(Daniel Martin Varisco (b 1951) is an anthropologist and historian. He has published on the history of Orientalism, the anthropology of Islam, the history of Islamic agronomy and astronomy, agriculture and water rights in Yemen, and international development and the anthropology of cyberspace. He has presented papers at the annual meetings of the American Anthropological Association, Middle East Studies Association, and universities and international forums around the world in English and Arabic. He was the Professor of Anthropology at Hofstra University in New York)
The history of Islam, like that of any religion, is
littered with heretics. When you start with a divine revelation, revealed only
in an Arabic dialect understandable to a seventh century illiterate Prophet
alone in a cave with an archangel, add a cult of personality adoration for this
Prophet and then acknowledge a cycle of violence and assassinations within the
emerging Muslim community, heresy is inevitable. So who were the heretics over
the fourteen centuries of the Islamic ummah? In a sense, everybody.
Certainly every single sect calling itself Muslim has been attacked by some
other sect. It is not just the majority Sunni vs. the marginalized Shi’a, nor
the rational Mutazilites vs.
the hardline literalists, nor the Arabs vs. the non-Arab converts, nor the
trained clerics vs. the itinerant dervishes, nor simply the women-can’t drive
Wahhabis of Saudi Arabia, the Buddha-bashing Taliban or those brave souls who
pursue Queer Jihad.
Simply put, the heretic is the person who does not take your truth as his or
her own.
When Islam first appeared, Christians had good
reason to brand it a heresy, just as devout Jews before the Roman destruction
of the temple in Jerusalem saw Christ as another false messiah. The Quran,
after all, did not say Christians and Jews were infidels; these People of the
Book worshipped the same one true God, but had been led astray. The prophets in
the earlier sacred writings were not the heretics. Abraham and Jesus were good
Muslims, as Muhammad saw for himself in his Night Journey to the heavens; it
was precisely because the Islamic dimension of sacred history as carried on by
Jews and Christians had become “heretical” that God sent a final revelation and
last prophet. Muhammad’s triumph signaled an end to heresy, a starting point
that all Muslims would no doubt agree upon, but the minute Muhammad died,
heresy was born again. How else can you explain the rebellion of the pacified
tribes, the murder of caliphs Umar, Uthman and Ali and the killing of
Muhammad’s grandson on the plain of Karbala? How else can anyone, Muslim or
not, come to terms with the continued violence and internal strife between
individuals and peoples claiming to be the true Muslims?
But if every Muslim is potentially a heretic for
some other Muslim, in another sense it becomes problematic to call any
particular Muslim or any specific difference in interpretation heretical. Were
Muhammad to return to earth today (which is, of course, a heretical thought for
most Muslims), what particular kind of Islam would he approve? Would he dine
with the Ayatollahs in Qum or break the fast with the royal sons of Ibn Saud in
Taif? Would he say “Salam aleikum” to Salman Rushdie or would he help strap on
the suicide bomb to the muhajibah-fashion waist of a retarded Iraqi
girl so she could blow up a Shi’a shrine? What would the Prophet do? And what
if, heaven forbid, no one recognized him as the Prophet? What if he was clean
shaven and wore no turban? What if Muhammad came back and he was branded a
heretic?
Obviously, heresy is dangerous. Some Muslims
reading the paragraphs above would no doubt stop here and brand me a heretic.
But wait. I have in front of me a book by a Moroccan Muslim intellectual,
Anouar Majid; the title is A Call for
Heresy: Why Dissent is Vital to Islam and America. And I just
spent the last two days in Atlanta at a conference of Muslims titled “A Celebration of Heresy Conference: Critical
Thinking for Islamic Reform.” I say “wait,” because the
subtitles carry the message. The problem facing Muslims today is not the
proliferation of heretics within the faith, but the assumption that only one
kind of Islam is not heretical. The problem is confusing dissent and debate
with apostasy and unbelief. The problem is failing to think critically. “It was
not for no reason,” argues Majid (p. 16) with sound logic overriding a double
negative, “ that Al-Jahidh, the great ninth-century Arab philosopher, remarked
that ‘the piety of theologians consists of hastening to denounce dissidents as
unbelievers.’” Thus, there is good reason to reject the Sysiphean treadmill of
perpetual blame. Thinking critically means thinking before criticizing, seeking
knowledge rather than advocating superiority. If that mote in your brother’s or
sister’s eye strikes you as heretical, then what do you think they will think
of the beam in your own?
