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The Prophet Muhammad's seal
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![[Iraq]](../images/i/iq}isis.gif) image located by William Garrison, 30 October 2013
image located by William Garrison, 30 October 2013
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	Claiming to channel pure Islam, the Islamic State fell for a long-debunked 
19th century hoax
https://newlinesmag.com/writers/ahmed-el-shamsy/ 
Ahmed El Shamsy is 
associate professor of Islamic thought at the University of Chicago
28 Oct. 2021 "New Lines Magazine" 
In 1854, a French diplomat named François Alphonse Belin made a bombshell announcement: the discovery of an original 
letter sent by the Prophet Muhammad to the governor of Egypt in the seventh 
century, complete with Muhammad's personal seal. Biographies of the Prophet tell 
us he wrote such letters, but until then it was thought that none survived. 
Belin's account of the discovery is thrilling, albeit fictitious. But the 
letter's real history - and the histories of other letters purportedly written 
by Muhammad that surfaced soon after it - is no less fascinating. The forged 
letters passed through the hands of canny businesspeople, eager scholars and 
gullible sultans. They were eventually enshrined in the most unlikely of places: 
the official flag of the Islamic State group.
According to Belin, 
Muhammad's letter had been unearthed by a Frenchman named Etienne Barth l my 
when researching in the libraries of Coptic monasteries near the southern 
Egyptian town of Akhmim. Belin's account of Barth l my's find is full of 
sensationalist flourishes: It depicts Barth l my struggling heroically against 
exhaustion and bankruptcy to rescue ancient books from oblivion and bring them 
to the light of science. His perseverance was rewarded when he came upon an 
Arabic manuscript. Examining the damaged binding, he spied a sheet of parchment 
within it and began to pry the binding apart, having recognized the word 
"Muhammad" written in an ancient hand. Feverish with excitement, he bought the 
manuscript for closer scrutiny. Belin quotes a letter that Barth l my sent to 
his family soon afterward, describing his painstaking efforts to decipher the 
letter and concluding: "Given the seal and the beginning of the first line, I am 
inclined to believe that this parchment is a letter from Muhammad addressed to 
the Coptic nation, and that this seal is that of the prophet of the Muslims."
Though trained by the foremost Orientalists of his time, Belin had pursued a 
career in the French foreign service, working first as a translator and then as 
consul in Cairo and Istanbul. With his scholarly credentials and his prominent 
position, Belin's judgment carried considerable clout. The detailed study of the 
purported letter that he published contained a transcription and French 
translation of the text, which calls on the Christian inhabitants of Egypt to 
convert to Islam and proposes dialogue on the basis of shared monotheism. 
Belin's description of the document precisely matched the descriptions of 
Muhammad's letter contained in early Muslim historical works, such as the ninth 
century "Conquest of Egypt" of Ibn Abd al-Hakam. In addition, Belin argued that 
the script of the letter resembled the ancient scripts used in the early Quranic 
manuscripts that French Orientalists had acquired (by force) during Napoleon's 
occupation of Egypt. Thanks, no doubt, to Belin's endorsement, the letter was 
bought by the Ottoman Sultan Abdul Majid in 1858 for the staggering price of 
500,000 Turkish piasters - equivalent to 73 pounds of gold.
Orientalist 
scholars, too, were caught up in the excitement. Although the journal of the 
German Orientalist society admitted in 1856 that the letter's authenticity had 
not yet been established with certainty, it declared that Belin's thorough study 
had made it very likely. Four years later, Theodor N ldeke, in the first edition 
of his groundbreaking study of the Quran, claimed that the authenticity of the 
letter could not be doubted. Given this overwhelming agreement, the letter's 
script was subsequently used to authenticate other texts. For example, in 1857 a 
newly discovered cache of copper coins was declared authentic on the basis of 
similarities between the script of the letter and that on the coins.
