Uncertainty about Alfarabi’s place of birth and the early years of his life notwithstanding, it is generally agreed that he was born in about 870/2561 beyond the Oxus River—either in Farab, Kazakhstan, or Faryab, Turkestan. In the course of his life, Abū Naṣr Muḥammad Ibn Muḥammad Ibn Tarkhān Ibn Awzalagh al-Fārābī moved often and thus resided in Bukhara, Marv, Haran, Baghdad, Constantinople, Aleppo, Cairo, and Damascus. The son of an army officer in the service of the Samanids, Alfarabi studied Islamic jurisprudence and music in Bukhara. He then journeyed to Marv where he studied Aristotelian logic with Nestorian Christian monks, most notably, Yūḥannā Ibn Ḥaylān.
While in his early twenties, he left Marv for Baghdad, where he continued to study logic with Ibn Ḥaylān. It is said that he began to study philosophy there by following the courses of the famous Nestorian Christian translator and student of Aristotle, Mattā Ibn Yūnus. At the same time, he improved his grasp of Arabic by studying with the prominent philologist Ibn al-Sarrāj.
Around 905/293 or 910/298, Alfarabi traveled from Baghdad to Byzantium (perhaps reaching Constantinople) to study Greek sciences and philosophy. He remained there for about eight years and then returned to Baghdad where he busied himself with teaching and writing. In about 942/330, political upheavals prompted him to leave Baghdad for Damascus. While in Damascus, he visited Aleppo. A few years later, political turmoil drove him to Egypt, where he stayed until returning to Damascus in 948/337 or 949/338. A little over a year later, in 950/339, he died in Damascus.2
Alfarabi’s learning was such that he came to be widely acclaimed as “the second teacher,” that is, second after Aristotle. Surely the most important philosopher within the Arabic-Islamic tradition, Alfarabi writes in a charming yet deceptively subtle style and couches his observations in simple language and straightforward declarative sentences. Most often, he sets forth an apparently unobjectionable story about natural and conventional things. As the exposition unfolds, it becomes apparent that Alfarabi has accounted for the natural world, political leadership, prophecy, moral virtue, civic order, the organization of the sciences, even the philosophic pursuits of Plato or Aristotle—in short, all the major subjects of interest to humans. He enumerates the reasons for which human beings associate, how civic life can best be arranged to meet the highest human needs, the ways most actual regimes differ from this best order, and why philosophy and religion nonetheless deem it best. These writings, extraordinary in their breadth and deep learning, extend through all the sciences and embrace every part of philosophy.
Alfarabi qualifies as the founder of Arabic-Islamic political philosophy because he is the first to explore the challenge to traditional philosophy presented by revealed religion, especially in its claims that the Creator provides for human well-being by means of an inspired prophet-legislator. This is especially evident in his two accounts of the old political science in the last chapter of the explicitly popular Enumeration of the Sciences. Both presuppose the validity of the traditional separation between practical and theoretical science, but neither is adequate for the radically new situation created by the appearance of revealed religion. The two accounts explain in detail the actions and ways of life needed for sound political rule to flourish, but are silent about opinions—especially the kind of theoretical opinions set forth in religion—and thus unable to point to the kind of rulership needed now that religion holds sway. Nor can either speak about the opinions or actions addressed by the jurisprudence and theology of revealed religion. These tasks require a political science that combines theoretical and practical science along with prudence and shows how they are to be ordered in the soul of the ruler.
In his Book of Religion, Alfarabi outlines this broader political science. He speaks of religious beliefs as opinions and of acts of worship as actions, noting that both are prescribed for a community by a supreme ruler or prophet. His new political science views religion as centered in a political community whose supreme ruler seems identical with the founder of a religion. Indeed, the goals and prescriptions of the supreme ruler are those of the prophet-lawgiver. All that is said or done by this supreme ruler finds justification in philosophy, and religion thus depends on philosophy—theoretical as well as practical. Similarly, by presenting the art of jurisprudence as a means to identify particular details the supreme ruler failed to regulate before his death, Alfarabi makes it depend on practical philosophy and thus to be part of this broader political science. In sum, his new political science offers a comprehensive view of the universe and identifies the practical acumen that permits the one possessing this understanding, either the supreme ruler or a successor endowed with his qualities, to rule wisely. Able to explain the various ranks of all the beings, this political science also stresses the importance of religion for uniting the citizens and for helping them attain the virtues that prolong decent political life. In the Political Regime and Principles of the Opinions of the Inhabitants of the Virtuous City, Alfarabi further illustrates the new opinions. Their core argument is best stated in the Attainment of Happiness—the first part of his famous trilogy, the Philosophy of Plato and Aristotle—by his declaration that “the idea of the philosopher, supreme ruler, prince, lawgiver, and imam is but a single idea.”3
In all these writings, the exposition is seamless. However unusual or at variance with common assumptions the account may seem, it is presented as though it were unobjectionable. Only in two writings—Selected Aphorisms and Summary of Plato’s Laws—does Alfarabi provide a glimpse into differences of opinions with respect to these various teachings. That is to say, Alfarabi’s public teaching respects the conventional opinions of his time and place. He also has another teaching at variance with this public teaching—what might be called a private teaching—that points to the shortcomings in the accepted opinions. Although he never explicitly admits to such a teaching, his rich explanation of Plato’s indirectness prompts the suspicion that he follows a similar procedure in his own writing. To grasp its contours, one must make sense of each of these writings and discern how they relate to one another.
