Averroes, Kant and the Origins of the Enlightenment: Reason and Revelation in Arab Thought 9780755608324, 9781780765709

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To my family: Asma, my wife Sara and Nora, my new-born daughters, the hope of the future To my big family: The people of Saudi Arabia

INTRODUCTION Averroes and the Enlightenment

Since the nineteenth century, Arab and Islamic scholars have devoted countless hours to a single, traumatic question: how is the Arab-Islamic world to overcome its failure to confront the dominance of Western economic and military power? Within this question – which is both the focus of this book and the reason for its being written – lie many more. The problem is onion-layered: why is Arab-Islamic society characterized by political oppression, socio-economic inequality, poor standards of education and healthcare, and the dominance of religious and sectarian fundamentalism? Is this failure inherent in the cultural heritage of the Arab-Islamic world, or contingent on specific forces of repression and regression? And if the Arab-Islamic world is to awaken to a brighter future, must its rich heritage of philosophy, jurisprudence and literature be jettisoned in an attempt to emulate the West? Consideration of this question and its subsidiaries leads, inevitably, to the Enlightenment, the eighteenth-century European and North American movement that united philosophers, poets and revolutionaries in opposing the dogmatic forces of the Church and the state while privileging reason and the rights of the individual. This movement created a paradigm shift that forever transformed the entire basis of public, political, social and intellectual life in the Western world. In comparing and contrasting the Western and Arab-Islamic worlds, the question then becomes, why has the Arab-Islamic world not yet experienced such a paradigm shift – an Enlightenment of its own: an Arab enlightenment? Once again, we return to the question of the shared cultural heritage of the Arab-Islamic world. We no longer deal in such crude essentialisms as a ‘national character’ or ‘essential Arab’, but any modern definition of an individual must give primacy to the cultural context – the discourses, laws, history – within which they are born and raised. It is not ‘a question

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of the Arabs failing to understand Montesquieu or John Locke because of [...] an Arab genome for Oriental despotism’.1 If the lack of an Arab enlightenment and the failure of attempts to emulate it are to be overcome, the role of the shared Arab-Islamic cultural heritage is crucial. Must it be abandoned in order to reproduce a Western-style Enlightenment, or is there the possibility of a different and uniquely Arab enlightenment that is rooted in and develops organically from the history of Arab philosophical thought? This book aims to explore the ways in which differing discourses upon Arab enlightenment have employed the legacy of Arab-Islamic thought and seeks new perspectives on the question of enlightenment itself. If an Arab-Islamic enlightenment is the goal, an examination of the relationship berween religion and philosophy must be the first order of business. Generations of writers and thinkers have grappled with this matter and it is most often understood as the relationship between reason and revelation. Contrasting and sometimes contradictory interpretations of this relationship, and the implications of these understandings for the political sphere, must be analysed in order to begin to define Arab enlightenment and grasp the differing perspectives on it. Within this debate, there can be no more central figure than the twelfth-century philosopher Abu’l Walid Muhammad bin Rushd, known in the European-Western philosophical tradition as Averroes. One of the Arab-Islamic world’s most important philosophers, Averroes is perhaps best known for his defence of Aristotelian philosophy against the attacks of Abu Hamid Muhammad ibn Muhammad al-Ghazali (1058–1111), who attempted to destroy philosophy so it could not become an affront to the teachings of Islam. If Ghazali is considered to be an important figure in determining that faith, not science or reason, would be the defining factor of Arab-Islamic life, then Averroes is his counterpart, and he is cited frequently as an early advocate of enlightenment. His thought and surviving works have become a touchstone for debates on reason, religion, secularism, science and the centuries-long encounter between the ArabIslamic world and the West. In subjecting Averroes’ thought to historical analysis, however, a different picture emerges of the polymath. His account of the relationship between reason and revelation, and its implications in the political sphere, refutes the widely held claim that Averroes advocated and believed in

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enlightenment before the Enlightenment. He did not privilege rationality over revealed truth and blind faith, and his books were addressed to the political elite and did not aim at sweeping social change. It is the argument of this book that Averroes cannot be considered an enlightenment figure. Three factors are crucial in gaining this new view of Averroes. The first is the employment of a historical approach in excavating new meaning from Averroes’ work and thought. Rather than treating Averroes’ relationship to enlightenment as an ideological issue, a habit widespread in contemporary thought, the employment of historical methodology as outlined by Pocock and Skinner transforms the question into a historical one, thus overcoming centuries of profound misunderstanding of Averroes’ philosophical ideas and intentions by framing them in ideological and normative terms. A historical and analytical approach redefines both Averroes’ thought, in and of itself, and its capabilities. The second factor in re-evaluating Averroes’ thought, works and legacy is the comparative study with which this book is largely concerned: it examines Averroes’ account of the relationship between reason and revelation and its political implications in light of the work of Immanuel Kant. Kant was not merely the paramount advocate of the Enlightenment; his thought shaped the paradigm of Enlightenment itself within Western thought. By comparing his work with that of Averroes, the latter’s relationship to enlightenment is revealed and preconceptions and imposed ideological standards are avoided. By using this interpretive framework and method of analysis, Averroes is not placed in the long shadow of Kant but stands in a new light of his own. Thirdly, redefining ‘enlightenment’ itself is vital in forming a fresh understanding of the development, use and contestations of this term in Arab thought. It is sensible to draw a distinction between ‘the Enlightenment’ – the historical and political developments taking place in Europe, beginning in the eighteenth century and lasting until the present day – and ‘enlightenment’, attempts by the Arab world to emulate the Enlightenment that do not relate historically, geographically or even culturally to the original. The introduction of a flexible, neutral and solid definition of enlightenment deriving from Kant’s thought creates a new platform from which to analyse and understand the relationship of Averroes and his writings to this troubled concept.

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In refuting the widely held claim within contemporary Arab thought that Averroes was an early enlightenment figure, and an advocate of later developments, a fresh understanding of one of the Arab world’s greatest thinkers emerges. Furthermore, the widespread assertion that the seeds of enlightenment can be found within the Arab-Islamic heritage of the Middle Ages is weakened, perhaps decisively. From the wider perspective of Arab studies, this book demonstrates the possibilities inherent in – even the need for – an ideological modification within contemporary thought on Arab-Islamic heritage and enlightenment, grounded in an honest historical analysis.

The roots of Arab enlightenment The genesis of the argument about modernity in Arab thought lies in the reform movement that emerged in the second half of the nineteenth century. This was itself a reaction to the perceived failure of the Arab world to confront the dominance of Western economic and military power. The Ottoman Empire was by then in terminal decline and was known as the ‘sick man of Europe’. Nationalist movements sprang up to fill the political vacuum and Islamic reformists emerged to diagnose the ideological disease afflicting the Arab-Islamic world and prescribe for a renewal. Napoleon’s invasion of Egypt (1798–1801) was just one example of the Arab-Islamic world’s inability to confront the might and cultural dominance of the Western powers. This failure was a crucial factor in stimulating questions about the social, political and, most importantly, intellectual categories that had dominated the Arab way of life for centuries. This questioning was vital if it was to be understood why the Arab world had so signally failed to match up to the dominance of Western modernity, and a strategy for coping with this failure was to be found. Before the major reform movement of the later nineteenth century, however, came Rifa‘ah al-Tahtawi (1801–73), whose Takhlis al-ibriz fi talkhis Bariz (1831) – The Extraction of Gold from a Brief Description of Paris – was the first book to formulate an Arab awareness of the gulf between Europe and the Arab-Islamic world in the intellectual, civic, scientific and military domains. Tahtawi was sent by the Egyptian government to Paris in 1826 for five years; while there, he studied ethics, social and political

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philosophy, and maths and geometry. He also read pillars of the European Enlightenment such as Rousseau, Voltaire and Montesquieu. On his return to Egypt in 1831, Tahtawi became an important part of the drive to modernize Egypt. This culminated in his appointment as the director of the new School of Languages in Cairo in 1836. Often considered the pioneer of modern Arab enlightenment, Tahtawi was among the first to insist that science, technology and Western modernity were compatible with Islamic values, and that defending one’s country required championing its progress towards a similar modernity of its own. After Tahtawi, various movements and figures emerged throughout the nineteenth century as the Ottoman Empire instituted the Tanzimat, a number of large-scale reforms aimed at modernizing and strengthening the empire, often by employing European methods. Jamal al-Din al-Afghani, Muhammad Abduh and Rashid Rida in the Ottoman Empire, Sayyid Ahmad Khan and Muhammad Iqbal in India, Khayr al-Din in Tunisia and Mahmud Tarzi in Afghanistan are just a few of the best-known reformers in the Arab-Islamic world from that period. Predominantly due to their influence, and in an attempt to ‘catch up’ with the modernity of Europe and the Western world, there was a cultural revival; there was a boom in translations of notable European works, legal reform was attempted in Egypt, Tunisia, the Ottomon Empire and Iran, and Western sciences began to be taught in schools.

Discourses of failure Since the time of Tahtawi, two main discourses have dominated the intellectual as well as the political and public spheres in the Arab world. These discourses differ primarily in the answers they provide to the question, now enshrined in Arab literature as ‘the question of Arab enlightenment’ – how to understand and overcome the failure of Arab attempts to match the political, economic, military, social and cultural dominance of the Western world. The discourses are most easily categorized in terms of their differing views on the role that the shared cultural heritage of the Arab-Islamic world must play, or not play, in an Arab-Islamic society that has achieved modernity. The first discourse, known as the ‘Westernized’ discourse, asserts that

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the Arab failure to reach enlightenment is a result of the dominance of traditional modes of thinking and living in Arab societies. Proponents of this idea therefore argue that the only way for the Arab world to recover is for it to replace these traditional modes with Western/modern ones. The second, ‘authentic’, discourse asserts that Arab enlightenment can only be achieved through the internal resources and mechanisms of Arab culture itself. This ‘authentic’ discourse can, in turn, be subdivided into two main currents of thought. The first, which can be labelled the ‘Islamic authentic discourse’, asserts that the failure of Arab enlightenment is the result of the loose commitment by Arabs to their traditions, their values and, most importantly, their religious beliefs. The weakness of this commitment is represented by the evident increase in the popularity of Western values in Arab societies. This, according to critics, contaminates the purity and self–sufficiency of Arab culture. This discourse asserts that the only way for the Arab world to recover is to reassert its authenticity by showing a stronger commitment to traditional and/or ‘authentic’ values. The second version of the ‘authentic’ discourse can be labelled a ‘modernized’ strand of such thinking. It rejects the intellectual authority of the West, but simultaneously rejects religious dogma and asserts that a creative re-employment of the enlightened elements of the Arab-Islamic heritage is a valid basis for modernizing Arab thought.

Averroes I had to raise my eyes somewhat to see Where the great master of the men who knew Sat with his philosophic family. I saw Socrates and Plato there [...] Averroes who wrote the Commentary. Dante Alighieri, Divine Comedy

The importance of Averroes in the context of Arab enlightenment goes beyond the fact that he was one of a small group – Aristotle’s ‘philosophic family’ – of Arab philosophers whose cultural impact is such that he is referred to in mainstream Western literature, such as that of Dante, Borges and Joyce. Those Islamic philosophers who lived before the fifteenth century

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have acquired a special importance in debates on Arab enlightenment, both for those who believe that any Arab enlightenment must emulate the Western world and that the Arab world must jettison its cultural heritage, as well as for those who believe that a uniquely Arab enlightenment will and must develop organically from that heritage. It is paradoxical that even those who believe that little if any of the writings of their forebears can have any value for a ‘modern’ Arab-Islamic world refer back to philosophers such as Averroes for intellectual authority. Yet this is precisely the case. Even those who argue that philosophy must burgeon and change without Averroes cannot do so, it seems, without Averroes. Averroes is the best known of the philosophers who played a highly important role in the later formation of the Arab-Islamic civilization of the Ottoman Empire and its environs, and he is the most significant within the Arab enlightenment debate. His very life, as well as his work, revolved around the central issue of the failure of Arab enlightenment. This is the issue that any new attempt at achieving such an enlightenment must overcome: the matters of philosophy as opposed to religion, science as opposed to faith, and reason as opposed to revelation must be comprehensively analysed. Born in 1126 in Cordoba in what is now Spain but was then part of the Almoravid state, Averroes – or Ibn Rushd, as he is also known, hence the appellation Rushdian – came from a family with a long and serious tradition of jurisprudence and public service. He studied hadith – the teachings of the Prophet – and scholastic theology, but also medicine, law and linguistics. Averroes spent many years at the Mohavid court in Marrakesh as an educationalist before working for ten years as a judge in Cordoba and later serving as a physician to the ruler Abu Ya‘qub Yusuf. It was the ruler who in 1169 commissioned Averroes to translate and write commentaries on a series of works by Aristotle. These translations and their subsequent translation into Latin recovered the intellectual legacy of Aristotle for the Western world, where Aristotle had not been well known previously. The fact that we cannot say with the same certainty that Averroes recovered Aristotle for the Arab-Islamic world is intimately bound up with the conflict of Arab enlightenment. Of all Averroes’ translations, commentaries, original philosophical works, medical writings and legal publications, a mere 87 books are extant. That is because in 1195 conservative Islamic jurists issued a formal rejection

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of all philosophers and their works, and Averroes came in for particular criticism. The books he had written were burned. This explains why many exist today only in Latin or Hebrew translations of the original Arabic. Averroes himself was exiled and although the exile itself only lasted for two years, it was the end of his political career as he died in 1198. If Averroes represents the beginnings of what might have been an Arab enlightenment, as is often suggested, then Ghazali represents its failure. Ghazali, often considered to be one of the most influential Muslim figures in history, played a key role in setting the Arab-Islamic world firmly on the path towards faith and away from science. The nascent Neoplatonic science and philosophy that was developing, based on Hellenistic philosophy, never recovered from the death blow dealt to it by Ghazali, most famously in his Tahafut al-falasifah or The Incoherence of the Philosophers. In this book, Ghazali denounced Arab-Islamic philosophers such as Avicenna (or Ibn Sina), an important influence on Averroes, charging them with heresy and being utterly irreligious. Ghazali dissected their thought to bring out internal contradictions in dealing with God and the universe, but instead of attempting to resolve these contradictions, he rejected all philosophical and metaphysical thought, replacing it with the revealed truth of the Qur’an and faith above all else. In one famous example, Ghazali wrote that, when fire and cotton are placed in contact with each other, the cotton burns not because of the fire, but because of the will of God. The Incoherence of the Philosophers was wildly successful and greatly contributed to the withering of science and philosophy across the Arab-Islamic world. Averroes’ most famous work, Tahafut al-tahafut (The Incoherence of the Incoherence), was a refutation of Ghazali’s arguments against philosophy, offering a new formulation of the relationship between reason and revelation. This work took the form of a dialogue, which was a distinctly civilized type of argumentation that stood in stark contrast to the barbarism of the reception of the Tahafut al-tahafut when books were burnt and the author was exiled. In the work’s central claim – that both reason and revelation are right and true – is contained the promise of an Arab enlightenment that has yet to materialize. Averroes was enormously influential in the Western world, and indeed played a part in its progress towards the Enlightenment by influencing the likes of Thomas Aquinas, but the Arab-Islamic world largely abandoned

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his legacy until the Arab-Islamic reform movements of the nineteenth century. The publication in Arabic of Tahafut al-tahafut and Commentary on Aristotle’s Metaphysics for the first time in 1885–6 helped to focus more attention on Averroes. Since that time, he has never been far from the centre of debates on Arab enlightenment. There are two reasons why Averroes in particular has been important for Arab enlightenment thinkers. The first is the belief that his work (especially his brilliant interpretations of Aristotle) contributed greatly to the rise of the West. This argument was made particularly by Westernized and modern authentic thinkers, who drew a comparison between the way that Averroes’ work was received in Europe and the way it was received in the Arab-Islamic sphere. They argue that Averroes’ work was warmly welcomed in Europe during the Middle Ages and so helped the West reach its current superior position by contributing to the flourishing of philosophy and rationality. In contrast, the rejection of Averroes’ work in Arab-Islamic circles led to the decline of the Arab-Islamic civilization by philosophy and rationality being rejected and religious dogma and mysticism dominating. The second reason why Averroes has been considered to be particularly important by the pioneers of Arab enlightenment was his evident intention to reconcile reason and revelation. However, each school of thought has its own aim in reviving this particular point in Averroes’ thought. For the Westernized school, the aim is to advance the idea that the logical consequence of his philosophy is the rise of secularism as a universal value. This is because they understand Averroes’ formula of the relationship between reason and revelation as establishing a separation and a hierarchy between the two domains. For them, this can be seen as an Islamic basis for the separation of religion and the state. By reviving Averroes, the modern authentic discourse aims to continue his tradition of harmony between Islam and modern life. In contrast to the strategy of the Westernized discourse, which tries to use Averroes’ legacy to legitimize the adoption of Western values, the modernized authentic discourse aims to re-employ his thought to discover the enlightened elements within the Arab-Islamic heritage and reconcile them with modern life. On the other hand, the Islamic authentic school saw in Averroes’ attempt to reconcile revelation with reason proof for the opposite view. For thinkers of this school, Averroes’ account of the relationship between revelation and reason, when presented in the context

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of Averroes’ closeness to Islamic dogma, demonstrates that Islam contains the basis of modernity within itself. Islam is, so this argument goes, flexible and capable of assimilating any new developments in the intellectual and scientific spheres without having to abandon any part of its identity. By using Averroes to demonstrate that adopting any or any more than a modicum of new Western intellectual achievements is not only unnecessary but damaging to an Arab enlightenment, thinkers of the Islamic authentic school enhance their position within their debate with other schools of thought.

The Enlightenment or enlightenment? It is crucial at this point to draw a distinction between the Enlightenment and enlightenment. The former refers to the historical and philosophical developments that took place in Europe in the eighteenth century and lasted for about two hundred years. The latter refers to attempts by the ArabIslamic world to modernize and develop politically and philosophically that do not relate historically, geographically, or even culturally to the Enlightenment. Such attempts can be philosophical and cultural in nature, such as the Neoplatonic philosophers of the eleventh and twelfth centuries or the reform movement of the nineteenth century, or they can be explicitly political and governmental. Into this latter category would fall the forced secularization of Turkey by Kemal Ataturk, who founded the Turkish Republic after the fall of the Ottoman Empire. Another example would be the birth of the Baath movement, which was originally an attempt by Syrian, Lebanese and Iraqi intellectuals to include all of the communities in their countries, although it later devolved into clan, sectarian or military dictatorships.2 A more recent example is the so-called ‘Arab Spring’, the cluster of revolutioniary activism in the form of demonstrations and protests that has rocked the Arab-Islamic world in the past few years. Nevertheless, each of these attempts must deal with the same cluster of questions that the Enlightenment grappled with: the role of religion in society, the nature and scope of political authority, the political ideals of freedom, justice, rights and equality, and so on. Therefore, ‘enlightenment’ describes the attempts by contemporary Arab thinkers to deal with these issues in the Arab world between the nineteenth century and today. It is

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still, therefore, in the Arab context, and in spite of the Enlightenment, an incomplete project. This raises a crucial question: does the contemporary Arab debate seek to link Averroes’ thought to the Enlightenment or to enlightenment? Each of the discourses mentioned above provides different answers to this question and each answer in turn depends on the respective views of each school of thought regarding the concept of the Enlightenment or enlightenment. More importantly, each answer depends on the view the discourse in question takes of the role of the Arab-Islamic heritage in Arab enlightenment. For the authentic discourse, Arab-Islamic heritage is a valid source for the enhancement of the Arab Self because it demonstrates that Arabs are capable of achieving their own enlightenment from within by drawing upon their own heritage. By using a shared cultural heritage as a launching pad for the desired Arab enlightenment, a sort of continuity between the past and the present is created and this leads inexorably towards the future. For the modern authentic discourse in particular, Averroes’ thought is seen as embodying the preconditions of the Enlightenment: self-critique, creativity and rationality. However, it does not envisage the Western outcomes of the Enlightenment such as secularism. So, Averroes’ importance for the advocates of this trend is to provide an authentically ‘Arab’ starting point that may lead to enlightenment. For them, if the Enlightenment has already been achieved in given historical, social and cultural European, Western and Christian circumstances, then enlightenment can be achieved in different historical, social and cultural Arab-Islamic circumstances. In contrast, the advocates of the Westernized discourse treat the ArabIslamic heritage pragmatically or ignore its validity, partly due to their belief in the universality of the values of the Enlightenment, and partly due to the ways in which these values have been established and developed in the West. For proponents of the Westernized discourse, the Enlightenment would not have prevailed in the West without an intellectual revolution that eliminated all the values of the medieval heritage and so paved the way for the political and economic aspects of the Enlightenment to be established. Such an intellectual revolution, therefore, is not seen by the advocates of the Westernized discourse as a mere matter of historical contingency and the arbitrariness of events. Rather, it is seen as a necessary precondition

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for achieving Arab enlightenment. This view has no room for the imagined continuity of past, present and future as envisioned by the ‘authentic’ discourse; it demands a radical break with the past: a discontinuity with one’s heritage. Advocates of this view believe that an Arab intellectual revolution, closely resembling the European one, is needed to eliminate all the values that have survived from the medieval heritage of the ArabIslamic world. Such a revolution and annihilation of the past would pave the way for the establishment of the Enlightenment in the Arab sphere. This attitude towards the Arab world’s shared cultural heritage explains why proponents of the Westernized discourse either disregard it entirely or only employ it selectively. Those advocates of the Westernized discourse who only employ the heritage pragmatically aim at reconciling the values that have been created and developed in the West with the ideas in the Arab-Islamic intellectual sphere. These values include secularism, Marxism and postmodernism. To achieve this, the Arab-Islamic heritage must be interpreted in a way that makes it supportive of these values. For the Westernized discourse, then, Averroes’ thought is interpreted as an authentically Arab-Islamic source for the Enlightenment outcomes of secularism, science, Marxism and even postmodernism. In this regard, the Enlightenment is conceived as universal, and not as a product of a particular civilization. For proponents of this view, enlightenment is synonymous with the Enlightenment, and Arab enlightenment will necessarily be a reiteration of the Enlightenment and follow the same course. For the authentic discourse, enlightenment is a concept that is broader than the Enlightenment, and the latter is merely one version of the former: the Western version. Arab enlightenment will be another version. ‘Enlightenment’, ‘the Enlightenment’ and ‘Arab enlightenment’ are clearly overlapping terms. As a consequence, enlightenment is a comprehensive, neutral, literal and flexible concept and must be used as such. It is capable of being distinguished from the concept of the Enlightenment (as the authentic discourse suggests) or of including it (as the Westernized discourse suggests). The definition of the word ‘enlightenment’ adopted in this study relates to the literal meaning of the word, grounded in an induction of the various meanings of the Enlightenment(s), particularly that of Kant, as will be shown in detail in Chapter 3. In this study, I define enlight-

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enment as the mobilizing of the public towards sociopolitical reforms by a political ideal, or a set of political ideals, based on philosophical insight. This definition represents the meeting point between the Enlightenment and enlightenment. Derived from the thought of Kant, a primary advocate of the Enlightenment, it is free from any abstract or literal ideological preferences (or, at least, it has minimal ideological preferences). It can therefore be used as a criterion to judge Averroes’ thought. Such a definition, moreover, can be the flexible, although solid, base for tracing the fluctuating interpretations of Averroes’ relationship to both the Enlightenment and enlightenment within contemporary Arab literature. It will now be evident that the term ‘political’ holds a central position in the definition of enlightenment adopted in this study. It therefore also requires some clarification. Within the interpretive framework of this study, two factors are taken as defining a particular intellectual activity as a political activity. The first involves speculation about any traditionally conceived political phenomenon, such as state, authority and society, and also any intellectual activity that aims at establishing, consolidating or re-shaping an ideal concept, or a cluster of ideal concepts. The second factor is the intention of publicizing the political speculation and/or establishment, consolidation or re-shaping of an ideal concept in order to mobilize the public towards a particular end. Thus, according to this definition (and according to the definition of enlightenment adopted in this study), making intellectual activity public or framing it as public is the common and central feature in what is political and what is enlightening. Chapters 4 and 5 will provide a detailed and practical clarification of the term ‘political’, and how employing it serves the definition of enlightenment.

