The streets of al-Andalus (first part) – Al-Andalus y la Historia

With their absence of wheeled traffic, the narrow and winding streets of Muslim cities have many things in their favor: they provide shade, reduce wind, allow for a greater density of habitation and make a large city accessible to pedestrians; they facilitate social relations, and they are easily defended

Maribel Fierro and Luis Molina
CCHS-CSIC and EEA-CSIC

The roads within the cities

The urban planning of al-Andalus experienced both the direct impact of Islam on the Late Ancient and Christian world and its reversal with the Christian conquest. Many Andalusi cities underwent profound modifications after the Christian conquest (for example, the widening of streets and the removal of walkways), making it very difficult to reconstruct their previous topography, especially if it has not been possible to excavate in the best conditions.

The urban planning of cities in the Islamic Mediterranean area was not only affected by the beliefs and culture of the new religion, but also by the complex process of urban evolution of the Ancient world. In contrast with those who see a certain continuity between that Late-Antique world and the first Islamic centuries, Manuel Acién considers that the Andalusi cities that were historically configured between the 9th and 11th centuries have nothing to do with their predecessors, even though they are in the same physical space, and that in fact all of them can be considered as newly founded, because the Islamic city dictates the disappearance of the Ancient city, and this seems to be confirmed by the archaeological record. Naturally, Acién does not deny the survival of physical facts ―such as the remains of buildings, layouts, roads or parcels of land― and not just physical ones, since key elements of the city such as bishops also survived under Muslim rule. But all of them would eventually disappear, just like the Ancient city itself. It is, therefore, possible to recognise or recreate those parcels and roads of the Ancient city that have been preserved (as in the case of Mérida), but this does not imply that their functions were the same.

Apart from re-using pre-existing cities, Muslims founded new cities for military, administrative, or socio-economic purposes or as the material expression of the rulers’ power. As they were not conditioned by prior urban planning, these cities ―such as Murcia, Úbeda, Badajoz and Palma de Mallorca, as well as the palatine cities (Madīnat al-zahrā’ and Madīnat al-zāhira), borderland cities (Talavera de la Reina, Medinaceli, Madrid) and port cities (Almería, Tarifa)― are especially relevant to a better understanding of the relationship between Islam and the city. In general, the intervention of the rulers in urban planning was limited to the configuration of a layout that included main streets, mosques, walls and the citadel, where power resided. Sometimes, planning of the sanitation network has also been detected. In Cercadilla (Córdoba), extensive suburbs have been excavated, uncovering a large number of houses that are aligned in straight and wide streets, oriented from north to south, to facilitate the evacuation of wastewater that was discharged into them by the houses’ sewers.

View of the archaeological site of the San Esteban *arrabal* in Murcia. Wikipedia commons.

When political power did not intervene directly in the organization of space, it was the neighbors who played the role of ordering agent, either through mediation and arbitration at the neighborhood or street level, or through recourse to Islamic law (fiqh) that fostered reaching agreements and did not penalize the invasion of public space, as long as it did not cause serious harm to the common good or harm was not inflicted to another person. Public space was considered the property of the community and its use was determined by custom as well as the balance between the inconvenience caused to users and the loss of benefit to neighbors. We can reconstruct these realities thanks to Islamic legal texts, of special interest being the legal opinions or fatwas that arise fundamentally on the occasion of litigation caused by the appropriation of public or private space into streets or walkways, and by sanitation problems in relation to the evacuation of rainwater or fecal water or lack of cleaning, among other reasons.

An extensive administrative machinery with municipal institutions comparable to those that developed in the Christian West from the 11th century onwards did not develop in Islamic cities. There was an administrative framework that went from the political authority or its representatives to legal offices such as that of the qadi or judge, the ṣāḥib al-madīna or zalmedina, the market inspector or ṣāḥib al-sūq, also called muḥtasib (in charge of public morality and in general of what makes life together possible). There was ample room for the initiative of the city’s inhabitants acting ―individually or as a group― for the common good, in the creation and maintenance of which they took part, especially at the neighborhood level. The neighborhood was generally structured around its mosque, a space for community sociability and a meeting place where issues that affected the neighbors were discussed. Relations between neighbors, arising from the density of the urban fabric, are governed by tacit rules that tend to minimize harm and to maintain respect within common life, this being what allows the city to function. When the rules are not respected and there is a breakdown in neighborhood consensus, the muḥtasib and even the qadi intervene to restore urban order and ensure the proper functioning of the system. The most frequent cases in which conflicts occurred were those related to the invasion of privacy in public space. Before looking at some of these cases, it is necessary to deal with the alleged ‘urban disorder’ of the Islamic world.

The alleged ‘urban disorder’ of the Islamic world

In the literature on the Islamic city, there is an insistence on an alleged ‘urban disorder’ that saw its expression in the labyrinthic layout of its streets and on the influence of Islam on that disorder as well as on its immutability.

For Bulliet, however, the narrow streets, the invasion of buildings on public roads, and in general the labyrinthic aspect of Islamic cities ―all features often compared unfavorably with to the Roman city with its rectilinear plan― must be attributed not so much to Islamic law or to the absence of municipal institutions, but to the fact that they were part of societies without wheeled traffic. Bulliet highlights that narrow and winding streets have many things in their favor: they follow the layout of the land, provide shade in hot countries, reduce the wind, and allow a greater density of habitation which in turn makes a large city accessible to pedestrians, facilitate social relations and are easily defendable.

