Jihād and the Protection of Places of Worship in Early Islam: Between Covenant, Conquest, and a Just Peace ^†

Abstract

This article examines the relationship between jihād and the protection of non-Muslim places of worship in early Islam. Drawing primarily on Qurʾānic verses 22:39–41 and the Covenants of the Prophet, it employs a synchronically comparative framework that analyzes a broad corpus of textual sources, seeking to reconstruct how the early Muslim worldview understood the justification for jihād. It also examines the norms governing conduct after conflict, particularly in relation to treaty-making. The article attempts to make sense of Q22:39–41 within the broader landscape of late antiquity, which was marked by religious persecution and the destruction of sanctuaries under Byzantine and Sasanian rule. The study highlights how clear rules of engagement were articulated in early Islam, including limits on violence and the consequences of treaty violation. It argues that the motivations behind the early conquests cannot be reduced to material interests but rather were guided by a theological and ideological vision linking conquest with the establishment of a just peace, one grounded in the protection of communities, faith, and places of worship through a covenantal paradigm.

1. Introduction

An emerging theme in the field of Islamic Studies is the central position of sacred and temporal Covenants governing divine-human and inter-human relations (see Rane and Zein 2025). Recent scholarship has begun to recover and re-evaluate the Prophet Muḥammad’s Covenants with various Christian, Jewish, and other communities as a neglected strand of normative Islamic thought. Zein and El-Wakil’s (2022a) The Covenants of the Prophet Muḥammad: From Shared Historical Memory to Peaceful Co-Existence argues that these Covenants, when read critically alongside other early sources, articulate a robust Islamic ethic of coexistence and protection that challenges later exclusivist constructions of Muslim–non-Muslim relations. Building on this foundation, Rane and Zein’s (2025) Covenants with Allah: Keystone of Islam develops a broader covenantal paradigm in which Qurʾānic provisions, Prophetic Covenants, and subsequent historical precedents are treated as a coherent tradition that links divine injunctions, political authority, and the security of religious communities. This emerging body of work has repositioned the Covenants from marginal curiosities to central texts for understanding Islamic approaches to justice, pluralism, and interreligious relations.

The present article extends this line of inquiry in three ways. First, it focuses specifically on the nexus between jihād and the protection of places of worship, taking Q22:39–41 as a primary Qurʾānic point of departure and asking how its themes of defensive warfare, sanctuary, and righteous hegemony were interpreted and institutionalized. Second, it places the Prophet’s Covenants in systematic dialogue with exegetical, legal, and historical materials in order to assess the degree of thematic coherence between these documents and wider early Islamic discourses on warfare and governance. Third, it situates these norms within the broader landscape of late antiquity, where persecution, sectarian violence, and the destruction of sanctuaries were common features of imperial practice, thereby highlighting both the convergences and the contrasts between Islamic and non-Islamic approaches to religious difference and the use of force. In doing so, the article applies the covenantal paradigm in a concrete historical field–war, conquest, and the protection of sanctuaries–rather than treating it only as a general ethical framework.

This article proceeds from two principal premises: first, that the Qurʾān as we have it today represents an accurate transmission of a sacred scripture that first appeared in Arabia in the seventh century; and second, that the Covenants of the Prophet Muḥammad are, by and large, faithful replicas of originals issued during his lifetime.1 On this basis, it analyzes historical sources thematically rather than chronologically to situate the protection of non-Muslim places of worship within early Islamic discourses on jihād and governance. Sūrat al-Ḥajj (The Pilgrimage), the 22nd chapter of the Qurʾān, is believed to have been revealed either at the end of the Makkan period or right after the Prophet’s emigration to Madīna in 621 at a time when he began taking a more political role.2 The three themes expressed in Q22:39–41 are as follows: (1) permission to fight in response to persecution, i.e., jihād, (2) the protection of places of worship, i.e., through Covenants and (3) righteous conduct once hegemony has been established in the land, i.e., Islamic governance:

Permission [to fight] is given to those against whom war has been wrongfully waged, for Allah indeed has full power to assist them (Q22:39). Those who have been driven from their homelands without just cause for no other reason than saying, “Our Lord is Allah.” For if Allah had not repelled some people by others, [many] ṣwāmi‘ (monasteries), biya‘ (churches), ṣalwāt (synagogues), and masājid (mosques)–in which the name of Allah is extolled abundantly–would surely have been destroyed. And Allah shall most certainly help those who uphold His cause, for verily, Allah is the Most powerful, the Almighty (Q22:40). Those who, if We empower them in the land, establish the prayer and give charity, commanding what is right and forbidding what is wrong. And with Allah is the fate of all matters

(Q22:41).

The above verses offer a glimpse into the world of late antiquity at the dawn of Islam. To situate them historically, this study traces patterns of coherence between Q22:39–41 and related Qurʾānic passages, the Covenants, non-Muslim historical accounts that shed light on the seventh century, and the ḥadīth literature, irrespective of their dates of composition. While the exegetical and legal sources drawn postdate the first/seventh century, they are employed as interpretive traditions that shed light on how Muslims read Q22:39–41 and related texts on war and the protection of sanctuaries.

There is a clear rationale for this approach. Scholars remain divided over the use of historical sources: what some regard as acceptable evidence, others dismiss. Early non-Muslim accounts are generally accepted despite their brevity, yet they often reflect an external perspective and a limited understanding of Islam from within. Other non-Muslim sources are of later date and shaped by particular contexts. Likewise, relatively early Muslim sources can transmit tendentious or fabricated material, while later ones can faithfully preserve and systematize early doctrines and narratives. The value of a source for this study lies not in its date, but in its content and its function within the covenantal paradigm. Therefore, in order to avoid circular debates over dating and transmission, this study seeks to overcome these limitations by employing a synchronically comparative framework anchored in Q22:39–41 and the Covenants as fixed thematic reference points.

First, it begins by consulting Qurʾānic commentaries spanning roughly seven centuries, not to trace a linear historical development, but to demonstrate the persistence and coherence of a specific interpretive tradition and to assess the extent to which it was grounded in an early covenantal paradigm. Commentators from Ibn ‘Abbās (d. 687) to Ibn al-Qayyim (d. 1350) are examined thematically to present corroborative evidence across seven centuries. Their collective testimony, spanning the formative, classical, and post-classical periods, reveals a sustained effort to derive from Q22:40 a legal and theological imperative that directly engages with the concepts of Covenant (‘ahd) and protection (dhimma). It shows that the protection of non-Muslim places of worship was not a fleeting early practice but a deeply embedded normative principle consistently recognized, debated, and legitimized within Islamic scholarly discourse.

Second, it seeks to provide a historical context for Q22:39–41. After all, it would be untenable to assume that these verses emerged in a vacuum without a specific context; they must have been responding to particular circumstances. Taken at face value, this would imply that significant religious persecution was occurring at the time of the Qurʾān’s revelation and that early Islam understood itself as an antidote to such conditions. This assumption is supported by historical sources that examine the political situation in late antiquity.

Third, the study engages with contemporary non-Muslim sources such as the Catholicos Isho‘yahb III (d. 659) and John Bar Penkāyē, writing in 687, and then extends to later historians to include Jirjis al-Makīn b. al-ʿAmīd (d. 1273) and Bar Hebraeus (d. 1286). Taken together, these materials show that for roughly six centuries, non-Muslim communities of the Near East preserved memories and described lived experiences that align closely with the contents of the Covenants, which makes it difficult to interpret their collective accounts as referring to anything other than these documents. If critics maintain that these testimonies point to something other than the Covenants, it is incumbent upon them to specify what that alternative could plausibly be. The importance of non-Muslim testimonies therefore lies in their portrayal of the covenantal paradigm as it unfolds from late antiquity through the period in which the Muslims were granted victory, as described in Q22:41, and into the early Middle Ages, paralleling the observations made by Qurʾānic commentators over the same period. This synchronic analysis of the thematic coherence between Qurʾānic commentators and non-Muslim accounts enables a plausible reconstruction of the early Muslim worldview through the lens of the covenantal paradigm embedded in Q22:40.

Fourth, although Q22:40 and the Covenants express a similar ethical vision, there is no evidence that the Covenants’ language or formulary was derived from the Qurʾān. This distinction is crucial, for their agreement in principle does not imply literary dependence or later theological redaction. Since Q22:40 and the Covenants are independent yet thematically aligned, determining how jihād was understood in Q22:39 requires evidence that does not conflict with these two foundational anchors. We cannot portray the early conquests as wholly benign or purely defensive, for such a claim would contradict the historical record; yet we likewise cannot characterize them as devoid of ethical considerations, since the Covenants contain no indication of harm directed towards non-Muslims or those living under Muslim rule. For this reason, the study identifies ḥadīths whose matn (content) accords with these anchors, irrespective of their isnād (chain of transmission), and interprets relevant Qurʾānic verses and early historical events through this covenantal paradigm. Although it is impossible to establish beyond doubt the authenticity of every text that aligns with these two anchors, the cumulative thematic coherence furnishes a credible basis for reconstructing the early Muslims’ worldview and the theological and ideological motivations behind jihād in early Islam.

2. The Terms Ṣwāmi‘, Biya‘, Ṣalwāt, and Masājid in Q22:40

The command to protect places of worship in Q22:40 is thematically consistent with the Covenants of the Prophet Muḥammad issued during his lifetime to Jewish and Christian communities, guaranteeing them security for their lives, wealth, property, and religion. Such coherence requires an examination of how commentators of the Qurʾān understood and assigned the words ṣwāmi‘, biya‘, and ṣalwāt to various religious communities. The tafsīr attributed to Ibn ‘Abbās understands ṣawāmi‘ to be the monasteries of the monks, biya‘ as the synagogues of the Jews, ṣalawāt as the fire temples of the Magi, and that these communities “are under the protection (mā’man) of the Muslims.” (Ibn ‘Abbās 1992). Although commentators unanimously agree that the word masājid means mosques, Ibn al-Qayyim, citing Ibn Zayd and al-Akhfash, explains that the latter understood the word ṣalwāt to be a reference to the Muslims’ prayers, and that if these were interrupted, then the mosques in which these prayers are established would by consequence be destroyed (Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya 1997). The famous historian and Qurʾānic exegete al-Ṭabarī (d. 923) also reported how the word masājid can be a general reference to places of worship, and thus be inclusive of ṣwāmi‘, biya‘, and ṣalwāt (al-Ṭabarī n.d.).

Abū Isḥāq al-Tha‘labī (d. 1035) tells us that according to Mujāhid b. Jabr (d. 722) (Ibn Jabr 1989) and al-Ḍaḥḥāk, the ṣwāmi‘ are the monasteries belonging to the monks. He also relays the opinion of Qatāda b. Diʻāma (d. 735) that these were the places of worship of the Sabians. Al-Tha‘labī considers the biya‘ to be the churches of the Christians in contrast to Ibn Zayd whom he cites and who believed that the biya‘ were the synagogues of the Jews (al-Tha‘labī 2002c, pp. 25–26). As for the ṣalwāt, al-Tha‘labī informs us that Ibn ‘Abbās, Qatāda, and al-Ḍaḥḥāk all agreed that these were the synagogues of the Jews “which [in their language] they call ṣalūtan,” (Ibid., p. 26) most likely a reference to “the Aramaic and Syriac ts^elutha.” (Robinson 1999, p. 105) Abū al-‘Āliya on the other hand believed that the ṣalwāt were the places of worship of the Sabians. Ibn Abī Najīḥ, on the authority of Mujāhid (Ibn Jabr 1989, p. 482), reports a more generic interpretation, namely that it is a reference to all places of worship (al-Tha‘labī 2002c, p. 26).

Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī (d. 1209) provides a more comprehensive discussion of the terms. He begins by noting the opinion of Abū al-‘Āliya that the ṣwāmi‘ belong to the Christians, the biya‘ to the Jews, the ṣalwāt to the Sabians, and the masājid to the Muslims. He then provides a second opinion which states that the ṣwāmi‘ are the monasteries that the Christians build in the desert, the biya‘ the churches that they build in urban centres, and the ṣalwāt the synagogues of the Jews. The third opinion relayed by al-Razī on the authority of Qatāda is that the ṣwāmi‘ belong to the Sabians, the biya‘ to the Christians, and the ṣalwāt to the Jews. Finally, al-Razī reproduces a rather peculiar opinion on the authority of al-Ḥasan al-Baṣrī (d. 728) that all of these terms are a reference to the places of worship of the Muslims (al-Rāzī 1981, p. 41).

Perhaps one way of resolving differences in the interpretation of these terms is to revert to the texts of the Covenants as they may give us some insight as to how places of worship were self-identified in Arabic. The Covenants with the Monks of Mount Sinai (Beg 1858, p. 31)3 and with the Christians of Najrān (Scher 1911)4 indicate that the ṣwāmi‘ are monasteries and the biya‘ are churches. We thus read in MS 695, the earliest recension of the Covenant with the Monks of Mount Sinai in the Library of St. Catherine’s Monastery:

I protect their churches (biya‘ihim) and I defend their places of worship (kanā’isihim), their houses of prayer (buyūt salawātihim), the areas where the monks live, and the places of hermitage. I protect all monks and hermits in the mountains, valleys, caves, inhabited places, plains, and deserts–their blood-money and their churches (biy‘a). I safeguard their pact of protection (dhimmatahum) and their religion, wherever they may be, in the same manner that I protect myself, my close relations, and the people of my creed among the Muslims…

(MS 695 n.d.a, folio 3)

They also hold the right to request assistance from the Muslims to help them repair their churches (biya‘ihim) and monasteries (ṣawāmi‘ihim), their houses of prayer (buyūt salwātihim), and for any other matter pertaining to their religious affairs.

