By 628 C.E. Muhammad’s power was no longer fragile. Medina had become an armed base. Meccan caravans had been repeatedly attacked. Jewish tribes in and around the city had been expelled or exterminated. The victory at Badr, the setback at Uhud, and the trench against the coalition armies had all reshaped Arabia’s political landscape. Yet one reality still burned in Muhammad’s mind: Mecca, with its Kaaba and prestige, remained outside his control.

The Treaty of Hudaybiyyah is often presented by Muslim preachers as a shining example of prophetic wisdom and peace-making. They claim that Muhammad, humble and farsighted, accepted humiliating terms for the sake of peace, only to see Islam flourish afterward as hearts were won by its justice. Modern apologists speak of it as a “model for coexistence.”

The earliest Islamic sources, read honestly, show something very different.

Hudaybiyyah was a calculated maneuver by a man who knew he could not yet take Mecca by direct assault, but who also knew that a formal truce would give him time and freedom to crush other opponents, tighten his grip over Arabia, and prepare for Mecca’s eventual fall. It was not peace for its own sake. It was a breathing space used to sharpen the sword.

During this episode we see Muhammad:

• Marching outwardly as a “pilgrim” while deliberately provoking Meccan reaction.

• Signing a treaty that publicly looked one-sided yet was privately exploited as a setup for conquest.

• Demanding a pledge of blind obedience under the tree (the Oath of Ridwan) to cement his personal authority.

• Allowing Abu Basir and other “escaped” Muslims to wage piracy against Quraysh while maintaining plausible deniability.

• Using marriage—particularly to Juwayriya—to buy the loyalty of entire tribes and convert captives into supporters.

• Using the truce years to attack Khaybar, absorb allies, and move step by step toward total war and the conquest of Mecca.

When measured by Jehovah’s Word, Hudaybiyyah is not the behavior of a true prophet. It is calculated deceit, sanctified by “revelation,” used to advance a war project that has nothing to do with the Gospel of Christ.

Appearing Weak, Planning Conquest

Year six of the Islamic calendar (about 628 C.E.) saw Muhammad take a bold step. He announced that he and his followers would perform the ‘Umra (lesser pilgrimage) to Mecca. They dressed in pilgrim garments, brought sacrificial animals, and set out with around 1,300–1,400 men.

On the surface, this move looked peaceful. The pilgrims went in ihram, without full battle gear, chanting religious phrases, outwardly signaling that they came for worship, not war. Muslims today emphasize that Muhammad did not march with an invasion force at this stage. They say he only wanted to perform pilgrimage and that Mecca’s refusal was unjust.

The reality beneath the surface was more complex.

Muhammad knew very well that the Quraysh would not easily allow a man who had attacked their caravans, killed their chiefs, and allied with their enemies to walk into Mecca with a large column of armed followers. He knew their honor would be challenged if they capitulated without conditions. By setting out in pilgrim garb with a sizeable band, he was putting them in a dilemma: either let him in and concede huge moral ground, or block him and risk being painted as enemies of the House.

In simple terms, he forced the crisis on his own timetable.

When word reached Mecca of his approach, Quraysh sent out cavalry and negotiators to block and probe him. Muhammad deliberately avoided the usual approach and stopped at a place called Hudaybiyyah just outside the sacred precinct. There he set up camp. Various Qurayshi envoys came and went. They saw a man who appeared calm, whose followers showed intense reverence toward him, who presented himself as a simple pilgrim but who had already bloodied them in battle.

From Muhammad’s side, he made sure that every envoy saw his followers’ submission. When one Meccan emissary watched the Muslims scrambling to catch his ablution water and vying for his cast-off hair, he returned impressed. The psychological battle was underway: Muhammad appeared devout and surrounded by fiercely loyal men; Quraysh appeared uncertain and divided.

Yet, for all his outward piety, Muhammad had not forgotten that Mecca remained his objective. The pilgrimage was not an end in itself. It was a step toward controlling the Kaaba and humiliating Quraysh. If he could not take the city by storm yet, he could use negotiations to secure a truce that would free his hands elsewhere.

