1 Introduction: Toward a New Definition of Translation
The Arabic translation that occurred during the Middle Ages has played a more effective role in transforming the Arabic culture than contemporary translation theory and practice, and is entirely worthy of careful and detailed description. The Arabic translators of the Middle Ages did not simply render the meanings of source texts, but they critically and creatively engaged with them. That is to say, translation was not a means of knowledge transfer where equivalence was the major priority, but rather was a tool for knowledge production whose main purpose was applying knowledge and adding to it. As Uwe Vagelpohl states, “The texts produced during the Greek-Arabic translation movement are independent literary facts: they are based on Greek and/or Syriac source texts but they often enough put forward arguments and make points which differ from what we would expect on the basis of our carefully collated and thoroughly annotated and researched editions.”Footnote 1
The translators began a tradition of engaging critically with their source texts, adding new thought to them, which the Muslim scholars developed further in original composition. The most fascinating outcome of this approach was the transformation of the Arabic language, turning it into an ideal medium for the advancement of philosophy and science. In fact, the precision of some of the translated terms “even surpassed that of the original Greek texts,” so they became the model for the western languages when these texts were later translated into Latin. In addition to the transformation of the Arabic language, the Arabic approach to translation helped create whole new disciplines such as Islamic philosophy. Using the philological outlook, which emerged only recently in modern Europe, as a paradigm to analyze and assess Arabic translation would reduce the Graeco-Arabic translation movement to the preservation of Greek knowledge until it was rediscovered in Europe, which is not the full story of Arabic translation. Thus, a proper description of the Graeco-Arabic translation movement needs to begin with a redefinition of translation, since traditional definitions are not comprehensive enough to encompass the history of Arabic translation.
Surveying the history of science translation in the Roman, Syriac, Indian, Pahlavi, and Arabic traditions in the premodern world, Scott Montgomery defines translation as “the process of transforming a specific piece of one language (commonly a text of some sort) into another language.”Footnote 2 Two words are significant in this definition: process and transformation. The word “process” implies an ongoing activity, so the target text is tentative, fluid, and in constant movement. The word “transformation” implies a complex process that Homi Bhabha calls “cultural hybridity.”Footnote 3 There are two features of this cultural hybridity. First, the target text is not a copy of the source text; it combines knowledge of the source text with knowledge from the target culture. Second, the source text is different from the target text “without assumed or imposed hierarchy.”Footnote 4 This applies to Arabic translation in the Middle Ages. Arabic translations were a cultural hybridity because the translators added new thought to their target texts, and because, unlike the Roman translators who saw the Greek texts as masterpieces to imitate, they saw their language as equal to the Greek language and capable of expressing scientific ideas. They did not imitate and displace the Greek texts. They acknowledged them, but also corrected and improved them.
In order to account for the history of the practice of Arabic translation, I define translation as combination, that is, a process of remaking meaning that synthesizes multiple realities. The Arabic translators of the Middle Ages did not simply find an equivalent to the source text but combined its meaning with the target language, culture, and sociopolitical context. In addition, Arabic translators combined knowledge from the source text with their own knowledge and experience. Thus, part of translating a text was to add new thought to it. A translation did not simply communicate the original meaning but improved it. To distinguish the source text from the added parts, these new parts were written in different or thicker ink, introduced in separate sections, or marked with phrasal verbs that identified the author. The addition of original composition and thought ensured the utmost critical and creative engagement with the source text and set translation on a par with writing.
However, translation as combination does not fully explain the success of the Graeco-Arabic translation movement. Accompanying this feature is another that I call the “spiral of influence.”Footnote 5 The spiral of influence explains how translation enriched the Arabic language and turned it into the language of science. For example, when a term was introduced through translation, it moved up the spiral. That is, once the term was introduced, more scholars, then more people from the masses, began to use it. Therefore, it became part of Arabic language, culture, and daily life. Such an upward movement was contingent upon an environment in which more scholars and more people from the masses could engage in science. If that was not the case, it would be difficult for the term to enter common usage. It would probably confine itself to the discourse of the elite or fade away altogether. It was also possible that a term could move down the spiral after its introduction because it was not optimal enough and, in this case, a new term was usually introduced to replace it. The spiral of influence also explains the failure of translation in the contemporary Arab world, since its upward movement is too slow, given the high level of illiteracy.
My investigation relies on three sources. First, the statements put out by the Muslim scholars in the Middle Ages about translation are useful, even though they are too sporadic, brief, and general to lay the foundation for a theory. Second, more recently Graeco-Arabists have edited and published many manuscripts, which they have compared with the original Greek sources. This work produced significant results, which served as the main source in my investigation. Third, I was able to collect some manuscripts and their English translations and analyze them myself.
My purpose is straightforward: to (a) describe the history of the practice of Arabic translation, (b) redefine translation studies to encompass the history of Arabic translation practice, and (c) identify the knowledge sets and skills that translators needed to acquire in the Middle Ages and compare them with the knowledge sets and skills required in other periods of time. The results of such research can be expected to advance translation studies in various ways.
To begin with, taking the Arab world and Arabic as its points of departure, part of the significance of the study is that it discusses translation in areas whose contributions to translation studies have not been large. Many scholars have recently proposed that translation be studied in different parts of the world to establish translation theory on more comprehensive and solid grounds and to limit ethnocentrism in translation studies.Footnote 6 Indeed, as Luc van Doorslaer says, “translation studies can only be strengthened if there is more discourse from and about China, other east Asian nations, southeast Asia, India, Turkic cultures, the Arab world, and so forth.”Footnote 7 In his article “Continentalism and the Invention of Tradition in Translation Studies,” Dirk Delabastita raises a very legitimate question: “To what extent are the well-known translation models – say, those discussed in Anthony Pym’s Exploring Translation Theories (2010) – tailored to fit translational practices existing in the West only? To what extent is there an ethnocentrism at work in them which can be contested by considering the practices and theories from different parts of the world?”Footnote 8 To these suggestions, I add that studying translation in different periods of time can also be a good test for our contemporary translation theory and practice. Although the history of translation in different parts of the world has recently been the center of attention for some scholars, there is still much to be done. Examples include Jean Delisle and Judith Woodsworth, who review, in their book Translators through History,Footnote 9 the history of translation in different parts of the world focusing on the agent, translators themselves, rather than the product of the process.Footnote 10 In his book, Translation and Identity in the Americas, Edwin Gentzler describes an emerging American theory of translation that, according to Delabastita, “allows for creativity, freedom and change, and has a living relationship with translation practice. It asserts itself against traditional translation theory, which is essentially European, preoccupied with national languages and national literary canons, and entertaining naïve ideas about universality and the reproductivity of identical meanings.”Footnote 11
Further, translation theory suffers from a disproportion between studies of literary translation, on the one hand, and scientific translation, on the other hand. Even though there has recently been more attention paid to scientific translation, translation theory is still largely dominated by discussions of literary and religious texts.Footnote 12 This study focuses mainly on Arabic translation of science in the Middle Ages and the early nineteenth century. Scientific translation, as described in this study, is substantially different from contemporary translation theory and practice, since translation was not simply a means of communicating meaning but was also a tool of knowledge production.
Besides, Graeco-Arabic translation is a special case that requires new models of translation to account for its unique challenges, whether in the past in the way that translators performed their work or in the present in the designs that researchers use to study these translations. As far as the process of translation is concerned, a major problem that translators faced during the Graeco-Arabic translation movement was the scarcity of manuscripts. More often than not, translators worked from a single manuscript that may have been damaged and they needed to travel long distances from one learning center to another to obtain a certain manuscript. The translators were committed, under these working conditions, to engaging critically with their source texts, correcting them and filling their gaps. Even when translators had several manuscripts at their disposal, they had to do additional manuscript work, collating a single manuscript or selecting one variant and including all of the others in the margin or interlineally. That process of selecting a variant was not random and required a great deal of background knowledge and critical thinking.
These finished products then went through a long journey of hand copying, copy editing, and revisions before they reached us. In these cases, a translation is defined as a manuscript that is known as a translation and encompasses the original work of the translator as well as the work of subsequent revisers and editors. The long process of hand copying, in addition to rigorous revisions of translations, requires extra caution from the researcher when examining translation strategies. In addition, data on the original translator and the list of editors and revisers are always unavailable or, at best, doubtful, which is an obstacle for studying a certain translator or a certain period of time. That is why the Risāla Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq is substantial for the history of Arabic translation.Footnote 13 It informs us about the translations produced by Ḥunayn, as well as the original translators of some texts that Ḥunayn later revised. It also enlightens us on the practice of translation at that time. For example, it makes us aware that the revision of old translations was a common practice and highlights the difficulty of assigning a translation to a certain translator. Although this was an obstacle for medieval Arabic translation research, it does not pose a serious problem for this study, since it examines the common characteristics of Arabic translation, regardless of the identity of the translator or the period of time.
In addition to a lack of secure data and continuous corruption of manuscripts, many source texts are no longer extant today, which hinders the comparison between source and target texts, particularly those translated out of intermediary Syriac. Further, many of the manuscripts that are extant today are still unedited, and much evidence is still buried in them. In spite of that, the available manuscripts are enough to demonstrate a unique translation practice that, unless clouded by our understanding of translation theory today, yields a rich source for understanding the process of translation and its impact on culture.
2 The Graeco-Arabic Translation Movement: Historical Background
Although the phrase “the Graeco-Arabic translation movement” is usually used to refer to the translation activities during the Abbasid Caliphate, its early signs and roots can be traced back to the Umayyad period. During the reign of the Umayyads (661–750 CE),Footnote 14 Muslim rule expanded over vast areas and the Muslim Empire became one of the largest in history. At their peak, the Umayyads ruled the Middle East, North Africa, the Iberian Peninsula, Persia, and Central Asia. Despite that power, the Umayyads’ rule was short lived, spanning a period of only ninety years. The decline began with the military defeat by the Byzantine Empire in 717 CE, and it continued throughout the later Marwanid period (720–50 CE). During that period, dissatisfaction with the Umayyads grew, revolts against them increased, and the Hāshimayya, a movement that denied the legitimacy of Umayyad rule, gained more supporters. Eventually, the weaknesses of the Umayyads encouraged the Abbasids to declare a revolt in 747 CE. Supported by the Persians, Iraqis, and Shiʿites, the Abbasids won a victory against the Umayyads in the Battle of the Great Zab River in 750 CE and put an end to the Umayyad Dynasty.
Nevertheless, the Umayyad Dynasty enjoyed many years of luxury and prosperity, and it was not unlikely that some Umayyad figures such as Khālid ibn Yazīd (668–704 CE) or ʿUmar ibn Abd al-ʿAzīz (682–720 CE) commissioned some scientific translations into Arabic. Khālid ibn Yazīd was the son of the second Umayyad caliph, Yazīd I, and brother of the third caliph, Muʿāwiyya II. He was supposed to succeed Maʿāwiyya II, but the throne was taken over by his second cousin, Marwan ibn al-Ḥakam. As a result, it was said that Khālid turned his attention to science. In his book Al-Fahrist, Ibn al-Nadīm mentions that Khālid ibn Yazīd ibn Muʿāwiyya, who loved science and paid great attention to medicine, commissioned some Greek physicians who used to visit Egypt and who were good at Arabic to translate books from Greek into Arabic.Footnote 15 Even though these reports were contested,Footnote 16 they indicate that scientific translation was not totally extrinsic to the Umayyad culture. According to Franz Rosenthal, “practical usefulness” was the purpose of translation in the Umayyad period.Footnote 17 The Arabs needed information, whether medical, chemical, or even philosophical, and they were happy to get that information from an Arabic translator or directly from a Greek scholar. Although these activities were individual projects, they indicated a rich intellectual life and a good foundation for the Abbasid translation movement.
Another significant event that took place during the Umayyad Dynasty and paved the way for the Abbasid translation movement was the translation of the dīwān (administrative apparatus) into Arabic. The dīwān was not simply an official record of salaries, lands, and taxes; it included far more complex operations. As George Saliba convincingly argues,
Was it not part of the duties of the administrator of the public treasury (bayt al-māl) to see to it that the right proportion of gold is cast in the minted dinars, together with what all that implies by way of managing alloys, composition of metals, and exacting weights and measures? Wouldn’t such functions include some alchemy, or at least overlap with it, or what was then called al-ṣanʿa, that was being sought by Khalid? Wasn’t this ṣanʿa also connected to pharmaceutical sciences, and the knowledge of weights and measures, as well as others?Footnote 18
Although we do not have the manuals translated for administrative purposes, it is reasonable to say that the translation of the dīwān required a high-level effort to translate scientific works and train new staff.
Further, although the number of works translated during the Umayyad period was few, they were significant, since they set the framework for later work. The early translations from Syriac and Pahlavi introduced the Arabic translators to the techniques of translation and laid the foundation for critical and creative engagement with the source texts.Footnote 19 There are then two immediate traditions that we need to examine in order to understand medieval Arabic translation.
To begin with, the Syriac tradition of scientific translation provides a good source for understanding the practice of Arabic translation. During the fifth and sixth centuries, translation activities moved eastward into Persia (Syria and Iraq). This resulted in waves of immigrations of Christian dissidents who suffered ill treatment under the Orthodox Byzantine Church. Under prejudice against pro-Nestorian, and to a lesser degree pro-Monophysite, teachings, teachers and intellectuals of these communities had to immigrate to Persia and rebuild their schools, where they resumed their intellectual activities of studying, commenting on, and translating the Hellenistic knowledge. These new learning centers, an example of which was Jundīshapūr, were a melting pot for two traditions: the Roman and the Perso-Indian traditions.Footnote 20 These Syriac translators brought with them the long tradition of Roman translation, but, in their new context, they were able to substantially develop it, whether with the quantity or content of translation. Therefore, beginning from the early fifth century, the focus of translation was no longer the Bible and patristic texts as a larger number of secular texts began to be included. By the seventh century, a significant amount of Greek science and philosophy was being translated into Syriac.Footnote 21 These translations were totally different from the Roman appropriation of Greek knowledge, as they were literal renditions. As a result, many new Greekisms – loan words as well as syntactic structures – were introduced into Syriac.
This Syriac translation movement was significant for the Arabic translators because it provided “the stimuli for an increased awareness of technique and the honing of translation skills. Indeed, in more than one instance, the work of these earlier translators was used as a focal point for debate on the best methods to render Greek works into Arabic.”Footnote 22 One example is how Sergius of Reshʿayna was said to describe his translation approach: “I have taken great care to remain entirely faithful to what I found in the manuscript, neither adding anything to what the philosopher wrote nor leaving anything out.”Footnote 23 Although Sergius claimed that his method of translation was word for word, modern criticism confirms that his translations were a mixture of literal and free rendering, the very method that is attested to by analyzing Arabic translations, even though Arabic translators also made claims similar to those of Sergius.
