Personal Reflections on Knowledge, Writing, and Eloquence

As much as I would like to claim otherwise, I did not possess any bookish inclinations as a young child. To me, reading was something that required undue mental exertion and served as a bothersome distraction from the kind hooliganism that is the right of every young boy in America. In my 11th grade “Great Books” class I was assigned to read 15 novels, including Crime and Punishment. I read exactly zero of the assigned works and managed to pass the course with a D+, a high mark about which my mother would never let me forget. If my memory serves me well—and I don’t say this on account of false modesty—on the eve of my high school graduation I had read only one book cover-to-cover: The Twits by Roald Dahl. It is impossible to know for certain what impact such a rich and wide-ranging reading experience had on my subsequent intellectual development.

By contrast, although I did not have a particular fondness for reading, I generally managed to receive good marks on my writing assignments, excepting Great Books, of course. I derived a strange pleasure from composing verbose sentences, which I would read back to myself, over and over again, in what surely amounted to a rather peculiar form of narcissism. Indeed, I took such a strong liking to eloquent prose that I was often tempted to plagiarize. That someone had expressed in precise language what I felt vaguely and obscurely, and which was lodged somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind but could never quite find its way to my pen, caused me to feel a burning itch of frustration and envy. But I could never bring myself to appropriate language that wasn’t my own, if only out of fear that I would be exposed. Had I been certain that I could emerge unscathed, I would have appended my name to Dickens and his progeny a thousand times over. Like many others, my lust for eloquence sprang from a desire to be thought brilliant, even if it was objectively untrue.

As painful as it is to acknowledge, save for a few inconsequential departures, my childhood story represented the diametric opposite of the boy-genius described by Bertrand Russell—a child prone to withdrawing into a dark corner and drowning himself in letters: “Adults who achieve anything of value, as a rule, have liked solitude: [as children] they have tried to slink into a corner with a book and been happiest when they could escape the notice of their barbarian contemporaries,” he would write. By every measure, I was the barbarian who the young prodigy would do well to avoid, unless he hoped to become duller.

It was only upon entering university that I experienced a genuine intellectual awakening. Living at home, it was difficult to find moments of repose and quiet but, in college, for the first time in my life, I found myself with ample time to allow my mind to wander into realms that it had hitherto never entered. After a verbal confrontation with my childhood friend about the merits of our respective religions, Islam and Christianity, I was left feeling that I did not put forth an adequate defense of a faith that I intuitively believed was intellectually sound. I thus developed an earnest desire to learn about Islam and believe that all of my subsequent intellectual interests sprang from this initial incursion. Islam was necessarily a kaleidoscopic subject in which law, history, philosophy, theology, spirituality, and art were wrapped into one and thus provided the perfect spark to a mind that had grown stale from 18 years of disuse.

On my college campus I earned a reputation—undeserved, to be sure—for being knowledgeable about the topics on which I pontificated. I would frequently participate in on-campus debates in which I would showcase my verbal pyrotechnics and gift of repartee. In my private moments I often felt considerable guilt that I was motivated, at least in part, by a desire to earn praise from my peers and elders. I knew that from a spiritual perspective seeking knowledge for personal glory was a reprehensible trait, one that the great sages had continually described as an affliction of the human heart. Al-Ghazali would famously say, “knowledge without action is vanity, and action without knowledge is insanity.” I was often chastised by my close friends and family for acquiring “knowledge” for all the wrong reasons. I knew there was truth to their charge, but that it was incomplete, as my love for learning owed to something quite sincere as well, including a love and empathy for those I advocated on behalf of. Years later I came realize that, except for a handful of God’s chosen saints, it is the occupation of every human being to live for a desire to earn the respect of their contemporaries, no matter how much they wish to deny it. It is emphatically true that even the noblest pursuits, among which the acquisition of knowledge is only one, can be employed for vainglorious ends. George Orwell insisted that the trait that motivates writers foremost is “sheer egoism,” and a “desire to seem clever, to be talked about, to be remembered after death, to get your own back on the grown-ups who snubbed you in childhood.” “It is humbug to pretend this is not a motive, and a strong one,” he would say. That narcissism is only the trait of those consumed with their physical beauty is surely not right. In reality, one’s intentions are almost always divided in which self-aggrandizing motives are in constant war with nobler impulses. It is an on-going struggle, but one that becomes easier to overcome, in my view, as one develops self-assuredness and depends less-and-less on affirmation from others while simultaneously seeking a Higher purpose. It is a strange irony that confidence is often the surest cure for hubris.

An Introduction to the Israel-Palestine Conflict

In an effort to escape European anti-semitism and create a land in which the Jewish people could preserve a cultural and religious heritage that was slowly fading, European Jews began emigrating en masse to Palestine in the late 19th century. Prior to the first wave of Zionist immigration, the demographic character of historical Palestine–what today constitutes Israel proper, the West Bank and Gaza Strip–was roughly 88-90 percent Arab Muslim and Christian, and 10-12 percent Jewish. These were Palestine’s indigenous inhabitants since the Arab conquests of the 7th century. The early Zionist visionaries were acutely aware of this demographic disparity, so much so that other venues were initially contemplated, among them Uganda and Argentina. However, appreciable support for these alternatives would never materialize and thus the Zionist enterprise embarked upon a mission to create a Jewish state in a land that was almost homogeneously Arab. This fact, that the Jews sought to a return to a land inhabited by another people, more than any other, explains why Arabs and Jews find themselves embroiled in a seemingly intractable conflict. In short, the consensus of modern scholarship, backed by unassailable documentary evidence, has long discarded the myth that Palestine was a desolate wasteland prior to the arrival of industrious Jewish immigrants.

Palestine’s indigenous population, including its Jewish inhabitants, strongly resisted this program of mass migration, which they regarded as garden-variety colonization and dispossession. It was understood at the outset that the purpose of immigration was to gain strength by numbers and eventually wrest a portion of the land from the Arabs, thereby making possible the creation of a Jewish state. The foundations of a tragedy were thus being laid beneath the feet of the Arabs: although every other surrounding Arab population was being given a state, the nations of the world were not forthcoming in declaring Palestinian statehood, suspending the right of Palestinian self-determination to enable the Zionist dream.

Over the next roughly 65 years, continued Jewish immigration into Palestine fueled mutual enmity between Jews and Arabs, frequently erupting in Arab-Jewish revolts. By 1947, Jews had managed to shift the demographic imbalance slightly in their favor, now constituting approximately 30 percent of Palestine’s population. As migration into Palestine continued, Zionist leaders succeeded in gaining broad support from key nations and international luminaries for the purpose of lobbying the League of Nations—later to become the United Nations–to partition Palestine. Western support for the Zionist project first found formal expression in the Balfour Declaration in 1917 and slowly gained currency in succeeding decades. From 1920-1948 the League of Nations empowered Great Britain to administer the government of Palestine, which came to be known as the period of the British Mandate. Continuing in its tradition as a duplicitous colonial power, Britain made mutually exclusive guarantees to the Arabs and Jews, assuring the Arabs that their right to self-determination would not be compromised while simultaneously supporting the Zionist effort to establish a homeland in the midst of a predominately Arab community. No doubt, Western Europe and its allies were forced to acknowledge the many indefensible tragedies they had visited on the Jewish people. European anti-semitism, of course, found its most psychotic expression in the indiscriminate mass murder of 5.3 million Jews in the Nazi Holocaust, but was preceded by centuries of persecution in the form of the Crusades, Spanish Inquisition and Russian pogroms. Thus, setting aside bare political considerations, providing the Jews with a safe-haven in Palestine was regarded as an act of penitence, a way to bring repose to a conscience riddled with centuries of interminable guilt. But why, the Arabs maintained, must they surrender their land to a foreign people to redress wrongs for which they bore no responsibility? Their pleas fell on deaf ears.

In 1947 the United Nations, backed by the world’s superpowers, put forth a partition resolution, the terms of which provided that 55 percent of Palestine was to go to the Jews and the remaining 45 percent, mostly arid land, to the Arabs. Given that the Arabs vastly outnumbered the Jews in Palestine for nearly 1400 years, that in spite of 65 years of Jewish immigration the Arabs still comprised 70 percent of the population, and that most of the Jews now inhabiting Palestine were not indigenous to the land, the Arabs were resolute in their opposition to this proposal. Although it can fairly be argued that, in hindsight, the Arab nations would have done well to accept these terms it is incontestable that the UN proposal constituted a gross injustice to the native Arab population and a tremendous benefaction to the Jewish people.

Contrary to the oft-recited myth, the Arab states did not immediately attack Israel upon learning of the UN proposal. Benny Morris, the noted Zionist and one of the world’s foremost authorities on the Arab-Israeli conflict, notes that following the declaration of the UN partition plan Jewish militia carried out as many as twenty-four separate massacres against Palestine’s Arab inhabitants, the most notorious taking place in the Palestinian village of Dier Yassin in April 1948. The method behind this madness was to terrorize the Arab population into fleeing from that portion of land given to the Jews and thereby achieve a demographic purity that the architects of Zionism regarded as an indispensable element of the nascent Jewish state. The reality was, it was impossible to carve up the map in such a way as to allow for a decided Jewish majority in any given area within Palestine. Indeed, this was true even within the initial 55 percent the UN partitioned to the Jewish state; ethnic cleansing of the Arabs thus provided an expedient means of dealing with this demographic predicament. By May 1948, some 400,000 Palestinians had been forcefully expelled from their homes.