(Ibid., folio 7)

The word kanā’is in the Covenant with the Monks of Mount Sinai is generic to places of worship, and it appears that it was the context that dictated whether these were a reference to a church or a synagogue. The Covenant with the Samaritans generically refers to the Samaritans’ places of worship as “buyūt ‘ibādatihim” (al-Sāmirī 1865, pp. 174–75) while the Covenant with the Magi is more specific and refers to their fire temples as “buyūt al-nayrān.” (El-Wakil 2017, p. 125, sec. 9). As we have no knowledge of a Covenant drafted with the Sabians–today identified with the Mandaeans–it is not possible for us to know what terminology was used for their places of worship, although as we have already noted, Qatāda believed it was the term ṣwāmi‘ while Abū al-‘Āliya that it was ṣalwāt (al-Rāzī 1981, p. 41). As the Covenant with the Children of Israel states that the Jews “shall not be prevented from their prayers and places of worship (min ṣalawāt wa lā min al-kanā’is),” (Ahroni 1998, vol. 88, p. 40) it is plausible to conclude that the term ṣalwāt specifically referred to the prayers of the Jews, and came to primarily to denote Jewish synagogues while secondarily other religious communities’ places of worship. The exegete Muqātil b. Sulaymān (d. 767) identifies the ṣwāmi‘ as the monasteries of the monks, the biya‘ as the churches of the Christians, the ṣalwāt as the synagogues of the Jews, and the masājid as the mosques of the Muslims (Muqātil 2003, p. 385). This, according to al-Ṭabarī, is the most correct opinion to interpreting these terms in Q22:40 (al-Ṭabarī n.d., p. 650).

3. Commentary of Q22:40 Concerning the Protection of Non-Muslim Places of Worship

The protection of non-Muslim places of worship has been addressed by Qurʾānic commentators in their exegetical works and by Muslim jurists within the context of treaty-making, thereby placing the lives and religious practices of non-Muslims under the safeguard of the Muslim community. In his commentary on Q22:40, Muqātil understands the phrase “if Allah had not repelled some people by others” as “had Allah not repelled the polytheists by the Muslims, then the polytheists would have become victorious and they would have killed the Muslims.” (Muqātil 2003, p. 385). Muqātil then comments how “all of these religious communities invoke Allah abundantly in their places of worship, and Allah–may He be exalted and glorified–gave the Muslims responsibility to defend them.” (Ibid.).

Al-Ḥasan al-Baṣrī is reported to have said concerning Q22:40 that God “protects the destruction of the protected people’s (ahl al-dhimma) places of worship through the believers.” (al-Jaṣṣāṣ 1995b, p. 320; also, see: al-Tha‘labī 2002c, p. 26) Yaḥyā b. Salām (d. 815) wrote in his explanation of Q22:40 that “Allah protects the believers [i.e., the Muslims] by means of their religion, and He protects the non-Muslims (al-kuffār) by means of the believers [i.e., the Muslims].” (Ibn Salām 2004, p. 381). Al-Ṭabarī comments in reference to Q22:40 that had God “not repelled some people by others,” then the places of worship of Christians, Jews, and Muslims would have been destroyed, and in this way God “restrained the polytheists from doing so through the Muslims.” (al-Ṭabarī n.d., p. 647). Al-Ṭabarī states that “in all [these places of worship] the name of Allah is invoked, for this is not only in mosques [but also in other places of worship].” (Ibid., p. 650). He also relates that Thābit b. ‘Awsaja al-Ḥaḍramī transmitted from twenty-seven Companions of ‘Alī b. Abī Ṭālib and ‘Abdullāh b. ‘Abbās that ʿAlī said regarding Q22:40 that it was revealed “concerning the Companions of the Messenger of Allah,” (Ibid., p. 646) explaining that had they not–instead of the Successors–shouldered this responsibility, “many monasteries and churches would have been destroyed.” (Ibid.).

Al-Samarqandī (d. 983) comments that “‘if Allah had not repelled some people by others through jihād, thereby establishing the law [of Allah] (al-ḥudūd) and removing injustice” then “the polytheists would have become victorious and they would have killed the believers because there would have been no believers to repel them.” The consequence of this, he continues, would have been “the destruction of the monasteries of the monks and the churches of the Christians.” (al-Samarqandī 1993, p. 462) Al-Samarqandī then reports the view of al-Zajjāj that the protection of places of worship always occurred through the efforts of the believers. Had it not been for them, then the synagogues, churches, and mosques that were established after the prophets Moses, Jesus, and Muḥammad would have been destroyed (Ibid.). The protection of non-Muslim places of worship is therefore a direct purpose and outcome of jihād and Muslim governance, as al-Samʻānī (d. 1096) alludes to in his explanation of Q22:40: “Repelling here means that the mujāhidīn have a responsibility to defend the religion [of Islam] and the Muslims at large [who are responsible for protecting non-Muslim places of worship].”(al-Samʿānī 1997, p. 442). Al-Rāzī relays a tradition from al-Ḍaḥḥāk on the authority of Ibn ‘Abbās that Q22:40 entails “defending the protected people (ahl al-dhimma) through the religion of Islam and its adherents.” (al-Rāzī 1981, p. 41) Al-Zamakhsharī (d. 1143) explains Q22:40 as:

[God giving] His support and authority to those who have submitted to Him against the disbelievers through their struggle against them. If not, then the polytheists would have overpowered the people of religion and their places of worship, and these would have been destroyed. This would have resulted in no church having remained for Christians, no monastery for monks, no synagogue for Jews, and no mosque for Muslims. If the polytheists had become victorious over the Muslim community of Muḥammad and the People of the Book who are under their protection (fī dhimmatihim), then they would have destroyed the places of worship of both the Muslims and the People of the Book.

(al-Zamakhsharī 2009, p. 697)

Abū Manṣūr al-Māturīdī (d. 944) notes how God created people to cooperate with one another in the affairs of this life, including religion, and that Q22:40 represents “evidence that synagogues and churches, among other places of worship which have been mentioned, should not be demolished and that it is impermissible to do so. Since monasteries and churches are mentioned [in this verse], they are to be left intact in the newly established Muslim provinces (amṣār al-muslimīn) and they are not to be destroyed. There is no disagreement among scholars regarding this. Nevertheless, they are not allowed to build new churches and synagogues in Muslim provinces (amṣār al-muslimīn) and villages, though the ones which already exist there are to remain as they are.” (al-Māturīdī 2007, p. 386). Al-Qurṭubī (d. 1272) quotes in his tafsīr how Ibn Khuwayz Mandād (d. 999), a mufassir and Mālikī jurist, asserted the following about Q22:40:

This verse prohibits the tearing down of the protected people’s (ahl al-dhimma) churches, including their synagogues and fire temples, but they cannot build new ones, enlarge their current ones, or make them taller. It is not permissible for a Muslim to enter or pray inside them, and whatever they enlarge of them, then it is obligatory for these to be torn down. As for the churches and synagogues that are in lands that are at war with the Muslims, then these are to be torn down. However, [churches and synagogues] which are in Islamic lands are not to be demolished as they belong to the protected people (ahl al-dhimma). This is because they are considered a part of their homes and wealth which are included in the pact protection that was made with them (al-latī ‘āhadū ‘alayhā fī-l-ṣiyāna). They cannot enlarge their places of worship as this would promote and lead to disbelief.

(al-Qurṭubī 2006b, p. 410)

Ibn ‘Aṭṭiyya al-Andalūsī (d. 1146) interpreted Q22:40 as “Allah repelling the injustice of the unjust with the uprightness of those who uphold justice.” (Ibn ʿAṭiyya 2001, p. 124). He explains that the places of worship mentioned in this verse belong to “those communities which have an ancient Scripture. It does not include the Magi and the polytheists to whom protection is not obligatory, as the remembrance of Allah is only applicable to those who follow a divinely revealed law.” (Ibid., p. 125) Ibn ‘Āshūr (d. 1973), elaborating on Ibn Khuwayz’ opinion, but also taking into consideration the view of Ibn ‘Aṭṭiyya, notes: “As for the protection of fire temples, this verse does not include them as the name of Allah is not invoked therein. However, they are not to be destroyed based on the contract of protection (‘aqd al-dhimma) that is to be formulated between the Zoroastrians and the Muslims.” (Ibn ‘Āshūr 1984, p. 279). Abū Bakr al-Jaṣṣāṣ (d. 980) in his well-known book, Aḥkām al-Qur’ān, elaborates the rulings that are to be derived from Q22:40:

The places of worship referred to in this verse is evidence that these cannot be destroyed if they belong to a disbelieving community that has protection (dhimma) or a Covenant (‘ahd). As for those that are present in enemy lands (dār al-ḥarb), then it is permissible to destroy them as it would be to destroy their houses. Muḥammad b. al-Ḥasan [al-Shaybānī] states the following concerning lands that have a treaty with the Muslims (arḍ al-ṣulḥ) but which subsequently came to belong to the Muslims: “No church (biy‘a), synagogue (kanīsa), or fire temple (bayt nār) is to be destroyed. If the lands are conquered by force (‘anwatan) and its people have been forced to pay the jizya, then the places of worship are not to be destroyed, but prayers in churches and synagogues are not to be allowed. They should also be commanded to turn these places of worship into residential areas, and they may live therein, if they so wish.”

(al-Jaṣṣāṣ 1995b, p. 320)

The position of Muḥammad b. al-Ḥasan al-Shaybānī (d. 805) is elaborated in his book Sharḥ Kitāb al-Siyar al-Kabīr. In the case of a province (miṣr) that capitulated by negotiating a treaty with the Muslims (i.e., ṣulḥan), under no circumstances could the non-Muslims’ places of worship be destroyed. As for a province that was taken by force (‘anwatan), the matter was left to the Muslim authorities to decide what to do with them. Al-Shaybānī provides a legal loophole, not mentioned by al-Jaṣṣāṣ, whereby exceptions from converting the non-Muslims’ places of worship into residential areas could be made if the Muslims decided to abandon or not take these newly conquered areas as provinces for them to settle in (i.e., as amṣār al-muslimīn). Al-Shaybānī also states that non-Muslims are allowed to build new places of worship in areas where non-Muslims are the majority, namely the regions beyond the confines of amṣār al-muslimīn.5

If tolerance is to be defined as accepting what one does not like, then Ibn al-Qayyim’s commentary of Q22:40 may best fit what is to be understood as Islamic tolerance of the other:

It is obligatory for the Muslims to defend the non-Muslims’ places of worship even though they may be hateful of them. Allah, may He be exalted, defends these places of worship which have been legally confirmed and decreed to them. Allah loves that these be defended even though He may hate them, in the same way that he loves that their owners be defended even though He may hate them too. This, Allah willing, is the most correct opinion, and it represents the view of Ibn ‘Abbās.

(Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya 1997, p. 69)

Q22:40 establishes protection for non-Muslim places of worship through a continuous exegetical tradition spanning the formative to the post-classical periods. Whether Muslims view these sites as places where God’s name is invoked or as spaces associated with unbelief has no bearing on the legal and moral obligation to defend them. The duty to safeguard such places of worship is grounded directly in the Qurʾānic mandate and reinforced by the covenantal paradigm consistently applied to their communities. Regardless of how expansive or restrictive these protections may have been in particular historical settings, the covenantal paradigm is affirmed across regions, schools of law, and centuries. Even when jurists introduced limitations on the construction or repair of non-Muslim places of worship in the amṣār al-muslimīn, none questioned the obligation to preserve those already standing. The exegetical and legal tradition therefore yields a clear and authoritative conclusion: the protection of non-Muslim places of worship is an established Islamic obligation, one that operates independently of theological evaluation and forms an integral part of the covenantal paradigm governing Muslim-non-Muslim relations.

4. Religious Persecutions in the World of Late Antiquity

It could be argued that Q22:40 offers a glimpse into the volatile insecurity that prevailed in the two main polities of the Prophet’s lifetime, namely the Roman and Sasanian empires. Though a reconstruction of the cultural milieu in these two polities is complex, we will nevertheless attempt to provide a relatively plausible explanation of the socio-political conditions Q22:39–41 was addressing and which could have shaped the early Muslim worldview.

Shortly prior to the Prophet’s birth in 572, Emperor Justinian (r. 527–565) enforced Chalcedonian Christianity as the official religion of the Roman Empire at the expense of all other creeds. The Corpus Juris Civilis (“Body of Civil Law”) of Justinian is divided into four parts: (1) the Code (Codex), containing imperial enactments; (2) the Digest (Digesta or Pandectae), comprising selected writings of Roman jurists; (3) the Institutes (Institutiones), a legal textbook for students; and (4) the Novels (Novellae), new laws issued after 534.