It is therefore a special pleasure to present this translation of the Political Regime along with the Summary of Plato’s Laws as a complement to Muhsin Mahdi’s translation of the Philosophy of Plato and Aristotle, already noted, as well as the recent translation of the Selected Aphorisms, chapter 5 of the Enumeration of the Sciences, and Book of Religion, plus the ever enigmatic Harmonization of the Two Opinions of the Two Sages, Plato the Divine and Aristotle.4 Moreover, it is now possible to announce that these three volumes will soon be followed by two others, one providing a complete translation of the Book of Letters and the other a new translation of the Virtuous City—the former accompanied by the critical new Arabic edition that Muhsin Mahdi prepared before his death, but never saw into print. Desirable as it might seem to pair the translation of the Political Regime with that of the Virtuous City, given their many parallels and similarities, the juxtaposition of the former with the Summary of Plato’s Laws in the present volume permits thoughtful readers to consider Alfarabi’s transition from a discussion of what might be to what can be, much as Plato did in the Republic and the Laws. With the appearance of this volume, then, all who are desirous of learning about Alfarabi’s political teaching—able to read Arabic or not—will have accurate presentations of his basic political texts at their disposal.
One of the joys of bringing a work like this to fruition is being able to acknowledge formally all those who have helped in that process. Any mention of Alfarabi’s name immediately brings to mind that of Muhsin Mahdi, who has surely done more than any other scholar in recent years to advance our scholarly awareness, knowledge, and understanding of the “second teacher” and his writings. Indeed, Fauzi Najjar readily noted how much his own excellent edition of the Political Regime was dependent on Mahdi’s discovery of a manuscript that offered a more complete and correct reading of the text than all of the others then known. Likewise, Mahdi drew Thérèse-Anne Druart’s attention to one otherwise unknown manuscript of the Summary of Plato’s Laws and then shared a microfilm of yet another with her. His working translation of that text served as the starting point for the one presented here. It is therefore all the sadder that he did not live long enough to see this testimony of his labors come to light. To credit him with having laid the foundations for the study of Arabic and Islamic political philosophy is only to state the obvious, and it is acknowledgment he richly deserves.
The translations of the first part of the Political Regime by Miriam Galston, of the second part by Fauzi Najjar, and of the whole text by Thérèse-Anne Druart have been extraordinarily helpful as I have tried to make my way through the text. I can only hope that this new version reflects how very much I have profited from their endeavors to capture the elusive prose of the “second teacher.” Special thanks are also due Thérèse-Anne Druart for always giving such ready and gracious access to her astounding collection of recently published articles and books. Joshua Parens has been a most careful and thoughtful reader of this translation of the Political Regime, and George Saliba has patiently helped me understand some of the finer points of medieval Arabic astronomy as it relates to this elusive text. Ghada Almadbouh, Gregory McBrayer, and Alexander Orwin have assisted me by their thoughtful reading and critique of the translation of the Political Regime, as have numerous students at the University of Maryland and Georgetown University. Similarly, the contributions of Cecilia Martini Bonadeo and Philippe Vallat to the June 2014 Marquette University Abrahamic Workshop in Medieval Philosophy, along with the questions and criticisms of Richard Taylor and the other participants concerning my own presentation of the Political Regime, prompted me to reconsider many passages in the introduction and translation. Equally helpful were the contributions from the participants in the NEH Summer Institute for College and University Teachers, “Medieval Political Philosophy: Islamic, Jewish, and Christian,” held at Gonzaga University in June 2014.
In translating the Summary of Plato’s Laws, I profited from the version prepared by Muhsin Mahdi and circulated among his students as well as other interested readers over several decades. Hopefully, my additions and alterations assist our understanding and appreciation of a very elusive text. Comments from colleagues, Paul Rahe in particular, have been most helpful. For encouragement in the difficult task of composing the introduction to this all too enigmatic writing, and constant willingness to hear me out as I essayed one approach or another, I am deeply grateful to Primrose Tishman.
Most helpful in this whole endeavor has been Thomas Pangle. His thoughtful reading of the whole manuscript and pointed questions about translations as well as interpretations assisted me greatly in my efforts to present clear, cogent introductions and translations. In much the same manner, I have benefited from the judicious, thoughtful, critical reading Miriam Galston and Thérèse-Anne Druart have accorded the Political Regime and Summary of Plato’s Laws, respectively. Their generosity of spirit and gifts of sagacious counsel are deeply appreciated. I am also very grateful to Morgan Davis and Brigham Young University Press for graciously permitting me to use the material from Averroës, The Book of the Decisive Treatise: Determining the Connection between the Law and Wisdom, and Epistle Dedicatory, translation, with introduction and notes, by Charles E. Butterworth (Provo, UT: Brigham Young University Press, 2001) that appears in appendix B. Finally, it is a great pleasure to acknowledge the support of the Earhart Foundation.
My hope is that all will find some pleasure in seeing the finished pro- duct to which their efforts have contributed so much. The faults that remain are my own.
1. That is, 870 of the Common Era and 256 of the Anno Hejirae (the year 622 CE, when Muhammad and his followers fled from Mecca to Medina, which marks the beginning of the Muslim calendar).
2. For the preceding biographical observations, see Muhsin S. Mahdi, “Al-Fārābī,” in Dictionary of Scientific Biography, ed. C. C. Gillispie (New York: Charles Scribner’s, 1971), 4:523–526; and “al-Fārābī’s Imperfect State,” Journal of the American Oriental Society 110, no.4 (1990): 712–713.
3. See Alfarabi, Attainment of Happiness, sec. 58, in Alfarabi, Philosophy of Plato and Aristotle, trans. Muhsin Mahdi (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2001).
4. See Alfarabi, The Political Writings: “Selected Aphorisms” and Other Texts, trans. Charles E. Butterworth (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2001).