Sunday, May 6, 2012

Toward an Islamic Public Theology of Others


In an attempt to understand the role of religion in the public sphere as an inspiration for the integration and complementarity of citizens and communities, I offer thoughts on some of the philosophical reasoning that is required, focusing on the major issue of an Islamic theology of pluralism.[1] While I do not adhere to the notion that conflict in our contemporary world is primarily religious in nature, I am also not convinced that religious people can provide a theological solution to conflict.[2] Conflicts, like much else in life, are neither monocausal nor monosoluble. Similarly, family resemblances among the Abrahamic faiths require that we recognise the extent of the common grounds, common mutualities of trust but also common challenges that people of Abrahamic faiths share in the contemporary world.[3] But clearly, people of faith do need to articulate reasons for co-operation, for mutual respect and compassion to live fruitful and fulfilling lives in this world. My argument will proceed from knowledge to being and then onto ethics, not necessarily indicating this as a foundationalist order of causality but to save the appearances of much of the Islamic philosophical and theological traditions that begin with how we know and proceed to who we were and where we are going – the whence, what and whither of the famous saying attributed to the cousin and successor to the Prophet, ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib when he was asked about the essence of wisdom.

I: Knowledge and Truth
We live in a world of mutually contradictory truth claims; peer epistemic pressure and anxiety dominate, predicated upon the basic notion that each of us is capable of providing a rational account for our beliefs and that we take our truth claims seriously.[4] For many, this is the basic reason why we ought to hold a relativistic concept of truth and to embrace pluralism.[5] While many theological approaches to truth seem to be predicated on the notion that propositions about the nature of God or the world or humanity are predicted on their correspondence to some reality, these approaches would lead to an even more heightened anxiety. One possible response articulated by the contemporary Iranian thinker ʿAbdol-Karim Soroush is to make a distinction, drawing upon John Hick, between the religious truth an sich and our understanding of it.[6] However, a more pragmatic approach to truth could also be useful: the Qurʾan’s recognition of difference as a basic social fact, which is of no consequence, only privileges the moral as a mark of distinction and not the epistemological (al-Ḥujurāt verse 43). Similarly, the famous poet Rūmī expresses this perspectival pragmatism and lack of understanding through the famous Buddhist parable of the blind men and the elephant. Mutuality actually assists us in understanding – and pragmatism may well be the best approach to epistemic pluralism.

II: Ontology of persons
One of the fundamental features of modern life is the desire to be true to oneself, to seek authentic being that is predicated on the individual’s exclusive, introspectively determined personhood.[7] This notion is based on the idea that each of us possesses a basic autonomy and ability to choose and assert our will, unencumbered by processes of coercion – thus, negative liberty becomes one of the foundational myths of our time. A further problem with such a notion of using the inner self as a guide for moral agency (apart from the wider philosophical debate about whether such a self exists and acts as the ground for moral agency), is that one finds any exercise of morality lapsing into subjectivism and emotivism.[8]

The converse of this liberally grounded notion of an atomistic autonomy is the communitarian insight that in fact we are selves embedded in contexts and communities and that our personhood, identity and ability to exercise moral agency is deeply attached to those contexts in which we find ourselves.[9] The danger with this position is that we see individuals purely in terms of their membership of such groups and therefore consider both religious and political relationships to exist between those groups: the personhood of the individual is therefore dissolved in an extended corporate personhood of the community.[10] Autonomy and selfhood are multilogically determined and socially embodied. We need a philosophy not so much of the ‘I’ but of the ‘We’ in which the ‘I’ does not dissolve but is nurtured and nurtures the moral impulses of the ‘We’. Muslim societies need to appreciate the need for balancing the individual and the community in these terms and to deal with the non-Muslim other at both these levels as well. The theological traditions of Islam address the individual as a person with obligations to fulfil moral agency (taklīf), but they also address persons as believers with mutual ties and obligations (ayyuhā l-ladhīn āmanū) and as humans (ayyuhā l-nās). ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib summarised this dual-level mutuality when he is reported to have said: ‘People are of two kinds: either your brothers in faith or your brothers in humanity’.  The social play and interaction of everyday life is not about the relationships between minds or between disembodied selves but between real persons in real mutual situations.

