Ramadan (1999) begins:
As we have indicated in our general introduction, the question of the Muslim presence in Europe necessarily requires that one has a clear idea about the fundamental teachings of Islam and also about the juridical tools which are at the Muslims disposal. This is so as to address the challenges we encounter nowadays.
(p9)
This seems to me to presuppose two possibilities: that we are capable of understanding ‘the fundamental teachings of Islam’ and that we are capable of understanding the challenges presented by ‘Europe’.
Suppose that we can challenge these presuppositions. Suppose that the ‘we’ in the last sentence above refers to the Muslims in Europe (there is also the ‘we’ that refers to the author and the ‘one’ that refers to the general human subject, the ‘unidentified other’, but this is another issue).
It is not simply a matter to looking at ‘Europe’ as if we understood what that was and then looking at ‘Islam’ as if we, if only potentially, understood what that was – and it was something different from ‘Europe’ – so that we are merely faced with the task of aligning these two elements of discourse in some harmonious way, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle which we have yet to orientate correctly.
Suppose that we are all already ‘Europeans’, but that we do not understand what that is, and that ‘Islam’ is something we are unable to understand from the ‘European’ perspective which is the only perspective available.
What would be the effects of this? Firstly, we would find ourselves in a place (‘Europe’) that we were unable to engage with effectively – intellectually, socially, personally, politically, economically, morally, spiritually – and hence we would find apparently insoluble problems on all sides, with matters becoming increasingly unstable, fragmented and confusing. Does this sound familiar? And bear in mind that ‘Europeans’ understand ‘Europe’ no better than ‘Muslims’.
Secondly, we would have no means of understanding ‘Islam’ (or any other non-‘European’ discourse) and appropriating it for ourselves other than as a theory within an illusion. Consequently, ‘Muslims’ would find themselves increasingly estranged from ‘Islam’ while multiple new ‘theories’ abound; meanwhile the non-‘Muslim’ ‘Europeans’ would be unable to understand ‘Islam’ and it would be rejected as an outmoded, medieval ‘religion’ along with ‘Christianity’. Again, not an unfamiliar scenario.
No one is yet ready to understand Islam.
To understand Islam, we, however we label ourselves, have first to understand ‘Europe’ since that is where we are coming from. When we have understood ‘Europe’, we can turn to ‘Islam’ in a real way. What we will find, I believe, is something that has not been understood within living memory except by a very few: the ‘elite’ if you will. These elite have consistently understood what we will only find out when we are able to divest ourselves of our false understanding of who we are (in our case, as ‘Europeans’). These elite appear to have always existed and are sometimes labelled ‘mystics’. Do not think for a moment however that we yet understand what that means.
Friday, 7 May 2010
Wednesday, 2 July 2008
2 views, one mistake
Descartes decided that his mind and the world were two logically distinct entities, neither necessarily entailing the existence of the other (i.e. either can exist without the other).
This assumption causes no end of problems and everything becomes uncertain and even unknowable except the fact that I appear to be thinking. It also introduces the treacherous idea that I am the owner of my mind and its contents and somehow responsible for them in an ultimately inexplicable way (for who or what is the ‘I’ to whom belong these ideas and perceptions and who, moreover, is the uncaused causer of them?)
This dualism proposes that I am the ‘subject’ of experiences of an ‘objective’ world: I am the reader of the universe.
A second fundamental assumption might be that, far from being the reader, I am in some way more the author of my world (and the world is always ‘my world’). The German for this is ‘eigentlichkeit’ or ‘mine-ly-ness’, usually translated as ‘authenticity’.
Someone who is authentic, in this sense, is someone who has accepted radical responsibility for their authorship of their own world. Not that anyone ever asks to be such an author, or decides to be; we are that inevitably. Recognising this and accepting the consequences dissolves Descartes’ problems.
Islam starts and ends here.
This assumption causes no end of problems and everything becomes uncertain and even unknowable except the fact that I appear to be thinking. It also introduces the treacherous idea that I am the owner of my mind and its contents and somehow responsible for them in an ultimately inexplicable way (for who or what is the ‘I’ to whom belong these ideas and perceptions and who, moreover, is the uncaused causer of them?)
This dualism proposes that I am the ‘subject’ of experiences of an ‘objective’ world: I am the reader of the universe.
