thoughtism.org

Part I

During a lecture given at the University of Chicago, Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Zizek suggested that to each particular religion there comes a concomitant form of atheism: e.g. for Christianity there is an antithetical but specific form of Christian atheism, likewise for Judaism there is a particular anti-Judaic form of Jewish atheism, etc. For Zizek, the apparent exception to this rule is Islam, for whom he sees no tradition of "Islamic atheism" as conceived of in his schemata, and this forms a part of his explanation to the fundamentalist crisis in Islam. I would like to make what will no doubt be considered a controversial reversal: It is in fact the Judeo-Christian tradition that does not have a true atheism, but in fact there is a purer (and older) conception of atheism in Islam.

Let us begin with a note on etymology. The concept Zizek here is referring to does not have its own unique signifier in most European languages, but is rather a compound of the negative prefix a- to the concept of "theism" i.e. a position with regards to the existence and nature of theoi or god(s). This term has a clear discursive genealogy, being primarily an interpretive afterthought in the demarcations of monotheism vs. polytheism during the protestant reformation. According to the OED, it was Arthur Golding, the famous translator of Ovid, who first used the term in 1587 in his translation of a polemic by French protestant writer Phillippe De Mornay. Even the reconstructed history of Western atheism is somewhat dubious. The so-called primogenitor of atheism, Diagoras of Melos, did not in fact deny the existence of the gods. Rather, he attempted to reveal the secrets of the Elysian Mysteries, which though scandalous does not equate with disbelief. And the connection between atheism and Epicureanism is similarly tendentious at best, as their basic theology was based on downplaying the belief that the gods were wrathful, not their non-existence.

Enlightenment figures like Hobbes and Spinoza might have been called heretics and unbelievers, but these figures considered themselves to be the true believers. It wasn't until the 1770's that you actually had public declarations of atheism, such as the case of Baron D' Holbach. Yet even by the time you reach the more explicit stage of western atheism, such as with Joseph Priestly and Ludwig von Feuerbach, their actual positions viz. belief are not sufficiently clear: is it deism with an anthropocentric twist or is it capital "A" Atheism? Which leads us to the atheisms of Marx (post-Feuerbachian), Nietzsche (neo-pagan), and Freud (scientific/Darwinian), which is clearly the tradition that Zizek considers as atheism proper. To use a Zizekian turn of phrase: Now wait a minute, don't all these figures in a sense believe in something? Doesn't Marx believe in historical materialism, the proletariat, and the chance for utopia? Doesn't Nietzsche believe in his Zarathustra? Doesn't Freud believe in the Oedipal complex and the unconscious? How is this real disbelief? And besides, if these are the figures that embody Judeo-Christian atheism, then one has to come to the conclusion that atheism itself is a novel idea invented in late modernity, and that both Judaism and Christianity had nothing intellectually inherent that would require for their special forms of atheism to exist. As Zizek himself keeps reminding us, it is not believing that is difficult. Belief, on the other hand, comes to us quite naturally, an observation that the anthropologist Scott Atran is now proving empirically. The idea of western atheism, in a sense, remains at its infancy, and hardly was it considered a category that people self-identified with until a far later period in the Judeo-Christian timeline.

