IntroductionFootnote ¹

In his al-Qisṭās al-mustaqīm, Abū Ḥāmid al-Ġazālī (d. 505/1111) made the case that syllogistic logic is embedded in the Qur’an.Footnote ² Al-Ġazālī opened the doors for the scholars who followed him—most notably Faḫr ad-Dīn ar-Rāzī (d. 606/1209), who upheld al-Ġazālī’s approach and applied it in his tafsīr.Footnote ³ Within the same framework, the Ḥanbalite theologian Naǧm ad-Dīn aṭ-Ṭūfī (d. 716/1316) applied logic to various Qur’anic passages in al-Išārāt al-Ilāhiyyah ilā al-mabāḥiṯ al-uṣūliyyah and ʿAlam al-ǧaḏal fī ʿilm al-ǧadal.Footnote ⁴ The present article considers Ibn ʿArafah al-Warġammī (d. 803/1401), a Tunisian scholar who belonged to the Ḥafṣid era. Ibn ʿArafah uniquely contributed to the tradition that intertwined the science of logic with the Qur’an,Footnote ⁵ and thereby spoke cogently to the larger relationship between reason and revelation.Footnote ⁶

Ibn ʿArafah was characterised by ad-Dāwūdī (d. 945/1538), who included him in his biographical dictionary of Qur’an exegetes, Ṭabaqāt al-mufassirīn, as a leading scholar of Qur’anic sciences who excelled in tafsīr (imāman fī ʿulūmi l-Qurʾāni muǧīdan fī t-tafsīr).Footnote ⁷ In addition, his commentary on the Qur’an was regarded highly by Ibn ʿĀšūr (d. 1973). Listing what he described as ‘the most important commentaries’ (ahamm at-tafāsīr)—in an entry that includes the works of aṭ-Ṭabarī (d. 310/923), az-Zamaḫšarī (d. 538/1144), and Faḫr ad-Dīn ar-Rāzī—Ibn ʿĀšūr (d. 1973) wrote: ‘as well as what is extant from the commentary of Muḥammad Ibn ʿArafah the Tunisian, as compiled by his student al-Ubbī.’Footnote ⁸ Aligning Ibn ʿArafah’s work alongside towering figures in the history of tafsīr indicates its high value, at least in the eyes of a major contemporary commentator, Ibn ʿĀšūr. Despite its apparent importance in tafsīr, interest in Ibn ʿArafah’s Qur’an commentary in European and American modern scholarship is lacking.Footnote ⁹ Even less attention is given to the role of logic in his Qur’an commentary—as far as I am aware, both Arabic and Western studies on Ibn ʿArafah are almost oblivious to the way in which Ibn ʿArafah purposely employed logic to understand the Qur’an.Footnote ¹⁰ Perhaps the factor that has contributed most to this neglect is the fact that his logic-based interpretations are buried within the tafsīr and can be easily overlooked. Therefore, seeking to provide a preliminary sketch of Ibn ʿArafah’s conception of the relationship between the Qur’an and logic is the overarching concern addressed in this article. Specifically, I shall argue that, according to Ibn ʿArafah’s system, a dialectical relationship exists between the Qur’an and logic. This core thesis unpacks into four interrelated propositions that I seek to demonstrate in this article. They are that Ibn ʿArafah: 1) conceived of the Qur’an as providing the foundations for logic; 2) understood logic to be interwoven with the Qur’an; 3) adapted the arsenal of logic for the purposes of tafsīr—that is, for uncovering the meanings of the Qur’an; and 4) expanded the practical use of logic in Qur’anic exegesis in an unprecedented manner. The four propositions will be treated in separate sections, although I should stress at the outset that they are closely intertwined and it is difficult to completely isolate one from the other.

Although my focus is on Ibn ʿArafah’s work, as disseminated by two of his students, my broader concerns relate to the way in which logic applies to Qur’anic exegesis.Footnote ¹¹ I am curious about the relationship between the Qur’an and logic and the ways in which logic was incorporated in works of tafsīr throughout Islamic intellectual history.Footnote ¹² For this reason, I will chart, when possible, the potential debts of Ibn ʿArafah—that is, the genealogy of influences that shaped some of his ideas on the exegetical bearings of logic. I will also briefly trace how his ideas—in particular, his logic-based interpretations—were received or, for that matter, neglected in the tafsīr works that succeeded him.

The article is arranged as follows. After this introduction, I will set the preliminary context by considering a brief biography of Ibn ʿArafah and highlighting what we know hitherto of his tafsīr. I will then describe how Ibn ʿArafah conceived of the Qur’an as providing the theoretical foundations for generating logical discourse. That is, the way in which Ibn ʿArafah sought to extract the Qur’anic proof texts that legitimise the science of logic. In the fourth part of the article, I will proceed to argue that, according to Ibn ʿArafah, not only does the Qur’an authorise logic, but logic is also already present in the Qur’an. I will attempt to prove this by analysing Ibn ʿArafah’s syllogisation of the Qur’an and his structuring of Qur’anic proclamations into propositions. In short, I advance that Ibn ʿArafah’s use of the logic of propositions and his formal reconstruction of the Qur’an’s arguments into syllogisms are both underpinned by a theoretical assumption that the Qur’an is pervaded by logic and that, therefore, the Qur’an cannot but adhere to the doctrines of logic. This paves the way for the heart of the article in which I will then turn to catalogue some of the principal ways in which Ibn ʿArafah deployed logic as an interpretive tool to exegete the Qur’an. I will describe there how Ibn ʿArafah applied logical reasoning as an exegetical tool, and I will attempt to uncover the motives underlying this practice. In the sixth part of the article, special attention will be given to the unique contribution made by Ibn ʿArafah vis-à-vis the Qur’an and logic through comparing his work with previous Qur’an commentaries. Before I close with a few words on the general implications, I make a pass at tracing the reception of Ibn ʿArafah’s logical hermeneutics in the subsequent tafsīr tradition.