Following Israel’s public declaration of statehood in May 1948, the Arab states went to war with Israel. Israel recognized that the 48 War furnished a momentous opportunity to complete its program of forced transfer. In the aftermath of the first Arab-Israeli War, an additional 350,000 Arabs were forced to flee from their homes. Although historians are divided on whether this second mass exodus was the product of pre-mediated aggression or merely an “accident of war,” Israel’s emphatic denial that it bears no responsibility for the refugee tragedy is undercut by one irrefutable fact: regardless of what caused the transfer/expulsion, Israel categorically denied refugees the right to return to their homes once an armistice with the Arab states had been signed. Even today, although international law provides Palestinians refugees with an incontrovertible right of return pursuant to UN Resolution 194, Israel has openly declared its uncompromising opposition to any such measure. Indeed, even diplomats genuinely sympathetic to the Palestinian plight such as Jimmy Carter maintain that permitting refugees to return to Israel proper would threaten the “Jewish character” of Israel. As such, financial compensation is often touted as a just compromise between these two seemingly irreconcilable Arab-Jewish claims. Today, more than 80 percent of Gaza’s residents are 48’ refugees or the children of such refugees. Israel’s creation forced hundreds of thousands of Palestinians into refugee camps, an existence that 60 years later is still characterized by abject poverty, penury and hopelessness. All of this stands in violent contrast to the opulence and privilege that modern day Israel affords it Jewish citizen. In sum, the “quid pro quo” for the Zionist dream was an unmitigated nightmare for Palestinian Arabs.

In addition to the expulsion of 750,000 Arabs, Israel dealt the Arab armies a decisive blow in the 48 War and managed to annex a considerable portion of that 45 percent of Palestine designated by the UN for the Arabs. Thus, once hostilities had ceased Israel possessed territorial control over 78 percent of historical Palestine. This 78 percent is today what is known as Israel proper or simply “Israel,” a land which, despite the historic injustice done to the Arabs, Israel can legitimately claim legal title to under international law. The remaining 22 percent is what we call the West Bank and Gaza, the latter only comprising 5 percent of the whole. However, even this 22 percent is by no means free from Israel’s stranglehold. In 1967 Israel and its Arab neighbors went to war again. Israel carried out a highly successful pre-emptive attack against the Arab armies and demonstrated a military superiority that established it as the undisputed regional superpower and the United States’ most cherished ally in the Middle East. In the course of the war, Israel continued its expansionist program, annexing four additional territories: Sinai, Golan Heights, the West Bank, and Gaza Strip. Sinai was returned to Egypt in 1978 during the Camp David Peace Accords brokered by Jimmy Carter. However, the Syrian Golan Heights and Palestinian West Bank and Gaza Strip remain under Israeli control, more than forty years since their illegal annexation.

Consider the implications: today Israel effectively controls every square inch of historical Palestine. It possesses legal “de jure” title over all of Israel proper, and “de facto” military control over the West Bank and Gaza. Thus every atom of Palestine is either part of the official Jewish state or under Israeli military occupation. When we speak of the two state solution, it should be remembered that the Palestinian Arabs have already conceded an astonishing 78 percent of their historical homeland and are fighting to regain possession of the remaining 22, a land now occupied by nearly half a million Jewish settlers, massive settlement infrastructures, and tens of thousands of heavily armed Israeli soldiers who have made life for Palestinians perfectly unlivable. Indeed, even on this remaining 22 Israel has demonstrated an unequivocal intent to annex whatever portion of the land the international community will acquiesce to. To date, repeated UN resolutions, rulings by the International Court of Justice, and universal condemnation by prominent human rights groups have not thwarted Israel from its inhumane policy of colonizing those remaining slivers of territory which once formed but a small parcel of Arab Palestine. Bertrand Russell, widely recognized as the most eloquent spokesman for human rights in the 20th century, said it well:

“The tragedy of the people of Palestine is that their country was “given” by a foreign power to another people for the creation of a new state. The result was that many hundreds of thousands of innocent people were made permanently homeless. With every new conflict their numbers increased. How much longer is the world willing to endure this spectacle of wanton cruelty? It is abundantly clear that the refugees have every right to the homeland from which they were driven, and the denial of this right is at the heart of the continuing conflict. No people anywhere in the world would accept being expelled en masse from their country; how can anyone require the people of Palestine to accept a punishment which nobody else would tolerate?”

An Introduction to Islamic Doctrine: A Young Muslim’s Perspective

An Introduction to Islamic Doctrine: A Young Muslim’s Perspective

Islam represents one of the largest and most ethnically diverse sacred traditions in human history. The foundational teaching of Islam is most elegantly expressed in the Islamic declaration of faith known as the Shahada. One enters the fold of Islam by declaring that, “There is no deity worthy of worship except God and Muhammad is His [last and final] messenger.” Islam teaches that if this belief is sincerely held by a human being, salvation in the afterlife “is a promise from God in truth” (Qur’an 4:122). In addition to belief in Muhammad’s Prophethood, Islam requires belief in all of the Prophets of the Jewish and Christian tradition, including Noah, Abraham, Moses, Issac, Jacob, Solomon, David, and Jesus. Islam teaches that these Prophets brought one universal message of pure monotheism, that is, a belief in One God, not complicated by intermediaries, sons, daughters, or indeed any conduit that would impede direct worship between a servant and His Maker. In this vein, Jews and Muslims adhere to a remarkably similar conception of the Divine. Islam insists upon a direct and personal relationship with God without an ecclesiastical hierarchy or any form of intercession; as such, it is uncompromisingly “monotheistic” and strongly discourages excessive theological speculation about Divine nature that, Muslims believe, caused prior religions communities to blur the distinction between God and Man, mostly notably through the apotheosis of Christ. In requiring belief in One God, Muslims believe that Islam subscribes to a highly rational theology that is capable of being understood by all human beings. Islam teaches that the exercise of one’s ratiocinative faculties and innate intelligence can enable one to come to a realization of the Divine (Qur’an 38:29); that said, the Qur’an insists that belief in the “Unseen” is an inescapable component of the Islamic faith and that a full understanding of the nature of the universe rests with God alone (Qur’an 2: 1-3; 72:26).

In much the same way that Islam rejects the deification of Christ, a Muslim is categorically prohibited from worshiping the Prophet Muhammad and forbidden from elevating his status above any of his prophetic predecessors. (Quran 2:136). Indeed, it is noteworthy that most sacred traditions are often named after their purported founders or points of geographic origin: Christianity (Christ), Buddhism (Buddha), Judaism (tribe of Judah), Hinduism (descendents of the “Sindhu” River), Confucianism (Confucius). By contrast, Islam is not named after the Prophet Muhammad or pre-modern Arabia, but rather encompasses a broad and universal meaning that transcends all individual and geographic demarcations. The word “Islam” translates as “submission to the Will of God,” whose etymology traces to the word “salaam,” meaning peace. In addition, although a common source of misunderstanding, the word “Allah” is simply the Arabic word for God, much like “Dieu” denotes God in French, or “Elohim” in Hebrew. Indeed, the name  for God in the language purportedly spoken by Christ in the New Testament, Aramaic, is “Alaha,” which is nearly phonetically identical to its Arabic counterpart. In short, “Allah” is used by both Arabic-speaking Christians and Muslims to refer to the One Monotheistic God worshiped by the Prophet Abraham.

Muslims believe that the Qur’an represents the final revelation sent to humankind. That said, the Qur’an confers the reverent title of “People of the Scripture” upon Jews and Christians, which speaks to the fact that the both religious communities were recipients of Divine Revelation. Islam commands a Muslim to believe in previously-revealed holy scriptures, including the Torah, Psalms, and the Gospel of Christ, known as the “Injeel” in Arabic and “Evangelion” in Greek. Notwithstanding this commandment, the Islamic tradition teaches that prior revelations were subjected to interpolation and alternation through succeeding centuries and thus calls upon Muslims to judge altered religious texts by the standard of the Qur’an, which is sometimes referred to as the “Final Revelation” or “The Criterion” (Arabic: Al-Furqan). Given the common Abrahamic lineage between Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, one will find that much of what exists in the present-day Old and New Testaments fully comports with the Qur’anic ethos, a fact perhaps best reflected by the famous Sermon of the Mount reported in the Gospel of Matthew. Indeed, insofar as “Christian” translates as “follower of Christ,” a Muslim steadfastly regards himself as a follower of Jesus and his message of pure monotheism found in the New Testament (Luke 18:19).

Similarly, both Islam and Christianity subscribe to a conception of God whose paramount attribute is Divine Mercy and Grace. Nevertheless, from a believing Muslim’s perspective, Islam’s view of salvation and forgiveness departs from the Christian tradition in important ways. In contrast to the Christian doctrine of “Vicarious Sacrifice,” Islam maintains that each individual is responsible for his own sins (Qur’an 6:164) and that it is not through the shedding of blood, but rather non-conditional Divine Mercy, that God forgives sin. While honoring the Christian tradition, Islam does not subscribe to the notion that God demands a quid pro quo to forgive sin. Rather, Islamic tradition teaches that God has stated “My Mercy is greater than My Justice,” and thus, recognizing man’s frailty and propensity for sin, forgives without demanding recompense of any sort. It is important to emphasize that despite these theological differences, a Muslim is strictly forbidden from disparaging any faith (Qur’an: 6: 108) and must honor and respect religious diversity; moreover, the Qur’an is emphatic that freedom of conscience and the right to choose one’s faith, or no faith at all, is a divine right that may not be stripped of any human being (Qur’an 2:256 & 109:6).