The need for this book The position of Averroes in modern Arab thought and the relationship of his writings to enlightenment are the subjects of wide-ranging dispute. This controversy is what makes examining Averroes’ writing in a new way an appealing task.3 Averroes’ attempt to reconcile revelation with reason and the political implications of such a reconciliation, issues which are at the heart of the Arab question of enlightenment, are the subject of particularly heated debate. The relationship between revelation and reason

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is a particularly active topic in Arab thought4 and the political dimensions of Averroes’ thought have not yet been sufficiently examined. However, examining Averroes’ relationship with enlightenment involves overcoming several difficulties. Firstly, it is necessary to avoid the weakness and uncertainty of the arguments put forth by the pioneers of Arab enlightenment. An examination of all Averroes’ original works that relate to the question of the relationship between reason and revelation is necessary in order to avoid these pitfalls. It is now clear that one reason for the dispute among Arab thinkers regarding the position of Averroes and his relationship to enlightenment is the lack of direct examination of his thought. Many of the disputants (such as Farah Anton) have relied on secondary sources, as will be shown later, or have failed to consult Averroes’ works altogether. Secondly, the debate within contemporary Arab thought has been inevitably coloured by ideology. With a few exceptions, Averroes’ thought has been primarily employed by competing ideologies and intellectual discourses in the Arab world to serve their own ends.5 The result of this, as will be shown later, has been a distortion of what Averroes truly intended when he produced his work. This is so whether one imposes a normative judgement on his thought or reads it with an a priori expectation of what his aim was in producing his work. Therefore, any new study of Averroes’ thought and its relationship to enlightenment would result in a similar distortion if it did not pay sufficient attention to how his thought should be examined by employing the appropriate methodology. Thirdly, any examination of Averroes’ relationship to enlightenment will involve setting external standards against which elements of his thought can measured according to whether or not they can be considered enlightened. However, such standard-setting may be risky: deciding what is modern or enlightened and what is not would involve developing and resolving an ideological debate on the issue. A consequence of this would be that a normative judgement of Averroes’ thought would be imposed. This means that the distorting interpretations of Averroes’ work in modern Arab thought and the consequent misleading readings would not be avoided. If one cannot hope to wholly avoid the imposition of ideological values on Averroes’ thought, the ways in which it takes place can at least be made transparent. This can be accomplished by examining Averroes’ relationship to enlightenment through a comparison of his writings with those of a

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primary advocate of the Enlightenment in Western thought, a thinker who contributed to the questions of the reason–revelation relationship and to the political implications of such a relationship. During the modern era many thinkers have written on these issues within the Western philosophical tradition. Among them all, there is no Western philosopher more intrinsically connected to Enlightenment thought, nor more suitable to reveal Averroes’ understanding of the relationship between reason and revelation, than Immanuel Kant. Immanuel Kant was born in 1724 in the Prussian city of KÖnigsberg6 and died in 1804. He is considered to be the founder of German idealism. Brought up as a devout Lutheran, Kant later adhered to liberal views, especially on theology.7 In his childhood Kant was sent to a religious school, where he attended intensive religious classes.8 This scholastic background, combined with the fact that he was born to devoutly religious parents, had a major impact on his position on religion in general and on Pietism in particular. His early works, particularly on physical geography, were scientific, but later on he concentrated on metaphysics, morality and religion. There are two reasons why it is fruitful to compare this figure with Averroes to gain insight on the Arab enlightenment: one relates to Kant’s intellectual production itself and its position within the Western tradition and the other relates to the view that contemporary Arab thinkers have taken of his writings. When we examine Kant’s position within the Western philosophical tradition generally and the Enlightenment specifically, we see that he is chronologically the last great thinker of the Enlightenment, and he interacted greatly with his predecessors. He was influenced in his early writing by Hume, in his political thought by Locke and in his moral and political thought by Rousseau. At the same time, his work was a refutation of the epistemology and metaphysics of Descartes, Berkeley, Hume, Locke and others. Kant can be seen as representing the maturity of the Enlightenment, and this means that his thought can be usefully compared with that of Averroes. This is enhanced by the fact that Kant, like Averroes, made a significant contribution to ideas about the relationship between reason and revelation and its political implications. Furthermore, contemporary Arab scholarship does not seem to provide a comprehensive account of the Enlightenment,

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nor is there rich historical study of Kant’s thought in the Arab-Islamic world.9 Rather, for contemporary Arab thinkers, the Enlightenment is used as shorthand for several scattered, disconnected and sometimes contradictory values that are said to be found both within Averroes’ thought and in medieval Islamic philosophy in general. These values range from creativity and rationality, through secularism, to Marxism and even postmodernism. This lack of a systemic account of the Enlightenment, which leads inevitably to a similar lack of a systemic account of enlightenment, provides another rationale for comparing Kant with Averroes in this study. For contemporary Arab thinkers, Kant’s unique value for a comparison with Averroes lies in the attribution to Averroes (and to Arab rationality in general) of a Kantian, although hidden, type of rationality. In a broader sense, contemporary Arab thinkers have been influenced far more by the idealist-rational tradition within Western philosophy than by the empiricist one, as exemplified by the extent of the influence of German nationalist thinkers, Marxism and later French existentialism. Kant is historically and intellectually the head of this tradition and his influence can be seen, for example, in Muhammad al-Jabri’s interpretation of the theory of knowledge presented by Kindi, Farabi, Ibn Hazm and Averroes as based on a Kantian union between reason and senses. It is also present in Muhammad Arkoun’s humanism, which is perhaps inspired by Kant’s idea of human dignity. Furthermore, the stress laid on the belief that Averroes, in his formula for the relationship between reason and revelation, gives superiority to the former over the latter, brings Averroes ever closer to Kant’s formula. This is enhanced by the fact that Averroes (unlike Ghazali) grounds ethics upon reason, as Kant does, not on the senses or on revelation. This leads contemporary Arab thinkers to believe that the medieval Arab-Islamic philosophical tradition and the second wave of Western modern philosophical tradition that encompassed the Enlightenment were both rooted in Greek philosophy and monotheistic religions.10 This second wave started with Rousseau and included Kant. It rehabilitated Greek philosophy after the rupture with it that had resulted from the first wave of Western modern philosopical tradition, originating with Machiavelli. Beyond a common historical root for medieval Arab-Islamic philosophy and the Western tradition as exemplified by Kant, the specific but

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unexplored influence of Kant on modern Arab thought – alongside the lack of a historical study of Kant’s thought and on the Enlightenment – creates a vacuum within Arabic scholarship that has serious implications for the continuing debate about the question of Arab enlightenment. If Kant is a touchstone for the Enlightenment in the Western tradition, Averroes performs the same function within the Arab tradition for the issue of enlightenment. An examination and comparison of their thought from a systematic and historical perspective promises to bring new insight to the Arab enlightenment debate, insight that is both original and intellectually rigorous.

Structuring the comparison This study focuses therefore on how the shared cultural Arab-Islamic heritage has been received by various discourses of modernity and its position in achieving enlightenment within contemporary Arab scholarship. It concentrates particularly on the possible employment of some elements of this heritage to answer the question of Arab enlightenment, and the relationship between reason and revelation is at the heart of the issue. As Averroes is widely seen by contemporary Arab thinkers as an advocate of enlightenment, an analysis of his thought is the central thread running through this book. The main, indeed paradigmatic, advocate of the Enlightenment in Western thought is Immanuel Kant and it is through a comparison of Averroes’ thought with that of Kant that an understanding of Averroes’ relationship to enlightenment will be gained. This sheds new light on Averroes’ relationship to enlightenment, and the risk of judging him according to imposed ideological standards is minimized. A review of the uses and understandings of the Arab-Islamic heritage within the contemporary Arab intellectual tradition demonstrates that it is profoundly influenced by the ideological positions of the contemporary Arab thinkers themselves. A careful analysis of Averroes’ account of the relationship between reason and revelation and its political implications, and a comparison of this account with that of Kant, shows that Averroes cannot in fact be considered a central figure of enlightenment. This inevitably weakens the claim that the seeds of enlightenment can be found within the Arab-Islamic heritage of the Middle Ages. Consequently, the credibility

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of any contemporary attempt to seek to present selected elements of that heritage as an early introduction to enlightenment is reduced. However, this does not mean that the Arab-Islamic heritage should not be used as a source of inspiration, that is, as a part of a universal heritage. This differs fundamentally from the way in which contemporary Arab thinkers consider the Arab-Islamic heritage, because treating it as a source of inspiration does not ascribe any sort of intellectual authority to the literary, philosophical and cultural productions of the past. The book is divided into six chapters. Chapter 1, firstly, reviews the scholarship that attempts to show the position of Averroes as an advocate of enlightenment within the contemporary Arab intellectual sphere. This shows the influence of various ideological approaches in interpreting Averroes and re-employing his thoughts in today’s debate among contemporary Arab thinkers. Secondly, methodological approaches most commonly employed are considered and evaluated in order to develop the approach used in this study. Chapter 2 examines the relationship between reason and revelation in Averroes’ thought, and its political implications. It also reviews the historical and intellectual context in which Averroes’ work was produced, his account of the relationship between reason and revelation, and the political implications of this account. In Chapter 3, Kant’s thought is examined to discover the elements that relate to the question of the relationship between reason and revelation and its political implications. Furthermore, as the adopted definition of enlightenment in this study is based on an induction from Kant’s philosophy, this chapter plays a crucial role in developing the present argument. To show how this definition has been derived from Kant’s work, a review is given of the historical and intellectual context in which Kant’s work was produced, Kant’s account of the relationship between reason and revelation, and the political implications of this relationship. Chapter 4 contains a general comparison outlining the philosophical projects of Averroes and Kant, and this examines their relationship with enlightenment. Investigating the intentions behind their intellectual activities, in so far as it can be known, by evaluating Averroes’ whole philosophical project rather than cherry-picking scattered remarks in his writings, helps to determine the extent to which Averroes intended to

Introduction

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advocate a set of enlightened doctrines. The evaluation includes, firstly, an evaluation of the conditions in which Averroes’ and Kant’s philosophical questions were formed; secondly, an evaluation of the purposes – the ultimate aims – behind their intellectual activities; and thirdly, an evaluation of the strategies they adopted in order to achieve the ultimate aim of their philosophy. Chapter 5 draws a comparison between the philosophical doctrines of Averroes and Kant in terms of the question of the relationship between reason and revelation and its political implications. In Chapter 6, the primary insights gleaned from this approach are evaluated and underlined.

1

THE STATE OF THE DEBATE Enlightenment in contemporary Arab thought

Two main discourses on the question of Arab enlightenment – or modernization – have dominated the intellectual, political and public life of the Arab world since the nineteenth century. The ‘Westernized’ discourse asserts that the failure of the Arab world to achieve enlightenment is a result of the persistence and dominance of traditional Islamic modes of thinking and living. It believes that the cultural and religious heritage of the Arab-Islamic world must mostly be jettisoned in order to imitate the West and achieve the same sort of enlightenment. The ‘authentic’ discourse, on the other hand, asserts that – rather than mimicking the European Enlightenment – any Arab enlightenment can only be achieved by drawing on the cultural heritage of the Arab-Islamic world and, if it is achieved, it will be a uniquely Arab-Islamic phenomenon. Within this ‘authentic’ discourse, there are two main currents of thought and these currents conflict with each other. The ‘Islamic authentic discourse’ argues that, rather than allowing itself to be corrupted by Western values, the Arab-Islamic world must recommit itself to its traditional values, and these are seen as authentic and innate. The ‘modernized’ discourse rejects both the intellectual authority of the West and that of religious dogma, arguing that the cultural heritage of the Arab-Islamic world can provide a valid and sufficient basis for the emergence of an Arab enlightenment. Advocates of all these discourses have analysed, albeit sometimes superficially, the thought of Averroes and they have found in him a touchstone figure who supports their particular view of how the cultural heritage of the Arab-Islamic world interacts with the potential for Arab enlightenment.

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Early advocates of the Westernized discourse One of the first and most influential thinkers to interpret Averroes as an early advocate of an enlightenment that must of necessity replicate the Enlightenment of the Western world was Farah Anton (1874–1922). Influenced by the French philosopher Ernest Renan (1823–92), Anton presented a materialistic interpretation of Averroes’ work, seeing in the twelfth-century writer an early advocate of secularism, which was to be achieved through the separation of religion, science and philosophy.1 He asserted that Averroes’ thought contained the seeds of European modernity, and that the rejection of it had contributed to the intellectual, and so the political, decline of the Arabs in Iberia.2 Moreover, Anton interpreted Averroes’ account of the relationship between reason and revelation in a way that would make it lead to the Kantian distinction between rational religion and ecclesiastical faith.3 Representing Averroes as neutral towards religions was particularly important for Anton as a Christian who sought religious freedom. This encouraged Anton to employ Averroes’ reconciliation between reason and revelation in order to develop the idea of toleration between religions, upon which principle a secular modern state free from religious prejudice could be founded.4 Owing to Averroes’ principle of causality, Anton also saw in Averroes an advocate of modern science.5 Anton excused the undeniably dogmatic elements of Averroes’ thought by referring to the pressure of the scholar’s historical and social circumstances. He argued that Averroes was compelled to adopt some mainstream ideas of the time and hide some enlightened views in order to avoid persecution.6 In the political domain, Anton re-employed Averroes’ political work against feudalism and military despotism – two of the defining political and social features of the Ottoman Empire, where Anton lived.7 This is one of many examples of interpreters with agendas finding in Averroes the philosopher they sought. Anton also held up Averroes’ view of the role of women in society – contained in his Commentary on Plato’s Republic – as liberal, and he was not alone in this. In fact, Averroes’ liberalism in this respect was celebrated by many advocates of the Westernized discourse. Salamah Musa (1887– 1958) described Averroes’ thought as ‘progressive’ and argued that of all the Arab-Islamic thinkers only Averroes had called for equality between

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men and women.8 Furthermore, he stated that Averroes deserved a great place in history due to his commitment to reason and rationality in spite of Ghazali, who denied their validity.9 Similarly, Qasim Amin (1863–1908), known for his enthusiastic calls for the liberation of women, argued that Averroes, among others, contributed through his philosophy to the rise of the Arab-Islamic civilization during the Dark Ages in Europe.10

The Islamic authentic response Anton’s materialistic interpretation led Muhammad ‘Abduh (1849–1905), who can be seen as a main advocate of the Islamic authentic trend, to become involved in a debate with him in order to reject such an interpretation of Averroes’ work. Through this dialogue, ‘Abduh, who was the Mufti of Egypt, rehabilitated Averroes as a good Muslim, freeing him from any accusations of heresy by highlighting the dogmatic and traditional elements of his thought. The same author tried to justify the rational elements of his thought by referring to the Islamic tradition of toleration.11 ‘Abduh’s rehabilitation of Averroes encouraged ever more Arab scholars to study and use his ideas.12 Another leading Islamic authentic thinker, Jamal al-Din al-Afghani (1838–97), also celebrated Averroes’ thought.13 Islamic authentic thinkers resurrected Averroes’ work in order to reject the adoption of Western values, and secularism in particular, and to demonstrate that the Arab-Islamic civilization of which Averroes was such a significant and influential part contributed to the rise of the West.14

The emergence of the modernized authentic discourse The second half of the twentieth century also witnessed the rise of the modern authentic discourse, as well as the influence of the postmodern tradition on the Westernized discourse. The growing interest in Averroes was fuelled by an attempt by some contemporary Arab thinkers to reject the intellectual authority of the West, to create a middle way between Westernized and Islamic authentic discourses, and to pave the way for modernity by reviving the enlightened elements of the Arab-Islamic heritage. This required showing, or even creating, a type of continuity between the Islamic heritage and the modern present. This approach presented Averroes’ thought as original, and not merely a good commentary on Greek

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philosophy. It was, and still is, accompanied by a growing recognition of the need for the restoration of philosophy in Arab thought, and for dealing with the relationship between reason and revelation.15 It is suitable to begin an evaluation of the modern authentic discourse with Hasan Hanafi (b. 1935), one of its main advocates, who has a mixed Islamist and Marxist background. He highlights the need for the continuation of the tradition of Arab-Islamic enlightened philosophy by asserting that Europe needed to reconcile revelation and reason at the beginning of its Renaissance. This was an expansion of what Islamic philosophy had undertaken before the Renaissance.16 Hanafi espouses the traditional doctrines of the modern authentic discourse by employing the ArabIslamic heritage as a platform from which to launch the desired Arab enlightenment. He does this by creating a sort of continuity between the past and the present, which leads towards a future in which enlightenment means something different from the Enlightenment. He defines heritage as whatever has reached us from the past within the mainstream civilization. Thus, it is inherited and present at the same time.17 It is the collection of interpretations that a particular generation has given to its own situation. This means it is a historical attitude by a particular group of people towards its view of the world.18 The heritage is still alive, and this is why we need to analyse it and renew it: analysing it helps to understand public behaviour; renewing it helps push this behaviour toward modernity.19 Furthermore, renewing it means discovering the Self and liberating it from any foreign influence.20 Hanafi asserts that heritage acquires importance because it represents the national culture.21 For him, renewing one’s heritage must be based on today’s needs: liberation from political, economic and military Western hegemony; the redistribution of wealth and the bridging of the gap between the social classes; liberty and democracy; Arab unity; the reassertion of Arab identity; progress and development; and, finally, the mobilization of the public.22 He shows that renewing it means reinterpreting it in accordance with today’s needs, and transforming it into ‘scientific theory’.23 Therefore, for him, heritage is a means while its renewal is the end.24 In brief, what Hanafi calls for is an analysis of heritage and an understanding of the relationship between that heritage and today’s public behaviour. Subsequently, there should be an analysis of the relationship between that public behaviour and the need to build a modern society.25

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Hanafi’s Marxist background is still influential as he seeks ultimately to transform the Arab world’s heritage into a revolutionary ideology.26 For him, Third World countries must renew their heritages in order to develop. The countries’ heritages will provide a national ideology for each of them and liberate them from Western hegemony.27 Hanafi states that by renewing heritage he seeks firstly to build a public revolutionary movement formed in a political party that embodies the national culture and takes the responsibility of advising the public. Secondly, he aims at changing the inherited theoretical framework to fit in with today’s needs.28 He asserts that renewing a heritage does not mean reconciling it with modernity.29 Rather, it means rebuilding the heritage for current needs. Here, the latter becomes the superstructure and the former becomes the infrastructure.30 This is achieved by renewing language. New meanings of the heritage might be discovered through a modern and flexible language read by all strata of society, bridging the gap between the elite and the public, discovering new levels of analysis and re-reading the heritage within different environments.31 In order to show the importance of reintroducing philosophy into the Arab-Islamic sphere, Hanafi warns that neither heritage nor Western philosophy provides answers to today’s questions. Therefore, a systemic link between the three elements (heritage, Western philosophy and current needs) is necessary.32 For Hanafi, the crisis of philosophy in the Arab world is caused by a lack of creativity resulting from an insistence on copying philosophical ideas both from the heritage of the Arab world and from that of the West.33 He explains that, for Arabs, heritage represents the Self, while Western philosophy represents the Other.34 He praises the Arabic translation movement of the Middle Ages. In contrast to today’s movement, which involves merely copying the original texts, this was a self-confident reading of the Other, using the Self as a medium.35 For him, the Arab commentary on Greek philosophy was a complex process of restructuring the foreign text and naturalizing it within the local culture by ‘Islamizing’ its conceptions and providing local examples to illustrate it.36 This process led eventually to a stage of genuine creativity, although it was cut short by Ghazali’s attack on philosophy, which represented the beginning of the decline of the ArabIslamic civilization, despite Averroes’ attempt to save it.37 What the new researchers need to do, according to Hanafi, is to select the elements that concentrate more on ‘rediscovering man instead of God;

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history instead of revelation’ from both Arab-Islamic heritage and Western thought.38 Then, these rediscoveries and findings should be presented to the public in new and approachable language.39 Hanafi believes that the crisis of heritage is that people adopt it without being selective.40 He also calls for further research into the unthinkable narratives in the ArabIslamic heritage, those types and currents of thinking banned for political or social reasons. These, he believes, were neglected because they were the thought of the political resistance of the time; for him, what is called heritage today is the thought of political governance.41 Hanafi’s attitude to Western philosophy is rather more revolutionary. He rejects the claim that it is universal, calling for the acknowledgement that it is historically and geographically restricted.42 He wants the Arab world to move on from the position of being the permanent students of the West to being more creative in their own right, as the Arabs of the Middle Ages were in their relationship with Greek philosophy.43 For him, such progress would prove fruitful. It would bridge the gap between the heritage, Western philosophy and the current situation, and stop the ongoing process of Westernization. It would also reduce the divide between the elite and the public, making it easier to mobilize the people.44 Similarly, Muhammad ‘Imarah (b. 1931), another Islamist with a Marxist background, argues that continuity between the heritage of the Arab world and contemporary intellectual production is necessary for any progress.45 This is because being inspired and motivated by its heritage would help the Arab world to build self-confidence and would provide reassurance that the Arab nation is both authentic and ancient.46 This would result in the naturalizing of the enlightened elements of heritage within contemporary intellectual production.47 It is crucial, he insists in vague, general and poetic language, to select from the heritage that which glorifies reason, encourages science, provides an enlightened understanding of revealed texts, establishes social and economic justice, and guarantees human freedom and democracy.48 ‘Imarah, like Hanafi, asserts that the enlightened elements must be publicized not just to the elite, but to everybody.49 He also encourages the revival of the non-enlightened elements of the heritage so that the differences between them and the enlightened elements will be clearer.50 ‘Imarah goes on to explain that the heritage of Arab-Islamic