An edict passed in 357, thirty-two years after the Council of Nicaea, explains that “If anyone made a Christian by the venerable law (of the Church) becomes a Jew and joins their sacrilegious assemblies, when the accusation (against him) has been proven, We order that his property be claimed as property of the Treasury.” (Blume 2016, pp. 223–25). This punishment against apostates from Christianity to Judaism did not apply to those were born into the Jewish faith, as an edict passed on 6 August 412 makes clear:

No person, although a Jew, shall be destroyed if he is innocent; and his religion, whatever its nature, shall not expose him to injustice. Their synagogues or dwellings shall not be burned indiscriminately or damaged wrongly for no reason, since by other means, even if a Jew is involved in crimes, the force of the courts and protection of public law is established in our midst so that no one may permit himself to seek revenge. But, just as We desire to protect the persons of the Jews, so We deem this warning also appropriate: the Jews shall not become insolent and, emboldened by their own safety, commit any rash act against the worship of the Christian religion.

(Ibid., p. 235)

Another edict issued on 8 June 423 commands Christians not “to abuse the authority of their religion and lay hands on Jews or pagans who live quietly and attempt nothing disorderly or against the law.” (Ibid., p. 241). Shortly after the Council of Chalcedon, an edict was passed in 455 declaring “clergymen of Catholic churches or monks of the orthodox faith, who have abandoned the true worship of the orthodox religion to follow the heresy and execrable teachings of Apollinaris or Eutyches, shall be liable to all punishments that have been introduced by past laws against heretics and shall be driven beyond the very soil of the Roman Empire, just as the provisions of foregoing laws have decreed concerning the Manichaeans.”(Ibid., p. 227).

During the reigns of Justin I (r. 518–527) and Justinian, there was increased intolerance of religious minorities for fear that the Empire could potentially divide itself on the basis of religion. In a joint edict issued in 527, they explain how “We permitted the heretics to assemble and have their own name for this reason: that, ashamed by Our forbearance, they may come to their senses and turn to the better of their own accord. But an unbearable audacity has possessed them, and, disregarding the sanction of the law, they have insinuated themselves into clerical posts which, as the very words of the imperial decrees manifestly declare, they may no longer hold.” (Ibid., p. 203). One prominent Miaphysite bishop, Philoxenus of Mabbugh, was exiled to Gangra following Justin I’s accession to power and died there around the year 523 (Greatrex 2011, p. 299).

A decree of Justinian passed in 527 states: “Heretics cannot hold assemblies, sectarian gatherings, or synods; celebrate ordinations or baptisms; have precentors; appoint fathers or defenders (of a church); manage or administer lands by themselves or by means of fictitious persons; or do anything that has been forbidden. Whoever violates this does so at his extreme peril.” (Blume 2016, p. 207). On 26 March 533, Justinian elaborated that “If we disregard the four holy synods mentioned or their resolutions, we give the heretics and heretical doctrines which these synods condemned freedom once again to propagate their poison in the Holy Churches of God.” (Ibid., p. 31). The Arians who rejected the Council of Nicea in 325 and the Council of Constantinople in 381, the followers of Nestorius who did not accept the Council of Ephesus in 431, and the Miaphysites who had opposed the Council of Chalcedon in 451, were all prone to religious persecution. The Manichaeans, however, were branded as the worst of heretics:

The Manichaeans, then, as We have said, shall accordingly be driven out, nor shall anyone suffer even their name (to remain) or do nothing if someone infected with this godlessness should live in the same place as the others; but any Manichaean found anywhere in the world shall be subjected to extreme punishments.

(Ibid., p. 203)

The Chronicle of Zuqnin recalls how between the years 541 and 545 during the reign of Justinian, orders were given by the Emperor pertaining to the Manichaeans, “that they be thrown upon a boat and burnt with fire on the sea, and thereby be drowned in the sea, and that their possessions enter the imperial treasury.” (Pseudo-Dionysius of Tel-Mahre 1996, p. 70). The following edict explicitly states that past laws against heretics will be revived, and that harsher punishments will be inflicted upon them:

As for the other heretics, whatever their error or name (for We call everyone who does not adhere to the Catholic Church and our Orthodox and Holy Faith a heretic), and also as regards the pagans (Hellenes), who attempt to introduce the worship of many gods, and the Jews and Samaritans: We strive not only to revive the statutes of existing laws and to strengthen them by this law, but also to enact more, whereby the security, honor, and prestige of the adherents of the Holy Faith may be increased. All can observe, We have said, how those who do not rightly worship God shall also be deprived of their earthly goods.

(Blume 2016, p. 203)

The Chronicle of John Malalas (d. ca. 570s) reports the reason the Jewish King of Ḥimyar, Dhū Nuwās, began attacking Christian merchants and harming Byzantine and Aksumite economic interests is because “the Christian Romans were ill-treating the Jews in their territory, and killing many of them each year.” (Jeffreys et al. 1986, p. 251). King Kaleb (Elesbaas) had invaded the Kingdom of Ḥimyar in 518 and installed Ma‘dīkarib Ya‘fur as his client in South Arabia. In response, Dhū Nuwās killed Ma‘dīkarib Ya‘fur, and in an effort to eliminate all traces of Abyssinian and Roman influence in South Arabia, massacred Christians in the most brutal of ways. The martyrdom of the Christians of Najrān in 523 sent shockwaves across the world of Christendom, leading Kaleb with the support of Emperor Justin I, to send an Abyssinian expedition to South Arabia for a second time which resulted in the defeat of Dhū Nuwās in 525. Kaleb avenged the Christians who had been martyred but did not massacre the Jews in retaliation for what they had done. Rather, it appears that they continued to live in South Arabia alongside Arab Christians of different denominations until the time of the Prophet Muḥammad. Kaleb appointed Sumūyafa‘ Ashwa’ (Esimiphaios) as his viceroy, but he was soon overthrown by Abraha, who then founded an independent kingdom in South Arabia that was allied to Abyssinia.

At around the same time, the Chronicle of Zacharias of Mytilene (d. after 536) recalls how the Lakhmid king and client of the Sasanians, al-Mundhir III ibn al-Nu‘man (d. 554), entered the territory of “Emesa, Apamea, and the country of Antioch, and he led away many and brought down with him four hundred virgins who were suddenly carried into captivity from the assembly of the apostle Thomas in Emesa, whom he sacrificed in one day for the worship of ‘Uzzai [i.e., al-‘Uzzā].” (Greatrex 2011, p. 298). Procopius (d. ca. 570) recalls that when Abraha “had established his power most securely,” he “promised the emperor Justinian many times to invade the land of Persia, but only once began the journey and then immediately turned back.” (Prokopius 2014, p. 54). Abraha could not realistically lead a campaign against the Persians so he sought to control the West Arabian trade route between the Yemen and the Levant, leading him to undertake his expedition against Makka during the Year of the Elephant in 572.6 He was, however, unsuccessful, and after his death the Abyssinians were eradicated from the Arabian Peninsula, first by Sayf ibn Dhī Yazan and, after his assassination, by the Persian commander Wahriz. (al-Ṭabarī 1879–1901a, p. 148).

After the death of Hormizd IV (r. 579–590), the Persian general Bahrām Chūbīn (r. 590–591) began rebelling against the House of Sasan, posing a serious threat to Khusraw II (r. 590–628). It was through the help of the Emperor Maurice (r. 539–602) that Khusraw II managed to secure his throne and defeat Bahrām Chūbīn. The relative peace that ensued between Byzantium and Persia ended when Maurice was assassinated in 602 by the usurper Phocas, prompting Khusraw II to make significant advances in Byzantine territory to avenge his death. This included the conquest of Jerusalem on 19 May 614 which resulted in the Jews allying themselves with the Sasanians and massacring many Christians. The reconstructed Chronicle of Theophilus of Edessa (d. 785) recalls how the Sasanians killed 90,000 Christians (Hoyland 2011, pp. 64–65), though Antiochus Strategos reports the more conservative figure of 66,509 (Conybeare 1910, p. 516). The reconstructed Chronicle of Theophilus also tell us how the Jews bought Christians at a low price only for the privilege of killing them later (Hoyland 2011, pp. 64–65).

At around the same time the Muslims were also being persecuted in Makka, prompting the Prophet to send a group of his followers to the Kingdom of Aksum. The Quraysh’s influence and alliances prevented the early Muslims from enjoying any kind of religious freedom in the Arabian Peninsula. Ibn Isḥāq reports how the Prophet informed his Companions that the King of Aksum “will not tolerate injustice and it is a friendly country.” (Ibn Hishām 2006, p. 146) According to al-Ṭabarī, the emigration to Abyssinia took place “in [the month] of Rajab in the fifth year from the time of the Messenger of Allah attained prophethood” (al-Ṭabarī 1879–1901a, p. 69), which would have been around the year 616 (Zein and El-Wakil 2021).7

Although Heraclius had overthrown Phocas 6 years earlier, in 610, the Sasanians continued to hold “preeminent power over the land of the Byzantines.” (al-Ka‘bi 2016, p. 30). Alexandria fell in 619 and The History of the Patriarchs of the Coptic Church of Alexandria recalls that when Khusraw II’s army general arrived in Henaton, near Alexandria, where there were flourishing monasteries, he slew all the monks except for a few who managed to hide. After giving guarantees to the young men of Alexandria that he would give them 20 dīnārs if they gathered outside their homes, the Persian general ordered that all 80,000 of them be killed by the sword. It is even reported that when he made his way to Upper Egypt, he killed 700 monks (Ibn al-Muqaffa‘ 1907, pp. 221–22).

By 622 the Sasanians had conquered Anatolia, placing them within sight of Constantinople. Arabia was not completely detached from the rest of the world, and news of the ongoing Byzantine-Sasanian wars were making their way there.8 What appeared to be the end of the Eastern Roman Empire is briefly alluded to in Q30:2–4 when it states: “The Romans have been defeated in a land close by [i.e., Anatolia], but after their defeat, they will be victorious, within a few years.” Indeed, Heraclius launched his counter-offensive against the Sasanians in 624. Not only did he successfully retake the eastern provinces, his military campaigns culminated in a decisive victory at the Battle of Nineveh on 12 December 627, and from which the Sasanians would never recover. Eutychius, Patriarch of Alexandria (d. 940), tells us that upon his entry in Persia, he killed every man, woman, and child he came across. Heraclius claimed David’s prophetic words to himself by quoting Psalms 137:9: “Happy is the one who seizes your infants and dashes them against the rocks.” (Eutychius 1909, p. 3). Eutychius also recalls how he had taken captive Shīroweh, the son of Khusraw II, shaved his head and beard, and sent him to his father with a letter that read:

From the servant of Christ, Heraclius, the victorious, to Kisrā, the one who has been humiliated, is confused, and who has now no support. To proceed: I am offering you a ransom that I was able to collect and that I present to you, both on my behalf and on behalf of my Empire, namely the decapitated heads of the people of Persia which I offer you. As soon as you receive this letter of mine, and before placing it aside, make sure to have one of your men come and collect them. Peace.

(Ibid.)

Eutychius adds that when Heraclius entered Jerusalem in 629, the Christians of Jerusalem took him to the Mamilla cemetery to show him how the Jews had outdone the Sasanians in their atrocities against them, which resulted in the destruction of numerous churches and monasteries. In retaliation, they requested Heraclius to kill every Jew around Jerusalem and Galilee for fear that they would once again ally themselves with a people who are against the Christians (Ibid., p. 6.). Heraclius then decreed forced baptism for all Jews (Chabot 1901, p. 414), a decision that was fiercely opposed by St. Maximus the Confessor (d. 662) (Starr 1947). Michael the Syrian (d. 1199) reports how Heraclius also decreed that it was a duty to cut off the nose and ears, as well as loot the houses of those who did not support the Council of Chalcedon (Chabot 1901, p. 412). An observation in the reconstructed Chronicle of Dionysius recalls the fate of the Miaphysites prior to Islam:

When He saw that the measure of the Romans’ sins was overflowing and that they were committing every sort of crime against our people and our churches, bringing our Confession to the verge of extinction, He stirred up the Sons of Ishmael and enticed them hither from their southern land. This had been the most despised and disregarded of the peoples of the earth, if indeed they were known at all. Yet it was by bargaining with them that we secured our deliverance. This was no small gain, to be rescued from Roman imperial oppression. Yet we suffered a loss as well. The cathedral churches which had been unjustly confiscated from our people by Heraclius and given to his co-religionaries, the Chalcedonians, have continued to languish in their possession until the present day.

(Palmer et al. 1993, p. 141)

In an effort to reconcile the Miaphysite and Chalcedonian creeds, Heraclius tried to impose the doctrine of Monothelitism which holds that Christ has one will instead of both a divine and a human will. This attempt at coming up with a compromise to unite the Empire under one creed was vehemently condemned by the Miaphysite Pope Benjamin I of Alexandria (d. 661) and the Greek Orthodox Patriarch Sophronius of Jerusalem (d. 638). According to the History of the Patriarchs of the Coptic Church of Alexandria, the persecution of Pope Benjamin I was such that he remained hidden “in a small monastery in the wilderness until the accomplishment of the ten years, as the angel of the Lord had told him,” (Ibn al-Muqaffa‘ 1907, p. 226) whereby deliverance would come to the Copts of Egypt.

