Prof. Dr. Mehmet Özdemir, known for his invaluable studies on the history, civilization, and culture of al-Andalus, is a pioneering figure in his field. In this interview, we had an insightful conversation starting from his journey into theology to the intellectual world of alAndalus and its significance in Islamic history.
Prof. Dr. Mehmet Özdemir, known for hisinvaluable studies on the history,civilization, and culture of al-Andalus, isa pioneering figure in his field. In thisinterview, we had an insightfulconversation starting from his journey intotheology to the intellectual world of alAndalus and its significance in Islamichistory.
Dear Professor, first of all, thank you for welcoming us and taking the time for this interview.During my research on al-Andalus, I have frequently witnessed the pioneering nature of yourwork in this field. We are here to benefit from your extensive knowledge. With your permission, Iwould like to start with my first question:
Professor, if we go back to the beginning of youracademic journey, how did your decision tochoose the Faculty of Divinity unfold, and whatwas your primary motivation for selecting thisfield?
Actually, it is quite a long story, but I can summarize it as follows: I began my professional lifeat the age of 18 as a primary school teacher. I was among the last graduates of the teachertraining schools of that era; after my cohort, these schools were converted into teacher highschools. While teaching in an old village room in Çatakbahçe, a village in the spir district ofErzurum, I also began preparing for the University entrance exams.
Despite the challenges of teaching undervillage conditions, I manage to secure theofficial decision to build a school in villagethat previously had one. However, my trueideal was to pursue higher education. Severalkey factors influenced my move toward thefield of Theology. My initial interest wassparked by the motivation of a graduate fromthe Higher Islamic Institute working inErzurum, and a preacher who visited thevillage once a month, captivating us with hiseloquence. While dealing with the village’sproblems, I studied for the exams using testbooks I had ordered from Ankara. AlthoughHistory and Literature were at the top of mypreference list, I was admitted to the Facultyof Divinity, my third choice, with a high score.
The background of this choice was shaped notonly by those encounters but also by a heritagestemming from my family and the environmentin which I was raised. I belong to a humble andconservative Anatolian family. My late fatherwas a dignified man, known for his piety andhigh work ethic; he was essentially the “mentor”of the village. His religiosity was rooted intradition and sincerity rather than technicalknowledge. In fact, after entering the Faculty ofDivinity, I realized that some of the prayers Ihad learned from my father as a child weretechnically “incorrect”. Yet, at that age, I alsounderstood this: what mattered was not thelinguistic accuracy of the words, but the ikhlas(sincerity) and devotion with which thoseprayers were offered.
Furthermore, my uncle used to embrace me during my primary school years, saying,“My son willbe a mufti”. This was perhaps a foresight that was unconsciously etched into my mind. Eventhough I chose a boarding teacher training school over an Imam Hatip high school in those years,my conservative environment, combined with the religious sensitivity awakened by the figures Iencountered, eventually evolved my path toward this field.
Thank you very much, Professor. You mentionedthat History and Literature were at the top of yourlist. Based on this, it is clear that your curiosity forhistory goes back a long way. So, how did you turnthis passion for history into a professional careerduring your education at the Faculty of Divinity?Furthermore, what were the main factors thatdrew you specifically to the History of al-Andalus,a field that is as ancient as it is fascinating?
Actually, both my orientation toward Islamic History and specialization in the History of alAndalus occurred through events beyond my will; I could say it was entirely directed by theconditions of time.
Initially, my goal from the very first day was to pursue academic studies in the field of Tafsir.However, at the time of graduation, no research assistant positions were opened in branches liketafsir, kalam, or religious education. Since we graduated from a five- year program, we wereconsidered to have completed a master’s degree automatically. The only available option was aprogram in Islamic History. I had to make a critical decision at that point. In fact, I had beenappointed as a teacher to the Erenköy Vocational High School for Girls, but due to theextraordinary conditions of that period and bureaucratic barriers they brought, this appointmentnever materialized. Subsequently I took the exams to become a mufti. Yet, by a twist of fate, theoral examination for becoming mufti and the entrance exam for the Islamic history master’sprogram coincided on the same day and at the same hour. I had to choose between aguaranteed path of civil service or an academic path filled with uncertainties, but driven byidealism. I exercised my choice in favor of academia.
