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« on: November 17, 2008, 03:22:36 AM »
interview with Abdulkarim Soroush
Q. Dr Soroush, we’ve been hearing for some time that you’re busy studying the ideas and works of the Mu’tazilites. I wanted to ask you about the ins and outs of this.
A. I started thinking about this project a long time ago - even before I began speaking about renewing the Mu’tazilite experience - and I wanted to work on this subject both from the historical-chronicled aspect and from the analytical-rational aspect. I respect the Mu’tazilite school of thought and I esteem them highly, because they were the first group to raise the banner of rationality in Islamic culture. Unfortunately, not much remains of the works of the vanguards of the Mu’tazilite school of thought. We find their views mirrored in their opponents’ works. In other words, most researchers have referred to the books written by the Mu’tazilites’ opponents - i.e., the Ash’arites - in order to know what the Mu’tazilites were saying and, as you know, this method imposes many limitations on the researcher. Fortunately, over the past 50 years and even more recently than that - over the past 10 years - many good discoveries have been made in Yemen and in a number of other regions, and some of the authentic and early works of the Mu’tazilites have been found. Now, a group of researchers at the Frei Universität Berlin are examining and publishing these books. Sabine Schmidtke and a number of other researchers are deeply involved in this project. I’m trying to use their findings. On the whole, many doors and windows have been opened in this field, and researchers can enter it with greater ease and confidence. I, too, am trying to do my share - more from the analytical-rational aspect than the historical-chronicled one, of course - in studying the Mu’tazilites’ views.
Even back at the time when I was learning about and teaching the Ash’arite school of thought and the Ash’arites’ views on exegesis, theology and ethics, I was gradually becoming interested in the Mu’tazilites and their disagreements with the Ash’arites. This was how it happened that I chose this project. Of course, there was another reason for my interest; as I’ve said elsewhere, it was the form that the question of modernity and tradition had taken in Iran. The question of modernity and tradition has turned into a grim subject in our country. Everyone speaks about tradition and modernity as if they were closed chests, and then they try to describe their similarities and differences. I think that this is out of keeping with the analytical approach. We have to open the chests of tradition and modernity, take out their components and demonstrate the link between them. Speaking in this closed way is not going to take us anywhere. I started the Mu’tazilite project in order to breathe new life into tradition and modernity. Rereading, reconsidering, renewing and assessing the views and ideas of the Mu’tazilites and their school of thought, which are hefty components of tradition, can bring new gains, and truly show us the way both to using tradition and to extricating ourselves from tradition. This is the kind of potential I see in the Mu’tazilite project and I’m trying to take advantage of it.
Q. You said that you became interested in the Mu’tazilites in the context of the feud between tradition and modernity. But I’d like to know what your main question was in studying this Islamic school of thought. Did you have a prior plan when you studied the Mu’tazilites’ views? Was there a link between your prior views and this study?
A. Of course, this study was linked to my prior ideas. I like the Mu’tazilite religious theory and ethics, and the main reason why I like this school is because they raised the banner of revelation-independent reason and then they reflected on the nature of the relationship between these two independent things - i.e., reason and revelation - and offered a new view. This quality - i.e., the rationality of their school - is extremely valuable. I think that it’s a coin that has currency and is precious, and it can be used in the market of learning and research. So, my project is the project of rationality and I see the Mu’tazilites as fellow travellers and I try to establish a link with them.
I came across the views of the Ash’arites and the Mu’tazilites directly when I started teaching the philosophy of morality. I used to teach Izz al-Din al-Iji’s Al-Mawaqif, the classical book on Ash’arite theology. The Mu’tazilites’ views are also mentioned and severely criticized in the book. But, even through these possibly-misrepresented views, you can get a sense of some of the Mu’tazilites’ important insights and ideas. Later, I studied them more directly, especially their Qur’anic commentaries. Subsequently, it was the theory of contraction and expansion that really further clarified the issue for me. I realized that there have been two sets of presuppositions in approaching the Qur’an and exegesis - at least in the history of Islamic culture: one consisted of Ash’arite presuppositions and the other of Mu’tazilite ones. It was from this perspective that I turned to these two groups’ commentaries. For example, I studied Fakhr Razi’s Tafsir Kabir and Jarallah Zamakhshari’s Tafsir Kishaf and saw how these presuppositions were fully involved in their understanding and annotation of the Qur’an. It was at this point that the Mu’tazilites and the Ash’arites took on added importance for me. They became illustrations of the theory of contraction and extraction, and were used to explain, defend and confirm the theory. This was the first aspect of my liking for the Mu’tazilites.