III: Religiously-inspired humanism
So where does religion impinge in this open, social and public sphere upon the ontology of mutual personhood? It is perhaps not too great a generalisation to argue that religious ethics often concern the moral psychology of persons: our selfhood emerges and is negotiated in the public sphere, and our morality enacted on the basis of what we are. If modern, post-Enlightenment ethics is primarily concerned with the value one ascribes to the act, then most religious ethics is concerned with the person. Both scripture and the philosophical traditions of Islam discuss the modes of human becoming, the life of a self that comes into existence with a body to define the person and the human, traverses and develops in an almost unlimited manner in this world existence and continue the process of renewing and becoming with the death of the body, with its resurrection and with the further resurrections and lives of the self in the afterlife. The Safavid thinker Mullā Ṣadrā describes these processes of becoming of mutual personhood, focusing on the individual but recognising mutuality in the important introduction to his Qurʾanic exegesis, precisely because the process of reading scripture is a means to self-becoming.[11]

The act of reading the Qurʾan is therefore a ‘reading act’ which has both lectionary and illectionary aspects. The illectionary has the force of reading as a spiritual practice in which the words and utterances strike the heart and have the effect of self-transformation leading one to realise one’s mutuality.[12] The lectionary is the consistent reading of the exhortation to the good: for the human rooted in a religious consciousness to do good, to seek good and to cooperate for and in the good: ‘.[13] The good cannot be achieved by the individual nor even just by a small group but rather through mutuality and cooperation: the Qurʾan exhorts competing with one another for the good in the context of recognition of religious diversity (al-Māʾida verse 48). It also exhorts people to cooperate for the good and not to cooperate for evil (al-Māʾida verse 2). The exhortation to the good and to justice is complemented with the disavowal of evil and of injustice – again in the famous statement of ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib: ‘Be a support for the oppressed and always challenge the oppressor’. This religiously-inspired humanism is about activating the human imagination to see the other as the self.[14] This moral mandate for procedural pluralism has roots in the classical period in what Lenn Goodman has classified as ‘Islamic humanism’.[15]

IV: Political theology and accommodation
An important corollary of this humanism is to account for the possibility of states to recognise and allow for religiously-inspired public policy and to accommodate what are sometimes called theocratic communities within the public sphere as long as they agree to certain ground rules, whether identified as the Rawlsian ‘original position’ or within the rubric of the overlapping consensus within deliberate rational, public discourse required of thinking citizens.[16] However, this entails retaining a basic liberal architecture of the polity and also assumes that we define faith primarily in terms of belief, very much a central dogma of post-enlightenment study of religion. An ethics and public theology of mutuality needs to be more than placing one’s beliefs in the same basket as others and engaging in rational debate in the public: it must also allow for the practice of faith, of ritual engagement and of sharing of experience which far too often we find uncomfortable.


[1] Two useful collections of Muslim theological positions on pluralism are Roger Boase (ed), Islam and Global Dialogue: Religious Pluralism and the Pursuit of Peace, Aldershot: Ashgate Publications, 2005, and Mohammad Khalil (ed), Between Heaven and Hell: Islam, Salvation, and the Fate of Others, New York: Oxford University Press, 2012.
[2] William Cavanaugh, The Myth of Religious Violence: Secular Ideology and the Roots of Modern Conflict, New York: Oxford University Press, 2009.
[3] Cf. Paul Heck, Common Ground: Islam, Christianity, and Religious Pluralism, Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press, 2009.
[4] David Basinger, Religious Diversity: A Philosophical Assessment, Aldershot: Ashgate, 2001.
[5] Manuel Garcia-Carpintero and Max Kolbel (ed), Relative Truth, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008.
[6] ʿAbdol-Karīm Surūsh, Qabż va basṭ-i tiʾūrik-i sharīʿat, Tehran: Ṣirāṭ, 1989.
[7] Charles Guignon, On Being Authentic, London: Routledge, 2004.
[8] Most famously critiqued in Alasdair MacIntyre, After Virtue, 2nd edition, London: Duckworth, 1981.
[9] E.g. Charles Taylor, The Sources of the Self, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989.
[10] This danger within communitarianism is highlighted in Javeed Alam, ‘Public sphere and democratic governance in contemporary India’, in Rajeev Bhargava, Amiya Kumar Bagchi & R. Sudarshan (eds), Multiculturalism, Liberalism and Democracy, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1999, 323-47.
[11] Mullā Ṣadrā Shīrāzī, Tafsīr al-Qurʾān al-karīm, ed. Muḥsin Bīdārfar, Qum: Intishārāt-i Bīdār 1987, I: 2-3.
[12] Cf. Sara Rappe, Reading Neoplatonism: Non-discursive Thinking in Plotinus, Proclus, and Damascius, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999. ‘Reading act’ – analogy with ‘speech act’.
[13] One of the best arguments in this light and with a view to pluralism is Abdulaziz Sachedina, The Islamic Roots of Democratic Pluralism, New York: Oxford University Press, 2000; idem, ‘Advancing religious pluralism in Islam’, Religion: Compass 4.4 (2010), 221-33
[14] Paul Ricoeur, Oneself as Another, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994.
[15] Lenn Goodman, Islamic Humanism, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003.
[16] John Rawls, A Theory of Justice, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1971; cf. Lucas Swaine, The Liberal Conscience: Politics and Principle in a World of Religious Pluralism, New York: Columbia University Press, 2006; Andrew March, Islam and Liberal Citizenship: The Search for an Overlapping Consensus, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009. 