Had Monothelitism taken sway, one can only wonder what would have happened to the Greek Orthodox clergy who stood in opposition to it. The Syriac Life of Maximus the Confessor, which is a Maronite defense of Monothelitism written in the seventh century, records how “Maximus confined himself to a small cell out of fear of the emperor [Heraclius] and those patriarchs who had anathematized his teaching. He stayed in this cell until the Arabs appeared and took control of Syrian and many other places.” (Penn 2015, p. 65). The text observes that it was only “when this wretch saw that the land had become the Arabs’ and that there no longer was anyone to hinder and abolish his doctrine, he once again publicly professed his deception and began sowing his teaching among some in the regions of Syria.” (Ibid.). St. Maximus was eventually tried in Constantinople as a heretic, and along with two other disciples, had his tongue cut out and right hand amputated so he could no longer spread his alleged heresy. He died shortly thereafter in Lazika, situated in the southeast shore of the Black Sea (Louth 2013, p. 94). As Daniel Sahas has observed, “it was not only military considerations, but also the whole climate of discontent and division created by the Monothelite controversy which was unravelling in Syria, that made Heraclius disheartened and even unwilling to assist any further the Christians against the Arab onslaught.” (Sahas 1999, p. 96).

Despite having committed acts of barbarism outside of their realm, the Sasanians appear to have on the whole been more tolerant than the Romans when it came to the religion of their subjects. There is after all no record of a religiously backed legal code within the Sasanian Empire justifying the persecution of religious minorities. The Chronicle of Khuzistan informs us how Khusraw II had a Christian wife and a trusted Christian physician at his court, and that when he took the True Cross to Persia, he “placed it, as sign of respect, with the vessels of the sanctuary in the new treasury which he built in Ctesiphon.” (al-Ka‘bi 2016, p. 52). Though he did not desecrate the holy relic, it appears Khusraw II took it from Jerusalem with the intent of humiliating the Christians. The reconstructed Chronicle of Dionysius of Tel-Maḥrē (d. 845 CE), recalls how Khusraw II had become “harsh, arrogant and overweening as a result of his victories.” He adds “Who is there now to compose lamentations [as Jeremiah did] about the distress and the loss of life that people suffered at this time? Who can count the tragic deportations, the pillagings and depredations, the cruel requisitions, the harsh taxations? How many blocks of stone, slabs and pillars of marble and pedestals of gold and silver from the churches were carried off to Persia?” (Palmer et al. 1993, p. 133).

The Chronicle of Khuzistan tells us that although “Khusrow showed love towards the Christians in appearance, because of Maurice, nevertheless, he was for our people an enemy.” (al-Ka‘bi 2016, p. 32). It recalls how at one point, when facing resistance from Heraclius, Kusraw II stated “if I am granted victory, I would leave no church or bell in my entire dominion!” (Ibid., p. 62). Only after his death was there “peace and security for all the Christians during the days of Shīroweh his son.” (Ibid., p. 66). As for the Jews, the Talmud addresses their condition under Roman and Sasanian rule as follows:

The Gemara asks: Is this to say that the Romans are preferable to the Persians? But didn’t Rabbi Ḥiyya teach: What is the meaning of that which is written: “God understands its way and He knows its place” (Job 28:23)? This means that the Holy One, Blessed be He, knows with regard to the Jewish people that they are unable to accept and live under Roman decrees, and therefore He arose and exiled them to Babylonia. This indicates that living under Babylonian rule is preferable to living under Roman rule. The Gemara explains: This is not difficult, as this interpretation of Rabbi Ḥiyya refers to the period before the Persians reached Babylonia, when life there was very comfortable. That statement of Rabba was issued after the Persians reached Babylonia, when the situation changed and living there became more difficult.

(The William Davidson Talmud n.d.)

Taqī al-Dīn al-Maqrīzī (d. 1442) summarizes the situation during those times:

The Christian kings continued to kill them [i.e., the Jews] and this persisted until the days of Heraclius when the religion of Islam appeared. Heraclius persecuted the Jews throughout his kingdom in the provinces of al-Shām, Egypt, North Africa, Constantinople and its surroundings. He killed most of them and there remained only those who went into hiding or escaped

(al-Maqrīzī 1999, p. 159).

In light of the havocs that resulted from the Byzantine-Sasanian wars, Q22:40 may have offered an antidote and a new hope to religious persecutions that resulted in the destruction of places of worship. The Qurʾān also attests that fighting was sanctioned if it was for a noble cause:

And for what reason would you not fight in the path of Allah? And there are men, women, and children who are weak, pleading: “Our Lord, take us out of this city whose leaders are oppressing its people, and appoint for us a protector and redeemer whom You have ordained.”

(Q4:75)

The Kingdom of Aksum was perceived by the early Muslims as a just and righteous kingdom that respected religious freedoms. After the death of Ashama b. Abjar, when the Muslims were prepared to take control of Egypt, there could have been a clear strategic advantage for invading Abyssinia, particularly now that a new Negus was in power. Yet this never happened, most likely for ideological rather than military reasons. The Roman emperors had failed to govern as just rulers while the Sasanians were perceived as brutal and tyrannical. These two empires had fought without end, making temporary peace only to resume hostilities again and again. This may have led the early Muslims to legitimize their jihād against the Roman and Sasanian empires, grounding it in the Qurʾānic verse: “We wrote in the Psalms, after the exhortation [given to Moses]: My righteous servants shall inherit the earth” (Q21:105).

5. From Diplomacy to Declaration of War

The command to wage jihād in Q22:39 is echoed in the Constitution of Madīna,9 where the authority to declare war or dispatch military expeditions rests solely with the Prophet.10 Q22:41 alludes to future military expansions but does not specify the concrete reasons why the Muslims would undertake them. Through the synchronically comparative framework adopted throughout this article, we will seek to offer a plausible reconstruction of these motivations.

Prior to fighting, the Prophet commanded his followers to issue a warning to the polytheist tribes when they first encounter them. He instructed Mu‘ādh b. Jabal:

Do not fight them until you have invited them [to Islam]. If they refuse, then do not fight them unless they initiate hostilities against you. If they do, then do not engage them until they have killed one of your men. After that show them the slain man and say: “Is there a better recourse than this?” If Allah Most High guides one of them through you, that is better for you than everything over which the sun rises and sets

(Al-Sarakhsī n.d.).

Similar instructions were given to ‘Alī b. Abī Ṭalib:

If you enter their territory, do not fight them until they fight you. Do not engage them until they have killed one of your men. Even then, continue to reproach them before striking back. Say to them: “Will you testify that there is no god but Allah?” If they answer “yes,” then ask: “Will you perform the prayer?” If they answer “yes,” then ask: “Will you give alms from your wealth to the poor among you?” If they answer “yes” to that as well, then demand nothing further from them. By Allah, if through you Allah guides even one man, that is better for you than everything over which the sun rises and sets

(al-Wāqidī 1966b, p. 1079).

Prior to the early conquests, it is said that the Prophet had initiated diplomatic communications with the Negus of Abyssinia, al-Muqawqis, Heraclius, and Kisrā. The sources report how the Negus became a close ally of the Prophet. In that respect, Muslims were not allowed to retain their clientage to non-Muslim tribes unless, like the Negus, they had come to an understanding with the Prophet: “O you who have believed! Do not take the Jews and the Christians as your patrons (awliyā’). They are patrons to one another (ba‘ḍuhum awliyā’ ba‘ḍ), so whoever among you follows them [i.e., retains or gives his pledge of allegiance to them], then he is of them! Surely Allah does not guide communities that are unjust (Q5:51)!” Kisrā shredded the Prophet’s letter and no political agreement seems to have been established with him. The case of Heraclius is more complex, and we may presume that although there may have been positive diplomatic exchanges between them at first, the relationship soon deteriorated as is evident by the following declaration of war:

From Muḥammad, the Messenger of Allah, to Heraclius, the Emperor of the Romans. I call you to Islam. If you submit, you will have the same rights and obligations as the Muslims. If you choose not to embrace Islam, then you must give the jizya, for Allah, may He be exalted and glorified, says: “Fight those who do not believe in Allah and the Last Day, who do not hold inviolable what Allah and His messenger hold inviolable, and who do not adhere to the religion of truth from among those who have been given the Book until they hand over the jizya, having been defeated” (Q9:29). If not, then do not intervene between your subjects (al-fallāḥīn) and Islam, either for them to embrace it or for them to give the jizya

(‘Ubayd 1989, pp. 92–93).

It is not clear why such a letter was sent, though we may presume that it followed attempts by a number of Arabian tribes to break free from the yoke of Roman rule, particularly in light of how the sources generally portray the Christians at Heraclius’ court as religious zealots intolerant of pluralism. This atmosphere of intolerance is reflected in several reports preserved in the Islamic historiographical tradition. Al-Ṭabarī relays that a bishop named Ṣaghāṭir was put to death for having accepted Islam (al-Ṭabarī 1879–1901a, pp. 292–93; Also see: Ibn Kathīr 1987, p. 267). Ibn Sa‘d (d. 845) similarly records that Farwa b. ‘Amr b. al-Nāfira, a Roman governor of the Banū Judhām in Ma‘ān, in present-day Jordan, was beheaded and crucified after converting to Islam (Ibn Sa‘d 1990a, p. 266). In the same vein, Yuḥanna b. Rū’ba, the governor of ‘Aqaba, is said to have concluded a compact with the Prophet, and when news of this reached Heraclius, Ibn Khaldūn (d. 1406) reports that he had him crucified (Ibn Khaldūn 2001, p. 224).

Although Heraclius is generally depicted in the Islamic sources as a wise leader (El-Cheikh 1999), the Prophet’s letter seems to imply that he viewed him as a hypocrite, as one who does not really believe “in Allah and the Last Day” and who oppresses his subjects by not holding inviolable “what Allah and His messenger hold inviolable.” In the same way the Prophet told Heraclius not to intervene between his subjects and Islam, ‘Umar during his Caliphate also instructed his soldiers to “Fear Allah when it comes to the subjects (al-fallāḥīn). Do not kill them unless they make war against you.” (al-Bayhaqī 2003, p. 55).

When confronted with those who rejected his diplomatic outreach, the Prophet offered them the choice between embracing Islam or paying the jizya. Only if both were refused could fighting begin. This ensured that war was never initiated without prior warning or terms and conditions. However, once war was underway, the Prophet did employ surprise attacks as tactical measures. The principle that emerges is that a declaration of war or invitation was required to initiate conflict, but within an established war, raids could be carried out without prior warning as a legitimate military tactic.

6. Rules of Engagement

The Qurʾān makes no apologies about Islam seeking hegemony over other religions: “He is the one who has sent His messenger with the guidance and religion of truth that it may prevail over all religions (li-yudhhirahu ‘alā al-dīn kullihi), even if the polytheists are averse to it” (Q9:33; also see Q48:28 and Q61:9). The Qurʾān states in Q2:193: “Fight them [i.e., the polytheists] until there is no more persecution and religion belongs to Allah (wa yakūn al-dīn li-llāh).” The wording in Q8:39 slightly differs: “And fight them [i.e., the polytheists] until there is no more persecution and all religion belongs to Allah (wa yakūn al-dīn kulluhu li-llāh).” Q109:6 instructs the Prophet to tell the polytheists: “To you your religion, and to me mine.” Although there are no historical records of Jewish or Christian communities being persecuted by polytheists in the Arabian Peninsula, these verses—when read alongside Q22:39—imply that the polytheists would never allow the Muslims alongside their Jewish and Christian allies to worship freely in the Peninsula. The early Muslims therefore seem to have regarded jihād as a means of upholding freedom of religion, except in cases where monotheistic worship was directly threatened by Arabian polytheism.

Overall, the early Muslims appear to have regarded themselves as the most open and inclusive religious community of late antiquity, the only one prepared to acknowledge the other, though they did not necessarily expect such recognition in return, particularly from allies of the polytheists: “The Jews and Christians will not be satisfied with you until you follow their creed” (Q2:120). The Constitution of Madīna therefore accepted non-Muslims as members of the umma with guaranteed rights and protection, but under Muslim hegemony. The Prophet’s Covenants with the Jews of Khaybar and Maqnā, as well as with the Magi, along with ‘Umar’s Covenant with the Christians of Mesopotamia and ‘Alī’s Covenant with the Magi, all cite Q2:256: “There is no compulsion in religion.” (Zein and El-Wakil 2020b, p. 253).

Islamic hegemony thus seems to have been justified by superior moral conduct, with the Qurʾān stating that Muslims are “the best of nations to have appeared before mankind, so long as you command what is right, forbid what is evil, and believe in Allah (Q3:110).” The Qurʾān adds: “Do not despair or grieve when you are supported [by Allah] (wa antum al-a‘lawn) if indeed you are believers (Q3:139).” This verse is explained elsewhere: “Do not despair and call out for the cessation of hostilities (ilā al-salim) when you are supported [by Allah] (wa antum al-a‘lawn). Allah is with you and He will not let your deeds go to waste (Q47:35).” Had al-a‘lawn been a reference to the Muslims’ military might, there would have been no reason for them to grieve, despair, or call out for the cessation of hostilities, which ultimately supports the interpretation that this is a reference to them being elevated in the sight of God, supported by Him, and ultimately victorious if they remain firm in their faith. Such an interpretation is also consistent with: “If they [i.e., the enemy] incline to the cessation of hostilities (li-l-salim) so incline to it also. And put your trust in Allah, for He is the All Hearing, the All Knowing (Q8:61).”