A second fundamental assumption might be that, far from being the reader, I am in some way more the author of my world (and the world is always ‘my world’). The German for this is ‘eigentlichkeit’ or ‘mine-ly-ness’, usually translated as ‘authenticity’.
Someone who is authentic, in this sense, is someone who has accepted radical responsibility for their authorship of their own world. Not that anyone ever asks to be such an author, or decides to be; we are that inevitably. Recognising this and accepting the consequences dissolves Descartes’ problems.
Islam starts and ends here.
Thursday, 26 June 2008
Islam: growing your own
I have always thought that we in the West, in Europe, the UK, in London, will have to grow our own form of Islam.
In the past, I described Islam in the west as a green shoot which would be crushed if we tried to impose on it the full weight of a mature Islamic culture (see my ‘Establishing Islam in Post-modernity; Norwich, 1987).
This idea is difficult to understand for people who see Islam as a theoretical abstract or universal form, immutable and unchangeable.
However, ‘growing our own form of Islam’ is not an option, it is a historical necessity which cannot be avoided because this is how reality works. Very often we seem to have an idea about phenomena based on abstractions, a theoretical view, and are peculiarly blind to the act that the world is not really like this. Hold up a coin and ask someone what shape it is. They will usually say it is round; but only if the coin is held at a very specific angle will it look exactly round, so the reply was based on an abstract idea rather than an actual sense impression.
If you look around on the street in London today you will see English Islam growing. But it is growing in an informal, uncontrolled and haphazardly chaotic way. This is not wrong, it is natural. However, Islam is a human phenomenon and subject to conscious control and we can think about how to facilitate and guide the growth of this new Islam.
In this complex, chaotic, natural growth, there will be multiple influences and cross-currents: I do not see it as a linear process. Some elements of the flow will hold the opinion that Islam is an abstract and immutable system of rules of thought and behaviour which must be imposed on, firstly, oneself, secondly, one’s family and friends and, thirdly, the rest of the world. There is no arguing with this position.
There is no arguing with this position for the same reason there is no arguing with atheists – they do not submit to what we submit to.
‘Submission’, in this sense, is to accept without further argument foundational axioms of thinking. The atheist and the Islamist have submitted to a socially constructed system of thought, an ‘-ism’, which obscures a more authentic mode of being-in-the-world by overlaying it with subjective interpretations (inventions) masquerading as objective perceptions (discoveries).
This is a thoroughly confusing and false dialectic – wahm may be a good word for it.
It is tempting to say that there are no objective perceptions, only interpretations: even on the level of ‘sense data’ this would hold true – light and sound have to be interpreted to make sense; seeing and hearing are mental, not physical, events.
Notice, though, that if everything is ‘interpretation’ then there is no longer any sense to its opposite: if all phenomena in our experience are ‘subjective’, then ‘objective’ becomes meaningless. Not only that, but ‘subjective’ ‘interpretation’ also simultaneously loses its meaning.
Neither does it seem possible to retain some kind of scale of judgment ranging from more subjective to more objective, appealing though this may seem. For example, dreams could be held to be almost purely subjective, existing only in the awareness of the dreamer; but there is still a sense in which there is an experiencing subject and there are objects of experience, there is still ‘intentionality’ in phenomenological terminology.
On the other hand, what could a purely objective phenomenon be? What is the sound made by a tree falling unobserved in the forest?- as one ur-phenomenologist once inquired.
Why burden ourselves with a nomenclature which relies on two mutually defining yet senseless, i.e. non-denoting, abstract concepts?
If it is neither true that ‘everything is interpretation’ nor that we are capable of perceiving and talking and thinking about ‘objective reality’, can we find another way of thinking about Being? And how would this lead us to thinking about Islam?
In the past, I described Islam in the west as a green shoot which would be crushed if we tried to impose on it the full weight of a mature Islamic culture (see my ‘Establishing Islam in Post-modernity; Norwich, 1987).
This idea is difficult to understand for people who see Islam as a theoretical abstract or universal form, immutable and unchangeable.
However, ‘growing our own form of Islam’ is not an option, it is a historical necessity which cannot be avoided because this is how reality works. Very often we seem to have an idea about phenomena based on abstractions, a theoretical view, and are peculiarly blind to the act that the world is not really like this. Hold up a coin and ask someone what shape it is. They will usually say it is round; but only if the coin is held at a very specific angle will it look exactly round, so the reply was based on an abstract idea rather than an actual sense impression.