Like many other world religions Islam provides believers with a sacred law that contains a general prohibition against pork, alcohol, gambling, etc. However, the essence of the Islamic ethos is not adherence to divine law, but rather faith and belief in God, His Signs, His Prophets, His Revelations and striving to live a life characterized by humility, selflessness, love, and always caring for the weakest members of society. Like previous Abrahamic prophets. Muslims believe these virtues were most beautifully exemplified by the Prophet Muhammad during his twenty-three year ministry, which was a period marked by immense political turmoil and persecution. The Prophet Muhammad’s example of moral uprightness in the midst of a highly patriarchal and primitive seventh-century Arabian society reinforces a Muslim’s belief that his is a noble example most worthy of emulation. The diversity and richness of the Prophet Muhammad’s life in his role as a father, a son, an orphan, a husband, a statesman, and a religious figure, provides succeeding generations of Muslims with a model of moral excellence to follow in all realms of human endeavor. Similar to the Christian adage, “What would Jesus do?” a Muslim is taught to ask, “What would God’s prophets do?,” which includes not just Muhammad, but Abraham, Noah, Moses, Jesus, and others.

Islamic doctrine is clear that it is not by one’s good works, but God’s Mercy that one achieves salvation. As the Prophet Muhammad famously said, “Do good deeds properly, sincerely and moderately, and rejoice, for no one’s good deeds will put him in Paradise. His Companions asked: ‘Not even you, Oh Messenger of God?’ He replied: “Not even me, unless God bestowed His Grace and Mercy upon me.” (Sahih al-Bukhari, Vol. 8, No. 474). Although Islam discourages vice, many Muslims, both today and even during the time of the Prophet Muhammad, continually fell into a state of “sinfulness,” which included the consumption of alcohol, fornication, and the like. Muslims are encouraged to do their level best to live a life of God-consciousness and conform one’s actions to sacred law, but a Muslim is taught not to despair if he finds himself struggling in his adherence to legal injunctions (Qur’an 2:222). Islam teaches that faith is to be a source of spiritual nourishment and beauty, not a suffocating tradition that robs life of all its zest. Indeed, the Prophet Muhammad himself strongly encouraged entertainment and lightheartedness, particularly on festive occasions such as weddings and religious celebrations. In so doing, he explicitly rejected the extreme forms of asceticism that caused man to cut himself off from the blessings of the material world. Islam seeks to strike a practical balance between excessive materialism and monastic life. In this vein, western scholars often noted that Islam was a beautiful manifestation of Aristotle’s “Golden Mean.”

“Mankind, We created you from a male and female, and made you into distinct nations and tribes so that you might come to know each other. The noblest among you in God’s sight is the one who is best in conduct.” (Qur’an 49:13)

Qur’an Burning, Violence and the Political Instrumentalization of Islam

For many Muslims, writing about the recent Qur’an burning incident and ensuing criminality in Afghanistan is a highly problematic exercise. It puts one in the unenviable position of wanting to condemn subhuman behavior that contravenes the most elementary canons of Islamic morality, while simultaneously wanting to explain the political context and circumstances that give rise to the lawlessness that claimed twenty-two lives. A Muslim will find that if he fails to strike an almost-perfect balance between these two considerations, he will be either branded as a covert apologist for terrorism or, in the alternative, regarded as a traitor to the world Muslim community. Indeed, Islam’s modern antagonists often accuse Western Muslims of speaking with a “forked tongue,” tailoring their response to terrorism to the audience they are addressing rather than speaking in a solitary voice. My belief is that this charge of duplicity is largely unfounded, although I suspect that, like all communities, Muslims are not immune from double-speak, particularly given the heated political environment in which they find themselves. Case in point: American politicians are frequently accused of this same cunningness when speaking on the Israel-Palestine conflict—one need only compare President Obama’s June 4, 2008 address to AIPAC, to his “landmark” speech to the Muslim world on June 4, 2009, exactly one year later.

Despite the inherent intellectual and political challenges that moral consistency presents, Muslims, in my view, should do their level best to not allow cynics to derail them from cultivating a moral discourse that is equally unforgiving in its condemnation of vigilante terrorism as it is in its denunciation of state terrorism. Given the current balance of power, the former is often practiced by Muslims, while the latter is most often visited upon them by the world’s major powers, including the United States, Russia, China, India, and Israel. As the highly professional reporting of Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International has consistently shown, the Iraqi, Afghani, Chechen, Turkestani, Kashmiri, and Palestinian people represent the most tragic victims of state terrorism in the Muslim world today.

In several of my essays, I have argued forcefully that terrorism and vigilante justice find no currency in the classical Islamic tradition and the textual sources upon which this tradition is founded, namely the Qur’an and prophetic traditions. In so doing, I have admittedly adopted an apologetic stance by not discussing the underlying atrocities committed against Muslims by Western powers, which have nurtured a criminal psychology in many parts of the Arab and Muslim world. A reader not familiar with my politics could reasonably infer that I am merely a “secular” or “sellout” American Muslim inclined to adopt a pro-Western position whenever controversy arises and that my stance represents a departure from a traditional Islamic view. However, my decision to focus, first, on violence emanating from my own religious community was a conscious one: I believe that in order to possess any moral standing, a committed Muslim must make his unflinching opposition to terrorism known openly and unapologetically. In my mind, the world Muslim community must fashion an articulate anti-terrorism discourse that will not only pay homage to the Islamic tradition, but also enable it to discuss the many legitimate grievances of Muslims throughout the world without being accused of acting as accomplices to terrorism. It has become obvious that branding as a “terrorist sympathizer” even the most committed Muslim peace activist has been remarkably effective in silencing morally conscientious Muslims who are critical of Western foreign policy.

The recent 600-page legal opinion issued by the internationally renowned Pakistani scholar, Tahir ul-Qadri, condemning terrorism and suicide bombings without qualification, represents the most comprehensive Islamic condemnation of the unlawful useful of political violence to date. I regard this as a highly positive development, one that I hope constitutes only the beginning of a revival of Islam’s great humanistic tradition and renders silent those bent upon portraying Islam as a violent “political ideology.” Nevertheless, it would be an abdication of one’s basic moral responsibility to condemn only the terrorist acts of Muslims while remaining silent in the face of the daily state terrorism that is visited upon Muslims, and non-Muslims, throughout the world. Elementary fairness and justice demand that terrorism in all its manifestations be condemned without caveat, regardless of the perpetrator or victim.

How, then, does one make sense of the recent violence that claimed the life of 22 people in Afghanistan, including seven UN workers? The surface explanation has been that the madness was carried out in purported opposition to the desecration of the Qur’an by a lunatic church in Florida. While superficially correct, this analysis is impoverished on many accounts, in my view. I prefer to examine vigilante terrorism from the vantage point of psychology and politics, not religion. Tariq Ramadan, one of the world’s foremost Muslim intellectuals and Professor at Oxford University, frequently discusses the “political instrumentalization” of Islam and how religion is often co-opted to justify violence in much the same way that notions of democracy, human rights, Marxism, socialism, and other secular ideologies have been invoked to justify the greatest crimes of the 20^th and 21^st century. Did not politicians in the United States, on both sides of the political spectrum, hijack the highest ideals of democracy to justify America’s inhumanities against the Iraqi people, which have claimed more than half a million lives? Were we not told that the United States was embarking upon a civilizing mission to bring “democracy” and “liberation” to Iraq, an earthly paradise not unlike one envisioned by Muslim extremists who long to enter gardens of paradise in the Hereafter? Are we to really believe that if Iraq’s primary exports were bananas or coffee that the US would have shown the slightest concern for the people of Iraq, as it did for the Christian-on-Christian violence that blighted nearly one million human lives in Rwanda? In order words, Islam is far from the only intellectual tradition that is frequently co-opted in furtherance of political terrorism. Rather than engaging in facile debates about whether abstractions like “Islam” or “secularism” countenance violence, a more rational approach, one that seeks to truly understand the motivations for political violence, must be permitted to enter mainstream political discussion. To date, every effort has been made to relegate this approach to the sidelines.