Thursday, May 3, 2012

10 Theses on Multiculturalism (!)


1) Multiculturalism has not been intellectually defeated. The principle that a liberal state should encourage diversity within the rule of law and embrace pluralism as a good still holds.

2) Religious freedoms including those of expression remain important to defend including the public performance of ritual; religion does have a role in the public square.

3) Our liberal democracies should continue to embrace a pluralist form of liberalism that is tolerant of difference and not illiberal – pluralistic not monistic. 
4) Fundamentalism (of religious faith and practice) should not be confused with political and violent extremism.  

5) Faith is more than introspective belief (or set of propositions about reality held to be true) and includes the performance of ritual as moral agency.

6) The strength of democracies lies in their ability to embrace difference and protect the rights of minorities and those who do not have easy access to power. 

7) Interculturalism is not a serious alternative to multiculturalism
[cf. Tariq Modood].
8) Multiculturalism should not involve a colonial approach to communities and should not assume communities are homogenous but should recognise differences and different priorities within communities.
9) States should engage with citizens at the different levels of identities that they hold and wish to express in the public sphere (again within the rule of law).

10) Multiculturalism is ultimately about cooperation across communities that constitute society to cooperate in pursuit of the common good.

Liberal heresy in the contemporary Islamic cosmopolis


For a generation now, specialists have been searching for alternative, new voices that articulate and speak for Islam in the modern world, somewhat dismayed and perhaps disaffected by the saturated coverage of the ‘fundamentalists’, ‘literalists’, and the ‘Islamists’. In this new and creative work that is based upon his doctoral dissertation and research undertaken in Indonesia and the Middle East, Kersten (who is based at King’s College, London and blogs here) examines the role of three contemporary ‘liberal’ Muslim thinkers who stand outside the mainstream, who have a training in the traditional disciplines of the Islamic space of learning often called the madrasa (or at least have a familiarity with it), and who are not just influenced by but also express the traditions of intellectual fashion current in metropolitan academia and its study of religion. These three voices are Hasan Hanafi, the late Nurcholish Madjid and the late Mohammed Arkoun, all of whom belong to a first generation of postcolonial Muslim intellectuals concerned with making sense of the Muslim heritage, ‘Islam as civilization’, for Muslims in the contemporary world, influenced by multi-disciplinary academic approaches to the study of Islam. Kersten’s argument is partly that unlike the earlier generation of colonial, modernists who were simply concerned with making Islam ‘relevant’ to the contemporary world through the adoption of modern ideologies, institutions and practices, this generation of thinkers expresses not only a distrust of the possibilities of modernist commensurability but also of the ‘fundamentalist’ quest for authentic being through an atavistic and ahistorical ‘return’ to the pristine, early generation of Muslims, al-salaf al-ṣāliḥ. 

The book under review is therefore an exercise in contemporary intellectual history. After a critical first chapter that considers the methodological problem of how to write an intellectual history of the contemporary Muslim world supplemented with a second chapter on theories relating to the study of Islam, the book comprises another ten chapters. Three chapters each are devoted to the thinkers: one on their intellectual biography and two on elements of their thought and engagement with the modern. The final chapter is a conclusion that brings them together and considers the very notion of a new Muslim intellectual; it would have been useful to see how the author might consider the transmission to a next generation of thinkers and consider the impact of these thinks. The structure of the book might have been clearer if the author had decided to divide the chapters into four sections and a conclusion: preliminaries on theory and method, on Madjid, on Hanafi, and on Arkoun.