Bulliet explains that if there is wheeled traffic, the streets must be flat, without steps or long slopes and, if possible, they must be paved. Furthermore, they must be kept in such a state that circulation is not interrupted. They have to be of adequate width so that, ideally, two vehicles can pass at the same time; corners cannot be too sharp or narrow for maneuvers; dead ends should be avoided. That buildings or merchants with their goods occupy public roads must be avoided at all costs. And we must take into account that the vehicles are noisy and dangerous (remember the accident involving Ibn Waḍḍāḥ’s son mentioned in The roads of al-Andalus).

As vehicles disappeared, cities in the Middle East and North Africa gradually developed street types and layouts that better suited human needs. Once only pedestrians and pack animals had to be provided for, the street could be transformed into an open market or a dead end that gave access only to those residing in the houses located there. Given the absence of an ideological sanction regarding constant widths and right-angle turns, with little legislation ―Bulliet continues― viable streets could be maintained. But this does not mean that there was an ideological sanction for the disorder, since ―as Acién has highlighted― in the newly founded cities there was specific planning despite the fact that, since there was no road transport, the need for that planning was scarce. Equally, the arrival of Islam did not destroy the previous streets of cities such as Antioch and Herat in which long right-angled streets dating back to pre-Islamic times are still preserved. But Islam ―which had emerged in a region where the wheel was not used― prospered in the Late Ancient world, in which the use of the wheel was in decline and which therefore did not incorporate an ideological position favorable to vehicular traffic. The evolution from a geometric design to an organic one took place naturally in these societies. When Islam spread through Yemen, Indonesia or India, where transportation was done differently, other city plants are found.

The streets and Islamic law

If we follow Bulliet in emphasising the factor of the disappearance of road traffic, then Islamic law would have done nothing other than adapt to that context rather than determine it. The predominant view, however, is that it was Islamic law that determined the street layout of the Islamic city. For Robert Brunschvig, author of a foundational study on the relationship between law and urban planning in Islam published in 1947, not only is the city governed by Islamic law, but this law marks its evolution. An evolution closely linked to the right of finā’, that is, the right that the owner or inhabitant of a house has to the use of a space around it both in width and height (it is a right of usufruct, since these spaces ―the afniya― belong to Muslims as a whole, as is also the case with the property of pious endowments or ḥubus). The fināʾ (or ḥarīm) is approximately 1-1.5 meters wide and goes around all the exterior walls of a building and also extends vertically along those walls.

According to the Granadan jurist ʽAbd al-Malik ibn Ḥabīb (d. 853), the owners of the houses have the use (intifā’) of their afniya in three circumstances: to hold meetings (majālis), to use them as stables in which to leave their riding and pack animals, and to install benches. Street vendors can also use them, but the fināʾ cannot be occupied by a construction or surrounded by anything enclosing it.

According to the second orthodox caliph ʽUmar, the owner can dispose of the finā’ of his house, which for some means that he can appropriate it, for example, for construction, the extent of which will depend on the width of the facade of each neighbor. But the founder of the Maliki school ―Mālik ibn Anas (d. 795)― was alleged to have said that he did not like such constructions being made, although he did not prohibit them. One of his disciples did, saying that any construction on a public road is prohibited even if the street is as wide as the desert. Subsequently, the idea prevailed that constructions can be carried out as long as enough space is left for pedestrians, both those on foot and those on horseback. The owner or tenant of a building has the right to use the fināʾ for temporary purposes, as long as it does not impede street traffic. He is further responsible for keeping his part of the fināʾ clean and free from all types of obstructions and the accumulation of water or snow. The vertical fināʾ allows projections outwards from the upper floors in the form of balconies and passageways, justified because what is used is a ‘dead’ space that does not harm the traffic below.

We have seen that a connection is established between what can be done with one’s finā‘ and the inconvenience that such use can cause to third parties. A Qayrawaní jurist from the 11th century expressed it like this: if what is built does not harm anyone it is permitted; if it harms someone, it is prohibited. The jurist al-Māzarī (d. 1141), for his part, followed the maxim of ‘the lesser of two evils’. Behind these positions is the general principle of lā ḍarar wa-lā ḍirār («no harm or damage should be caused»): all harm must be eliminated as long as it does not create a harm greater than the first (ḍirār is disproportionate harm or ill-intentioned use by someone of his rights). The absolute prevalence accorded to the right of use in turn implies that ḥijāza (long-term possession) becomes a right of private property.

We have early evidence of this legal orientation in al-Andalus, specifically, thanks to the treatise on urban constructions and roads composed by the jurist Ibn al-Imām of Tudela (d. 996). Legal issues relating to roads are dealt with above all in the chapters on damages, that is, together with neighborhood problems and damage to the rights of individuals ―trees, beams, rights of way, and various nuisances―. As Brunschvig already pointed out, this means that road issues are seen more as problems of the private sphere than of public law. This close connection of the matter with litigation and judicial rulings is recorded by Ibn Khaldūn (d. 1406) who indicates that the right of passage is one of the causes of conflicts between people that encourages them to initiate proceedings before the judge.

NOTE: This overview ―which is based on the studies cited in the Bibliography, where the references of the examples given are found― was presented in 2017 at the VIII Toletum Workshop Connecting cities? Communication routes in the Iberian Peninsula, University of Hamburg: https://www.toletum-network.com/es/2017/10/toletum-viii-staedte-verbinden-kommunikationswege-auf-der-iberischen-halbinsel/ .

Maribel Fierro and Luis MolinaCCHS-CSIC and EEA-CSIC

The roads within the cities

The alleged ‘urban disorder’ of the Islamic world

The streets and Islamic law

Further reading:

Maribel Fierro and Luis Molina
CCHS-CSIC and EEA-CSIC