I had even earned the right to attend the Diyanet Haseki Education Center, but I could not gobecause of civil service requirements. When I applied to the Ankara Mufti’s Office for a positionas an imam, I encountered a strange bureaucratic barrier of that period: “Divinity graduatescannot be imams; only Imam Hatip graduates can.” In the end, I was left with a path in Islamichistory that offered no financial certainty but was filled with determination.
Even though my academic adventure began this way, al-Andalus was still not on my hand.During my time as a research assistant, when I reached the thesis stage, my esteemed Prof.Mustafa Fayda - may Allah grant him a long life and perfect health- recommended that studyal-Andalus. Mentally, I was focused on the Sira period, but with my supervisor’s encouragement,I spent nine months doing extensive reading on al-Andalus. As I read, I discover a magnificentworld I had never known. Ultimately, I prepared my PhD thesis on the “MuwalladunMovements”, which focused on the native people of Spain who converted to Islam. Thus beganmy passionate journey into al-Andalus, which continues to present.
Professor, your nine-month journey ofpreparation and discovery is truly fascinating.What were the first sources you consulted duringthis period of extensive reading? Did you turndirectly to Arabic primary sources, or were thereworks in Spanish or other languages that helpedyou open the doors to the world of al-Andalus ?
I didn’t know Spanish at that time, so I began reading directly in Arabic sources. First, Itmeticulously examined Abdulaziz Salim’s book, Tārīkh al-Muslimīn wa Āthāruhum fî al-Andalus,along with the extensive studies of Muhammad Abdullah Enan.
The support of my supervisor, Prof. Dr. Mustafa Fayda, was of vital importance during in thisprocess. In addition to the books and articles he brought back from his visits to Egypt and SaudiArabia, a very special opportunity arose. Thanks to the Saudi Arabia Ambassador to Madrid,who was a maternal relative of my supervisor, a collection of nearly ten volumes-comprisingboth current and foundational works available in Spain-was delivered to us. After carefullyreviewing these sources, my thesis topic started to take shape in my mind.
To deepen my research further, I went to Egypt at the beginning of 1985. There, I not onlyconducted literature research but also had the opportunity to meet the living legends of the era.For example, I met and consulted with Mahmud Ali Makkî, one of the most prominent namesthat comes to mind regarding Andalusian studies. Following those meetings and my research,al-Andalus transformed into an irreversible, lifelong academic journey for me.
Professor, it is clear from your account thatexternal circumstances and “divine coincidence”have played a crucial role in shaping youracademic journey. Looking back at this entireprocess-both in your academic career andpersonal life-is there a specific moment or even ofwhich you can say,“This was the real turning pointthat changed my life completely”? What wouldyou consider the “keystone” of your world in this journey ?
Although it might seem from theoutside that I have moved in astraight line, I have actuallyexperienced very sharp junctionsthat completely changed thecourse of my life. The first majorturning point occurred at the ageof 18, while I was a primary schoolteacher. At that time, I wasengaged, and our plan was tomove to Austria. A different lifewith much better economicconditions was waiting for me.However, with a radical decision, Igave up both that future plan andthat life; I dedicated myselfentirely to the university entranceexams and an academic future. Ido not think there could be a moresignificant rupture the than.
The second major turning point coincided with theday that the master’s entrance exam and the oralexamination for becoming mufti were scheduled atthe exact same hour. This was the most difficultdecision for me, choosing between the “DiyanetCommunity” and “Academia”. I can never forgetthe tension I felt during that period. When theexam schedules conflicted, I went to ourphilosophy professor, Prof. Dr. Hüseyin Aydın, whohad a Diyanet background, to ask if there was anypossible solution. Professor Münir Koçtaş was alsoin the room. When I explained the situation, Prof.Koçtaş scolded me in a stern tone, saying: “This isunacceptable; choose one of them!”. At thatmoment, I did not like the scolding of Prof. Münir;the result was what he said.