Let us now go back to the question of etymology. As I have stated earlier, there is no unique signifier for atheism in European languages, but it is rather a compound of the negative prefix a- to the concept of "theism". In Arabic, there is actually a specific word for this very concept. The word is ilhad, the atheist being a mulhid, which comes from the tripartite verbal root l-h-d. This root's etymology comes from a rather unusual domain; that of cemetery management. According to the authoritative Arabic lexicon, Lisan al-'Arab, the verb lhada means to dig at the side of an old grave in order to reposition a corpse that has shifted out at an angle due to flooding, earthquakes, shifting sands, etc. The mulhid is a specific kind of gravedigger who doesn't specializes in putting the freshly dead bodies in the ground, but rather in the adjustment and maintenance of graves. In Islamic ritual, the body is buried with no coffin at all, just a light shroud in order to hasten the process of decomposition. So if the body shifts at an outward angle, what sticks out from the ground is a decomposing mess of flesh, bones, and dirt. The mulhid deals with what is no doubt a horrendous ordeal, one that does not merely involve putting freshly deceased bodies afflicted with a little rigor mortis, but ones that have been festering and decaying to a point that their presence is a noticeable nuisance to those living above. In a sense, they experience that which is perhaps most horrid aspect of mortality, not the 'absence' which is the perception of a lack of the dead person, but rather the very real situation of the rotting carcass that is our inevitable fate. It should come as no wonder why this poor fellow would become associated with the concept of atheism, because it would no doubt put into serious doubt the conception of an afterlife that is ubiquitous with most religions. It is this doubting of the afterlife that I think became the basis of doubting the existence of theoi altogether. I can imagine the question a mulhid would raise to himself: How can there possibly be a merciful, all-powerful god(s) if this is what I have to do for a living?

There is currently a heated debate over the alleged dissolution of "Progressive" Islam, a movement that was supposedly going to lead the so-called "moderate masses" towards an enlightened but robust faith that would thrive in our contemporary age. After an initial period of supposed solidarity and seemingly endless potential, this downward turn makes me want to re-think the implicitly categorical suppositions underlying that general project. When looking at the current situation of Islam with a cold impartial eye, one can clearly see that many Muslims no longer believe the same things.¹

Though this may seem as an unfortunate situation, the implications are not entirely negative. There is still a very strong element of unity. As a student of the history of religion I find no "hidden sectarianism" waiting to explode into a plethora of new religions. Rather, what could be said is there are Muslims of different persuasions and there will come a time when those persuasions will be better articulated and defined. What I wish to demonstrate is that similar to the Jewish experience in America, Islam could potentially begin to be defined in a comparable tripartite structure. Also like the Jewish experience, there will not be a "great rupture" but rather a movement towards three different points in the current Islamic continuum. What I hope to show is that unity does not necessarily mean uniformity, and that divisions that are all too real cannot be set aside for the "feel-good" factor of standing under a unified but hegemonic banner.

I will take as a starting point the thought of undeniably the leading advocate and poster-child of Progressive Islam, Tariq Ramadan. I think Ramadan had an inkling of what I am referring to when he describes the "six major tendencies" in his book Western Muslims and the Future of Islam. Under Ramadan's categorization, there is Scholastic Traditionalism (further divided into the four madhabs), Salafi Literalism, Salafi Reformism, Political Literalist Salafism, "Liberalist" or "Rationalist" Reformism, and Sufism. I found his categorization of these tendencies highly engaging, and to some degree it is a fairly accurate portrayal of some of the current differences among Muslims. However, I also found it to be in many ways to be defective. It tends to highlight some differences at the expense of others; for example, there is a full representation of the three dominant modes of Salafism, yet the substantial differences within Sufism and Rationalism are virtually brushed away in exchange for an idiosyncratic presentation. I think this is partially guided by a biased belief that the Salafi banner will be more crucial and active than the Sufi and Rationalist ones. Ramadan is surely entitled to his opinion, yet it does have its analytical limitations. At what point is a Salafi Literalist more of a Hanbali and thus more accurately in the Scholastic Traditionalist camp? At what point is a Salafi a Salafi Reformer or a Political Salafi Literalist? The distinction may be one of semantics, but it is still crucial if one wants to accurately describe the differences between Muslims. It seems to me that the three Salafi groups either blur into each other, or collapse onto the Scholastic Traditionalists. If Ramadan wanted to conduct a more accurate categorization, he should not have used such an arbitrary criteria to distinguish the different Salafi tendencies.

