Using The Wolf King to Teach Medieval History: The Reconquista, Historiography, and Material Culture

Abigail Krasner Balbale’s The Wolf King: Ibn Mardanīsh and the Construction of Power in al-Andalus provides us with a fascinating case study to assist in that deconstruction, as it underscores the complexities of religious identity, political relationships, and historical memory in medieval Iberian history. In this erudite, nuanced, and accessible work, Balbale provides a master class in historical methodology, analysis, and historiography that should serve as an example for all historians on how to approach a topic for which direct primary sources are sparing and later historiography is rife with misconceptions and deliberate reconstructions. Balbale presents us with a plethora of material with which to challenge the concept of the “Reconquista,” not only its popular misperceptions but also its problematic use in supporting “the idea of a pure, white European Middle Ages that is now being weaponized by racist extremists, while simultaneously indicat[ing] the inadequacy of visions of medieval coexistence that ignore religious motivations.” Challenging such assumptions is crucial for those teaching medieval history today as we work to underscore the diverse nature of medieval society to our students and ensure that religious motivations for Muslims, Christians, and Jews in this period are presented in a nuanced fashion. Balbale’s book explores the life and historical memory of Muhammad ibn Sa’d ibn Ahmad Ibn Mardanīsh who ruled eastern al-Andalus in the twelfth century. As Balbale notes, Ibn Mardanīsh does not fit into the traditional frameworks of this period which tend to characterize it either by the conflict between Almoravid and Almohad dynasties in al-Andalus or through the concept of the Reconquista. In contrast, the author demonstrates that Ibn Mardanīsh constructed his power as tied to Andalusi, Almoravid, and Abbasid conceptions while negotiating alliances with various Christian rulers and resisting Almohad attempts at conquest. As Balbale argues, “Ibn Mardanīsh’s story illuminates not only the dynamism of politics and culture in the medieval Western Mediterranean but also how its complexity has been flattened to serve more modern ideologies.” For those of us who teach courses on medieval Iberia, presenting that dynamism to our students in a way that is digestible but also represents its complexities is often challenging, especially for the period of Ibn Mardanīsh’s life — the twelfth century. It is easy to fall into the trap of emphasizing the conquests of the Almoravids and then Almohads, presenting them as “fundamentalists” (especially the Almohads) while also downplaying the resistance of rulers like Ibn Mardanīsh to offer a graspable representation of the political and religious frameworks in Iberia at this time. However, we are doing a disservice to our students when we gloss over this dynamism, which can serve as a good example of the nuances and complications that lie beneath diplomacy and politics during a period often characterized in textbooks as marked by religious fervour as demonstrated by crusading and ideas of holy war. While there are many aspects of this book that help us unpack the significance of this period for our students, I would like to emphasize two in this review: the use of material culture and architecture as sources and the analysis of how Ibn Mardanīsh has been reconstructed historiographically. As Balbale notes, Ibn Mardanīsh’s reign was fairly short (1147–1172) and very little documentation survives from it. To counter this dearth of direct evidence, Balbale turns to outside sources — largely Almohad chancery documents and chronicles — alongside buildings, objects, and coins. Here I would like to focus on the latter, which Balbale explores in chapter 4, “Material Genealogies and the Construction of Power,” and chapter 5, “Vassals, Traders, and Kings: Economic and Political Networks in the …