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philosophy, and in particular the Mu‘tazila, a school of speculative philosophy that flourished between the eighth and tenth centuries, could greatly contribute to Arab enlightenment.51 For ‘Imarah, the Mu‘tazila represent the authentic tendency within the Arab-Islamic heritage because they adopted rationality without following Greek philosophy.52 Similarly, ‘Imarah holds that Averroes occupies a central position in the Arab-Islamic heritage. He was the founder of the Arab rational peripatetic tradition, and his attempt at reconciling philosophy with religion was the deepest and most original within the Arab-Islamic sphere.53 Averroes’ harmony between religion and philosophy is, for ‘Imarah, a harmony between the mechanisms of nature and revelation.54 Furthermore, he believes that Averroes contributed to the rise of Europe, and this was why he was opposed by the anti-Enlightenment forces on the Islamic and Christian sides alike.55 Therefore, for ‘Imarah, the heritage represented by Averroes is the starting point for creating the Arab enlightenment. In his turn, Muhammad al-Ansari (b. 1939) asserts that a broad review of Arab-Islamic history shows that the Arab-Islamic civilization is one of reconciliation, primarily between Islam and the new intellectual and scientific developments.56 He argues that this characteristic of Arab-Islamic civilization has enabled it to be enriched by a variety of philosophical trends, leading to its superiority.57 For Ansari, Averroes, along with other philosophers, represents this aspect of the Arab-Islamic civilization, whereas Ghazali represents the opposite by being against philosophy.58 Ansari holds that the prevalence of Ghazali’s ideas eventually led to the decline of the Arab-Islamic civilization as the civilization’s capacity to reconcile Islam and philosophy was reduced.59 The main results of this today are the inability of the Arab-Islamic civilization to reconcile its own internal political and intellectual trends, and its inability to reconcile Islam with the modern world. Therefore, by rejecting the Enlightenment as a universal set of values (in favour of enlightenment) Ansari presents the concept of reconciliation, which he asserts is demonstrated by Averroes in Arab-Islamic culture, as the solution to today’s dilemma. The most significant contribution within the modern authentic discourse comes from Muhammad al-Jabri (d. 2010). Like his predecessors, he believed in the continuity between the heritage of the Arab-Islamic world and its present. This is because he held that a creative re-employment

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of the Arab-Islamic heritage in order to address the question of modernity is sounder than a direct employment of modern Western ideas.60 From 1999, Jabri led a project to collect, translate and interpret Averroes’ work.61 He explained that the reason for this project was not merely that Averroes’ work is important in itself, but also that ‘we, Arabs’ need him today; we need his critical spirit, his pursuit of truth and his scientific and ethical virtues.62 For Jabri, Averroes’ thought is a necessary introduction to any rebirth of ArabIslamic civilization through its own internal resources and mechanisms.63 Jabri criticizes the ways in which the heritage has been read within the contemporary Arab intellectual sphere, deeming them to be ahistorical and lacking objectivity.64 He is particularly against these readings’ use of analogical reasoning, which he identifies as the dominant logical reasoning in Arab history and one of the main reasons for the decline of Arab civilization. This, he explains, is because it does not encourage creative thinking, nor does it recognize the idea of progress. It employs reason merely to find similarities between the subject matters and precedent cases.65 Therefore, Jabri argues, any new reading of the heritage must create an epistemological rupture with analogical reasoning, as this ‘will help transform Arabs from humans who belong to heritage to humans who have heritage’.66 An objective reading of the heritage, Jabri maintains, means separating oneself from static subject matter. This involves reading it with no prior assumptions. It involves reading it in order to rediscover its meanings.67 Furthermore, the heritage should not be read in order to discover in it what we lack in the contemporary world.68 Jabri asserts that his method of reading the Arab-Islamic heritage is based on the successive strategies of disconnection and connection.69 Disconnection here means reading the heritage within its own historical conditions in terms of the primary questions of Arab-Islamic culture and thought, the answers that each author has provided to these questions and the epistemological contents of the text and its ideological implications.70 The strategy of disconnection involves three processes, and these are somewhat similar to the historical methodology advanced by Skinner and Pocock.71 The first is the structural treatment, which means refraining from reading the marginal ideas of the author but rather reading his whole thought.72 The second is historical analysis; this involves paying attention to the political, social, cultural and ideological dimensions of the text.73

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The third is the ideological content; this involves revealing the ideological function of the text.74 Connection, on the other hand, means making the heritage understood and readable today in order to enrich the Arab Self and to rebuild it.75 Here, Jabri introduces his conception of intuition, which has major implications for his later studies. For him, intuition means pushing logic to its limits in order to discover the possible developments of the contributions of Arab philosophers in the Middle Ages.76 He asserts that this strategy has three elements. The first is the continuity of the question of Islamic philosophy from its origins to the present day: that is, the question of the relationship between religion and philosophy.77 The second distinguishes between the epistemological and ideological content in Islamic philosophy.78 The third is to understand Islamic philosophy as individual, independent and diverse readings of Greek philosophy.79 During the 1980s, Jabri launched an influential series of books entitled Naqd al-‘aql al-‘arabi, or A Critique of Arab Reason. Kant’s influence can be seen in the title.80 According to the writer, the aim in doing so was not to study the ideas that have been produced by Arab reason, that is, Arab intellectual production but, rather, to study Arab reason itself, that is, Arab reason as the epistemological device that has produced, shaped and resulted in Arab intellectual production.81 He believes that Arabs, along with Greeks and modern Europeans, are the only nations to have succeeded in producing epistemological systems. In contrast, the ancient nations mixed science with superstition, and myths with magic.82 He argues that the epistemological systems that have been produced by Arab reason are bayan (eloquence), ‘irfan (mysticism) and burhan (rational proof). These have coexisted and overlapped throughout history, and no single one has succeeded in gaining precedence over the others. This contrasts with the Western intellectual sphere, where there has been a progression from the characteristic epistemological system of each historical era to the next.83 The West has progressed from the medieval era to the Renaissance and then to the modern era and each era has possessed its own dominant epistemology, but the Arab-Islamic intellectual sphere has been confined to the circular movement of these three epistemological systems. The result of this, according to Jabri, is the absence of the idea of progress within the Arab intellectual sphere. The epistemological system of bayan (eloquence), which Jabri considers to

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represent the authentic Arab-Islamic heritage,84 is characterized by the interaction between language and religion. The expansion of the Arab empire paradoxically resulted in a threat to the Arabic language from the conquered but more advanced nations of Persia, Egypt, Syria and Iraq. This pushed Arabs to protect their language by introducing the study of grammar to the Arabic language for the first time. It was based on an abstract mathematical process, and native Bedouins were hired to check the authenticity of the Arabic vocabulary. The result of this, Jabri argues, is that the grammar of the Arabic language has become non-historical and abstract, and its vocabulary has been unable to encompass the interaction between Arabs and other nations and to assimilate new technical and professional words. It has thus been restricted to the scant vocabulary of the Arab Bedouin tribes.85 This weakness in Arabic, Jabri claims, will influence Arab reason, and affect jurisprudence and theology.86 Jabri asserts that through the birth of its sciences – and by this he means the grammar of the Arabic language, jurisprudence and theology – bayan has four main principles. The first is that God can be known through speculation about the universe and by observing its order.87 The second is that God is one.88 The third is the belief in prophecy, which implies that not everyone can contact God directly.89 The fourth is the belief in the Qur’an as the divine word of God, as the proof of Muhammad’s prophecy and (consequently) the book that includes the truth.90 Although bayan dominated Arabia, which was the early centre of the Arab empire, Jabri claims that the pre-Islamic heritage in some parts of the empire (particularly in Persia, Iraq, Syria and Egypt) did not completely fade.91 He explains that this pre-Islamic heritage is the basis for the second epistemological system in the Arab-Islamic sphere, that of ‘irfan (mysticism). This epistemological system is, Jabri feels, the cause of the decline of the Arab civilization. It was adopted and modified by two main Islamic trends: the Isma‘ili branch of Shi‘i Islam92 and Sufism.93 The Sunni Abbasid regime led by al-Ma’mun (d. 833) was involved in a long-lasting power struggle with the Isma‘ilis. Jabri claims that this encouraged Ma’mun to initiate the translation of Greek philosophy into Arabic in order to gain the necessary intellectual ability and credibility to respond to the attacks of the Isma‘ilis. This included establishing the universal reason of Aristotle instead of the doctrines of Hermes.94 Aristotle

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was also important during Ma’mun’s reign because the Islamic empire was a very sophisticated political and economic entity that needed the sort of rational organization that was to be found in Aristotle’s philosophy.95 Therefore, the first Islamic philosopher, Kindi (c.801–73), was responsible for leading a state project to eliminate ‘irfan from the intellectual ArabIslamic sphere. Kindi, in order to undermine the epistemological pillars of Isma‘ilism, asserted that knowledge had three sources: senses, reason and divine knowledge through the prophets.96 He was followed by Farabi (c.872–951), an Islamic scientist and philosopher known as the ‘Second Teacher’ (Aristotle being the first), who engaged deeply with Aristotle’s books and argued that reason is a self-sufficient source of knowledge.97 As a result, burhan (rational proof),98 the third epistemological system, was established. This means that by the end of Ma’mun’s reign three epistemological systems hostile to one other – bayan, ‘irfan and burhan – coexisted in the Arab-Islamic sphere. Jabri draws a comparison between the philosophical traditions in the eastern and western wings of the Islamic world in their treatment of these three epistemological systems. For him, Avicenna adopted the Hermetic philosophy99 and Ghazali tried to reconcile bayan with ‘irfan. By doing so, Jabri asserts, both men played major roles in the rise of irrationality in the Arab-Islamic sphere, although in Jabri’s eyes Avicenna’s influence in this respect was greater even than Ghazali’s.100 Jabri claims that Avicenna’s philosophy and his attack on Greek philosophy represented a growing national Persian consciousness.101 Avicenna’s student, Sahrawardi (d. 1191), was even more open about this national tendency, writing in Persian instead of Arabic.102 In a similar way to how Kindi had been employed by Ma’mun, Ghazali was employed by the Seljuq state to provide an intellectual defence against the Isma‘ili attack. He wrote his books in order to reject the Neoplatonic theory of emanation and the esoteric interpretation of the religious texts. However, Jabri claims that, although Ghazali fought against Isma‘ili doctrines and their philosophical grounds, he actually believed in their aims in a different way by being a Sufi.103 In North Africa and Andalusia the Umayyad dynasty was able to establish a new state in ad 756. This included the whole of Andalusia after they were overthrown in the Middle East by the Abbasid dynasty. This encouraged the Umayyads to try to establish distinct epistemological

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grounds for their new state and their fragile independence. The work of Ibn Hazm (d. 1064) was the expression of this new ideology. Firstly, bayan was to be reformed through Ibn Hazm’s rejection of the grammar of the Arabic language and of Shafi‘i’s syllogism in jurisprudence. Secondly, burhan was to be naturalized into the Andalusian sphere through an assertion that knowledge is based only on reason and senses.104 Jabri goes further by claiming that the philosophy of Andalusia was secular because it was established on mathematics and logic, and also because it did not aim at reconciling religion with philosophy as Avicenna had tried to do in the east.105 Ibn Hazm dealt with bayan and burhan as if they were two distinct domains, a view that was later expressed by Averroes. According to Jabri, this difference between the eastern and western Arab world in dealing with the relationship between religion and philosophy was caused by the fact that the philosophers who lived in the east tried to unite their societies politically. This was achieved by eliminating theological and philosophical disputes, and by consolidating religion with philosophy in one formula. The issue of political unity was not a matter of concern in the west,106 because North Africa and Andalusia were already united into a distinct political entity. The collapse of the Almohad dynasty, which happened at the same time as Averroes’ catastrophic exile (which will be discussed in detail in Chapter 2), gave the followers of the advocate of Sufism in Andalusia, Ibn Masarah (d. 883), an opportunity to enhance ‘irfan in this region.107 Therefore, according to Jabri, after being defeated in the eastern wing of the Arab-Islamic world, burhan was also defeated in the western wing, and the decline of the Arab-Islamic civilization had become inevitable. Jabri argues that there were two defining moments in the history of Islamic philosophy. The first was the epistemological rise of the theory of emanation combined with the ideological rise of the idea of consolidating religion with philosophy, a form of spiritual idealism that originated with Farabi and reached its peak with Avicenna.108 The second was the growth in epistemological significance of Ibn Hazm combined with the expanding ideological grasp of the idea of a distinction between religion and philosophy. This originated in particular in Morocco and Andalusia with Avempace – also known as Ibn Bajja – (d. 1138) and reached its peak with Averroes.109 For Jabri, because the latter moment had already encompassed and surpassed the first, it is sensible today to

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study the latter one, that is, Averroes’ moment.110 Jabri holds that what is alive in our heritage must be Rushdian.111 He had argued earlier that the coexistence of the three epistemological systems within the Arab-Islamic sphere indicates a lack of progress, but here he contradicts himself by claiming that Arabs should recall Averroes’ moment because it was more progressive that Avicenna’s. Such a contradiction reveals the ideological motives behind Jabri’s historical study of the heritage; like Anton, he finds the Averroes whom he seeks. He goes on to argue that the epistemological content of Islamic philosophy is already dead because it was built on Aristotle’s physics. This has been replaced by contemporary science.112 In this way, we have only the ideological content that was produced for the future.113 It seems that Jabri may have combined this idea about the futuristic employment of ideology with his notion of intuition. He explains that what can be used from Averroes’ philosophy is his rejection of the irrational mysticism of Avicenna and Ghazali and his assertion about the direct and innate understanding of Islam.114 Furthermore, Averroes rejects the theological method of argumentation that is based on analogical reasoning, and puts forward the distinction between the domain of reason and the domain of revelation, saying that they are independent of each other.115 Therefore, Jabri maintains, just as the spirits of Hume and Locke are still present in the minds of the British, and that of Descartes in the minds of the French, Averroes’ spirit should be present in the minds of the Arabs instead of that of Avicenna or Ghazali.116 Jabri argues that Averroes differs from the other philosophers because he defended philosophy by jurisprudence as well as by philosophy itself.117 He also mistakenly claims that, because of Averroes’ theory of the modes of discourse, his work Fasl al-maqal fima bayn-l-hikmat wa-l-shari‘ah min-littisal (or Decisive Treatise on the Relation of Philosophy and Religion) should not be understood merely as an attempt to reconcile philosophy with religion but also as an attempt to establish and codify the desired relationship between religion and society.118 He adds that, despite its position in the eastern wing of the Islamic world, there was no intention to consolidate religion into philosophy or vice versa in the western wing because theological schools were virtually absent. This resulted in the separation of the domains of philosophy and religion.119 Jabri highlights the ultimate political aim of Averroes’ theory of interpretation. He states

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that it is because Averroes was aware of the political use of the religious debates that he argues that the interpretation of the religious texts must not be divulged to the public, in order to prevent political actors from using religion in politics.120 Furthermore, Jabri tries to prove that Averroes was independent of the state and that he had his own scientific interests that were developed gradually by the progress of his own philosophical enquiry.121 He highlights Averroes’ critique of his society, particularly his attack on the situation of women in his own country and the political regime.122 Although Jabri proves that Averroes’ philosophical project was apolitical by admitting that the latter’s Commentary on Plato’s Republic has a clear pedagogical purpose,123 he employs Averroes’ critique of his own society as an indication of the political aims of the commentary. He claims that it was the first time in Arab culture that a philosopher had criticized tyranny in clear words.124 A more accurate analysis in Chapters 2, 4 and 5 of this book will show that Jabri’s claim is mistaken. It is clear that for the modern authentic discourse the Arab-Islamic heritage is a valid source to use to enhance the Arab Self. It does this by showing that Arabs are capable of achieving their own enlightenment from within. In this, Averroes’ thought is interpreted as embodying the preconditions for any enlightenment: self-critique, creativity and rationality. However, the Westernized discourse presents completely different accounts of the heritage and its possible uses, the value of Averroes’ enlightenment and its relationship to Averroes’ thought.

Advocates of the Westernized discourse ‘Aziz al-‘Azmah (b. 1947) is among the advocates of the Westernized discourse who do not consider the Arab-Islamic heritage to be significant or useful to the Arab world’s quest to achieve enlightenment. In his critique of Jabri, he believes that the latter has presented a good analysis of the heritage but has tried to employ it ideologically.125 ‘Azmah also criticizes Jabri’s approach for ignoring the rational and scientific contributions of Pythagoras and the Hermetic tradition in general.126 ‘Azmah rejects in principle the use of heritage as an intellectual authority in today’s debates on modernity. He criticizes all attempts to reconcile the Arab-Islamic heritage with Western modernity. For him, all these attempts seek to reconcile

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fading elements in history with an imagined and desirable future in which the present is absent.127 What is more, scholars involved in such attempts promise to select what they call the ‘enlightened elements’ of the heritage, which makes ‘Azmah justifiably wonder what the criteria for selection are, and how they are to be applied to the issues of today.128 After referring to some practical examples from the intellectual spheres in the Arab world since the 1970s, ‘Azmah warns that Arab political regimes will interfere in the process of selection in order to enhance their political legitimacy. This will be done by using that heritage as a symbolic ideology.129 Instead, ‘Azmah suggests realizing the historicity of the heritage by establishing what he calls a ‘theoretical relationship’ with the texts.130 This means refraining from installing the text as an intellectual authority over the present and the future, as well as refraining from understanding the text according to present-day perspectives.131 He rejects any idea of continuity between the heritage of medieval Islamic philosophers and the present day. For him, the historicity of the heritage involves an awareness of the idea that ‘what is dead in the heritage has already disappeared, and what is alive is not heritage any more and must be considered part of the present’.132 This also involves the idea that the heritage should be studied with an awareness of the social, historical and linguistic conditions that produced the text.133 ‘Azmah highlights some examples from the Renaissance and the Enlightenment, when Greek philosophy and Roman heritage respectively were employed with a full awareness of their historical limits rather than their intellectual authority.134 On the other hand, he shows that employing heritage as an authority was a characteristic of the anti-Enlightenment religious and political powers in Europe such as the Churches and absolute monarchies.135 The harshest and most significant attack on Jabri’s contribution comes from Jurj Trabishi (b. 1939), who is also among the advocates of the idea that Arab thinkers should disregard Arab-Islamic literary and philosophical heritage in their quest for enlightenment, or at least they should not use it as a valid basis for constructing an enlightened culture. He calls for a critical treatment of the heritage instead of attempts at overcoming it.136 Trabishi calls this strategy ‘dual openness’, because it implies being open to the past, as represented in the heritage, and at the same time being open to the future through contemporary intellectual production.137 Like ‘Azmah,

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Trabishi does not accept any suggestion of continuity between the heritage and the present, nor that this continuity can or should be created. He argues that the Islamic and Christian philosophical traditions in the Middle Ages were characterized by a subjugation of reason to revelation. Averroes himself was no exception to this attitude.138 In the Middle Ages, the difference between the Christian philosophical tradition and the Islamic one was that the question of the relationship between reason and revelation in Christianity took the form of the relationship between faith and reason instead of the Islamic dichotomy of revelation and reason. This was because the holy book of Christianity was a translated book, so the majority of the uneducated public were not able to refer to the original text.139 On the other hand, the holy book of Islam was available to the public in its original language. This enabled the majority of people to refer to the revealed text and treat it as a valid authority through time. Trabishi seems to hint that this preserved authority in the revealed Islamic text explains why reconciling reason with revelation was a more difficult project within the Islamic philosophical tradition. In his criticism of Arab reason, Trabishi, like ‘Azmah, criticizes Jabri’s treatment of the Arab-Islamic heritage for its lack of critique and for participating in past debates by supporting one particular point of view over another.140 For Trabishi, epistemologically, Jabri was supporting burhan over bayan, and bayan over ‘irfan. What is more, from an ideological perspective he was supporting Sunni Islam over Shi‘i Islam, and geographically he was supporting the Moroccan and Andalusian western philosophical tradition over the eastern.141 Trabishi holds that Jabri, by claiming that some elements of the heritage remain valid and relevant, hindered the theological revolution by showing that there is no need for it.142 In addition, Trabishi criticizes Jabri’s claim that the Greek, Arab and European philosophical traditions practised thinking in reason as well as thinking by reason, referring to Jabri’s claim that Greeks, Arabs and Europeans were the only nations that created epistemological systems. For him, such a claim does not reject the European ethnocentrism that reached its peak in Hegel’s philosophy, but merely expands it to make it inclusive of Arabs.143 Trabishi hints that Jabri highlights the contradiction between the Greek philosophical system and its Arab counterpart in order to prove that the latter also contradicts the European philosophical system to reject modernity.144

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Trabishi underestimates the role of the irrational pre-Islamic heritage in Arab-Islamic philosophy. He shows that the people of Haran, whom Jabri accused of being the source of many irrational ideas, were mainly Muslims.145 He argues that Jabri exaggerated the philosophical role of the pre-Islamic heritage in the decline of the Arab-Islamic civilization in order to serve his ideological ends, and to blame the non-Arab, non-Sunni elements of the Islamic civilization.146 He argues that the idea of the divine origin of the soul is not only a Hermetic one: it is also a Platonic doctrine.147 Furthermore, he explains that the letters of the Ikhwan al-Safa, or ‘Brethren of Purity’, assert the superiority of philosophy and logic,148 that the Fatimid Isma‘ili state never adopted these letters and that they were not part of the pedagogical system of Isma‘ili Islam.149 The letters, Trabishi explains, were ascribed to Isma‘ilism by their Sunni opponents in order to link philosophy with the esoteric sects.150 He claims that the letters cannot be Isma‘ili because they glorify the first four rulers of the Islamic state (although the first three rulers are not considered to be legitimate by Shi‘i Islam),151 reject sectarianism within Islam, criticize Shi‘i Islam in general152 and disagree with the Shi‘i political belief that the Prophet’s descendants had the exclusive right to rule.153 The theory of knowledge in the letters is committed to reason and experience and rejects mysticism,154 which makes it even closer to Averroes’ theory of knowledge.155 Trabishi criticizes Jabri for ascribing illuminative philosophy to Avicenna because of the marginalized comments in his thoughts, or even because of what Jabri expects to be written in Avicenna’s lost books.156 In contrast, Trabishi justly places Avicenna (as well as Averroes) within the Aristotelian tradition. For him, the difference between Avicenna and Averroes is the fact that Avicenna tried to innovate within the peripatetic tradition while Averroes remained a loyal student of Aristotle.157 The other distinctions between Avicenna and Averroes are caused firstly by vague Aristotelian expressions such as the one on the relationship between reason and soul, and secondly by poor translation from Greek into Arabic.158 Nevertheless, the difference between the two men is within the peripatetic tradition, not outside it, and Averroes’ debate with Avicenna shows that the Averroes believed that Avicenna still belonged to the Aristotelian tradition.159 Trabishi supports his argument by showing that Avicenna clearly rejected both the Hermetic tradition and mysticism.160 He also shows that

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Averroes’ idea of the soul is not far removed from Avicenna’s ideas on the subject.161 In addition to this, Averroes, like Avicenna, criticized many of the Greek and Arab commentators on Aristotle.162 Trabishi asserts that, unlike Avicenna, Averroes had the advantage of having virtually all of Aristotle’s books translated into Arabic in his time. This enabled him to advance a more complete interpretation of Aristotle’s thought.163 Trabishi claims that Averroes did not reject the emanation theory completely. Rather, he tried to reconcile it with Aristotle’s philosophy and with revelation alike through his theory of constant creation.164 Trabishi seems to value Avicenna’s contribution more than Averroes. He accuses Averroes of lacking innovation within the Aristotelian tradition, leading him to judge the truth or falsity of any premise through Aristotle without any independent thinking.165 Trabishi concludes that, while Avicenna understood innovation as an emancipation from Aristotle, Averroes understood it as purifying Aristotle from any innovative interpretation.166 Therefore, for Trabishi, Averroes cannot be considered an advocate of the Enlightenment. By being the reformative figure within the Aristotelian tradition, his thought is a happy ending to the Middle Ages, but it is not the beginning of the modern era.167 Another argument provided by Trabishi concerning the unity of Arab reason is his claim that there was no coherent Moroccan or Andalusian school of philosophy.168 Instead, philosophy in the Western wing of the Arab-Islamic world was dominated by the inconsistent, individual and discrete contributions of the philosophers.169 Averroes himself was no exception.170 This leads Trabishi to assert that there were no political motives for Averroes’ catastrophic exile. Jabri had argued this to hide the fact that philosophy was under attack in Andalusia.171 Furthermore, in contrast to Jabri’s claims, Trabishi identifies certain crucial factors that undermined the position of philosophy in the western wing of the Arab-Islamic world, as shown by the scarcity of philosophers: there was a constant state of war with the Christian powers of Iberia; a coalition between the political regimes and the religious leaders; a lack of a translation movement (most of the philosophers in Morocco and Andalusia did not know Greek); and a lack of religious diversity.172 Owing to the fact that he shows that Avicenna and Averroes were operating within the same epistemological framework, Trabishi holds that