The 
first cracks in the consensus appeared in 1863, when another letter purportedly 
written by Muhammad came to light. This letter was likewise bought by the 
Ottoman sultan. Heinrich Leberecht Fleischer, the doyen of Orientalist studies 
in Germany at the time, openly mocked the second letter, writing that "the 
Italian who has forged or peddled it must have been born under a lucky star if 
he manages to fool truly learned Muslims." Pointing out many crude errors in it, 
such as the misspelling of the addressee's name, Fleischer suggested that "the 
man wanted to see whether the hen that laid such beautiful golden eggs for the 
seller of Muhammad's [other] letter . is still alive."
tracing of a letter 
claiming to have been written by the Prophet Muhammad / Courtesy of author 
A more extensive and definitive critique came from the Austrian Orientalist 
Joseph Karabacek, who worked on the Arabic papyrus collection in Vienna, which 
contains some of the oldest documents written by Muslims anywhere in the world. 
According to Karabacek, a comparative paleographic analysis - focusing on the 
form of the script - of these ancient papyri and the letter to the Copts clearly 
showed the latter to be a forgery. The German scholarly community quickly 
accepted Karabacek's conclusions. When Theodor N ldeke published the second 
edition of his Quran book, he frankly reversed his earlier stance, declaring 
that the letters were "definitely not authentic." (British Orientalists, far 
behind their mainland colleagues in the study of scripts, held out longer.)
In the Muslim world, the authenticity of the purported letters from Muhammad 
went undiscussed for some time, probably because the letters were initially 
hidden from the public eye. The Ottoman sultans, who had quickly amassed a total 
of four such letters, kept them within their collection of sacred relics (which 
also contained items such as Muhammad's tooth, cloak and beard hair) and paid 
their respects to them on ceremonious annual visits. Questions were not raised 
until 1904, when an article in the Egyptian journal al-Hilal argued that the 
letters' script betrayed a crude attempt to imitate early Islamic writing. But 
the letters received staunch support from the Hyderabadi scholar Muhammad 
Hamidullah, who, in a series of publications from 1935 to 1985, defended the 
authenticity not only of the four letters that had been in the sultan's 
collection but also of two other letters in private hands.
Hamidullah's 
central argument was that neither Muslim nor Orientalist scholars in the 19th 
century had sufficient knowledge of early scripts to produce such sophisticated 
forgeries, so the letters had to be genuine. But this is not true: Already half 
a century before Belin's article, Orientalist scholars - foremost among them 
Belin's teacher Sylvestre de Sacy - had studied and characterized the script of 
early Quran fragments, which they called "Kufic." Radiocarbon dating has since 
established that these fragments do indeed date from the first century of Islam 
and comparing them to the letters makes it clear that the latter are fake: The 
scribes who wrote them were struggling to imitate a profoundly unfamiliar 
script. The baseline of the words is inconsistent, the spacing is off, and the 
letters are drawn unsteadily rather than written. Thanks to the internet, today 
one can browse dozens of samples of Quranic writing, as well as other documents 
and rock inscriptions, from the first decades of Islam. Next to these genuine 
samples, the purported letters look like Disneyland castles juxtaposed with 
their medieval models. But at a time when few people had access to genuine Kufic 
texts, the forgeries had a chance of passing successfully.
The seal at 
the end of the letters also raises questions. According to early descriptions, 
Muhammad's personal seal contained the phrase "Muhammad, apostle [of] God," with 
each word on a separate line, starting with "Muhammad" on the top. The phrase in 
this form is attested on very early Islamic coins. But by the 14th century, some 
Muslim scholars were beginning to speculate that the word order on the seal 
might actually have been the opposite: "God" on the first line, "apostle" on the 
second and "Muhammad" on the third. This arrangement would have placed God, 
rather than Muhammad, at the top, which these scholars felt would be more 
appropriate. The idea was taken up by al-Halabi (died 1635), the author of a 
fanciful but enduringly popular biography of Muhammad that featured all kinds of 
fictional embellishments. However, as Ibn Hajar al-Asqalani (died 1449), an 
authority on reports about Muhammad, pointed out, there is no historical 
evidence to support the claim that the seal's text began with "God." It was a 
medieval invention.
So the letters are fakes. But who forged them, and 
why? Karabacek suspected Egyptian Copts, pointing to a well-known medieval 
practice in Christian and Jewish communities of forging letters in which 
Muhammad exempts the recipients from taxation. But these medieval letters were 
written for an obvious practical goal, their content was unattested in 
historical accounts, and they generally claimed to be mere copies rather than 
originals. By contrast, the letter touted by Barth l my was marketed as the 
genuine one, from the hand of the Prophet himself. It replicated the text of a 
known document, mimicked the early Kufic script and was written on parchment 
rather than paper (an important detail, since paper was adopted in the Arab 
world only after Muhammad's time).
