Muslims – believers caught between reason and revelation

It is often said that there is no one "Islam". Muslim intellectuals are keen to stress that there have always been many different voices throughout the history of Islam. An examination of the early years of Islamic thought provides inspiration for ways in which this diverse culture of debate, which thrived in the first centuries of Islamic history, might be revived in the present day. 

The fault line in the history of Islamic thought has always run between reason and revelation. That said, the question as to what humans can know and what they have to believe in, is much older. The book with the appropriate title Rationalität in der islamischen Theologie ('Rationality in Islamic theology') provides an overview of the key areas debated by the advocates of reason (ahl ar-ra'y) and the adherents of tradition (ahl al-hadīth) during Islam's early years. 

The debate was primarily between the rational Mu'tazila movement and the traditional Ash'ariyya, which generally upheld the authority of the clerics. Other movements, such as the Maturidiyya, Shia and mystics did however also get involved. The dispute basically centred on the question as to whether ethically correct behaviour can be derived from reason or from revelation, and which of these schools of thought should dominate the Muslim political order. 

Heated debate about free will

Considering the political consequences of such a seemingly harmless question, it is obvious why discussions remain lively to this day. After all, depending on how the Koran and the prophetic tradition are read – whether from a rational, liberal perspective or from a text-centric, dogmatic perspective – the outcome will be completely different. 

Debate about human free will was very heated: if humans are free, then they are responsible for their happiness in life. If, however, their fates are predetermined, anticipatory obedience is expected of them. In other words, they are expected to simply carry out instructions.

This explains why scholars risked their lives to examine the arguments put forward in great detail and to develop theories on the basis of their findings, revising or rejecting their narratives if and when new evidence appeared.

The classical age of Islamic thought was characterised by a high tolerance of ambiguity, despite the very real personal risks to those involved. The essays in this book show just how controversial positions adopted at the time were. 

Even before its canonisation, the Koran was subject to a range of different interpretations: those of a more liberal bent read the text very differently to those with a dogmatic outlook.

This had an impact on the subsequent vocalisation of the text and the introduction of diacritics, which alters both Arabic grammar and the meaning of a text. God's central place and the validity of the Koranic text were the only aspects not to be affected by all this. 

Different readings of the Koran

When it came to interpreting the Koran, the different stances of the various theological schools became apparent.

The question regarding which verses of the Koran are unambiguous (muhkam) and which are ambiguous (mutašabih) is the perfect example. The issue remains unanswered to this day.

Take Sura 18:29 in the Koran: "Then whosoever will, let him believe, and whosoever will, let him disbelieve." According to the traditional Ash'ariyya, this verse requires interpretation; otherwise it would have to be assumed that humans are free to make their own decisions.

The rational Mu'tazila movement, on the other hand, felt that this verse verified its own, liberal attitude. At this point it is important to mention the question of timing and contextual background (asbāb an-nuzūl).

The method remains controversial, since this verse is subject to different and even contradictory reasons or places of revelation. Rival camps, in a bid to strengthen their argument, would naturally select the contextual background relating to the revelation that best suited their own convictions. Under such circumstances determining the asbāb an-nuzūl with ultimate certainty was impossible. The weakness of the discipline is obvious and underlines the need for more reliable methods – such as the historical-critical approach.The fault lines between the Islamic schools of law run parallel to the model described above. The legal minds could not agree on so-called ahad hadith. Hadith are reports of the words and actions of the Prophet; an ahad hadith is a statement made by the Prophet that has only been transmitted by one single chain of authority (isnad).

The rational Hanafiyya school of law gives precedence to human reason (qiyas – deductive analogy) over an ahad hadith. And so in the Hanafi school of law, ahad hadith are only used in isolated cases relating to legal questions, and when they are, strict rules apply. Other schools of law, however, give precedence to ahad hadith.

In this respect, Mu'tazilites focused more on the content of the hadith, than on the credibility of the chain of authority that transmitted it. In other words, the Mu'tazilites felt that an ahad hadith should contradict neither human reason, nor the Koran, the Sunna of the Prophet, the practice of the first Islamic community, nor the unanimous views of scholars. 

The influence of political patronage on the debates

One remarkable feature of the theological discussions is the dual epistemology promulgated by the Maturidiyya. According to this epistemology, a successful life relies not only on revelation and reason for its knowledge, but also on the human senses as well.

There are potential links between this distinction and modern epistemology. It is all the more significant, therefore, that many Muslims who adhere to the Maturidiyya tend to have adopted the views of the conservative Ash'ariyya in questions of knowledge, freedom and responsibility.

It is also interesting to note how the Shia declared the rational Mu'tazila to be a Sunni theology. I believe that such attributions take place as a means of underpinning political claims and ensuring one's own interpretational supremacy.

One thing that is missing from this exceptionally important book is an article on the influence of political patronage on theological debate. After all, from the eleventh and twelfth centuries onward, the ideas brought forth by the heated debates during the early years of Islam entered a state of ossification. Yet some preachers today still insist on trotting them out, at the expense of more innovative ideas.

Current conflicts, in which religious concepts are often used for the purposes of legitimisation, require that we reformulate our Islamic principles – as was done in the past – and give them fresh emphases.

Every text reflects the standards and values of the era in which it was written. Things that were considered irrelevant back then simply cry out to be clarified today: what to do about misogynous traditions or political authoritarian statements made by the Prophet, for example? The explosive nature of such questions is self-evident. 

Doubtless, work on theological source material remains a complex undertaking. That certain contemporary conservative players dispute the progressive narratives of Muslim intellectuals is nothing new. This book also demonstrates, however, that scholars now considered authorities only found acceptance retrospectively. Seen in this light, theology is like archaeology, developing and progressing with every new discovery and re-assessment. 

The challenge faced by theology today is to offer explanatory approaches that dovetail with the claim to pluralism and academic progress.

The essays in this book are an invitation to engage intensively with the classical age of Islamic theology, taking this key era as a starting point for re-thinking the relationship between reason and revelation in today's world.

Musa Bagrac

© Qantara.de 2020

Translated from the German by Aingeal Flanagan