To apprehend the rage and animosity that emanates from Afghanistan, a useful thought experiment would be to place oneself in the shoes of the average Afghani. The United States is now entering the eleventh year of its invasion and occupation of Afghanistan which, according to the ABC News and other mainstream outlets, stands as the longest war in American history. That is to say, what was initially presented as a narrow mission to eradicate a fringe extremist group has become a decade-long war, with no obvious end in sight. In a recent Washington Post-ABC News poll, reported by NPR  as well as the conservative National Review, a substantial majority of Americans, 64 percent, “now say the Afghan war has not been worth fighting.” But far more relevant, since the war’s inception, polls of Afghans have consistently shown a remarkable hostility towards the United States, particularly its responsibility for countless civilian deaths, which are caused not merely by direct US bombing and military operations but also the subsequent power vacuums and instability they create, giving life to home-grown insurgencies, of which the Taliban is merely one. Indeed, even in polls in which Afghanis have expressed rare optimism, commonly championed by NATO to show that military operations are going “well,” this constant holds true. It is quite impossible to know for certain how many Afghan civilian lives have been lost but the number, by most estimates, is in the high tens of thousands. Since the first “anti-American” demonstration in Afghanistan on July 4, 2002 following the deposition of the Taliban government, Afghanis have engaged in countless street protests in Kabul, Kandahar, Azizabad, Lashkar Gah, Khost, Armul, Ghazni city, Shindand, and numerous other cities and provinces to express unmitigated outrage towards NATO and US military personnel. “Stop bombing us, please,” has been the repeated plea. The recent mob violence following the Qur’an burning is but one trigger that has prompted religious extremists to engage in criminality. Far more frequently, such violence erupts immediately following a US air raid that kills scores of civilians in which the mob makes no effort to distinguish between civilian and military personnel. (see Afghan public protests over civilian deaths).

Thus, it must be asked, should one be surprised to learn that millions of Afghanis, far from glorifying the US-led invasion as a humanitarian intervention, regard this war as a criminal intrusion upon their sovereign homeland that has left behind tens of thousands of decaying human corpses? On the latter point, in what speaks eloquently about the moral poverty of the American intelligentsia, even liberal publications such as the New York Times have not shown the slightest interest in providing careful and transparent reporting on civilian atrocities in Afghanistan. Without trivializing this debate, it is undeniably the case that Afghani life ranks low on the scale of human importance as it is virtually impossible to find an educated Westerner who has the scantiest knowledge of the human impact this war has had on Afghan civilian society.

Those few politicians who have come out in articulate opposition to the war have focused almost exclusively on its impact on American soldiers and the US Treasury, not the defenseless victims of the invasion who, in my mind, are most deserving of American, indeed human, sympathy. It must be said that Democrats have shown themselves to be as lacking in moral courage and given to nationalistic hysteria than their Republican counterparts—one ought to be very clear about this fact and remind the American people that there has been a criminal silence from the entire American political establishment regarding the human tragedy this war has precipitated. We are told that any discussion about “collateral damage” will undermine US war efforts; however, what of the tens of thousands of human lives that have been “undermined,” indeed extinguished, by this “humanitarian” effort? Do not the lives of Afghanis constitute an equally compelling moral interest that should be permitted to enter the arena of mainstream debate? Why have the anchors of MSNBC or the editorial board of the New York Times not shown the same regard for Afghani civilian life as they have for American military personnel whose casualties and injuries are reported daily, with meticulous and unfailing accuracy?

Moreover, despite the historical amnesia common to Americans whenever US foreign policy is subject to honest scrutiny, Afghanis have not forgotten the US’s deeply insidious role in assembling the most extreme religious elements in the Muslim world to fight the Soviet Union by proxy in the 1980’s. This reality is not the product of conspiracy theory, but universally acknowledged by conservative commentators as part and parcel of the US’s foreign policy in Afghanistan. Ronald Regan, while working in concert with Pakistan’s former president, Zia al Haqq, referred to the mujahideen as the “moral equivalent of America’s founding fathers,” even inviting them to the White House (see photo). In what amounts to an act of unforgivable treachery, the United States flooded Afghanistan with mercenary fighters and tens of millions of dollars in sophisticated armaments, only to abandon the entire nation the moment the Soviets retreated. How many Americans are aware that fully two million Afghanis were killed during this US-Russian gamesmanship and the ensuing power struggle it created? No matter how emphatic apologists in the West are about the America’s benevolent role in Afghanistan, the scale of violence and schism the US has sown in the country is almost incomprehensible and should disturb every patriotic American to his and her very core. Do not Afghanis have every reason to feel extreme moral outrage at the United States for its repeated treacheries and depredations? Why do Westerns expect Afghanis to exhibit almost super-human moral restraint when every facet of their life has been violently intruded upon by the world’s leading superpower?

Add to this tragic history, the lack of access to accurate news reporting, an illiteracy rate than hovers around 65 percent, and the crises in Iraq, Palestine, Chechnya, Kashmir, and indeed much of the Muslim world—should one be surprised to see eruptions of mob violence such as the one we witnessed this week? Was this really about the “violent character” of Islam or rather a political resistance that has co-opted “Islam” to give meaning and metaphysical purpose to its struggle? Have not Marx’s godless writings and other secular systems of thought been co-opted to service even greater inhumanities during the past one hundred years? Shall we really spend our time tallying up the number of dead bodies committed in the name of Islam versus secular (or Christian) ideology? It is a remarkable irony that right-wing commentators in the West and many purportedly secular elements in the Muslim world have entered into a rather unholy union by insisting upon focusing exclusively on the element of religious extremism as opposed to the political environment in which this criminality has been allowed to be fester. Why were Afghanis lavishing praise, rather than beheading, American diplomats in the 1980’s—were they not reading the same Qu’ran, after all?

The case is Palestine is equally instructive: if violence and political terrorism are inherent to Arab and Muslim culture, why do we find almost no examples of suicide bombers who descend from Israel proper (i.e. within the Green-Line)? Having consulted with Mouin Rabbani, one of the world’s leading experts on Israel, Palestine and political terrorism, I learned that in the last eleven years, since the second intifada first erupted, we find exactly one instance of an Israeli-Arab suicide bomber, and even here the circumstances are shrouded in mystery. In other words, it is those Palestinians living in the midst of occupation, death, and destruction, who have politicized Islam and resorted to vigilante terrorism to resist Israeli brutality. Why have their Arab Muslim brethren, living next door and who profess the same Islam, read the same Qur’an, and claim the same reverence for same Prophet Muhammad, not resorted to terrorism? The answer is obvious: one group finds itself living under a brutal military dictatorship while the other a thriving industrialized nation.

Despite this week’s horrors, the people of Afghanistan should be collectively honored for the remarkable patience and human dignity they have exhibited for more than three decades. I remain firm in my belief that introspective self-criticism must be reciprocal. Muslims must continue to remind not only those within their own ranks, but the world community, of Islam’s uncompromising opposition to terrorism. Their faith demands as much, and no matter how much they suffer, I pray that Muslims will not allow the perpetrators and apologists of state terrorism to push them into a moral sewer. But to ignore the terrorist crimes of state actors, whose combined violence makes vigilante aggression look like child’s play, is itself a gross dereliction of duty. There will be those who insist upon portraying Muslims, no matter how unqualified their opposition to terrorism, as subversive political opportunists. But Muslims must pay no mind to them and remain firm in their moral obligation to condemn violence and injustice wherever it exists in the world, whether from within their own ranks, or without.

But it must be asked of the apologists for state terrorism, “why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own?” (Matthew 7:3).

Were Imam Ghazali and Ibn Taymiyyah So Different, After All?

One of the most well-known Islamic websites in the West is operated by a gentleman by the name of Masud Ahmed Khan (http://www.masud.co.uk/). Khan’s site provides a rich repository of insightful articles by English-speaking Muslim intellectuals such as T.J. Winter and Nuh Keller. I have great reverence for Winter and Keller as both have played an instrumental role in enabling young Muslims to rediscover the power, beauty, and sublimity of Islam. Indeed, the title of my website was inspired by Winter’s invocation of Shakespeare’s famous adage, “Blood is No Argument.” I regard Professor Winter as among the most important and influential thinkers in modern Islam. Keller himself is the translator of an outstanding compendium on Islamic law, entitled, “Reliance of the Traveller,” from which I have derived considerable benefit.

Without wanting to revive the rather tiresome controversy between “Salafi” and “madhabi” Islam, I would like to say a few words about an issue of the highest practical significance insofar as it pertains to questions of Islamic tolerance and unity. The controversy between Salafi and madhabi Islam is arguably the most divisive internal conflict within Western Islam. Thankfully it remains a largely intellectual (i.e. non-violent) conflict, but nonetheless engenders profound feelings of enmity between the two camps. Among both Salafi and madhabi Muslims there exist many sincere believers who strive to emulate the Prophetic example with honor and reverence. Thus, what I wish to say applies exclusively to what I will term “partisan Salafis” and “partisan madhabis.” In spite of the wealth of valuable information Khan’s website provides, the articles contained therein are frequently employed as intellectual weapons by partisan madhabis who are fond of branding Ibn Taymiyyah, his students, and essentially all Salafi Muslims as misguided. Unfortunately, many of Keller’s essays, along with other articles on Khan’s site, include explicit negative references to Ibn Taymiyyah, Ibn Qayyim Al-Jawziyya, and their “Salafi” successors, which has contributed to a climate of division and mistrust. My intention here is to present a balanced picture, to show that both sides must be circumspect in condemning their detractors in such categorical language. Even more, neither partisan Salafis nor madhabis should disparage the great scholars of pre-modern Islam, of which Imam Ghazali and Ibn Taymiyyah are undoubtedly two. Bear in mind that I make no attempt here to address any particulars of Islamic theology and doctrine, which are highly complex issues that have been the source of controversy going back to medieval Islam and beyond. They are outside the compass of my understanding.