The Perso-Indian tradition of scientific translation is another important source for understanding the Arabic approach to translation.Footnote 24 Scott Montgomery gives the example of the “zīj” text as a representation of the practice of Pahlavi translation and concludes the following:
This type of tracing of sources and influences suggests several important conclusions. First, no individual work was viewed as sacred during this period, to be left unmodified. If there were sages of astronomy, prophets and magi from the past whose fame was unalterable, such was far from the case with regard to their actual writings. Pieces of various texts, phrases, words, titles, tables, calculations, and so forth might all be combined and recombined to produce a needed manuscript. Frequently, this involved the updating of older tables and retranslation of accompanying text, but it included many other aspects as well, such as the rearrangement and editing of one work and its insertion into another. Second, the great Ptolemy, whose Syntaxis had surely achieved no small degree of fame by this time, was also seen as simply one more useful source, though an important one. Indeed, Ptolemy could even be found wanting in certain comparative respects and subjected to redaction. Third, the city of Jundishapur, with its cosmopolitan institutions of learning, acted as a type of marketplace for textual goods. These products were constantly being transferred, adapted to current uses, and sent on their way again. There appears to have been, if not exactly a constant search, at least a standing interest in news of any overlooked or newly produced work that might aid in a particular purpose.Footnote 25
To sum up, the Arabic translation movement combined features from the Roman, Syriac, and the Pahlavi translation traditions. Like the Romans, they respected the Greek philosophers, scientists, and astronomers and looked to them as models to imitate, thus restricting their originality to epitomes and commentaries on these works. However, they did not displace the Greek texts. Like the Syriac translators, they acknowledged the Greek authors and texts, and mixed word-for-word and sense-for-sense approaches to make their texts accessible to a wider readership. Finally, like the Pahlavi translators, they did not look at the Greek texts as sacred texts; hence, they engaged critically and creatively with them, correcting, reordering, and adding new thought to them.
These features are present in the practice of early translators such as Māsarjawayh. Māsarjawayh, known as the physician of Baṣra, where he lived, was a Jewish physician and translator. He translated the medical Pandects of the archdeacon or presbyter Aaron of Alexandria (c. 610–41 CE) from Syriac into Arabic. This translation, which consisted of thirty chapters – to which Māsarjawayh added two chapters of his own – might be the first scientific translation into Arabic. This translation was preserved in the library of the court until Caliph ʿUmar ibn ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz put it to the use of Muslim scholars. Māsarjawayh also authored a few treatises in Arabic including “The Virtues of Foods: Their Advantage and Their Disadvantage” and “The Virtues of Medical Plants: Their Advantage and Their Disadvantage.” Neither the translations nor the treatises were preserved, and they were known only by references in other writings.Footnote 26
Another important early translator of the Umayyad period, whose translations assist in understanding the Arabic translation practice in general, is ʿAbd Allah ibn al-Muqaffaʿ (d. 759/60 CE). One of Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ’s major contributions is the use of literature to advise kings and princes in what is known as the literary genre of “mirrors for princes.” He also served as a kātib (chancery secretary) in the Umayyad Caliphate before its fall, which gave him experience in the affairs of the state, which, in turn, helped him to perfect the political writings of his time. He is well-known, however, for his translation of Kalīla wa-Dimna from Pahlavi into Arabic.
3 The Golden Age of the Abbasids
The Abbasids took their name from the Prophet Muhammad’s uncle ʿAbbās ibn Abd al-Muṭṭalib (566–653 CE), from whom they descended. They were able to sustain their caliphate from 750 to 1517 CE, although from 861 CE, they began losing different areas of their empire to autonomous dynasties. The first Abbasid caliph was Abu al-Abbās al-Saffāḥ (722–54 CE). The title “al-Saffāḥ” refers to the blood shedding undertaken under his leadership to eliminate the Umayyads. Al-Saffāḥ was succeeded by Abū Jaʿfar al-Manṣūr (714–75 CE), who was the first Abbasid caliph to sponsor the translation movement.
Under al-Manṣūr’s leadership, many prominent translators flourished. Abū Yaḥya ibn al-Baṭrīq (730–815 CE), a Syrian scholar and translator, was the official translator of al-Manṣūr. He translated some medical works of Galen and Hippocrates from Greek into Arabic. He also translated Ptolemy’s Tetrabiblos (Kitāb al-Samāʾ) and Aristotle’s Meteorology (Kitāb al-Āthār al-ʿUlwiyah). When al-Manṣūr sent emissaries to the Byzantine emperor in Constantinople requesting manuscripts, the emperor sent some manuscripts, including Euclid’s most famous work, Elements, which was translated by ibn al-Baṭrīq.Footnote 27
Another famous Greek-into-Arabic translator in the court of al-Manṣūr was Jūrjis ibn Jibrīl (d. 771 CE), who came to the court to treat the caliph and, having succeeded in his mission, he and his pupils after him were hired as court physicians. According to the report, al-Manṣūr had an upset stomach in the year he built Baghdad, and the more his physicians treated him, the worse he felt. Finally, he consulted with his physicians, who all agreed that Jūrjis ibn Jibrīl, at that time the head physician in Jundayshāpūr, the intellectual center of the Sassanid Empire and home to a teaching hospital, was the most acknowledged physician. Listening to the caliph and examining his condition, Jūrjis successfully treated al-Manṣūr, who was soon his old self again. This action gained Jūrjis the favor of the caliph. Jūrjis continued to serve al-Manṣūr until 768 CE, when Jūrjis fell seriously ill and asked the caliph for permission to go back to Jundayshāpūr. Later, al-Manṣūr asked Jūrjis to come back to Baghdad, but Jūrjis was not well and sent one of his students to the court. Other members of the Bakhtishūʿ family of physicians included Jūrjis’ son, Bakhtishūʿ, who was no less skillful than his father and who served as the personal physician of Hārūn al-Rashīd. The grandson of Jūrjis, Jibrīl ibn Bakhtishūʿ (d. 824/5 CE), was also a physician, and he was the personal physician of Hārūn al-Rashīd and al-Maʾmūn. Among the eminent pupils of Jibrīl ibn Bakhtishūʿ was Yūḥannā ibn Masawayh (777–857 CE), a physician from Jundayshāpūr who translated medical works from Greek into Syriac.
Al-Manṣūr was succeeded by his son Abū ʿAbd Allah Muhammad (745–85 CE), and since it had become the tradition of the Abbasid caliphs to take exalted titles that gave them divine authority, al-Manṣūr – himself having a title that implied divine victory and assistance – gave his son the title “al-Mahdi,” that is, “the one guided by God.” It was a prominent name because, according to Sunni Muslims, it refers to the eschatological figure who would save the world at the end of times. Al-Mahdi, who reigned from 775 CE to his death in 785 CE, was succeeded by al-Hādi, who in turn was succeeded by his son, Hārūn al-Rashīd (766–809 CE). Hārūn al-Rashīd decided to divide the empire, upon his death, between his two sons, al-Amīn and al-Maʾmūn, whose titles meant “the trustworthy” and “the trusted one,” respectively. That division resulted in a civil war that lasted for over two years (811–13 CE) and ended with the victory of al-Maʾmūn, who reigned from 813 CE to his death in 833 CE.
Among the well-known translators in the courts of Hārūn al-Rashīd and al-Maʾmūn were al-Ḥajjāj ibn Yūsuf ibn Maṭar (786–833 CE), Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq (809–73 CE), and his son Isḥāq (830–910 CE). Ibn Maṭar was a mathematician and translator. He produced two translations of Euclid’s Elements. The first, apparently based upon one manuscript, was translated in the early ninth century for Yaḥyā ibn Khālid (d. 805 CE), the vizier of Caliph Hārūn al-Rashīd. In the 820s CE, Ḥajjāj produced his second revised translation for Caliph al-Maʾmūn. Ḥajjāj also translated Ptolemy’s Almagest. Two versions of that translation are extant today. One of these two translations is complete, whereas the second only contains Books I–IV.
Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq and his son Isḥāq were among the most influential translators and scientists in the Graeco-Arabic translation movement. Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq was born in the ancient city of al-Ḥīra (south of present-day Kufa in Iraq). He traveled to Baghdad to seek a career in medicine. In Baghdad, he studied under Yūḥannā ibn Māsawayh, the court physician at the time. It seemed that Ḥunayn was too curious, and he asked many questions. His teacher, already short tempered, was disappointed, particularly in the fact that Ḥunayn was from ʿIbād of Ḥīra, whose members were mostly merchants making a living from exchanging money. The teacher, not unlike most of the physicians of Jundīshāpūr, was unsympathetic toward the people of Ḥīra, and he was not willing to teach his profession to the merchants’ sons. Thus, one day when Ḥunayn asked his teacher to clarify a point, the teacher was so upset that he dismissed Ḥunayn from his classes, reprimanding him and advising him to work as a merchant like his people instead of learning medicine. The humiliation was so immense that Ḥunayn left the class crying and disappeared for almost two years.Footnote 28
Ḥunayn did not give up the study of medicine but turned his attention to the study of Greek for a while. At that time, the Abbasid caliph, al-Maʾmūn, had at his disposal medical Greek manuscripts that the court physician, Jibrīl ibn Bakhtishūʿ, commissioned Ḥunayn to translate. That was the beginning of a glorious career for Ḥunayn. He became the most productive translator in the translation movement and authored important medical works in Arabic. He was also the teacher of important translators in the movement such as Ḥubaysh ibn al-Ḥasan (c. the second half of the ninth century).
After al-Maʾmūn, the translation movement continued to flourish, and Baghdad continued to attract prominent translators and scholars. Examples include Qusṭā ibn Lūqā (830/40–912/22 CE) and Thābit ibn Qurra (826/36–901 CE). Qusṭā ibn Lūqā was born in the city of Baʿalbak (present-day Lebanon) and moved to Baghdad, probably during the reign of al-Mutawakkil, who reigned from 847 to 861 CE. Lūqā, of Greek Christian origin, was a physician, philosopher, mathematician, and translator. He knew Greek, Syriac, and Arabic, and he translated, revised, and wrote treatises on mathematics, medicine, astronomy, and philosophy.Footnote 29 He was among the most prominent figures in the Graeco-Arabic translation movement, whose authority in medicine, according to Ibn al-Nadīm, surpassed that of Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq.Footnote 30
Thābit ibn Qurra was known as al-Ṣābiʾ Thābit ibn Qurra Al-Ḥarrānī, where “al-Ṣābiʾ” refers to his religion as a worshiper of the stars, and Ḥarrān (in present-day Turkey) refers to the city where he was born and grew up. As a member of the Sabians, who were a Hellenized Semitic astral cult and worshipers of stars, Thābit ibn Qurra mastered astronomy and astrology. He moved to Baghdad as a young man, on the suggestion of Muḥammad ibn Mūsa ibn Shākir, who was impressed by Thābit ibn Qurra’s knowledge of Syriac, Greek, and Arabic. In Baghdad, he received training in mathematics and medicine. He returned to Ḥarrān where he was accused of heresy and was forced to escape back to Baghdad. He was appointed the court astronomer for Caliph al-Muʿtaḍid (reigned 892–902 CE). He became one of the most influential mathematicians, physicians, astronomers, and translators in the Abbasid period. His translations include works by the Greek mathematicians Euclid, Archimedes, Apollonius of Perga, and Ptolemy. He revised Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq’s translation of Euclid’s Elements. He was also the author of important treatises on mathematics and astronomy. By the time of Thābit ibn Qurra and his fellow translators, the Arabization of Greek knowledge had reached a peak. Like the circles of Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq and al-Kindī, Thābit contributed a great many neologisms to the Arabic language, which facilitated the comprehension and utilization of science and, eventually, of original Arabic science.Footnote 31
It is common to divide the Abbasid Caliphate into three overlapping periods as far as translation is concerned:Footnote 32
– The first period is 753–809 CE, the time of the two caliphs Abū Jaʿfar al-Manṣūr and Hārūn al-Rashīd. During that period, al-Manṣūr established Baghdad (in 762 CE), and Hārūn al-Rashīd was said to establish the bayt al-ḥikma (house of wisdom) to be a public library after the palace library became too small for the manuscripts collected for the Abbasid court and their translations. With the exception of Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ, the celebrated Persian translator and thinker, the translators from this period are little known. They were mostly from Christian Aramaic clans from southern Iran and Iraq, and their translations were mostly of astronomy and astrology. This group of translators is different from the translators of the second and third periods, who were Hellenized.
– The second period covered two centuries and started during the time of ʿAbd Allah al-Maʾmūn. This second period is the golden age of translation, when translation became a state-sponsored activity. It received abundant support, both financially and politically, from the court and the elite. The two major groups of translators, that of al-Kindī and Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq, operated in that phase. By the end of this period, most of the Hellenistic works had been translated, and the standardization of methodology and terminology was achieved.Footnote 33
– The third period started in 912 CE and continued until the fall of the Abbasid and the beginning of the Mamluk Sultanate, and it was generally a downward movement of translation. During that period, there were a few Aristotelian treatises that were never translated into Arabic, such as the Posterior Analytics and the Poetics, which were taken care of by Abū Bishr Mattā, Yaḥya ibn ʿAdī, ʿIsā ibn Isḥāq ibn Zurʿa, and al-Ḥasan ibn Suwār. The reason why these works were not among the early translations is that these parts were removed by Christian authorities from the curriculum in Alexandria because they were considered harmful to Christianity. This restriction was lifted after the Muslim conquest. It is the generation of Abū Bishr Mattā that was credited with introducing these parts of the Organon to the Arabic culture.Footnote 34
Therefore, there is no need, for the purpose of this study, to describe the political situation of the Abbasids beyond al-Maʾmūn, since it was around that time that the Abbasids enjoyed the peak of their golden age and during which translation reached its peak. It was a period of peace and prosperity during which the arts, poetry, science, translation, and learning in general were generously sponsored by the caliphs.
In contrast with the Umayyads, who annexed vast areas to the emerging Muslim empire, the Abbasids focused primarily on internal affairs. Among the significant characteristics of the Abbasid reign was the inclusion of non-Arabs in the community. They relied on the Persians (particularly the Barmakids) in administration, and they adopted many of their etiquettes. The combined accomplishments of the Umayyads and the Abbasids (i.e. the expansion of the Muslim empire over vast areas and the acceptance of multicultural and multilingual norms) were significant for the translation movement for two main reasons.