From another aspect, the Mu’tazilites’ rational morality was of interest to me. As we all know, the Mu’tazilites believed in the principality of morality. In modern parlance, they believed in the objectivity of moral values and held that, regardless of the existence or non-existence of the prophets, morality had its own independent value. In other words, human reason can say whether an act is good or not. God endorses and confirms the verdicts of reason. That is to say, an act that reason considers good or bad is also considered good or bad by God. This independence of moral reason from revelation was very important to me. I’ve studied the Ash’arites views and arguments on the philosophy of morality diligently. They have some novel ideas in some respects. But they run into problems on the wellsprings of morality. Some people imagine that my book Learning and Values is Ash’arite through and through, whereas this is not at all the case. There, I have at most explained the views of Hume and a number of modern philosophers about how an “ought” cannot be derived from an “is” or how moral propositions cannot be derived from factual propositions; I haven’t said anything more than this. That is to say, the question of how moral values are discovered - whether reason discovers them or revelation teaches them to us - is an independent issue that has to be discussed in its own place. Like the Mu’tazilites, I believe that human reason discovers them as evident and can, therefore, establish a revelation-independent reason. Of course, I disagree with the Mu’tazilites on some issues. I find the Ash’arites experience-oriented or empirical, whereas I find the Mu’tazilites more Aristotelian. Of course, I’m not an empiricist in the sense that I think that human knowledge can be summed up in experience, but I’m very empirical in the sense that I’m not prepared to sacrifice science on the altar of First Philosophy. I give experience a strong and sturdy share of things, and I believe that many verdicts that should be determined by experience shouldn’t be entrusted to the blade of philosophy. I think that the Ash’arites are stronger than the Mu’tazilites when it comes to empiricism. For example, on this same question of whether an act is good or bad, the rationality of good and bad acts doesn’t mean that we derive everything from evident, a priori rationality; basing things on experience is rational too. This is a mistake that some writers make.
Q. Here, by empiricism in morality, you mean that we should take the utility of morality into account?
A. No, I’m talking about rational good and bad. Acts are good or bad based on reason. But this doesn’t rule out seeking assistance from experience and looking at an act’s practical benefits. We mustn’t assume that rationality means a priori; this is not at all the case. The reason-experience dichotomy that some people draw is an unacceptable and unreasonable dichotomy. In the views of the Mu’tazilites, I sometime see an excessive defence of a priori rationality which I don’t like; I prefer the experience-orientedness of the Ash’arites. This isn’t the place for discussing this. But in a talk that I gave a few years ago in Qom - which, unfortunately, ended with an attack by the vigilante groups - I spoke about the Ash’arites’ experience-orientedness and about how - in formulating theological verdicts - they look at actual events and occurrences in the world and do not neglect these things. Let me give an example, the Ash’arites don’t by any means rule out or deny evil and injustice in the world. They accept it as an empirical fact and this acceptance has an impact on their theology. So, they believe that God has a right to create evil and they do not try to explain it away. I’m not concerned about this theological conclusion now; but I very much admire the fact that the Ash’arites don’t close their eyes to the real world.
By way of another example, the Ash’arites believe that whatever anyone obtains is part of their God-given bounty, even if they’ve obtained it by improper (haram) means; whereas the Mu’tazilites and some other theologians try to explain these things away. I prefer the Ash’arites’ experience-oriented approach, but I find the Mu’tazilites’ rational analyses about morality, the attributes of God and about God’s word more acceptable. Hence, the debate that you’re witnessing these days which has led to a kind of clash between me and others is deeply rooted in the Mu’tazilites’ ideas. Let me also add here that I consider myself a “neo-Mu’tazilite”. I believe that the Qur’an is God’s creation. The Mu’tazilites said this. But we can take one step further and say that the fact that the Qur’an is God’s creation means that the Qur’an is the Prophet’s creation. The Mu’tazilites didn’t explicitly take this step but I believe it is a necessary corollary of their creed and school of thought.