However, I do agree with some of his descriptions. There are figures that come to mind who are clearly Salafi Reformers such as Muhammad Abduh, and others that are Political Literalist Salafis such as Mullah Omar of the Taliban. If Ramadan wishes to indicate that these are different tendencies, and highlight their differences, then that is perfectly acceptable and indeed quite accurate descriptions for certain specific cases. However, there are larger trends that at times cut through some of these tendencies and at other times envelop them. To point this out, where would one place Tariq Ramadan in his own tendency schema? Is he a Salafi Reformer, a Salafi literalist, or a Rational Reformer? Well, in the chapter dealing with the shari'a he is somewhere between being a Rationalist or Salafi Reformer (as could be discerned by his predilection for maslaha and ijtihad) yet his discussion of riba in his later chapter places him more into the Literalist camp. There must be a simpler and more accurate way of categorization.

The conceptual structure for a better categorization should be based on a continuum between two theoretical end points: tradition and change. Now it could be argued that tradition does allow for change, or that people can change towards a better appreciation of the correct tradition. However, these endpoints should be regarded as theoretical ideal-types. ² and there is even a version of them in Ramadan where he places "text" in contrast to "reason". Now these tendencies may have interesting things to say about texts and reason, but I think a more revealing categorization would look at the persuasions that Muslims have towards tradition and change.³

The Jewish Experience in America: A Model for Islam

According to Joseph L. Blau; "Reform, Orthodox, Conservative, however much they may disagree, all agree in granting some force to Jewish tradition, and all agree in recognizing the need for change and adaptation." The difference, however, between these three groups is their readiness to change and their commitment to aspects of Jewish tradition. On one extreme, Reform Judaism was centered around the idea that the individual was able to pick and choose from the rich Jewish traditions which facets of their faith was crucial to their identity, and how to integrate them to their lives. On the other extreme, Orthodox Judaism is based on the principle that the strict adherence to the letter of traditional Jewish law is the basis of faith, and this is usually under the direction of a Chief Rabbi. As for Conservative Judaism, it is the community that decides which part of the tradition is crucial and which is amenable to change, and this is done through the careful reading and interpretation of traditional Jewish texts.
The development of the tripartite structure of American Judaism resulted from a historical progression of actions and reactions to various efforts at defining American Judaism. When enlightenment ideals began being employed in Europe, there was a rising, though limited, trend of emancipation, which resulted in a desire amongst some Jews towards a fuller integration into the larger societies where they lived.“[In] its extreme it led to apostasy, the baptismal certificate considered the ticket of admission to the world beyond the ghetto.” However, some reactions were not so drastic, and resulted in a form of “controlled change” that allowed for an adaptation of Jewish tradition for current conditions. The seed of Reform Judaism very much comes from the same intellectual soil of the enlightenment, and it carried over with the Jews who migrated to America in the 19th century. In America they found a society that was conducive to religious freedom, as well as a capacity to escape normal religious hierarchies. An observer would be “struck by the proliferation of sects which freedom permits.” At first, the Jewish community came together because of international events that caused a backlash against them, and in that short period of solidarity they founded Hebrew Union College. When the progenitors of the Reform movement tried to impose uniformity over other Jewish congregations, the Conservatives broke off and founded their own seminary, the Jewish Theological Seminary of America. Similarly, when immigration patterns started bringing more Eastern European Jews, the Orthodox faction broke off and brought in Rabbi Jacob Joseph from Lithuania to be their Chief Rabbi.

This process resulted in what Blau calls the “protestantization” of American Judaism: “The three large ‘denominational’ organizations are federations only; their powers are merely advisory, and their advice is not always accepted by their constituent synagogues…because they [individual synagogues] depend on the good will and generosity of their members.” In the end, it was the will and generosity of the congregation that could steer the orientation of their synagogue; because of the religious liberties protected by the American system, Jews could choose which synagogue that best suited their religious persuasion with respect to tradition and change. Near the end of the 18th century, the organizational prowess of the Reform, and the numerical superiority of the Orthodox, made the Conservative denomination seem doomed, as all it had was a seminary. However, the Conservative synagogues are now (if one includes Reconstructionalists) the largest Jewish denomination in America. How could this have happened? It is because in the battle of ideas for synagogue attendance, the Conservative Rabbis appealed to a broader segment of Jewish society. Since American Jews are free to go to any denomination they please, they will after all go to the one that better approximates their own attitudes towards tradition and change. And because they are the primary source of funding, they also have tremendous influence outside of denominational lines.