First, the success of the translation movement relied on men capable of translating from Syriac, Greek, and Persian. Such men existed as part of the Islamic empire after the annexation of huge areas from other empires surrounding Arabia. In addition, the existence of speakers of other languages in the Muslim empire made translation, particularly for business and administrative purposes, a necessity. Further, soon under the Umayyads’ reign, Arabic became the state official language of administration, commerce, and learning. Accordingly, those who spoke Arabic among the administrators, merchants, men of letters, and scientists “found themselves in an advantaged position, not only politically and socially but intellectually.”Footnote 35 In this sense, the history of Arabic translation had its roots in the Umayyad period. Second, the lifting of the political and religious barriers helped equip the Abbasid court with a great number of scholars who were experts in their fields, as well as multilingual, so they were able to transmit their knowledge and translate key texts in their fields.Footnote 36
The newly founded capital of al-Mansūr, Baghdad, became, together with older cities such as Jundayshāpūr and Ḥarrān, a center of learning. In these learning centers, translations of classical works of medicine, mathematics, astronomy, and natural philosophy flourished. That rise of translation activities was the result of a constellation of circumstances. In his book Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, Dimitri Gutas analyzes the Abbasid translation movement as a social phenomenon that was the result of its context. Above all, without the prosperity and luxury of the court and the interest of the caliphs themselves, there was doubt that translation could gain its momentum. Abbasid caliphs such as Hārūn al-Rashīd and al-Maʾmūn showed great interest in making manuscripts available for Arabic translators, and they were ready to endow bags of gold for finished translations. The translators themselves were content to translate for the caliph’s gold, but they also had clear research interest in their work.
Sometimes, the individual propensities of the caliph determined the kind of material to translate. For example, al-Ghassānī compiled a book for al-Mahdī on falconry because the caliph (al-Mahdī) liked falconry.Footnote 37 Al-Ghassānī not only used Arabic sources but also incorporated foreign sources. That book, which became the archetype of Arabic literature on falconry, was mainly possible because of al-Mahdī, who liked falconry, and because of the translation culture that enabled Ghassānī to include both Arabic and foreign sources, since without that culture, he could have compiled only Arabic sources.
The translation movement was not supported by the court alone; it was supported by the entire elite Abbasid society. The funding was enormous, and it came from both public and private sources. This can be analyzed in light of the Islamic stress on learning (ʿilm) as one of the duties of all Muslims.Footnote 38 This can also be analyzed in light of the needs of the Muslim community. Thus, according to Dimitri Gutas, the reasons for the rise of the Abbasid translation movement were different from those for the rise of translation activity of Aristotelian and other ancient texts from Greek and Arabic into Latin in western Europe in the twelfth century. In Europe, the rise of the new class of the bourgeoisie necessitated a new kind of knowledge that was different from the traditional church learning of the clergy. In the Abbasid society, the longevity of the translation movement can partially be explained by considering “the demand for applied knowledge in the rapidly evolving social climate of Baghdad and [of] the demand for theoretical knowledge by the scientific and philosophical tradition in the process of formation.”Footnote 39
The movement started with an interest in the applied sciences of astrology, astronomy, and mathematics. This initial interest in the applied sciences eventually created a need for theoretical foundation, so the translation movement was expanded to include philosophical sciences. For example, Aristotle’s Topics was needed to teach Muslims debate, so they could defend their religion against Christians and Jews, and Aristotle’s Physics was needed to provide them with factual information to be used in theological debates. Thus, the translated works had the added value of immediate use and applicability, whether it was to medicine, philosophy, or astrology. Similarly, astrological history was translated and adopted to support the Abbasid revolution. Astrological history described cycles of power, such as emergence, dominance, and downfall, as governed by the stars and planets.Footnote 40 The cycles of power and the renewal of knowledge were Zoroastrian beliefs. The Muslim translators and scholars Islamized those ideas so that the decrees of the stars were by the command of God, so any resistance to the Abbasid rise would be futile or against the very will of God.
4 Key Characteristics of Arabic Translation in the Medieval Period
As explained above, the early Arabic translations from Pahlavi and Syriac are significant, since they explain key features of the Arabic translation tradition. From the Pahlavi, Arabic translators took the idea that a translator can add new thought to a translation. Thus, when Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ translated Kalīla wa-Dimna from intermediary Pahlavi, he was inspired by translators before him who added their own original stories to the translation. From the Syriac, the Arabic translators learned to be mindful of faithfulness to source texts while integrating word-for-word and sense-for-sense approaches to translation and Christianizing their pagan sources. Therefore, before describing in depth the key features of the Arabic translation movement, we will examine a prominent Syriac translator before Islam, namely Sergius of Reshʿaynā (d. 536 CE).
Syriac was the first Semitic language into which Greek philosophy was translated. The key figure in the first significant translations from Greek into Syriac was Sergius of Reshʿaynā, a physician, theologian, and philosopher in the fifth and sixth centuries. Sergius studied in the school of Alexandria and became well known for his Syriac translations in the fields of theology, philosophy, and medicine, particularly the corpus of Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite. He also had a grand project in mind, as he expressed his intention to write about all parts of Aristotle’s philosophy. The project, however, was too ambitious, and only the first few books of the Organon were translated.Footnote 41 Sergius’ approach to translation is noteworthy, as he reconciled the “pagan” wisdom of the Greeks with Christianity,Footnote 42 and he did not introduce Greek philosophy in Syriac as dry texts but as a living system of problems.
Part of the significance of Sergius is that he established a tradition that was followed by other Christian translators and commentators on Aristotle, and he later played a significant role in the rise of Arabic philosophy.Footnote 43 The school of Alexandria, where Sergius flourished, rather than any of the intellectual centers that existed at that time, such as Antioch, Edessa, Nisibis, Qenneshrīn, Jundayshāpūr, Marw, and Ḥarrān, was the main place for learning philosophy.Footnote 44 Translators in Alexandria did not simply convey the meaning of the Greek texts but engaged critically with them. That pattern was adopted in Baghdad, which became an intellectual center where translation developed into “a systematic assimilation of Greek scientific and philosophical learning.”Footnote 45
In two separate chapters in Interpreting the Bible and Aristotle in Late Antiquity, Adam McCollum and Emiliano Fiori indicate that Sergius of Reshʿaynā employed two different approaches in his translation of De Mundo and Dionysius.Footnote 46 In De Mundo, he made changes and employed additions to clarify matters for his Syriac readers only when absolutely necessary, deleting at the same time nothing of substance. With Dionysius, Emiliano Fiori calls Sergius’ approach “dialectical fidelity,” since he practiced control over the text to prevent any of Dionysius’ Neoplatonic nuances from creeping into the biblical text. This analysis allows Josef Lössl and John Watt to conclude that “the activity of Sergius thus turns out to be considerably more coherent than might appear at first sight.”Footnote 47 Consistency of approach becomes clearer when we focus on his purpose rather than his approach to translation. His purpose was to offer his Syriac readers an honest translation of the original text that was as consistent as possible with the Bible because the target text could be true only when it was consistent with the Bible.Footnote 48
This kind of critical engagement with source texts reemerged with the Arabic translators, philosophers, and commentators. Sergius, in Alexandria, broke “from the Plato and Proclus of his pagan masters and linked Aristotle in the program with the Bible and Dionysius.”Footnote 49 The process was reverted around four centuries later in Baghdad when al-Fārābī (870–950 CE), the renowned early Islamic philosopher, broke from the Bible and Dionysius and reconciled the Greek philosophy with Islam. Averroes, in the twelfth century, as Abid al-Jabri explains, purified Plato’s The Republic from unproven opinions (aqāwīl ghayr burhāniyya), so he ignored any reference to Greek mythology. He also did not include the first book and part of the second book because it was a debate without proof. Throughout the book, there were parts that Averroes ignored or rearranged so that the final product was presented in a completely new form. Jawāmiʿ Siyāsat Aflaṭūn (the Arabic version of Plato’s The Republic) was not a mere summary or explanation of Plato’s work. It was a text reconstructed, so it was void of any unscientific sayings. While Plato writes about war and its laws, Averroes discusses jihad and its ethics in Islam. Another example of critical engagement is how Averroes broke the gender bias against women, stating that they could be philosophers and judges. The idea itself was Plato’s, but Averroes did not ignore it like al-Fārābī had. Averroes carried out two complementary processes. First, he familiarized the reader with Plato’s ideas and, second, he aimed to contextualize these ideas (tabīʾa, to use al-Jabri’s term) to fit into the Arabic culture.Footnote 50
What the masters learned from Aristotle was to subject any writing, including Aristotle himself, to a relentless critique. They rejected any authority except the authority of reason. Thus, they distinguished between philosophical and theological discourse, which came to be known as Averroism in the latter half of the thirteenth century. This distinction enabled the break with the clerical commentary tradition (i.e. from exposition to critique and the question form of commentary).Footnote 51 The distinction between philosophical and theological discourse can be interesting for translation studies. The translation of theological texts, particularly scriptures, focuses on the linguistic analysis of text, is concerned with philological problem-solving, and is stuck between word-for-word and sense-for-sense approaches. This kind of translation focuses solely on communicating the meaning of the source text. By contrast, the history of translation of science and philosophy attests to translation activities that go beyond the communication of meaning and looks at translation as a creative interaction and critical engagement with the text. In this sense, translation is a means of knowledge production rather than simply a means of communicating meaning. The concept of translation as a unified product that cannot be broken up unless one produces inaccuracies narrows our view of translation, turns it into a mechanical process, prioritizes philology over philosophy, and imprisons the translator’s reason behind language. It turns the translator into a conservative clergyman before a sacred text.
Sergius of Reshʿaynā is an interesting example as an early translator from the East for two main reasons. First, Sergius was not a translator by profession. He was a polymath whose knowledge spanned medicine, theology, and philosophy, and translation was part of his scientific project. This also applies to all of the Arabic translators of the medieval East who were philosophers, scientists, and writers. Second, in his translations, Sergius was not simply communicating meaning, but was critically engaging with the source text. By relating Aristotle to the Bible, for instance, Sergius used translation to carry out the social function of “maintaining” the target culture.Footnote 52 This use of translation to solve social problems, fill scientific gaps, or maintain target cultures would later dominate the Graeco-Arabic translation movement.Footnote 53
5 Translation Competence
The previous sections introduced some of the most influential translators, philosophers, and scientists in the Graeco-Arabic translation movement in the Umayyad and Abbasid periods, such as Māsarjawayh, Ibrahim al-Fazārī, Abū Yaḥya ibn al-Baṭrīq, al-Ḥajjāj ibn Yūsuf ibn Maṭar, Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq, Qusṭā ibn Lūqā, Thābit ibn Qurra, Abū Bishr Mattā, Yaḥya ibn ʿAdī, and ʿIsā ibn Isḥāq ibn Zurʿa. Although this list is by no means complete, it gives us an idea of the nature of translation and the skills of the translators. In the following subsections, I describe what is common among these translators and their approach to translation.
Translation as Research
Historians usually refer to two major circles of translation in Baghdad: the first circle is made up of those translators who were content experts and whose interest in translation was part of their scientific research interest.Footnote 54 They employed translation to fill gaps in knowledge or solve current problems. They also perceived learning a foreign language as an instrument for furthering their scientific knowledge. Therefore, language pedagogy consisted of reading and discussing a specialized foreign text, which must have positively affected the translators’ reading comprehension and mastery over the content. In addition, many of the translators had shared interests and worked in the same intellectual centers, which helped them reach a critical mass of translators and scientists and of texts translated in a certain field.