If you look around on the street in London today you will see English Islam growing. But it is growing in an informal, uncontrolled and haphazardly chaotic way. This is not wrong, it is natural. However, Islam is a human phenomenon and subject to conscious control and we can think about how to facilitate and guide the growth of this new Islam.
In this complex, chaotic, natural growth, there will be multiple influences and cross-currents: I do not see it as a linear process. Some elements of the flow will hold the opinion that Islam is an abstract and immutable system of rules of thought and behaviour which must be imposed on, firstly, oneself, secondly, one’s family and friends and, thirdly, the rest of the world. There is no arguing with this position.
There is no arguing with this position for the same reason there is no arguing with atheists – they do not submit to what we submit to.
‘Submission’, in this sense, is to accept without further argument foundational axioms of thinking. The atheist and the Islamist have submitted to a socially constructed system of thought, an ‘-ism’, which obscures a more authentic mode of being-in-the-world by overlaying it with subjective interpretations (inventions) masquerading as objective perceptions (discoveries).
This is a thoroughly confusing and false dialectic – wahm may be a good word for it.
It is tempting to say that there are no objective perceptions, only interpretations: even on the level of ‘sense data’ this would hold true – light and sound have to be interpreted to make sense; seeing and hearing are mental, not physical, events.
Notice, though, that if everything is ‘interpretation’ then there is no longer any sense to its opposite: if all phenomena in our experience are ‘subjective’, then ‘objective’ becomes meaningless. Not only that, but ‘subjective’ ‘interpretation’ also simultaneously loses its meaning.
Neither does it seem possible to retain some kind of scale of judgment ranging from more subjective to more objective, appealing though this may seem. For example, dreams could be held to be almost purely subjective, existing only in the awareness of the dreamer; but there is still a sense in which there is an experiencing subject and there are objects of experience, there is still ‘intentionality’ in phenomenological terminology.
On the other hand, what could a purely objective phenomenon be? What is the sound made by a tree falling unobserved in the forest?- as one ur-phenomenologist once inquired.
Why burden ourselves with a nomenclature which relies on two mutually defining yet senseless, i.e. non-denoting, abstract concepts?
If it is neither true that ‘everything is interpretation’ nor that we are capable of perceiving and talking and thinking about ‘objective reality’, can we find another way of thinking about Being? And how would this lead us to thinking about Islam?
Friday, 20 June 2008
Islam or hegemonising metanarrative?
There is a view of Islam that it constitutes some kind of hegemonising metanarrative, but I am coming to believe that this is an historically conditioned, social construct which is amenable to, and actually demands, radical change.
This is to say that Islam is commonly understood an presented as an explanation of everything which itself requires no explanation, i.e. a ‘meta-narrative’, a discourse which contains all other discourses while itself being contained by none other. A set of explanatory principles which are foundational in the sense that they are self-evident and cannot, logically, rather than simply as a matter of inexplicable fact, be proven, supported or justified by reference to more important or foundational principles outside of Islam itself.
On this first point, it is, on the other hand, common to find Muslim thinkers today who would accept concept of Islam as a metanarrative while rejecting the idea that there is no evidence and argument to support it. This is a confusion brought about by the mixing of Greek metaphysics with the semitic religious tradition and is incoherent at a certain point. It is explicitly rejected by the teachings of Islam which claim that it is impossible for human beings to understand Allah in more than a general and imperfect sense and that it would be folly to think that human beings themselves can invent a system of thought which would be able to explain, prove or justify faith in Allah.
Not a few early Muslim scholars condemned the attempt to do this, otherwise known as theology, often in very strong language. Early Muslim mystics merely found it irrelevant.
So the concept of a metanarrative is confused in itself and begs the unsolvable problem of what supports the foundations. Modern philosophy is increasingly at home with this nod in the direction of irreducible complexity, leading to a potential rapprochement with Islam, if only Muslim would recognise their own tradition as similarly somewhat less than completely black and white, either through an evolution of theology towards a more existentialist form or through a re-appropriation of mysticism in its original sense (or both, being more or less the same thing).
The hegemonising aspect alludes to the political dimension of Islam which, in the past, has theoretically, though not practically, sought world domination. Theory is not a good way of looking at things and is another paradoxical Greek concept. It is based on the Greek word meaning ‘to see’ and yet refers to what is supposed to be most invisible of all: the hidden, inner structure of phenomena which somehow explains their outward appearance.