Let us now take another look at Ramadan’s six tendencies, but this time with respect to American Judaism. If Reform is the broad umbrella that represents the denomination that is most amenable to change—at least comparatively to the other two—then Ramadan’s “Rationalist” group would clearly reside within or close to an Islamic variant of this category. However, there is a substantial difference; under Ramadan’s category, the primary aim of this group is to secularize and assimilate into the larger western context. Under the Reform categorization, it is up to the individual which facets of the traditional Islamic corpus that would be integrated into their lives, and in accordance to their own personal interpretation of what is crucial and what is amenable to change. The emphasis here is on personal interpretation and execution of what it means to be Muslim. If that means living in a secular western context, then it is the individual’s prerogative. However, if they wish to live more in accordance to the traditional modes, they would still be in the fold of Reform if they believe that others have a similar right to religious autonomy. Change and adaptation is here is left to the individual, as is their adherence to the tradition.

If tradition, however, occupies the central role in praxis and interpretation, then an Orthodox Islamic category would be effective to describe Salafi Literalists, the political variant of Salafism, and to a great degree Scholastic Traditionalism. If the letter of the law is absolute, and its explication is the task of only those who are trained within the tradition, then I believe this accurately describes their position with regards to tradition and change. It is not absolute that the Orthodox are against change, it just means that they are the most likely to control change in accordance to their interpretation of tradition. The emphasis here is a strict reading of the letter of the law and its implementation in everyday life.

The Conservatives would be, like their Jewish counterparts, stuck somewhere between the freewheeling Reformers and the stringent Orthodox. To them the underlying concern would be the community, and what it regards as the appropriate balance between tradition and change. They would understand that within the Islamic tradition there is an internal dynamism that could solve many contemporary problems, but they would have to be actively sought through a creative process of reading and interpretation. I think the Salafi Reformers are actually closer to this category, though there are probably elements that would be more solidly in the Reform camp. This is also probably the position of some who under Ramadan’s schema would be in the Scholastic Traditionalism mold. These would be traditionally trained ‘ulema who have a very liberal outlook on certain issues, yet are not willing to abandon Islamic rulings on others. I would actually place Tariq Ramadan himself in this category because he certainly expresses some of its main tendencies; i.e. the ability to find and utilize the traditional tools that have allowed for its dynamism, such as maslaha, maqasid al shari‘a, and ijtihad. He also has a penchant for sticking to his guns on certain matters, which though at times it looks random to someone like me, it truly shows the defining characteristic of this group; to be open to change, and sometimes a lot of change, but only to a certain (perhaps socially specified) point.

It is important to stress here that I do not envision a full scale “protestantization” of Islam, but I certainly detect a movement towards that direction. I do not think there will be the same “wars of religion” as there was in Europe, but rather like the Jewish experience, émigré societies will have to struggle with questions of tradition and change, and they might end up with similar solutions. And like the Jewish experience, I do not predict that fragmentation will be that divisive, as Joseph Blau reminds us, “unity and uniformity are by no means the same.”