In the end, I made that decision myself, and chose to go the faculty for the exam. If I had goneto the mufti exam that day, I would probably sitting before you today as a retired provincialmufti. By choosing academia, I completely redrew the entire direction of my life.
Professor, if you had the chance to bringsomeone from history of al-Andalus back to lifeand have a conversation with them today, whowould that person be? What would be your reasonfor choosing them?
Actually, it is difficult to choose just one name; I would want to bring back two, or even threenames together. Firstly, I would definitely choose Ibn Rushd. Even today, he could be pioneeringfigure in the field of fiqh (jurisprudence). Alongside him, I would add the architect of the maqasididea, al-Shatibi. If I had the right to a third name, I would certainly choose Ibn Hazm. He wasincredibly brilliant, but beyond that, he was a provocative figure. He brought intellectualdynamism to in every environment he entered. We are in great need of his sharp criticism, whichkeeps both society and ideas alive.
I see, Professor. Would you consider adding anyother prominent names to this list from amongthe historians or thinker of that era? For instance,someone like Ibn Hayyan or Ibn Tufeyl?
Among historians, I would absolutely want Ibn Hayyan. The presence of such a historian couldfundamentally change the way we understand the past. Ibn Tufayl is also a great name, ofcourse; however, the philosophical tradition he presents is already embodied to some extent inthe person of Ibn Rushd. Therefore, choosing Ibn Rushd would be sufficient, as he carries thatsame depth with him.
We whould now like to move on to a topicregarding the social fabric of al-Andalus, a subjectthat is still highly relevant today. It is well knownthat Muslims, Christians and Jews lived together inal-Andalus. First of all, how do you interpret thissocial landscape? Was al-Andalus truly as idealand peaceful a society as it is often depicted in theliterature? What were the fundamental dynamicsthat distinguished them from modern societiesand made this experience of “living together”possible?
In fact, the experience in al-Andalus was part of a broader administrative system applied acrossthe Islamic world; it was not unique to al-Andalus alone. However, because al-Andalus servedas a contact point with the West and a conduit for transferring Islamic knowledge to Europe, theregion became the center of the “convivencia” (living together) debate.
Today, within the scope of the European Unionproject, as efforts are made to find ways for differentnations to coexist, historical references are beingsought. However, the experience of coexistence inWestern history was often limited to the lifespan ofindividual rulers and could be broken at any time byarbitrary decisions. In Islamic governance, thesituation was quite different. The status known as“Dhimmi Law” was permanent; a caliph or emircould not change at their own whim. This statuscould only be jeopardized if the non-Muslim subjectsviolated the initial agreements. Therefore, diversecommunities such as Jews, Christians, Zoroastarians,and Yazidsi were able to preserve for centuriesacross Islamic lands.
When we look at Western history, we seethat assimilation was the dominantforce. There is almost no trace left of theancient religions following the fivehundered-year Spanish rule in SouthAmerica. This is because, whenChristianity unified with the state, lifewas often no granted to “the other” inthe name of preserving the purity of thefinal religion. This is the basic logicbehind exile and the creation of isolationdistricts known as ghettos. Today, we donot find a rooted Muslim population inSicily or mainland Spain because theywere either Christianized or eliminated.
Returning to al-Andalus experience, it was a “frontier country” where cultural interactionreached its peak. While under Muslim rule, many Christians imitated to lifestyle, and clothing ofIslamic civilization; yet, when the the roles reversed and Muslims became the minority, they, inturn, came under the influence of Christian culture. To sum up, peace in al-Andalus was notbased on the permission of individuals, but on the permanent status and the foundation of trustprovided by Islamic law.
The invaluable information you’ve shared clearlyexplains the legal foundation of this peace.However, with your permission, I would like toreturn to the striking part of my question. In yourview, was al-Andalus truly as flawless and peacefulsociety as it is portrayed in popular narratives? Ordoes depiction contain a degree of “AndalusianRomanticism”?