The Qurʾān commands the believers to “fight in the path of Allah those who fight you but do not commit transgressions. Indeed, Allah does not love those who commit transgressions (Q2:190).” In his commentary of this verse, and Q2:191 that follows, al-Jaṣṣāṣ explicitly states that it is obligatory for Muslims to fight polytheists who are “combatants (ahl al-qitāl), and that there is no disagreement that killing women and children is forbidden, with the Prophet having prohibited the killing of monks (ahl al-ṣawāmi‘).” (al-Jaṣṣāṣ 1995a, p. 313). Q8:12 orders the angels to strike the disbelievers “above their necks and to strike every one of them that carries a weapon (banān).” While banān is often interpreted as “fingertips,” the context clearly suggests that it refers to enemy combatants wielding weapons.

Furthermore, the Islamic sources attest to the Prophet having established strict rules of engagement in warfare, many of which are recorded by al-Bayhaqī (d. 1066) in his al-Sunan al-Kubrā. The first tradition that interests us has been reported by Anas b. Mālik:

Go forth in the name of Allah, with [the aid] of Allah, following the creed of the Messenger of Allah: Do not kill an old man, a child, an infant, or a woman. Do not commit treachery but collect the war booty honestly. Be righteous and virtuous, for surely Allah loves those who are virtuous

(al-Bayhaqī 2003, p. 153).

A tradition from Zayd b. ‘Alī on the authority of his great grandfather ‘Alī b. Abī Ṭālib states:

Do not kill a child, a woman, or an old man. Do not defile a well. Do not cut down a tree unless it is necessary, either to prevent you getting killed or if it stands between you and the polytheists. Do not mutilate a human being or an animal. Do not act treacherously or dishonestly when it comes to the war booty

(Ibid., p. 154).

A variant tradition on the authority of Ibn ‘Abbās and Ibn Abī Uways, complementing the two traditions quoted above, makes a reference to places of worship in a manner that is consistent with Q22:40:

Go out in the name of Allah, fighting in the path of Allah whoever has disbelieved in Allah. Do not act treacherously, do not mutilate, do not behave dishonestly when it comes to the war booty, and do not kill children and those who inhabit monasteries

(Ibid.).

The command to protect those people inhabiting places of worship can be found in a tradition on the authority of Khālid b. Zayd who reported that when the Prophet bade farewell to his Companions who were headed for Mū’ta, he instructed:

Raid in the name of Allah, fighting the enemy of Allah and your enemy in al-Shām. You will find therein men who are isolated, living in monasteries–do not approach them. You will find others on whose head the devils have taken refuge [i.e., enemy combatants], so strike them with your sword. Do not kill women, infants, or old men. Do not cut down a tree, uproot a palm-tree, or destroy a house

(Ibid.).

When Abū Bakr became Caliph, he is reported to have given similar instructions to Yazīd b. Abī Sufyān:

You will find people who have confined themselves to monasteries, so leave them to what they have confined themselves to [i.e., worshipping Allah]. You will find others wearing helmets with hair coming out from their midst (qawman faḥaṣū ‘an awsāṭ ru’ūsihim min al-sha‘r),11 so strike their heads. I herein give you ten instructions: Do not kill [1] a woman; [2] a child; or [3] an old man. [4] Do not cut a fruit bearing tree; [5] do not destroy a building; and [6] do not kill a goat or a camel unless it is for food. [7] Do not burn a palm-tree or [8] overflood it. [9] Do not behave dishonestly when it comes to the war booty and [10] do not act cowardly

(al-Bayhaqī 2003, p. 152; Also see: Mālik 1985, pp. 447–48; al-Ṭabarī 1879–1901a, pp. 462–63).

The reconstructed Chronicle of Dionysius also relays the instructions Abū Bakr gave to his troops:

In the land you will invade kill neither the aged, nor the little child, nor the woman. Do not force the stylite from his high perch and do not harass the solitary. They have devoted themselves to the service of God. Do not cut down any [fruit-]tree neither damage any crop, neither maim any domestic animal, large or small. Wherever you are welcomed by a city or a people, make a solemn pact with them and give them reliable guarantees that they will be ruled according to their laws and according to the practices which obtained among them before our time. They will contract with you to pay in tribute whatever sum shall be settled between you, then they will be left alone in their confession and in their country. But as for those who do not welcome you, make war on them. Be careful to abide by all the just laws and commandments which have been given to you by God through our prophet, lest you excite the wrath of God

(Palmer et al. 1993, p. 145).

Abū Bakr’s instructions in the reconstructed Chronicle of Dionysius bear striking parallels to those reported in the Islamic sources. There is thus a shared historical memory that no woman or child should be killed, that no fruit-tree should be cut, and that no domestic animal should be slayed, except as the Islamic sources specify, if done for food. The protection of monks is emphasized, which is consistent with the Covenants of the Prophet. The reconstructed Chronicle of Dionysius explains how the Muslims ought to “make a solemn pact” with the non-Muslims they encounter so that they “be ruled according to their laws” in return for a “tribute,” which is a reference to the jizya, and corresponds to how the Covenants and the early treaties were formulated.

The command by Abū Bakr to safeguard Christian places of worship finds clear parallels in the Covenants of the Prophet. These protections, which explicitly extend to churches and synagogues, would have also encompassed fire temples, as articulated in the Covenants granted by the Prophet and ‘Alī to the Magi. The instructions of the Prophet and Abū Bakr were re-iterated by ‘Umar to his troops:

Go forth with the aid of Allah, for victory comes only from Allah and through adherence to truth and patience. Fight in the cause of Allah those who have disbelieved in Him, but do not transgress, for Allah does not love the transgressors. Do not show cowardice when you meet the enemy; do not mutilate when you overpower them; and do not act unjustly when you have prevailed. Do not kill an old man, a woman, or a child. Be especially cautious not to kill them when the two armies collide or when raids are being launched

(Ibn ‘Abd Rabbihi 1983, pp. 115–16).

A passage in ‘Umar’s lengthy letter to Sa‘d b. Abī Waqqāṣ, his general during the Battle of al-Qādisiyya, states:

Avoid entering the homes and villages of those who have a truce with us and whom we have granted protection (ahl al-ṣulḥ wa-l-dhimma). Ensure that no one enters the areas where they reside except those among your companions whose religion you trust, for no one should inflict harm upon them [as their lives and property] have now been rendered inviolable and they are under our protection. Remaining faithful to these terms and conditions is now a trial for you in the same way as it is a trial for them, and one that they must endure with patience. For whatever patience they have shown you, treat them kindly in return. Do not exploit your state of war with their co-religionists as a pretext to commit an injustice against them as they are now bound to us with a treaty

(Ibid., pp. 117–18).

It would be a gross inaccuracy to view the early conquests as having been driven by economic interests alone, and in that respect, the reasons given for conducting jihād given by the Companion Rib‘ī b. ‘Āmir to the Sasanian general Rustum are quite telling:

We have been sent and brought forth by Allah to take whomever wills it [for himself] from the worship of creation to the worship of Allah; from the constraints of this world to the [everlasting] expansiveness [of the hereafter]; and from the tyranny of [exiting] religio-legal systems (jūr al-adyān) to the justice of Islam (‘adl al-Islām). He [i.e., Allah] sent us with His religion to His creation so that we may call them to it. Whoever accepts it, then we accept it from him, we desist [from fighting him], leave him to his land, and let him govern it as he pleases. As for he who refuses, then we continue fighting him until we attain Allah’s promise… paradise to those who died fighting those who have refused, and victory for those who have remained alive

(al-Ṭabarī 1879–1901b, p. 34).

Even if we are to accept that the Muslims were “driven by hunger and misery, by the desperate necessity of escaping from the fiery prison of the desert which could no longer sustain them,” (Caetani 2007, p. 10) they may still have viewed the riches they were about to inherit from the conquered lands as a trust granted to them by God that they had to honour. One of course cannot deny that there may have been abuses by soldiers in the Muslim armies, and in that regard, the Chronicle of Thomas the Presbyter informs us that during the Caliphate of ‘Umar, when “the Arabs invaded all Syria and went down to Persia and conquered it… the Arabs killed many monks in Qedar and Bnātā.” (Penn 2015, p. 28). Clearly some Muslims disobeyed the orders that were given to them, and just like the Sasanians, found it economically expedient to raid monasteries and churches and take their riches. The emphasis in the Covenants on the protection of the non-Muslims’ places of worship, the exemption of monks from the the jizya, and the requirement that it be levied from free able-bodied men according to their financial capability clearly held no economic advantage to the Muslims, but appears to have been driven by a sense of justice, mirroring the last verse of sūrat al-Ḥajj: “Strive in the path of Allah in truth (wa jāhidū fī-l-Lāhi ḥaqq jihādihi)” (Q22:78).

7. On Breaking Covenants and Treaties

The early Muslim worldview appears to have attached great importance to Covenants and treaties as a means of ensuring peaceful relations among various tribes and religious communities. The violation of a treaty of protection by non-Muslims was therefore akin to treason and bore dire consequences. The status of the Jews of Madīna is a case in point, and in his Accord with the Christians of Najrān, the Prophet recalls how the three Jewish tribes of Madīna betrayed their Covenant with him:

After that they took it upon themselves to have the Messenger of Allah killed. They supported the polytheists from Quraysh and other tribes in their enmity against him and did their best to oppose and knowingly deny him. Their recompense was to be deprived of the Covenant of Allah and to be cast out of His protection. Their conduct on the day of Ḥunayn and the battles which involved the tribes of Banū al-Qa‘qa‘ [i.e., Qaynuqā‘], [Banū] Qurayẓa, and [Banū] al-Naḍr [i.e., al-Naḍīr] were led by their chiefs who lent their support to the enemies of Allah among the people of Makka and who were resolute in making war against the Messenger of Allah. They offered them financial and military assistance against the Messenger of Allah, thereby declaring their enmity against the believers

(Scher 1911, p. 604 [284]).

The tribal alliances between the polytheists and the Jews of Arabia are captured in the Qurʾān: “Surely you will find the fiercest opponents to the believers to be the Jews and the polytheists [Q5:82].” Since the Qurʾān does not employ distinct terminology to differentiate between the various Jewish groups of the time, it would be a grave misinterpretation to read this verse as a blanket judgment on all Jews across all times and places. Rather, it addresses the stance adopted by some Jewish tribes in Arabia, though by no means all of them.

Ibn Ḥajar al-‘Asqalānī (d. 1449) reports that “when the Prophet arrived in Madīna, he made a truce with the Jews who refused to follow him and he wrote a writ between them. This was with the three tribes of Qaynuqā‘, al-Naḍīr, and Qurayẓa. All three of them broke their Covenant (al-‘ahd), one after the other. The Prophet was compassionate when it came to the Banū Qaynuqā‘, he exiled the Banū al-Naḍīr, and he eliminated the Banū Qurayẓa.” (al-ʻAsqalānī 1960b, p. 275). ‘Alī b. Burhān al-Dīn al-Ḥalabī (d. 1635) reports in Al-Sīra al-Ḥalabiyya:

The Messenger of Allah wrote a document between the Muhājirīn and the Anṣār, and he included in it the Jews, namely the Banū Qaynuqā‘,the Banū Qurayẓa and the Banū al-Naḍīr. He established with them a truce (ṣālaḥahum) that they would not make war or harm [the Muslims]. This entailed that he would not make war against them or harm them, and that they would not support anyone against him. If an enemy was to gather an army against him, then they would come to his aid. He made a Covenant with them (‘āhadahum) in which he secured their religion and their wealth. This was reported through a copy of the writ (qad dhukira fī al-aṣl ṣūrat al-kitāb)

(al-Ḥalabī 2006, p. 124).

Michael Lecker has argued that the Prophet formulated non-belligerency treaties with these three Jewish tribes because they were non-signatories to the Constitution of Madīna (Lecker 1997), but regardless of whether or not they were actually subject to the Constitution of Madīna, the Banū Qaynuqā‘, the Banū al-Naḍīr, and the Banū Qurayẓa would have been obliged not to betray the Muslims even if there was no obligation on them to assist the Muslims in their military campaigns.

The sources report that the expulsion of the Banū Qaynuqā‘ occurred after the Battle of Badr, though according to al-Ḥākim al-Naysābūrī (d. 1014) the Banū Qaynuqā‘ and the Banū al-Naḍīr were both expelled at the same time (al-ʻAsqalānī 1960b, p. 332). According to al-Balādhurī (d. 892), there is a difference of opinion whether the rabbi Mukhayrīq belonged to the Banū [Tha‘laba ibn] al-Fiṭyawn, the Banū al-Naḍīr, or the Banū Qaynuqā‘ (al-Balādhurī 1996, p. 325). Ibn Ḥajar believed he was among the remnants of the Banū Qaynuqā‘ who after their exile remained with the Banū al-Naḍīr (al-ʻAsqalānī 1960a, p. 203). It appears unlikely that the entire tribe of the Banū Qaynuqā‘ was exiled, for Ibn Sa‘d reports how ‘Abdullāh b. Ubayy b. Salūl offered the assistance of 600 men of the Banū Qaynuqā‘ to fight during the Battle of Uḥud.12 The Prophet is said to have refused, but this seems unlikely given Mukhayrīq’s participation in the battle. He was unlikely to have been an isolated case, rather, it is more plausible that he would have been part of a broader detachment of Madīnan Jews.