Ibn ʿArafah, his students, and the Qur’an

Abū ʿAbd Allāh Muḥammad Ibn ʿArafah al-Warġammī was born in Tunis during the reign of the Ḥafṣid Dynasty. At the beginning of his career, his education centred on Qur’anic variant readings, theology (he read some of Faḫr ad-Dīn ar-Rāzī’s texts with his teachers), jurisprudential theory, grammar, and logic (as part of his education, he studied al-Ǧumal fī al-manṭiq of the notable logician Afḍal ad-Dīn al-Ḫūnaǧī [d. 646/1248]). Later in life, he became occupied with Islamic law, concerning which he authored his best-known works, al-Muḫtaṣar fī al-fiqh and al-Ḥudūd—these two works secured his reputation as a leading Mālikī jurist. Apart from fiqh, he was skilled in many fields and wrote on a range of other subjects including a work on logic entitled The Compendium on Logic (al-Muḫtaṣar fī al-manṭiq) and a work on theology under the title of The Theological Compendium (al-Muḫtaṣar al-kalāmī). Dedicating himself completely to knowledge production and teaching, Ibn ʿArafah neither involved himself in politics nor took on administrative duties. He led prayers and delivered sermons in the Zaytūnah Grand Mosque and trained numerous disciples. Ibn ʿArafah had a special interest in the Qur’an—he taught the interpretation of the Qur’an for at least half a century in a manner that captivated his students. He completed more than one cycle of interpreting the whole of the Qur’an. This repetition allowed him to refine his exegetical system, as is evident from the notes of his students. However, Ibn ʿArafah did not, it seems, pen a commentary on the Qur’an; rather, his commentary was collated by his students as lecture notes. Ibn ʿArafah is said to have lived all his life—with the exception of the ḥaǧg expedition—in Tunis, where he died on 24 Ǧumādā II 803/9 February 1401.Footnote ¹³ What adds to the significance of Ibn ʿArafah’s ‘Qur’an-related’ biography is that his web of connections extends to the pinnacle of the qurrāʾ, Ibn al-Ǧazarī (d. 833/1429), whom he met twice: once in Egypt, and once in the Holy Mosque in Mecca during the ḥaǧǧ season. Ibn al-Ǧazarī held him in high esteem, saying that he did not meet any maġribī better than Ibn ʿArafah (wa-lam ara maġribiyyan afḍala minhu).Footnote ¹⁴

In this study, I examine Ibn ʿArafah’s Qur’an commentary as transcribed, and reworked, by two of his most notable students: Muḥammad b. Ḫalafah b. ʿUmar at-Tūnisī al-Waštānī, known as al-Ubbī (d. 827/1423),Footnote ¹⁵ and Abū al-ʿAbbās Aḥmad b. Muḥammad b. Aḥmad al-Basīlī (d. 830/1426),Footnote ¹⁶ who also penned a commentary on al-Ǧumal fī al-manṭiq of al-Ḫūnaǧī. Numerous manuscripts of these compilations and transcriptions are extant. They have been edited into several editions and academic dissertations, varying in terms of the scope covered. For this study, I will be consulting three independent works of these two students, in a total of four editions. The first is the compilation of al-Ubbī as edited by Ḥasan al-Mannāʿī et al., covering the greater majority of the chapters of the Qur’an.Footnote ¹⁷ I will allocate to this work the shorthand ‘U’. I will also be utilising two of al-Basīlī’s works. The first is at-Taqyīd al-kabīr, in two editions. One is edited by ʿAbd Allāh b. Muṭlaq aṭ-Ṭuwālah and covers chapters 1–3 (al-Fātiḥah, al-Baqarah, and Āl ʿImrān). It is abbreviated in the present study as ‘B1a’.Footnote ¹⁸ The other is the edition of al-ʿĀliyah Šaʿrāwī, covering chapter 7 (al-Aʿrāf). It is referred to in this study as ‘B1b’.Footnote ¹⁹ The second work of al-Basīlī to be used here is Nukat wa-tanbīhāt fī tafsīr al-Qurʾān al-maǧīd, edited by Muḥammad aṭ-Ṭabarānī and spanning most of the Qur’an (chapters 1–61). I will not be incorporating the appended takmilah (completion) of Ibn Ġāzī al-Miknāsī (d. 919/1513) that he collected from al-Basīlī’s at-Taqyīd al-kabīr.Footnote ²⁰ To this third source—that is, al-Basīlī’s Nukat wa-tanbīhāt fī tafsīr al-Qurʾān al-maǧīd—I will assign the siglum ‘B2ʹ.

To streamline the reading of the article, I will provide the references to these works—U, B1a, B1b, and B2—as in-text citations with the volume, page, and line numbers. Additionally, I will offer the number of the text as it appears in the appendix of this article (on which see below).Footnote ²¹ All other works will be cited in footnotes. A further point to add is that al-Ubbī and his colleague al-Basīlī—upon whom we are relying to retrieve Ibn ʿArafah’s tafsīr—do not only include what Ibn ʿArafah said; they also add their own comments. Unfortunately, what Ibn ʿArafah says is not always discernible from the expansions of al-Ubbī and al-Basīlī. For this reason, I will only attribute the discussion to Ibn ʿArafah when our two authors say that explicitly, such as when they introduce the exegesis with the formula, ‘Our teacher Ibn ʿArafah said’ (qāla šayḫunā bnu ʿArafah). Otherwise, I will use the term ‘author’ when the situation is ambivalent, in which case it might be Ibn ʿArafah or the student.

The article contains an appendix that lists the Arabic texts of Ibn ʿArafah/Ibn ʿArafah’s students which have been analysed throughout the article. As my discussions might not always provide the complete passages, the inventory is meant to furnish the fuller versions in order to give readers a dossier on how logic is incorporated into tafsīr and, importantly, to enable them to cross-check my translations and interpretations against the original texts with which I worked. I hope this will be useful, especially in cases in which the passages are not quite straightforward.

The Qur’an as the theoretical foundation for logic

Ibn ʿArafah’s use of the Qur’an as a source for logical theory is the theme that is addressed in this part of the article. I examine the use of the Qur’an as a proof text to legitimise logic through endowing it with scriptural authority—as if Ibn ʿArafah is asking: what is the Qur’anic warrant for a particular logical principle? Analysis of this theme, which can be designated as the meta-logical aspect of Ibn ʿArafah’s logical programme, is the first step in coming to terms with Ibn ʿArafah’s conceptualisation of the Qur’an–logic dialectic.

Ibn ʿArafah’s (or, his students’) interest in laying the scriptural foundations of logic is exemplified by a brief comment made on Q. 25:50: ‘We have indeed turned it (ṣarrafnāh) about amongst them, so that they may remember; yet most people refuse all but unbelief.’ The comment runs: ‘It indicates that a syllogism is constituted of at least two premises’ (yadullu ʿalā anna aqalla l-qiyāsi muqaddimatān) (B2, ii, p. 340, lines 1–2) [Text 1]. The brief hermeneutic move performed here by the author is as follows. The verse is quoted first, though partially. The effect of segmenting the verse into micro units allows the author to consider the part he is interested in on its own. Then, he briefly lays the basic principle of logic for which the verse is a proof text. But how are we to understand the mechanism through which the verse can be regarded as pointing to this principle? While B2 provides no further clarification, U expands on this point:

I should like to restate the explanation as follows. The third-person masculine singular pronoun attached to ṣarrafnāh refers to the rainwater mentioned in Q. 25:48,Footnote ²² but what really matters here is the verb that signifies variation and diversification.Footnote ²³ The idea that the object of the verb is diversified in order for people ‘to remember’ (li-yaḏḏakkarū) is now used in reference to logic. Put differently, just as the conclusion (li-yaḏḏakkarū) requires more than one type of rainwater (bi-tanawwuʿihī wa-taʿaddudi aqsāmih), a syllogism requires a minimum of two premises.Footnote ²⁴ It is the motif of multiplicity that allows the author to welcome this verse into the realm of logic—with some hermeneutical licence, he is treating it as the proof text for a logical notion.