The second circle is that of Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq and, slightly earlier than that, the circle of al-Kindī.Footnote 55 The circle of al-Kindī shaped the Arabic reception of Greek philosophy.Footnote 56 Among the first texts translated in this circle was an adaptation of selections from Plotinus’ Enneads and Proclus’ Elements of Theology. The circle also produced the first Arabic translations of Aristotle’s Metaphysics and De Caelo.Footnote 57 The group was credited for the rearrangement of Proclus’ Elements of Theology and Aristotle’s Exposition of the Pure Good, with the latter being later translated, in Toledo in the twelfth century, from Arabic into Latin.Footnote 58 As Peter Adamson states, “The choice of which texts to translate was guided in part by the philosophical concerns of al-Kindī and his collaborators.”Footnote 59 This conforms to the common practice of translation at that time when translation was part of the research interest of the translator.Footnote 60 Within the circle of al-Kindī, changes in the source text during the translation process were carried out for various purposes. For example, abridgements were produced for lengthy works, and explanations were produced for complicated works. Sometimes, the translator’s commentaries provided more information and rendered the original work more comprehensible than it was.Footnote 61 More significantly, the translators sometimes rearranged and added their own elaborations to the source text. Examples include Aristotle’s De Anima, Theology of Aristotle, and the Book on the Pure Good (known in Latin as the Liber de Causis).Footnote 62 This approach is significant because it indicates how al-Kindī and his circle viewed translation. Translation, within this approach, was not simply a tool for communicating the source text’s meaning, but it was also a cultural tool for knowledge production. It had to respond to the conventions of the target language as much as to the contemporary problems and concerns of the translators and their cultural contexts. This resulted in rearranging and supplementing the source text and creating new philosophical terminology in Arabic, which was eventually furthered in original compositions.Footnote 63 This tradition of translating, supplementing, and rearranging was later adopted by the Arabic-into-Latin translators of Toledo.Footnote 64
The school of Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq and his son Isḥāq – known for producing many high-quality translations of Aristotle and Galen – was the more important center of translation. Of particular importance to Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq himself were the medical texts of Galen, which constituted the basis for Ḥunayn’s own treatises on medicine, particularly his major contribution to medieval medicine, the Isagoge. As Edward Grant describes it,
But from our perspective we can see that the Arabic origins of this restitution of Aristotle had a decisive effect on the nature of the medieval curriculum in philosophy. Greek manuscripts provided the raw texts of Aristotle’s works. But the Arabic tradition supplied not the “pure” Aristotle of the fourth century BCE, but rather … the late Neoplatonic curriculum, in which Aristotle’s metaphysics was crowned with a rational theology issuing from the Platonic tradition. Hence the De Causis could naturally be incorporated into a corpus of Aristotle’s works. These Neoplatonic elements can be seen even more clearly in other texts of Arabic philosophy which were never integrated into the Aristotelian corpus.Footnote 65
The Isagoge, written by Ḥunayn as an introduction to Galenic medicine, was available in the West quite early, toward the end of the eleventh century; it was the only systematic exposition of medical theory known in this period before the translation of the bulk of the Graeco-Arabic medical corpus. Its conciseness kept it in use as a standard text for over two hundred years, long after European physicians had attained a vastly more detailed knowledge of Galenic theory.Footnote 66 The Arabic translation of Galen’s commentary on the Epidemics is one of the major contributions of Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq. Its influence on the development of Arabic medicine is well established. Within four hundred years of the production of the translation, no fewer than fifteen medical Arabic authors used the Epidemics.Footnote 67 For example, both Ḥunayn’s translation and summaries are important sources for Abū Bakr Muhammad ibn Zakariyya al-Rāzī (d. 925 CE), who is well known for his medical encyclopedic book, al-Ḥāwī. The well-known physician Ibn al-Nafīs (d. 1288 CE), who authored many commentaries on Hippocratic and other medical writings, relied on Ḥunayn’s translation of Galen’s commentaries on Hippocrates. Other physicians, such as Isḥāq ibn ʿAlī al-Ruhāwī (c. 870 CE), Yaʿqūb al-Kasharī (c. 920 CE), Abū al-Ḥasan ʿAlī ibn Riḍwān (d. 1068 CE), and Abū ʿImran Mūsā ibn ʿUbayd Allah ibn Maymūn (Maimonides) (d. 1204 CE) make use of Ḥunayn’s works.Footnote 68
Ḥunayn’s approach to translation was sometimes dependent on the availability of manuscripts. As Ḥunayn states in his Risāla, he traveled to several intellectual centers in search of manuscripts because a single manuscript was not usually enough for a good translation, particularly if it was damaged. For example, when he was twenty years old, he translated Galen’s De Sectis from a single, and unfortunately damaged, manuscript. However, at the age of forty, he was able to collate a few manuscripts for the same text and produce a better translation.Footnote 69 This means that the approach to translation was sometimes affected by the nature of the manuscripts available. By and large, the translations of the school of Ḥunayn and his son Isḥāq were, as Richard Walzer confirms, “extremely good.” They were so good that they could help “ascertain the exact meaning of Greek words in the ninth century.”Footnote 70
Nevertheless, Ḥunayn’s translation of Galen’s commentary on Hippocrates is unique for a number of reasons. First, the Risāla of Ḥunayn provides us with an adequate amount of information on this text. Ḥunayn tells us that Books 1 and 6 are translated from Greek into Syriac by Ayyūb al-Ruhāwī. Ḥunayn then rendered these Syriac translations into Arabic. As for Book 2, Ḥunayn has a number of manuscripts, out of which he collates one manuscript, translating it into Syriac and then into Arabic. Second, Ḥunayn’s Arabic translation of this work proves priceless in the reconstruction of the Greek text, as I will soon explain. More importantly, since the data on the translator of this text are relatively secure, they can provide a good basis for the stylistic features of the translator.Footnote 71
An analysis of Ḥunayn’s medical translations indicates that Ḥunayn prioritizes ideas and concepts over linguistic form and clarity over philological accuracy. Although he does not try to achieve one at the expense of the other, he uses strategies that ensure clarity and completeness of ideas more than anything else. Such an attitude is apparent not only from his translation techniques but also from his notes, as well as his Risāla. For example, at least twice in his Risāla, he reports that his sponsors are intelligent, experienced, and diligent in studying medicine, which makes him extra careful in conveying the precise meaning of the source text.Footnote 72 In addition, when he translates for his own son, he makes sure to write in clear and easy-to-understand language.Footnote 73
An example of how the translators fully engaged scientifically with their translations is what Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq mentions in his introduction to Risāla, that is, that sometimes a translator themselves would commission a retranslation or revision, which means that the translators were fully aware of the significance of each text.Footnote 74 Retranslations or revisions of old translations, which were the common practice during the Abbasid translation movement, were also practical solutions, given the significance of each text and the paucity of manuscripts in general. In many cases, they represent a continuous process of scientific engagement with the source text and previous translations.
A good example is found in the life of the Arabic translation of the book of Dioscorides. At the beginning of the book, Abū Dāwūd Sulaymān ibn Ḥassān (944–94 CE), known as Ibn Juljul, a well-known physician of his time and the translator of the book, stated that the first person who translated the book from Greek into Arabic was Iṣṭifan ibn Basīl during the time of the Abbasid Caliph Jaʿfar al-Mutawakkil (822–61 CE). The book was examined by Ḥunayn, who corrected and certified the translation, which was not complete, since Iṣṭifan ibn Basīl translated only those Greek names of drugs that he knew. Other drug names that he did not know, and for which he could not find Arabic equivalents, were left in Greek. He hoped that someone after him would find equivalents in Arabic based on a better knowledge of the drugs.
Two types of engagement are clear here. The first is procedural engagement, as Iṣṭifan ibn Basīl was aware of translation procedures, such as etymological derivation, that can solve the problem of naming. The second is scientific and critical engagement, since he knew that translation was not merely concerned with finding an equivalent, but also with helping the physicians who would read the translation to administer the correct drug. In other words, Iṣṭifan ibn Basīl was concerned not only with making knowledge accessible but also with applying his knowledge. That is, rather than translating science by writing it in another language, he translated science by doing it.
Later, Romanos, the emperor of Constantinople, sent splendid gifts to al-Nāṣir ʿAbd al-Raḥmān ibn Muḥammad, the ruler of Al-Andalus, and those gifts included a copy of the book of Dioscorides. In his letter to al-Nāṣir, Romanos referred to two major competences of whoever would translate that book. “You will not profit from the book of Dioscorides,” wrote Romanos, “unless you have someone with knowledge of the Greek language, who will recognize the characteristics of those drugs.”Footnote 75 It was clear that knowledge of Ancient Greek (Yūnānī), the language of the book, was not enough, and the ability to engage with the book scientifically and critically was equally important.
Romanos sent Niqūlā the monk to explain the book and teach ancient Greek. At that time, there were several physicians who were interested in examining and translating that book. Among those physicians was Ḥasdāy ibn Shaprūṭ al-Isrāʾīlī, who had a good relationship with al-Nāṣir, the ruler of al-Andalus. The monk Niqūlā won the favor of Ibn Shaprūṭ, and they worked together on the Dioscorides project. Ibn Juljul was able to meet both Niqūlā and Shaprūṭ at the time of al-Mustanṣir and learn from them. Soon, however, Niqūlā died, but by the time of his death at the beginning of the reign of al-Mustanṣir al-Ḥakam only a few drugs were not translated, namely the ones that he could not identify. As Ibn Juljul stated,
I had longed to know the explanation of the Materia Medica (Hayūlā al-ṭibb), which is the basis for compound drugs, and I had sought it eagerly until God, in His Grace, vouchsafed me this gift, and with the power that He granted to me, I was able to [accomplish] my resolution of reviving what was poorly taught and from which the bodies of the people could not benefit.Footnote 76
This quotation is significant because it shows the nature of translation as a problem-solving activity that is both form- and content-based. The problem was not simply to coin an equivalent to the Greek term, but to use translation as a means of knowledge production that had an impact on people’s lives. Thus, translation was soon followed by original composition. Among the books that Ibn Juljul composed were Kitāb Tafsīr Asmāʾ al-Adwiya al-Mufrada min Kitāb Diyusqūrīdis (an explanation of the names of the simple drugs in the book of Dioscorides) and Maqāla fī Dhikr al-Adwiyya allatī Lam Yadhkurhā Diyusqūrīdis fī Kitābih mimmā Yustaʿmal fī Ṣināʿat al-Ṭibb wa-Yuntafaʿ bi-hi wa-Mā Lā Yustaʿmal Likaylā Yughfal Dhikruh (treaties on the drugs not mentioned by Dioscorides in his book, that is, the profitable drugs used both in medicine and not in medicine, so as not to overlook their mention). These works are a combination of translation and original composition.
Translation as a Developmental Process
Sometimes, a work by a translator could be of higher quality than their earlier work because it had been produced or revised at a later stage of their life when they had gained more knowledge and experience as a scholar and translator. Modern translation theory explains this improvement as an aspect of the developmental process of translation. For example, the unit of translation – a stretch of source text that a translator can process and transfer to the target language in one attempt – is enlarged when a translator attains higher levels of language proficiency or acquires content schemata, namely a specialist background knowledge in the topic of translation.Footnote 77 This explains why the approach of a novice translator is sometimes word for word. Since the unit of translation is a developmental aspect of the translation process, it mainly develops as a result of practice and experience. However, it is also affected by other factors, such as the availability of background knowledge, text type, and text complexity.
For example, commenting on the work of Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq, Franz Rosenthal remarks that mathematical sciences were an exception because Ḥunayn did not master them, contrary to his optimal translations in other fields with which he was familiar, such as medicine, natural science, and metaphysics.Footnote 78 This means that the approach of translation was intertwined with the translator’s knowledge of the content. There is more evidence on that. According to Muhammad Abdelraouf Awni, when official translation started at the time of al-Manṣūr (753–74 CE), many translators lacked the sufficient background knowledge to grasp metaphysical and philosophical thoughts, so they deleted whatever was difficult to comprehend and filled the gap with rationalist additions, so the reader would not notice the loss. They also used transliteration, since Arabic, at that time, lacked technical terminology.Footnote 79
Similarly, in a note on one of his translations, Ḥunayn stressed the importance of familiarity with the author’s style and ideas. He was translating a Syriac translation of Galen into Arabic. Since he was familiar with the ideas and language of Galen, he could produce a good translation that even contributed to the quality of the original manuscript without experiencing problems with the translation. However, in a portion of the manuscript in which Galen quotes Aristophanes, Ḥunayn encountered a problem, since he was not familiar with Aristophanes’ language and ideas. To aggravate the problem, the quotation contained a large number of mistakes, leaving Ḥunayn with only one option, which was to omit the quotation – it did not add much meaning to the manuscript anyway, according to Ḥunayn’s evaluation.Footnote 80 Ḥunayn says,
The Greek manuscript, from which I translated this work into Syriac, contains such a large number of mistakes and errors that it would have been impossible for me to understand the meaning of the text had I not been so familiar with and accustomed to Galen’s Greek speech and acquainted with most of his ideas from his other works. But I am not familiar with the language of Aristophanes, nor am I accustomed to it. Hence, it was not easy for me to understand the quotation, and I have, therefore, omitted it. I had an additional reason for omitting it. After I had read it, I found no more in it than what Galen had already said elsewhere. Hence, I thought that I should not occupy myself with it any further, but rather proceed to more useful matters.Footnote 81
Of course, omission is the worst option, but it could be an acceptable solution if we take into consideration how Ḥunayn reached his decision. Reading that quotation carefully, Ḥunayn decided that what was mentioned in the quotation was explained by Galen somewhere else, so it was redundant. As a result, Ḥunayn did not want to spend more time on that quotation and wanted to proceed to more important matters.
Translation as a developmental process, in which translators learn through translation, explains another significant feature of Arabic translation in the medieval period, that is, the continuous process of revision and retranslation.Footnote 82 For example, as we mentioned earlier, Galen’s book on the sects was translated and corrected at least three times by Ḥunayn Ibn Isḥāq. He first translated it into Syriac when he was in his early twenties. At that time, he had only one damaged Greek manuscript. When he was in his forties, he was able to collect more manuscripts, so he started correcting his early Syriac translation. A few years later, he translated the Syriac manuscript into Arabic for Abū Jaʿfar Muḥammad ibn Mūsa.Footnote 83
Galen’s Book on the Methods of Healing is another example. That book was translated into Syriac by Sergius. The first six books of that manuscript were badly translated, since Sergius, at that time, was still young. Later, he translated the remaining eight books, and the translation was far better than that of the earlier six books. Ḥunayn subsequently went on to collect a few manuscripts for the final eight books and he produced a fresh translation. For the first six books, he also came across one more manuscript and he also retranslated them, but they were still not as optimal as the final eight books. These translations were into Syriac, from which Ḥubaysh ibn al-Ḥasan produced a translation into Arabic, which he asked Ḥunayn to go through and correct.