In the introduction, Kersten states that any contemporary intellectual history will definitely be influenced by the major trends in the study of religion and Islam today including secularization theory and Orientalism, taking along the way notions of discourse, Foucault and Derrida. However, the real frame for the study of these three figures that Kersten suggests is Russell McCutcheon’s rather nominalist study of religion (responding to the essentialist phenomenology of the so-called Chicago school exemplified by Mircea Eliade). It is therefore little surprise that in the next chapter on his theoretical approach, the author embraces the position of Gavin Flood on the study of religion in a similarly post-phenomenological mode. The contemporary study of Islamic thought certainly does seem to fall into the tripartite division of theological engagement or apologetics, phenomenology, and critique – and just like the historians of Islam and the phenomenologists, they all seem to be taking about different things or certainly different senses of religiosity. However, the pitfall of the McCutcheon approach could be a reduction of the category of religion to just another social formation might imply that a better frame for studying these three figures could be postcolonialism or even Marxism. Others like Armando Salvatore have read contemporary Islam thought through the prism of Habermas and debates on religion in the public sphere, and others like Andrew March have concerned themselves with contemporary political thought and the applicability of Rawls and the liberal tradition. The question is how does one deal with a category of religion or of Islam or the Islamic heritage that may be useful across three very different cultural contexts concerning thinkers with quite different intellectual influences and spaces for agency. This second chapter is the theoretical heart of the book. It suggests a method that retains elements of phenomenological engagement and hermeneutics (drawn from Ricoeur), but still insists upon a critical distance from the subject and a desire to found a hermeneutics, of explanation, of understanding, that brings together this previous tradition with a narrativist and a dialogic approach. But then in a world in which the ‘myth of objectivity’ is ever more a given, then surely the method that we adopt in any social science by definition tends to be one that embraces multiple, overlapping subjectivities. While it is not entirely well integrated into the rest of the book (although to an extent it explains why the use of the terms cosmopolitan and heretic in the title are not merely sensationalist), this chapter is an excellent theoretical inquiry into the study of religion. Critically, it not only abandons an essentialist reading of religion as a timeless set of doctrines, practices and rituals, but also distances itself from postmodernist approaches to religion by holding onto the category of religion as a meaningful concept and signifier. These concerns about method are then applied to the three thinkers lightly – and it is clear that they are engaged not just as Islamic thinkers within their traditions but are read as interlocutors within debates about the study of religion per se. However, it is worth noting that students and non-specialists will find the theory chapter rather heavy going. 

The first thinker, Nurcholish Madjid (d. 2005) better known as Cak Nur, was a leading liberal thinker in Indonesia, initially trained in pesantren and who later obtained a doctorate from the University of Chicago where he was a student of one of the leading Muslim modernists of the twentieth century (and a thinker who demands a serious monographic study), Fazlur Rahman (d. 1988). Kersten locates him within two frames: first, Indonesian thought that often seems torn between engaging with the larger Muslim universalism and the particularism of Javanese ecumenism, and second, within a group of reforming hybrid thinkers that included Harun Nasution (the famous proponent of Islam rasional) who were trained in the new Islamic universities (IAIN network) that were originally inspired by al-Azhar but increasingly influenced by (neo-)modernist thought. Cak Nur was much more than just a modernist; he embraced secularisation theory as relevant to Islam and strongly rejected Islamism and the demands for an Islamic state. He went to Chicago to take part in the project on Islam and social change led by Leonard Binder and Fazlur Rahman. The dissertation that he wrote under the direction of Rahman was on the theology of Ibn Taymiyya attempting to rethink the relationship between reason and revelation and indicates Madjid’s location within a group of Indonesian thinkers self-styled as neo-Muʿtazilī and studied by Richard Martin. The influence of Rahman’s own project of Islamic renaissance founded upon the study of philosophy and philosophical hermeneutics was clear; often called the double-movement theory, this involved a contextualised reading of scripture to derive ethical norms in search of a normative Islam that could be transposed into the present. Cak Nur applied that approach to the study of Ibn Taymiyya in whom he saw a fellow reformer and kindred spirit who was quite different from the godfather of violence and forebear of the modern Salafī movement in which many locate him. His own project (especially Islam: Doctrine and Civilization in 1992) culminated in work advocating pluralism, cosmopolitanism and a humanist hermeneutics of Islam, eschewing both a simple compatibilist modernism and the revivalist neo-fundamentalism. His engagement with the intellectual traditions of Islam also placed him at odds with most modernists.