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this demonstrates the epistemological unity of Arab reason. This contrasts with Jabri’s claim concerning the coexistence of three epistemological systems.173 Trabishi, however, could use the above arguments on the unity of Arab reason to correctly refute Jabri’s claim that the existence of these three epistemological systems was due to a geographical division within the Arab-Islamic world: a rational west and an irrational east. But he could not refute the coexistence of these three epistemological systems as such. Although Trabishi does not believe that Averroes was an early advocate of enlightenment, he still believes that his thought is particularly valuable. He maintains that Averroes’ philosophy was original, proving that Arabs, as a Semitic ethnic group, were capable of producing philosophy.174 More importantly, Averroes being a judge proved that Islam is not inherently or substantially opposed to philosophy. Trabishi argues that the rejection of philosophy played a crucial role in the decline of the Arab-Islamic civilization and the rise of the West.175 The Arab-Islamic civilization became static because of the separation of religion and culture, which took place after Ghazali’s Tahafut al-falasifah gained popularity.176 Therefore, a process of ‘re-civilization’ by enhancing the relationship between religion on the one hand and modern culture and the modern world on the other hand was necessary.177 This being so, Trabishi, as an advocate of secularism in the Arab intellectual sphere, rejects the idea of the continuity of the Arab-Islamic heritage to the present day. Although he does not deny the idea that the seeds of secularism might be found in the heritage, he holds that these seeds may be discovered after a rupture with that heritage occurs, but not before it.178 He believes that ‘secularism was a pre-condition of the European modernity’179 and therefore that ‘it is a pre-condition of the Arab modernity’.180 As a Christian, he rejects the idea that secularism was advocated by the Christian Arabs in order to achieve more of a balance with the Muslim majority. He argues that many Muslims promoted the idea of secularism, as well as the many Christians who did so because they wanted to re-form the relationship between themselves and their religious leaders.181 Trabishi calls for joining the globalization movement, which is based on the universal values of modernity. This could be done by establishing a painful process of critique of the Arab-Islamic heritage.182 This may result in the new reconciliation between the Arabic culture and

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the new world that Ansari calls for. He contends that there is no such thing as Arab contemporary philosophy because philosophy, as a speculation on nature and the universe, has been restricted by the rise of empirical science. The only task left for philosophy today, according to Trabishi, is to contribute to the formation of the epistemology of science. However, he says, as Arabs do not contribute to scientific discoveries, they cannot even contribute towards forming its epistemology.183 Another reason given is that the Arab intellectual sphere is not rational yet, and rationality is a pre-condition of any philosophy.184 In addition, all the contemporary philosophical questions have already been discussed by the Western philosophers, leaving only a marginal role for Arab philosophers.185 Another significant figure within the Westernized discourse is Muhammad Arkoun (b. 1928). He believes that continuity should be created between the Arab-Islamic heritage and the present for pragmatic reasons. Arkoun calls his approach ‘critical and historical methodology’186 or, alternatively, ‘applied Islamology’.187 He asserts that it will expand Kant’s critical project to the domain of ‘historical epistemology’.188 He is also deeply influenced by postmodern thought. This leads him to deny the existence of universal reason, and he refers to different reasons and different methods of rationalization based on social and historical conditions.189 This influence is also shown in his conception of reason as a systemic unity of conceptions entering history and governing it for a particular period of time before fading.190 The result is that Arkoun’s approach goes beyond the philosophical tradition of the Middle Ages to encompass religious texts (including the Qur’an). He calls for an understanding of them according to their human context.191 Arkoun has several aims in employing what he calls the historical and open applicable method. The first is to study all the intellectual writings that have been produced within the Arab-Islamic sphere, even those that are considered heresy by orthodox Islam. His approach resembles that of Hanafi in this respect.192 Arkoun promotes the re-reading of the non-official narratives of Islamic history, particularly those concerning the emergence of Islam, through a historic examination of revelation and the first generation of Muslims, to which he believes that those of the Abbasid era added myths. This will lead, according to him, to discovering the unthought and the unthinkable in the intellectual history of Islam.193 He claims that

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such an approach will enable him to move forward from Islamic studies towards a questioning of all religious and secularized heritages, including the Enlightenment itself.194 For him, the Islamic heritage in particular has been sacralized through history in order to give legitimacy to some political practices. Only a historical critique is capable of removing this sacred veil.195 Arkoun’s second aim is to enrich studies with all the newly developed methods and sciences.196 He calls for the use of modern methods in studying social science, history, psychology and anthropology in order to understand the Arab-Islamic heritage.197 In this regard, he urges that the Arab-Islamic heritage be analysed on six levels: linguistic, historical, sociological, anthropological, philosophical and theological.198 He also advocates the use of the new scientific achievements in physics, chemistry, biology and astronomy to liberate Arab-Islamic reason from the epistemological restrictions of dogmatic reason.199 This includes investigating the relationship between language and thought in the Islamic heritage.200 In an oblique critique of Jabri, he criticizes modern studies of the Arab-Islamic heritage for aiming to revive it with reverence, not to evaluate and critique it.201 Arkoun’s third and most important aim is to employ the evaluated heritage, after a process of selection, to today’s argument about modernity in Arab-Islamic thought.202 He seeks to avoid reading the Arab-Islamic heritage with reverence as he believes that such a reading is an obstacle to modernity. This implies re-reading the entire Arab-Islamic heritage and eliminating all the elements within it that hinder enlightenment and progress.203 Such an approach shows that Arkoun intends to maintain some continuity between the Arab-Islamic heritage and the present. This step is important for Arkoun as it fulfils two pragmatic aims. The first is to bridge the gap between the intellectual elites on the one hand, and the religious elites and the public on the other. Arkoun criticizes the first generation of Arab enlightenment thinkers for ignoring their heritage by being ‘enslaved’ by Western intellectual schools. This caused them to be alienated from their own societies and it widened the gap between them and the traditional religious elites.204 The second, more obvious, aim is to use the enlightened elements of the Arab-Islamic heritage to fight Islamic fundamentalism. He thinks that the current Islamic fundamentalism highlights only the non-enlightened elements in the Arab-Islamic heritage, and re-employs

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them in the current intellectual debate.205 Therefore, Arkoun calls for the adoption of the best of the two worlds: the best of the Enlightenment and the best of the Arab-Islamic heritage as a means of fighting Islamic fundamentalism.206 However, he admits that there is an ‘epistemological gap’ between the two ages.207 For him, it is crucial to remind Muslims of the classical enlightened aspects of their history and the need to fight Islamic fundamentalism.208 He asserts that young students must know that their ancestors led a humanist and rationalist movement before Europe did.209 Arkoun then turns to the application of his idea of the pragmatic continuity between the heritage and the present. He asserts that the Arab-Islamic civilization witnessed what he calls a ‘primitive Enlightenment’ seven centuries before the European Enlightenment.210 There was a type of secular humanism in the Arab-Islamic sphere and it had started in ad 889.211 He argues that Islamic philosophy has declared the independence of reason since Kindi.212 Arkoun claims that Averroes, side by side with Maimonides and Thomas Aquinas, was part of a struggle toward achieving humanism.213 Averroes, in particular, was important in this respect. For Arkoun, Averroes represents the ability of reason to produce a truth independent of revelation, and, at the same time, to be able and entitled to interpret it.214 More importantly, he presents Averroes as if he were a postmodern philosopher. He does this by claiming that Averroes believed in the historicity of reason instead of transcendental reason. This made him a significant influence on European modernity through, for example, the separation of a priori and empirical knowledge, and sacred matters and human.215 Arkoun draws a comparison between medieval reason and the reason of the Enlightenment in order to highlight the gap between them. For him, the first was imprisoned within the theological view, while the latter was sovereign and independent.216 He admits that the seeds of social justice and human dignity can be found in the texts of three monotheistic religions: Judaism, Christianity and Islam. However, the texts deal with a relationship with God, not a pact between humans. The latter is the achievement of the age of the Enlightenment.217 Arkoun maintains that what he terms ‘Islamic reason’ always originated from God and is transcendental.218 Modernity, on the other hand, draws on a theological rupture by Luther, and an epistemological one by Copernicus and Galileo.219 Arkoun defines political

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modernity as the establishment of the modern, national, democratic and secular state based on a social contract.220 Moreover, it gives political sovereignty to people, not to religion.221 In the ethical domain, it separates ethics and law from religion, giving reason superiority over everything.222 Nevertheless, he asserts that the borders between the two eras are not fixed, because the thought of some Islamic philosophers, such as Averroes, can be considered to be an introduction to, or even part of, the age of the Enlightenment.223 In this regard Arkoun criticizes those who deny the historical conditions of the values of the Enlightenment by attaching them to Islam and to the Islamic heritage.224 He believes, for example, that there was no tolerance before the age of the Enlightenment because this concept only relates to that particular age.225 For Arkoun, the decline of this primitive Enlightenment was caused by sociological reasons more than intellectual ones.226 From the example of the debate between Ghazali and Averroes, Arkoun concludes that sociological facts played a greater role than the logical and intellectual structure of philosophical texts in determining the survival of philosophy in the Arab-Islamic sphere.227 He also holds that Arab-Islamic scholarship always tends to exclude the public from its discourse. This is based on the hostility between the city, where the elite lives, and the countryside, where the masses reside.228 In the Western wing of the Islamic world, this was represented by the Almoravid dynasty’s decision to ignore the Arabic and Berber dialects in favour of classical Arabic.229 Arkoun sees globalization as a process of universalizing modernity.230 However, his postmodern background leads him to also call for the overcoming of religious dogma, heritage – including Averroes – and the Enlightenment, and the acceptance of postmodern reason.231 In order to show the danger of religious dogma, Arkoun compares pre-Enlightenment Europe and present-day Arab society. In the past, he claims, religion missed its real purpose in Europe by being a means of repression and ignorance, and this encouraged the philosophy of the Enlightenment to rebel against it. The same thing, he insists, is happening today in the Arab-Islamic sphere.232 This, for him, shows the necessity of adopting modern Western values, as he believes that the Arab-Islamic civilization and Western civilization share the same roots: Semitic monotheistic religions and Greek philosophy.233 But the Enlightenment became a will towards hegemony and expansion: it

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became another dogma.234 Furthermore, although he argues that Averroes was an early advocate of the Enlightenment, Arkoun asserts that Arabs will at some point produce philosophy that surpasses that of Averroes. For Arkoun, this philosophy, which used Aristotle’s ideas, asserted that there was merely one truth.235 In contrast, Arkoun believes that truth is a social and linguistic construction; it is not metaphysical or transcendental.236 For him, Arabs and Muslims should abandon their conceptions of religious and philosophical transcendental truths, and replace them with a conception of historical truth by keeping with the postmodern tradition.237 The call for continuity between the Arab-Islamic heritage and the present in any development of an Arab enlightenment also comes from Marxist thought. Tayyib Tizini (b. 1934) argues that many researchers have failed to provide a scientific view of the cultural heritage of the ArabIslamic world because they have ignored the relationship between intellectual production and political, social and economic conditions.238 He holds that it is a mistake to reject the heritage as a whole. Overcoming the current situation of national division and a lack of development requires a cultural revolution that adopts the best of both worlds: the Arab-Islamic heritage and modern philosophical productions in a deep dialectical unity.239 Tizini rejects the idea that the past interprets the present, finding in it a sort of Salavism or contemporary nihilism.240 Instead, like Trabishi, he suggests the opposite: the past should be interpreted according to the present.241 Tizini suggests the methods of historical adaptation, inspiration by heritage and historical exclusion to deal with the heritage.242 Epistemologically, Tizini believes that there are universal elements of the heritage and these should be re-employed in any discourse of modernity. He calls this process ‘the method of historical adaptation’.243 He also suggests that inspiration can be found from the non-universal contingent elements of the heritage. These may have validity if they are treated creatively so that a diversity of opinions can occur, and ideological elements are excluded.244 Ideologically, he suggests using education to interpret the heritage according to today’s needs.245 As a Marxist, Tizini provides a materialistic interpretation of the rise of philosophy in general, and the rise of Arab-Islamic philosophy in particular. He argues that materialism is older and more original than idealism because it relates to the very beginnings of man as a physical

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entity.246 The rise of philosophy was linked to the division of labour into intellectual activities and physical activities, which led to the division of people into masters and slaves.247 However, man’s consciousness of his weakness contributed to the impulse of idealism, and Plato’s theory of knowledge and the rise of religiosity can be seen as an expression of this.248 Tizini asserts that Aristotle’s position in history lies in being the first to convert the human mind from that of the mythological era to that of the philosophical materialistic era.249 This led to another transmutation: the collective consciousness transformed into the classical one.250 This occurred through Aristotle’s concept of matter, in contrast to Plato’s concept of ideas.251 Tizini applies his materialistic reading to Arab-Islamic philosophy. He holds that because of its rationality and its assertion of human freedom, the theological school of the Mu‘tazila played a significant role in the rise of philosophy in the Arab-Islamic sphere.252 Moreover, in contrast to the commonly held belief, Tizini asserts that Muslim philosophers did not try to reconcile religion with philosophy. Rather, they tried to make reason legitimate.253 Farabi’s political work, in particular, has a classical meaning for Tizini because it represented the interests of the oppressed: the peasants, the slaves and Farabi himself, who was poor.254 Farabi tried to bridge the gap between God and man that is created by Islam. He attempted to do so by adopting the theory of emanation, which does not present God as transcendental.255 Averroes occupies a central position in Tizini’s analysis. Averroes’ theory of knowledge and his critique of that of Plato showed his materialism, and the growth of trade and capitalism in Andalusia at that time contributed to this.256 By adopting Aristotle’s physics, Averroes fully bridges the gap between God and man. This is why, for Tizini, Averroes’ ideas represent the peak of materialistic heretic thought within Arab-Islamic philosophy. By contrast, Ghazali’s ideas represent the exact opposite: the peak of idealist thought.257 In summary, advocates of the Westernized discourse, particularly those who employ the heritage pragmatically, try to incorporate and adjust the values that were created and developed in the West within the ArabIslamic intellectual sphere. Selected elements of the Arab-Islamic heritage that can justify and authenticate such outcomes of the Enlightenment as secularism, science, Marxism and even postmodernism are employed in

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this project. Averroes’ thought, in particular, is seen by the thinkers of the Westernized school as the main source for this process of justification and authentication. Inevitably, this indicates that ideology, not historical accuracy, motivates and colours their studies on Averroes. It is clear that contemporary Arab thinkers have attempted to deal with the question of Averroes’ relationship to enlightenment ideologically: if Averroes was an advocate of enlightenment – the Enlightenment, for some – then his thought can be a valuable source for achieving Arab enlightenment today. In this book, this matter will be transformed into a historical question: was Averroes an advocate of enlightenment? A historical question of this kind needs historical treatment, and this must be achieved through historical methodology.

Methodological approaches to the history of political thought There have been a number of different methodological approaches to interpreting past political texts. Although the most well-known one is that of Leo Strauss (1899–1973), the approach developed by J. G. A. Pocock and Quentin Skinner is, in fact, best suited to carrying out a comparative and historical study of the thought of Averroes and that of Kant.

The Straussian approach The Straussian approach derives from Leo Strauss, who gives political philosophy an ideal and normative character. In his influential 1959 book What is Political Philosophy? Strauss argues that political action is guided by political thought, which means that thought is prior to action.258 For him, political thought is produced in order to advocate something good, or to prevent something bad, in society.259 It relates, therefore, to sets of normative questions about what is good and what is just for society: questions about the political good.260 Political philosophy emerges if the question of political good is dealt with systemically and deliberately.261 It is called philosophy because of its deep and comprehensive insight into its subject: politics.262 It deals with the ultimate goals of political actions, which are freedom and government.263 In the same way that philosophy is the pursuit of universal knowledge, political philosophy aims at knowing the nature of political phenomena and what the good and just order is. It invokes

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a priori and transcendental standards to evaluate political phenomena and arguments.264 Strauss’ belief in these transcendental standards is one of the main points that distinguish his approach from others. However, Strauss draws a distinction between political philosophy and the history of political philosophy. For him, the latter tells us how the philosophers of the past have dealt with political issues, which in turn tells us about political life at a particular time and in a particular place.265 He contends that the history of political thought is not an ‘integral’ part of political philosophy, but merely ‘preliminary and auxiliary’ to it.266 Strauss’ argument here differs from the argument advanced by historicists of various kinds, who hold that a firm distinction cannot be made between universal philosophical questions and historically and culturally conditioned questions.267 Strauss contends that as historicism goes deeper in analysing what ‘political’ is, ‘it must be regarded as a new philosophical school’.268 Strauss holds that with the recent rise of logical positivism, political philosophy has become an antagonist of political science: the political philosophy is unscientific and political science is unphilosophical.269 Logical positivism draws a crucial distinction between value judgement and factual judgement, and insists that knowledge arises from the latter alone.270 This leads to the decay of political philosophy as a set of value judgement statements, in favour of political science as a set of factual judgement statements. Strauss resists this development. He criticizes logical positivism firstly on the basis that it is impossible, he claims, to deal with social (political) phenomena without value judgements.271 We cannot understand any political phenomenon without understanding what is political, and we cannot understand what is political without having an a priori conception of what society or the state is, and so on. This makes a value judgement inevitable.272 Secondly, he says that logical positivism transforms itself into historicism when dealing with non-Western cultures.273 In order to avoid interpreting these cultures according to a modern, Western conceptual scheme, logical positivism aims to understand them in the same way that they understand themselves.274 In other words, it understands these cultures historically, and this historical understanding becomes the empirical ground for understanding this or that society in the present.275 For Strauss, such a method of understanding contradicts the basic claim of positivism to be free of values because historical answers might also be

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subjective and normative.276 In other words, the historical answers to a culture may still carry a degree of value judgement. For Strauss, historicism is the opponent of political philosophy.277 Historicism has developed and distinguished itself from positivism, firstly by rejecting the distinction between value judgement and factual judgement; secondly by rejecting the authority of modern science.278 Nevertheless, Strauss argues that historicism still rejects the question of the good society because of its historical, or relativist, principles.279 He believes that historicism is based on the idea of progress.280 This implies a prejudice towards the current age and against past ages, through the belief that the present is superior to the past. He criticizes this approach by arguing that it does not enable us to understand the philosophy of the past except as a preparation for the present. It does not allow us to understand the past in the same way that it understood itself.281 Historicism, Strauss holds, is a philosophy that views all kinds of human intellectual activities as historical.282 It rejects any suggestion of a universal answer to political issues in favour of historical and progressive ones.283 Furthermore, it transforms philosophical questions on the state, civilization and humanity into historical questions on the modern state, our civilization and modern humans. Therefore, Strauss argues, it replaces ‘one kind of finality by another kind of finality, by the final convention that all human answers are essentially and radically “historical”’.284 He does not deny that philosophers reflect on their own historical conditions, but he argues that they do so merely in order to enhance their particular universal philosophical enquiries. This means that the historical and the philosophical elements in Strauss’ own philosophy are not identical.285 For him, to say that political philosophy is historically conditioned does not mean that it is untrue, just as if we say that ‘certain propositions of modern natural law “go back” to positive Roman law, it does not show their invalidity’.286 This opposition to historicism on the one hand, and the belief in a universal truth embodied in political philosophy on the other, leads Strauss to favour classical political philosophy, giving it the prestigious position of embodying the universal truth. He maintains that it possesses what Hegel calls ‘natural consciousness’ as the source of the fundamental concepts that influenced successive philosophical traditions.287 What is more, it represents what Hume calls the ‘first-hand experience’ of the human mind,

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and therefore it does not need history.288 Strauss holds that all post-classical philosophical traditions were mere modifications or refutations of classical political philosophy, and that this proves that all the philosophical traditions were dependent on it.289 The philosophy of the Middle Ages was based solely on classical philosophy and therefore it had no need for history.290 However, due to the idea of progress, modern philosophy broke with classical philosophy and the need for history emerged as a consequence.291 Strauss also believes that we cannot understand modern political philosophy without understanding classical political philosophy.292 This is because the modern tradition has shown itself to be incompatible with philosophy by addressing the themes of nature and science. This contrasts with the classical tradition, which confined itself to the city and man.293 For him, this turns modern political philosophy into mere ideology.294 Strauss seems to believe that the progress of science has become a comprehensive ideology of progress, making the developments of every era relative and historical. This is exemplified in the ongoing replacement of political philosophy with the history of political philosophy.295 He believes that this attempt ‘means to replace a doctrine which claims to be true by a survey of more or less brilliant errors’.296 In order to provide proof that it embodies the universal truth, Strauss discusses the truism that classical political philosophy is against democracy. For him, this commonly held belief ignores two facts. The first is that classical political philosophy appreciated the advantages of democracy, as exemplified in Plato’s Republic.297 The second is that although freedom is the essence of democracy, it was not the main theme of the classicists. They concentrated instead on virtues.298 The result was a belief on the part of the classicists that virtues could be exercised only in an aristocratic republic.299 Strauss does show that the concentration on virtue rather than on freedom began again during what he calls the second wave of modernity: that advocated by the Romantic Movement and German idealism.300 The first wave of modernity, which was initiated by Machiavelli, rejected everything classical in political philosophy.301 The second wave, started by Rousseau, Kant and Hegel, sought to go back to earlier works, and this involved a rehabilitation of classical political philosophy.302 However, according to Strauss, this second wave turned out to be more involved in history by its advance of the theme of the ‘spirit of [the] time’.303

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Strauss uses classical political philosophy against historicism in his quest to demonstrate that historical conditions do not determine political philosophy, by discussing the commonly held belief that classical political philosophers preferred the city as the ideal political regime simply because it was the only one available to them.304 Strauss argues that, in addition to the city, the classicists knew of other political regimes such as the tribe and Eastern despotism.305 However, they preferred the city because it fitted their image of what the ideal political regime represented: freedom and civilization.306 This fact, Strauss contends, shows that historical conditions did not determine the political philosophy of the classicists; they applied universal standards – in this case freedom and civilization – and their evaluation was universal. Strauss adds that even some philosophers of the eighteenth century applied the same standards for the ideal political regime. They produced the same result, although the modern state had emerged by this time.307 In the nineteenth century, the modern state adopted standards of freedom and civilization, and this made the standards of classical political philosophy absolute.308 This modification, and the reinterpretation of the philosophy of the classicists by nineteenth-century philosophers, shows the superiority of the original. As always for Strauss, the original form is superior to modified and reinterpreted forms.309 Another central pillar of Strauss’ methodology is esotericism. He argues that at times when there is great persecution of those who advocate minority positions, philosophers who hold views regarded as heterodox by the rulers or members of their societies are compelled to ‘develop a peculiar technique of writing, the technique which we have in mind when speaking of writing between the lines’.310 This technique, according to Strauss, involves the author addressing his work to those thoughtful, clever and trustworthy readers who are able to discover the hidden meaning in a text.311 Strauss draws a distinction between pre-modern and modern philosophers in the use of the technique of esotericism. The pre-modern philosophers, he explains, believed that the gap between the learned and the masses was irreconcilable.312 For them, it is a matter of human nature that a small number of people are capable of learning while the majority of any society is not.313 Strauss contends that there are two consequences of conceiving of the gap between the two classes of people in this ontological sense. The first is that the pre-modern philosophers did not seek to

