Ishoyahb.
Our take
Right, let's dive into this. Ishoyahb Bar Malkōn. The name itself feels like a linguistic fossil, doesn't it? This little post, unearthed after months languishing in a digital inbox, speaks to a wonderfully niche corner of scholarship – the history of Syriac grammar – and reveals a figure who, despite being preserved in numerous manuscripts, remains something of an outlier. It's the kind of thing that makes you want to trace the etymological roots of "outlier" itself, doesn’t it? – How does that sense of being *outside*, of being distinct, translate across languages and time? This discovery resonates with our own pursuit of the unexpected, the overlooked, the razor-clam lurking just beneath the surface of established narratives. We've recently explored similar themes in our piece [The Encyclopedia of Women Philosophers: A New Web Site Presents the Contributions of Women Philosophers, from Ancient to Modern], which highlights the often-submerged contributions of women to intellectual history, and the work of K. R. Callaway on [Bilingual Brain Scans], showing how language itself reshapes the very structure of our minds. It’s all part of the same pattern – a recognition that what we think we know is always, always provisional.
The fascination with Ishoyahb isn’t simply about a forgotten grammarian. It’s about the *way* he deviated from the established Syriac linguistic tradition. His grammatical works, apparently extant in a surprising number of manuscript copies, suggest a mind wrestling with language in a way that differed from his contemporaries. And that’s compelling. It’s precisely this kind of intellectual eccentricity, this willingness to challenge the prevailing paradigms, that often leads to the most significant breakthroughs. Consider, too, Hsi-Yao Su’s study of [Global Swearword, Local Ideologies], which demonstrates how even seemingly universal expressions are shaped by and imbued with local cultural meanings. Language isn’t a static system; it’s a dynamic, evolving entity, and figures like Ishoyahb, who dared to push its boundaries, offer invaluable insights into its complex history. There’s a certain beauty, isn’t there, in encountering this quiet act of rebellion – a scholar forging his own path within a well-defined intellectual landscape. It’s about recognizing that progress rarely happens within the comfortable confines of consensus.
What makes Ishoyahb’s status as an "odd man out" particularly intriguing is the implicit question it raises: what constituted the *norm* in Syriac grammatical tradition? What were the assumptions, the unwritten rules, that he transgressed? And why did those deviations lead to his marginalization, despite the preservation of his work? It prompts a deeper consideration of how intellectual history is constructed – who gets remembered, who gets forgotten, and what criteria determine their place in the canon. We often celebrate the giants, the revolutionaries who fundamentally altered the course of thought, but there's a quiet dignity in recognizing the contributions of those who simply *did things differently*. It’s about appreciating the subtle variations, the nuanced perspectives, that enrich the tapestry of human knowledge. Think about the painstaking work of reconstructing lost languages, of piecing together fragments of ancient texts – it's a testament to the human drive to understand, to connect with the past, even when the past resists easy categorization.
So, where does this leave us? Ishoyahb Bar Malkōn represents a fascinating microcosm of larger intellectual trends – the importance of challenging assumptions, the complexities of historical memory, and the enduring power of language to shape our understanding of the world. It’s a reminder that there are countless untold stories waiting to be discovered, countless voices yearning to be heard. Perhaps the most pertinent question arising from this discovery isn’t simply *who* was Ishoyahb, but *how many* others like him are quietly awaiting rediscovery, their contributions obscured by the biases and conventions of their time? And what new perspectives will emerge when we finally bring them into the light? Stay spooty, and keep digging.
I just realized I’ve had a link to this post by bulbul sitting around for months, and by gad I’m finally gonna share it!