Jesus Christ once entered Jerusalem on a donkey, openly fulfilling Scripture, knowing He was going to His execution, not to seize the city by force. He did not bargain for a truce to regroup and conquer. Muhammad did the opposite. He staged a religious procession that forced a political negotiation, all with an eye on eventual conquest.

Signing a “Peace Treaty” While Plotting Mecca’s Fall

The negotiations at Hudaybiyyah culminated in a written treaty between Muhammad and Quraysh, represented by Suhayl ibn ‘Amr. The document’s terms, as preserved by early Islamic historians, appear at first glance to favor Mecca:

1. A ten-year truce between the two sides.

2. Muhammad would return to Medina without performing the pilgrimage that year.

3. He and his followers could come the following year for three days only, with limited weapons.

4. Any man from Quraysh who went over to Muhammad without his guardian’s permission must be returned to Mecca.

5. Any man who left Muhammad and went back to Quraysh would not be returned.

6. Tribes were free to ally with either side, and their alliances would be treated as part of each camp.

Even the wording of the document was a humiliation in the eyes of some Muslims. When ‘Ali started to write “This is what Muhammad, the Messenger of Allah, agreed with Suhayl ibn ‘Amr,” Suhayl objected. “If we believed you are the messenger of Allah,” he said, “we would not be fighting you.” He insisted that ‘Ali write only “Muhammad son of ‘Abdullah.” Muhammad agreed, asking ‘Ali to erase “Messenger of Allah.” ‘Ali hesitated; Muhammad reportedly erased it himself.

To many Muslims present, this concession felt like a denial of his own claim. ‘Umar ibn al-Khattab was particularly disturbed. He confronted Muhammad, asking, “Are you not truly the messenger of Allah?” When Muhammad affirmed it, ‘Umar pressed further: “Are we not on the right and our enemies on the wrong?” When the Prophet answered yes, ‘Umar asked, “Why then are we accepting humiliation in our religion?” Muhammad gave evasive answers, telling him he was Allah’s servant and messenger and that Allah would not abandon him.

At the human level, ‘Umar’s instincts were normal. The treaty looked lopsided. Quraysh seemed to dictate terms. Muhammad appeared to compromise on his title, accept delay on the pilgrimage, and agree to send back Meccan runaways. What kind of “victory” was this?

Muhammad, however, understood what the terms allowed him to do.

First, by securing a formal truce, he removed Mecca as an immediate military threat. Quraysh could not legitimately attack him as long as the treaty stood. That freed him to turn his full attention northward to Khaybar, the rich Jewish oasis that still defied him, and to other tribes. The treaty unshackled his war machine.

Second, the clause about tribes choosing sides was crucial. Tribes allied with Muhammad would now be recognized as part of his camp. When, later, an ally of Quraysh attacked an ally of Muhammad, he would use that as the pretext to claim that Quraysh themselves had broken the treaty and that he was therefore free to march on Mecca. From day one, the seeds of Mecca’s fall were embedded in the treaty’s tribal clauses.

Third, the clause requiring him to return Meccan runaways while allowing his own defectors to stay in Mecca looked humiliating but proved to be a tool. It allowed him to signal outwardly that he respected the agreement while inwardly benefiting from “unofficial” fighters who would harass Quraysh anyway, as in the Abu Basir episode.

Fourth, the treaty boosted his stature in Arabia. Quraysh, the guardians of the Kaaba, had signed a formal pact with him as an equal. Other tribes saw a man the great Meccan chiefs had recognized as a power. The very act of writing his name into a treaty gave him legitimacy in Arab eyes.

In Surah 48, revealed in connection with Hudaybiyyah, the Qur’an calls the treaty a “clear victory” even though no city was captured, no idols were smashed, and no spoils were seized. Why? Because Muhammad knew that the pen he used at Hudaybiyyah was sharpening the sword he would later carry into Mecca.

By biblical standards, this is not peace. It is camouflage. Jehovah commands His people to speak truthfully, to let their “yes” be yes and their “no” be no, and to seek genuine peace as far as possible without compromising righteousness. Muhammad treated peace as a temporary pause in warfare, a tactic on the road to domination. Hudaybiyyah was not the end of jihad. It was the quiet middle chapter before the storm.

