawa' for a single day, and provoked the residents of Ana. Their equally hot-headed counterparts in Ana waded into the Euphrates intent on crossing for a brawl. The fools of Rawa trained the cannons on them, unleashing a thunderous barrage that decimated several of those wading ashore. Shortly after, the British marched in. I had long dismissed this story as mere folklore, a humorous fable, or idle parlor banter—until a trusted, sensible source confirmed its authenticity. Ponder that!