Although the reasons for the Banū Qaynuqā‘ having violated their treaty are not particularly clear in the sources, we do nevertheless get a clearer picture in the case of the Banū al-Naḍīr. Al-Tha‘labī reports the following concerning the revelation of Q59:1–5:

When the Prophet arrived in Madīna, the Banū al-Naḍīr made peace with him on the condition that they would not fight him but that they also would not fight with him. The Messenger of Allah accepted this from them, but when he fought at Badr and was successful over the polytheists, they said: “Surely he is the prophet whose description we find in the Torah, whose banner will never fall [i.e., he will never be defeated].” However, when the Battle of Uḥud occurred and the Muslims were defeated, they became doubtful, hypocritical, and showed their enmity to the Messenger of Allah and the believers. They then broke the Covenant (wa naqaḍū al- ‘ahd) that was between them and the Messenger of Allah

(al-Tha‘labī 2002d, pp. 266–67).

Al-Tha‘labī suggests that the Banū al-Naḍīr played a passive role during the Battle of Uḥud, which as we shall see, may not have been the case. He continues:

Ka‘b b. al-Ashraf went to Makka with forty Jewish riders and met with the Quraysh. He made an alliance and formulated a contract with them, that whatever they decree concerning Muḥammad should be unanimous. Abū Sufyān entered [this agreement] along with forty of his men, and Ka‘b with forty men from among the Jews in the Masjid [al-Ḥaram] and they took an oath (mīthāq) among themselves between the cloth that covers the Ka‘ba and its wall. Ka‘b b. al-Ashraf then returned to Madīna with his Companions, but Gabriel informed the Prophet of the contract that he had made with Abū Sufyān and ordered him to kill Ka‘b b. al-Ashraf. The person who killed him was his foster brother Muḥammad b. Maslama al-Anṣārī

(Ibid., p. 267).

Al-Tha‘labī clarifies elsewhere that Ka‘b’s assassination was after Badr but before Uḥud (al-Tha‘labī 2002a, p. 141). This may suggest that Ka‘b may have attempted to rally the Jews of the Banū al-Naḍīr against the Muslims through his poetry, but after his assassination, the situation somewhat settled until the Battle of Uḥud. MJ Kister notes in his analysis of Document no. 5 of the ‘Studies in Arabic Literary Papyri’ how the passage relating to the Banū al-Naḍīr ought to read “…and they sent secretly to the Quraish when they encamped at Uḥud in order to fight the Prophet and they incited them to fight and showed them the weak spots.” (Kister 1964, p. 234; Also see: al-Bayhaqī 2003, p. 337). Perhaps it was this act of betrayal that eventually resulted in the tribe’s expulsion from Madīna.

Needless to say, the worst type of treason was met by the Banū Qurayẓa at a time when the Muslims could have potentially faced extinction during the Battle of al-Aḥzab. Much has been said concerning the number of those killed. Walid Arafat was the first to dispute the integrity of the traditional account about the Banū Qurayẓa’s demise (Arafat 1976) which was elaborated upon by Barakat Ahmad in his book Muḥammad and the Jews: A Re-examination. Kister refuted both Arafat and Ahmad and though he regarded the figures of 600, 800, or 900 men provided by Ibn Isḥāq as gross exaggerations, he nevertheless believed the correct number of those executed was around 400 (Kister 1986).13 A crucial piece of evidence not taken into consideration by any of these scholars comes from Ibn Zanjawayh (d. 865) in his Kitāb al-Amwāl on the authority of Ibn Shihāb al-Zuhrī (d. 742):

The Messenger of Allah went early in the morning to the Banū Qurayẓa until they acquiesced to the ruling of Sa‘d b. Mu‘ādh who judged that their men be killed, and that their children and wealth be distributed [among the Muslims]. Forty men were killed on that day except for ‘Amr b. Sa‘d. The Messenger of Allah said: “He commanded that the treaty be upheld and he prohibited treason. It is because of this that he was saved.” The Messenger of Allah put al-Zubayr [b. Bāṭiyyā] under the guardianship of Thābit b. Qays b. Shammās who freed him. This is because al-Zubayr protected him on the day of Bu‘āth. He said to al-Zubayr: “I am now reciprocating what you did for me on the day of Bu‘āth.” Al-Zubayr then said: “Will I now live without my family and without any money?” The Messenger of Allah said: “He will be given back his family and money if he embraces Islam.” Thābit then told al-Zubayr: “The Messenger of Allah has now returned to you your family and wealth.” Al-Zubayr asked: “What happened to Ka‘b b. Asad, Abū Nāfi‘, Abū Yāsir, and Ibn Abī al-Ḥuqayq?” Thābit replied: “They have been killed.” Al-Zubayr then said: “Will I live the rest of my life without them? I do not think I can endure such a life. Stop eating and take a sharp sword. I am now free of your protection (fa-qad bari’tu min dhimmatik).” Thābit said: “He was then given to Maḥīṣa, the brother of Banū Ḥāritha b. al-Ḥārith, who then killed him.”

(Ibn Zanjawayh 1986, p. 461; ‘Ubayd 1989, pp. 193–94)14

The fate of the Banū Qaynuqā‘, the Banū al-Naḍīr, and the Banū Qurayẓa resulting in either their expulsion, confiscation of wealth and property, or the death penalty for their combatants, was the outcome of a breach of treaty. The only way of reversing the punishment that was decreed upon them was conversion to Islam, which was offered to al-Zubayr when he was given the option to retrieve his freedom and wealth. It is therefore particularly significant how al-Zubayr b. Bāṭiyyā exclaimed “I am now free of your protection (fa-qad bari’tu min dhimmatik),” an expression that we find echoed in the Covenants of the Prophet when he declares that whoever violates his Covenant, then such a person is free of his protection (El-Wakil 2019). Al-Zubayr knew that by embracing Islam he would be entering into a new Covenant, but he refused to do so which warranted his execution.

8. Rebellion and Apostasy

At the dawn of Islam, the polytheists of Arabia stood in varying relations to the Muslims. Some entered into treaties with the Prophet and were thereby granted protection. Others repeatedly violated their agreements, leaving them with only two options: embracing Islam or, following armed confrontation, facing enslavement and loss of property. A third hypothetical category are tribes that fought the Muslims without any prior treaty. Unlike the People of the Book, who even after fighting the Muslims and siding with the polytheists for strategic reasons still had the option to pay the jizya, the polytheist tribes did not have such a privilege, most likely due to a collective commitment and agreement to annihilate the Muslims: “Fight the polytheists collectively, as they fight you collectively (Q9:36).”

The Ka‘ba was a contested sanctuary whose idols the Quraysh sought to preserve and which the Prophet intended to destroy. In theory, polytheist places of worship could have been protected, but since the polytheists were determined to keep Makka idolatrous, they naturally aligned themselves with the Quraysh, who, as early as the Battle of Badr, are described in the Qurʾān as Covenant-breakers: “The worst of all beings in the sight of Allah are those who disbelieve and will not believe: those with whom you have made a Covenant (‘āhadtahum) with, yet they break their Covenant (‘ahdahum) every time” (Q8:55–56).

It is therefore in the context of Arabian tribes allying themselves with the Quraysh who had broken their Covenants and treaties with the Muslims and fought them that we ought to understand the famous ḥadīth of the Prophet on the authority of ‘Abdullāh b. ‘Umar: “I have been commanded to fight the people [i.e., Covenant-breakers] until they testify that there is no god but Allah and that Muḥammad is the Messenger of Allah, and that they establish the prayer and pay the zakāt. If they do, then their blood and property are guaranteed protection from myself, except when justified by law, and their affairs rest with Allah.” (Muslim 2006, p. 32)15 Our understanding of this tradition should be read in parallel with Q9:1–5 in which the Muslims are commanded to fight the polytheists who have breached their Covenants until “they repent, establish the prayer, and pay the zakāt” (Q9:5). Once they do, either through conviction or for practical reasons, their idols are destroyed. The acceptance of Islam by Covenant-breakers thus signifies them entering into a new Covenant with God and the Prophet that secures their lives, wealth, and property, despite all their past wrongdoings.

What then if after embracing Islam and agreeing to its terms and conditions, they violate their new Covenant? This could have been done in three ways. The first was for them to revert to their old ways of plunder, which would have included murder, armed robbery, sexual violence, and the spread of terror and lawlessness without actually leaving the religion of Islam. Such actions have been classified as falling under ḥirāba in Islamic law which can be translated as “banditry” or “armed robbery,” and in a modern context as “terrorism.” Traditionally, Islamic scholars have understood Q5:33 as prescribing the punishment for ḥirāba.

The second was insurgency (al-baghī) against authority by either not recognizing or attempting to overthrow the Muslim ruler and refusing to acknowledge his legitimacy over the community.16 As the pledge of allegiance was a binding Covenant, ‘Alī b. Abī Ṭalib justified his war against Ṭalḥa b. ‘Ubaydullāh and al-Zubayr b. al-‘Awwām after the assassination of ‘Uthmān for having rescinded it after accepting him as Caliph. ‘Alī also wrote to Mu‘āwiya informing him that the pledge of allegiance was binding on him even though he was not present in Madīna because the Muhājirīn and the Anṣār had recognized his authority, and so, by extension, the pledge of allegiance automatically applied on him and his subjects in al-Shām (Ibn Muzāḥim al-Minqarī 1382, pp. 28–29). The laws of civil warfare against rebels were clearly elaborated under ‘Alī’s Caliphate when he prohibited his troops from taking the rebels’ possessions and enslaving their women and children. During the Umayyad period, as is evidenced by the way ‘Abdullāh b. al-Zubayr and later Zayd b. ‘Alī were crucified, it appears rebels were punished in the same manner as bandits, by appealing to Q5:33.

The third was apostasy (al-ridda), which should not be viewed in the formative years of Islam as the peaceful transition to another religion, but rather as a breach of Covenant that amounted to political treason.17 Al-Wāqidī and al-Ṭabarī report what appears to be two recensions of a letter Abū Bakr wrote to apostates, warning them prior to attacking them, to either return to Islam or face dire consequences. Al-Wāqidī’s recension reads:

Whoever refuses to return to Islam after having been invited and warned by Khālid b. al-Walīd, I have commanded him [i.e., Khālid], together with those who are with him and who support and uphold the religion of Allah, to fight them with the fiercest force. He is not to leave anyone he is able to overpower except that he burns them completely with fire (illā aḥraqahu bi-l-nār iḥrāqan), takes their women and children captive, and seizes their wealth. Whoever has issued such a warning has discharged himself of responsibility and bears no blame thereafter

(al-Wāqidī 1990, p. 72).

Al-Ṭabarī’s recension reads:

Whoever refuses [to return to Islam], I have ordered [the commander of the army] to fight him on that account and to leave no one whom he can overpower: to burn them with fire (wa an yuḥriqahum bi-l-nār), kill them to the last man, and take their women and children captive. He is to accept nothing from anyone other than Islam. Whoever follows it will find it better for him, whoever abandons it, Allah will not be affected in any way

(al-Ṭabarī 1879–1901a, p. 482).

A separate letter of Abū Bakr that he sent to the commander of his army states:

Whoever refuses [to return to Islam], fight him. If Allah grants [the commander] victory over them, he shall kill those among them in a deadly manner, using weapons and fire (bi-l-silāḥ wa-l-nīrān)

(Ibid.).

As we do not have the original manuscripts of Abū Bakr’s correspondence, it is impossible to know exactly what was written therein.18 A natural question that arises is whether Abū Bakr and the early Muslims did indeed punish their enemies by burning them alive. As the Prophet said, “No one punishes with fire except the Lord of fire,” (al-Bukhārī 2002, ḥadīth nos. 3016 and 3017, 743) it may well be that he permitted the cremation of bodies post-execution in certain cases or the use of fire as a military tactic to drive the enemy from their strongholds.

Support for the first interpretation can be derived from the fate of the members of the tribe of ‘Urayna or ‘Akl who according to one report were apparently “burned with fire after he [i.e., the Prophet] killed them.” (al-Qurṭubī 2006a, p. 432). We find, however, greater support for the second interpretation, which allows the use of incendiary weapons to force the enemy to abandon and flee their military positions. One ḥadīth reports that Usāma b. Zayd was ordered by the Prophet to raid the settlement of Ubnā at dawn and set it ablaze (Ibn ‘Asākir 1995a, pp. 47–49). He is also said to have ordered the burning of the Banū al-Naḍīr’s palm trees to force them to surrender (al-Bukhārī 2002, ḥadith nos. 4031 and 4032, 988). Al-Tha‘labī relays another case in point in his exegesis of Q9:107 where he describes the burning of al-Ḍirār Mosque:

So the Messenger of Allah called Mālik b. al-Dukhshum, Ma‘n b. ‘Adī, ‘Āmir b. al-Sakan, and al-Waḥshī, the killer of Ḥamza, and said to them: “Go to that mosque whose people are unjust: destroy it and burn it!” They quickly departed and reached Sālim b. ‘Awf and the retinue of Mālik b. al-Dukhshum. Mālik told them: “Wait while I fetch fire from my household.” He entered his house, took a palm-frond, and kindled it. They set out and inquired about the whereabouts of the mosque until they found it. They entered it while its people were still inside. They burned and razed it, with its people dispersing from it. The Prophet commanded that it be converted into a dunghill for carrion, filth, and refuse

(al-Tha‘labī 2002b, pp. 92–93).