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enlighten the rest of the society by their writings. The second is that these philosophers believed that the era of persecution was a perpetual, not a temporal, one.314 On the other hand, modern philosophers did not see the gap between the learned and the public as an irreconcilable one. They understood the era of persecution in which they suffered to be a contingent case.315 Therefore, they sought to end it by bridging the gap between them and the public through enlightenment.316 Strauss argues that medieval Islamic philosophers, as they lived in an era of persecution, frequently adopted the principle of secretiveness in their writings. For example, they often hid their real views behind Plato’s or Aristotle’s doctrines. Strauss shows that the position of medieval Islamic philosophers on, for example, Plato’s Laws can be classified into the categories of rejecting it in favour of revelation; employing it in order to criticize some Islamic doctrines, or even Islam as a whole; or using it to prove that Islam is the only set of doctrines that fits within the rational standards of the Laws and so using it as a rational justification of Islam.317 Strauss’ best example of a philosopher who follows this technique of writing is the tenth-century Farabi, who justifies his need to hide the real meaning of what he is writing by claiming that philosophy and philosophers are in serious danger from a society that does not recognize philosophy as a legitimate activity.318 Strauss also says that Farabi believes that Plato needed to adopt the principle of secretiveness in order to protect himself.319 Farabi needed to hide his views because he believed that knowledge should only be available to those who are willing to devote themselves to study and meditation.320 Strauss also names both Averroes and Kant, among others, as examples of philosophers who suffered from persecution, and so had to write in a way that allowed a secret message to be conveyed behind the outward message of their books in order to hide their views.321 The three main characteristics of Strauss’ methodology show the flawed nature of his approach and its inadequacy for the purposes of this study, which aims to conduct a comparative study free of ideological agendas and any presuppositions about the thoughts of Averroes and Kant. Firstly, the normative character that he gives to political philosophy as a set of questions about what is good and just for the society involves imposing a priori conceptions of what ‘good’ and ‘just’ are. This should be avoided because studying the thought of the past should not be about

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judging it according to preconceived standards of ‘good’ or ‘just’, but about understanding the past as it is. The second characteristic of Strauss’ methodology is his principle of esotericism. Even if Strauss’ idea of writing between the lines is applicable to Farabi and some other Muslim medieval philosophers, it is not applicable to Averroes. This is because he addressed all his commentaries and books, except The Exposition of the Methods of Proofs, to a small group of the learned and princes whom he knew and trusted. Furthermore, Averroes was asked during a meeting with the head of the Almohad state, Abu Ya‘qub Yusuf, who was personally interested in philosophy, to explain Aristotle’s doctrines and to make his philosophy more accessible. This support by the Almohad regime, combined with the fact that he did not address his work to the public, clearly eliminates any claim that Averroes needed to hide his thought between the lines. One example of a Straussian study of Averroes’ thought is Charles Butterworth’s article on Averroes’ Commentary on Plato’s Republic.322 Butterworth argues that Averroes shows an ‘explicit endorsement’323 of some of Plato’s anti-Islamic ideas such as the community of women and children and the regulations about sexual intercourse. This claim highlights the inadequacy of using this approach to understand Averroes’ thought. In particular, it ignores some important factors that are not found within the text itself. These factors made Averroes include these Platonic anti-Islamic ideas in his commentary, as will be shown in Chapters 3, 5 and 6. Strauss’ theory is not applicable to Kant either. Kant produced most of his works at a time when the Enlightenment was an official ideology of Prussia, and when there were many enlightened philosophers and academics in Prussian and German universities. Furthermore, the works that he intended to be read by the public, such as A Critique of Practical Reason, are largely consistent with his other works, except that they are free of complicated metaphysical doctrines. This would not have been the case if Kant had had a legitimate fear of public persecution and thus had had to write his philosophy in the form of a subtext when writing for the general public. It is true that Kant is not clear, and sometimes not even consistent, in some of his ideas. His attitude toward revolution, for instance, is inconsistent, but this is the exception not the rule. The third characteristic of Strauss’ methodology is his convinction that Greek philosophy is superior to medieval and modern philosophy.

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This is the result of a rejection of the idea of historical progress and a belief in universal truth. Strauss’ belief involves understanding medieval and modern philosophy through Greek philosophy, which leads to a denial of the originality of the medieval and modern philosophical traditions alike. If Strauss believes that the idea of historical progress involves a prejudice towards the present and against the past, his idea of the superiority of Greek philosophy shows a prejudice towards the past and against the present, and, for that matter, the future. With this in mind, this book does not aim to reveal only what Averroes and Kant thought was a universal truth, but also why they believed in it and how they argued in its favour. This involves going beyond the text and studying more closely its linguistic and historical conditions.

The ‘history of political thought’ approach In contrast to the Straussian approach, the textual and historical methodology advanced by Quentin Skinner and J. G. A. Pocock is both more intellectually rigorous and convincing. Skinner evaluates the two predominate methodologies of interpreting classic texts, textual methodology and contextual methodology, and concludes that both suffer from philosophical mistakes that make them inadequate.324 Textual methodology, Skinner explains, is based on the idea that a text has the selfsufficient unity that makes the observer understand the utterance.325 This is because (and here this approach overlaps with some elements of Strauss’ approach) classic texts contain timeless elements formed in a universal idea.326 What the interpreter needs to do, according to this view, is to reveal these timeless elements, and to acknowledge their current application and validity.327 The belief that classic texts contain timeless elements that can be employed for today’s issues involves reading the text away from its historical and intellectual conditions.328 Thus, tracing any idea to its historical and intellectual roots will represent a denial of, or at least a threat to, its timelessness.329 Simply put, the Straussian approach rests upon a fundamental assumption: that a word – such as ‘liberty’ – expresses a timeless and ahistorical idea and retains its direct connection to this idea. Such an assumption leads to the dangerous and invalid conclusion that ‘When we

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read Plato, Machiavelli, Mill or Berlin, we unquestionably assume [...] that they all talk about the same thing.’330 Skinner argues that this kind of thinking creates four myths prevalent within textual analysis. The first myth is created by the a priori expectation that a particular agent was aiming to do something that he was not, for example, by gathering the marginalized elements of a particular author’s work and restructuring them as if they were the main elements of his thought.331 This is a characteristic of the studies on Averroes within Arab scholarship. It is manifested when, for example, scholars overestimate the value of the explicitly political remarks made by Averroes in order to make the interpretation of the text agree with their a priori expectations.332 Therefore, instead of recovering the intentions of the author from his main ideas, the text is interpreted through guesses and vague hints. Another form of myth, according to Skinner, arises in treating ideas as if their intellectual pillars are always complete, and judging the thought of the author according to his conformity with this standard.333 Skinner says that the second form of this myth is created by imposing a normative judgement on classic texts, the approach that Strauss calls for.334 This is, again, characteristic of most of the studies on Averroes within Arab scholarship; scholars ascribe normative qualities such as rationality to his thought or describe him as a free thinker. The second myth presented by Skinner is to presuppose the inner coherence of thought of a particular thinker and to present it as a complete system of ideas.335 The role of the interpreter, then, is merely to reveal this inner coherence.336 Skinner argues that such a myth does not allow for any conception that the thought of the writer changed and their ideas developed over time.337 The third myth concerns prolepsis. This involves the failure to distinguish between the significance that an interpreter might find in a text and the original intention of the author in writing the text.338 This myth, according to Skinner, involves finding the meaning of texts in the future, not at the time they were produced.339 The fourth myth is that of parochialism, which appears mainly while interpreting the utterances of other cultures.340 It is the result of creating a familiarity between ideas and concepts that have been produced in one culture and the ideas and concepts that belong to another.341 This myth is a clear characteristic of most of the studies on Averroes within Arab scholarship. Many scholars

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argue that he was advocating anachronistic ideologies such as secularism, Marxism, or postmodernism. Explaining Skinner’s formulation of these four myths, then, does more than identify the deficiencies and unfortunate consequences of taking the Straussian approach; it also offers the beginnings of a valid critique of the ways in which Averroes has been understood in Arab scholarship. After formulating his criticism of Straussian methodology and its unintended consequences, Skinner moves on to deal with the other predominant methodology within political philosophy and the study of the history of political thought: contextual methodology. As Skinner explains it, this is based on the idea that a classic text is merely an epiphenomenon of historical events, and that studying those historical events would therefore reveal the meaning of that text.342 Although Skinner thinks that this methodology can provide a better interpretation than other approaches, he believes it will lead to a situation where the study of classic texts is meaningless. This is because, as a consequence of establishing this relationship between historical events (as social realities) as cause and texts (as actions) as effect, the focus is inexorably shifted towards the former.343 Skinner does not deny that some actions are caused by social realities, but this never compensates for the need to study texts themselves as the point of action.344 Skinner disagrees with the maxim of contextual methodology that the intention of the author is a causality in itself. This idea overlaps with the idealist view held by Strauss regarding the priority of thought over action. Skinner presents two refutations. In the first, he argues that the relationship between intention and action is contingent, as an agent may intend to act and yet never actually do so.345 Also, the intentions of an agent might be used to characterize his action after the act, not before it.346 Secondly, Skinner argues that contextual methodology does not draw a distinction between meaning and understanding.347 For Skinner, as for Austin, understanding does not merely involve a grasp of the meaning, but also a grasp of its ‘intended illocutionary force’.348 Skinner insists that to study an idea that was produced in the past we should not focus on the essential meaning of the words in a text, but on their use.349 He follows Collingwood by insisting that we cannot know the role that these words play in the construction of the author’s arguments unless we engage with the questions that the author is trying to answer.350 This shows that interpretation must

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involve not merely the meaning of a text, but also the illocutionary force that reveals what the author is trying to accomplish as well as the textual methods used to accomplish it.351 Skinner holds that studying the historical events surrounding texts never reveals this illocutionary force, and so never reveals the authors’ pursuits of their aims.352 He asserts that to understand a text we need to recover the intentions of the author, firstly by engaging with the whole line of communications that the utterance was produced to perform and secondly by determining the relationship between the text and its wider linguistic context.353 Skinner gives authors special authority over their own intentions in writing a text.354 Contrary to Strauss’ argument, Skinner does not deny that interpreters might be able to give better accounts than the agents themselves of what they were doing in a given piece of writing.355 He maintains that to know the intentions of the author is to know his relationship with what he wrote, as well as to know which kind of speech act is being performed through the text – for example, promising, warning or joking.356 Skinner here draws a distinction between intention and motive. For him, the motive refers merely to the conditions in which the text was produced; it does not reveal anything about its meaning.357 On the other hand, intention refers to the illocutionary force of the text, that is, the nature of the communicative act that was being performed in writing it.358 Skinner also makes a distinction between two types of intention in terms of attempting to understand the meaning of texts. The first is the intention of the author by writing the text (or the perlocutionary force), which is implied in the text and therefore does not need a separate examination.359 The second is the intention of the author in writing the text (or the illocutionary force). This is not implied in the text, and therefore needs separate examination.360 In turn, Pocock draws a distinction between the ‘history of political thought’ and the ‘history of political discourse’.361 Aiming to go beyond Skinner’s methodology, Pocock further distinguishes between the ‘history of discourse’ and the ‘history of consciousness’.362 The latter refers to texts that were written not for the purpose of publication and communication, but for the purpose of articulating the author’s consciousness.363 The interpretive task is therefore not to examine the speech act of the author, but to examine the capability of language itself to articulate the author’s consciousness within the text in a given historical period.364

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The main question Pocock asks is how, apart from recovering his or her language(s), can we recover the author’s intention?365 For him, language is the mediator between the author and his or her own world. It therefore plays a crucial role in constructing authors’ intentions.366 In other words, it provides the instrument that enables them to perform their speech acts. Pocock goes on to highlight the role that language plays in the production of classic texts side by side with the author’s intentions. Practically, Pocock asserts that language imposes restrictions on the author by limiting the field of possible speech acts available, on the innovation of employing language in texts, and on communicating through it.367 This forces a focus on the diverse modes of discourse employed by different authors in a given historical period, in an attempt to know how they all used the language in constructing diverse, and even contradictory, utterances.368 This involves a study of the different idioms of the political language that appear in the texts of the period in order to understand their characteristics, sources and limitations, and how each enabled the author to say what he said.369 The aim, for the historian, is to be able to conclude that ‘such and such a language was being employed and was capable of being employed in such and such ways’.370 This cannot be achieved without a deep and extensive engagement with the literature of the period in question. Pocock argues that studying language will reveal both the conceptual and the social world in which the text was produced.371 Therefore, he redefines the history of political thought as the history of political language.372 In this way, he focuses on language not merely as a mediator between many authors in a given historical period, but also as a cultural resource of their speech acts. This indicates that he thinks that language is the key to the speech act, not vice versa. In addition to this, Pocock’s methodology, unlike Skinner’s, does not merely concentrate on the speech act of one author. For him, language is both the instrument and object of consciousness.373 As it is clearly necessary to go beyond a text by paying close attention to its linguistic and historical conditions, the Straussian approach is not suitable for dealing with the issues of the history of political thought, and particularly not for the ideas of Averroes’ and Kant’s. In contrast, the approaches of Pocock and Skinner are useful for this study. Pocock’s approach is important because its focus on language as a cultural resource is

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a useful basis for a comparison between Averroes and Kant in constructing their speech acts, side by side with focusing on their intentions in writing what they wrote. Equally, when dealing with the question of enlightenment, it is insufficient to investigate texts that reveal the consciousness of the philosopher. Those texts that include an idea that he aims to communicate with others should also be examined. Investigating, for example, the texts that show Averroes’ consciousness might be enough to tell us that he was, or was not, enlightened. However, they could never tell us that he was, or was not, intentionally and consciously an advocate of enlightenment, which is the point at issue in this study. Therefore, investigating Averroes’ and Kant’s communicative thought will reveal the purpose of their intellectual activity and the method they adopted in order to persuade their audiences: the illocutionary force. When aiming to make this kind of discernment, the incisiveness of Skinner’s approach is unparalleled.374

Conclusion As the debate about modernity in the Arab-Islamic world took shape during the second half of the nineteenth century, it divided Arab thinkers into two main camps: Westernized and authentic. Each camp has attempted to provide a valid plan for overcoming the Arab-Islamic failure to match the dominance of the Western world by achieving an enlightenment of its own, and based it in their respective views of the cultural heritage of the Arab-Islamic world and of enlightenment itself. Within this debate, Averroes has been used by the conflicting intellectual discourses in order to provide answers to the question of Arab enlightenment. In the Westernized discourse, and because of his account of the relationship between reason and revelation, Averroes is seen as an early Arab purveyor of a cluster of Western or universal values such as secularism. The authentic discourse, on the other hand, sees Averroes in two ways. The first perspective is that of Islamic authentic thinkers, who rehabilitate Averroes as a good Muslim and highlight the dogmatic elements in his thought. Their aim is to show that Islam can assimilate new developments in modern life without the need to adopt non-Islamic values. The second perspective is that of modern authentic thinkers, who see in Averroes the main enlightened elements of the Arab-Islamic heritage. Such a view

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can be employed creatively today as an answer to the question of Arab enlightenment. This is because, for them, Averroes’ thought represents a necessary rupture with the non-enlightened elements of the Arab-Islamic heritage and a rejection of Western values alike. Averroes’ relationship to enlightenment is therefore highly disputed, and this makes examining it an appealing task. Contemporary Arab thinkers have tried to deal with the question of Averroes’ relationship to enlightenment as an ideological one. This study transforms that question into a historical one. An evaluation of methodological approaches in the history of political thought demonstrated that, due to its normative character, and its principle of esotericism – which cannot be applied either to Averroes or to Kant – the approach of political philosophy advanced by Strauss is inadequate here. Pocock’s approach does not merely concentrate on the speech act of one author, but on language as both the instrument and object of consciousness. For him, language is not just a mediator between many authors in a given historical period; it is also a cultural resource and a key to their speech acts. Taking a parallel tack, Skinner’s approach shows that to understand a text we need to recover the intentions of the author. This can be achieved by first engaging with the whole line of communications that the utterance was produced to perform. Secondly, determining the relationship between the text and its wider linguistic context overcomes the many inadequacies of previous approaches. It is historical-analytical rather than normative, and communicative rather than concentrating merely on consciousness. These are the methods that will be used in this study to argue that Averroes was not intentionally an advocate of enlightenment, and a genuine historical approach, in this case, a comparison with Kant, will show the same.

2

REVELATION AND REASON, AND POLITICS Averroes’ account

‘Polymath’ is a word that might have been invented to describe Abu’l Walid Muhammad bin Rushd, or – as he is also known – Averroes. He was a Renaissance man centuries before the Renaissance: in addition to the public roles he fulfilled – those of courtier, judge and physician – his scholarship encompassed jurisprudence, logic, psychology, medicine, astronomy and physics. Indeed, it is somewhat ironic that his greatest and most enduring fame is as a philosopher, because it is his contributions to jurisprudence and the study of the law that are wholly original, 1 while many of his philosophical works – including the best known – are commentaries on other thinkers’ works, and they include translating, paraphrasing and interpreting. His interactions with the thought and writings of Aristotle have the greatest relevance to understanding Averroes’ contested position on the development of Islamic reform and modernity. As he lived at a time when most of Aristotle’s works had been translated into Arabic (the exception was Aristotle’s Politics, which led Averroes to study Plato’s Republic instead), Averroes had the opportunity to study most of his thought comprehensively and carefully. As a result, he produced commentaries on Aristotle’s main works: Nicomachean Ethics, Posterior Analytics, De Anima, De Caelo, Physics and Metaphysics. Some of Averroes’ philosophical works were original. He wrote some legal theoretical works such as the Bidayat al-mujtahid (or The Discretionary Scholar), which drew on his expertise as a judge. In addition to this, and more importantly, he wrote two defences of philosophy and philosophers from a legal point of view: Fasl al-maqal fima bayn-l-hikmat wa-l-shari‘ah min-l-ittisal (or Decisive Treatise on the Relation of Philosophy and Religion) and al-Kashf ‘an manahij al-adilla (or Exposition of the

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Methods of Proof). Averroes’ philosophical competence is demonstrated in Tahafut al-tahafut (or The Incoherence of the Incoherence), which is a philosophical defence of philosophy and philosophers against Ghazali’s attack in his Tahafut al-falsifah (or Incoherence of the Philosophers).2 At the heart of the issue of Arab enlightenment, as well as the controversial position of Averroes within the debate, is the question of the relationship between revelation and reason. In order to determine whether or not Averroes can be considered an enlightenment figure, his account of the relationship between revelation and reason must be considered and its implications for the realm of the political traced. Before Averroes’ own answer to the question of whether faith can be examined or arrived at rationally is analysed, the social, historical and intellectual factors that made the question so crucially important must be studied. From such a historically grounded approach to these matters, the conclusion – that Averroes was not an early enlightenment figure – develops organically, if we understand an enlightenment figure to be one who aims to mobilize the public through a political ideal towards sociopolitical reforms, based upon his philosophical insights. Studying Averroes’ social and intellectual context can provide a clear idea of how his philosophical interests were formed. As Chapter 1 has shown, many contemporary Arab scholars regard Averroes as an early advocate of enlightenment. They claim that their understanding is based on an accurate historical understanding of Averroes’ thought, but it has become clear that such scholars have often imposed their own ideological ideas on his work. In addition to its academic importance, the study of Averroes’ social and intellectual context from a purely historical perspective is a crucial step towards undermining these contradictory ideological claims. Averroes’ comprehensive engagement with Aristotelian thought and rejection of Neoplatonism3 informed his philosophical position as a defender of pure Aristotelianism. At the same time, because he lived in an anti-philosophical society and was responding intellectually to antiphilosophical thinkers, he developed another intention with regard to philosophy: he wanted to advocate the reconciliation of philosophy with Islam. The Rushdian language, whether it is philosophical or legal, requires significant attention, as it raises the questions about Averroes’ philosophical maturity, audiences and modes of argument.

