ۖ ۚ ۖ ۚ ۚ ۚ ۚ ۚ
And they followed what the devils recited during Solomon’s reign. Solomon did not reject truth; rather, the devils rejected truth, teaching people magic and what had been sent down to the two angels in Babylon, Harut and Marut. Those two taught no one without saying: We are only a trial, so do not reject truth. Then people learned from them what they used to separate a person from their spouse; and they could harm no one through it except by The God’s permission. They learned what harmed them and did not benefit them. They certainly knew that whoever bought it would have no share in the Hereafter. How evil was that for which they sold themselves, if only they knew.
The preceding verse ended with a stark image: a group of those who had been given scripture cast The God’s Book behind their backs. This verse shows what can take its place when the Book is removed from its position as the criterion:
“And they followed what the devils recited during Solomon’s reign.”
Before anything else, the Qur’an separates Solomon from this activity:
“Solomon did not reject truth; rather, the devils rejected truth.”
In ancient traditions, Solomon’s name had become intertwined with jinn, devils, spells, and extraordinary powers. Yet the Qur’an does not present his power as the product of magic. In other verses, The God Himself subjects the wind and devils to him and describes Solomon, above all, as “an excellent servant.” Extraordinary power is not, in itself, either magic or rejection of truth.
A more important distinction emerges as the sentence continues:
“Teaching people magic and what had been sent down to the two angels in Babylon, Harut and Marut.”
The subject of the Arabic verb yuʿallimūna, “they teach,” is the devils. They taught people magic and what had been sent down to Harut and Marut. The sentence joins “magic” and “what was sent down to the two angels” with “and.” This construction does not by itself prove that the two were entirely unrelated, but neither does the Qur’an explicitly say that what was sent down to Harut and Marut was itself magic.
This distinction matters because Harut and Marut also teach, but their manner of teaching is described as follows:
“Those two taught no one without first saying: We are only a trial, so do not reject truth.”
The Arabic command fa-lā takfur, “so do not reject truth,” addresses one person and agrees with “anyone” (min aḥad): each individual who came to learn received a warning addressed to them. The singular form therefore does not establish that Solomon must have been the addressee. What the text shows more clearly is the individual warning given before instruction.
The Arabic word fitnah means a trial or test in this verse; it should not be equated here with turmoil, corruption, or disorder. The root F T N is also used in Arabic for testing metal in fire: gold or silver is subjected to heat so that impurities are separated and its true purity becomes apparent. The image in the verse fits this meaning. Harut and Marut do not describe themselves as evil; they say, “We are a trial.” Access to powerful knowledge can, like fire, reveal the true character of the person receiving it. Possessing power does not yet show what a person will do with it.
The contrast between two kinds of teaching becomes significant here. The devils are introduced in the context of rejection of truth and magic, and they also passed on to people what had been sent down to Harut and Marut. Harut and Marut taught as well, but they did not hand over knowledge without an ethical warning: “Do not reject truth.”
The verse does not explicitly say that the devils mixed Harut and Marut’s knowledge with magic or removed their warning. Yet the difference between the two ways of transmitting knowledge cannot be overlooked. This structure raises the possibility that the problem was not the revealed knowledge itself. The problem may have been separating knowledge from its ethical limits and using it for rejection of truth, magic, and harm.
The distinction becomes clearer in what follows:
“Then they learned from those two what they used to separate a person from their spouse.”
The Qur’an does not say, “They learned magic from those two in order to separate husbands and wives.” It says that they learned something from them that they used to separate a person from their spouse. This is no small distinction. Knowledge gives capability; human beings choose how to use it.
In the ancient world, spells intended to attract love, change desire, and even separate couples were indeed known. We therefore need not assume from the outset that this sentence is metaphorical. But the Qur’an does not explain the mechanism; it leaves responsibility for the use of what was learned with human beings.
Even this power is not independent:
“They could harm no one through it except by The God’s permission.”
“Permission” here does not mean approval of evil. The God allows many human acts to occur without morally endorsing them. The verse concerns the independence of power: no magician, devil, angel, human being, or unknown force possesses a realm separate from The God’s sovereignty. Every effect occurs within the world He created. No force can bypass Him and establish independent power outside His dominion.
The Qur’an then returns the burden of responsibility to human beings:
“And they learned what harmed them and did not benefit them.”
The issue in this verse is therefore not fear of knowledge. Harut and Marut are themselves teachers. The issue is knowledge that becomes power, and the human being who must decide how to use that power. The same knowledge, in the hands of two different people, can produce two entirely different outcomes. The greater the capability, the greater the trial.
For this reason, the Qur’an does not treat magic, rejection of truth, and associating partners with The God as three names for the same thing. The word “magic” appears directly in the clause concerning the devils, and rejection of truth is attributed to them as well. Harut and Marut teach, but warn against rejecting truth. Possessing unfamiliar knowledge or extraordinary capability is therefore not, in itself, rejection of truth. What determines the matter is a person’s relationship with truth and how they use what has been entrusted to them.
The bitterness of the verse’s ending lies in this very awareness:
“They certainly knew.”
Yet a few words later:
“If only they knew.”
On the surface, this is a contradiction; in human experience, it is not. Knowing a truth is not the same as having knowledge that transforms conduct. We may know the outcome of an action, recognize its danger, and even warn others about it, yet at the moment of choice behave as though we had never known anything.
This is the same failing that the preceding verse portrayed through “as though they do not know”: the Book is there, knowledge is there, and the warning is there as well. But when desire and power enter the picture, what is known can be cast behind one’s back.
A detailed examination of Harut and Marut, the Watchers, Babylon, Solomon, and later traditions appears in the separate article Harut and Marut. For this verse itself, the conclusion is clearer than all those stories:
Knowledge does not, by itself, make a person righteous. Power is a trial; our true character is revealed when the choice of how to use that power is placed in our own hands.