The Sack of the Al-Andalus Madinat

 The ruined city of Madinat al-Zahra[1] (940-1013) is worth visiting notably for what one doesn’t see.  Alike the antic city of Troy, Madinat’s ruins were lost for centuries and, at least for the time being, its legend is more impressive than its ruins.  A decade of slow restoration has kept Madinat’s most imposing and inspiring areas off limits, leaving many visitors frustrated.  Although a UNESCO World Heritage site since 2018, the city remains off the main Andalusia tourism circuit.  A blessing, actually.   

The walled city-palace is located a stone throw away from the city of Cordoba.  Cordoba was the center of power and, the de facto the capital of Al-Andalus, the Muslim-run area of the Iberian Peninsula.  Madinat was the vanity project of the formidable Umayyad emir Abd al-Rahman III, who had recently appointed himself the first Caliph of Al-Andalus.  In order to get away from the hassle-bustle of Cordoba, Abd al Rahman III established Madinat as his dazzling political capital.  One can regard Madinat al-Zahra as the precursor of other artificially created capitals like Washington, Canberra and Brasilia, although a very ephemeral version.  The construction started in 940, and seventy years later in 1010, the city suffered its first looting during a civil war.

The visit starts in the museum where salvaged artifacts are displayed; in addition, the auditorium shows a short introductory film on the life in the city reenacting the political routine of the caliph.  The site is up in the hills and not visible from the plain.  On the other hand, visitors are astounded by the sight of a massive building: the 15^th century San Jerónimo Monastery, which as a matter of fact was built using the stones plundered from the Madinat.   The site proper is reached by a short bus ride from the main entrance.  Upon arrival, one enjoys a panoramic view of the city.  Although not fully excavated, the city-palace is vast: 112 hectares (276.75 acres), it is about four times the size of the Ile de la Cité in Paris, the island in the river Seine.  It was built on three levels, or terraces, each with a different function.

Like in Troy, guided tours are suggested to compensate for the plainness and bareness of the ruins.  Currently, only half of the archeological site can be visited.  The most fascinating parts of the Madinat are not open to the public: restoration work is carried out at a snail’s pace.  The renovation of the Salón rico, the “rich all” started ten years ago and this architectural gem is still under wraps! Abd al-Rahman III built it for ceremonial functions and to impress his guests.  The caliph’s gardens and the pool in the palace complex are also off limits to visitors.  Our Spanish-speaking guide was well trained and made up for the “hidden” exhibits and the tour was informative and lively. 

It is worth pointing out that what is left standing (and presently open to visitors) is nonetheless an outstanding complex.  One can easily fathom the beauty and magnificence of the Madinat before falling on hard times.  We walked through army barracks, stables, administrative buildings, basilica buildings, baths, mosque and private houses, many still richly decorated.  The Madinat was indeed a self-contained town.  The caliph was fussy about building material, he had a soft spot for Roman capitals and columns made of marble.  Many came from torn down Roman and Visigoth buildings in the Sevilla and Cordoba region (e.g., the Cordoba mosque-cathedral counts over 1000 columns, all reused from older buildings); falling short, Abd al-Rahman III had Roman columns shipped from as far as Tunisia! The pragmatic Al-Andalus architects were keen Spolia columns users! It is remarkable to note that a Roman column has a life of its own.  Reused Ad vitam!

Abd al-Rahman III (891-965) ruled as first and last Caliph of Cordoba.  He reigned for 50 years over a very unruly Al-Andalus.  Under his rule, Al-Andalus occupied nine tenths of the Iberian Peninsula.  Contrary to the film’s rosy portrait, most of his life was spent on horse-back battling rebellious Berber clans and encroaching Christians.  Since their flight from Damas to the Iberian Peninsula in 756, the Umayyad emirs had cavorted with local ladies, many of their concubines were Christian, principally noble Visigoths.  Predictably, Abd al-Rahman III looked more Visigoth than Arab, he may have had less than 1% Arab blood! He had blue eyes and blond hair.  Reportedly, to look the part, he died his hair black.  

In spite of the bellicose environment, the Umayyad period represents the golden age of Al-Andalus, a mythical time of tolerance, learning and cultural magnificence.  Cordoba was certainly the most brilliant center in the Western world.  The death of Abd al-Rahman III and the appointment of his young and hapless son, left the Umayyad Caliphate in internal turmoil.  Palace intrigues and struggles had allowed the rise of a low-born but power-hungry chamberlain named Almanzor (938-1002).   More warlord than bureaucrat, he quickly became the de facto ruler of the Caliphate.  In order to start his own dynasty, he locked the new caliph and his mother in the Madinat and ruled with an iron fist.  Almanzor developed the economy, expanded the army by recruiting Berber mercenaries, built his own city-palace complex but sowed the seeds of the demise of the centralized and powerful Cordoba Caliphate.  It was also the kiss of death for Madinat Al-Zahra.  Ironically, the site of Almanzor’s city has never been discovered!  

After Almanzor’s death, the ensuing succession quarrels led to a full-fledge civil war, and consequently, the demise of the Caliphate of Cordoba in 1031.  Al-Andalus imploded into a series of small and weak kingdoms, the Taifas, which, to make matters worse, fought each other.  They became easy pickings for the Catholic kings in a full Reconquista mode.  Almanzor had supported the rude and very religious Berber tribes against the more sophisticated and tolerant Umayyad.  With the aim of preserving Al-Andalus from the Christian incursions, a succession of Berber dynasties came from North Africa, but they could not reverse the territorial losses.  The Arabs had crossed the strait of Gibraltar in 711 and in 1492, the last Nasrid Sultan of Granada, Boabdil gave the Catholic kings the keys of his harem and went into exile.

During the long civil war, Madinat al-Zahra was repeatedly ransacked and finally abandoned in 1013.  It became a stone quarry until it was “rediscovered” in 1911.  The founding and annihilation of the Madinat may be a metaphor for Al-Andalus’ downfall, brought about by unbounded vanity and super-ego.  The Iberian Peninsula might still be Arab if its successive rulers had been more accommodating with one another and less power hungry.

 

 

 

 

 

---

[1] Alternative spelling: Medina Azahara.