Translation as Practical Decision-Making
Choosing a translation approach in the medieval Arabic translation movement was a complicated process of decision-making that was affected by a plethora of factors, such as language proficiency, knowledge of the content, and the purpose of translation. For example, scholars generally agree that two methods of translation, first described by al-Ṣafadī (1296–1363 CE), were used in the Graeco-Arabic translation movement.Footnote 84 The first – used by Yūḥannā ibn al-Baṭrīq, Ibn al-Nāʿima al-Ḥimṣī, and others – is a word-for-word translation in which each Greek word has a corresponding Arabic word as an equivalent.Footnote 85 The second method – followed as commonly stated by Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq, al-Jawharī, and others – is a sense-for-sense translation in which a whole unit of meaning, be it a phrase or a whole clause, is rendered in the target language.Footnote 86
The distinction between these two approaches within the Graeco-Arabic translation movement is a false dichotomy. To begin with, Hellenist-Arabists such as Fritz Zimmermann, Peter Adamson, and Dimitri Gutas have already analyzed various Arabic translations and confirmed that the translations hardly fit into one or the other of al-Ṣafadī’s descriptions.Footnote 87 Peter Pormann compares translations by Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq (as an example of al-Ṣafadī’s sense-for-sense approach) and Ibn al-Biṭrīq (as an example of the word-for-word approach according to al-Ṣafadī) and concludes that “al-Ṣafadī’s typology of translation owes more to an elegant idea than a concrete reality.”Footnote 88 Similarly, John Nicholas Mattock compares two versions of Aristotle’s Metaphysics – an earlier one ascribed to Usṭāth and another ascribed to Isḥāq ibn Ḥunayn – and finds that the translators behaved similarly as both “are far more at ease when the original is comparatively simple, and they are far more constricted by the individual words and phrases when it is more complex.”Footnote 89
Generally speaking, many changes were carried out to make the work easier to understand. Thus, changes such as omissions and reorganizations were not expected to result in gaps in the translated work. For example, Avicenna’s commentary of the Qiyās mostly changed the organization of its source, Aristotle’s Prior Analytics, but this did not divert Avicenna’s attention from covering most of the material. Similarly, Avicenna did not actually omit Book IV of Metaphysics. He reorganized and presented the material somewhere else.Footnote 90
Translation as Access to Its Source
One significant feature of the Graeco-Arabic translation movement is the more reliable access it provided to the long-perished Greek manuscripts, and the only access to them was through translation. That was possible because many of these translations were of earlier Greek manuscripts that were lost or suffered alterations in later centuries. For example, when Ernst Wenkebach attempted to edit the Greek text of Galen’s commentary on Hippocrates’ Epidemics, he reported that the Greek manuscripts, none of which predated the fourteenth century, suffered from numerous defects, including the loss of entire books. In addition, successive textual improvements and additions made the task of tracing the Greek original almost impossible. As a result, Wenkebach depended on Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq’s Arabic translation to accomplish his goal. Ḥunayn’s translation, as Wenkebach confirms, is not only older than any of the extant Greek manuscripts but also more complete.Footnote 91 Similarly, Lourus Filius, the editor of an edition of the Arabic version of Aristotle’s Historia Animalium, states that a valuable aspect of the Arabic translation is that it was a translation of a Greek manuscript that is older than any of the Greek manuscripts extant today; hence, it constitutes a valuable source for the establishment of the original Greek text.Footnote 92
In addition, the Arabic translators paid great respect to their source texts. This is clear from their editing and translation strategies. To begin with, the translators did not ignore the multiple manuscripts available to them. In his Risāla, Ḥunayn Ibn Isḥāq gives us a clear idea of the value of each manuscript available to him. For example, he translated Galen’s De Sectis when he was in his twenties from a damaged Greek manuscript. When he was in his forties, he had already collected a few manuscripts of the same text. He compared these versions and collated one correct manuscript. He then compared the Greek revised manuscript with a Syriac translation that was available to him, and he corrected it. Ḥunayn told us that this process of comparison and collation was his habit in all of the manuscripts that he translated.Footnote 93
Unlike Ḥunayn, al-Ḥasan ibn Suwār ibn al-Khammār (943 to after 1017 CE), who belonged to the tenth-century philosophical school, whose members knew Arabic and Syriac, but not Greek, followed a more careful procedure. In his treatment of the Sophistici Elenchi, ibn al-Khammār says, “Since we like to inform ourselves about the share of each of the previous translators, we have written out all the three versions which fell into our hands so that they can all be studied and help mutually towards the understanding of the meaning.”Footnote 94 The three versions that Ibn al-Khammār was referring to were three translations by three different translators: Yaḥyā ibn ʿAdī, ʿĪsā ibn Zurʿa, and Ibn Nāʿima al-Ḥimṣī. As Ibn al-Khammār says, he studied these three manuscripts, but he did not provide the reader with a definite text. Instead, he offered, in the margin or interlineally, all textual variants available to him.
Further, a rigorous and sustainable process of revision contributed to the quality of translations and made them closer to the source text. As we understand from Risāla, the revision of older translations was a common practice in the Graeco-Arabic translation movement. Some translations were so deviant or unreadable that new translations had to replace the old ones, such as Galen’s treatises on the dissection of living and dead animals that was translated by Ayyūb al-Ruhāwī (760–840 CE). As Ḥunayn says in his Risāla, these translations were too difficult to correct, so he decided to translate them again. Some other translations were able to be revised, such as Galen’s treatise on the motions of the blood in the heart and lungs, which was translated by Iṣṭifan ibn Basīl and revised by Ḥunayn.Footnote 95 That process of revision was continued by later translators, such as Ibn al-Khammār. There is also evidence that these revisions were strict. As Richard Walzer indicates, Ibn al-Kammār added notes whenever a word was added, deleted, or changed, and whenever there were textual variants.Footnote 96
Translation as Problem-Solving
The Arabic translators used various techniques to solve linguistic translation problems at the word, phrase, and sentence levels. Such problems resulted from various factors, such as the purpose of translation, the nature of the process of translation itself, the translator’s preferences, or the linguistic and cultural differences between the Greek and Syriac languages, on the one hand, and Arabic, on the other. These strategies can also be analyzed as yielding reader-oriented translations by carrying out a few functions, such as clarifying the text for the reader and smoothing transitions.
An important point to stress is that, although the following examples are taken from a limited number of texts and translators, they give us an idea of the techniques of the Arabic medieval translation at large.Footnote 97 The same remark is noted by Glen Cooper in his chapter titled “Ḥunayn Ibn Isḥāq and the Creation of an Arabic Galen.”Footnote 98 Cooper analyzed Ḥunayn’s translations of Galen’s On Crises and On Critical Days, classifying Ḥunayn’s translation techniques into four main categories: (a) expansions such as translating one Greek term into two Arabic words; (b) adding context or explanations, such as filling an information gap based on his knowledge of Galen’s other works; (c) defining a term when it is not familiar to the readers or transliterating a term when it is familiar and does not need explanation; and (d) deliberate (mis)translations to accommodate the religious beliefs of the readers, such as translating the names of the Greek gods to Allah. According to Cooper, these strategies seem to be typical of Ḥunayn’s translations, and they turn them into “a creative reading, an expansion on the Greek texts, with the primary aim of utility for research and medical practice, with the readers’ needs at the forefront.”Footnote 99
Terminology
To solve the lexical problem of equivalence in the Arabic language, Iṣṭifan ibn Basīl, the first translator of the book of Dioscorides, employed two strategies. For the drugs that he knew, the problem was to derive equivalent Arabic names, which he did successfully. For the drugs that he did not know, the problem was doubled. It was not simply a problem of naming, since Iṣṭifan ibn Basīl had to make sure that the physician who read the book would administer the correct drug. Hence, Iṣṭifan ibn Basīl did not translate those Greek names and left them for later translators who might know the drugs. In this case, the translator’s strategies were contingent on not only his language proficiency but also his expertise as a physician.
Another strategy to solve lexical problems is to define a term instead of translating it, which was frequently used by Ḥunayn ibn Ishāq in his medical translations. For example, instead of translating “epidemic diseases” into two words, Ḥunayn substituted it with a definition: “the same disease that affects a large group at the same time and in the same area contrary to what the inhabitants of that area are accustomed to.” Similarly, he replaced “mesentery” with “the regions between the bowels and the membrane that covers them.” Sometimes, instead of translating, Ḥunayn provided an explanation or a gloss. For example, he translated “the future diseases” into “the diseases that will occur are usual general diseases or similar ones that are, unlike this one, benign and harmless.”Footnote 100
Compounds and Connecting Articles
More linguistic-oriented problems include the Greek compounds and connecting articles. In the following text, Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq modified his target text because the Arabic language lacked an equivalent to the Greek system of compounds:
ﻣﻦ ﺧﺎﺻﺔ ﺍﻟﺒﺪﻥ ﺍﻟﺼﺤﻴﺢ ﺃﻻ ﻳﻜﻮﻥ ﺑﻪ ﻭﺟﻊ، ﻭﺳﻮﺍﺀ ﻗﻠﺖ ﻓﻲ ﻫﺬﺍ ﺍﻟﻤﻮﺿﻊ ”ﻭﺟﻊ” ﺃﻭ
”ﺃﻟﻢ” ﺃﻭ “ﺃﺫﻯ“.
One characteristic of a healthy body is that it is free of pain, regardless of whether I say “pain,” “ache,” or “suffering” in this place.
The Greek text includes compounds with negative particles to indicate the opposite or absence of a characteristic. Since Arabic lacks the same mechanism, the translator negated the whole sentence, “allā yakūn bi-hi wajaʿ” (“free of pain, suffers no pain”). Then being unable to use compounds with negative particles with the other two nouns, the translator explained that the negation applies to the other words – “no ache” and “no suffering.”Footnote 101
In his chapter “Galen, Epidemics, Book One: Text, Transmission, Translation,” Uwe Vagelpohl analyzes the Greek and Arabic systems of connecting particles as an example of how differences between the two linguistic systems, as well as the translator’s preferences, may affect translation.Footnote 102
The Greek connecting particles are different from their Arabic equivalents, as the Greek particles are more complicated. To analyze and translate which meaning and function is conveyed by the Greek particle, the Arabic translator may choose between a variety of Arabic expressions with similar meaning and function, so, as Vagelpohl indicates, the selection usually depends on the translator’s preference.
Double Translation
Double translation, hendiadys, or synonymic doublets (translating one source lexical item using two words in the target language) are used to clarify the meaning of the source text and to accommodate various readers. This strategy is perhaps the most recurrent strategy in translations from Greek and Syriac into Arabic. It is used by both the more competent and the less competent translators.
According to Vagelpohl, these hendiadyses are usually used as a stylistic device, as they are used to translate unproblematic terms.Footnote 103 This is very true when we consider a hendiadys such as “remember and keep in mind.” This is also supported by the fact that hendiadyses are the most frequent stylistic feature not only in Ḥunayn’s translations but also in others’ translations, such as of Abū Bishr Mattā. However, hendiadyses carry out a few other functions. For example, the hendiadys “dry and devoid of rain” was used for emphasis, as it commonly is in Arabic. Immediately before that hendiadys, the translator paraphrased and amplified a Greek statement by repeating elements from the previous sentence and the lemma, stating that Hippocrates “expressed himself differently than usual because when we say that one of the seasons was ‘dry and devoid of rain,’ our observation would normally be understood to mean that it was extremely dry so that there was no rain at all during it.” To emphasize the “extremely dry weather,” the translator used the two adjectival phrases “dry and devoid of rain.” Similarly, the following hendiadyses were more likely used for emphasis: “of every country and every community,” “each country and each community,” “fortify them, strengthen them,” and “intensifies and increases it,” among others. Other hendiadyses, such as “minor, specific,” “observes and investigates,” “deduce and know well,” “reliable and regular,” and “is strong and predominates” may reflect the translator’s doubts that one word may not be precise enough.
Greek Pronominal References and Use of Personal Forms
Due to syntactic differences between Greek and Arabic, replacing Greek pronominal references with noun referents is recurrent in Arabic translations. For example, in his medical translations, Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq sometimes rendered “he describes” into “Hippocrates describes” to clarify the referent. This was done whether the subject was implicit, since Galen did not need to spell out the subject every time he spoke of Hippocrates, or when a pronominal reference was used instead of the proper noun.Footnote 104
In her article “Subjectivity in Translation,” Elaine van Dalen compares nearly all personal forms in Galen’s commentary on the Hippocratic Aphorisms and its Arabic translation and concludes that Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq’s translation is significantly more personal than Galen’s commentary.Footnote 105 According to her analysis, Ḥunayn’s personal forms were employed to achieve five semantic functions: (a) the personal expression of stance, (b) frame-marking, (c) endophoric reference, (d) the expression of personal opinion, and (e) the impersonal expression of intersubjectivity. The final three functions are significant to our purpose. Endophoric forms such as “I have shown” and “we will discuss later” have a cohesive function, and they contribute to the smoothness of the text. Similarly, some additions, such as “after this … he said,” “in spite of this,” “namely that,” and “in view of this it is therefore appropriate that” are intended to smooth transition and enhance the text clarity.Footnote 106
Another important function of the use of personal forms is the expression of personal opinion. When personal forms are used for that purpose, they not only mark the passage as new thought added by the translators but also make the text reader-friendly. In addition, Ḥunayn used personal forms to express intersubjectivity. For example, in his translation of the Epidemics, it happened occasionally that Ḥunayn changed the first-person plural to the first-person singular. The plural pronoun might be confusing to Arabic readers, especially when it might refer to both Hippocrates and Galen, but the use of the first-person singular turned the text personal and reader-oriented.Footnote 107 Similarly, in his translation of Galen’s commentary on the Hippocratic Aphorisms, Ḥunayn substituted “you” for “us,” thus marking the text as shared information between the author and reader.Footnote 108 All of these strategies imply an active process of translation in which the translator tries to understand the text and make it clear to the reader.
Domestication, Christianization, and Islamization
Ḥunayn was prone to domesticate foreign references. For example, in his translation of the Epidemics, he changed “barley porridge,” a Greek dish unknown to his Arab readers, to “barley cake.”Footnote 109
Likewise, in several examples, when the translator was faced with the name of a place or a person that his Arab readers may not have been familiar with, he added phrases that would assist in recognizing the reference. Examples include “the place called Hellespontos” and “the place called Cranon,” where “the place called” was added to clarify that it was the name of a geographical area. Similarly, when Galen explained that the term “epidemics” was written in some copies with four syllables and in others with five syllables, Ḥunayn transferred the Greek metalanguage into Arabic metalanguage, explaining that ibīdīmya was sometimes written with seven letters (ﺇﺑﻴﺬﻳﻤﻲ) and sometimes with eight (ﺇﺑﻴﺬﻳﻤﻴﻦ).
Another characteristic of the Arabic translation is how the translators alleviated the pagan character of the foreign texts. For example, in his translation of the Epidemics, Ḥunayn frequently adapted the polytheistic references to monotheistic beliefs.Footnote 110 In his chapter “Galen the Pagan and Ḥunayn the Christian,” Gotthard Strohmaier analyzes a good number of examples in which Ḥunayn adapted pagan references to the Christian and Muslim worldview.Footnote 111 The strategy is not specific to Ḥunayn, as Gotthard Strohmaier observes that similar strategies were used by eastern Christians in their Syriac translations from Greek, as well as in Muslim translations from Pahlavi. A number of scenarios, which are not mutually exclusive, can explain such a strategy. The Christian translators might not have wanted to raise Muslim suspicions that they would introduce pagan beliefs under the cover of Greek science, they may not have wanted to upset their Christian readers, or they may have wanted to comply with the literary tastes of their sponsors.Footnote 112 The first reason is significant, since we have seen how Abū Bishr Mattā was severely criticized for supporting the Greek logic against Arabic grammar; it truly depicts the sensitivity of the Muslim community to paganism and Hellenization. However, the three reasons given by Strohmaier refer strongly to a reader-oriented approach to translation whether the purpose was to satisfy their Christian or Muslim readers or to satisfy their sponsors.