Of course, no society is a structure inhabited byangels or devoid of problems; even within a family,arguments can arise from time to time. Theimportant thing here is whether people cab exercisetheir basic rights and freedoms when looking atsociety as a whole. When evaluated by the standardsof that era, we see that fundamental elements suchas the safety of life, property rights and freedom ofreligion were granted by the state. According to fiqh,unjustly taking the life of a non-Muslim is strictlyforbidden in Islamic law, and such actions carriedlegal consequences in practice. Specifically in alAndalus, the fact that conquest were largelyachieved through peace treaties and agreementspave the way for preserving the ownership andreligious rights of the native people.
We must pay attention to a very important point:theoretical discussions in fiqh books and historicalreality do not always overlap exactly. For instance,while some fiqh works contain theoretical rulingsagainst building churches in the cities founded byMuslims, history shows a much more flexible reality.Excavations in Madrid, a city established by Muslims,have proven the existence of a church and even asynagogue alongside the Jewish community.Therefore, a researcher who wishes to understandthe Islamic approach to rights should look beyondtheoretical drafts, and consult direct historicalsources and lived experiences.
Naturally, there werefrictions betweencommunities in al-Andalus,but the state acted as an“organizer”; it did not permitthese tensions to escalateinto major conflicts andmaintained public safety.Although a large part of thepopulation embraced Islamover time, they maintinedrelationships with theirformer neighbours andChristians relatives,continued living in the sameneighbourhoods, andsustained their humanitarianand commercial ties. Inconclusion, while there werefrictions in the details, wecan say that the anexperience of coexistence andclimate of trust prevailed inthe general picture.
Al-Andalus was a ‘frontier region,’ a geographywhere religious sensitivities were exceptionallyhigh. In your research, you mention that thepeople of al-Andalus placed great importance onreligious life—such as performing prayers incongregation—and that officials were evenappointed to oversee it. However, we alsoencounter practices that seem quite radical, suchas the burning of al-Ghazali’s works. Based on this,is it possible to characterize the Andalusianunderstanding of Islam as ‘radical’ or ‘rigid’? Whatwere the fundamental motives behind suchsevere attitudes?
In fact, this attitude is an attempt to form ageneral judgment based on specific examples;unfortunately, it is often preferred by certainideological circles in the West. Especially followingSamuel Huntington’s ‘Clash of Civilizations’ thesis,there has been a concerted effort to establish thatWestern culture is rooted solely in Judeo-Christianfundamentals and that Islam has no place in thisstructure. Accordingly, the thesis is advanced thatpast experiences of peaceful coexistence aremerely a narrative. With the support of someZionist and Orientalist writers, a history is beingreconstructed based on the perception thatMuslims historically oppressed non-Muslims.
Therefore, instead of focusing on selectiveexamples, we need to look at the biggerpicture. There were certainly radical andrigid elements in al-Andalus; however,alongside them, there was an entirelypresent moderate and tolerantpopulation. Defining the general religiousprofile of a society based on a few harshexamples leads us to the wrongconclusions. It should not be forgottenthat if we can speak of a great civilizationin al-Andalus, the architect of thiscivilization was not the radical strain, butthe ‘moderate strain.’
We can identify two fundamental movements in the intellectual world of al-Andalus. The first isthe ‘Ahl al-Taqlid’ (followers of tradition) strain, which was closed to new ideas and sought topreserve the heritage of past masters through imitation. The second is the ‘Ahl al-Tahqiq’(seekers of truth) strain—the moderate and investigative path that built the civilization. Eventssuch as the burning of al-Ghazali’s books were exceptional incidents, mostly limited to theAlmoravid (Murabitun) period when the struggle for existence had become particularly severe.Such events were very few during the eight-century-long history of al-Andalus. To sum up; bothstrains existed, but the civilization-building spirit that developed the region and carried itslegacy to the present was the product of that moderate climate.
We have discussed the rich cultural heritage andthe long-standing Islamic rule in al-Andalus.However, at a certain point, this dominance beganto decline, and with the process known as the’Reconquista’, Christian kingdoms came to rulethe region. What we wonder is this: After living in apeaceful and pluralistic environment forcenturies, what lay behind the exceptionally harshattitude of the Christian kingdoms toward theMuslims? Furthermore, how would you interpretthe 1609 exile decision and the tragedy of theMoriscos in this historical context?