Oath of Ridwan: Blind Obedience Demanded

One dramatic scene at Hudaybiyyah came before the treaty itself, when rumor spread that ‘Uthman ibn ‘Affan, sent into Mecca as Muhammad’s envoy, had been killed. The Muslims outside the city believed that Quraysh had murdered him. Emotions ran high. Muhammad seized the moment.

Under a tree, he called his followers to pledge themselves to him. This pledge, remembered in Islamic tradition as Bay‘at al-Ridwan (the Oath of Satisfaction), was a solemn promise to stand firm and, if necessary, to fight to the death. Men came forward, placed their hands in Muhammad’s, and swore allegiance. The Qur’an later declared that Allah’s “hand” was over their hands and that those who pledged to Muhammad were really pledging to Allah.

This oath did at least three things.

First, it transformed a political standoff into a spiritual test of loyalty to Muhammad himself. The rumor of ‘Uthman’s death—later shown to be false—gave him an occasion to demand unconditional obedience. Those who stepped forward demonstrated that they would follow him even if it meant facing Mecca’s full force.

Second, it solidified internal control before external negotiations. Once the oath was taken, anyone who hesitated or questioned the later treaty terms could be shamed as weak or disloyal. ‘Umar’s protests did not change the fact that he, too, had pledged under the tree. The bond between Muhammad and his followers had been tightened by a ritual act of allegiance.

Third, it created scriptural backing for personal authority. The Qur’anic verses about Bay‘at al-Ridwan do not simply praise courage. They equate loyalty to Muhammad with loyalty to Allah and frame breaking that pledge as breaking a pact with God. This kind of theology cements a leader’s control. Disagreeing with his decisions becomes, in effect, a spiritual crime.

In biblical Christianity, obedience of this absolute kind is reserved for Christ alone. Human leaders—elders, overseers, teachers—have real authority in the congregation, but it is always derivative and limited. Their commands must be tested by the written Word. The Bereans were commended for examining Paul’s teaching in light of Scripture. No apostle demanded blind allegiance or equated disagreement with apostasy from God.

Muhammad’s oath under the tree, however, moved in the opposite direction. It was not primarily about obeying revealed Scripture; it was about obeying the man who claimed to bring it. Hudaybiyyah shows how he turned a rumor of martyrdom into an opportunity to demand a level of loyalty that belongs only to Jehovah’s true Messiah. The Oath of Ridwan was not a step toward Gospel faithfulness; it was a step toward religious authoritarianism.

Abu Basir and State-Sanctioned Piracy

One of the most revealing episodes following Hudaybiyyah involves a man named Abu Basir.

Shortly after the treaty, Abu Basir escaped from Mecca and fled to Medina, seeking refuge with Muhammad. Under the terms of the agreement, Quraysh sent two agents to demand his return. Muhammad, in front of his followers, kept the letter of the treaty. He told Abu Basir that he had to go back, assuring him that Allah would make a way out for him. Abu Basir was handed over and led away.

On the road, however, Abu Basir killed one of his escorts, seizing his sword and striking him down. The other man fled back to Medina. Abu Basir himself returned as well, blood on his hands, weapon in his grasp. He came to Muhammad and declared that Allah had indeed delivered him. In human terms, this was a fugitive who had just murdered one of Quraysh.

How did the Prophet respond?

Publicly, he again maintained the appearance of honoring the treaty. He told Abu Basir that he could not keep him in Medina; that would violate the pact. But he did not return him to Mecca either. Instead, he effectively hinted that Abu Basir should leave the city and operate on his own. Abu Basir took the hint. He went to the seacoast on the route of Quraysh’s Syrian caravans, near a place later identified with ‘Is or Dhu’l-Marwa.

There, he was joined by other Muslims who had fled Mecca but whom Muhammad, bound by the treaty, would not officially shelter. Together they formed an armed band—religious pirates—preying on Meccan trade. They attacked caravans, killed escorts, and seized goods. Quraysh merchants could no longer travel safely along the northern route. Their economic lifeline was choked by a force that was not technically part of Muhammad’s formal state, yet clearly made up of his followers and acting in line with his larger agenda.