The first suspect must be Barth l my 
himself, a keen entrepreneur with knowledge of Oriental languages. He publicized 
his find actively among diplomats and academics and succeeded in securing 
Belin's endorsement, which facilitated the enormously lucrative sale of the 
letter to the Ottoman court. Other suspect figures include two Europeans, 
Ribandi and Wilkinson, who acted as intermediaries in the sale, and an Italian 
who claimed to have obtained the second letter through daring subterfuge, 
traveling across Syria in native disguise (a trope of 19th-century Oriental 
adventure fantasies), purchasing the letter under false pretenses. The tales of 
these European "discoverers" are full of colorful clich s but remarkably thin on 
details. In which monastery did Barth l my find the Arabic manuscript containing 
the first letter? From whom did the unnamed Italian buy the second letter?
The formulism and convenient omissions of these stories and the suspicious 
features of the letters themselves indicate that the letters were forged in the 
19th century by Europeans who had enough scholarly training to produce credible 
fabrications as well as the requisite connections and business savvy to turn 
them into money. These men took the early historical reports that Muhammad sent 
letters to foreign rulers and spun them into artifacts that could pique the 
interest of the Ottoman sultan.
After the collapse of the Ottoman empire, 
the letters and other prophetic relics in the sultan's collection were 
incorporated into the Topkapi Palace museum and displayed as tourist 
attractions. They also continued to hold devotional value for the pious, as 
shown by a 1920s post-Ottoman pamphlet featuring an image and a Turkish 
translation of the letter to the Copts.
But the letters received an 
entirely new lease on life in 2007, when the militant group then calling itself 
the Islamic State of Iraq adopted a flag that includes an exact replica of 
Muhammad's purported seal, copied from the forged letters. In an anonymous 
document disseminated online, the group explicitly acknowledged the Topkapi 
letters as the source of the seal. To their credit, the militants were aware 
that the word order on the seal did not match early descriptions, but they 
argued that the discovery of the actual letters made further doubts about the 
correct order moot. That the letters might be fake, or that their script was 
questionable, was not mentioned.
When the group renamed itself the 
Islamic State in 2014 and established its short-lived caliphate, the forged seal 
of Muhammad became the symbol of the militants' rule. It not only was used on 
the infamous black flag but also branded the Islamic State's considerable 
propaganda output and was stamped on its documents. A European Orientalist fraud 
was broadcast to the world by a group claiming to be the rightful inheritors of 
the Prophet's mantle.
The Islamic State embraced what it thought was 
Muhammad's seal for the same reason that the Ottoman sultan was willing to pay 
exorbitant prices for Muhammad's purported letters: to claim legitimacy. Whereas 
the sultan's purchase of the letters was a continuation of his dynasty's 
centuries-long campaign of amassing sacred objects, the Islamic State had little 
interest in the objects themselves; it merely sought to harness the symbolic 
significance of the seal, which could be easily reproduced and disseminated. It 
is, perhaps, understandable that neither the Ottomans nor the Islamic State were 
interested in examining the actual historicity of their symbols too closely.
Instead of springing from the pen of Muhammad's scribes in the seventh 
century, the letters attributed to him were products of an enterprising class of 
men in the age of European colonialism who saw an opportunity to monetize the 
growing hunger of museums, libraries and private collectors for historical 
artifacts. Although local inhabitants of the Middle East also profited from such 
frauds, it was Europeans who occupied the most high-profile and lucrative 
positions in this thriving industry. They possessed the resources, the prestige 
and the scholarly tools that enabled them to identify and obtain genuine 
artifacts - and to credibly fabricate others. The case of Muhammad's letters 
shows how unsavory origins could be camouflaged with sensationalist stories of 
discovery and scholarly window-dressing to satisfy an audience willing to 
believe that they were looking at the real thing. The Islamic State's caliphate 
was in no way unique in this regard: Countless postcolonial states were built on 
colonial mythologies created and developed by Orientalist scholars. Yet the fact 
that the Islamic State - a group obsessed with its own authenticity and freedom 
from outside influences - fell for a 150-year-old European fraud is not without 
irony.Located by William Garrison, 8 January 2025