As a second example, let us examine the comments on Q. 55:41, part of which reads: ‘The sinners shall be known by their mark’ (yuʿrafu l-muǧrimūna bi-sīmāhum). The verse forms part of a pericope concerning the hereafter and the subsequent fate of both the sinners and the God-fearing. The author does not comment on the plain sense of the verse. Rather, he asserts that ‘two additional meanings’ (fāʾidatān) can be taken from this short phrase. The first concerns legal testimony and the other relates to the area of epistemology within the domain of scientific inquiry. As my primary interest lies with logic, I shall concentrate on the latter and forgo what he has to say about the former.

Although he launches into the discussion without any introduction, the author is clearly speaking about the differentiating phrases within the topic of conceptions (taṣawwurāt). In particular, he takes the verse to be alluding to what is known in conceptions as conceptualising through the ‘incomplete description’ (ar-rasm an-nāqiṣ)—and the reader is expected to have this in mind. He writes: ‘The primary benefit [i.e. of the verse unit] is to establish “recognition by the property”, and this is what is correct in the science of logic, according to them [i.e. the logicians]’ (wa-ammā l-fāʾidatu l-aṣliyyatu fa-ifādatu t-taʿrīfi bi-l-ḫāṣṣati wa-huwa ṣ-ṣaḥīḥu fī ʿilmi l-manṭiqi ʿindahum) (B2, iii, p. 574, lines 1–2) [Text 3]. By this brief comment, the author intends to say that the ‘incomplete description’ can be constituted of the property alone—that is, even if it was lacking the remote genus. This is in line with what Ibn ʿArafah writes in his Compendium on Logic, namely, that the incomplete description is that which is constituted of the property alone, or of both; the property and the remote genus (wa-nāqiṣun in kāna bihā faqaṭ aw bihā wa-bi-l-baʿīd).Footnote ²⁵ But, as witnessed in the passage that I presented a moment ago, the author does not explicitly mention how the verse implies what he is saying. I suggest that its indication concerning the ‘incomplete description’—as opposed to the ‘complete description’, which is not the concern of the author’s present discussion—is as follows: although the sinners are identified by unique accidental properties alone (for sīmāhum apparently signifies unique accidental properties), the verse says that they are ‘known’ (yuʿrafu). In other words, these properties may function as definitions (more accurately, as ‘incomplete descriptions’) in and of themselves—that is, even without the addition of the remote genus. Viewed in this light, the verse provides the basis for the logicians who consider the ‘incomplete description’ as valid solely by virtue of properties.Footnote ²⁶ In claiming the Qur’anic warrant for this opinion, logic is presented as enshrined in the Qur’an.

Another interesting example in which logic, for Ibn ʿArafah, needs to be anchored in the Qur’an can be seen in relation to the topic of contradiction. This case will also serve to highlight how much Ibn ʿArafah was drawing on those who preceded him. The verse in question, Q. 6:91, reads in full:

Ibn ʿArafah’s comment, as we shall see, refers to Rāzī, so I will have to examine what Rāzī says before turning to Ibn ʿArafah. To confront the claim, as reproduced in the verse, that ‘God sent nothing down to any human’, as well as to resolve some problems concerning the addressees of the verse, Rāzī launches into a lengthy exposition, after which he says that the verse contains a number of rules (fī hāḏihi l-āyati aḥkām). It is here that he draws on logic as well as jurisprudential theory (uṣūl al-fiqh). The first rule (al-ḥukmu l-awwal), Rāzī says, is that a negated indefinite signifies generality (anna n-nakirata fī mawḍiʿi n-nafyi tufīdu l-ʿumūm). The proof for this, he continues, is as follows: if that were not the case, then the segment qul man anzala l-kitāba llaḏī ǧāʾa bihī mūsā would not annul the claim that reads mā anzala Llāhu ʿalā bašarin min šayʾ. And, if God’s response does not annul that claim, then the Qur’anic proclamation in this verse would be devoid of meaning—and this is impossible for Rāzī. The second rule, which is tied to the first, holds that contradiction impugns the validity of speech (an-naqḍu yaqdaḥu fī ṣiḥḥati l-kalām). Again, this is based on the understanding that qul man anzala l-kitāba llaḏī ǧāʾa bihī mūsā annuls mā anzala Llāhu ʿalā bašarin min šayʾ. Otherwise, the verse would be meaningless.Footnote ²⁷ We notice here that Rāzī states, if indirectly, that the verse provides the proof for these two notions. Additionally, it deserves to be mentioned that these issues are frequently discussed in the field of uṣūl al-fiqh. Yet, the idea of contradiction is also central to logic. I will return to this below. Moving on, the third rule involves the reductio as well as the second-figure syllogistic. I quote Rāzī in full:

Let us now turn to Ibn ʿArafah. He offers a short gloss: ‘It has been attributed to al-Faḫr b. al-Ḫaṭīb that this verse is proof that the universal negative [proposition] is contradicted by the particular affirmative [proposition]’ (ḥukiya ʿan-i l-Faḫri bni l-Ḫaṭībi anna hāḏihi l-āyata dalīlun ʿalā anna s-sālibata l-kulliyyata tunāqiḍuhā l-mūǧabatu l-ǧuzʾiyyah) (U, ii, p. 676, lines 3–4) [Text 4]. In another set of lecture notes, the matter is formulated as follows: ‘The reconstruction of this response against them (taqdīru hāḏā r-raddi ʿalayhim) is that the universal negative [proposition] is contradicted by the particular affirmative [proposition]; see al-Faḫr’ (B2, ii, p. 198, lines 2–3) [Text 5].