I have made my strong opposition to partisan Salafi Islam known in several public posts (see “False Conservatism and the Case for Moderation“) and thus my loyalties are emphatically not partial to any one side. Nevertheless, it seems to me that on ritual matters of Islamic jurisprudence the positions of Salafi Muslims, who draw from all four schools of Islamic law, are often better supported by textual evidence and legal reasoning than their madhabi counterparts who insist upon adhering to a single school of jurisprudence–the rational basis for rigid adherence to one school has never made sense to me. In my mind, the main criticism that may be leveled against partisan Salafism is that it insists that its positions on Islamic law and doctrine are the only correct ones and consequently tends to be highly intolerant of views that depart from its framework, particularly on issues such as the understanding God’s Attributes and Islamic jurisprudence. Moreover, partisan Salafis appear to have a rather antiquated understanding of the Islamic penal code (i.e. death penalty, blasphemy laws, punishment for theft, etc.), not recognizing that practices that had a normative character in the pre-modern world maymake little sense to apply in the modern context, even from the vantage point of conservative Islamic law. Although these are major defects in my mind, Salafis often have noble and endearing traits. Perhaps if Salafism exhibited a greater degree of tolerance and employed a more flexible jurisprudence, it would stand as a formidable intellectual force within modern Islam. It remain on the fringes of contemporary Islamic thought largely on account of self-inflicted wounds, it seems to me. But what about their madhabi counterparts who appear to have more mainstream acceptance? My strong belief is that partisan madhabis manifest characteristics that are altogether identical to the partisan Salafis they denounce.

Not satisfied with the hysterical denunciations of Nuh Keller on several prominent Salafi websites, I spent many long hours in my university library as an undergraduate researching Ibn Taymiyyah, Imam Ghazali, Asha’rite theology, Hanbalism, and related matters. What I discovered was rather astonishing: the views of numerous respected and towering figures in Western scholarship stood in diametric opposition to those espoused by Keller and other contributors to Khan’s site (see below for documentation). In short, these scholars argued that Imam Ghazali and Ibn Taymiyyah were essentially mirror reflections of one another and that neither subscribed to Asha’rite theology. This near-wholesale rejection of Asha’rite thought in favor of a more Hanbalite understanding was thought to represent the proper position of classical Islam in the minds of Western scholars. I presented my findings to Keller by way of Masud Ahmed Khan in an e-mail several years ago, but did not receive a response. My genuine love and esteem for Keller notwithstanding, it is undeniable that partisan madhabis, many of whom attend Zaytuna Institute seminars and cite the authority of Keller, Winter, Hamza Yusuf, Imam Ghazali, Imam Nawawi and others, insist that madhabi Islam and Ash’arism represents “traditional Islam as practiced by every Muslim scholar going back to the Prophet (sws),” or some variation thereof. Moreover, they are quick to brand Salafi Muslims as backward, heterodox, anti-intellectual, and even “modernist” in their approach to Islam.

Unfortunately, most of these partisans have not undertaken anything approximating an impartial survey of Islamic history and theology. Rather, they uncritically recite what Keller and others have written, often in a manner altogether similar to partisan Salafis who disseminate incendiary essays found on Salafi websites. In short, partisan madhabis maintain that Ibn Taymiyyah’s scholarship was rejected by the consensus of the classical Muslim scholars and that Ash’arite and, to a lesser extent Muturdi, theology represent the correct formulation of Islamic doctrine. In so doing, partisan madhabis have adopted a “my scholar is better than yours attitude” vis-a-vis Imam Ghazali and Ibn Taymiyyah, thereby perpetuating the rather shameful habit of treating Muslim scholars like football teams. It is important to note that Hamza Yusuf and Zaid Shakir have consistently come to Ibn Taymiyyah’s public defense and, so far as one can tell, have rarely uttered an unkind word about him. Hamza Yusuf has consistently shown himself to be a man of the courage and principle committed to genuine Muslim unity—a sample of his views on Ibn Taymiyyah may be found in this video lecture. Furthermore, consider the following quote by his friend and colleague at Zaytuna College, Zaid Shakir. In his essay, “The Changing Face of Secularism and the Islamic Response,” Shakir writes:

In the West, we will have to prevent the emerging “Traditionalist-Salafi” division from becoming a fundamental, irreconcilable split. One way to do this is to define Ahli al-Sunnah w’al-Jama’ah as broadly and as inclusively as possible, instead of the narrow, exclusive definitions, which dominate current discourse. One such definition is provided by Tahir al-Bagdadi (d. 429 AH) in his book, al-Farq bayn al-Firaq(The Difference Between the Sects). He mentions Ahl al-Sunnah w’al-Jama’ah as being comprised of eight basic groups. These groups accommodate all of the orientations, which serve as the basis for the thought of informed Traditionalists and Salafis.

In light of the foregoing, it is clear that Hamza Yusuf and Zaid Shakir have explicitly distanced themselves from the more narrow conceptions of madhabi Islam that are currently in vogue. Where, then, is the evidence that the views of partisan madhabis do not align with objective Islamic scholarship and history? Below I’ve provided a small sample of my research. Note that the quotes that follow issue from the among the most revered sources on Islam in the West: George Makdisi, William Montgomery Watt, Henry Laoust, Donald Little, and Ignaz Goldziher. Only the latter may be construed as having anything approximating an anti-Islamic bias. Edward Said, who seemed to dismiss virtually all Western scholars on Islam and the Arab people as given to the “Orientalist” enterprise, was famously critical of Goldziher. Notwithstanding Said’s cynicism, I regard these scholars as fair and impartial authorities—perhaps more impartial than partisan Salafis and madhabis who have a strong incentive to ignore evidence that runs contrary to their respective positions.

Consider first Keller’s position in juxtaposition to Makdisi and Donald Little. Keller writes:

“By the standards of all previous Ahl al-Sunna scholars, it is clear that despite voluminous and influential written legacy, ibn Taymiya cannot be considered an authority on tenents of faith (‘aqida), a field in which he made mistakes profoundly incompatible with the beliefs of Islam, as also with a number of his legal views that violated the scholarly consensus (ijma) of Sunni Muslims.”

Citing the Hanafi scholar Muhammad Zahid al-Kawthari, Keller again writes:

“Whoever thinks that all the scholars of his time joined in a single conspiracy against him from personal envy should rather impugn their own intelligence and understanding, after studying the repugnance of his deviations in beliefs and works, for which he was asked to repent time after time and moved from prison to prison until he passed on to what he’d sent ahead.”

Now contrast Keller’s stance with Professor Donald Little’s view on the attitude of classical Muslim historians toward Ibn Taymiyyah (emphasis added):

“Without exception, all of the historians, no matter what their position, training, and specialization show a distinctly favorable attitude toward Ibn Taymiyyah’s words and deeds. So far as has been determined, only al-Dhahabi, Ibn Rajab, and Ibn Hajar record anything at all which might be construed as an uncomplimentary interpretation of Ibn Taymiyyah’s character and activities, and the instances of this are rare even with these three authors. Al-Dhahabi, in fact, speaks of him as farid al-‘asr’, ‘the like of whom he had not seen.”

“For example, Al-Dhahabi claims that the Shaykh (Ibn Taymiyyah) had partisans from ‘the Ulama and virtuous persons among the army and the amirs, the merchants and notables (kumara), and that all the common people loved him because he stood up for their welfare, night and day, by his tongue and his pen…..Who were these enemies? In this particular instance, they were obviously other Syrian Ulama who were jealous of Ibn Taymiyyah’s prestige with the ranking Mamluk office of Syria…As for other groups or classes of enemies, Ibn Kathir specifies the fuqaha, who, he says, were jealous both of Ibn Taymiyyah’s prestige and his piety…Nor is it difficult to understand the envy and jealously attributed to his Ulama colleagues. Not only did he move in powerful company and influence the leaders of the state, his opinions were widely sought and forcefully expressed.”

On the question of Islamic doctrine, Keller states the following regarding Ashar’ite thought:

The Ash‘ari school and Maturidi schools have represented the ‘aqida or “tenets of belief” of the majority of Sunni Muslims for more than a thousand years.”

However, George Makdisi, “acknowledged on a world-wide scale as one of the greatest Arabists and Islamicists of his generation” presents a view altogether different. Consider several excerpts (emphasis added):

In this paper I hope to show also that from Shafi’i and Ibn Hanbal to Ghazzali and Ibn Taimiya, a traditionalist religious movement, fundamentally Islamic, fought for the catholicity of Islam against the elitist exclusivism of kalam, first in its Mu’tazilite, then in its Ash’arite versions.

How then did we arrive at the notion that Ghazzali was an Ash’arite theologian? The notion was conceived in the nineteenth-century studies, especially in that of von Mehren, based on the Tabyin of the Ash’arite propagandists Ibn ‘Asakir.”

I am aware that this conception of Ghazzali as a Shafi’ite without being an Ash’arite will come as a surprise to many. However, we are brought to it not only by Ghazzali’s own words, which should be sufficient, but also by the attitude of Subki as well as that of Ibn Taimiya.

To sum up: the place of Ash’arism in the historical development of Muslim theology has been allotted an exaggerated importance. Whenever this happens in the writing of history, something else is sure to suffer in the process. And the loss, in the final analysis, is our own. The place of traditionalism in the history of Muslim religious thought has been minimized, and its importance overlooked.