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Averroes’ historical and social context Philosophy cannot be considered in isolation from the social context in which its origins are embedded, any more than modern thinkers can afford to ignore their own preoccupations and biases in reading it from the perspective of the present time. The history of the Arabs in Andalusia shows that philosophy was not immune from the political interference of a succession of ruling elites, as can be demonstrated by a brief examination of the history of the Umayyad, Almoravid and Almohad dynasties. These dynasties ruled Andalusia – and North Africa in the case of the Almoravids and Almohads – successively as a united political body from ad 661 to 1212, a period that saw the flourishing and subsequent decline of ArabIslamic scholarship in the west. The study of philosophy and other sciences enjoyed a favourable climate during the Umayyad era. This was particularly so during the reign of Muhammad Ibn ‘Abd al-Rahman (852–86) when the study of philosophy was introduced to the region. This discipline reached its peak during the reign of Hisham II (961–76), whose personal interest in philosophy noticeably led to a parallel public interest. However, this was not enough to establish a permanent attitude of respect for philosophy as the next ruler, Hisham III (976–1009) banned its study. This prohibition represented part of his public policy of enhancing his religious credibility, and so his political legitimacy. Philosophy was considered by many religious scholars, and therefore by the public, to be a form of heresy, an inherent challenge to and contradiction of Islam. Banning it was seen as a sign of commitment to religious doctrines, a commitment viewed as crucial for the political legitimacy of Muslim rulers. By banning philosophy, therefore, Hisham III provided a good example of how vulnerable the position of philosophy was to political interference.4 The Almoravid dynasty (1085–1147) was committed exclusively to the Maliki5 theological school, which prohibited the study of both philosophy and kalam (theology).6 The medieval historian ‘Abd al-Wahid Almarrakushi (d. 1249) wrote that the second ruler and son of the founder of the Almoravid state, Ali bin Yusuf bin Tashfin (1107–43), would refrain from taking any decision unless it had been approved by four jurists.7 This represented the highest position that jurists had ever held since the Arab conquest of Iberia.8 It led some scholars to describe the rule of the

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Almoravid dynasty as the ‘regime of jurists’.9 Theology, like philosophy, was subject to restrictions and political interference during this period. This is exemplified by the burning of the books of the renowned theologian, Ghazali, who was famous for his criticism of philosophy. Although the Almoravid dynasty created official and public hostility to both philosophy and theology, the most distinguished Andalusian philosophers lived in this era. Avempace – or, Ibn Bajja – (d. 1138) lived and died during the Almoravid reign, and Ibn Tufayl (d. 1185) also lived most of his life under their rule. Averroes himself was no exception; he received his early education during their reign.10 Some scholars who sympathize with the Almoravids provide an explanation for this paradox. They argue that although the Almoravids showed loyalty to a strict form of the Maliki theological school, they allowed other juridical, theological and philosophical schools of Islam to take part in society in a free intellectual environment.11 However, this explanation is problematic because, as some other scholars have shown, it ignores the fact that the Almoravids dealt with kalam and philosophy in two different ways. These scholars argue that theology was a more serious competitor to the ruling Maliki theological school than philosophy. This is because the mutakallimun (theologians) directed an approachable and simple message to the public, unlike the philosophers with their ‘strong tradition of discretion and their strict and deliberate limitation of their audience’.12 While theological discussions were held in public, where everybody could attend, philosophical discussions were held at secret venues, to which a very limited number of people were invited. The competition for audiences, then, was the reason why the Almoravids exerted more pressure on theology than philosophy. This allowed philosophy to flourish. The Almohads13 (1154–1269) were the exact reverse of their predecessors. This is because their political-religious legitimacy was based on the theological discourse of Ibn Tumart (d. 1128), who was one of Ghazali’s students.14 As in the Umayyad dynasty, and in contrast to the attitude of their subjects, philosophy enjoyed a favourable climate among some of the enlightened princes in this era. The second Almohad ruler, Abu Ya‘qub Yusuf (1163–84), is the clearest example. He was personally engaged in philosophical debate, and was accompanied most of the time by the philosopher Ibn Tufayl.15 Knowing the Caliph’s interests well, when Ibn Tufayl

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recognized Averroes’ great philosphical capabilities, he introduced him to Abu Ya‘qub. Averroes describes the meeting: The first thing that the Prince of the Believers said to me, after asking me my name, my father’s name and my genealogy was: ‘What is their opinion about the heavens?’ – referring to the philosophers – ‘Are they eternal or created?’ Confusion and fear took hold of me, and I began making excuses and denying that I had ever concerned myself with philosophic learning; for I did not know what Ibn Tufayl had told him on the subject. But the Prince of the Believers understood my fear and confusion, and turning to Ibn Tufayl began talking about the question of which he had asked me, mentioning what Aristotle, Plato and all the philosophers had said, and bringing in besides the objections of the Muslim thinkers against them; and I perceived in him such a copious memory as I did not think could be found [even] in any one of those who concerned themselves full time with this subject. Thus he continued to set me at ease until I spoke, and he learned what was my competence in that subject.16

Averroes’ words about his meeting with Abu Ya‘qub clearly show the position of philosophy and philosophers during that era: philosophy was favoured within the private circles of the elite, but they always hid it from their subjects. Also, by denying his interest in philosophical issues at the beginning of the meeting, Averroes showed how insecure he was as a philosopher. The significance of this story will become clearer in Chapter 4. Averroes’ fears were proved to be well founded during the reign of Abu Ya‘qub’s successor, Abu Yusuf Ya‘qub (1184–99). The new ruler had to respond to the political and military challenges of the Christian powers in Iberia. The challenges were met by strengthening the politicalreligious legitimacy of his regime by showing more commitment to the public understanding of Islam.17 As well as pursuing a policy of persecution of the Jewish minority in Andalusia, the study of philosophy was banned and the books of philosophers were burned.18 This new policy affected Averroes personally. Apart from the burning of his books, it deprived him

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of the royal patronage that he had enjoyed during the reign of Abu Ya‘qub. Furthermore, he was sent into exile for a while to a small Jewish village.19 It is evident that philosophy in Andalusia was not immune from political interference. Andalusian society had always been dominated by a strict form of the Maliki theological school, which was deeply hostile towards any sort of rational interpretation of religious texts. Therefore, jurists, and consequently those in the public sphere, accused those who engaged in philosophy – previously known as ‘ancient sciences’ – of heresy.20 A state of perpetual war existed against Christian powers and even among Arabs themselves. So, obtaining public support was a crucial issue for the rulers. This led the political elites to increase their political legitimacy, which was based on their promotion of ‘the true Islam’, as understood in that particular society, by strengthening their ties with the culture of the general public and reaffirming their commitment to their concept of Islam. In contrast to his juridical and medical early education, little is known about Averroes’ early philosophical education.21 However, his philosophical works, as well as his contributions to other domains, especially jurisprudence, provide a clear idea about the intellectual sources that influenced him. These came from two groups of thinkers in two different ways. The first group included Ibn Tumart, the theologian who significantly contributed to the political-religious legitimacy of the Almohades. It also involved the local Andalusian philosophers Avempace and Ibn Tufayl and, most importantly, Aristotle. The second group of thinkers included the two famous Muslim Eastern philosophers, Farabi (d. 950) and Avicenna (d. 1037), and the great theologian Ghazali. The Andalusian-Aristotelian group played a direct and crucial role in the formation of Averroes’ philosophical outlook. Although he was an antiphilosophical theologian, Ibn Tumart did influence Averroes’ thought. Firstly, Ibn Tumart reduced the influence of the dominant Maliki theological school by introducing a type of rational theology into religious circles in Andalusia. This theology was influenced by the Mu‘tazili rational theological tradition.22 Secondly, he insisted on a metaphorical interpretation of religious texts, which involved giving a significant role to rational understanding.23 As the Almohads imposed the study of Ibn Tumart’s theological doctrines, his effect extended to the social sphere in Andalusia. This would inevitably have influenced Averroes’ religious education.24

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Avempace and Ibn Tufayl, the most significant Andalusian philosophers, also influenced Averroes. Firstly, they contributed to the transfer of Aristotle’s thought, and that of Farabi, Avicenna and Ghazali of the Eastern Islamic world, to Andalusia.25 Secondly, they affected his thought through their original works: Avempace’s Conduct of the Solitary and Ibn Tufayl’s story entitled Hayy Ibn Yaqzan. Both works influenced Averroes greatly in the political and ethical domains.26 Aristotle played a role in forming Averroes’ thought by maturing his philosophical abilities and influencing his main philosophical interests. Averroes lived at a time when most of Aristotle’s works had been translated into Arabic, and Aristotle was the philosopher whom Averroes held in the highest regard.27 Averroes became heavily involved in Aristotle’s works through producing commentaries on them. Gradually, this enabled him to produce his own original philosophical works. Urvoy, for example, highlights the role that Aristotle’s thought played in maturing Averroes’ thought. He argues: One can say that after a logical and scientific preparation, our thinker elaborated a purely ‘Rushdian’ thought for a brief period in order to draw out the ultimate consequences of trying to give the most complete picture possible of the universe of reason, through a deep analysis of what seemed to him to be the most excellent philosophy – Aristotelianism.28

Aristotle was also extremely important in forming Averroes’ philosophical questions and agenda. As a result of the strong Aristotelian influence, through his original philosophical works Averroes aimed to reconcile philosophy and Islam and, in particular, to reconcile Aristotelian philosophy with Islam. The second group of thinkers, including Farabi, Avicenna and Ghazali, influenced Averroes’ thought indirectly. This was achieved by stimulating his thought to respond to their intellectual challenges. Averroes, as a defender of pure Aristotelianism, had always been critical of attempts by Farabi and Avicenna to introduce Neoplatonism into Islamic philosophy. Their aim was to reconcile Plato and Aristotle. Averroes’ commentary was intended to defend Aristotelianism against an inaccurate understanding of both its doctrines and Neoplatonism. In addition to this, he criticized

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the Neoplatonic theory of emanation, which was advocated in Islamic philosophy by both Farabi and Avicenna. Simply put, this theory explains the creation of the world by a series of emanations originating from the godhead, which was different from the Islamic or Judeo-Christian concept of an eternal god creating all from nothing because it denies that God directly created the world, and suggests instead that there is a chain of emergence through emanations.29 As the theory of emanation did not fit with the Islamic conception of creation, it was also criticized by Ghazali, who used this point to condemn philosophy and philosophers in general. In his book entitled Tahafut al-falasifah (The Incoherence of the Philosophers), Ghazali presents a strong critique of philosophy and philosophers. He denies the legal validity of philosophy and the study of ancient books. Ghazali’s aim was to ‘alert those who think well of the philosophers and believe that their ways are free from contradiction by showing the [various] aspects of their incoherence’.30 Ghazali’s attack is mainly concentrated on metaphysics, which relates ‘to one of the principles of religion, such as upholding the doctrine of the world’s origin and of the [positive] attributes of the creator’.31 In addition, he attacks some aspects of their natural science, such as their theory of causation and ‘demonstrating the resurrection of bodies, all of which [the philosophers] have denied’.32 Ghazali presents his attack in logical-philosophical language, although it is for the sake of theology. He states: For this reason, I do not enter into [argument] objecting to them, except as one who demands and denies, not as one who claims [and] affirms. I will render murky what they believe in [by showing] conclusively that they must hold to various consequences [of their theories]. Thus, I will force on them at one time necessary adherence to Mu’tazilite doctrine, at another to that of the Karramiyya, at yet another to that of the Waqifiyya. I, however, will not rise to the defence of any one doctrine, but will make all the sects as one group against them. For the rest of the sects may differ from us in matters of detail, whereas these [philosophers] challenge the [very] principles of religion. Let us then [all] strive against them. For in the face of hardship rancours depart.33

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Here, Ghazali does not seem to care about constructing a coherent position against the philosophers. He is clear that his attack will be a mish-mash of the contradictory arguments of the theological sects, depending on which one of them fits best with this or that point. He is not, then, a truth-seeker at all. Rather, he insists on winning the debate against the philosophers, and showing the public that their arguments are refutable. Ghazali concludes his book by pronouncing the philosophers infidels, which shows that he was directing a religious argument against them.34 He deemed them infidels because they used their philosophical abilities to advance some anti-Islamic doctrines, Neoplatonism in particular.35 Furthermore, he accuses them of breaking the Muslim consensus on the main theoretical-metaphysical issues of the eternity of the world (most philosophers believe that the world is eternal, the traditional Islamic argument holds that it is created); the nature of knowledge of God (most philosophers believe that God’s knowledge is universal, whereas traditional Islamic argument maintains that God’s knowledge is universal and particular); and the resurrection of bodies (most Muslim philosophers believe that resurrection on the Day of Judgement is for the soul only; traditional Islamic argument asserts that it is for the soul and body alike). Ghazali confines his attack on philosophers to Aristotle (whom Ghazali describes as the leader)36 and his translators on the Islamic side, Farabi and Avicenna.37 Ghazali’s strategy throughout the book has two dimensions. Initially, he provides an internal critique of the thought of these philosophers by showing the logical and philosophical contradictions within their arguments. Then, he highlights the different philosophical conclusions they have reached. By doing so, Ghazali aims to show that philosophy is unable to provide any certain outlook on metaphysical issues, which makes it an unreliable method to use in approaching such matters. Religion, for him, is the only reliable method of obtaining the truth about metaphysics. It cannot be replaced by philosophy. Averroes was obliged to respond to Ghazali’s fundamental philosophical and theological critique of philosophy and philosophers, and to show that philosophy does not contradict religion. For Averroes, Ghazali’s challenge had to be taken seriously. Firstly, in addition to being one of the greatest theologians in the history of Islam, Ghazali was very knowledgeable about philosophy. This enabled him to mount theological

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and philosophical attacks on both philosophy and the philosophers. Secondly, because Ghazali’s works were held in the highest regard by the ruling Almohad dynasty, they were as influential in the public sphere as they were in the official one. Therefore, it is clear that Averroes’ philosophical-legal works on the relationship between philosophy and religion were a response to Ghazali’s intellectual challenge.

Revelation and reason: Averroes’ account The issue of the relationship between philosophy and Islam has been a key theme in Islamic philosophy ever since the first Muslim philosopher, Kindi (d. 873).38 The main sources for Averroes’ account of this question are his books Fasl al-maqal fima bayn-l-hikmat wa-l-shari‘ah min-l-ittisal, al-Kashf ‘an manahij al-adilla and Tahafut al-tahafut. His account of the relationship between revelation and reason is bound up with his theory of discourse.

The study of philosophy and Averroes’ theory of interpretation In the first chapter of Fasl al-maqal, Averroes tries to justify legally the study of philosophy and the study of the ancient books. He employs a legal argument based on Aristotelian syllogistic reasoning. In providing a legal justification of the study of philosophy, he bases his argument on the definition that he provides for the ‘activity of philosophy’. For him, the ‘activity of philosophy’ is ‘nothing more than study of existing beings and reflection on them as indications of the Artisan’.39 Therefore, as increasing our knowledge of God is commanded by the Law, and as knowledge of God cannot be obtained without studying what He has created in the world, and as philosophy is the best tool to use to study the world, Averroes concludes that the study of philosophy is commanded by the Law. Some scholars note that the above argument is based on the medieval conception of philosophy as a demonstrative science, not as speculation.40 At the same time, Averroes’ concept of philosophy does not include ethical-political philosophy or metaphysics. Instead, Averroes insists on the concept of philosophy as the study of beings and the observation of God’s greatness and wisdom. This argument corresponds with the scope of Ghazali’s attack, which is confined to the metaphysical and scientific aspects of philosophy.

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Averroes also takes the second step in his argument, in favour of the study of the ancient books, in the first chapter of Fasl al-maqal. Here, Aristotelian syllogistic reasoning appears again. Averroes argues that as our knowledge of the world relates to our knowledge of God, it must be conducted in the best way. For him, this is done by employing demonstrative reasoning. He insists that this method involves studying the contributions made by ancient masters in their books, regardless of their religion. Averroes ends the first chapter by concluding that the study of philosophy is not only commanded by the Law, but that the two cannot contradict each other as both contribute to enhancing religious truth. It is in the second chapter of Fasl al-maqal that Averroes introduces his argument that the study of philosophy and the Law cannot contradict one another. He admits that an apparent clash between the two may occur. Therefore, he presents the concept of interpretation. For him, ‘[I]f the apparent meaning of Scripture conflicts with demonstrative conclusions, it must be interpreted allegorically.’41 All Muslims agree that the Qur’an contains a majority of clear verses as well as a few ambiguous ones. They also agree that the clear verses must be interpreted literally. However, Muslim scholars disagree on how to distinguish the clear verses from the ambiguous ones, and on the best way of dealing with the latter. Averroes’ contribution to this discussion is one of the sources of his originality. On the question of how to distinguish between clear verses and ambiguous ones, he introduces a demonstrative criterion: if the literal meaning of a verse is incompatible with demonstrative reasoning, it is an ambiguous one. He then answers the second question by saying that the best way to deal with these ambiguous verses is to interpret them allegorically so that they are compatible with demonstrative reasoning. In this way, the concept of interpretation appears in Averroes’ thought as a tool to solve the clash between reason and revelation. He supposes it to be no more than an apparent one, found in the literal meaning of particular verses of the Qur’an. Averroes then turns to discussing the question of whether interpreting scripture will lead to a violation of the consensus of the community42 in religious matters. This serves as his response to Ghazali. He draws a distinction between theoretical and legal matters. For him, consensus can be obtained in legal matters. This makes exercising interpretation on

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these matters legally prohibited, as it may break the consensus. On the other hand, ‘to establish it [interpretation] with certainty with regard to theoretical texts is impossible, because there have always been scholars who would not divulge their interpretation of such texts’,43 he explains. The second point reveals what Averroes means when he draws a distinction between the concept of philosophy, and the concept of the ‘activity of philosophy’. As Jabri argues, for Averroes, the latter leads to the former. The activity of philosophy is used by him as a neutral concept to refer to the process of producing philosophy.44 Therefore, the activity of philosophy may lead to the production of anti-Islamic philosophy or it may lead to the opposite. In this regard, Averroes criticizes Ghazali for not realizing this, and for extending his critique of some anti-Islamic doctrines to condemn all philosophical doctrines, and even the activity of philosophy itself.

Mutual dependency Averroes wrote the Kashf as a response to the ongoing debate between several Islamic sects about certain key religious issues. The mutakallimun (the theologians, in this case the Ash‘arites and the Mu‘tazila), the Sufis and the Literalists were in debate on certain vital issues. These included the existence of God, His unity, His attributes, His knowledge and, finally, His actions. Averroes strongly believed that these sects were mistaken in divulging to the public their belief that reason and revelation contradict each other. Nevertheless, he states that, as such a belief has already been revealed to the public, he aims through writing his book to show that reason and revelation do not contradict each other. This will be done by showing to the public throughout the Kashf what he calls ‘the essence’ of both religion and philosophy. He writes: once this divulgence was done, the right thing now was for that group of the public that believes that religion contradicts philosophy, to know that it does not contradict it. Similarly those among the philosophers who believe that philosophy contradicts religion, [should know that] it does not. Every adherent of the two groups should be told that he does not really know the essence of each one of them; neither the essence of religion nor the essence of

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philosophy. Thus, the opinion [of Al-Ghazali] that religion contradicts philosophy, is either a heresy in religion, not a fundamental principle therefore, or a mistaken opinion in philosophy (by which I mean a mistaken interpretation thereof, as happened in the case of [God’s knowledge of] particulars and similar questions). For this reason, we were forced in this present book to define the fundamental principles of religion. For, if its principles are carefully examined, they would be found to be more compatible with philosophy than its interpretations.45

In this book, then, Averroes has two main purposes. The first is to ‘investigate the intentions of the lawgiver’46 regarding some of the key religious issues. The second is to show the method the lawgiver follows in order to persuade the public to hold such a belief. Averroes’ strategy in fulfilling these purposes is to criticize the arguments presented by the sects and to provide his own argument. Averroes’ critique of the sects’ arguments reveals his own main concerns. In his critique he addresses the different methods they adopt in order to construct their arguments. He argues that some of their arguments do not follow the rational method, which, he insists, Islam recommends for dealing with such issues. In particular, this is the method Averroes uses to criticize the arguments provided by the Sufis and the Literalists. Here, an analytic examination of Averroes’ account of these issues is less important than an emphasis of the method he uses to construct his arguments. The best example of this method can be seen when Averroes presents his argument proving God’s existence. He starts by asserting the teleological meaning of the creation. This teleological meaning refers, in this argument in particular, to two main principles. The first is the idea that the world has been created for the sake of man. This is achieved by providing him with the things necessary for his existence, such as the creation of night and day.47 The second is the idea that there are substances that have been invented for man, such as life, sense perception and intellect.48 Then, after a rational introduction to these two arguments, Averroes moves on to employ some of the verses that have been categorized under either the argument of providence or the argument of invention.49 This shows that the rational method even governs the way of understanding the clear verses.

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Throughout Fasl al-maqal, Averroes seems to draw a distinction between the domain of revelation and the domain of reason. In theory, this separation does not involve determining either one as superior to the other. Each domain seems fully independent of the other, and each is the reference for its domain. Revelation is the reference when there is a set of clear verses governing a particular subject, so they are taken at face value. At the same time, reason is the reference when there is a set of ambiguous verses dealing with a particular subject. Philosophers alone are entitled to interpret those verses and to discover their meaning. Averroes confirms in his Kashf what he argued for in Fasl al-maqal about the relationship between religion and philosophy. He says that ‘the Qur’an in its entirety is but a call to theoretical investigation and consideration and an admonition to resort to this theoretical method’.50 However, a more thorough examination of Averroes’ method in the Kashf shows a gap between this and the theory presented in Fasl al-maqal. This is mainly because it is historically inaccurate – and ideologically misleading – to describe Averroes’ thought as characterizing the domains of revelation and reason as separate, although he does assert that revelation and reason are distinct from each other in their natures. A reading of the Kashf suggests that Averroes never thinks of the two domains as separate. Instead, he thinks of the relationship between reason and revelation as based on mutual dependency. Reason depends on revelation to establish its legitimacy. Averroes argues in both Fasl al-maqal and the Kashf that religion calls for theoretical investigation. Revelation, which has established its legitimacy through the belief that it is revealed by God, depends on reason to find its meaning, and, consequently, on philosophical conclusions and philosophers. This is achieved through categorizing the revealed texts, based on reason. The aim here is to discover which of the verses are clear and which are ambiguous. That Averroes never thinks of the domains of reason and revelation as separate is also suggested by the fact that the Kashf expresses his tendency towards rational thought.51 This endency is shown in his core argument that religion calls for theoretical investigation. Averroes employs this religious authorization to justify the inclusion of reason, along with the revealed texts, in forming religious arguments. This clearly refutes the argument, advanced by some Arab contemporary thinkers, that Averroes’ account

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of the relationship between reason and revelation is an early basis for secularism. Such a mutual dependency between reason and revelation in forming religious arguments is not only shown through the interpretation of ambiguous verses; it is even extended to the examination of the clear verses. Averroes states that the public must take the clear verses at face value. At first glance, this seems to overlap with the literalist method, which is based on a literal interpretation of the scriptures. However, Averroes employs a rational method even in understanding the clear verses. This is because his method takes the intents of Shari‘ah, which are perceived rationally, as the starting point for any interpretation. Therefore, the scope of reason is not confined to the ambiguous verses; it also extends to the understanding of the clear verses. In addition to Averroes’ argument about the existence of God, two more examples provide evidence that his understanding of the relationship between revelation and reason is based on mutual dependency in forming religious arguments: his account of the free will of man, and the way he constructs his book Fasl al-maqal. These two further examples will show that although the character of reason and that of revelation are distinct from each other, revelation and reason exist in the same domain and form almost the same coherent religious argument. Averroes categorizes an account of the free will of man as among the doctrines that must be interpreted. He argues that this is because there is a conflict in the verses that deal with this subject. Some verses say that man is free to act; then he earns a reward for his actions. At the same time, other verses state that human actions are determined, which means that man is not free to act. Again, Averroes encounters two rational conflicting arguments that deal with this subject. The first is that if man is free to act, and he is rewarded for his own actions, then the implication is that he can create his own actions. This means that there is another creator in addition to God and that some events may occur outside His will. Averroes refutes this argument by saying that it is against the consensus of Muslims, as they believe that there is no creator but God and nothing can occur outside His will. The second rational argument is that if man’s actions are determined, man becomes an ‘inanimate object’.52 This necessarily implies that man has no capacity to act, and there will be no point in imposing religious duties on him or in judging him after his death.