Here, Ibn ʿArafah is not very concerned with Rāzī’s third rule—that is, his reading of the verse in relation to the reductio as well as the second-figure syllogistic. Rather, his short comment is mainly a reworking of Rāzī’s first two points mentioned above, which concern contradiction. He says that it has been reported (ḥukiya) that Rāzī considered this verse to be the basis for the logical law that the contradictory of a universal negative is a particular affirmative—note the word dalīl. Judging on the basis of his tafsīr, however, it is safe to conclude that Rāzī does not say this explicitly. This terminology is missing from his discussion. It seems to me, therefore, that this has been reconstructed from Rāzī’s simple assertion that qul man anzala l-kitāba llaḏī ǧāʾa bihī mūsā contradicts mā anzala Llāhu ʿalā bašarin min šayʾ. His first two rules were formalised into logical vocabulary. In my opinion, then, this assertion has been forced upon Rāzī. But, even if this is a misreading of Rāzī, the key insight articulated in this discussion, I take it, is that Ibn ʿArafah accepted that this is potentially true of Rāzī—this is how he understood him. In other words, Ibn ʿArafah entertained the possibility that the verse constitutes proof (dalīl) for a logical principle concerning the contradiction of propositions—namely, that the contradictory of a universal negative is a particular affirmative.Footnote ²⁹ I thereby interpret Ibn ʿArafah’s statement to be an expression of his eagerness to involve the Qur’an in the justification of logic.

It will be noticed that, in the former passages, the Qur’an is treated as expressing the rationale for the logical principles in question—as if logic derives its authority through its obedience to the order established by the Qur’an. A comparison with other works of tafsīr on the same verses clearly demonstrates that this hermeneutical endeavour is without precedent.Footnote ³⁰ The novelty, therefore, is to be found in the author’s ability to excavate the Qur’anic foundations of logic. Having established that, according to Ibn ʿArafah, the Qur’an views logic with favour, the ensuing section seeks to demonstrate that Ibn ʿArafah goes one step further in viewing logic as part and parcel of the Qur’an.

Logic as inherent in the Qur’an

In this section, I proceed to make the case that Ibn ʿArafah conceived of logic as part and parcel of the Qur’anic text. Although Ibn ʿArafah does not say this explicitly, I am inclined to think that he implies it. The chief evidence that I employ in this argument is the fact that Ibn ʿArafah, probably inspired by al-Ġazālī, frequently turns to the syllogistic in formalising the Qur’anic modes of argumentation. By the same token, he appeals to the logic of propositions in his interpretations. This, I believe, is an implicit admission that logic is indeed embedded in the Qur’an. More precisely, it appears to me that Ibn ʿArafah exploits the syllogistic and the logic of propositions not merely for schematic and representational purposes, but also because he was convinced that some Qur’anic verses are underpinned by a logical format. I hope this will become clear from the following passages. It will be observed that, in this section, as in what follows, I shall concentrate on the two logical topics that matter the most for Ibn ʿArafah in his Qur’an commentary—syllogisms and propositions.

Following the Avicennian tradition, syllogisms are conventionally divided into two main types: connective (iqtirānī) and repetitive (istiṯnāʾī).Footnote ³¹ In what follows, I will consider examples from the connective syllogistic; the repetitive syllogistic will be reserved for other sections of the article. As a first illustration to show us how Ibn ʿArafah is keen to point out the manner through which the connective syllogistic may feature in the Qur’an, I take up Q. 4:82: ‘What, do they not ponder the Qur’an? If it had been from other than God, surely they would have found in it much inconsistency.’ The author aims to show that the statement wa-law kāna min ʿindi ġayri Llāh indicates that the source of the Qur’an lies with God. This is accomplished by the following line of reasoning. He starts off by noting that it is an enthymeme (hāḏā min qiyāsi ḍ-ḍamīr)—that is, a syllogism that consists of two premises, one of which is suppressed. This brief statement is crucial for our purposes because Ibn ʿArafah overtly says that the Qur’anic phrase belongs to a logical topic, as if the verse is designed to fit into that argumentation scheme. Put differently, it seems that Ibn ʿArafah considered his task to be merely the unveiling of the already-existing system of logic. He then offers a first-figure syllogism (although he does not remark that this inference is a first-figure) that can be presented as follows:

The author says that the minor premise is generated from the verse wa-law kāna min ʿindi ġayri Llāh and that the major premise owes to the fact that there is no third option (wa-bayānu l-kubrā bi-annahū lā ṯāliṯ) (B2, ii, p. 177, lines 1–5) [Text 6].

Another good illustration that displays how the author is convinced that the Qur’an is structured along a logical framework is found in his commentary on Q. 6:148, ‘The idolaters will say, “Had God willed, we would not have been idolaters”’ (law šāʾa Llāhu mā ašraknā). Here, again, the Qur’an only triggers the syllogistic by providing the basis of the propositions for which Ibn ʿArafah provides the fully articulated argument. Ibn ʿArafah wants to characterise the present verse as a categorical connective syllogistic in the first-figure:

The author opens with the observation that the statement includes a suppressed premise and then formalises the verse in the form of a first-figure:

After constructing the idolaters’ statement as a syllogism, he proceeds to explain how it can be refuted from both Muʿtazilī and Ašʿarī perspectives. For the former, he invokes az-Zamaḫšarī, claiming that he (az-Zamaḫšarī) rejected the minor premise. In fact, az-Zamaḫšarī does not mention any syllogism in his commentary, nor does he explicitly say anything concerning the premise. Nonetheless, his line of argument is clear that the idolaters’ denial (takḏīb) lies in the fact that they claimed that God willed their idolatry.Footnote ³² Furthermore, this interpretation of the denial (takḏīb) is in keeping with Muʿtazilī theology, which cannot accept that God wills what is bad. The case is different for the Ašāʿirah—Ahl as-Sunnah, according to our author—as they see no harm in God’s willing what is evil. Therefore, their refutation strategy is to say that the denial (takḏīb) concerns the major premise. It follows that it is the premise that has to be rejected. The author then attempts to support the Ašʿarī approach by saying that the canonical reading is in Form II, kaḏḏaba (I am not convinced, however, that this is strong evidence for the Ašāʿirah, as I think that even the doubled form of the verb can be levelled against the minor premise). In conclusion, both schools want to dispel the syllogism; they just do that differently. I can now present the refutation as follows. The premise ‘Our idolatry is God’s will’ is rejected by the Muʿtazilah, and the premise ‘Everything God wills is not prohibited’ is rejected by the Ašāʿirah. Thus, the combination is not productive of a conclusion via either strategy.

We also encounter the first-figure categorical connective syllogistic in the author’s treatment of Q. 7:12: ‘He said, “What prevented you to bow yourself, when I commanded you?” He said, “I am better than he; You created me of fire, and him You created of clay”.’ The author surmises that Iblīs’s response to God is composed of two premises, with one of them omitted because it is implied in the phrase (li-dalālati l-kalāmi ʿalayhā). He then presents what can be reconstructed as follows:

The author explains that the rationale for the first premise, derived from the literal wording of the verse, was furnished by Iblīs himself when he said: ‘You created me of fire, and him You created of clay.’ The second premise, on the other hand, is based on the ‘determination of good and bad’ doctrine (fa-buniya ʿalā qāʿidati t-taḥsīni wa-t-taqbīḥ). Having established Iblīs’s implied syllogism, the author feels the need to refute it. This aim is achieved by simply denying the minor premise, because otherwise (that is, if the minor premise was a reasonable argument) the angels would have refused to bow to Adam by invoking a similar ‘substrate argument’—namely, that they are superior to Adam because they were created from light. They did not employ it, however, because it is a weak argument. It follows that Iblīs is not justified in invoking it (B1b, p. 193, lines 9–12) [Text 8].