What does this mean for the current condition of Progressive Islam? Well, I think the implications are clear, since the ad-hoc post-9/11 solidarity was precisely that: temporary and a response to a tragic and highly consequential event. Like the Jewish experience, it will have to become the individual Muslim congregation’s choice how they conceive of what is an appropriate adherence to tradition and an acceptable amount of change. We will still have MSA futoor together, lobby our governments for the causes we hold mutually dear, but when the athaan for Friday prayer blares forth it has to be the individual’s choice if she wishes to stand behind, in front of, to the side of, or in another room entirely of her congregationalists

1. Of course, there is the implicit supposition that "back in the day" we all agreed on "something", an assertion that I find highly problematic. [back]
2. The extreme positions in this continuum are in a sense heuristic and only exist theoretically, as one cannot be always changing nor can one be so tradition-bound that they still live in the past. [back]
3. One could ask what is the difference between tendency and persuasion? For one thing, the former is Ramadan's terminology, which I think has somewhat of a reactive aspect to it, in the sense that if event A happens, X tends to react by doing B. Persuasion, in my definition, shows an inclination towards a position that may or may not require action on their part, nor is it a given reaction or reflex in a given situation such as a tendency would be. Tendency also has an element of uncertainty in it, in the sense that "They tend to do X" while persuasion shows a general disposition. The other facet is that people can get "persuaded" to one line of thinking or another, while tendencies have a biological dimension which I am afraid of invoking. [back]

Quick Fill-in: During the first and only group chat with the other members of this blog, we were a little uncertain on how to identify the group. Mona, the founder of the blog, approached me about the header in my blog, which I had initially included as as a joke e.g. previous headers were 'The Kafka Institute for the Rationally Absurd', 'Journal of Ibn Rushdian Studies of Ghazali, or Tahafut Tahafut al-Tahafut'). We talked about possibly starting something like that, she envisioned it would be a collective of like-minded Kuwaiti or Arab intellectuals on some sort of blog format. Mona invited a couple of people who she knew would be interested. After we had invested some money towards a domain and hosting service, we had our first real discussion about the content and nature of the blog. As can be speculated, it did not go too well. Everyone got entrenched in their respective positions, and even though we have a lot in common (including perhaps the inability to agree on anything), we seem to have differing views about the nature of what constitutes legitimate intellectual debate. I suggested the close reading and discussion on texts roughly perceived to be in the world of 'theory', and, well, I am not quite sure I understand why Ahmed has a problem with it.

I take full responsibility for the technical issues we have encountered, but I cannot fully program the site until our resident Artist (ahem, ahem, *cough* Mona) figures out the design. Though I hope this will not be the case, I have a feeling that lethargy is setting in after a brief moment of youthful excitement at the prospect of something happening. As I told Mona at the outset: intellectuals in Kuwait are like water droplets in a desert, if it they aren't absorbed by some harsh-looking organism, they evaporate into hot air. Here is to fag3.

I personally think this is a silly debate to be having. The thing about theory is that it is not precisely clear what it is exactly. Is it an extension of the tradition of western philosophy? In some sense, it is–yet it seems heavily invested in being 'anti-philosophical' in the sense that 'tradition' in general terms is its anti-thesis. Philosophy has become more of a discipline that is obsessed with itself, to be well-rounded in philosophy means to be well-acquainted with the history of philosophy proper from Plato to Wittgenstein. Theory, on the other hand, seems to be obsessed with anything 'Other' than itself. It is interested in Marxism, psychoanalysis, literature, culture, etc. yet it keeps its toes wet in the pond traditionally reserved for philosophy, i.e. ontology, epistemology, ethics, etc. If philosophy is the good little girl that listens to its elders, then theory is the slut that always gets into trouble. But this transgression (to use Sokal's language) does not always end up in disaster–imagine what would've happened if a certain Professor of English never dipped his toes into this dusty orifice?