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Averroes argues that what he calls the ‘true solution’ to these conflicting revealed and rational arguments is to reconcile them into one position. He starts by drawing a distinction between human action and human will.53 For him, human action is not merely a result of his will. Rather, it is the result of the external and eternal causes that ‘God has made subservient to us’.54 For him, the will is merely a desire that arises in us from imagining something or from believing something. This belief is not part of our choice, but is something that arises by virtue of the things that are external to us. An example of this is that if something desirable presented itself to us from outside, we would desire it necessarily without any choice, and then we would move towards it. Similarly, if something frightful descended on us from outside, we would necessarily hate it and run away from it. If this is the case, then our will is preserved by the things that come from outside and is bound to them.55

Human will, then, is the desire to prefer something or to not prefer something. In other words, it is the instrument for distinguishing between a set of choices. But such an instrument will not work without an external or internal cause being presented to it, which reduces its role to that of merely a reaction to these causes. The presentation of a cause stimulates human will to make a judgement on it. Following the judgement (as outlined in the previous quotation) man decides to act; he chooses whether to move towards the presented thing or to run away from it. Again, as he did when considering human will, Averroes reduces human action to being merely a reaction to a combination of an external or internal cause and the subsequent judgement of human will. As a result of his teleological conception of the world, Averroes says that these causes are originated by God in ‘a definite pattern and a well-planned order, without the slightest deviation from what their Creator has decreed to them’.56 Consequently, as human actions are a result of these causes, they follow the same definite pattern and order assigned to them. Having said this, Averroes extends his argument to the question of whether man has a free will or not. Here, he uses rational and revealed

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elements to form the same religious argument. His answer to the question of the free will of man can be obtained by examining his account of God’s knowledge of human will, human actions, and the external and eternal causes. Averroes asserts that existence is the result of these causes and their consequences. Therefore, he argues that God’s knowledge of the causes is equivalent to His knowing of existence. This is what lies behind Averroes’ description of these causes as ‘the keys of the Unseen’, of which God has exclusive knowledge.57 Here, a distinction should be drawn between Averroes’ account of God’s knowledge of the causes, and his account of God’s knowledge of the results of the causes, which includes His knowledge of human will and human action. In the first case, God has decreed the causes, and His knowledge of them results in determining their existence. Conversely, in the second case, God does not determine the existence of the result of the causes – including human will and human actions – although He has knowledge of them. This is because His knowledge of them is not based on determination. Rather, it is based on an infallible expectation. God determines the causes and He expects the results. This obliges Averroes to conclude that man is free and is rewarded for his deeds. This conclusion shows clearly that Averroes believes in the free will of man as a principle. In the same way, Averroes deals with the scope of man’s free will. Here, he again employs rational and revealed elements to form the same religious argument. The answer to Averroes’ account of the scope of man’s free will can be obtained through examining his teleological concept of existence and his account of the principle that there is no creator but God. Regarding the first issue, Averroes articulates the relationship between God’s will and human will through Ghazali’s example of the relationship between a writer and his pen.58 For him, the writer fulfils his will through his pen. In a similar way, God fulfils His will through the causes that He creates.59 It is clear that Averroes’ account does not present human will and human action as if they possess the initiative to action. For him, they merely react to the definite will pattern of God manifested in external and internal causes. Furthermore, Averroes argues that God is the preserver of humans, and He is the provider of the necessary substances that make them alive.60 He argues that human action can affect the accidents, but not the substance of entities. For example, humans are able to affect the movement of things, and their shapes or heat or coldness, but they cannot provide them with the

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necessary substances of life.61 This shows that although Averroes asserts that man has free will, this freedom is restricted by the teleological conception of existence and by the principle that there is no creator but God.62 To sum up, Averroes’ whole discussion of the free will of man confirms his account of the relationship between reason and revelation. It is based on a mutual dependency in which both work together to form the religious argument. The construction of Fasl al-maqal must also be considered in elucidating Averroes’ account of the relationship between revelation and reason as being in the same domain and forming the same religious argument. At the beginning of his book, Averroes states that ‘[T]he purpose of this treatise is to examine, from the standpoint of the study of the Law, whether the study of philosophy and logic is allowed by the Law, prohibited, or commanded – either by way of recommendation or as obligatory.’63 Although Averroes says that his argument will be based exclusively on the Law, Aristotelian doctrines can be seen everywhere in the book, in particular in the first and the third chapters. The influence of other thinkers is clear in Fasl al-maqal even though overall the originality of Averroes’ thought is clear in the book. The first to exerts an influence is Ibn Tumart, a theologian who, along with his teacher Ghazali, was influenced by Mu‘tazili rational theology. Ibn Tumart’s influence on the ideas in the book is shown in the argument in favour of an esoteric interpretation of the ambiguous verses in the Qur’an and in the pursuit of a rational interpretation of religious texts. Averroes develops this by calling for a restriction on the right of interpretation to philosophers because of their demonstrative abilities. The book also shows the influence of Aristotle. This is seen in the first chapter, when Averroes clearly adapts Aristotle’s syllogistic reasoning in the argument in favour of the study of philosophy and ancient books. It is also present when Averroes adapts the Aristotelian theory of the modes of discourse, and employs it to describe the relationship between scripture and people. In parallel, it can also be said that there are two main domains in which Averroes’ originality is evident in the book. The first is where he argues in favour of giving the exclusive right of interpretation to philosophers. This is a development of Ibn Tumart’s theory of the rational interpretation of the Qur’an. The second is the method that he follows in order to reconcile Ibn Tumart’s doctrines with those of Aristotle. While the doctrines of

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Ibn Tumart are used at the heart of Averroes’ argument, Aristotle, by his syllogistic reasoning and his theory of the modes of discourse, provides the framework that these doctrines take. Therefore, it is not accurate to say that Fasl al-maqal is a purely legal argument on behalf of philosophy. Instead, it is both a part of Averroes’ project of reconciling reason and revelation, and an example of it.64

Modes of discourse Averroes requires his formula for the relationship between reason and revelation to relate to the public, and he achieves this by adapting Aristotle’s theory of discourse, which shows clearly the influence of Aristotle’s thought on him. Averroes’ theory of the modes of discourse will have a political significance, and this will be shown later in this chapter. It is also one of the factors that will reveal Averroes’ relationship to enlightenment. For Averroes, the Qur’an contains three modes of argument: rhetorical, dialectic and demonstrative. Each mode is applicable to a particular class of people. He explains that rhetorical argument is applicable to ‘those who are not people of interpretation at all […] who are the overwhelming mass, for no man of sound intellect is exempted from this kind of assent’.65 The dialectical argument is applicable to dialecticians (theologians) who are categorized as being in this class ‘either by nature alone or by nature and habit’. The third mode, the demonstrative, is applicable to the demonstrative class, the philosophers, who are placed there ‘by nature and training’. Following both his theory of interpretation and his theory of discourse, Averroes argues that the philosophers’ demonstrative interpretation of the ambiguous verses in the Qur’an involves a demonstrative mode of discourse revealed in demonstrative language. As the masses find it difficult to understand such language, Averroes believes strongly that such an interpretation must not be revealed in public. Here, Averroes employs the concept of the esoteric interpretation of religious texts, which shows the influence of Ibn Tumart. He states clearly that he is writing the Kashf to the public because the people in [this] religion have been greatly confused, to the point of splintering into many erring groups and different sects, each group believing that it is following the original

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Averroes wrote the Kashf as a response to the debate between the Ash‘arites, the Mu‘tazila, the Sufis and the Literalists on what was known of God. Averroes believes that these sects are mistaken for two reasons. The first is that the discussion involves providing an interpretation of the revealed texts. On this basis, Averroes criticizes the sects, accusing them of being ignorant of the law of interpretation. For him, their interpretation shows that they are unaware of which of the revealed texts can be interpreted, and which must not be interpreted and should be taken at face value. In this regard, even the scholars who try to reconcile reason and revelation are subject to Averroes’ criticism. For him, they commit an error by divulging to the public the philosophical conclusions that they have reached. Releasing these conclusions to people ‘who do not possess the demonstration thereof is neither lawful nor permissible because [these people] do not belong to the class of the learned, who combine religion and reason’.67 Furthermore, for Averroes, certain Islamic sects do not know the suitable mode of discourse to be used in presenting their arguments. Averroes criticizes some of the arguments as being too complicated to be understood by the public, or as being less qualified to be deemed demonstrative arguments. Consequently, for Averroes, some of these arguments do not fit into a particular mode of discourse, nor are they addressed to a particular class of people, which makes them pointless. In particular, Averroes criticizes the arguments provided by the mutakallimun in this way. The second reason why Averroes believes that these sects are mistaken relates to scholars who believe that reason and revelation contradict each other. Here, in addition to his critique of their entire arguments, Averroes insists on his attitude of not divulging such beliefs to members of the public and restricting them to understanding the verses at face value. As Averroes directs the Kashf to the public, he uses rhetorical argumentation. In addition, and as a conclusion to some of the arguments, Averroes draws a comparison between the rhetorical and demonstrative modes of discourse in approaching arguments. He also looks at the way in

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which the two classes addressed, the public and the learned, deal with these two modes of discourse. For example, after he presents his rhetorical argument proving God’s existence, Averroes says that the difference between this argument and the demonstrative one ‘is in the details’.68 Similarly, but in a clearer way, he concludes his rhetorical argument on God’s unity by stating that the difference between the two classes of people is that ‘the learned know about the origination of the world and the existence of some of its parts for the sake of other parts, whereby they resemble a single body, more than the ordinary public knows about them’.69 This shows that Averroes presents to the public the difference between the rhetorical and demonstrative modes of discourse in approaching religious arguments. It lies, he asserts, mainly in the scope of knowledge provided by each mode. Here, Averroes does not seem to tell the whole story about the differences between those two modes of discourse. This can be seen by comparing what he states in this book with what he says in his commentaries on Aristotle’s demonstration, topics and rhetoric. As the Kashf was addressed to the public, Averroes chooses to bridge the gap between these two modes of discourse by showing the differences between them at a minimum level. This seems to be to try to encourage ordinary readers to have more confidence in his argument. In his middle commentary on Aristotle’s Rhetoric,70 which includes his philosophical argument and is addressed only to the elite, Averroes refers to the difference between the demonstrative argument on one hand, and the dialectical and rhetorical arguments on the other, as to the degree of truth that the premises of each mode of discourse enjoy. For him, the premises of the demonstrative argument are necessarily true,71 as this mode of discourse aims at producing knowledge. However, the premises of the dialectical and rhetorical arguments are not necessarily true, as these two modes are not aimed at producing knowledge, but at persuading the public. This makes it vital that the premises of those two modes of discourse be accepted by the people addressed. Such an acceptance makes these premises resemble the truth, but they are not necessarily true. The reason Averroes does not present the same attitude in his commentaries and in this book is that the audiences addressed by the commentaries are different from those addressed by the Kashf.72 What is noticeable throughout the book is that Averroes avoids refer-

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ring to the dialectical mode of discourse, which in his previous book, Fasl al-maqal, he had assigned to the mutakallimun (theologians). He does this firstly due to the position the subject occupies in his theory of discourse. This is not presented in the Kashf, but it is given in detail in his middle commentaries on Aristotle’s Rhetoric and Topics. Averroes states that both rhetoric and topics are employed in order to communicate with other people, and to persuade them to believe in particular arguments. This indicates that Averroes avoids referring to the dialectic mode of discourse because he deals with it in the same way as he deals with rhetoric. Secondly, Averroes does not refer to the dialectical mode of discourse due to his attitude to the social and intellectual role that the mutakallimun play in dealing with religious matters. He mounts a strong attack against them in the Kashf, describing them as being ‘ill’. He refers to: the learned or the general public, who are really the only two classes of people, because they are healthy, and the proper food is suitable to the healthy bodies only. As for the others, they are the ill and those are the minority. For this reason the Almighty says: ‘As to those in whose hearts is vacillation, they follow what is ambiguous in it, seeking sedition [and intending to interpret it].’ These are the adepts of dialectic (jadal) and of theology (kalam).73

It should be noted that Averroes had already discussed such issues with the learned in Fasl al-maqal, and this allows him to dedicate the Kashf to persuading the public rather than any other class of people. It is clear that Averroes attempted to prove the legality of the study of philosophy from a religious perspective, and to include reason along with revelation in forming his religious arguments. He presents the relationship between reason and revelation as something based on mutual dependency. Reason depends on revelation in establishing its legitimacy; revelation depends on reason – and, consequently, on philosophical conclusions and philosophers – to find its meaning. Averroes’ theory of the modes of discourse shows how he believed that this formula for the relationship between reason and revelation should be conveyed to the public. It is necessary now to look at the political implications of Averroes’ account of the relationship between reason and revelation.

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Averroes’ political thought In placing Averroes’ philosophical system in its wider context and understanding its enduring influence, it is crucial to study carefully Averroes’ political thought: his understanding and opinions on government and the role of religion in public life. Any definition of an enlightenment thinker must include a political aspect: an awareness of social concerns, an ideal of government and a commitment to mobilizing the public towards that ideal. Consequently, in attempting to determine the extent to which Averroes was an early advocate of enlightenment, the political implications of his philosophical understandings must be examined. Averroes’ commentary on Plato’s Republic is seen by many scholars to be the main source of his political thought. It is important for Averroes’ work as a whole because of the political purpose of the book, which gives it a practical character, and due to its position in Averroes’ pedagogical system.74 The significance of the book’s political purpose is seen in the belief held by many scholars that the book was addressed to someone who seemed to be a member of the Almohad ruling dynasty.75 Averroes concludes the book with a direct address to the unknown patron: ‘This then – may God make your honour endure and prolong your life – is the sum of…’.76 He also adds: ‘May God help you in that you [go] in His ways, and in His Will and Holiness remove from you the obstacles.’77 In the last sentence in particular, the person addressed seems to be preparing to undertake a specific act. Averroes seems to know what this person is going to do, and he expresses his support for his or her actions. It is believed that the person in question is Abu Yahya, who was a brother of the ruler Abu Yusuf Ya‘qub and, at the same time, his political rival. It is also believed that Abu Yahya was preparing to overthrow his brother while the latter was ill. Abu Yahya did not share his brother’s hostile attitude toward philosophy and philosophers, and this brought him very close to Averroes. This might, perhaps, be the reason why Averroes showed his support for Abu Yahya’s plan, and why he answered his request to summarize Plato’s Republic: in order to help him in the running of the state. However, Abu Yusuf recovered unexpectedly, and returned to execute his brother when he discovered his plan. Averroes was accused along with several others of taking part in Abu Yahya’s conspiracy, and some scholars have argued that it was this rather than Averroes’ defence of philosophy and conflict with the religious jurists

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that led to him being exiled.78 The extent to which Averroes’ philosophy – and his fate – were inextricably intertwined with the political manoeuvrings of the politicians and rulers of his day suggests that his thought cannot be comprehensively studied without an awareness of this context. Three topics in particular are crucial to an accurate understanding of Averroes’ political thought: his conception of the ideal state and the ideal ruler; his account of the idea of war; and the political significance of his theory of discourse.

The ideal state and the ideal ruler Averroes holds that the state is a naturally existing phenomenon. He traces his own position not to Plato, but to Aristotle’s Physics. It exists naturally firstly due to man’s need to reach human perfection. This perfection has four dimensions: speculative, intellectual, ethical and practical.79 Averroes argues that it is nearly impossible for one person to acquire any one of these perfections without the help of others. This is what makes man ‘a political being by nature’.80 Secondly, the state exists naturally due to what Averroes calls ‘the necessity of life’, the basic subsistence needs common to all humanity: food, clothing, shelter and protection. Indeed Averroes extends this necessity to the animal kingdom, suggesting that it relates to the appetitive life and is therefore common to humans and animals.81 The view that the state is a naturally existing occurrence yields two main results. The first, Averroes says, is that what is true about the state is also true about the human soul. This view, which can be traced to Plato and Aristotle, is justified by the fact that any state is a collection of people, and what can be applied to one of them can necessarily be applied to a group: a sense of the ‘body politic’ in its micro- and macrocosmic dimensions.82 Therefore, he treats the state and the individual as if they belong to the same category: the category of man. He explains: for things which differ from each other in size are nevertheless one in kind, and there is nothing in the one that is contrary to what is in the other. Therefore, what is necessarily required is that justice and equity in the individual soul should be exactly [the same] as in the one State.83

This view implies that the meaning of the virtues – justice, wisdom, courage and temperance of the individual soul – is applicable also to the state,84 and

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that the purpose of the state must be the same as the purpose of the individual soul.85 It should be noted that Averroes never presents a coherent conception of the human soul. This is seen when the various conceptions of human souls he outlines in his commentaries on Plato’s Republic are compared with his commentaries on Aristotle’s De Anima. While in the first Averroes follows Plato in dividing the faculties of the soul into three parts (rational, spirited and appetitive), he follows Aristotle in the second by dividing the faculties of the soul into five: nutritive, sensory, imaginative, rational and appetitive.86 Averroes follows Plato in classifying the types of state into five: the state of honour, the state of the few, the state of the people’s community, the state of tyranny and the ideal state.87 The last type is divided into the ideal state ruled by a single king, and the ideal state ruled by the aristocracy.88 In addition, Averroes adds two more types: the state of pleasure alone, and the state of necessity.89 Regarding the ideal state, Averroes agrees with Plato about the qualities that characterize it. The ideal state must be wise by possessing knowledge and good government, and by being run by the people who have mastered speculative knowledge: the philosophers.90 It must also be courageous by keeping its laws safe and seeking to establish them among everybody. It must be temperate by choosing a middle way of managing all its activities, and it must be just by agreeing to fulfil what the law demands by doing only what every citizen is naturally prepared to do.91 However, when it comes to applying those virtues to reality, Averroes always selects his examples of the ideal state from the history of Islam. This shows the influence of Islamic revelation on him. Throughout his commentary he describes two past political Islamic regimes as his ideals. The first is the political regime established by the Prophet Muhammad and his four successors. He explains this while presenting Plato’s idea of the transformation of governments: You may understand what Plato states concerning the transformation of the Ideal constitution into the timocratic constitution, and that of the excellent into the timocratic man, from the case of the government of the Arabs in the earliest period. For they used to imitate the ideal constitution, and then were transformed in the days of Mu‘awiya92 into timocratic men.93

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The second regime described by Averroes as being ideal is the first phase of the Almoravid state, because ‘they were imitating the constitution based on law’.94 As he was a devout Muslim, it is not surprising that Averroes describes the Islamic state established by the Prophet of Islam as ideal. However, it is surprising that he describes the Almoravid regime in similar terms. Hostility towards philosophers and philosophy, as well as towards theology and theologians, was a strong characteristic of the Almoravid era. Such an attitude does not fit in with the Rushdian-Platonic description of the ideal state. It raises the question of what Averroes’ conception of the ‘ideal state’ really is, and the importance of philosophy and philosophers in his thought. In order to answer these questions, the first step is to try to find historical similarities between the two regimes he describes as ideal: that of the Prophet Muhammad and his successors, and that of the Almoravids. There were three main features that these regimes had in common. The first is an obvious one: both states were based on Islamic law in its purest sense. The second is that both states used war as a way of spreading their ideology (Islam) outside their original territories. The third is that both regimes can be described as ascetic; money never played a significant role in their life. Averroes does not show that he agrees with the Platonic ideas of communal property,95 but he does always show his condemnation of wealth and his preference for asceticism. For him, wealth does not give a society the ability to go to war, and it does not make it united.96 Averroes argues that a poor community can perform better than a rich one in war: You can see this clearly in communities which grow up among the desert-dwellers, owners of a few camels and poor men who quickly subdue peaceful, wealthy communities, as did the kings of the Arabs to the kings of Persia.97

Furthermore, an ascetic society is always united ‘like that of the members of one body’.98 Averroes’ conception of the ideal state plays a significant role in revealing his relationship to enlightenment, a subject that will be addressed in Chapters 4 and 5: is the state he imagines an enlightened one, or one that is dominated by a powerful elite and an unthinking adherence to religious doctrine? Regarding the role of philosophers in his thought, Averroes’ treatment of this topic begins with Islamizing the Platonic conception of the philoso-

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pher king. He argues that since the Islamic word for ‘political leader’ (imam in Arabic) literally means the one who is followed in actions by people, this means that the words ‘philosopher’, ‘king’, ‘imam’ and even ‘lawgiver’ are synonymous.99 He agrees with Plato that philosophers are entitled to take over the ideal state. This is a sign of the resemblance between the state and man, whose perfection relies on being governed by his rational faculties. Philosophers are the closest class of people to perfection because of their love of knowledge and truth, their mastery of the theoretical sciences and their loathing of the sensory world. Furthermore, the art of governing states is the highest art, and it must be conducted by those with the highest intellectual faculties.100 These qualities distinguish philosophers as the class that has a right to govern the ideal state. Averroes, however, does not seem to be fully convinced – as Plato is – that these qualities are sufficient for the foundation and organization of an ideal state. There are possible two reasons for this. The first is that Averroes seems to think that these qualities are mainly theoretical and personal; they are neither practical nor political. This compels him to add some more practical qualities. He states: For if there is placed over this administration one in whom five conditions are combined, namely, wisdom, perfect intelligence, good persuasion, good imagination, capacity for (waging) Holy War and no physical impediment to the performance of actions in connection with Holy War, then he is absolutely king and his government will be a truly royal government.101

The second reason is that Averroes states that it is nearly impossible to find a man who has acquired all types of human perfection.102 Therefore, he advances the idea that these qualities exist only in a group of people, not in one person. This suggests that he is in favour of aristocratic government instead of the rule of a single philosopher king. He asserts that everyone in an aristocratic regime would acquire a particular quality in a complementary manner: one would contribute by his wisdom, another by his rhetorical abilities, and so on.103 Averroes holds that ‘many of the Muslim kings’ belong to this type of aristocratic government.104 This idea, combined with Islamizing both the Platonic conception of the philosopher king and that of the ideal state, shows a clear departure from Plato’s theory of the exclusive

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rule of philosophers. It should be noted that throughout his commentary Averroes never supports the idea that philosophers are the class of people who are exclusively entitled to run the ideal state. However, Averroes still agrees with Plato that philosophers should take part in managing the state, and that any state should ‘obtain advantage’ from ‘the philosophers and the wise’ who live in it.105 He also concurs with the two reasons that Plato presents as a diagnosis of why some states do not obtain this advantage. The first is the distrust that the masses have of philosophers, and the second is the absence, in the people who claim to be philosophers, of one or more of the qualities that must be present in true philosophers. Averroes even applies these two points to his own condition, by saying that ‘When by chance a true philosopher grows up in these States he is in the position of a man who has come among wild beasts.’106 Here, in particular, is the reason for Averroes’ belief that the ideal aristocratic regime is more practical than the ideal regime ruled by a single king. This is why he asserts that the existence of all types of perfection in one man is nearly impossible. He calls for the inclusion of philosophers in the aristocratic council that rules the ideal state, so that they can contribute to governance through their rational abilities. Practically, Averroes argues, their contribution is crucial as they are entitled to interpret religion. This gives them the last word on the laws and conventions in the state. Furthermore, they are entitled to persuade the public of what is necessary because of their rhetorical skills. It should be noted that philosophy itself has no role in Averroes’ political thought, as he does not allow philosophers to divulge their philosophical discussions and conclusions to the public. Therefore, his description of the two ideal states in which philosophers do not play any political role should not be understood as indicating that he believes that philosophers have no political role to play: Averroes contradictorily stresses the political role of philosophers in running the ideal state, although this role is not exclusive to them. His conception of the ideal ruler will play a significant role in revealing his relationship to enlightenment, as Chapters 4 and 5 will show. The possibility of the existence of the ideal state is another example of a divergence of opinion between Averroes and Plato – and also of a disagreement with Kant. The latter thinks that it would be difficult for such a state to exist, because the qualifications that rulers must have make the existence of the ideal state nearly impossible. This connects to

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Plato’s description of the method that leads to the existence of the ideal state. Plato suggests that this state could come into being if a philosopher happened to take over an imperfect state as a result of being a member of its political elite. Then, Plato maintains, philosophers will rule over this state in a different manner, and will educate its citizens in order to establish virtues in their souls. Although Averroes agrees that this is the shortest and easiest way to establish the ideal state, he points out that it is not the only way of doing so. He argues that it is possible for the ideal state to come into existence gradually over a long period of time as the result of ‘a succession of excellent kings’.107 Averroes attributes the success of this long and gradual ‘reformative’ process to the influence of both the good deeds of the rulers and the laws applied. Therefore, Averroes strongly believes that the existence of the ideal state is possible in a practical sense. He explains: it is possible for men to grow up with these natural qualities, by which we have described them, and at the same time to develop by choosing the general (common) law, the adaptation of which no nation can escape. In addition, their own particular (religious) law should not be far from the human laws. Philosophy should already be perfected in their time. This is like the situation that prevails in our time and in our religious law. If it so happens that such men are rulers – and this at a time without limits – then it is possible that this State exists.108

Averroes may have had faith in the potential existence of the ideal state because of his historical circumstances. His commentary was addressed to Abu Yahya, who was preparing to overthrow his ill brother, Abu Yusuf. Averroes was said to support, or at least to sympathize with, the expected new reformative ruler. He might have thought that if he advanced Plato’s attitude about the impossibility of the existence of the ideal state, the new regime would not try to establish such a state in the first place. Instead his aim was to encourage Abu Yahya to make the main political objective of his new regime the creation of an ideal state. However, the character of this commentary, combined with the character of Averroes’ whole philosophical project, which lacks the tendency toward sociopolitical reforms through a political ideal, reduces the credibility of this idea.