Another topic that exemplifies Ibn ʿArafah’s concerted effort to show that logic is intrinsic to the Qur’an is the topic of propositions. The categorical propositions will feature further down in the article; for the current section, I will deploy cases from the hypothetical propositions. The Arabic logical tradition recognises two such types: connective hypothetical propositions (muttaṣilāt) and disjunctive hypothetical propositions (munfaṣilāt).Footnote ³³ Both find expression in a series of comments on various verses in Ibn ʿArafah’s exegesis. In what follows, use will be made of the connective hypothetical propositions. The disjunctive hypothetical propositions will become relevant later on in the article. Ibn ʿArafah’s commitment to the idea that the Qur’an is couched in a logical framework can be honed by examining his treatment of a phrase in Q. 9:66: ‘We may forgive some of you, but We will punish others: they are evildoers’ (in naʿfu ʿan ṭāʾifatin minkum nuʿaḏḏib ṭāʾifatan bi-annahum kānū muǧrimīn). At issue is how to understand the relation of following between the two parts (the antecedent and the consequent) of the conditional hypothetical proposition—how is punishing one group contingent upon forgiving another group? Although the problem is, in different form, already present in az-Zamaḫšarī,Footnote ³⁴ Ibn ʿArafah introduces a discussion that is absent in previous exegetical treatments of this verse (at least those I have read). For him, this short sentence compresses within itself a number of weighty logical stipulations—in particular, the inferential relations among hypothetical propositions; namely, the immediate implications:

In the passage before us, the subject under discussion is the co-implication of molecular propositions. Ibn ʿArafah’s opening comment shows that his loyalty to logic is so strong that he is troubled by the fact that the verse does not seem to cohere with logical theory—he cannot but assume that the Qur’an adheres to logic. He begins by setting out the relevant logical stipulations that he copies from al-Ḫūnaǧī’s al-Ǧumal, as we learn from another version of his lecture notes: ‘Al-Ḫūnaǧī said so in al-Ǧumal’ (hākaḏā ḏakara l-Ḫūnaǧiyyu fī l-Ǧumal) (U, iii, p. 291, lines 5–17; p. 292, lines 1–2) [Text 10].Footnote ³⁵ Armed with this theory, Ibn ʿArafah goes on to explain that the verse, understood to be a connective hypothetical proposition, does not comply with the stipulation that requires it to imply a hypothetical disjunctive anti-joining proposition—on the contrary, it converts to, ‘Either a group of you will be forgiven, or a group will not be punished’, which is a disjunction in which the disjuncts can both be true. Next, he records the counter-response—namely, that the implication in the verse can be seen as coincidental. Nonetheless, he does not seem to be convinced and therefore resorts to az-Zamaḫšarī, although he provides a modified version of az-Zamaḫšarī’s interpretation.Footnote ³⁶

This same theory is invoked by Ibn ʿArafah in his commentary on Q. 47:7: ‘You who believe! If you help God, He will help you and make you stand firm’ (in tanṣurū Llāha yanṣurkum wa-yuṯabbit aqdāmakum). Ibn ʿArafah comments:

The issue noticed by Ibn ʿArafah (which I have not seen anyone put forward before he did) is that, although the verse says that if the believers help God, then He will help them, reality shows that there have been instances in which the believers helped God, as it were, but were defeated. Ibn ʿArafah applies the theory on the implications of hypotheticals and finds that the verse does not preserve the stipulation that requires an anti-joining proposition. He replies by providing two arguments in order to save the anti-joining proposition: that the victory in the verse pertains to the hereafter or that it means that God will help them at least once, but not necessarily always. While I think that the first response fixes the problem in that it upholds the anti-joining proposition, I am not persuaded that the second argument provides a tight solution.

To summarise, I have outlined in this section how Ibn ʿArafah conceived of the Qur’an as grounded in logic. From the cases analysed, it is possible to infer that Ibn ʿArafah was not necessarily imposing logic on the Qur’an, but rather bringing to the fore the embedded logical system. As such, he cannot but assume that the Qur’an adheres to the laws of logic. Thus, if the Qur’an is consistent with logic and replete with logical insights, as Ibn ʿArafah implies, then the natural development of this conviction is that the Qur’an can be elucidated with the aid of logic. The interpretation of the Qur’an with the logical toolkit is therefore the theme of the following section. There is, of course, a considerable degree of intersection between the present section and the following one, but my emphasis in each is different and the separation of them will enable me to sharpen my focus. To reiterate, while this section advanced that logic for Ibn ʿArafah is intrinsic to the Qur’an, the following section posits that he also considered logic to be an external tool for interpreting the Qur’an—the former is introspective whereas the latter is somewhat outward-looking.

Logic as an exegetical tool for interpreting the Qur’an

In his tafsīr, Ibn ʿArafah is first and foremost an exegete who is genuinely engaged in understanding the Qur’an, solving its interpretive cruces, and elucidating its messages. To accomplish this, Ibn ʿArafah draws upon a wide range of exegetical resources, one of which is logic. For him, the correct understanding of the Qur’an is arrived at by recognising logic and so he uses various aspects of logic to elucidate the Qur’an. While, in the preceding section, I showed how Ibn ʿArafah makes a concerted effort to present the Qur’an as grounded in logic, the present section examines closely the types of exegesis in which Ibn ʿArafah used logic as a hermeneutical tool. This can be termed as logical exegesis.Footnote ³⁷ For clarity purposes, the material is arranged into thematic sections, although they are closely interwoven.

Ibn ʿArafah’s original contribution to the logical exegesis of the Qur’an

As we have already seen, Ibn ʿArafah’s application of logic to the Qur’an has deep roots in the works of his forebears. We have also noted that—granted Ibn ʿArafah’s interpretations were shaped in part by those who have preceded him—his commentary includes new formulations that are based on logic. This section attempts to put this theme concerning Ibn ʿArafah’s innovative exegesis into sharper relief. It will be demonstrated that Ibn ʿArafah deploys logic to affirm already-existing interpretations. In other words, he reaches the same exegetical conclusion but through a different route—namely, logic. In the process, we will observe how Ibn ʿArafah develops unprecedented exegetical arguments through his use of logic. Naturally, then, the significance of Ibn ʿArafah’s contribution can be fully appreciated only in relation to the tafsīr tradition.