In the history of native Syriac linguistic tradition [1], Išoʕyahḇ Bar Malkōn (d. early 13th century) is the odd man out. It is not that he is unknown or forgotten: his grammatical works are preserved in a not insignificant number of manuscript copies and his name is listed with other grammarians in overviews of Syriac literature compiled by modern scholars, as well as his contemporaries. Of the latter, the testimony of ʕAbdīšōʕ Bar Brīḵā’s (d. 1318) Catalogue of Books is particularly telling: where Eliya of Ṭirhan (d. 1049) and Yōḥanan Bar Zoʕbī (d. 13th century) are described as having composed grammars or grammatical treatises, of Išoʕyahḇ Bar Malkōn and his grammatical works we only learn the following:
ܡܳܪܝ ܝܶܫܘܽܥܰܝܲܗܒ ܒܰܪ ܡܰܠܟܳܘܢ ܕܰܨܘܒܳܐ ܐܝܺܬ ܠܶܗ ܫ̈ܘܽܐܳܠܐ ܓܪܰܡܡܰܛܝܺܩܳܝܶܐ
“Mār Išoʕyahḇ bar Malkōn of Ṣōḇā [Nisibis]: he has some grammatical questions…”
Whether this refers to a specific genre, is meant to be read generally or anything else, that’s it as far as grammar is concerned. This lack of specificity with regard to Bar Malkōn’s work as a grammarian is also typical for modern sources. When consulting one, the reader typically learns no more than that he authored at least one treatise on points and one grammar (both unedited) [2], and that in his grammatical analysis, he followed the Arabic model [3]. One prominent example is Baumstark who describes Bar Malkōn’s grammar as “sachlich ganz die Methode der arabischen Grammatik befolgend” (“in terms of content, it entirely follows the methodology of Arabic grammar”) [4]. Over time, this simple observation – repeated uncritically – morphed into a judgment and finally into a condemnation: Talmon notes of Išoʕyahḇ bar Malkōn – and his contemporaries (or fellow travelers) like Yōḥannan bar Zoʕbī and Eliya of Ṭirhan – that they “exhibit either a servile attitude to Arabic grammar or poor coverage of grammatical issues.” [5]
Talmon’s “poor coverage” remark is particularly silly. For one, the comparison made here is to Jacob of Edessa’s grammar of Syriac which is notorious for – not to put a too fine point on it – BEING ALMOST ENTIRELY LOST. Secondly, “poor coverage” is a relative term, even this day and age, doubly so in the 13th century. But most importantly, none of Išoʕyahḇ Bar Malkōn’s works have been edited or analyzed in any detail, so there is simply no way for Talmon to know.
In fact, that Talmon’s (and, by extension, that of those whose judgment he relies on) assessment of Bar Malkōn is wholly wrong can be gleaned from even the most cursory of interactions with the latter’s grammatical works. […]
Turning back to the contents of the manuscripts of Kitāb al-ʔīḍāḥ, it is not the case – as Baumstark’s description (which most likely goes back to Scher’s catalogue and which Van Rompay copies in his GEDSH entry on Bar Malkōn) would have it – that Kitāb al-ʔīḍāḥ is originally written in Syriac with a translation in Arabic in two columns (“… das syrische Original in einer Parallelkolumne mit einer arabischen Üb[er]s[etzung] …”) [7]. That is not true of any of the surviving mss Baumstark was aware of, i.e. the two Paris mss and the Berlin one. Rather, the primary language of Kitāb al-ʔīḍāḥ is Arabic, but Syriac is employed throughout, in both examples and definitions of grammatical phenomena. Such Syriac text rarely constitutes a direct translation of any of the Arabic parts. […]
The major way in which Kitāb al-ʔīḍāḥ is undoubtedly a part of the native Syriac linguistic tradition – as opposed to a mindless copy of the Arabic one – is Bar Malkōn’s constant references to the same and his insistence on working within it. The introduction (BnF Syr. 170, ff. 2v-4v) contains a brief overview of the previous work by Syriac grammarians and scholars of language, including Jacob of Edessa (d. 708), Eliya of Ṭirhan and Yawsep̱ Hūzāyā (6th cent.), the purported translator of Technē Grammatikē into Syriac. The text of Kitāb al-ʔīḍāḥ then repeatedly refers to their work (the “among them” in section 5 above and “others” in section 6) and cites them by name regularly. The chapter on parts of speech cited above also contains one very telling example in section 5, i.e. the absence of time as a major criterion for the definition of a noun. This line of reasoning is unique to Syriac linguistic tradition and can be traced to Aristotle, e.g. De Interpretatione. […] The relationship of Bar Malkōn’s analysis to the Arabic linguistic tradition reminds me of the way grammars of modern languages follow the Latin model: there is some, even a lot of inspiration, that may even be slavish now and then – just think of the concept of parts of speech and the terminological fustercluck that are Wolof conjugated pronouns. Latin method, however, is not all there is.
As noted above, Bar Malkōn’s work remains unedited and unpublished – hell, this hastily put-together post might be the most comprehensive study of his work to date. If anyone wishes to change it, for example as an MA thesis (his short treatise on points would be perfect) or even a PhD dissertation, hit me up.
I love this sort of thoughtful deconstruction of an entrenched historical misunderstanding, with the concomitant restoration of a forgotten figure to importance; click through for more, including footnotes and the links I didn’t bother to carry over. I hope someone takes Slavo/bulbul up on his final offer!
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