Heresy is not something to celebrate, at least not
the way the Inquisitors spin it. Overcoming the tendency to condemn someone you
do not agree with as a heretic is well worth celebrating. Over the past two
days I heard a number of different voices, male and female, Egyptian, Iranian,
Pakistani, Sudanese, Turkish, Dutch, American, shaykh and shabab. Some of what
they were saying would indeed be considered heretical in some mosques or even
at a distinguished center of learning like al-Azhar? There was debate and there
was disagreement. Quranic verses were quoted from memory, history was spun,
passionate concerns about problems facing Muslims today were raised. Yet there
were no fist fights, no hurling of hate speech, no outbursts of intolerant
rants, and no restrictions placed on free speech. If this kind of forum is a
nest of heresy, let God be the judge.
So what did the heretics say? The Quran-only
enthusiasts, suspicious of the self-serving duplicity of those who cite hadiths
to haram and halal virtually every imaginable
act a Muslim could do, would sound heretical to most Muslims I know. One of the
speakers spent time in an Egyptian prison for daring to think outside the
approved clerical box, even though he had a shaykhly diploma from al-Azhar. As
several speakers noted, the thoughts expressed in this forum could not be made
openly in virtually any Muslim majority country in the world (certainly with a
few exceptions). Other issues would not shock reform-minded Muslims, such as
the call for equality of Muslim women and men; not forcing Muslim women and men
into a single mode, but allowing each to be independent agents of worshipping
Allah without imposed cultural constraints. As one sister eloquently phrased
it, why should women be forced to pray behind the men and look at their
bottoms?
Among those present was Irshad Manji, author of The Trouble with Islam,
a widely read book that has brought her a lot of trouble among most Muslims in
America. As a self-styled “refusenik,” Irshad’s frequent appearances in the
media have made her a prime target for heretic-bashing. But as Irshad
explained, the trouble she has is not with Islam as such, not with what she
sincerely hopes Islam can become, but with what often passes for Islam today,
the intolerance that is widespread and furthers the gap between the aspirations
of Muslims and the global concerns for human rights. I did not hear one person
at the conference attack Islam. Any stray Islamophobe would have walked out,
shaking his or her head at such a misnomer of a name for a conference of
Muslims talking theology and trying to find ways to be more socially
responsible citizens and family members.
Simply speaking one’s mind, as personally cathartic
and communally therapeutic as such an opportunity provides, is not critical
just because it is open-ended. While there were differences in interpreting the
Quran and assessing the Middle Eastern origin rules for Muslims living in
contemporary America, this was a conference that would have made the French
philosopher Descartes proud. Similar to many of the participants, and certainly
to the organizers of the conference, there was a distinct interest in using
“reason” to advance the faith. In his famousMeditiations,
Descartes attempted to use natural reason to prove that God and the human soul
exist. He was willing to doubt everything his senses told him, even his own
existence independent of his ability to think, but Descartes as a
self-proclaimed Catholic refused to be a skeptic of the very thing he was
trying to prove existed to the satisfaction of the atheists of his day. For
Descartes, proto-Deist and timeworn philosopher that he was, God had to exist
in order for him to exist as a finite thinking being. And that God had to be
good. None of the Muslim heretics, if you can believe conference labels, I
heard or talked with would disagree with Descartes. If there was an unbeliever,
infidel, or atheist in the room, he or she kept very still.
And this brings me to a heretical thought of my
own. Unlike Descartes, I do not think that human reason can ever prove in a
meaningful way that God, however defined, exists. All human beings I know about
have something any rational person would have to call “religion.” Not every
society believes in an all-powerful God (Descartes was wrong about that, but
then he never had the opportunity to take an anthropology of religion course);
nor is there any religion where everyone is in total agreement on who and what
God is. Most believers, no matter what the religion, believe they have the true
religion. There is no rational way to line up all the prophets, document all
the doctrines, and weigh all the good deeds against the bad and calculate the
one true religion. Most of us practice the religion we are brought up in. Even
when a person converts, the mother religion is never totally extinguished. So
ultimately the only viable way to accept a revelation is by faith, not the
ordinary means of proof we manage our daily affairs by, but an emotional and
inner directed willingness to, as Muslims says. submit.
There were no real heretics at the conference. I
doubt there have ever been any heretics willing to accept the brand of heretic
as a sign of not knowing the truth. Yes, there was thinking, and much of it was
critical. But thinking is like opening a door. Whether or not there is really
something on the other side of that door is the critical question. I suspect
that everyone present already had an idea of what they would see by opening the
door. That is very much the stuff truth is made out of, at least the kind of
truth individuals can grasp. What if there is nothing to see, once the door is
opened? Closing it would be closing your mind. Staring into the unknown may
just be the most blinding light of all. Now isn’t that a heretical thought?