First of all, we must clarify a concept,as this is one of the points I am mostsensitive about. We use the term’conquest’ (fath) only for the movementsof Muslims, as it has a specific religiousfoundation. For the movements of theChristians, it is more accurate to usetheir own terminology,‘Reconquista,’ orterms such as ‘invasion’ and ‘occupation.
The root of the Christian attitudetoward Muslims lies in the fact thatthey viewed Muslims as invaders oftheir homeland from the verybeginning. Until the eleventh century,this idea remained merely an ‘ideal’;however, the fall of the UmayyadState of al-Andalus and thesubsequent fragmentation (the Mulūkal-Tawā’if period) transformed thisideal into an action plan. Witnessingthe internal conflicts among Muslims,the Christians began to ask: ‘Can wetruly take these lands back?’
The real turning point in this process was theoccupation of Tulaytulah (Toledo) in 1085. Followingthis victory, Christian kingdoms began to openly tellMuslims to ‘leave.’ To them, even though Muslimshad been there for three centuries, they were merely’provisional guests.’ The papacy and Christianchronicles of the time advanced this thesis,grounding the idea that not only al-Andalus buteven North Africa was fundamentally a Christianland.
When the Muslims sought support from North Africanpowers like the Almoravids (Murabitun) and theAlmohads (Muwahhidun) to counter this pressure,the intensity and scope of the conflict widened.Battles were no longer confined to the borders; theytransformed into a ‘war culture’ felt across all levelsof society. The fundamental reason for the Christians’increasing severity was that they viewed al-Andalusas their rightful property, yet faced an incredibleMuslim resistance that defended the land until thevery last moment. This mutual resistance, combinedwith the ideological support of the papacy, turnedthe process into a significantly bloody and harshstruggle.
What can you tell us about the Moriscos, whorepresent the most sorrowful chapter of alAndalus history that emerged at the end of theseprocesses? What kind of identity challenges didthe Moriscos endure on the path to the exiledecision in 1609, and was this eliminationmovement merely a political decision or theconsequence of a deep-seated societal hostility?
Moriscos refers to the segment of Andalusian Muslims living under Christian rule who were acceptedas Christian only on paper. We must divide this process into two distinct periods: Until 1502, thecommunity we call ‘Mudejar’ (Müdeccen) could maintain their existence with certain rights. However,starting in 1502—first in Castile, then Aragon, and finally across all of Spain by 1524—this status wascompletely revoked. The state presented Muslims with a single ultimatum: Convert to Christianity orleave the country.
The Christian kingdoms followed a systematic policy of ‘De-Islamization,’ pioneered by figures suchas Ramon Llull. We can examine this policy across three fundamental axes:
1.Spatial and Social Purification: When a city was captured, the first order of business was toimmediately convert places of worship into churches and expel Muslims from the city centers. Toimpose a Christian identity upon the city, the Muslim presence was isolated, and the conversion ofChristians to Islam was strictly prohibited under the harshest penalties, such as confiscation ofproperty or death.
2.Severing of Cultural and Religious Ties: Muslims’ access to religious sources was cut off, and thecirculation of texts was blocked. By the fourteenth century, the people’s connection to Islam haddwindled to a mere ‘sense of belonging.’ Furthermore,‘coercive sermons’ were instituted to forceconversions; a priest or monk would enter a mosque, and the entire Muslim congregation wascompelled to listen.
3.Destruction of Ownership and Belonging: A narrative was established stating, this land was oursall along,’ aimed at uprooting Muslims from their homeland. Here, the ‘Hijrah’ (migration) fatwasissued by Muslim jurists also accelerated the process. These fatwas, suggesting that Islam could onlybe practiced under Islamic rule, led to the rapid emigration of the ulema and the wealthy, leavingthe poor leaderless and defenseless.Ultimately, a heavy policy of assimilation was applied to those who remained. Any contact theMoriscos had with the Ottoman Empire or North African Muslim states was viewed by the SpanishCrown as an ‘internal threat’ or ‘fifth column’ activity. Following the expulsion of the Jews in 1492, theliquidation of the Muslim presence became state policy to achieve total religious unification. Once itwas clear that assimilation had failed, the infamous exile decision was made, based on the idea ofcompletely purging the land of its original inhabitants. The similarity between the policies applied inGaza today and this historical process demonstrates how deeply rooted the strategy of ‘dehumanizing’ or ‘depopulating’ a land truly is.
