manipulate not just assent to war, but a demand for it.
He had kept the pot simmering with the display of
Othman’s shirt and Naila’s severed ɹngers on the pulpit
in Damascus, but now he needed to bring it to a boil. In
a move worthy of the most skillful modern spin-meisters,
he would steal Ali’s sense of honor and adapt it to ɹt
himself instead.
He set about a carefully staged campaign to present
himself as loath to take action. He would have to be
forced into it by the outraged conscience of the people. If
he declared war on Ali, he would then merely be obeying
their will, the humble servant of his people and their
demand for justice.
The ɹrst line of attack in this campaign was poetry.
This is certainly a strange idea in the modern West,
where poets are so easily ignored, but in the seventh-
century Middle East, poets were stars. Especially satirical
poets, whose work was endlessly quoted and chanted. It
was written not to be read but to be memorized and
repeated, to make the rounds not of literary salons but of
the streets and the alleys, the marketplace and the
mosque. The more cutting the verses and the sharper the
barbs, the more popular and irresistibly repeatable they
were, and the more renowned their creators.
They were taken with sometimes deadly seriousness.
When one popular poet opposed Muhammad’s ascent to
the leadership of Medina—“Men of Medina, will you be