Consider W.M. Watt’s position (emphasis mine):

It was only with the growth of interest in Hanbalism stimulated by Henri Laoust that this identification [of the dominance of Asharitie thought] was seen to be inadequate. Under the inspiration of Laoust, George Makdisi published an article in 1962 entitled ‘Ashari and the Asharites in Islamic Religious History’. In this he called attention to the fact that Western Islamists had relied almost exclusively on Asharite sources. This began with the publication in London in two volumes (1842, 1846) of ash-Shahrastani’s work on sects and religion, Kitab al-milal wa-n-nihal, followed by its translation into German in 1850/I. This was a balanced scholarly work and rightly had an immense influence on Western thinking about Islam, but it was not without some bias in favour of Asharism…[thus] the importance of Ash’arites had been exaggerated and the contribution of the ‘traditionalist’ overlooked. This conclusion is in the main to be accepted.”

That is, Little, Makdisi, and Watt present a view of Islamic history that is grossly incompatible with Keller’s positions. The two viewpoints stand in irreconcilable contradiction. One may argue that these scholars represent voices of an older generation of Orientalists that were bent upon demonstrating that Islam was given to anti-intellectualism. However, the weakness of this argument is four-fold: first, it is a matter of common knowledge that Makdisi is the author of the among two most important books on Islam’s contribution to humanism, the university system, and its profound effect on the development of European thought. See The Rise of Humanism in Classical Islam and the Christian West (1990) and earlier The Rise of Colleges: Institutions of Learning in Islam and the West (1981). Indeed, Keller and others frequently cite Makdisi’s authority favorably in their published works. Second, Watt is considered the precursor to John Esposito and others and is regarded even by committed Muslims as among the most balanced Western voices on Islam. One may even say Watt’s books are written with a care and exactitude that leaves the work of his modern successors appearing rather amateurish. Third, even if it is conceded that these voices were working in pursuit of “culture and imperialism,” as Said was wont to say, it does not follow that their findings are flawed. One must substantively refute their scholarship, which has hitherto not been done. Forth, Makdisi himself states that in advancing his position on Imam Ghazali and his rejection of Ashar’rite theology, he is challenging the conventional views put forth by his Orientalist predecessors. Makdisi is quite emphatic about this point.

I suspect that partisan madhabis will regard my criticism of Keller and others as a show of irreverence. But I hope it is not perceived in that way. I merely disagree with their non-conciliatory views on Ibn Taymiyyah and his students, particularly in light of the overwhelming historical evidence that supplants their public pronouncements. Regrettably, many Muslims have become disabused of Islam because they have been taught, either explicitly or implicitly, to keep silent when faced with a genuine dilemma between what their conscience demands and what they are told by their religious elders. But how can one be asked to abdicate one’s common sense in a false showing of respect and piety? The greater show of disrespect, in my mind, would be to remain quiet while allowing intellectual confusion to pervade within oneself.

Thus, the question that must be put to Keller and others is: if Ibn Taymiyyah was ostracized by orthodox scholars for his heretical views, and if and Asharite thought represented the proper articulation of traditional Islamic doctrine since Islam’s inception, why have multiple impartial authorities said the exact opposite? (See below for more detailed quotes). Do those who dismiss Ibn Taymiyyah and his students as heretical  have an intellectually robust response to these findings? Perhaps most importantly, will the partisans in the mahabi community cease in their disparagements of Ibn Taymiyyah and those who choose not to follow the precise contours of Asharite theology? Indeed, the absence of tolerance in modern Islam is a two-way street and cannot be laid exclusively at the feet of partisan Salafis.

My decision to present this research publicly was prompted by a very practical consideration: to quell a major source of unnecessary internal controversy within contemporary Islam. The present controversy has resulted in a sharp ideological divide among Muslims as evidenced by the abundance of Salafi and madhabi websites devoted to partisan denunciation. Alas, it must be said that partisan madhabis suffer from the very attitude of condescension and self-adulation that they rightfully condemn in their Salafi counterparts. As I see it, a greater show of tolerance and open-mindedness, of the sort championed by Hamza Yusuf and Zaid Shakir, would have a highly restorative effect upon the greater Muslim community.

I end with several additional quotations from the scholars referenced above:

Taken from George Makdisi’s paper, “The Non-Ash’arite Shafi’ism of Abu Hamid Al-Ghazzali“:

“In this paper I hope to show also that from Shafi’i and Ibn Hanbal to Ghazzali and Ibn Taimiya, a traditionalist religious movement, fundamentally Islamic, fought for the catholicity of Islam against the the elitist exclusivism of kalam, first in its Mu’tazilite, then in its Ash’arite versions. Shafi’i had inaugurated this anti-kalaam movement and given it its religious manifesto. Ibn Hanbal followed him carrying the message through to victory. Learned advocates among the Muslim intellectuals sustained the movement’s momentum down through the centuries, with Ibn Hazm, Ghazzali, and Ibn Taimiya being perhaps the most famous among them. These jurisconsult-theologians, in spite of their many differences of opinion, have surprisingly many thoughts and traits in common, including their attitude towards kalam-theology, and their profound admirations for the Fathers of Islam (Salaf), especially Shafi’i and Ibn Hanbal.

“To my knowledge, Ghazzali never once refers to himself as an Ash’arite. Indeed, all signs indicate a different direction. It does not help to say that Ghazzali never once denied affiliation with Ash’arism; for it may also be said that he never affirmed such an affiliation. On the contrary, there is a good reason to doubt it.”

“How then did we arrive at the notion that Ghazzali was an Ash’arite theologian? The notion was conceived in the nineteenth-century studies, especially in that of of von Mehren, based on the Tabyin of the Ash’arite propagandists Ibn ‘Asakir.”

“I am aware that this conception of Ghazzali as a Shafi’ite without being an Ash’arite will come as a surprise to many. However, we are brought to it not only by Ghazzali’s own words, which should be sufficient, but also by the attitude of Subki as well as that of Ibn Taimiya. We are convinced by Subki’s less than enthusiastic attitude towards Ghazzali, by his thinly veiled criticism of the Ihya, by the capital fact that he refuses to accord to the Iqtisad the qualification of a work on theology according to the method of the theologians of kalam…It is precisely for this attitude towards kalam that Ghazzali was attacked by the theologians of Ash’arite kalam and it is for this attitude that the Hanbalite Ibn Taimiya defended him against them. Ibn Taimiya must have recognized in Ghazzali a true disciple of Shafi’i for whom he had the greatest respect.”

Referring elsewhre to the Great Madrasa Nizamiya Makdisi writes, “Ash’arism had no place whatever in this institution.” Makdisi continues:

“For Ghazzali, it is disputation among the faithful on questions of theology that must be avoided, not disputation on questions of law. For this reason he avoids kalam-theology and all that tends to favor its development, especially dialectic and disputation. But since disputation is necessary in legal studies, he sets forth in Ihya the principal conditions that should regulate the practice of this art.”

From George Makdisi’s, “Ash’ari and the Ash’arites in Islamic Religious History”:

“To sum up: the place of Ash’arism in the historical development of Muslim theology has been allotted an exaggerated importance. Whenever this happens in the writing of history, something else is sure to suffer in the process. And the loss, in the final analysis, is our own. The place of traditionalism in the history of Muslim religious thought has been minimized, and its importance overlooked. This misjudgment arises from our ignorance concerning the Ash’arite family, as well as the traditionalist family. We saw in the Hanbalites what the Ash’arites wanted us to see: a small group of backwater theologians, pitifully pitted against the much more numerous and more progressive Shafi’ites, whom we believed to be allied to the Ash’arites. What we failed to see that the Ash’arites were opposed by the Shafi’ites themselves. If the Shafi’ites were not as vocal against Ash’arism as the Hanbalites, it was because their peculiar situation: the majority of the Ash’arites whom they opposed theologically were members of their own school of law. If the Hanbalites were more vocal, in fact the most vocal group among the traditionalists, it was because their members were not involved: they were traditionalists through and through, as well as a recognized sunnite school of law. We have taken it for granted that the Shafi’ite school of law formed the shielding armour of Ash’arism; when in reality, the majority of Shafi’ites regarded Ash’arism as a parasite, and were hard at work ridding themselves of it.”

“Furthermore, we have been misled by the Ash’arite sources into thinking that the enemies of Ash’arism were, on the one hand, Mu’tazilism, the ultrarationalists who divested God of His attributes; and on the other hand, Hanbalism, the ultraconservatives, who were plagued by crass anthropomorphism. This picture was calculated to convince its viewers that Ash’arism was the middleroad orxthodoxy. And so we dutifully became convinced not only of this, but of more, by force of implication. We became convinced that these enemies of Ash’arism were also the enemies of the Shafi’ite school of law. This took us a long way from seeing that the great upheaval between Ash’arism and traditionalism was taking place within the Shafi’ite school itself. The majority of Shaf’ites, who were not Ash’arites, harbored no hatred for Hanbalism. On the contrary, it was with Hanbalites, not with Ash’arites, that the Shafi’ites were in alliance, together with all the other traditionalists, against their common enemy: Ash’arism. The alliance was not a new one; it had been in existence since the days of Mu’tazilism.”