While discussing the heavy pressure ofassimilation on the Moriscos, it is impossible notto mention the Inquisition. What exactly was therole of this institution in the process oferadicating the Muslim presence in al-Andalus?Was the Inquisition merely a court, or was it acontrol mechanism that infiltrated every cell ofboth social and private life?
The underlying logic was not to execute the condemned as quickly as possible, but to transformthe torture and execution into a ‘cautionary tale’ for society. This mechanism of oppression wasnot limited to Jews and Muslims; it was used with equal violence against Protestants, who werelabelled as ‘heretics’ by the Catholic world. Ultimately, the Inquisition, as an official stateinstitution, transformed into an intimidation mechanism that monitored every cell of society.
The term Inquisition literally means ‘questioning’ or ‘investigation.’ The fundamental function ofthis institution was to identify and liquidate those who deviated from the ‘Orthodox’ mainstreamaccepted by the Catholic Church, or those who appeared to conform while secretly maintaining aclandestine faith.
These courts were initially established to target Jewish converts (conversos). The answer to thequestion,‘Have they truly become Christian, or are they deceiving us?’ was sought by infiltratingthe deepest layers of privacy. From dietary habits to ritual practices, everything was monitoredthrough neighbours, and the Inquisition was activated at the slightest suspicion. Later, the samesystem was applied to the Moriscos (Muslims who were forcibly baptized). A sophisticated’whistleblowing network’ was established by strategically placing Christian families next toMuslim households.
The methods of torture and execution employed by the Inquisition were not merely punishments;they were the products of a narcissistic psychology and a spectacle designed to instil terror inthe community. In particular, the mass cremation ceremonies known as ‘auto-da-fé’ (act of faith)—organized with the participation of the King, the court, and the entire public—represented thezenith of this deterrence.
There is a striking observationregarding the intellectual andcultural heritage of al-Andalus: It isoften said that the two greatestcatastrophes to derail the scientificprogress of humanity were the fallof Baghdad and the destruction ofal-Andalus. The annihilation ofmassive libraries, the burning ofbooks in public squares, andpeople hiding their volumes behindwalls in the hope that they might beread again one day are among themost sorrowful scenes in history. Inyour view, to what extent did thesystematic destruction of thisimmense scholarly heritage trulyalter the course of human history?
Historical judgments can sometimes be prone to exaggeration; therefore, we should analyzethis issue with cold-blooded objectivity. Attributing the extermination of books solely to theChristian world would be an incomplete approach. Unfortunately, our own history containssimilar painful examples. For instance, the renowned 400,000-volume library established byal-Hakam II was filtered by a commission for political reasons after his death; consequently,many works on philosophy, logic, and astrology were destroyed by Muslims themselves. Theburning of al-Ghazali’s books during the Almoravid period or the purging of the school of IbnMasarra in the 10th century are further examples of this internal resistance.
When we examine the attitude of the Christian kingdoms, we see aspecific approach: When they seized Muslim libraries, they chose topreserve works on medicine, mathematics, chemistry, and astrologybecause they found them ‘useful.’ They even translated these intoLatin and utilized them for their own scientific advancement. However,they were far more destructive toward religious texts. When theCrusaders realized they could not easily convert Muslims to their ownfaith, they developed a new method: Disproving Islam using its ownsources. To this end, the Qur’ān and Hadith collections were translated—not out of scholarly curiosity, but to write refutations and initiate an’intellectual transformation.’ While some religious books werepreserved for this purpose, the vast majority were burned in publicsquares as symbols of an ‘enemy religion.’
Today, the El Escorial Library near Madrid still houses a rich collectionof Arabic manuscripts. At one point, there were over 20,000 works, butmost were lost in an accidental fire. This fire should not be viewed asan act of conscious destruction.
