Following every act of terrorism perpetrated by some radical Islamist comes the inescapable debate over the
character and identity of Islam as a religion and as an ideology. Each time, left and right rework the same familiar old tropes. On one
side, Islam properly understood is a “religion of peace” and we should not let
the fanatical few distort our understanding of the world’s second most popular
faith. On the other, Islam is a “nihilistic cult of death,” the essential
values of which are simply incompatible with those demanded by a free,
tolerant, liberal society.
I am not interested here in taking a particular side in this
debate. My hope is rather to find some methodological clarity in understanding
how we should approach the question “What does Islam teach?” in the first
place. (Though my particular object here is Islam, the same sort of analysis could apply to any religion).
There seem to me to be two main answers to the question. The
first answer, which I term the “interpretive approach,” attempts to discern the
“true” philosophical and theological principles of Islam by appealing to the
religion’s history and scriptural tradition. The second, which I term the
“sociological approach,” is agnostic on such matters of interpretation, and
proceeds instead by equating the question of “what Islam teaches” with the question
of “what do today’s Muslims believe Islam teaches?”
Neither of these approaches maps perfectly onto one or another
normative assessment of Islam. Apologists and critics both are wont to appeal
to what “millions of Muslims believe,” thereby practicing the sociological
approach. Likewise, apologists and critics often invoke scriptural
evidence of Muhammad’s teachings from the Qu'ran and Hadith, thereby practicing the interpretive approach.
Nor is either of these approaches “wrong,” as they both have value if
employed in the appropriate context.
But what are the appropriate contexts? My argument in
what follows is that the interpretive approach is most appropriate for Muslim
commentators fighting over the soul of their religion and academics committed
to understanding the historical richness of the Islamic tradition. However, in
debates over public policy cultural differences, commentators would do well
to limit themselves to the sociological approach.
After all, if you aren’t a Muslim (and virtually all American
practitioners of the interpretive approach aren’t), you must believe that Islam
is a social construction the most fundamental tenets of which are completely wrong. Of course, there are better and worse ways of evaluating
and interpreting any belief system, all of which are constructions. But we must
not forget that to the non-Muslim the particular construction of Islam relies on axiomatic scriptural and theological principles which are often unacceptable. There
is still some room for interpretation—the non-Muslim is surely justified in
disregarding any reading of Islam in which Muhammad plays no role as a bad
interpretation, just as the most secular of observers is capable of recognizing
the absurdity of modern Christian theology.
But setting extreme-cases aside, it is difficult to understand how a non-believer could possibly go about the project of constructing the “best” interpretation of Islam.
But setting extreme-cases aside, it is difficult to understand how a non-believer could possibly go about the project of constructing the “best” interpretation of Islam.
In the context of political theory, Marxists, for example, may be interested in formulating the best interpretation of liberalism,
just as liberals are deeply interested in formulating the best interpretation
of Marxism. But in this context, “best” means most intellectually charitable or
philosophically convincing. Liberals too ought to develop the most intellectually
powerful interpretation of Marxism in order to take seriously the true insights
of the competing tradition. In other words, the criteria for interpreting “best” in matters of secular philosophy involve serious consideration not merely of doctrinal accuracy, but of an
external standard of coherence and truth.
This is very different from the project of interpreting a
foreign religious tradition. The “best” interpretation of Islam need not be the one that most convincingly aligns with our
independent convictions about morality or metaphysics. Unlike the interpretation
of a competing ideology, the project of religious interpretation does not aim
for “intellectual charity," which is why we ought to be deeply skeptical of any
interpretation of the “true” meaning of Islam that magically identifies a
foreign faith tradition with virtually every dictate of contemporary Western
morality. There is no prima facie reason
to believe that true Islam aligns with the ideological convictions of contemporary Western, liberal society.
Perversely, this version of the interpretive approach to
Islam tends to embody a narrow-mindedness and disrespect of a
foreign tradition. While we
are free to engage to argue about respects in which
Islamic principles are inferior or superior to our own, the implicit assumption
that proper Islam will converge on the pieties of our own post-Christian
liberal age manifests a deep arrogance toward and ignorance of the impressive
diversity of human thought.
There are some respects in which the interpretive approach
remains important and valuable. Academics (even those who take Islam’s
fundamental assumptions to be untenable), do us a service in
considering the broad range of Islamic thought in contemporary society and
throughout history. By bringing to light schools of thought that have been lost from
sight, and by carefully reconstructing past paradigms of thought that don’t fit
well with contemporary conceptual categories, they challenge us to broaden our
own thinking by taking seriously past and foreign wisdom. The interpretive project
is even more important to the Muslim, who, far more than the secular academic,
has a genuine interest in fighting for the soul of his own religion. Following
a Walzerian model of interpretation, debate
and interpretation within a common tradition is an indispensable part of navigating
the complexities of the moral life. To the Muslim, moreover, there is such a thing as a “true” Islam—a truth which inheres not merely in faithfully following from first principles and scriptural assumptions, but in manifesting a loyalty to God's plan for humanity. Winning the war of interpretation thus matters
far more to them than it ever will to non-Muslims.
But caution must be exercised by the non-Muslim
observer interested in understanding the teachings and principles of Islam. As
with all religions, Islam is not simply a set of beliefs, but a sociological
phenomenon that shapes the lives of hundreds of millions of
people. To the vast majority of Muslims, Islam is not a great exegetical debate.
It is not an academic pursuit of theological consistency, historical depth, and logical coherence. It is what they have
been taught and how they have lived their entire lives. In light of this,
the most humble, respectful way for the non-Muslim to consider the question “What
does Islam teach?” is to ask actual Muslims. It's their religion. Let’s do them the basic dignity of taking them at their word. Indeed, there is precious little that is as patronizing as a Western secular academic explaining why hundreds of
millions of Muslims misunderstand their own religion.
To understand Islam—not the great disputative tradition of
a millennium—but the religion of millions of people in the world today, let’s start by asking Muslims what they actually believe. “Muslim values” are the values representative polling tells us Muslims hold, not the values Western bourgeois elites wish that they
held. Making sense of the sociological truth of Islam might not immediately resolve
complex public policy challenges, but at the very
least, it will help Muslim and non-Muslim observers alike develop an accurate
understanding of reality.
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