“The great struggle which began in the 11th century was not between Ash’arites and Mu’tazilites, nor even Ash’arites and Hanbalites; it was a struggle of rationalist Ash’arism against the overwhelming traditionalist forces of all sunnite schools of law. That is why, first in Baghdad, and later in Damascus, that stronghold of traditionalism which was the Shafi’ite school of law, proved for the Ash’arites a very hard nut to crack.”

“A theological system, in order to be sanctioned as legitimate, to propagate its doctrine, to provide for its perpetuation, had to be adopted by a legal system. Like all theological systems, Ash’arite theology was in need of such adoption. For there were no endowed theological colleges; hence, no recruiting centers for theological systems; hence, also, the “infiltration” of the schools of law by the schools of theology. This need was clearly understood by all three major theological systems of the period. Traditionalism was safely and solidly entrenched in every one of the schools of law, with the Hanbalite school acting as spearhead of the movement. From this strong position, traditionalism pitted itself against the other two movements: first, Mu’tazilism, in its efforts to infiltrate the Hanafite school of law; then Ash’arism, the object of our present concern, in its efforts to infiltrate the Shafi’ite school.”

“If Ash’arism had triumphed in the middle ages, Ibn ‘Asakir would have had no need to appeal to the Shafi’ite traditionalists in the 12th century; nor would Subki have needed to renew the appeal in the 14 century; nor would traditionalism have kept on the flourishing after it had defeated Ash’arism in Baghdad in the 11th.”

“The very existence of such propaganda as Ibn ‘Asakir’s and Subki’s is a clear indication that the Ash’arites were still struggling for recognition. For these propagandists were not representing orthodoxy interested in attracting stray sheep to the fold; they were representing a group considered to be outside the limits of orthodoxy and desperately trying to get in. Ash’arites in theology, Ibn ‘Asakir and Subki were also two representatives of the important Shafi’ite school of law in their respective periods. These two Shafi’ites were fervent believers in Ash’arism which lacked nothing but legitimacy. The bid for legitimacy in Baghdad had already failed in the eleventh century, and traditionalism had won the day. The struggle for legitimacy was then transferred to Damascus. In order to succeed, our two Damascenes, Ibn ‘Asakir and Subki, had the task of convincing the orthodoxy of their day, an orthodoxy ever clinging tenaciously to the traditionalism of the Ancestors (Salaf), that Ash’arism bore the Ancestor’s stamp of approval. Muslim orthodoxy remained unconvinced. And after the “elucidations” of Ibn ‘Asakir and Subki, two central problems remained as perplexing as ever; namely, the origins of Ash’arism and its early development.”

Taken from Ignaz Goldziher’s, “Introduction to Islamic Theology and Law,” translated by Andras and Ruth Hamori. Goldziher writes:

“Thus at the outset of his creed al-Ashari proclaims himself a Hanbalite. That does not augur a conciliatory position. Indeed, when it comes to speak of the anthropomorphist question, he heaps all his scorn on the rationalists who seek figurative explanations for the concrete terms of the holy scriptures. Not satisfied with the rigor of the orthodox theologian, he also shows himself a grammarian. God himself says, after all, that He revealed the Qur’an in “clear Arabic”; it follows that the Qur’an can only be understood in light of the correct Arabic usage. But when in the world had any Arab ever used the word “hand” to mean “benevolence,” and so on? What Arab has ever employed all those tricks of language that rationalists interpreters want to read into the text in order to despoil the idea of God of all content?

“Abu Hasan Ali b. Ismail al-Ashari says: We seek right guidance from God, in Him is our sufficiency, and there is not might and no power except in God and He is the one upon whom we call for assistance. Now then: When we are asked: ‘Do you say that God has a face?’ we answer: ‘That is what we say, in contradiction of the heretics, for it is written: the face of your Lord endures, in glory and honor (55:27).’ When we are asked ‘Do you say that God has hands?’ we answer ‘That is what we say, for it is written His hand is above their hands (48:10), and also what I created with my two hands (38:75). Moreover it is related that the Prophet of God said: God passed His hand over Adam’s back and extracted his progeny from it, and that he said Allah created him with His hand and created the garden of Eden with His hand, and planted the tree Tuba’ in it with His hand, and wrote the Torah with His hand. And it is written His two hands are stretched form (5:64); and it says in the hadith both His hands are right hands. Literally so, and not otherwise.'”

Goldziher continues:

“To escape crass anthropomorphism, he does, to be sure, insert into his creed the clause that by face, hand, foot, and so on, we are not to understand members of a human body, that all this is to be understood bila kayfa, without asking how (Sec. 6 above). But to add this class is not to mediate; for traditional orthodoxy had held the same view. This was no mediation between Ibn Hanbal and the Mu’tazila; this was–as we could see from al-Ashari’s prefatory declaration–the Mu’tazilite renegade’s unconditional surrender to the standpoint of the traditionalists’ inflexible imam and his followers.”

Upon quoting an Asharite exegete who goes to great lengths to avoid non-metaphorical  interpretation, Goldziher writes:

“Thus it was not excessive on my part to call the efforts brought to bear on this short saying a sampler of exegetical violence. The theologians who made these efforts were not Mu’tazilites, however, but Ash’arites of the purest water. One can imagine the philological wrath the founder himself would have poured out on the heads of his followers.”

Speaking about early Islam’s general aversion to kalam-speculation, Karen Armstrong writes in her book, Islam: A Short History:

“The Qur’an has a negative view of theological speculation, which it calls zannah, self-indulgent whimsy about ineffabe matters that nobody can acertain one way or the other.”

Taken from W. Montgomery Watt ‘s “Islamic Philosophy and Theology“:

“Before giving an account of some of the leading figures in the Ash`arite school it will be helpful to say something about the difficulty of seeing the Ash`arites in an adequate perspective. For long Western scholars tended to identify Ash-arism with theological orthodoxy. It was only with the growth of interest in Hanbalism stimulated by Henri Laoust that this identification was seen to be inadequate. Under the inspiration of Laoust, George Makdisi published an article in 1962 entitled ‘Ashari and the Asharites in Islamic Religious History’. In this he called attention to the fact that Western Islamists had relied almost exclusively on Asharite sources. This began with the publication in London in two volumes (1842, 1846) of ash-Shahrastani’s work on sects and religion, Kitab al-milal wa-n-nihal, followed by its translation into German in 1850/I. This was a balanced scholarly work and rightly had an immense influence on Western thinking about Islam, but it was not without some bias in favour of Asharism.”

He continues:

“Towards the end of the century two other works, both Ash’arite, came to be used for the later history of the school. These were the biographies of Asharite theologians by Ibn Asakir (d.1175) and the biographies of Shafite jurists by as-Subki (d.1370). Makdisi pointed out that both of these, despite an appearance of objectivity, are skilled apologetic works whose aim was to get Asharism acknowledged as having a right to exist within the Shafite legal school. In all legal schools there were ‘traditionalists’ majorities bitterly opposed to kalam or rational theology. The article concluded that the importance of Ash’arites had been exaggerated and the contribution of the ‘traditionalist’ overlooked.This conclusion is in the main to be accepted, and an attempt will be made here to preserve a balance between the various groups of theologians.”

Physical Beauty and Its Effect Upon Human Psychology: A New Yorker’s Perspective

As an undergraduate in college I developed an almost pathological curiosity about physical beauty and the way in which it affected one’s life experience. To satiate my desire to know more about the attribute of which Aristotle wrote, “beauty is the best introduction,” I purchased a book by Nancy Etcoff, at the time a post-doctorate fellow at MIT, entitled “Survival of the Prettiest.” In her study, Etcoff delved into the subject of human beauty with a depth and subtlety that seemed unprecedented.

Although it’s been several years since I have revisited the book, I recall that Etcoff cited study-after-study that demonstrated that attractive people were conferred advantages in life that had a material impact upon their happiness, social success, and professional well-being. By now, conclusions of this sort are mere truisms, and one cannot go a day without reading a prominent academic study discussing beauty and its salutary effect upon the human experience. Indeed, New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd appears to have an unwholesome obsession with the subject, so much so that she manages to interject bizarre commentary on beauty and sex into virtually every realm of human existence, including Middle East politics.

One study Etcoff referenced stands out in my mind. She described a scenario in which two groups of subjects, one “attractive” and the other “unattractive,” were individually called into a board room on the belief they were interviewing for a job. Each person was made to wait in an empty room, and the reactions of both sets of individuals were then observed. The study found that the attractive subjects quickly became irascible and impatient, demanding to know where the interviewer was and insisting that they did not have time to endure unnecessary wait. By contrast, the unattractive subjects largely remained docile and patient and failed to exhibit the sort of hotheadedness shown by their more attractive counterparts. Various explanations can be posited for the contrasting reactions, but my immediate impression was that because the attractive subjects had been lavished with  attention and adoration throughout their lives, they were not accustomed to being inconvenienced in the slightest (imagine a runway model at an upscale New York nightclub who refuses to wait her customary “turn in line” for the restroom). Conversely, I reasoned that the unattractive individuals had been often shunned and deprived of affection and thus grown used to enduring disparate treatment. Etcoff pointed to a second study whose results were far more banal: when an attractive woman is stranded on the road seeking assistance, passers-by will immediately yield right to render help, while a less attractive woman is often left to fend for herself, or must endure significant wait, before she is be cared for. Rather shameful discrimination, to be sure.