Hasan Hanafi, one of the most prominent contemporary Arab intellectuals, trained as a philosopher in Cairo and Paris. Beginning his intellectual career as a member of the Muslim Brotherhood engaged in the modernist project and disillusioned with the tradition of Islamic philosophy that seemed ethically impoverished and lacking in social conscience, he has become more of a phenomenologist. An extremely prolific writer, he is a leading critic of Islamisms and of various tendencies in contemporary Islamic thought. He is the only one of the three thinkers still alive and, arguably, still evolving his thought. His interest in Islam is less with the vertical relationship with the divine and more with the horizontal and social relationship between humans. The approach to theology is therefore concerned with the communal and social sphere and not the doctrinal. Kersten compares Hanafi’s study in Paris to Iqbal’s in Heidelberg a generation or so earlier. Iqbal’s own modernism and desire for intellectual revival that was socially embedded and his flirtation with German idealism appealed to Hanafi and partly accounted for Hanafi’s own turn towards the phenomenology of first Heidegger and then Husserl. This is an interesting line of inquiry. Iqbal is certainly a major figure of modern Islamic thought but far too much attention has confined him to his South Asian context and failed to locate him within tendencies in wider Islamic thought. Hanafi’s primary concern has been with method, how to apply his existential phenomenology and third-worldism to the present problems of Islam. Thus his approach to reading the Islamic traditions is to approach them as method and not doctrine, reminiscent of Ricoeur’s own use of Husserl. Any revival of the Islamic traditions requires a hermeneutical approach and an engaged political consciousness. This often involves a radical approach that he might consider to be cosmopolitan but others see as heretical. The key feature that he shares with Cak Nur is the identification of the task of the contemporary intellectual as that of enlightenment – and hence his championing of Ibn Rushd.

Mohammed Arkoun (d. 2010) shared with the other two thinkers a deep concern with reviving or establishing an Islamic humanism. Trained in Paris like Hanafi, he began as a medievalist interested in the anthropological insights of Levi-Strauss and the hermeneutics of French post-structuralists. Arkoun’s critique of the field involved not only a deconstruction of traditional orientalism but also of ‘islamic reason’ within a project that he initially called ‘applied islamology’. A historical approach to the tradition led him to engage extensively with what he considered to be the ‘unthought’ in Islamic thought. Just like Hanafi, he has also had an impact in Indonesia – and it seems that while it is not explicit, Kersten’s choice of these three thinkers has much to do with the Indonesian context in which much of the research was conducted. In fact, in the final chapter, the rather brief conclusion, Kersten makes it clear that the new Muslim intellectualism that is the focus on this study has found its most enthusiastic reception in Indonesia. But this does not factor in the importance of these thinkers in diasporas and among Muslim communities in the West. But in many ways, the book offers an excellent corrective to the Middle East focused bias of Islamic studies and is a strong advocate for a serious study of South East Asian studies. It is refreshing to see a ‘view from the edge’, especially given the demographic and institutional significance of Indonesia. However, this also leads to gaps – Hanafi should be located more within Arab and especially Egyptian contexts, and Arkoun in North African and francophone ones. While the Indonesian embrace of ‘intellectualism’ is important, the significance and impact of what happens in Egypt, Iran and Turkey is probably greater – and more studied, which may account for this approach. Even Iraq and parts of the Gulf are emerging as significant intellectually, though the concept of a public intellectual in the Gulf remains problematic. Kersten’s work therefore deserves to be read alongside other modern intellectual histories present in the work of Aziz al-Azmeh, Mona Abaza, and the late Ibrahim Abu-Rabiʿ among others.

Kersten summarises the contribution of these thinkers in four points. First, all of them are interested in the key relationship between tradition and modernity mediated by the concept of authenticity that is central to contemporary life – all of us tend to be concerned with living a life that is true to oneself, of authentic being (and an excellent discussion of this is Charles Guignon). Re-orienting the focus upon authenticity allows one to overcome the history consequentialism and binarism of tradition and modernity especially given the presence of both in the contemporary. Second, they are all committed to the central role of reason in Islamic thought and can be placed within a movement that one may classify as neo-Muʿtazilī. Third, they are committed to humanism and an anthropocentric approach to religion - the key to a contemporary Islamic theology is to reorient the focus away from the vertical to the horizontal, from the esoterica of the divine nature to the ephemeral mysteries of the human. After all, God does not need defending (despite the hysteria of many contemporary media conflicts and violent demonstrations in the present) but humans do require protection from their fellows. Finally, they are all opposed to Islamisms and the conflation of religion and state; Islam as identity, public discourse, doctrine, and public ritual does not necessarily need to be reified and reduced to a constitutional privilege. 


One of the key issues is how to gauge the impact of these thinkers and that remains an open question that requires a serious engagement with what is happening today. Where are the legacies of these thinkers? What constitutes the next generation? Kersten’s intellectual history has prepared the ground for such a critical endeavour and is to be congratulated for such a thoughtful and thought-provoking book. 

Saturday, March 31, 2012

Richard Rorty and Pragmatism

Rorty died in 2007 and remains one of the most influential of recent American philosophers whose early work Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature remains a favourite of mine. Here is a link to a special issue of New Literary History a few years back on Rorty. Here is the Stanford Encyclopaedia of Philosophy entry on him. The real contribution of Rorty was part of the whole literary turn within philosophy, moving beyond the analytic tradition and sounding the death knell of traditional analytic philosophy.