I begin with a passage that brings out Ibn ʿArafah’s implied working hypothesis that logic can be used as a way of accommodating different exegetical opinions. This example, from Q. 33:50, revolves around the subject term of a categorical proposition. The verse opens with: ‘O Prophet, We have made lawful for you the wives whose bride gift you have paid’ (yā-ayyuhā n-nabiyyu innā aḥlalnā laka azwāǧak). The Arabic, which is literally ‘your wives’ (azwāǧak), can be interpreted to mean either the wives he had already married (those currently in the wedlock) or any woman whose bride gift he will pay.Footnote ⁶⁵ According to Ibn ʿĀšūr, the second-person singular attached pronoun in azwāǧak supports the first opinion.Footnote ⁶⁶ Our author’s approach is distinct in that he records this disagreement and then proceeds to expound the verse by making use of the distinction between an actuality proposition and a verity proposition. He says that, according to the first interpretation—which refers to the Prophet’s current matrimonial status—the verse is an actuality proposition; on the second interpretation—indicating any woman, including anyone the Prophet may wish to marry in the future—it is a verity proposition. He also aligns the former with Avicenna’s (d. 428/1037) view that the truth of the title of the subject indicates the subject’s essence (the substrate) in actu (bi-l-fiʿl) and the latter with al-Fārābī’s (d. 339/950) opinion that it can do so even through receptivity (bi-l-qābiliyyah) (B2, ii, p. 422, lines 9–11; p. 423, lines 1–3) [Text 30].Footnote ⁶⁷ The upshot is that both positions can be understood from the standpoint of logic. In other words, Ibn ʿArafah alludes here that logic is able to support a polyvalent hermeneutic that accommodates more than one reading of the Qur’an.

I now move on to illustrate the author’s contribution by appealing to the quality of propositions—a topic that features prominently in the author’s discussions. One instance is located in the commentary on Q. 52:7–9: ‘Your Lord’s punishment is coming—it cannot be put off––on the Day when the sky sways back and forth’ (inna ʿaḏāba Rabbika la‑wāqiʿun mā lahū min dāfiʿin yawma tamūru s‑samāʾu mawrā). The issue discussed concerns the operator (ʿāmil) of the adverb of time yawma in Q. 52:9, yawma tamūru s-samāʾu mawrā—that is, the word governing the adverb. Before Ibn ʿArafah, grammarians and exegetes gave two possibilities—that the operator is either the participle wāqiʿ in Q. 52:7 or dāfiʿ in Q. 52:8.Footnote ⁶⁸ Makkī b. Abī Ṭālib (d. 437/1045) rejected the latter, providing a brief (and unconvincing) grammatical argument.Footnote ⁶⁹ Our author, aware of this discussion, sets to make the case as to why the operator should be wāqiʿ. His approach is unprecedented in that he employs logic: ‘The proper answer (waǧhuh) is that the negative proposition does not require the existence of the subject’ (anna l-qaḍiyyata s-sālibata lā taqtaḍī wuǧūda l-mawḍūʿ) (B2, iii, p. 568, lines 3–10) [Text 31]. What he wants to say is that dāfiʿ cannot be the operator because it is part of a negative categorical proposition, mā lahū min dāfiʿ, and negative propositions do not require the existence of a subject. The implication of this negative proposition is that God’s punishment may or may not occur. But, because the author believes that God’s punishment will certainly occur, the operator should be wāqiʿ, which is subsumed within an affirmative categorical proposition, inna ʿaḏāba Rabbika la-wāqiʿ—and logical theory legislates that affirmative propositions require the existence of a subject.Footnote ⁷⁰ Although our author’s interpretation affirms an existing position, its contribution resides in the fact that it is logically derived. It also shows how he coalesces logic with grammar.

A further case—this time belonging to the connective hypothetical propositions—is found at the outset of Q. 2:186: ‘And if My servants ask you about Me, I am near’ (wa-iḏā saʾalaka ʿibādī ʿannī fa-innī qarīb). One issue that attracted the attention of exegetes concerns the apodosis of the hypothetical proposition. Abū Ḥayyān, for instance, does not take the apodosis to be the apparent fa-innī qarīb; rather, he supplies it in the form of a masculine singular imperative: fa-ʿlam annī qarīb, ‘know that I am near’. He explains his move by asserting that nearness does not follow from the protasis—that is, ‘asking about God’ (li-annahū lā yatarattabu ʿalā š-šarṭi l-qurb).Footnote ⁷¹ Aware of Abū Ḥayyān’s intervention, and apparently accepting the supplied verb, Ibn ʿArafah attempts to strengthen this line of reasoning by adding: ‘because matters which are already existent cannot be made contingent upon the condition (li-anna l-umūra l-wāqiʿata l-mawǧūdata lā yaṣiḥḥu tartībuhā ʿalā š-šarṭ), except according to what the logicians said concerning the chance conditional proposition (al-qaḍiyyah al-ittifāqiyyah), like “whenever the human speaks, the donkey brays”, which does not yield anything (wa-hiya lā tufīdu šayʾā)’ (U, i, p. 508, lines 5–8) [Text 32]. Again, this interpretation supports an existing position by grounding it in logic.

Our author’s modification of, and development upon, the tafsīr tradition also gains expression in a case that involves the second-figure syllogism. This is located in the comments on Q. 6:142: ‘eat of what God has provided you’ (kulū mimmā razaqakum-u Llāh). The author says that Rāzī used this verse as a proof text for the Muʿtazilah to the effect that sustenance is exclusively what is permitted (anna r-rizqa ḫāṣṣun bi-l-ḥalāl). He then goes on to say:

Two points deserve our attention in this passage. The first is that the author was elicited to insert this logical interpretation because of his reading of Rāzī—so let us have a look at this background first. In his commentary on this passage, Rāzī writes: ‘The Muʿtazilah said: “He, The Exalted, commanded the consumption of sustenance and did not permit consuming what is prohibited. It follows that sustenance is [that which is] not prohibited”’ (yantuǧu anna r-rizqa laysa bi-ḥarām).Footnote ⁷² Rāzī clearly alludes to the syllogistic nature of the argument, but does not identify the syllogistic figure, nor does he explicitly present its formal reconstruction. This task is taken up by our author, who develops on Rāzī. Second, by listing the major premise first, our author diverges from the Arabic logical tradition in which the minor premise is usually given first. The argument can be reproduced as follows:

While Rāzī does not offer any counterargument against the Muʿtazilah, our author proceeds to discard the Muʿtazilī conclusion by saying that the minor premise is defective. This is argued by positing that the minor premise is not universal, given that the verse—the source of the proposition—contains a partitive preposition, min in mimmā. Now, I believe this to be a mistake (probably by Ibn ʿArafah’s students when assembling his lecture notes or, even more likely, by the manuscript copyist), as I think it should say that the problem is with the major premise, and not the minor premise. Therefore, the Arabic should be amended to bi-manʿi kulliyyati l-kubrā, instead of bi-manʿi kulliyyati ṣ-ṣuġrā. In this way, the author’s objection will work, as it will mean that one of the conditions for productivity in this figure—namely, the universality of the major premise (not the minor premise)—is wanting.Footnote ⁷³ This will enable him to refute the Muʿtazilah by claiming the sterility of their syllogism. My interpretation is confirmed al-Ālūsī. Perhaps directly influenced by Rāzī and/or Ibn ʿArafah, al-Ālūsī advances that the Muʿtazilah constructed a logical figure from this verse. He structures it as follows:

Importantly for my purposes, al-Ālūsī clears the problem that I pointed out by making it clear that it is the major premise that is being undermined because it is lacking the universal quantifier. This is so given that the verse—the underlying basis of the major premise—is partitive or, to say the least, lacks any indication to the effect that all types of sustenance are subsumed under it.Footnote ⁷⁴ Based on this, it would not be amiss to say that Ibn ʿArafah’s (or Ibn ʿArafah’s students’) criticism was levelled at the major premise, even if the textual evidence in our hands suggests otherwise. In any case, the larger point here is to observe how Ibn ʿArafah developed upon the tafsīr tradition’s use of logic for interpreting the Qur’an.

Let me now summarise. In his incorporation of logic into Qur’anic exegesis, Ibn ʿArafah was in a continuous relationship with the scholars who preceded him—the use of logic in interpreting the Qur’an was established before Ibn ʿArafah came along. In this light, one can safely advance that Ibn ʿArafah was not revolutionary in his employment of logic in the service of tafsīr, but was rather building upon a solid tradition that both cited the Qur’an in logic works and made reference to logic in Qur’an commentaries. Yet, my argument in this section has been that—if, of course, one sets aside the tafsīr works that have not been edited hitherto—Ibn ʿArafah’s contribution resides in the fact that he expanded the application of logic to the Qur’an in a way that was not known in previous works of tafsīr. With Ibn ʿArafah, logic took a wider reach with respect to its role in interpreting the Qur’an. In other words, I make a clear distinction between the conceptual introduction of logic to Qur’anic hermeneutics—which can be attributed to al-Ġazālī—and the widening of the scope of application of logic to Qur’anic hermeneutics, which I believe took on a new turn with Ibn ʿArafah. Whether or not he influenced the subsequent tafsīr tradition is the question that I will address in the next section.

After Ibn ʿArafah

When set against the preceding centuries of Qur’an commentary, Ibn ʿArafah’s application of logic can be seen as original—without denying that Ibn ʿArafah developed his logical commentary in direct conversation with other scholars. In my opinion, that is all clear. What I want to do now is to turn to a rudimentary exploration of Ibn ʿArafah’s impact on the tafsīr tradition—particularly his logic-based interpretations. This will be attempted by examining two commentators: al-Ālūsī and Ibn ʿĀšūr. I hope that an assessment of how these two authors interacted with Ibn ʿArafah will allow us to characterise, if tentatively, the nature of the influence exercised by Ibn ʿArafah on subsequent commentators. Before I examine them, let it be noted that I focus my attention on these two commentators because they are, I think, major contributors to the tradition.Footnote ⁷⁵ I limit myself to them for two other reasons. While the majority of the tafsīr tradition after Ibn ʿArafah (those I have read to date) tended to ignore his work in general, and his logical hermeneutics in particular (at least they do not explicitly show that they are drawing on him), these two authors engaged with Ibn ʿArafah, even if the extent of their treatment of Ibn ʿArafah’s hermeneutics varies significantly. Second, and once again in contrast to the attitude of the overwhelming tafsīr tradition, these two authors clearly appreciated the role of logic in Qur’anic interpretation.

Al-Ālūsī does not refer much to Ibn ʿArafah; in fact, he rarely relies on him. It seems, however, that he was familiar with Ibn ʿArafah’s work on the Qur’an. In saying this, I am basing myself, among other things, on a comment on Q. 33:56 in which al-Ālūsī quotes Ibn ʿArafah and his (Ibn ʿArafah’s) teacher Ibn ʿAbd as-Salām.Footnote ⁷⁶ The same issue on which they are being quoted is found in Ibn ʿArafah’s tafsīr (U, iv, p. 730, lines, 13–14) [Text 34], though it seems—if we can trust the extant version of Ibn ʿArafah’s tafsīr—that al-Ālūsī misinterpreted him. For the present discussion, al-Ālūsī’s accuracy in quoting Ibn ʿArafah is less important than the case I am trying to establish: that al-Ālūsī was indeed familiar with Ibn ʿArafah’s work. This leads me to consider two instances in which I think al-Ālūsī was interacting, if remotely, with Ibn ʿArafah and carefully reworking his logical hermeneutics.

The first illustration occurs in Q. 8:23: ‘If God had known of any good in them, He would have made them hear; and if He had made them hear, they would have turned away, swerving aside’ (wa-law ʿalima Llāhu fīhim ḫayran la-asmaʿahum wa-law asmaʿahum la-tawallaw wa-hum muʿriḍūn). The basic problem in the verse, which has invited much comment in the tafsīr literature, appears to be the following: in the final analysis, the two segments of the construction imply that if God had known of any good in them, then they would have turned away—and this cannot be accepted. Rāzī does not state the problem explicitly. Yet, he provides a solution, which is later picked up in the tradition—namely, to qualify the second hypothetical proposition with the words: ‘after He had known that there is no good in them’ (wa-law asmaʿahum baʿda an ʿalima annahū lā ḫayra fīhim).Footnote ⁷⁷ It is with Abū Ḥayyān that we find an explicit formulation of the problem in a manner similar to what I have presented (fa-antaǧa annahū kāna yaqaʿu tawallīhim ʿalā taqdīri ʿilmihī Taʿālā ḫayran fīhim).Footnote ⁷⁸ Turning to Ibn ʿArafah’s work, it seems that al-Ubbī declares that the verse contains a connective syllogistic (wa-huwa fī l-āyati qiyāsu l-iqtirān) and goes on to lay the stipulation that, if the major premise is universal, then the syllogism is productive; otherwise, it is sterile. This theory is then applied to the verse, where it is asserted that, because the verse opens with the particle ‘if’ (law), it is indefinite. And, because the indefinite takes the status of a particular (li-anna l-muhmala fī quwwati l-ǧuzʾiyyah), the major is not universal. The upshot is that this syllogistic is not productive (fa-lā yuntiǧ) and therefore the false conclusion—‘if God had known of any good in them, they would have turned away’—does not hold. Al-Ubbī then adds that Ibn ʿArafah provided two responses. The first is that the first ismāʿ (lit., the act of causing one to hear) is qualitatively different from the second one—essentially, he wants to argue by saying that the middle term is not the same. Second, he asserts that the condition of productivity for the second-figure is that the major premise be universal, implying that it is not satisfied here (U, iii, p. 222, line 4; p. 223, lines 1–14) [Text 35]. The latter point is true (indeed, a productive second-figure requires a universal major), but we are dealing here with a first-figure syllogism. I would have thus expected him to say that this is a condition for the first-figure. Perhaps this was an error in collating the lecture notes.