These changes are also significant because they imply a process of critical engagement with the source text. I borrow the following example from Gotthard Strohmaier.Footnote 113 In his translation of a passage from a commentary on the Hippocratic Oath, Ḥunayn uses a metaphorical interpretation to translate and explain the myth that Zeus killed Asclepius with a lightning bolt because the latter raised a man from the dead, thus challenging the immortality of the gods. Ḥunayn changed the pagan references in his translation:
ﻭﺫﻟﻚ ﺃﻥ ﺍﻷﻗﺎﻭﻳﻞ ﺍﻟﺘﻲ ﻧﺠﺪﻫﺎ ﻣﻜﺘﻮﺑﺔ ﻓﻲ ﺗﺄﻟﻬﻪ ﺇﻧﻤﺎ ﺗﻠﻴﻖ ﺑﺎﻟﺨﺮﺍﻓﺎﺕ ﻻ ﺑﺎﻟﺤﻖ. ﻭﻣﻦ ﺍﻟﻤﺸﻬﻮﺭ ﻣﻦ ﺃﻣﺮﻩ ﺃﻧﻪ ﺭﻓﻊ ﺇﻟﻰ ﺍﻟﻤﻼﺋﻜﺔ ﻓﻲ ﻋﻤﻮﺩ ﻣﻦ ﺍﻟﻨﺎﺭ، ﻛﻤﺎ ﻳﻘﺎﻝ ﻓﻲ ﺯﻳﻮﻧﻮﺳﺲ ﻭﺇﺭﻗﻠﺲ ﻭﺳﺎﺋﺮ ﻣﻦ ﺃﺷﺒﻬﻬﻤﺎ ﻣﻤﻦ ﻋﻨﻲ ﺑﻨﻔﻊ ﺍﻟﻨﺎﺱ ﻭﺍﺟﺘﻬﺪ ﻓﻲ ﺫﻟﻚ. ﻭﺑﺎﻟﺠﻤﻠﺔ ﻳﻘﺎﻝ ﺇﻥ ﺍﻟﻠﻪ ﺗﺒﺎﺭﻙ ﻭﺗﻌﺎﻟﻰ ﻓﻌﻞ ﺑﺄﺳﻘﻠﻴﺒﻴﻮﺱ ﻭﺳﺎﺋﺮ ﻣﻦ ﺍﺷﺒﻬﻪ ﻫﺬﺍ ﺍﻟﻔﻌﻞ، ﻛﻴﻤﺎ ﻳﻔﻨﻰ ﺍﻟﺠﺰﺀ ﺍﻟﻤﻴﺖ ﺍﻷﺭﺿﻲ ﻣﻨﻪ ﺍﻟﻨﺎﺭ، ﺛﻢ ﻳﺠﺘﺬﺏ ﺑﻌﺪ ﺫﻟﻚ ﺟﺰﺀﻩ ﺍﻟﺬﻱ ﻻ ﻳﻘﺒﻞ ﺍﻟﻤﻮﺕ ﻭﻳﺮﻓﻊ ﻧﻔﺴﻪ ﺇﻟﻰ ﺍﻟﺴﻤﺎﺀ.
The written accounts that we find about his [sc. Asclepius’] deification are more like idle talk than the truth. It is a well-known fact that he was raised to the angels in a column of fire. The same is also said about Dionysus and Heracles and similar men who work zealously for the benefit of mankind. In general, God, blessed and exalted, is said to have done this with Asclepius and all the others like him in order to destroy his mortal earthly part through fire and, afterwards, attract his immortal part and raise his soul to heaven.
In a note on the passage, Ḥunayn explains:
ﺟﺎﻟﻴﻨﻮﺱ ﻓﻲ ﻫﺬﺍ ﺍﻟﻤﻮﺿﻊ ﻳﺒﻴﻦ ﻛﻴﻒ ﻳﻜﻮﻥ ﺗﺸﺒﻪ ﺍﻹﻧﺴﺎﻥ ﺑﺎﻟﻠﻪ ﺗﺒﺎﺭﻙ ﻭﺗﻌﺎﻟﻰ ﻭﺫﻟﻚ ﺃﻧﻪ ﻳﻘﻮﻝ ﺇﻥ ﺍﻹﻧﺴﺎﻥ ﺇﺫﺍ ﺃﺑﺎﺩ ﺷﻬﻮﺍﺗﻪ ﺍﻟﺠﺴﻤﺎﻧﻴﺔ ﺑﺎﻟﻨﺎﺭ ﻭﺍﻟﺼﺒﺮ ﻭﺍﻹﻣﺴﺎﻙ ﻋﻨﻬﺎ ﻭﻫﻲ ﺍﻟﺘﻲ ﻳﺮﻳﺪ ﺑﻬﺎ “ﺟﺰﺀﻩ ﺍﻟﻤﻴﺖ ﺍﻷﺭﺿﻲ” ﻭﺯﻳﻦ ﻧﻔﺴﻪ ﺍﻟﻨﺎﻃﻘﺔ ﺑﻌﺪ ﺍﻟﻨﻔﻲ ﻣﻦ ﻫﺬﻩ ﺍﻟﺸﻬﻮﺍﺕ
ﺑﻬﺎ “ﺍﻻﺭﺗﻔﺎﻉ ﺇﻟﻰ ﺍﻟﺴﻤﺎﺀ” ﻛﺎﻥ ﺷﺒﻴﻬﺎ ﺑﺎﻟﻠﻪ ﺗﺒﺎﺭﻙ ﻭﺗﻌﺎﻟﻰ ʿﺑﺎﻟﻔﻀﺎﺋﻞ ﻭﻫﻲ ﺍﻟﺘﻲ ﻳﺮﻳﺪ..
Galen explains here how man can become more similar to God, blessed and exalted. He says that when a human being annihilates his bodily desires – this is what he means by “his mortal earthly part” – through the fire of endurance and abstention, and adorns his rational soul, after driving it away from those desires, with virtues – this is what he means by “raised to heaven” – he becomes similar to God, blessed and exalted.
Applying such a “cultural filter” on the Greek texts is probably the only example of replacement.Footnote 114 I am not saying that adapting the Greek beliefs to Islam and Christianity, the symbolic interpretation, or the changes carried out in the translation are either fair or not true to the source text, but I am referring to an important process that took place throughout the Arabic medieval translation movement, namely the critical and creative engagement with the source text, a process that eventually led to the introduction of Islamic philosophy by Avicenna.
Therefore, the Islamization of Greek texts resulted in two kinds of changes. The first change was carried out at the word, phrase, or sentence level where substitution, deletion, or addition could solve the problem. The second change was carried out at the level of ideas, and it usually involved greater creativity than the first change. The best example is the creation of ʿilm al-hayʾah (علم الهيئة, the science of configuration or astronomy) by the eleventh century. Muslim scholars and philosophers questioned the assumptions of astrology not only because astrological predictions could be wrong but also because they threatened God’s unity. As a result, Muslim scholars created a new field of astronomy that examined the positions of the planets, leaving aside the significance and influence of those positions on the world to another field that came to be known as ʿilm aḥkām al-nujūm (the science of the judgments of the stars or astrology).Footnote 115
In this section, some important characteristics of the Arabic translation movement have been discussed, but the classical claim – that the value of the medieval Arabic translation constitutes the preservation of Greek sciences until they are rediscovered in Europe – has not been challenged much so far. In fact, the characteristics outlined earlier – which I see as strengths rather than weaknesses – confirm, rather than challenge, that narrative. Unlike the Romans, who displaced the Greek texts, the Arabic translators respected their sources and paid painstaking attention to conveying their complete meaning. The work of the Arabic translators, along with their manuscript collation efforts and rigorous translation revisions, enabled the Latin scholars to later establish the Greek originals from the Arabic. However, this only partially explains the Arabic translation movement. Another equally significant narrative is how the Arabic translators added new thoughts to their sources by engaging with them critically and creatively, as we will explore in the next section.
6 Toward a Definition of Arabic Translation in the Medieval Period
Given the huge span of time covered by the Arabic translation movement and the wide area of the Muslim Empire where translation was practiced, some scholars argue that there is no coherent body of theories to explain the whole Graeco-Arabic translation movement. This is because of the considerable variation in the practiceFootnote 116 and because the medieval intellectuals rarely discussed the work of the translators.Footnote 117 In spite of that, there is a common theme among all medieval Arabic translations that is almost absent from the literature, namely the use of Arabic translation as a means of knowledge production. Only when we start looking at medieval Arabic translations from this perspective can a coherent body of theories appear to connect all of them. As a means of knowledge production, the most important feature of translation is the critical and creative engagement with the source text.
Translation as creative engagement with the source text is supported by the original meaning of the Arabic word tarjam (to translate). Morphologically speaking, the term tarjam is either from the root rajm, meaning “to throw stones at”Footnote 118 or “to guess,”Footnote 119 or from the quadrilateral root tarjam, which has a few meanings, two of them relating to translation: “to explain speech in another language” and “to explain one’s own speech in the same language.” These definitions are significant because they indicate that translation is not used in Arabic to refer to saying the same thing in another language. According to these definitions, translation refers to explaining, elaborating, or clarifying. That attitude toward translation, namely as explanation, was the most dominant approach during the Graeco-Arabic translation movement. Thus, various nouns such as naql (transfer) and taʿrīb (Arabization), and verbs such as sharaḥ (to explain) and fassar (to interpret), are used by Arabic writers in the medieval period to refer to translation activities.Footnote 120
The development of the meaning of “translation” from explanation, as used in the medieval period, to the rendition of equivalent meaning, as used in modern standard Arabic, points to the evolution of the Arab mind and its intellectual activities, since “in the birth of individual words and the stages of their growth could be discovered the stages of evolution of the human mind.”Footnote 121 Indeed, medieval Arabic translation involved critical and creative engagement, whereas contemporary Arabic translation has imprisoned the translator in producing an equivalent to the source text.
In the contemporary theory of translation, imitation and originality are restricted to a few problem-solving techniques. For example, translators can choose to imitate the source text, translate it word for word, or focus on the sense and convey the meaning in a different packaging. Similarly, translators can choose to either imitate the source text – thus producing a highly foreignizing translation – or domesticate it by adapting it to the target culture. Such procedures have little or nothing to do with the content, since contemporary translators are not theoretically supported to modify, reorganize, or supplement the content. In contrast, medieval Arabic translators used strategies that are no longer considered part of the process of translation, such as adding new information to the target text or presenting old information in a new form.
The Arabic medieval translation can also be analyzed according to an imitation–innovation model. The Arabic translators highly respected their source texts and took them as models to imitate. That is why epitomes and commentaries were the most common forms of scientific writings. However, the Arabic translators did not blindly imitate those texts. In many instances, they criticized, corrected, and improved their source texts. In general terms, the Arabic translators and the Muslim scholars after them attempted to save the Greek writers from any contradiction, correcting whatever they found inconsistent with the writer’s general ideas or approach. At the same time, their great respect for the Greek writers did not inhibit them from amending gaps and absurdities and adding new thought to the target text.
An important question to consider is whether adding original thought to translation coincides with medieval theory or violates its code. A quick survey of the criticisms that were addressed against translation indicates that translations were criticized for weak language or lack of clarity, but they were never criticized for adding fresh material to the source text. This means that the practice of improving and adding thought to the source text (i.e. creative engagement with the source text) was a common practice, and it was by no means aberrant to medieval Arabic translation standards.
Creative Engagement with the Source Text
Creative engagement with the source text occurs at any text level, from a single word to a whole treatise. It also involves, by necessity, critical engagement with the source text, as it is based upon an initial assessment of the strengths and weaknesses of the source text. Thus, the strategies underlying creative engagement involve a sensible process of decision-making based on careful examination of the source text. Creative engagement with the source text includes selecting a textual variant; analyzing and criticizing the views of the source text or correcting its mistakes; deleting redundant and inauthentic passages, including additions to fill a gap in the content; reframing the content; and adding new thought to the target text.
Selecting a Textual Variant
When more than one manuscript is available to the translator, he faces the problem of textual variation. In this case, two strategies have been recorded in the Arabic translation tradition. Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq collated the different manuscripts available to him, selecting and introducing, in his translation, the most convincing textual variant. The disadvantage of this method is that the manuscript loses part of its historical richness. By contrast, al-Ḥasan ibn Suwār ibn al-Khammār (943 to after 1017 CE) used a more flexible strategy, where he selected a variant while introducing other textual variants interlineally or in the margin.
In-text additions and comments, such as “We find that the copies disagree in this place,” which is added by Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq in his translation of the Epidemics,Footnote 122 are significant because they provide access to what was going on in the mind of the translator during the process of translation. Throughout history, translation theory has been prescriptive, consisting of rules outlining things that translators should or should not do. In the early twentieth century, the idea that scientific methodology could be applied to cultural products was developed by Russian formalists and, a few decades later, it was introduced in the field of translation studies with the works of Itamar Evan-Zohar and Gideon Toury.Footnote 123 At the same time, the psycholinguistic approach to translation offers scientific tools to examine the process of translation in actual time (i.e. what happens in the translator’s mind during the process of translating). With this approach, it is claimed that the mental process of translation is translators’ black box, to which we have no direct access unless the translators tell us what is going on in their minds while translating – via retrospective accounts or the think-aloud protocols in which translators translate, speak aloud, and record all of their thoughts while translating.Footnote 124 These methods have developed to include eye tracking and recording keyboard tapping, but the idea is the same – to have access to the mental process of translating. Since this is not possible for translations produced centuries ago, the only valuable sources we can rely on to understand the mental process of translation are retrospective writings such as the Risāla of Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq and in-text additions such as the one explained earlier.
Analyzing and Criticizing the Views of the Source Text or Correcting Its Mistakes
Creative engagement encompasses criticisms of the views of the source text. In his translation of the pseudo-Aristotelian Physiognomics, Ḥunayn uses his medical experience and knowledge to read the text critically. As Uwe Vagelpohl states, almost one-third of Ḥunayn’s notes on that work criticizes or even rejects “the reasoning of the author.”Footnote 125 In addition, creative engagement sometimes takes the form of correcting a mistake in a manuscript. For example, in his translation of Galen’s On the Capacities of Simple Drugs, Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq corrects “chasteberry seeds” to “flax seeds,” indicating in a gloss that it was a copyist error.Footnote 126
Similarly, in his translation of Ptolemy’s Almagest, al-Ḥajjāj ibn Maṭar corrected Ptolemy’s report about the length of the lunar month:
In it Ptolemy says that he was simply following Hipparchus who had in turn taken two lunar eclipses that were separated by 126,007 days and 1 hour, during which the moon made 4,267 revolutions. Ptolemy went on to say that if one divided the number of days by the number of revolutions, that is, divided 126,007d and 1 h by 4,267, one would get the length of the lunar month to be 29 days, 31 minutes, 50 seconds, 8 thirds, 20 fourths (or alternatively written as 29;31,50,8,20d). In fact if one were to carry out the division, as prescribed by Ptolemy, the answer would not be the one given in the Ptolemaic text, rather it would be 29;31,50, 8,9,20d, which is exactly the number found in the earliest surviving Arabic translation of the Almagest by al-Ḥajjāj.Footnote 127
This might seem a simple textual correction, but it cannot be done under normal circumstances. It requires not only background knowledge but also an attitude to examine and utilize the source text knowledge. George Saliba analyzes this correction in terms of the competition among the scholars to master the advanced sciences, hence having access to higher positions in the administration. This also confirms that translation was not simply an act of communicating meaning, but also a means of engaging with the advanced sciences.