Muhammad’s attitude toward this band was telling. He is reported to have said, when news of their raids reached him, “Woe to his mother, what a kindler of war he is, if only he had some men with him!” Such words are not a condemnation. They are admiration. Abu Basir had become a free agent of jihad.

Eventually, the pressure on Quraysh grew so intense that they sent a message to Muhammad begging him to take these men into Medina and cancel the clause of the treaty requiring runaways to be returned. In other words, the very article that had looked so humiliating at Hudaybiyyah ended up being reversed under Meccan pressure. Muhammad had honored it on paper, allowed “unaffiliated” raiders to torment Quraysh, and forced them back to negotiate from weakness.

This episode is an early example of what later generations would call taqiyya and jihad by proxy. Muhammad publicly kept his word to maintain the appearance of righteousness. At the same time, he quietly benefited from the actions of men who were technically outside his jurisdiction but spiritually and politically loyal to him. When their violence had achieved its goal, he welcomed them back under his protection, now with the treaty clause effectively nullified.

In contrast, Jehovah’s Word insists that His people must not use deceit to evade moral obligations. If a promise is made, it must be kept straightforwardly, not sidestepped through technical loopholes. King David, for example, judged the Gibeonite treaty situation by honoring the oath made in Joshua’s day, even when it had been foolishly granted. Christ Himself condemned manipulative oath formulas and taught His disciples to speak plainly.

Muhammad’s handling of Abu Basir and the raiders shows a different spirit. He exploited the gap between written obligation and practical reality. In doing so, he taught his followers that there is nothing wrong with letting “unofficial” forces do what the treaty supposedly forbids, as long as the state can deny direct responsibility. That mindset continues to shape Islamic strategies to this day.

Marriage to Juwayriya: Buying an Entire Tribe

On the surface, the marriage to Juwayriya bint al-Harith seems to belong earlier, around the campaign against Banu Mustaliq, often dated to 627 C.E. But the pattern it reveals—using marriage to turn defeated foes into allies—fits directly into the Hudaybiyyah period, where free hands and strategic unions prepared the way for Mecca’s fall.

Banu Mustaliq, a branch of Khuza‘a or related tribal network, had been accused of preparing to attack Muhammad. As usual, he preempted. He marched against them, ambushed them at a watering place, killed many men, and took their families and livestock as spoils. Among the captives was Juwayriya, daughter of the tribe’s chief, al-Harith ibn Abi Dirar.

Initially, Juwayriya fell into the share of one of the Muslims as a slave. She went to Muhammad and pleaded for help paying her ransom as part of a contract (mukataba) to free herself. Muhammad offered “something better”: he would pay on her behalf and marry her. She agreed. Overnight, the status of the chief’s daughter changed from slave to “wife of the Prophet.”

When the news spread among the Muslims that Banu Mustaliq now had kinship ties with Muhammad through Juwayriya, many of the companions felt ashamed to keep her relatives as slaves. They said, “How can we hold as captives the in-laws of the Messenger?” In a gesture that made them appear generous, they freed around one hundred families from Banu Mustaliq. Instead of remaining a defeated, embittered tribe with their daughters and sons scattered, Banu Mustaliq suddenly found themselves honored and partially restored—all because their chief’s daughter now shared the Prophet’s bed.

The result was politically brilliant. A hostile tribe that might have taken years to pacify was neutralized by one marriage. The captives were turned into clients. Their gratitude and sense of honor made them less likely to resist Muhammad’s future campaigns. Muslim historians themselves acknowledge that no woman’s marriage brought more benefit to her people than Juwayriya’s.

But when viewed morally and spiritually, the scene is chilling.

Juwayriya had been captured in a raid that killed her people’s men and shattered their society. She had no real choice. Remaining a slave meant a lifetime of servitude and vulnerability, possibly as a concubine. Accepting Muhammad’s offer at least gave her a measure of status and influence. It was not a romance; it was survival.

Muhammad, for his part, saw that by taking her as a wife he could “buy” not just her freedom but the loyalty of an entire tribe. He had already used marriage to cement alliances—Khadija for wealth, Sawda and Aisha for internal support, Hafsa for ties to ‘Umar, others for tribal links. Juwayriya represented another step in that pattern: sex and status as tools of consolidation.