In his commentary on this passage, al-Ālūsī first provides his preferred interpretation. He then proceeds to note how it responds to the problem—namely, that the verse contains a hypothetical connective syllogistic that is composed of two hypothetical propositions as premises, resulting in a false conclusion. An analysis of his detailed treatment is not my primary concern, but I will underscore two aspects of his comments. The first is the following statement: ‘Some of them mentioned, in the response, that both hypotheticals are indefinite (anna š-šarṭiyyatayni muhmalatān) and that the major [premise] in the first-figure has to be universal.’ My tentative hypothesis here is that al-Ālūsī would have possibly known that this argument was used by Ibn ʿArafah/Ibn ʿArafah’s students (and note how he correctly understands it as a first-figure).Footnote ⁷⁹ Second, al-Ālūsī adds another dimension to the discussion, and this is an important point on which he differs from Ibn ʿArafah. He records this objection: the passage cannot be a connective syllogism because the particle law is not used in high-register Arabic in connective syllogisms, but rather in repetitive syllogisms (li-anna lafẓa law lam yustaʿmal fī faṣīḥi l-kalāmi fī l-qiyāsi l-iqtirāniyyi wa-inna-mā yustaʿmalu fī l-qiyāsi l-istiṯnāʾī). A further objection is also adduced. It runs as follows: how can it be possible for the Qur’an to contain a sterile syllogism, even if God did not intend it as a syllogism (wa-kayfa yaṣiḥḥu ʿtiqādu wuqūʿi qiyāsin fī kalāmi l-Ḥakīmi Taʿālā uhmilat fīhi šarāʾiṭu l-intāǧi wa-in lam yakun murāduhū Taʿālā qiyāsiyyatah)? The point here is that the Qur’an can only contain productive syllogisms—the sterile syllogistic has no place in the Qur’an. In a way, this approach expects the Qur’an to adhere to a much stricter logical formality. Al-Ālūsī then provides further views on the matter, one of which states that the two sentences are independent; the second hypothetical proposition marks a fresh sentence (annahū kalāmun munqaṭiʿun ʿammā qablah).Footnote ⁸⁰ All this highlights that, although al-Ālūsī might have engaged with Ibn ʿArafah’s logical hermeneutic, he does not solely depend on him for his logic-based exegesis; his wide reading allows him to take from multiple other sources.Footnote ⁸¹ And he sometimes dispenses with Ibn ʿArafah’s account.

Al-Ālūsī’s criticism of the logical opinions found in Ibn ʿArafah’s work is particularly clear in his treatment of Q. 9:66: ‘If We forgive one party of you, We shall punish another party’ (in naʿfu ʿan ṭāʾifatin minkum nuʿaḏḏib ṭāʾifah). As we have seen above, when I presented Ibn ʿArafah’s interpretation of this verse, it is a disputed question in the tafsīr tradition as to how one should understand the relation of following between the component sentences (the antecedent and the consequent). Al-Ālūsī comments as follows:

It is hard to say with confidence that al-Ālūsī had Ibn ʿArafah in mind when he was writing this. Nonetheless, the fact that both the problem and the response are found in their works makes this a possibility, if weak. Based on this assumption, I would like to highlight the differences in their respective treatments. We note, first of all, that al-Ālūsī mentions ʿIzz ad-Dīn ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz b. ʿAbd as-Salām (d. 660/1262) as the source of the interpretive query. He also refers to the discussion of the prolific Šāfiʿī jurist Ibn Ḥaǧar al-Haytamī (d. 974/1567).Footnote ⁸³ The second way in which al-Ālūsī differs from Ibn ʿArafah is that while Ibn ʿArafah records the opinion which holds that the proposition is coincidental (though he then prefers az-Zamaḫšarī’s view), al-Ālūsī fulminates against it—the formula ‘there is no power or strength except with God’ is frequently used to express dismay. In other words, Ibn ʿArafah is much less critical of that opinion than is al-Ālūsī. Third, al-Ālūsī supports the view that the apodosis is omitted—and this is not mentioned by Ibn ʿArafah.

I now jump ahead nearly 100 years to Ibn ʿĀšūr and his commentary, at-Taḥrīr wa-t-tanwīr. Ibn ʿĀšūr was fond of Ibn ʿArafah, as is evident from the fact that he frequently quoted him by name in at-Taḥrīr wa-t-tanwīr. This is not surprising given the geographical and spiritual connection between both scholars—Ibn ʿArafah was Ibn ʿĀšūr’s distant predecessor in az-Zaytūnah Grand Mosque wherein both held some form of rectorate. Concerning logic, there are instances in which Ibn ʿĀšūr does not indorse the logical interpretations espoused by Ibn ʿArafah. This is witnessed, to give one example, in Ibn ʿĀšūr’s comments on Q. 8:23, in which he takes a different route.Footnote ⁸⁴ Ibn ʿĀšūr, moreover, does not necessarily follow Ibn ʿArafah in his application of logic to specific verses: there are multiple instances in which Ibn ʿĀšūr will ignore Ibn ʿArafah’s logical discussions on a particular verse. This is the case, for example, in Ibn ʿĀšūr’s treatment of Q. 9:66.Footnote ⁸⁵ My provisional assessment is that Ibn ʿArafah may have influenced Ibn ʿĀšūr in the general orientation of applying logic to Qur’anic interpretation—but not in the application of logic to specific cases.

Following this brief account of the reception of Ibn ʿArafah in the subsequent tradition, we may now speculate as to what it was that led to this state of affairs—namely, the limited influence of his logic-based interpretations on the tafsīr scholarship. One explanation is to understand this as some form of opposition to logic in tafsīr literature, as part of the general resistance to logic in some Sunnī circles.Footnote ⁸⁶ Another possible hypothesis is to suggest that what led to the neglect of Ibn ʿArafah’s hermeneutical programme is that he did not pen a proper tafsīr. His work on tafsīr, as noted above, reached us as lecture notes that were compiled by his students. The different versions of the notes and the occasional disparity between the notes on the same verses may have led to difficulties in ascertaining what Ibn ʿArafah actually said. If he had written a formal tafsīr, then the situation could have been different.