Deleting Redundant and Inauthentic Passages
Sometimes, textual engagement requires pervasive changes, such as deleting whole sections because the translator believes they were fabricated and added to the text later. Ḥunayn employed that strategy, but he was not the first one to do so. Before him, Galen frequently expressed his views on genuine Hippocratic writings and those that were added to it later. Being familiar with Hippocrates’ views, Ḥunayn disqualified those writings that were at odds with the interpretation of Hippocrates’ views, as is clear from the following quotation:
ﻭﻟﻢ ﻳﻘﺘﺼﺮ ﺍﻟﻤﺘﺮﺟﻤﻮﻥ ﻟﻠﻜﺘﺐ ﻋﻠﻰ ﻫﺬﺍ ﺣﺘﻰ ﺃﺩﺧﻠﻮﺍ ﻓﻲ ﻫﺬﺍ ﺍﻟﻜﺘﺎﺏ ﻫﺬﻳﺎﻧﺎ ﻛﺜﻴﺮﺍ ﻭﻭﺻﻔﺎﺕ ﺑﺪﻳﻌﺔ ﻋﺠﻴﺒﺔ، ﻭﺃﺩﻭﻳﺔ ﻟﻢ ﻳﺮﻫﺎ ﺟﺎﻟﻴﻨﻮﺱ ﻭﻟﻢ ﻳﺴﻤﻊ ﺑﻬﺎ … ﻭﺳﺄﻟﻨﻲ ﺑﻌﺾ ﺃﺻﺪﻗﺎﺋﻲ ﺃﻥ ﺃﻗﺮﺃ ﺍﻟﻜﺘﺎﺏ ﺍﻟﺴﺮﻳﺎﻧﻲ ﻭﺃﺻﺤﺤﻪ ﻋﻠﻰ ﺣﺴﺐ ﻣﺎ ﺃﺭﻯ ﺃﻧﻪ ﻣﻮﺍﻓﻖ ﺭﺃﻱ ﺟﺎﻟﻴﻨﻮﺱ ﻓﻔﻌﻠﺖ.
The translators of the books were not content with this until they introduced into this book much drivel and marvelous and wonderous recipes, as well as drugs that Galen had not seen or even heard about … One of my friends asked me to read this Syriac book and correct it according to what I considered appropriate to the style of Galen, which I did.Footnote 128
Ḥunayn also thought critically of his own translation strategies. We have seen above that he deleted Aristophanes’ quotation in his Syriac into Arabic translation of Galen’s Medical Names because the Greek manuscript from which he initially translated the Syriac was unclear, and the meaning of the deleted passage was explained somewhere else in the text. In his translation of Book 2 of the Epidemics, he explains that he thought of deleting a Greek passage because he was unable to reproduce its multilayered meaning. Depending on how to parse the Greek passage, the reader can understand different meanings – all conveyed by Galen previously in the text. That time, Ḥunayn reconsidered deleting the phrase, deciding it may still be useful for some readers:Footnote 129
ﻗﺎﻝ ﺣﻨﻴﻦ: ﺇﻥ ﻫﺬﺍ ﺍﻟﻜﻼﻡ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻠﺴﺎﻥ ﺍﻟﻴﻮﻧﺎﻧﻲ ﻣﺤﺘﻤﻞ ﻷﻧﻪ ﻳﻘﻄﻊ ﻭﻳﻘﺮﺃ ﻋﻠﻰ ﺃﻧﺤﺎﺀ ﺷﺘﻰ ﻣﻦ ﺍﻟﺘﻘﻄﻴﻊ ﻭﺍﻟﻘﺮﺍﺀﺓ ﻓﻴﺪﻝ ﺑﺤﺴﺐ ﻛﻞ ﻭﺍﺣﺪ ﻣﻦ ﺃﻧﻮﺍﻉ ﺗﻘﻄﻴﻌﻪ ﻭﻗﺮﺍﺀﺗﻪ ﻋﻠﻰ ﻭﺍﺣﺪ ﻭﺍﺣﺪ ﻣﻦ ﻫﺬﻩ ﺍﻟﻤﻌﺎﻧﻲ ﺍﻟﺘﻲ ﺃﺷﺎﺭ ﺇﻟﻴﻬﺎ ﺟﺎﻟﻴﻨﻮﺱ. ﻭﻟﻴﺲ ﺫﻟﻚ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻌﺮﺑﻴﺔ ﺑﻤﻤﻜﻦ ﻭﻟﺬﻟﻚ ﻗﺪ ﻛﻨﺖ ﻫﻤﻤﺖ ﺑﺈﺳﻘﺎﻁ ﻫﺬﺍ ﺍﻟﻜﻼﻡ ﺇﺫ ﻛﺎﻥ ﻻ ﻳﻄﺎﺑﻖ ﺍﻟﻠﻐﺔ ﺍﻟﻌﺮﺑﻴﺔ ﻭﻳﻔﻬﻢ ﻓﻴﻬﺎ ﻋﻠﻰ ﺣﻘﻮﻗﻬﺎ ﺇﻻ ﺃﻧﻲ ﻟﻤﺎ ﻭﺟﺪﺕ ﻣﻌﺎﻧﻲ ﻗﺪ ﻣﺮﺕ ﻓﻲ ﻫﺬﺍ ﺍﻟﻜﻼﻡ ﻧﺎﻓﻌﺔ ﻟﻤﻦ ﺗﺪﺑﺮﻫﺎ ﺭﺃﻳﺖ ﺗﺮﺟﻤﺘﻪ ﻋﻠﻰ ﺣﺎﻝ ﺇﺫ ﻛﺎﻧﺖ ﻟﻴﺲ ﺗﻀﺮ ﺗﺮﺟﻤﺘﻪ ﻭﻫﻲ ﺇﻟﻰ ﻣﻨﻔﻌﺔ ﺃﻗﺮﺏ. ﻭﻣﻦ ﻗﺮﺃ ﻓﻘﺪﺭ ﺃﻥ ﻳﺼﻞ ﺇﻟﻰ ﺍﻻﻧﺘﻔﺎﻉ ﺑﻪ ﻓﻬﻮ ﻣﻨﻪ ﺭﺑﺢ ﻭﻣﻦ ﻟﻢ ﻳﻘﺪﺭ ﻋﻠﻰ ﺫﻟﻚ ﻓﻬﻮ ﻗﺎﺩﺭ ﺃﻥ ﻳﺘﺎﺭﻛﻪ ﻓﻼ ﻳﻀﺮﻩ ﻣﻜﺎﻧﻪ ﺷﻴﺌﺎ ﺇﻥ ﺷﺎﺀ ﺍﻟﻠﻪ.
Ḥunayn said: In the Greek this passage can be split up and read [i.e. parsed] in various ways. It signifies each separate meaning Galen pointed out depending on the particular ways it is split up and read. This is not possible in Arabic. Since this passage does not suit the Arabic language and could not be understood completely in it, I had considered dropping it but decided to translate it anyway when I found ideas in this passage that benefit the people who study them since translating it does not hurt but may rather be beneficial. Those who read it can draw [some] benefit and therefore profit from it; those who cannot may ignore it without suffering any harm, God willing.
Likewise, in a note on Book 6 of Galen’s Commentary on Hippocrates’ Epidemics, Ḥunayn explains that he deleted a passage not only because it posed a comprehension burden on the reader but also because it did not add anything valuable to the text.Footnote 130 He says:
ﺍﻗﺘﺺ ﺟﺎﻟﻴﻨﻮﺱ ﺃﻗﺎﻭﻳﻞ ﻣﻦ ﺃﻗﺎﻭﻳﻞ ﺃﻭﻣﻴﺮﻭﺱ ﻭﺃﻓﻼﻃﻮﻥ ﻭﻏﻴﺮﻫﻤﺎ ﻣﻦ ﺍﻟﻘﺪﻣﺎﺀ ﻗﺪ ﻳﺪﻝ ﻋﻠﻰ ﺍﻟﻨﺴﻖ ﻓﻴﻬﺎ ﻭﻧﺴﻖ ﺍﻟﺸﻲﺀ ﻋﻠﻰ ﻏﻴﺮ ﻣﺎ ﻫﻮ ﻣﻼﺋﻢ ﻟﻪ ﻟﻴﺲ ﻟﻪ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻌﺮﺑﻴﺔ
ﻧﻈﺎﺋﺮ ﺗﺤﺴﻦ ﻓﺘﺮﻛﺖ ﺗﺮﺟﻤﺘﻬﺎ ﻷﻧﻪ ﻻ ﻳﻨﺘﻔﻊ ﺑﻬﺎ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻌﺮﺑﻴﺔ …
Then, Galen related sayings by Homer, Plato, and others of the ancients in which he indicates that the [grammatical] congruence between them is inappropriate. In Arabic, there are no equivalents to it. I have, therefore, not translated them into Arabic as they are useless in Arabic …
Additions to Fill a Gap in the Content
When Ḥunayn added something to the body of his translation, it usually contributed to the content of the text, filling a gap or clarifying the meaning. As he says in a note in Book 2 of Galen’s Commentary on Hippocrates’ Epidemics:
ﻓﺘﻜﻠﻔﺖ ﺍﺳﺘﺘﻤﺎﻡ ﻣﺎ ﻧﻘﺺ ﻣﻦ ﻋﻨﺪ ﻧﻔﺴﻲ ﺑﺤﺴﺐ ﻣﺎ ﺭﺃﻳﺖ ﺟﺎﻟﻴﻨﻮﺱ ﻳﻨﺤﻮ ﻧﺤﻮﻩ ﻓﻲ
ﺗﻔﺴﻴﺮ ﺃﺷﺒﺎﻩ ﻫﺬﺍ ﺍﻟﻜﻼﻡ ﻭﻋﻠﻰ ﺍﻷﺻﻮﻝ ﺍﻟﺘﻲ ﺃﺧﺬﺗﻬﺎ ﻋﻨﻪ ﻣﻦ ﻛﺘﺒﻪ.
I took upon myself to fill the gap in accordance with what I thought was Galen’s method in commenting on similar lemmas and according to the principles I took from his writings.
Glen Cooper clarifies that one of the strategies that Ḥunayn employs in his translations is “adding context or explanation” based on his knowledge of Galen’s style and ideas. For example, in:
On Critical Days, when Galen is describing the symptoms that must occur in order to prevent the illness from returning, Ḥunayn adds: “so that when you see that the illness has abated without one of these two things occurring before it subsides”, that is, you may be sure that the illness will return, since the patient has not experienced a full recovery.Footnote 131
As Cooper explains, “this addition is consistent with Galenic crisis theory, and the physician is enjoined to watch for these crucial signs.”Footnote 132
Reframing the Content
Another type of creative engagement with the content is the addition of phrases that structure the content for the reader. Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq’s translation of the Epidemics is abundant with additions that give a sense of summary to the reader. Examples include, “there are two types,” “these two kinds,” “this fever is bad in two ways,” “there are two reasons for this,” “this takes the patient in one of two directions,” and “there were two possible outcomes.”Footnote 133
Similarly, creative engagement with the content comprises presenting the source text content in different forms. In his Risāla, Ḥunayn refers to two forms of such engagement: exposition and epitome. Examples of expositions include his translation of Hippocrates’ commentary on Nutrition. Ḥunayn says, “I translated it into Syriac for Salmawayh. I also translated the lemmata of Hippocrates’s treatise [found] in this book and to it added a short exposition.”Footnote 134 To his Syriac translation of Commentary on Hippocrates’s Oath, he added his own exposition of the difficult passages. He also added a short exposition to his Syriac translation of Commentary on Air, Water, and Places that he did not manage to finish.
The most recurrent form of critical presentation is the epitome. For example, as Uwe Vagelpohl explains, Ḥunayn’s audience was more interested in medical practice. To satisfy their needs, Ḥunayn summarized Galen’s commentaries on Hippocratic writings to remove the “long and unwieldy” material irrelevant for therapeutic and prognostic practice.Footnote 135 Ḥunayn also wrote summaries extracted from the Epidemics in question-and-answer format. Two such summaries, which are lost but referenced in other extant works, are Fuṣūl Istakhrajahā min Kitāb Ibīdīmyā (Aphorisms Drawn from the Epidemics) and Masāʾil fī al-BawlIintazaʿahā min Kitāb Ibīdīmyā li-Ibuqrāṭ (Questions on Urine Extracted from Hippocrates’ Epidemics). Ḥunayn also summarized Books 1, 2, and 3 of Hippocrates Epidemics under the title Jawāmiʿ Maʿānī al-Maqāla al-Ūlā wa-al-Thāniyaa wa-al-Thālitha min Kitāb Ibuqrāṭ ʿala Ṭarīq al-masʾala wa-al-jawāb (Summaries of the Contents of Books 1, 2, and 3 of Hippocrates’ Epidemics in the Form of Questions and Answers).Footnote 136
In his Risāla, Ḥunayn refers to some of these summaries. In his comment on Galen’s Decay, he says, “I think that Job has translated it. As for me, I did not translate it. Rather, I extracted in tabular form its [essential] ideas (that is, its main points), along with [those of] some other volumes.”Footnote 137 In his comment on Authentic and Spurious Works of Hippocrates, Ḥunayn states that he translated the volume into Syriac for ʿĪsā ibn Yaḥyā and made an epitome of it.Footnote 138
That practice of producing epitomes was developed by Averroes, who was known to produce three types of epitomes, each targeting a particular audience. For the public and nonspecialist readers, Averroes produced short summaries that were easily digestible and eased any discrepancies between Aristotle’s and Muslim doctrines. For the learned who were not philosophers, he produced the middle commentary, and for the Muslim philosophers, he wrote the long commentaries. Other strategies of critical engagement with the content included reproducing the information in the form of tables and diagrams. These diagrams are known as the tashjīr genre, and Ḥunayn was among the first scholars to use it.Footnote 139 Although these fresh presentations are performed after translation, they are completely based on translation and are carried out by translators.