From Jehovah’s vantage point, marriage is a covenant of mutual love and faithfulness between one man and one woman, not a tool of statecraft. The Lord Jesus raised marriage to an even higher standard, rejecting casual divorce and condemning lust. He never treated women as bargaining chips or bridges to their clans. Muhammad did.

Placed alongside Hudaybiyyah, the Juwayriya episode shows the broader strategy. While the treaty held Quraysh at bay, Muhammad moved against other tribes, seized captives, and turned a chieftain’s daughter into a means of buying her people. A truce with Mecca did not mean peace. It meant space to conquer others and weave them into his war machine.

Countdown to Total War

The years immediately after Hudaybiyyah were not years of quiet reflection or peaceful coexistence. They were a countdown.

Freed from direct Meccan pressure, Muhammad marched north and overran Khaybar, the prosperous Jewish oasis that had become a refuge for those expelled from Medina. There he killed resisting men, took women—including Safiyya bint Huyayy—as captives, and extracted wealth and agricultural tribute from survivors. The pattern of Banu Qaynuqa, Banu Nadir, and Banu Qurayza repeated itself on a broader scale.

At the same time, tribes across Arabia watched how the wind was blowing. Some sent delegations to Medina, seeking treaties that would protect them from attack in exchange for recognition of Muhammad’s authority. Others quietly inclined toward him because Quraysh seemed weaker after signing Hudaybiyyah. The “delegation season” that would climax later had its roots in this period. Muhammad’s camp grew year by year, not because he had embraced pacifism, but because he had used the treaty to remove one front while pressing hard on others.

The tribal clause of Hudaybiyyah eventually supplied the immediate pretext for Mecca’s fall. Two tribes, Khuza‘a and Banu Bakr, had aligned on opposite sides: Khuza‘a with Muhammad, Banu Bakr with Quraysh. Old feuds flared. Banu Bakr, aided by Meccan men and weapons, attacked Khuza‘a and killed some of them near a sanctuary. Survivors fled to Muhammad, appealing to the alliance and the treaty.

Here was the opening he had been waiting for.

Muhammad accused Quraysh of breaking Hudaybiyyah by supporting Banu Bakr in their attack. He then sent envoys with three options: pay blood money for the slain, sever ties with Banu Bakr, or consider the treaty dissolved. Quraysh, divided and exhausted, mishandled the response. Muhammad treated their hesitation and partial gestures as evidence that the pact was dead. The “ten-year truce” lasted only about two years.

By 630, when he marched on Mecca with around 10,000 men, the work Hudaybiyyah had enabled was complete. Jewish power in northern Hijaz was broken. Multiple tribes had sworn allegiance. The Abu Basir episode had shown Quraysh that their caravans were never safe. The treaty itself had been framed as a divine “victory” in Surah 48. All that remained was to present the final assault as a response to treaty violation and to cloak the conquest in a narrative of mercy.

None of this resembles the way Jehovah works through His true servants. Christ refused to build His kingdom by truce-breaking or calculated delay. He did not sign treaties with earthly powers as a tactic to conquer them later. He walked openly toward the torture stake, bearing the sins of the world, telling His followers that His kingdom was not of this world and that if it were, His servants would fight.

Muhammad’s path at Hudaybiyyah is the reverse. He used the language of peace to buy time for war. He staged pilgrimages to force negotiations. He demanded absolute loyalty, nodded at proxy violence, used marriage to capture tribes, and then marched the road his own treaty had paved toward the city he longed to dominate.

Hudaybiyyah is therefore not a story of noble moderation. It is a masterclass in deceit and taqiyya, a pivotal moment when Muhammad traded temporary concessions for long-term strategic gain. The “victory” celebrated in Surah 48 was not the victory of truth over falsehood. It was the victory of calculated cunning over predictable rivals, the victory of a man who would say almost anything, sign almost anything, and then reinterpret it later if it advanced his project.

For readers seeking the truth about Muhammad, Hudaybiyyah stands as a warning. A man who treats oaths and treaties this way—one story for his enemies, another for his followers, and a “revelation” to harmonize both—is not a prophet of Jehovah. He is the architect of an earthly empire, cloaked in religious language, marching inexorably toward conquest.

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