By recognising theory as more of a metaphor of practice than an explanation of its somehow truer or more essential reality, we can free the phenomenon of Islam from the idealistic and abstract project of arriving at an absolute, universal and timeless form and recognise the importance of contextual factors in the way that Islam is expressed in different social situations without the unnecessary fear that we might risk losing the baby with the bathwater. We can change without losing our identity.
This has important applications in the area of determining the relationship between Muslims and non-Muslims and our understanding of innovation. These two key dimensions of Islamic practice held sway in very different ways during the lifetime of the Prophet, when the Muslims were a small minority against an almost overwhelming number of violently opposed fellow Arabs, the whole culture being politically and economically outside, peripheral to and unknown by the vast majority of other human groupings on the planet. And secondly, at a time when Islam itself was the, continuously unfolding, innovation.
This situation had not changed significantly by the time of the death of the Prophet, when revelation ceased his sunnah came to an end.
How we go from there to here, 21st century London, is worth thinking about.
If the concept of a hegemonising meta-narrative is theoretical and paradoxical to the point of meaninglessness, shall we have another go at re-conceiving our situation in terms of a different hermeneutic?- a different paradigm of understanding what it all might mean?
This is to say that Islam is commonly understood an presented as an explanation of everything which itself requires no explanation, i.e. a ‘meta-narrative’, a discourse which contains all other discourses while itself being contained by none other. A set of explanatory principles which are foundational in the sense that they are self-evident and cannot, logically, rather than simply as a matter of inexplicable fact, be proven, supported or justified by reference to more important or foundational principles outside of Islam itself.
On this first point, it is, on the other hand, common to find Muslim thinkers today who would accept concept of Islam as a metanarrative while rejecting the idea that there is no evidence and argument to support it. This is a confusion brought about by the mixing of Greek metaphysics with the semitic religious tradition and is incoherent at a certain point. It is explicitly rejected by the teachings of Islam which claim that it is impossible for human beings to understand Allah in more than a general and imperfect sense and that it would be folly to think that human beings themselves can invent a system of thought which would be able to explain, prove or justify faith in Allah.
Not a few early Muslim scholars condemned the attempt to do this, otherwise known as theology, often in very strong language. Early Muslim mystics merely found it irrelevant.
So the concept of a metanarrative is confused in itself and begs the unsolvable problem of what supports the foundations. Modern philosophy is increasingly at home with this nod in the direction of irreducible complexity, leading to a potential rapprochement with Islam, if only Muslim would recognise their own tradition as similarly somewhat less than completely black and white, either through an evolution of theology towards a more existentialist form or through a re-appropriation of mysticism in its original sense (or both, being more or less the same thing).
The hegemonising aspect alludes to the political dimension of Islam which, in the past, has theoretically, though not practically, sought world domination. Theory is not a good way of looking at things and is another paradoxical Greek concept. It is based on the Greek word meaning ‘to see’ and yet refers to what is supposed to be most invisible of all: the hidden, inner structure of phenomena which somehow explains their outward appearance.
By recognising theory as more of a metaphor of practice than an explanation of its somehow truer or more essential reality, we can free the phenomenon of Islam from the idealistic and abstract project of arriving at an absolute, universal and timeless form and recognise the importance of contextual factors in the way that Islam is expressed in different social situations without the unnecessary fear that we might risk losing the baby with the bathwater. We can change without losing our identity.
This has important applications in the area of determining the relationship between Muslims and non-Muslims and our understanding of innovation. These two key dimensions of Islamic practice held sway in very different ways during the lifetime of the Prophet, when the Muslims were a small minority against an almost overwhelming number of violently opposed fellow Arabs, the whole culture being politically and economically outside, peripheral to and unknown by the vast majority of other human groupings on the planet. And secondly, at a time when Islam itself was the, continuously unfolding, innovation.
This situation had not changed significantly by the time of the death of the Prophet, when revelation ceased his sunnah came to an end.
How we go from there to here, 21st century London, is worth thinking about.
If the concept of a hegemonising meta-narrative is theoretical and paradoxical to the point of meaninglessness, shall we have another go at re-conceiving our situation in terms of a different hermeneutic?- a different paradigm of understanding what it all might mean?
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