Had the early Muslims burned apostates alive, then the most coherent explanation–despite the lack of direct evidence–is that it was a retaliatory measure against those who had themselves burned Muslims alive. Nevertheless, the problem still endures: Had the Companions burned people alive, even if it was retaliatory, would have contradicted the Prophet’s prohibition, and it is unconvincing to suggest that they were unaware or ignorant of it.19 As a consequence of the lack of textual evidence, we are left with no choice but to employ our reason to reconcile and harmonize the apparent incoherencies of the historical reports, and propose that burning the enemy alive may never have actually taken place.20

Taking the enemies’ women and children into captivity in Abū Bakr’s letter(s) is no doubt disturbing by contemporary standards. However, it should be borne in mind that when the Qurʾān was revealed, it made significant reforms to the institution of slavery, including the prohibition of taking captives outside the legitimate bounds of warfare, which appears to have been clarified following the Battle of Badr. Although Q8:67–69 are generally understood as the Prophet having accepted Abū Bakr’s preference for taking prisoners and ransom after Badr, and rejecting ‘Umar’s opinion to have them executed, this traditional reading appears in conflict with Q47:4:

So when you meet the disbelievers [in battle] strike their necks until you have thoroughly subdued them (athkhantumūhum). After that bind them securely, then either release them as an act of grace or accept a ransom so that the burdens of war may be eased.

Set against Q47:4, we could argue that Q8:67’s declaration that “It is not lawful for a prophet to take captives until he has thoroughly subdued (yuthkhin) [the enemy] in the land,” as instructing the believers never to take captives except in a state of lawful warfare.

The incident at Nakhla, in the month of Rajab, two months before Badr, was condemned in Q2:217 for its timing during the sacred month. Q8:67 could thus have clarified to the Muslims that taking prisoners is only permissible after open combat, which would not have been the case had Abū Sufyān’s caravan been seized beforehand.21 In such a case, the Muslims would have been the first to violate the īlāf or trade agreements (ḥibāl) between Makka and Madīna (Lecker 1996). However, once the parties had formally entered into a state of war, these obligations no longer applied: the enemy could be attacked and prisoners taken during raids, but as the Qurʾān makes clear, only targeted operations were allowed:

O you who believe! When you go forth in the way of Allah, be discerning, and do not say to those who offer you peace, “You are not a believer,” seeking worldly gain. With Allah are abundant spoils of war. You yourselves were once like them, then Allah bestowed His grace upon you. So be discerning! Surely Allah is fully aware of what you do.

[Q4:94]

Reading Q8:67 in parallel with Q47:4, and Q8:68 in conjunction with Q4:94, could thus be emphasizing that raids against targeted caravans are only lawful in a state of war. Q8:69 immediately declares the acceptance of ransom as lawful and pure (ḥalālan ṭayyiban), which was permissible after the Battle of Badr, but which would not have been the case had the caravan been raided at a time when no open hostilies had taken place.

Finally, the Qurʾān commended the believers for “giving food–out of love for Him–to the poor, the orphan, and the captive [Q76:8].” Slavery was an already existing institution, and in the aftermath of war, women and children were left destitute. The ideal would of course have been the abolishment of slavery, but practically speaking, the best that could be done at that time was to reform it. Slaves therefore became part of Muslim households and it was obligatory for Muslims to treat them well (Q4:36). The Qurʾān also encouraged Muslims to free slaves (Q 90:11–13, 4:92, 5:89, and 58:3). As for the seizure of wealth, this would have been in the majority of cases lands that were incorporated into the public treasury. We cannot of course judge these practices by modern ideals, and it is therefore crucial to situate them within the norms of late antique warfare, where enslavement and confiscation of wealth and property were common features of conquest. There is ample literature on slavery in Islam, but it appears that within the context of the Qur’ān and the early Muslim worldview, it was perceived as lawful and justifiable when conducted under the rules of legitimate warfare.

9. A Just Peace

Regardless of whether Muslim hegemony was established peacefully (ṣulḥan) or by force (‘anwatan), Q9:29 makes it clear that any post-conflict arrangement necessitates payment of the jizya, which a priori presupposes the existence of a treaty. One presumes that the terms of the treaty were more favorable if it was negotiated ṣulḥan rather than ‘anwatan. Accordingly, we find that Khālid b. al-Walīd’s treaty with the people of Damascus was concluded in the midst of ongoing hostilities (Zein and El-Wakil 2020a), and a letter he sent during combat against the Sasanians explicitly calls for the resolution of warfare through a treaty:

In the name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful. From Khālid b. al-Walīd to all the leaders of Persia. Peace be on those who follow the right guidance. To proceed: Praise be to Allah who has severed your unity, destroyed your might, brought what you were plotting to naught, broke your strength, made your swords blunt, and divided your resolve. Know that whoever prays our prayer, faces our direction of prayer, eats the food we ritually slaughter, proclaims the same declaration of faith as we do, and believes in our prophet, peace be upon him, then we are a part of him and he is a part of us. He is a Muslim who has the same rights and obligations as we do. If you refuse, then I have sent this letter to you as an admonition and warning, therefore send me those whom you have captured, make a contract of protection with me (wa a‘taqidū minnī al-dhimma), and give the jizya (adā’ al-jizya), otherwise I will come against you with a people who love death as you love life. Those who have been warned are those that will be excused. Peace

(al-Wāqidī 1990, p. 225).

As it seems unlikely that the early Muslims sought to enter into a perpetual state of war with their newly conquered subjects, the implementation of treaties with fair terms and conditions must have been envisaged once hostilities ceased and a post-war order emerged. It is therefore reasonable to conclude that the treaties issued during the early conquests, from the time of Abū Bakr to Muʿāwiya, were shaped by the archetypal relationship between Muslim rulers and their non-Muslim subjects articulated in the Covenants. The establishment of a just peace necessarily included the protection of places of worship alluded to in Q22:39–41.

This framework is corroborated by the extensive direct and indirect references to the Covenants in Christian historical works. The Catholicos Isho‘yahb III, for example, observes that Muslims are “no enemy to Christianity, but they are even praisers of our faith, honorers of our Lord’s priests and holy ones, and supporters of churches and monasteries.” (Penn 2015, p. 36) The “Jerusalem 32” inscription which commemorates the Capitulation Treaty with the People of Jerusalem and dates from the year 652–653, states that the city’s inhabitants have been granted “the protection of Allah and the guarantee of His messenger (dhimmat Allāh wa ḍamān rasūlihi).” (Sharon 2018, p. 101). This inscription complements Sebeos, who notes:

They [i.e., the Children of Ishmael] crossed the Jordan and camped at Jericho. Then dread of them fell on all the inhabitants of the land, and they all submitted to them. That night the people of Jerusalem took in flight the Lord’s Cross and all the vessels of the churches of God. Setting sail on the sea in ships, they brought them to the palace of Constantinople. Then, having requested an oath [erdumn–to be understood here as having entered a covenantal relationship] from them, they submitted to them

(Thomson and Howard-Johnston 1999).

John Bar Penkāyē, a monk with the Assyrian Church of the East who lived during the Caliphate Mu‘āwiya, expresses how “Prior to summoning them [i.e., the Muslims], [God] had previously prepared them to hold Christians in honor. Thus there also carefully came from God a certain commandment that they should hold our monastic order in honor.” (Penn 2015, pp. 88–89). He then states how Mu‘āwiya “allowed everyone to conduct himself as he wanted. For, as I said above, they upheld a certain commandment [i.e., Covenant] from him who was their guide [i.e., the Prophet Muḥammad] concerning the Christian people and the monastic order.” (Ibid., p. 92). He adds: “But from everyone they only demanded tribute [i.e., the jizya]. They allowed [each] to remain in whatever faith he wished.” (Ibid.)

P. Nessana 77, which is dated no later than the year 690, records a letter by a government official named Bayyān b. Qays rebuking two men under his authority for having financially abused the inhabitants of the town. He writes that “the people of Naṣān [i.e., Nessana] have the protection of Allah and the protection of His mess[eng]er (dhimmat Allāh wa dhimmat rasūlihi). So do not reckon that we acquiesce to your corruption and injustice in respect of it.” (Hoyland 2015, at 58, lines 11–13)22.

The Disputation between a Muslim and a Monk of Bēt Ḥālē, written in the late eighth or early ninth century, has its Muslim interlocutor say to the monk: “Truly you possess the truth, and it is no error, as (some) people have supposed! And Muḥammad our prophet also said: ‘As for those who live in monasteries, and those who dwell on the mountains, they will enjoy the kingdom’.” (Taylor 2015, p. 237). The great esteem accorded to monks in this exchange is contextualized in an eleventh century manuscript within the framework of the Covenants through the following tradition attributed to the Prophet: “The protected people (ahl al-dhimma) suffered [in the past] grave injustice. They suffered many trials but remained patient. Of them are priests and monks. They are the ones who are secured and honoured on the Day of Judgement. Their spiritual light is above all lights. Whoever is unjust to them, I shall be his foe and an advocate against him (man ẓalamahum fa-anā khaṣmuhu wa-ḥajījuhu ʿalā dhālika).” (Zein and El-Wakil 2023, p. 161). The Short and Long Arabic recensions of the Legend of Sergius Baḥīra which appeared between the ninth and eleventh centuries reference the Covenant (‘ahd) that the Prophet gave to the monk Baḥīra (Roggema 2009, pp. 428–429, 526–527). The legendary Life of Gabriel of Qartmin (d. 648), which was written after the ninth century (Hoyland 2019, footnote 19), describes how he received a Covenant from ‘Umar (Ibid., p. 98). This Covenant is briefly mentioned by Bar Hebraeus (Barhebraei 1877a, p. 122; Hebraeus 2016, p. 44), and its contents detailed in MS 375 (MS 375 n.d., Bibliothèque Nationale de France, folios 99–102; Nau 1915, pp. 274–79), again denoting the great respect granted to monks by the early Muslims.

John of Nikiu’s Chronicle, which has “a terminus post quem of 642,” (Yirga 2020, p. 13) but nevertheless appears to have been edited after that date, reports a treaty that ‘Amr b. al-‘Āṣ concluded with the people of Alexandria that reads very similarly to ‘Umar’s Capitulation Treaty with the People of Jerusalem, specifying that the “Moslem were to desist from seizing Christian Churches.” (Chronicle of John 1916, p. 194). Despite John holding a negative view of ‘Amr, he nonetheless admits that he “took none of the property of the Churches, and he committed no act of spoliation or plunder, and he preserved them throughout all his days.” (Ibid., p. 200). Severus ibn al-Muqaffa‘ (d. 987) reports in The History of the Patriarchs of the Coptic Church of Alexandria how the Prophet ordered his followers to establish a Covenant with the people of Egypt (Ibn al-Muqaffa‘ 1907, p. 230), and that ‘Amr granted a Covenant to Pope Benjamin I stating that he has “the security and the peace of Allah. He can return to his position secure and with full reassurance that he will manage the affairs of his churches and administer his flock.” (Ibid., pp. [231–32], 495–96)23.

‘Abdullāh al-Hāshimī informs the Christian apologist ‘Abd al-Masīḥ al-Kindī, in his epistle which he wrote around 830, that “The Christians are those who our Prophet praised and to whom he generously gave Covenants and pledges (wa a‘ṭāhum al-‘uhūd wa-l-mawāthīq). He granted them protection (ja‘ala lahum min al-dhimma) on his own account and that of his Companions, and stressed the importance of upholding it. He wrote for them documents and officially confirmed them. When he was granted strength and authority, he officially gave the Christians these guarantees.” (Tartar 1977, p. 11)24 He adds:

Our Prophet, peace be upon him, gave them what he did of Covenants and pledges (wa a‘ṭāhum al-‘uhūd wa-l-mawāthīq), placing them under his care and the care of his Companions. This was a Testament (al-waṣiyya) which he made when Allah revealed to him their sincerity and honest dealings with him. We completely accept the Testament which he gave, we neither dispute it nor deny it. We accept his command, we follow his sunna, abide by this Testament (al-waṣiyya), and take it upon ourselves to uphold this truth

(Tartar 1977, p. 12).25

Patriarch Nicholas I of Constantinople (d. 925) mentions the Prophet’s Covenant in his letter rebuking the ‘Abbāsid Caliph al-Muqtadir bi-l-Lāh (d. 932), which he wrote in July 922, referring to “the assurance of safety originally granted by your Prophet to those who became your subjects and live beneath you sway … You are cancelling the written assurance of safety given by your Prophet, and great is the dishonour and violation of that justice which you ought to honour.” (Nicholas I Patriarch of Constantinople 1973, pp. 380–81)26 Agapius of Hierapolis, the Melkite bishop of the northern Syrian city of Manbij (d. 941), explicitly states how the Prophet granted during his lifetime Covenants to different religious communities:

The Arabs mobilized at Yathrib. Head of them was a man called Muḥammad ibn ‘Abdullāh and he became their chief and king … Christians from among the Arabs as well as other people came to him. He granted them protection and wrote for them documents, and he did so to all other nations that opposed him. By that I mean the Jews, Magi, Sabaeans, and others. They gave him allegiance and took from him a guarantee of safety on the condition that they would pay him the jizya and the kharāj (land tax)

(Agapius 1909, pp. 456–57 [196–97]; Hoyland 2011, p. 87).27

Agapius’ statement was reiterated by the Coptic historian Jirjis al-Makīn b. al-ʿAmīd (Ibn al-‘Amīd 1625, p. 3) who adds:

Christian chronicles report that he was benevolent and compassionate to them so they sent delegations to him requesting his protection. In return he imposed on them the jizya, was gracious to them, and wrote for them documents to guarantee their protection. He informed ‘Umar: ‘Say to them that their lives, wealth and honour is exactly the same as ours’ … He also said ‘Whoever oppresses a protected person he shall be his foe on the Day of Judgment (man ẓalama dhimmiyyan kāna khaṣmahu yawm al-qiyāma)’, and ‘Whoever harms a protected person has harmed me (man adhā dhimmiyyan fa-qad ādhānī)’.”