In conclusion, while the scientific heritage of al-Andalus wassystematically purged, it would be inaccurate to claim that everythingwas destroyed. Western civilization fed itself from this knowledge.However, it would also be unfair to suggest that the West reached itscurrent level solely because of this heritage. They built today’stechnological civilization by adding their own research, the printingpress, and new technologies onto that foundation, while alsostruggling through their own dark periods, the Inquisition, and theguillotine. This is how civilizations develop—cumulatively.
Throughout your academic career, you have reconstructed every era and every corner of al Andalus in your mind. Now, we would like to ask aquestion out of personal curiosity: If you had thechance to travel through time and personallywitness a single moment or a specific event fromthe history of al-Andalus, which one would it be?What is that key moment where you find yourself saying,‘I wish I could have been there on that dayto breathe in that atmosphere’?
Which moment would I want to witness? It is a difficult question, but I believe I would choose tobe there during the fall of Tulaytulah (Toledo). The rupture that occurred in 1085 was adefinitive psychological threshold for the Muslims of al-Andalus. Until that day, while there wasa conceptual possibility that Christians might one day reclaim these lands, no one believed itwould actually manifest in practice. However, the moment the city fell—as historians put it—theground shook in al-Andalus, and a terrifying sense of doom began to take hold.
What affects me most are the famous couplets by a poet of that period who articulated thisdespair. He cried out;
‘O Andalusians!
Prepare your belongings now,
Staying here is nothing but a grave mistake.
He employed a striking metaphor: Normally, a caftan starts to wear out from its edges, but thecaftan of al-Andalus has begun to tear right from the middle.
Tulaytulah was at the very heart of al-Andalus, acting as its torso. Once the body was broken,the limbs had nothing left to hold onto.
To experience such heavy psychology would, of course, be incredibly difficult, but I would wantto witness it to see that historical lesson in situ. That moment whispers a timeless truth to us: Ifyou cannot manage to consult one another and unite upon a common ground in time, you willhave no choice but to weep and flee when catastrophe strikes. The fall of Tulaytulah was notmerely the loss of a city for al-Andalus; it was the bankruptcy of the collective will to ‘staytogether’.
Professor, at the beginning of our conversation,you emphasized that al-Andalus was not merely a’beginning’ but one of the most magnificent eras inSpanish history. For our final question, we wouldlike to ask about the contemporary reflections ofthis influence: Today, if we were to completely setaside the heritage of al-Andalus, would it even bepossible to speak of Spanish culture, architecture,or even the Spanish language? In your view, howincomplete would the ‘Spanish project’ be withoutthe presence of al-Andalus?
Spain is unthinkable without al-Andalus. To understand this profound connection, one must lookto the nineteenth century—the era when al-Andalus was ‘re-discovered’ by the West.The key figure in this discovery was Washington Irving, a diplomat at the American Legation
Irving stayed at the Alhambra Palace for approximately three months. During his stay, he didnot merely study the stones of the palace; he gathered the collective memory of the surroundingpeople, bringing together parables, ancestral stories, and legends regarding the Muslims.Following this, he wrote his famous work, The Tales of the Alhambra. Through this book,Andalusian civilization became a focal point of fascination in the West. When Western travellerscrossed the Pyrenees and entered Spain, they could not hide their astonishment.While the rest of Europe presented a ‘monotone’ architectural and social structure, they felt theyhad stepped into an entirely different world the moment they arrived in Spain. That difference isthe deep trace of al-Andalus. It was even said that ‘Africa begins in Spain’; ‘Africa’ hererepresenting the unique climate of Islamic civilization.
The influence of al-Andalus is not etched only into stone; it is in every cell of life. Themagnificent grace of its architecture was injected into Spanish aesthetics by Muslim masterbuilders who constructed palaces for Christian kings. Today, the incredible sensation felt by aresearcher entering the Alcázar of Seville (al-Qasr) is, in fact, the undeniable presence of Muslimpalatial life and refinement asserting itself.