Of course, one must not get carried away with these studies as they involve highly subjective judgments about what constitutes an “attractive” vs. “unattractive” person. Moreover, questions may be raised about whether a multitude of variables were properly controlled for, whether the sample size was large enough to base conclusive theories about the contrasting responses and reactions, etc. These cautionary notes notwithstanding, perhaps all of us can intuitively appreciate the point Etcoff was trying to convey, namely that individuals are treated differently, and hence often act differently, based on how others perceive and judge their level of attractiveness. Etcoff calls this phenomenon of disparate treatment “lookism.” For whatever reason, I am not fond of this term, so I shall instead call it “beautism.” However one may characterize it, it is a mentality for which I have developed a profound revulsion, one that I regard as being comparably insidious to racism, sexism, and other forms of discrimination. I should note that the comments that follow certainly do not apply to all individuals. However, I do believe that beautism is sufficiently pervasive phenomenon to warrant a national conservation.

My personal observations going as far back as I can remember confirm the ubiquitous nature of beautism. Several years ago I came across an editorial photo of Monica Bellucci that I have not since forgotten. Bellucci is dolled up in a highly attractive pose, her face wearing a stoic expression, with cigarette dangling from her mouth. She is surrounded by several well-dressed men, each of whom is rushing to be the first to light her cigarette. If this were a real life scenario, despite being quite aware that he will likely receive no reciprocal benefit for lighting Bellucci’s cigarette, each man is so enthralled by the sheer force of her physical beauty, that he suddenly becomes a selfless being. Go to any exclusive New York venue and one will see men falling over themselves to attend to a beautiful woman’s most trivial need. Again, shameful and highly irrational behavior.

Indeed, I sought to resist this very mentality when I took a job one summer as a theater usher in an upscale Chicago suburb. My job was to welcome patrons with the following greeting: “Hello. Welcome to Lowes Theatre, theater 12 on your right, enjoy the show.” Often young junior high and high school kids would approach me and ask if they could enter without paying (the more audacious ones would enter surreptitiously, without my permission, which I respected). At the time a young idealist, I was quite happy to “hook people up” at the expense of power, privilege, and corporate interests and was therefore most amenable to helping the young lads out. However, after reading Echoff’s book, I decided that my decision to allow or not allow one’s entry would be on the based on their attractiveness, but in a manner that was quite contrary to convention. For instance, if a girl and her friends were attractive and well-dressed, by which I would infer they were reasonably well-off, I would insist that they buy a ticket like everyone else. In short, no entry. However, if the girl or her friends were heavyset, or did not fit the conventional archetype of beauty, or were racial minorities (regardless of their attractiveness), or appeared outwardly poor, I would permit them entry without a moment’s hesitation. For those who did not fit any obvious archetype, neither obviously attractive nor unattractive, I would use raw intuition to determine if they were fit for charitable entry. To me, this policy of entry was a way of creating a sense of equilibrium and egalitarianism that had long been denied to some, and unduly lavished, on others. No doubt I made many erroneous judgments, and one may question the entire wisdom of my system of discrimination, but I considered the general motive of my actions to be quite just and benign, and do to this day. Since that experience, I have developed a rather uncompromising attitude towards “attractive” individuals who feel entitled to break customary rules on account of an expectation that others will reflexively submit to their purported beauty. Indeed, I feel perfectly justified in creating a public nuisance when an attractive woman (or self-absorbed man) lacks basic social graces, including refusing to wait their turn in line.

Unfortunately, even grown adults in positions of influence and authority over young people, including teachers, allow themselves to become raptured by physical beauty in a way that sets an awful example to the young. Teachers often favor who they regard as the more likeable or beautiful child, a fact that does not go unnoticed by the child’s peers and invariably sows deep jealousies and animosities in the hearts of school children. In the professional work place, brilliant men who hold advanced degrees from the world’s most prestigious universities allow beauty to influence hiring and promotional decisions in a way that speaks far more about their sexual frustrations than the merits of respective candidates. In my city of New York, particularly the more “elite” circles of obscene wealth and fashion, one will find that people will lie, slander, cheat, abuse, and indeed subject themselves to the most dizzying feats of humiliation, all in an effort to endear themselves to the “rich and beautiful.” Moreover, I find that individuals most preoccupied with “celebrity gossip” are often those whose actual experience life is in diametric opposition to the life of sex, money, and beauty they so desperately covet. In other words, such individuals lust after a lifestyle and beauty they do not possess and thus find vicarious comfort in monitoring the lives of others who have consummated their ideal.

Facebook also serves as an excellent illustration of beautism: a friend request is sent to a “beautiful” person with whom the requester has scarcely exchanged a word; to showcase one’s popularity and prestige, pictures are posted with one standing alongside a beautiful person whose combined interaction with the poster does not exceed thirty seconds; wall posts and “happy birthday” messages are plastered on an attractive person’s wall who the writer met once, two years ago, in the confines of a poorly-lit nightclub; “status updates” are written in which people advertise their every movement, gloating about their entrance into exclusive venues, or their physical proximity to a celebrity who knows, or cares, nothing of their existence. And ad infinitum.

Ironically, individuals who are exceptionally beautiful are often less preoccupied with physical beauty and social standing. Rather, it those who are on the cusp of beauty or popularity, or sometimes downright unattractive, who employ a gladiator-like approach to enhance their social standing. Those whose beauty is obvious and unquestioned are admired through no conscious effort of their own and thus have little incentive to employ sinister tactics to “get ahead.” I was conscious of this fact in high school where I noticed that the students most preoccupied with the idea of becoming “popular” would indulge in the most contemptible behavior, often at other peoples’ expense, to endear themselves to their more popular peers. I regarded these individuals as the worse of all. Time Magazine recently reported on the findings of a five-year study at the University of California-Davis that confirms this very point (“Why Kids Bully: Because They’re Popular“).

Children who are shunned for the perceived unattractiveness, and called “ugly,” “disgusting,” “loser,” “faggot,” and indeed every hurtful invective one can imagine, are precisely those who become so psychologically traumatized that they lash out against their local communities in horrific ways, as the Columbine and Virginia Tech massacres illustrate. Read the manifestos and diaries of the young assassins and it becomes painfully obvious that they were victims of constant school-yard bullying. To protect our children against this kind of tragedy, my strong belief is that more onerous anti-bullying laws must be passed by legislators. The 1964 Civil Rights Act confers vicarious liability upon employers that allow a “hostile work environment” to exist in which individuals are subjected to extreme race or gender-based harassment. Lawmakers ought to pass an analogous “hostile school environment” statute whereby schools that allow bullying and taunting to carry on would be subject to vicarious liability of the most serious kind. The mere threat of litigation would hopefully impel the many thousands of schools that have not taken substantial steps to protect young children to implement an organized plan of action that would bring an end to this kind of child abuse.

In his essay, “What makes People Likeable,” Bertrand Russell wrote, “Unless you have exceptional beauty or exceptional distinction, the way to be liked is to make the people you meet think well of themselves.” Indeed, despite his unrivaled intellectual and moral stature, Russell’s writings continually evinced a strong sensitivity to human beauty and its effect upon the human consciousness. The novels of Victor Hugo, William Somerset Maugham, Charles Dickens, Leo Tolstoy, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Phillip Roth, Gustave Flaubert, Vladimir Nabokov, Honoré de Balzac, Oscar Wilde, and indeed every writer I have come to admire, show an uncompromising, almost bizarre, obsession with their characters’ physical beauty— “The Picture of Dorian Gray” and “Lolita,” no surprise two of the most revered works of fiction in New York “high” (low?) society, are the most extreme examples of the beauty neurosis. What, then, is cumulative effect of a culture that places such inordinate emphasis on physical beauty? In short, it leads to the deification of debased characters like Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan, while men and women of genuine intellect and moral courage are scarcely known: Arundhati Roy, Phyllis Bennis, Hanan Ashrawi, Hannah Arendt, and others. How many young girls have heard the name of any one of these remarkable women? The sad reality is that, in contrast to other forms of discrimination, beautism is a taboo subject, one that receives scant attention in social commentary on account of its gross political incorrectness and “subjective” character. However, if we hope to ameliorate this social disease, it will take a disciplined effort to undo a lifetime of conditioning through which humans have allowed something as morally inconsequential as physical beauty to dictate how they treat fellow human beings.

I would be lying through my teeth if I said I did not derive immense pleasure from gazing upon the face of a beautiful woman. Indeed, physical beauty engenders within me an almost euphoric high that has no proper analogue in the realm of carnal pleasures. However, while beauty ought to be celebrated as a source of joy, inspiration, and indeed a paradigm of God’s divine artistry, one must not allow physical beauty to interfere with one’s sense of basic human decency. A continual internal dialogue must be had in which one asks themselves if they are treating someone favorably, or unfavorably, on account of characteristics that have no genuine moral import–race, sex, and physical beauty—or qualities that carry intrinsic human worth: kindness, intelligence, integrity, and, perhaps most rare of all, humility.

The Islamic tradition teaches that the Prophet Joseph, peace be upon him, was the most beautiful human being to have ever lived. However, it was his humility, clement nature, and God-consciousness in the face of illicit seduction that rendered him most beautiful in God’s eyes. His is an example we all might aspire to emulate.

See Part Two: Why I Chose to Write About Beauty