Q. You spoke about the combined attractions of the Mu’tazilites and the Ash’arites. When you speak about Mowlana Jalal al-Din Rumi, your critics say that Dr Soroush’s liking for Rumi doesn’t fit in with the other components of his thinking. Apart from your personal liking for Rumi, what was the theoretical grounds for your closeness to him?
A. I don’t know what you mean when you speak about my personal liking for Rumi. My liking for Rumi is a liking for his thinking; otherwise, I’m not a blood relation of his or anything. I very much like and respect his ideas, approach and outlook towards praising God and his spiritual experiences. I find it a pleasure to learn about them and I try to take part in these experiences to the extent that I’m able.
As to the second point and your suggestion that Rumi is an Ash’arite, I seriously doubt it. There are some very big whales who don’t fit into the small pools of this or that school of thought. I believe that he’s neither an Ash’arite nor a Mu’tazilite in the conventional sense. He’s neither a Sunni nor a Shi’i. He’s none of these things. Tight garments of this kind don’t fit his gigantic stature. It would be best for us to think of Rumi as falling into the Rumi school of thought. I believe - and others who have read this great man’s works believe - that Rumi has extracted points from both the Mu’tazilites and the Ash’arites. And even the hostility that he expresses towards philosophers mainly stems from the fact that he feels that philosophers have set up shop outside the prophets’ shop and have created a detour, lengthening the short path to God. For example, he has a story about a poor man who is looking for treasure. He says that the man is constructing bows and arrow that make the quarry harder to catch, that he’s becoming so entangled in philosophical reflection as to be blinded to truth and that the more he runs, the more he distances himself from his destination.
So, you see, Rumi likens philosophers to people who are running but who, in so doing, distance themselves from God rather than moving closer to Him. Secondly, by emphasizing rational analyses, philosophers distance people from and make them oblivious to spiritual experiences. They close people’s eyes to insight and open them to learning. This is why Rumi sometimes opposes philosophers and philosophically-inclined Mu’tazilites. Otherwise, in the Masnavi, Rumi can present you with clear rational arguments in a single verse. For example, when he argues that God’s munificence is not based on people’s merit and that God bestows things on people regardless of merit. He said that God’s munificence was the kernel and merit was just a husk. His argument was: if God’s munificence is based on merit, then who grants the merit itself? In other words, the merit would have had to be granted without some prior merit. This is a clear, rational argument that Rumi puts forward. Of course, Rumi doesn’t want to appear in the guise of a Mu’tazilite or Ash’arite theologian, and quite frankly says: If I busied myself with questions and answers / when would I ever quench people’s thirst?
Rumi says that his task is to be the cup bearer and to quench the thirst of those who long for spiritual experience; not to entangle them and himself in theological disputes. What attracts me to Rumi is this broad perspective that he has on the world and the experiences that he had in understanding the cosmos, God and human beings. I can claim that Rumi had five or six big experiences, and that all of the Masnavi and the Divan-e Shams are expositions and interpretations of these great experiences. And these few great experiences can keep alive people’s enthusiasm forever.
Let me underline the point that Rumi, like all fallible human beings, has flaws and limitations, which we must view with discernment. If we follow great figures, we must follow their strengths.
Q. Let’s return to your research on the Mu’tazilites. I wanted to ask you whether the outcome of your research will be published in the form of a book or will we have to trace and track its impact in your lectures and articles?
A. I have no plan for a book yet. God willing, I will write various articles and publish them. Then, a collection of the articles will be published as a book. As I see things, this is a very extensive project and - if I can - I have to formulate new verdicts in at least several domains. And, to this end, I must study a vast number of sources. I hope I’m up to the task.
Q. So, it would appear that your forced absence from Iran’s academic environment hasn’t been altogether bad for you; it has provided you with a new opportunity.