(Ibid., p. 11)28

A ninth-century manuscript (Penn 2008, p. 65) which according to Penn, most scholars suggest “witnesses, however distantly, a real encounter between the Patriarch John [Sedra (d. 648)] and a Muslim emir,” (Ibid., p. 77) informs us how “the glorious emir” told the Patriarch to “show me that your own laws are written in the gospel and be guided by them or submit to the Hagarene law.” (Ibid., p. 89) This right to self-autonomy, which is in conformity with the Covenants, is attested in The Life of Theodotus of Amida, who died in 698:

Again, the man in authority over all the east wrote to Amida about Bishop Theodotus as follows: “I order that the laws of Amida and of (that) whole province be given by the righteous man who has been appointed its bishop, for I have heard that he is no respecter of persons. That is why I have given him jurisdiction over the Christians.” By this time, everyone had acquired a healthy respect for Theodotus. The ruling class, the officials and those who attended upon the men who have power in this world obeyed his orders; and the city and its province were preserved from disaster

(Hoyland and Palmer 2023, p. 236).

The Chronicle of Seert, which was composed around the tenth century, reproduces the Prophet’s Accord (Scher 1911, pp. [282–90], 602–10) and Covenant with the Christians of Najrān (Ibid., pp. [290–98], 610–18), both of which were discovered by a monk who previously worked as a keeper of manuscripts in Bayt al-Ḥikma in 878 or 879 (Ibid., p. [281], 601), as well as ‘Umar’s Covenant with the Christians of Mesopotamia (Ibid., pp. [300–303], 620–23). The Kitāb al-Majdal written around the twelfth century confirms that the Catholicos Ishoʿyahb II of Gdala (d. 645) corresponded with the Prophet, and how “ʿUmar wrote for him a document confirming their security and protection, stipulating that the jizya was not to be taken from his brothers, servants, or followers. This document has been preserved up to the present time.” (Ibn Sulaymān et al. 1899, p. 62). It also mentions how ‘Alī wrote to his successor Mārāmeh (d. 649) granting him “custodianship over the Christians and safeguarding their dhimma. He [i.e., Mārāmeh] would present this document to every commander and leader who assumed authority, and they would act in accordance with it.” (Ibid.). Though this is chronologically impossible, as ‘Alī became Caliph in 656, we have to assume that any Covenant he granted was to his successor Ishoʿyahb III.

The preservation and circulation of early covenantal material can be found in Bar Hebraeus, who provides a detailed summary of the contents of the Covenant with the Christians of Najrān in the Chronicle of Seert (Barhebraei 1877b, pp. 116–18; Hebraeus 2016, p. 344), and Eutychius, who records in his Annals the texts of ‘Umar’s Capitulation Treaty with the People of Jerusalem (Eutychius 1909, p. 17) and Khālid’s Treaty with the People of Damascus (Ibid., p. 15). Finally, an observation made by the Armenian historian Samuel of Ani (d. 1185), which mirrors the contents of the Covenants, offers additional grounding for their historicity:

Then Mahmet stayed the sword, and by the word of his instruction they subjected to themselves the greater part of the universe. With an eternal oath he sealed a deed for the land of Armenia (that) they could freely observe Christianity. And he sold (vačareac’) them their faith, taking from every household four drachmas, three bushels of xorbal, one nose-bag, one cord of hair, and one gauntlet. But from the priests, nobles and cavalry he ordered no tax to be taken

(Thomson 1994, p. 843).

According to Sean Anthony, all texts of the Covenants are pious forgeries because they are dated after 850 and allegedly draw upon materials composed after 750. Yet a careful examination of the Covenants reveals internal features that do not accord with a post-Umayyad cultural milieu, such as the presence of Muʿāwiya as a scribe and witness. Moreover, the texts of the Covenants closely parallel the earliest non-Muslim testimonies concerning the emergence of Islam, including those of Isho‘yahb III and John Bar Penkāyē. If these testimonies do not attest to the legitimacy of the Covenants, as Anthony claims, then to what do they refer? Anthony is unable to address this question, nor can he contend that a source such as John Bar Penkāyē was later edited, for no evidence exists to support such a claim (El-Wakil 2023). He ignores these testimonies entirely and then advances the unsupported assertion that non-Muslims fabricated the Covenants and that the similarities among them reflect familiarity with a general pool of Arabic formulary, an inference grounded in a shallow engagement rather than a sustained analysis of the texts. His reconstruction requires believing that unrelated non-Muslim communities, working independently from one another, somehow mastered identical administrative formulae and then produced documents that just happen to parallel one another. This is not an argument grounded in logic or historical evidence but rather in imaginative conjecture. Anthony conveniently avoids engaging with Agapius’ testimony, which by contrast, provides a coherent historical explanation, namely that the Prophet issued distinct documents to different communities that account for their shared terminology. This premise is further reinforced by the fact that scribes such as ʿAlī and Muʿāwiya were fully conversant with this formulary, as is evident from a cross-comparison of the Covenants with the Siffīn Arbitration Agreement (Zein and El-Wakil 2022b).

Furthermore, what Patricia Crone and Martin Hinds accepted as authentic poses a direct challenge to Anthony’s conclusions. Crone remarked that the Constitution of Madīna sticks like a piece of solid rock in an accumulation of rubble,” (Crone 1980, p. 7) and Hinds judged the short version of the Siffīn Arbitration Agreement to be “substantially genuine.” (Hinds 1972). If a third set of documents display similar linguistic features, on what principled grounds are these dismissed while the Constitution of Madīna and Siffīn Arbitration Agreement accepted? Anthony offers no consistent criterion for doing so. His reading of the Covenant with the Jews of Khaybar and Maqnā is limited to surface-level analysis and does not demonstrate substantive familiarity with the document or its context, leaving his interpretation methodologically flawed.29 Faced with these difficulties, Anthony makes no attempt to resolve them. Instead, he relies on academic sophistry to position himself among the heirs of Lorenzo Valla, turning to ad hominem remarks and ridicule, which, for him, appear to perform all duties normally assigned to evidence, logic, and critical inquiry.30

Given that Anthony’s criticisms offer neither meaningful insight nor serious scholarly engagement, his submission, styled as a book review, bears more resemblance to a polemical smear than to a considered academic appraisal and therefore cannot be allowed to obscure the cumulative weight of the evidence. In the absence of a serious academic rebuttal, the extant texts of the Covenants should be regarded as faithful transmissions of early documents that illuminate the early Muslim worldview These texts, together with the historical testimonies that accompany them, indicate that non-Muslim communities enjoyed considerable autonomy in managing their internal affairs in the immediate post-conquest period. This, in turn, suggests that the more restrictive measures elaborated by later jurists were subsequent developments shaped by the administrative and ideological demands of empire building (El-Wakil et al. 2024). As Simon Pierre points out, “No hiatus in church-construction is attested from before the conquest in the 10s–20s/630s–640s until the Second civil war (fitna, 60–72/680–92),” (Pierre 2024, p. 190) and that “during the 50s/670s, no anti-Christian regulation seems to have challenged the authority of bishops to found new churches even in the Arabian province of Baḥrayn.” (Ibid., p. 191). The Maronite Chronicle reports that in 659, when Mu‘āwiya was governor of Syria, he formalized a protection agreement with the Miaphysites (i.e., the Jacobites) in exchange for “twenty thousand denarii.” (Penn 2015, p. 57). This fiscal arrangement appears to have been part of his broader policy of pragmatic tolerance, and evidence of this is noted in the Myaphisite Chronicle of Dionysius when he tells us that Mu‘āwiya restored the Great Church at Edessa after an earthquake struck Serūgh and left it in ruins on Sunday 3 April AD 679 (Palmer et al. 1993, p. 145).

The Greek Orthodox Patriarchate of Jerusalem has preserved an edict of Mu‘āwiya issued during his Caliphate where he makes an explicit reference to the Covenants of the Prophet and ‘Umar, demonstrating their legitimacy (Papadopoulos-Kerameus 1897). John Bar Penkāyē exclaims that “justice flourished” (Penn 2015, p. 91) in the days of Mu‘āwiya, and Bishop Arculf, who visited the Holy Land in the 670s, reports how Mu‘āwiya upheld justice when he judged a dispute involving Jews and Christians over the shroud that was used to bury Christ (Adamnan 1958). The Maronite Chronicle notes that when Mu‘āwiya became Caliph, he “ascended and sat at Golgotha. He prayed there, went to Gethsemane, descended to the tomb of the blessed Mary, and prayed there.” (Penn 2015, p. 58). Mu‘āwiya did this for political reasons, and as Robert Hoyland observes, his “tour of the Christian holy sites in that city might then be interpreted as moves to re-assure the Jewish and Christian elements in the community of the leadership’s impartiality.” (Hoyland 2019, p. 556). The Chronicle of Seert observes how, following the fall of the Sasanian empire, “They [i.e., the Arabs] demanded the jizya from the protected people (ahl al-dhimma), which they duly paid, and they treated them well. By the grace of Allah Most High, state affairs stabilized and the hearts of the Christians became favorably inclined [towards them] in their kingdom. May Allah uphold it and grant it victory!” (Scher 1911, p. [262], 582).

As long as they commanded good and forbade evil, the early Muslims believed that God would extend their rule. The ideal of a just peace therefore inherently encompassed the pursuit of just rule, and this principle appears to have formed a central theological and ideological motive behind the early conquests. As one tradition of the Prophet affirms: “‘Shall I not inform you of the most noble conduct and character of the people of this world and the Hereafter?’ They said, ‘Tell us, O Messenger of Allah!’ He answered, ‘Spreading peace in the world!’” (al-Majlisī n.d., p. 12)31

These brief examples taken from the life of the Prophet, Rāshidūn and early Umayyad periods will have to suffice to demonstrate that the Prophet’s Covenants not only held legitimacy in early Islam, but also shaped the Muslim worldview. We cannot, therefore, reduce the motivations behind the early conquests to spreading Islam by the sword, enforcing conversions, acquiring lands and resources, and oppressing non-Muslims, for such explanations contradict the texts of the Covenants. Nor can we maintain that the early conquests were purely defensive undertakings devoid of any imperial ideology. The most sensible explanation that we are left with is that jihād in early Islam was motivated by a belief in God, the desire to establish His justice on earth, the removal of tyranny, and the creation of an enduring and just peace.

While a shift away from this early worldview and its ideals, particularly in the later Umayyad and ʿAbbāsid periods have been discussed elsewhere, it is noteworthy that a commitment to protecting non-Muslim places of worship remained a feature of Islamic governance (El-Wakil et al. 2024). It is beyond the limits of this article to provide further examples from the history of Muslim rule. Other studies have identified, however, the sustained reference to the covenantal paradigm in the decrees of later Muslim rulers, including during the Fāṭimid Caliphate, Ayyūbid Sultanate, and Ottoman Empire (Rane and Zein 2025; El-Wakil et al. 2024). Readers are encouraged to consult the growing body of scholarly literature concerning Covenants in the Qurʾān, the Covenants of the Prophet, and the renewal and continued recognition of the Prophet’s Covenants in later periods of Islamic governance.

10. Conclusions

This article has explored the ideological reasons behind the early Muslim conquests by placing Q22:39–41 and the Prophet’s Covenants at the core of its analysis. By applying a synchronic comparative framework to a wide array of historical sources, it has sought to reconstruct a coherent early Muslim worldview that elucidates the conceptual motivations for jihād. While certain texts and actions may sit uneasily with modern sensibilities, the evidence suggests that the conquests rested on a moral and theological framework. As argued here, jihād was not primarily motivated by economic gain but by belief in God and the aspiration to implement His rule on earth.

Accordingly, the early Muslims were required to issue a formal declaration of war before engaging in jihād, and once in battle, they were bound by rules of engagement that prohibited the targeting of non-combatants and sought to minimize casualties. Upon an enemy’s surrender, treaties were concluded that guaranteed protection for their lives, wealth, property, and places of worship in return for the payment of the jizya. This covenantal paradigm has consistently been attested in Qurʾānic commentaries and in Christian ecclesiastical histories since the emergence of Islam through the Middle Ages. It also appears that both sides understood that a violation of this paradigm could potentially carry severe consequences.

Overall, the early conquests were shaped by a combination of ideological, economic, diplomatic, and ethical considerations. Even where economic incentives were strong, ideological and ethical factors remained present, and the balance between them rested with the decisions of the early Caliphs.

Ultimately, in the understanding of the early Muslims, military success was conceived as a victory granted by God on the condition of obedience to Him, while political dominion was regarded as a trust bestowed by Him. As long as they upheld His commandments and acted with justice, God would bless them and sustain their reign, but if they failed, He would withdraw His blessing and end their rule.