I agree with your comments about the Kabbalistic element of theory, it is a tight-knit group of somewhat like-mined individuals, but for this I have my own theory. I guess it is a theory on Theory. Anyway, moving on. I like to think of theory as a discourse–it is a manner of speaking that has its specific rules and etiquettes, its interests and dispositions, but it also has its barriers of entry. Even though they at first agree on the transgressiveness of their pursuits, it is the nature of their transgression that seperates Michel Foucault from Ted Kaczynski. In fact, I would argue that if they did not maintain certain barriers, standards, or even qualifications, then I would agree with you whole heartedly that theory does not mean anything, but a fancy pseudo-intellectual manner of advanced charlatanism. For a group that thinks itself transgressive, they actually have a closed set of debates, dealing with gender, identity, power, existence, and of course, sex. But this is precisely what a lot of people are already thinking about even if they don't frame their arguments in quite the same way. This is in fact what I think is the source of frustration with theory…they are talking about things you want to hear about, but you can't bloody understand a word they say!

How one enters the Kabal is understandably a closely kept secret, but from personal fieldwork I think it involves thick-rimmed glasses, long-sleeved black shirts (preferably turtle-neck), and either immaculate grooming, or the utter lack thereof. But seriously, the conceptions are there because the followers are there, sweaty and crowded into the amphitheaters of the hyper-hip. On the cutting edge in all manner of things fashionable, the theory-roadies (or throadies) is what puts the final touches of imbuing a given theorist with that all-too-ephemeral notion of intellectual authority. So even if this is a closed discourse where the participants choose their interloculors, and the end of the day it is the hip-masses that anoint or reject the popes of this papacy. I think this makes theory the most democratic space in all of academia, can you imagine if this was how hiring would take place in mathematics?

And finally, I would like to end by summarizing my position: I think theory is a very particular kind of discourse where the criteria to be a participant is highly selective and uncertain, both internally and externally, but the conversation itself is not irrelevant to our current situation. The theorists of our time are thinking what we are thinking, they seem to be able to articulate it but we all can't seem to fully understand it. If we understand the idea immediately, then to what extent is it really an innovation in human thought? So, unless you think that all possible human thought started and ended with Plato, then you have to deal with Badiou, or whoever else is getting published these days by Zizek.

After much arguing with Saud about this, I think it is about time we (as a collective) should have a frank debate about the place of theory for this project. Let me start this with my own personal thesis: theory is what popular and established academics do when they think they are young, radical intellectuals going out on a limb. I don't necessarily think this is where theory started out, I honestly think these well-meaning, established theorists were once upon a time starving graduate students who couldn't write a thesis-statement. Its just unfortunate that this is precisely what young starving graduates can relate to, an inchoate but impassioned mess justifying their own existence by being unjustifyingly complicated. I think since this attitude resonates well with a large market, publishers give these theorists free-reign to publish whatever drivel they consider to be worthy of publication (see: Zizek publishing Badiou, Deleuze, etc.). Since these books sell well (lets face it, who buys academic books except young people who are or want to be grad students), these theorists gain more and more sway in the traditional bulwarks of Academe, especially when they fill masive lecture halls with beady-eyed dilletants. In a way, these theorists are more like a viral infection; once they invade a body, they begin to replicate themselves in slightly mutated forms, so in a sense Lacan brought us Derrida, who brought De Man, who educated Judith Butler, who popularized Foucault, then opened the door for Deleuze, etc. I don't know the actual geneology, but as everyone says this clique inaugarates a member into their clan, and then make fun of everyone else. The entire basis of the group is its exclusiveness. Not that they actually want to debate anyone (God forbid they try to make a reasonable argument) but rather to ridicule both standards and decency in the academy. I know Said seems to have been a member of this kabal, but I think the only reason they adopted him was because he was too radical for the academic establishment, which by the way he was the only one to critisize directly. I think, along with a lot of other people, that they are just merely very talented group of self-preservationists, who have found a way to cajole young intellectuals into a state of passivity and servility. When was the last time you heard that a liberal politician actually reached out for one these fakers for advice? Never. And that has more to do with the fact that what they are theorizing has nothing to do with the real world, and yet these are supposed to be the avant-garde of progressive liberalism and humanism. They can't even write us simple slogans! Or articulate an appropriate critique in a world where deprevation and greed rein supreme! If not now, in the current dire world situation, then when? Screw them all.

– Ahmed