A. Of course, I’m grateful to providence. Now that, thanks to the broadmindedness of Iranian officials, I’m barred from some occupations, I’m busying myself abroad and one of my activities is research. Thanks be to God, there are resplendent libraries and very learned researchers with whom I can discuss things and from whose learning I can benefit. Of course, I’m not unheedful of developments in Iran. I’d like to mention one point. Just last year alone, we witnessed two important developments in terms of publications: one was the publication of a translation of Ibn Arabi’s Fusus al-Hikam and, the second, the publication of a translation of Heidegger’s Being and Time. Both were very important, because the authors are important writers in the history of Eastern mysticism and Western philosophy, and because of their importance to our old and modern thinking. And also because of the fascination with which these figures and their works have been viewed in Iran. These translations represent hard work and determination, and, fortunately, the wellspring of this sort of hard work has not dried up amongst us. The least effect that this hard work will have is that it will demystify these types of figures. In other words, both Ibn Arabi and Heidegger will lose their halo of sanctity.
Q. Especially Heidegger, with whose supporters you’ve had many arguments in Iran -
A. Of course the truth of the matter is that, more than me arguing with them, it is they who have insulted Popper. Let me mention a point here. A historical mistake has been made. I saw this mistake both in the writings of Mr Babak Ahmadi and in the writing of Mr Jamadi - the respected translator of Being and Time - and in the things that other people have said. These people have imagined that, after the revolution, there was a quarrel in Iran between Popper and Heidegger, or between their followers. This is a totally mistaken tale and, unfortunately, it keeps being repeated. The truth of the matter is that one side, in view of its political interests, levelled some insults at Popper and reaped some rewards as a result. And if there was any argument - and there was very little - it was the same as the one that occurred in the West while Heidegger was still alive; namely, over the question of whether Heidegger had cooperated with the Nazis or not. I believe that, today, it is crystal clear that he did cooperate with the Nazis. And I saw that Mr Jamadi, with total fair-mindedness, has said in his works that Heidegger’s cooperation with the Nazis is a plain, deplorable historical fact. Where there was room for argument was on the question of whether Heidegger’s philosophy is in line with that cooperation and those political stances or not. Personally, I think that it is. As to it being said that Heidegger’s philosophy should be abandoned in favour of Popper’s or the other way around, that’s a different question. The man who led the opposition to Popper used to insult him and used to accuse him of imposing inanities on philosophy. In my view, these kinds of remarks were inappropriate in the realm of learning and discussion.
At any rate, I wanted to say that the translation of Heidegger’s Being and Time was an important and auspicious event. As I said, first, it demystifies Heidegger and the book. And, secondly, it shames those who, for years, have used Heidegger to justify themselves but have failed to translate even half a sentence from his works in all this time. And, ultimately, it’s been someone outside the university environment who has done the translation and he ought to be congratulated.
Dr Movahed’s work in translating Fusus al-Hikam is also a massive accomplishment. I’ve seen his work. He was rightly given a medal. His mastery over English and Arabic and, of course, Persian is admirable. And he’s done a very great service to Ibn Arabi’s school of thought.
Let me say something, in particular, to those who believe that the works of great figures such as these can’t be and shouldn’t be translated: Far from losing something in translation, on occasion translated works gain something. In other words, translation is a service to the author. Let me give an example. Heidegger never became Heidegger in Germany. It was when his works were translated into Italian and French that Heidegger became important. Even now, he is more important in France than he is in Germany. Others made his work more comprehensible. Ibn Arabi has now lost his aura of sanctity and readers in Iran can understand him better. Persian-speakers are in a better position to establish a relationship with him.
I believe that if, when the Qur’an first came to Iran, it had been translated into good, readable Persian, and if Iranians had also always read and studied the Qur’an in Persian, alongside reading it in Arabic, we would undoubtedly be different Muslims than we are today. The fact that the Qur’an is out of reach for Iranian Muslims and the fact that it is locked in the Arabic language has had an impact on our Muslim-ness. The translations that are now being done of the Qur’an are a very auspicious development. And the translations are increasingly good and this will have a long-term impact on our beliefs, our theology and our religiosity. We have to welcome all these things and researchers should be encouraged to translate classical Eastern and Western books into Persian. This was a project that I proposed to the Academy of Sciences which was, unfortunately, left by the wayside. So, when this kind of work is done outside the academy, it should be praised by all culture lovers. I’d like to use this opportunity to congratulate and praise Dr Movahed and Mr Jamadi, and I believe that they have done lasting work.
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