Another example of reframing the content is reorganizing a work and potentially choosing a different title. A good example is Ibrahim al-Fazārī’s (d. 777 CE) translation of Zīj al-Sindhind, for which he changed the title and order of the chapters. We learn from the Risāla of Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq that reorganizing a work was not uncommon in the Alexandrian school. One example is Galen’s treatise on veins and arteries. As Ḥunayn says, “This book, according to Galen, consists of a single volume … As for the Alexandrians, they divided it into two volumes, one on veins and one on arteries.”Footnote 140 In his comment on his translation of Galen’s book on the Causes, it becomes clear that both the Alexandrian and Syriac scholars practiced that sort of critical engagement:
This book is a miscellany in six volumes … Galen did not join all of these volumes into a single book, nor did he give them a single title. As for the Alexandrians, they joined them and called them Causes, a name derived from their major theme. As for the speakers of Syriac, they entitled them Causes and Symptoms. Such a title is not appropriate for the book and quite faulty. If they wanted to fill out the title, they ought to have added and Diseases.Footnote 141
Adding New Thought to the Target Text
Creative engagement encompasses adding new information to the text by the translator. Although examples are abundant in all fields of translation, including medicine and philosophy, the most renowned example comes from the literature.Footnote 142 When ʿAbd Allāh ibn al-Muqaffaʿ (d. 759/60 CE) translated Kalīla wa-Dimna, he not only changed the title and rewrote the whole book in his beautiful Arabic style but he also became inspired and added his own stories to the book.
Kalīla wa-Dimna is a collection of the Indian fables of Bidpai, translated from intermediary Pahlavi, but originally written in Sanskrit under the title Panchatantra. Tarek Shamma analyzes Kalīla wa-Dimna, giving numerous examples of how Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ domesticated the text to its new Islamic context. Many words, phrases, and sentences that Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ integrated in his work are comparable to the Quranic terms and verses and are not, of course, part of the source text. Some Islamic concepts, such as the doctrine of reckoning on the Day of Judgment and the concept of qadar (destiny) that were introduced into the translation, play central roles.Footnote 143 In addition to these changes, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ added his own original composition to the book. For example, the chapter entitled “Al-faḥṣ ʿan amr Dimna” (Investigating Dimna) was found neither in the original Sanskrit text nor in another old translation into Syriac. This chapter, in which Dimna is convicted and executed for manipulating the Lion into killing Shatraba, embodies the moral lesson of the story, and it is the chapter with the most Islamic character. It was added to secure a satisfactory response from the Muslim audience to the moral lesson of the book. According to Abd al-Wahhāb ʿAzzām, the Pahlavi version also had added chapters that did not exist in the Sanskrit version.Footnote 144
Kalīla wa-Dimna played an important role in the development of Arabic literature, since prose narrative had not existed before in the Arabic literary system. Non-Arab converts to Islam who were raised in another culture like Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ thought that new literary genres such as the Indian fables might be admired by the Arabs, so Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ introduced Kalīla wa-Dimna, which was the first prose narrative in Arabic, and it paved the way for similar genres, such as the maqāma genre. Comparing Kalīla wa-Dimna and al-Maqāmāt al-Luzūmiyya of al-Saraquṣtī (d. 538/1143 CE), David Wacks explains that:
The two texts represent a convergence of different oral narrative traditions: in Kalila, we find the animal fable tradition originating in India, and in the maqāma, the Arabic tradition of popular preaching and story-telling, coupled with anecdotal religious literature such as the hadīth. The episodic frametale structure introduced into Arabic literature by Kalīila is adapted by the maqāma, which can be seen as one of Medieval literature’s first forays into realistic prose fiction.Footnote 145
Additions of new information in scientific and philosophical works are usually marked with a verbal phrase – for example, “Ḥunayn said” – attributing the new information to the translator. In her analysis of Galen’s Commentary on the Hippocratic Aphorisms and its Arabic translation, Elaine van Dalen concludes that Ḥunayn uses the verb form aḥsabu (“I think,” “I assume”) sixteen times, “especially in the paragraphs in which he adds his own ideas to the translation.” Another verb form that Ḥunayn uses frequently when adding his personal experience and thoughts to his translation is najidu (“we find”).Footnote 146 This implies not only great respect to the source text but also a high regard for the moral responsibility of the translator. On the one hand, the translator does his best to produce an accurate and complete translation of the source text and marks his own additions and comments by introducing them with personal forms. On the other hand, the translator or scholar does not find it sufficient to convey the meaning of the source text without critically and creatively engaging with it. Further, similar to what the translator does to differentiate the original text from his additions, copyists, as with the manuscript of Ḥunayn’s translation of Galen’s commentaries on Hippocrates, sometimes write the introductory formulae, such as “Ḥunayn said” and “Galen said,” as well as the translator’s notes, with different ink and in a thicker script.Footnote 147 This implies a high sense of moral responsibility on the part of copyists to differentiate between the original text and additions from the translator.
The following is an example of creative engagement from Ḥunayn’s Risāla. In his comment on his translation of Opinions of Hippocrates and Plato, Ḥunayn explains that Job of Edessa translated that book into Syriac. Ḥunayn had several manuscripts of that book in Greek, so he worked on a new translation into Syriac. To that translation, he added a volume of his own “in defense of what Galen said in the seventh volume of this book.”Footnote 148
This practice of critically and creatively engaging with the source text would soon go beyond translation and pave the way for a whole tradition called shukūk (doubts). The first book in this genre was al-Rāzī’s Kitāb al-Shukūk ʿala Jālīnūs (The Book of Doubts Concerning Galen). Al-Rāzī’s criticisms of twenty-six books by Galen are not entirely different from Ḥunayn’s critical and creative engagement with the Galenic corpus. Both corrected possible copyist errors, as well as information that was not consistent with Galen’s ideas. In addition, they corrected information that was not consistent with their observation or experience.Footnote 149 Astronomical shukūk soon followed. As George Saliba says, the fact that the astronomical shukūk books were produced in al-Andalus, in the far Islamic West at that time, as well as in Bukhara, in the far Islamic East, and by astronomers as well as philosophers, “could only mean that the cosmological issues that were perceived to have plagued Ptolemaic astronomy were by then circulating in widespread intellectual and geographical circles; they were no longer restricted to the elite of astronomical theoreticians.”Footnote 150 The shukūk genre was restricted neither to astronomy nor to the elite; it became a way of thinking and an approach to knowledge in general.
7 A Model of Arabic Translation Analysis
A model for the analysis of medieval Arabic translation includes four processes: externalization, combination, internalization, and actualization. Externalization is the pouring of ideas into the world.Footnote 151 It applies to the production of knowledge that is contained in source texts produced prior to translation in another language and culture. However, it does not apply to translation as it is defined today, since it consists of old ideas expressed in a different language. The Greek texts that were translated into Arabic in the medieval age are instances of externalization, produced a long time before the Arabic translation movement.
Combination is the process of converting knowledge from the source language to the target language. This is the process through which groups and individuals combine knowledge, potentially creating new knowledge. I define translation, then, not as a process of knowledge transfer, but as a process of knowledge combination. In its simplest form, translation is a combination of two linguistic systems and two cultures. Linguistically speaking, when the ideas of the source text are expressed in another form (i.e. the target language), the translator does not produce a pure target text that is void of any influence of the language of the source text. There are usually traces of interference. However, even if this pure linguistic form is hypothetically achievable, we still have an instance of combination where ideas produced in another culture combine with a local linguistic system, thus being introduced to a new audience.
Combination may also occur at the level of content when the translator engages creatively with the source text. In the Arabic translation movement, we have more than one form of combination. For example, some Arabic translators, such as Ibrahim al-Fazārī, who translated Zīj al-Sindhind al-Kabīr, combine more than one source to produce their translations. When Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq added a summary to some of his translations, he combined the full target text with his own perception of the more important information to include in a summary. Nevertheless, combination reaches a peak when translators add new thought to translation. In this case, they combine new knowledge, based on their expertise and environment, to knowledge that already exists in the source text. When Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ added fresh material to Kalīla wa-Dimna, he combined the Indian animal fables with his political project.
Since translation is both a process and a product, combination is observed in both. As a product, we can see new information integrated in the medieval Arabic translations, taking the form of glosses, commentaries, or text segments that were added. As a process, translation involves internalization and actualization. Internalization means the translator comprehends the material of the source text fully enough that he can present it in a different form, such as writing a summary or adding new thoughts to it. Thus, internalization is a process of learning through translating. After internalizing the information of the source text, the translator begins to put his newly acquired knowledge to use, produces new knowledge, and adds it to the target text. In this sense, learning through translation is not only about knowing but also about becoming. Medieval Arabic translation is not repetition, imitation, or even participation in some pursuit totally designed by another culture; it is fusion that has created a new self. It is this new self that makes Arabic translation a prominent tradition. Iṣṭifan ibn Basīl was a superior example in this context. Iṣṭifan ibn Basīl did not sit with pen and paper and translate the source text. Between analyzing the source text and synthesizing the target text, he went through internalization and actualization. He studied the source text, learned about the drugs, administered them, and, after that, Arabized them.
Translation as a form of combination does not fully explain the success of the Abbasid translation movement because it is a process that was practiced only by the elite – the translators and scientists. Another aspect, which I call “the spiral of influence,” explains the effect of translation on culture. This “spiral of influence” can explain how the medieval translation movement enriched the Arabic language. When a new term is introduced through translation, the masses who are actively engaged in learning begin to use it, so the term moves up the spiral until it becomes part of the Arabic language. Without the spiral of influence, the term remains in the narrow circles of the elite or it disappears. That is why translation needs a fertile learning environment to achieve its effect.
We have seen how translation in the Abbasid Golden Age introduced new ways of thinking and contributed to a more rational, critical, and creative frame of mind. Through a spiral of influence, the new way of thinking – along with the new terminology and tools of expression – involved more people from the public. This was facilitated by the fact that some translations were produced for the public, which accelerated the spiral of influence, speeding up the impact of translation on the masses. Once the circle of utilizing the products of translation was widened, new gaps began to appear. To close such gaps, more advanced knowledge in new translations or original compositions became a necessity, and so on and so forth.Footnote 152
8 How Arabic Translation Changed
In the medieval period, translation played a pivotal role at least twice in the progress of scientific knowledge. The first was the translation movement of Baghdad, when the works of the Greek masters were translated from Greek and intermediary Syriac into Arabic. The second was when the scholars of Toledo, the intellectual center of the Latin West, translated Arabic works into Latin. The Toledo translation movement featured characteristics from three sources: the Romans, the patristic writings, and the Arabic translation movement of Baghdad. The Arabic influence did not continue for long, and it was noticeable in only some of the early translations. The patristic views constituted the stronger influence on all religious and scientific translations, whereas the Roman approach of the rhetoricians was clear in literary translation.
With the advent of the Reformation in the sixteenth century and the challenges it posed to Catholicism, the Church grew suspicious of the effect of translation as an instrument for reinterpreting sacred texts, thus undermining the Church’s authority as providing the “correct” interpretation. As a result, translation in general was discouraged, and greater formal fidelity and literalness was desired by churchmen to block interpretation, as well as by translators themselves to reduce any personal responsibility.Footnote 153 At the same time, the rise of philology and the increased interest in classical Latin confirmed that literalism is the best choice to rediscover the legacy of classical Latin and Greek literature.
In the history of Latin and vernacular European translation, literary translation is generally distinguished from sacred and scientific translation. Literary translation is concerned with the creation of new literary forms through translation, hence the idea of translation as creation, whereas sacred and scientific translations are concerned with the transmission of intellectual information. This was further emphasized in the nineteenth century, when literalism was the more widespread technique for scientific translation. In contrast, literary translation, particularly the translation of English Gothic novels into French, was responding to the entertainment demands of the market and, as a result, translators creatively carried out various changes such as inserting a totally new title, deleting whole passages, or adding fresh material to their translations.Footnote 154
In late nineteenth-century Europe, philosophical and scientific works were no longer imported to Europe through translation, as Europe had become the source of original writings in these fields. Instead of philosophical and scientific works, “modernist translators were attracted to literary novelties.”Footnote 155 There was a demand for literary translations to be made available soon after publications in the original language.
A similar market for literary translation emerged in the Middle East in the late nineteenth century; however, in the early nineteenth century through to the second half of the nineteenth century, there was a demand for scientific translation. That demand was represented by a strong translation movement in Egypt that emerged as a part of Muhammad Ali’s modernizing project. As practiced within this translation movement, Arabic translation featured characteristics of both the Middle Age and the modern European translation practices. Like the Abbasid translators, the Arabic translators in Egypt engaged creatively with their source texts, but like the European translators, they gave priority to fluency and rhetorical style. Egypt, Syria, and Lebanon had a literary translation movement in the mid-nineteenth century, during which Arabic translation seemed to sever its ties with the Middle Ages and was fully influenced by the modern European translation theory and practice.
The series is edited by Kirsten Malmkjær with Sabine Braun as associate editor for Elements focusing on Interpreting.
Kirsten Malmkjær
University of Leicester
Kirsten Malmkjær is Professor Emeritus of Translation Studies at the University of Leicester. She has taught Translation Studies at the universities of Birmingham, Cambridge, Middlesex and Leicester and has written extensively on aspects of both the theory and practice of the discipline. Translation and Creativity (London: Routledge) was published in 2020 and The Cambridge Handbook of Translation, which she edited, was published in 2022. She is preparing a volume entitled Introducing Translation for the Cambridge Introductions to Language and Linguistics series.
Sabine Braun
University of Surrey
Sabine Braun is Professor of Translation Studies and Director of the Centre for Translation Studies at the University of Surrey. She is a world-leading expert on interpreting and on research into human and machine interaction in translation and interpreting, for example to improve access to information, media and public services for linguistic-minority populations and other groups/people in need of communication support. She has written extensively on these topics, including Videoconference and Remote Interpreting in Criminal Proceedings, with J. Taylor, 2012; Here or There: Research on Interpreting via Video Link, with J. Napier and R. Skinner, 2018; and Innovation in Audio Description Research, with K. Starr, 2020.
Editorial Board
Adriana Serban, Université Paul Valéry
Barbara Ahrens, Technische Hochschule Köln
Liu Min-Hua, Hong Kong Baptist University
Christine Ji, The University of Sydney
Jieun Lee, Ewha Womans University
Lorraine Leeson, The University of Dublin
Sara Laviosa, Università Delgi Stuidi di Bari Aldo Moro
Fabio Alves, FALE-UFMG
Moira Inghilleri, University of Massachusetts Amherst
Akiko Sakamoto, University of Portsmouth
Haidee Kotze, Utrecht University
About the Series
Elements in Translation and Interpreting present cutting edge studies on the theory, practice and pedagogy of translation and interpreting. The series also features work on machine learning and AI, and human-machine interaction, exploring how they relate to multilingual societies with varying communication and accessibility needs, as well as text-focused research.