When we look at the language, thousands of Arabic-derived words remain alive in Spanishtoday. In social life, the warm nature of Mediterranean people, the tradition of the evening stroll(paséo), and even styles of dress were nourished by al-Andalus for centuries. Indeed, as thehistorian Ibn Hayyan notes, there were Christian kings who—were it not for the crowns on theirheads—could easily have been mistaken for Muslim emirs.
This influence is not limited to aesthetics; we are talking about a technical heritage ranging fromirrigation laws to medical literature. In my research on plague treatises, I observed thatprecautions suggested by Muslim physicians were translated directly into Spanish and Latin,becoming an integral part of European medicine. To sum up: If you extract al-Andalus fromSpain, neither the modern Spanish identity nor that admirable civilizational depth would remain.
It is possible to speak of a ‘denial’ that haspersisted for centuries in Spain—a tendency toignore or refuse to accept the land’s Islamic past.However, today, the tide seems to be turning.What are your thoughts on modern Spanishsociety and the state? Can we say that they arefinally setting aside this deep-rooted rejection andbeginning to make peace with their true history? Isthe legacy of al-Andalus viewed today as a ‘burden’or as a ‘wealth’ for the Spanish identity?
It is more accurate to interpret this situation through the lens of the two main currents incontemporary Spanish society and politics. For the left-wing, liberal, and socialist sectors,reconciling with and accepting Andalusian heritage as a natural component of Spanish identity isa much smoother process. These groups even advocate transferring the management ofstructures such as the Great Mosque of Córdoba from the Church to the local public, whilefighting to preserve its original name,‘Mezquita’.
Conversely, the situation is more complex for the right-wing and conservative sectors. For them,al-Andalus is a ‘yes’ when viewed as a magnificent heritage that generates revenue and attractstourists; however, it remains a ‘no’ when it comes to cultural and religious belonging. Withinthese circles, there is still an exaggerated security concern regarding the notion that ‘Muslimswant to take al-Andalus back.’ As a consequence of this anxiety, even today, when you enter theMosque of Córdoba, you are not permitted to even open your hands for prayer; you remainunder strict surveillance. The ongoing debates over whether the site should be called ‘MezquitaCatedral’ or simply ‘Catedral’ are, in fact, reflections of Spain’s painful process of reconciliationwith its own past.
In summary, Spain is a stage for the struggle between two different perspectives: One sideembraces this heritage, while the other remains on guard, driven by a vestigial ‘Reconquista’psychology. Al-Andalus continues to be the grandest mirror through which the Spanish souldebates and ultimately defines itself.
We thank you for sharing your matchlessperspective on the profound depth of al-Andalusand for dedicating your valuable time to us.Finally, what would you recommend, as a scholarand a historian, to the students of English Divinitywho will be conducting civilization studies on aninternational level? With what kind of intellectualequipment should they set out to carry this greatheritage into the future?
My dear students, first and foremost, you must master your language. However, do not forgetthis: The greatest disadvantage of the English Divinity program is the neglect of core fieldcourses during the language-learning process. If you follow fundamental disciplines like historyor tafsir only through simplified English texts, you will fail to grasp the deep-rooted mission ofAnkara Divinity and graduate with only a middle-school level of knowledge. You must fill thisvoid in your major field courses.
If you aim for an academic future, you must act with a clear plan and program from thismoment on. Language alone is not enough; you must begin learning the methodology of yourchosen field—be it kalam, tafsir, hadith, or history. Establish contact with your professors,request additional readings, and master the concepts and fundamental problems early on. Ourbiggest handicap is the assumption that we become historians the moment we complete thehistory curriculum; however, that process is far more arduous. To expedite this journey, decideon your path by your first or second year and ‘frequent the doors’ of your senior professors. Noprofessor at Ankara Divinity will ever turn away someone who comes to them seekingknowledge; benefit from their experience.
Most importantly, being a scholar of Divinity is not just a profession; it is a mission. You are therepresentatives of this mission within society. The reason for the existence of the English Divinityprogram is to convey the immense accumulation of Ankara Divinity to the world. For this, bothyour language skills and your field knowledge must possess ‘steely’ strength. There is much moreto be said, of course, but I suppose this is enough to express my intent.