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Averroes may also have believed that it is possible for the ideal state to exist because of the full meaning of the ‘ideal state’ in a historical and legal Islamic context. This goes deeper than his personal historical condition and is a sign of his commitment to Islamic revelation. Averroes himself explains that the ideal state, in its Islamic meaning, has already existed several times in history, which means that it could well exist again. Such a possibility is increased by his teleological conception of history, which is held as a result of his teleological conception of existence. His argument for the teleological conception of existence is explained in detail in the Kashf, where he employs it as proof of the existence of a wise God who creates everything deliberately for particular purposes.109 Averroes then moves on to show that all created things exist for the sake of each other.110 He asserts that man is the centre of existence because all created things exist for his sake.111 Averroes’ teleological conception of existence is also exhibited through his argument about the necessity of the ideal state’s having a purpose to its existence. He cites Plato in his argument, which agrees with Aristotle’s, that the ideal state must seek its ‘happiness’, and he defines this quality as ‘an action belonging to the rational soul [performed] with virtue’.112 So, happiness is the ultimate purpose of the ideal state. However, for Plato such happiness is linked exclusively with its ruling elite, the philosophers. Following the idea that every class in the ideal state exists for the sake of the highest class, Averroes explains in his discussion the difference between the ideal state and the tyrannical one. He writes: The difference between them is this: although in each of these two States the other classes of men aim at the perfection of the one purpose alone, in the Ideal State this is only so that each of its classes may have an aim to be sought essentially for itself. For that is its own happiness. When it is added that this aim exists for the sake of their kings, then the aims of the citizens exist because of their aims. Therefore, each of the two kinds helps the other in this Ideal State in attaining happiness, that is, the ruling class and the masses. This means that the masses serve the masters in that whereby the aim of philosophy is fulfilled for them, while the masters serve the masses in that which leads them to their happiness, if such a thing can be called

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serves. It would be more appropriate, though, to call it leadership or guidance. But this is not the case in the tyrannical State, for in it the masters seek no other aim in respect of the masses but their own.113

It is clear that in the ideal state the aim of the philosophers is also the ultimate aim of the state.

The idea of war The ideal state’s capacity to wage war seems pivotal to Averroes’ thought on this subject and demonstrates how vital the influence of Islamic revelation was to him. He even argues that the ability to wage a holy war (jihad) is one of the qualities that must be present in a ruler, or rulers, of the ideal state. This emphasis on the ability of the rulers of the ideal state to wage a holy war is perhaps the most crucial Rushdian departure from Plato’s thought. It may be that Averroes believed that the ability of any state to wage a war implied unity behind one ruler, strength and independence from other states, which were all ultimately desirable characteristics of the ideal state. Therefore, the emphasis on the ability to wage war was rooted in the necessary preconditions of such an ability rather than the desire for a state to exercise it frequently. This attitude shows the impact of the historicalsocial conditions of his own time, given that the Muslims of Iberia were in a situation of constant war with the Christians there. In addition, as this commentary on Plato’s Republic was addressed to a potential new ruler, Averroes might have thought that it was important to emphasize the central requirement of a ruler to wage jihad. However, within a theoretical framework the importance of war in Averroes’ thought is even more significant. It shows that the universal character of the ideal state is influenced deeply by the social context within which it is interpreted, in this case by the idea of jihad. The centrality of war in Averroes’ thought is shown clearly when he asserts that ‘we are of the opinion that this state could fittingly fight against all the inhabitants of the earth’.114 Averroes thinks of the ideal state as having a missionary aim, seeking to spread its superior ideology to the universe by either peaceful or warlike means. Averroes, moreover, disagrees with Plato on the purpose of war.

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Firstly, he takes a different view on the relationship between virtues and arts. Both Plato and Averroes state that war is an art. However, Averroes believes that art serves as a preparation for an ultimate virtue while Plato holds that it is a necessity in itself. Averroes, influenced by Aristotle and Farabi, presents the relationship between virtues and arts as one of reciprocity: many virtues exist for the sake of the arts, and many arts exist for the sake of virtues.115 For Averroes, therefore, war is an art that exists for the sake of a virtue – the virtue of spreading the ideology of the ideal state to other states. Averroes and Plato also differ on the universality of virtues. Averroes not surprisingly disagrees with the Platonic-Aristotelian idea that the Greeks are, by nature, the only people who are able to reach perfection. This view implies that any attempt to establish virtues in the souls of other races, whether by education or by coercion, is futile. At first, Averroes refutes this argument by showing that the ability to speculate is not exclusively Greek; it is a characteristic shared by several races. It is ‘often found, for example, in our own country Spain, and in Syria, Iraq and Egypt, even though such (individuals) may have existed more frequently in Greece’.116 Averroes contends that a function of the ideal state is to wage war against imperfect states as a way of establishing virtues in the souls of the people. He states: Yet for the nations which are not good and whose (system of government) is not human[e], there is no other way of teaching except by this method, namely coercing them through war to be bound to virtue.117

Averroes, then, draws this comparison between jihad and war in order to spread Islam and virtues, and of establishing both in the souls of mankind. He writes: In our divine law, the same is true of laws which follow [the pattern of] the human laws, for the ways which lead in it to God are two: one by persuasion and the other by war.118

The root of his attitude towards the purpose of war is clearly in the idea of jihad, which is aimed at spreading Islam. This is shown in his legal book Bidayat al-mujtahid, where he expresses a typical juridical Maliki

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attitude in legal language addressed to the public. Here, he asserts that the reason for war is to expand the Islamic state, both by forcing non-Muslims to give tributes and by spreading Islam.119 This evidence of Averroes’ commitment to Islamic revelation is crucial in determining his relationship to enlightenment, as will be shown in Chapter 5. However, Averroes agrees with Plato that the ideal state must be moderate in size.120 This is one of the results of viewing the state as a naturally existing entity. In this regard, the perfection of such a state resembles the perfection of man, whose size should be neither the size of a cubit nor the size of 60 cubits – a concept of natural and correct proportions for humanity in its collective and individual manifestations.121 Averroes, however, must reconcile his own universal conception of the ideal state – influenced by the universality of the Islamic faith – with Plato’s conception of it, which is influenced by the idea of Greek exclusivity. He calls to ‘make out of this (State) many States, according to the proper extension’.122 So, instead of one ideal Greek community, as propounded in the original Platonic idea, Averroes argues in favour of universal ideal communities, each having a limited extension. Averroes then moves on to develop this departure from Plato by suggesting the proper principle that determines the extension of each of these ideal communities. He says: it is proper for each of the ideal communities, that is, for every single one of them to have a limited extension. If a limited number is intended for these communities in their delimitation, then it is right to verify this opinion by [applying to them] the test of climes, or of all the natural [distinction between] human beings. This is hinted at in the statement of the Master of the Law: ‘I have been sent to the Red and to the Black’.123

So, Averroes, despite his commitment to the universal character of the Prophet Muhammad’s message, recognizes the natural ethnic differences between humans: the red and the black.124 For Averroes, what the Prophet says seems to coincide with what Aristotle says. This goes back to the substantial character of the state as a naturally existing phenomenon, and suggests to him that each ideal state should be distinguished naturally. This seems to connect, according to the previous quotation, with the

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ethnic differences between humans. Such a view implies that each ideal state should represent a particular ethnic group. It should be noted that Averroes links the geographical location of nations to their social and ethical qualities. This is exemplified by his refutation of Plato’s argument on the particularity of the Greek nation regarding their natural speculative abilities. Averroes argues that such abilities are spread among nations who live ‘in the two moderate climates, the fifth and the fourth’,125 referring to the nations that live by the Mediterranean Sea. His reference to the ‘test of climes’ in the quotation above is tightly linked to a broader conception of a natural distinction between humans, based on their ethnicities. Averroes’ argument about ideal communities that have limited extensions based on ethnic differences shows that his assertion of the importance of waging wars (jihad) is not aimed at creating an empire. In addition, it demonstrates that he draws a distinction between the locality of the government of the ideal state and the universality of its virtues. This not only differs from Platonic thought, but it also differs from the traditional Islamic legal attitude to the subject of the unity, which is that there should be one Islamic nation with one ruler, despite ethnic differences. Although Averroes’ argument on the multiplicity of ideal communities can be justified by the fact that he lived when the Islamic empire was already falling apart, his argument about the ideal ethnic state cannot fit into the social conditions in which he lived. His society was multi-ethnic, consisting of Arabs, Berbers and Jews.

The political significance of Averroes’ theory of discourse As was the case in his account of the relationship between revelation and reason, Averroes’ political thought is bound up with his theory of discourse and its political significance. Examining Averroes’ theory of discourse is crucial to determine his relationship to enlightenment, as it shows the way he intends to communicate with the public. While his commentary on Plato’s Republic is the main source for his politics, his commentary on Aristotle’s Rhetoric is the main source for his theory of discourse. The first part of his commentary on Aristotle’s Rhetoric is devoted to the enthymeme, which is the rhetorical argument itself. Here, Averroes intends to provide the logical meaning of rhetoric.126 The second part focuses on the

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role of external factors such as consensus and testimonies in the rhetorical argument.127 Regarding the first part, although the Rhetoric is usually classified among Aristotle’s political writings, it has been widely noticed that Averroes deals with this Aristotelian text as a logical one, to the extent that he includes it among the logical treatises of the Organon. This is also shown in Averroes’ emphasis on the logical aspects of it, rather than the political ones.128 Although Averroes recognizes the political function of rhetoric, he extends its scope beyond politics. Unlike Aristotle, who sees rhetoric as a mode of discourse used by political leaders to persuade the public about policies, Averroes, as part of the Islamic philosophical tradition, sees it as a mode of discourse used by the philosophical elite in order to address theoretical subjects to the public. The aim of doing so, as Averroes explains in his commentaries on Aristotle’s Rhetoric and on Plato’s Republic, is to impress moral virtue on people.129 This cannot be done without teaching them theoretical subjects. The need for such subjects exists because theoretical knowledge is the way to human perfection, and, as Averroes states, everyone should obtain ‘as much of human perfection’ as they can.130 Theoretical knowledge is very useful as a basis for practical knowledge.131 Thus, in Averroes’ account, theory is the necessary basis for moral virtue, and all citizens need to obtain beliefs about theoretical subjects.132 He argues that the existence of the theoretical part is for the sake of the highest good, which makes these kinds of science higher than the practical ones.133 The existence of the practical sciences is not for the highest good, but it is necessary for the sake of the theoretical sciences. Averroes explains the relationship between the theoretical and practical sciences by referring to the relationship between the intelligible being and the sensible being. For him, the ‘[i]ntelligible being is the principle of sensible existence because it is its purpose, form and efficient cause’.134 The question here, however, is why does Averroes think that philosophers alone are entitled to use rhetoric in order to educate people? The answer to this cannot be fully obtained without highlighting Averroes’ theory of discourse, which is highly influenced by Aristotle’s own ideas on this subject. Firstly, Averroes insists that rhetoric itself is a syllogism.135 Therefore, it can only be mastered by people who have already mastered logic.136 Secondly, there is the educational purpose of rhetoric, and the

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philosophers’ status as the only class of people who are able to translate knowledge from a demonstrative language into a rhetorical one.137 For Averroes, the Qur’an contains three modes of argument: rhetorical, dialectical and demonstrative, and each mode is applicable to a particular class of people. The rhetorical argument is suitable for the public; the dialectical argument is useful for dialecticians (theologians); and the demonstrative argument is best for the demonstrative class, that is, the philosophers. Averroes insists that the rhetorical and the dialectical modes of argument cannot reach the full truth of the Qur’an because they lack the demonstrative abilities necessary to interpret some of the verses. So, for Averroes, philosophers are the only group who can grasp the full meaning of the Qur’an and are thus entitled to provide an interpretation of it. As a result, Averroes insists that philosophers alone are able to learn the theoretical subjects in the most proper way through demonstration, and to teach them to the public through the least rigorous mode of discourse, which is rhetoric. His purpose in writing short and medium length commentaries on Aristotle’s rhetoric is to teach philosophers how to accomplish this. In this way, Averroes places philosophy at the service of religion rather than addressing it to the public. The second part of the text deals with the role of externals. Defined by Aristotle, ‘external’ arguments, also sometimes called ‘non-artistic proof’, stand in contrast to ‘internal’ arguments, which must be found or discovered by the rhetorician. External arguments are not part of the art of rhetoric; they are persuasive in and of themselves – the testimony of witnesses, oaths, documents and so forth. Externals and internals – or demonstrations and dialectical arguments – were both valid forms of argument for Aristotle, but he denied that the former had any place in the latter. Averroes, however, accepts the use of externals. They are not part of the argument itself, but they are an effective way to arouse passion. This is because, as he argues, it is proper to educate people by all means that have some effect on assent, whether they are produced rationally or are external demonstrations. The emphasis on the role of external or non-artistic proofs in Averroes’ account is a common tendency within the Islamic philosophical tradition; it can also be seen in the writings of Farabi and Avicenna. This tendency highlights the persuasive and communicative goals of logic along with its rational ones.138 However, Averroes holds that

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the rational aspects of rhetoric are more important than demonstrative proofs. He also attempts to show that relying on the latter alone produces a weak argument, one which is classified lower than those that are based on deliberative rhetoric.139 Averroes insists that the aim of rhetoric is to persuade people.140 Persuasion is defined by him as a kind of probable supposition that the soul trusts, despite its awareness of an opposite consideration. This means that, despite the independent standards of demonstrative argument, the standards of rhetorical argument cannot be independent of the people. Different people at different times, in different places or conditions, assent to different arguments. Therefore, from a traditionally Aristotelian standpoint, Averroes asserts that the premises of any rhetorical argument must be generally accepted by the people, although they are not necessarily true according to demonstrative standards or criteria. In other words, the premises of the rhetorical argument resemble the truth, but they are not necessarily true.

Reconciliation, not challenge It is evident from Averroes’ account of the relationship between revelation and reason that, although he considers them to be distinct from each other, he tried to reconcile them rather than making one superior to the other. A brief account of Averroes’ historical context demonstrates that he was a philosopher in an extremely anti-philosophical society, one in which philosophy could be openly attacked and so had to be conducted behind closed doors. Yet, although he was responding to anti-philosophical thinkers – who rejected rationality – Averroes never became anything like an anti-religious thinker. The extent of his radicalism was to insist and demonstrate that reason had a role in faith and religious argument as much as the revealed truth of the Qur’an. In this regard, although the character of revelation and that of reason are distinct, Averroes attempts to include both in the formation of a religious argument, and he presents the relationship between them as based on mutual dependency. There are three indications of Averroes’ attempt to include reason in religious argument. The first is that reason is the standard on which Averroes’ distinction between clear and ambiguous

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verses in the Qur’an is based. The second is that Averroes’ interpretation of the Qur’an uses reason directly or indirectly: the interpretation of the ambiguous verses relies directly on reason, while the interpretation of the clear verses relies on, and is constructed by, rational syllogistic reasoning. The third indication, and the most obvious one, is Averroes’ assertion that philosophers are the only class of people entitled to classify and interpret revealed texts. This gives them the last word on religious matters. Averroes’ account of the relationship between reason and revelation, however, does not lead him to challenge the authority of revelation as the embodiment of divine and universal truth. This is because reason’s superiority is still restricted by the intent of the Shari‘ah, along with the rule of the Arabic language. This is shown, for example, in Averroes’ account of the ideal state, which is based solely on the Shari‘ah. It is also manifested in his idea of war, which is rooted in the idea of jihad. This means that Averroes’ account of the relationship between reason and revelation does not depart from the traditional Islamic attitude. The significance of this for Averroes’ relationship to enlightenment will become clearer in Chapters 4 and 5.

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REVELATION AND REASON, AND POLITICS, IN THE ENLIGHTENMENT Kant’s account

With Averroes’ historical, social, political and intellectual contexts examined, as well as his account of the relationship between revelation and reason, it is now time to turn to Kant, one of the most significant figures of the European Enlightenment. The groundwork for forming an accurate judgement of Averroes’ nature as an enlightenment figure – or not – has been laid. But such a judgement can only be made by understanding what an enlightenment figure is. This is where a comparison with Kant will prove most useful. It may seem counter-intuitive to choose Immanuel Kant (1724–1804), born six centuries later than Averroes and in a Western European context that had dramatically diverged from any common ground it might have once had with the Arab-Islamic world, to compare and contrast with our polymath. It would be difficult, indeed, to think of a comparison that seems on the surface less likely. But in the context of the vexed question of Arab enlightenment, there is method in this (seeming) madness. In trying to understand why the Arab-Islamic world failed to have its own ‘enlightenment’, scholars have attempted to comprehend what form this enlightenment should have taken, or might still take. Views are divided roughly between those who believe that any Arab enlightenment must mimic the Western world’s Enlightenment and those who hold that an authentically Arab version of enlightenment should develop organically from its heritage and history. Whichever view is taken, it is undeniable that an Arab enlightenment – past or future, projected or failed – will share certain basic characteristics with the Enlightenment, which originated in eighteenth-century Europe and eventually engulfed the entire Western world. And there is no more quintessentially ‘Enlightened’ figure

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than Immanuel Kant, both a representative of and a crucially important contributor to the maturing of the Enlightenment. Like Averroes, Kant wrote about the relationship between reason and revelation and the implications of that for the political sphere. If we can identify common ground between Kant and Averroes in the content, methodology and political implications of their respective accounts of reason and revelation, there will be some justification for considering Averroes as a proto-enlightenment figure. Kant’s influence on modern Arab thought – which is as pervasive as it is largely unacknowledged – can be analysed through this comparison. What is exposed is the anachronistic attribution of a Kantian type of rationality to Averroes and to Arab rationality in general. The adopted definition of enlightenment in this study – namely, ‘mobilizing the public towards sociopolitical reforms through a political ideal, or a set of political ideals, based on philosophical insight’ – is itself derived from Kant’s thought. This chapter will elucidate those elements of Kant’s thought that support this definition. Such a comprehensive, neutral, literal and flexible definition of enlightenment will be a suitable basis for judging whether Averroes was an early enlightener, as many contemporary Arab scholars claim, or not. To show how the definition of enlightenment adopted in this book relates to Kant’s philosophical system, this definition will be divided into four elements, each of which corresponds to an aspect of Kant’s thought. To begin with philosophical insight: this refers to the creative engagement of a philosopher with the major contemporary philosophical themes of his era, resulting in original conclusions. In Kant’s case, his philosophical insight is seen in the epistemological domain, where he argues successfully that knowledge rises through the union of senses and understanding; in the metaphysical domain, in which he attempts to save the three traditional metaphysical themes, God, immortality and freedom, from being deconstructed by empirical examination; and in the moral domain, in which he asserts that morality is a concept that is based on demonstration, not on experience. The second element of the definition of enlightenment is the political ideal, or set of political ideals, that is grounded in the philosophical insights of the thinker in question. The latter represents the deep conceptual, epistemological and metaphysical justification for the enlightener’s political

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ideal(s), while the political ideal represents the political employment of his philosophical insight. Kant has the ideal of freedom as his political ideal and this is the ultimate aim of his whole philosophical system.1 His idea of freedom is rooted in his solid philosophical insight, and employed in his ideas of a republican constitution and perpetual peace. It penetrates every element of his thought. The third element of the definition is the advocating of sweeping sociopolitical reforms. This refers to the philosopher’s calls to translate his political ideals into implemented, materialized and institutional reforms in the political and social domains. This is found in Kant’s thought through his call for the gradual transformation of states towards republican constitutions, the establishment of perpetual peace between nations and, most importantly, the establishment of the true church as a result of his account of the relationship between reason and revelation. The fourth element of the definition involves mobilizing the public. This demands that the philosopher must have at least the intention of reaching out to the public through writings and speeches in order to present his enlightened ideas to them. In this regard, many of Kant’s moral, political and religious books were intentionally devoted to the public. The definition of enlightenment adopted here, which is derived from Kant’s thought, has a very clearly and specifically political character: the ‘enlightener’ has an obvious set of sociopolitical reforms in mind that he wishes to see enacted, and he seeks to reach out to the public in order to convince them of these reforms’ desirability and necessity, in the hope of seeing them realized. More importantly, the enlightener’s political ideal is rooted in his philosophical insight, which is in its turn employed politically. It will become clear that Kant’s philosophical system was in just such a way ultimately political in its aims and character. In order to reveal the maturation of Kant’s philosophical enquiry, it is helpful to keep in mind a brief chronological account of his primary works. His intellectual production mainly falls into the categories of epistemology, morality and religion. In his theoretical-epistemological work, Kant’s aim was to prove that knowledge arises through the union of senses and understanding. For this reason, he wrote his Critique of Pure Reason, published first in 1781 and then in 1788, and then his Critique of Judgement, published in 1790. In his moral-political philosophy, his aim was to present

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an ideal conception of morality based on demonstration. He wrote the Metaphysics of Morals, published in 1785, Critique of Practical Reason, published in 1786, and Toward Perpetual Peace, a Philosophical Sketch, published in 1795. In his works in the category of religion, Kant aimed to defend the Enlightenment from religious-pietistic attack, particularly in Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone, published in 1793, and Conflict of the Faculties, published in 1798. Within this outline, it is possible to sketch a broad evolution of Kant’s preoccupations from epistemology through morality to religion. Within the contemporary Western tradition, there are three main perspectives on Kant’s philosophical system, how its parts relate to each other and the position of his political thought. The first is the belief that the epistemological and moral elements of Kant’s work represent the backbone and the ultimate aim of his philosophical system; the second is the belief that Kant’s political thought is significant, although not the ultimate aim of his philosophical system; and the third is the belief that Kant’s political thought is the ultimate aim of his philosophical system. Regarding the first of these, underestimating Kant’s political thought used to be common in English-speaking countries. It was merely considered to be an introduction to Hegel’s political thought.2 This was because firstly, the focus was always on his three critiques rather than on his other works;3 secondly, there was an absence of a main and systemic political work;4 and thirdly, his ethical work, which is solid and deep, makes his political writings appear shallow and accidental.5 Indeed, such an underestimation of Kant’s political thought was not the only misunderstanding within Anglo-American circles. For example, during the 1970s and the 1980s the understanding of Kant’s distinction between the sensible and the intelligible was thought to be a distinction between two types of objects. This view became more nuanced when it was perceived that Kant’s distinction was between two ways in which objects can be considered.6 The second view of Kant’s philosophy is the belief that his political thought is important, but it is not the primary intention of his philosophy. Some argue that there is no relationship between Kant’s epistemology and metaphysics, on the one hand, and his political thought on the other. Rather, he simply moves pragmatically from religion to politics because he does not want his moral thought to be limited within the private sphere

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of individuals, and also because he has to clarify his religious and moral thought to the government and the public.7 The belief that there is no relationship between Kant’s epistemology and metaphysics on the one hand, and his political thought on the other is analysed by Velkley. He contends that the dilemma of modern philosophy – which Kant expresses – is that it tries to liberate human reason from any sort of external authority, which involves getting rid of any super-sensual beliefs such as a given telos. The philosopher Rousseau clarified this for Kant, and Kant aimed to solve this dilemma by separating speculative and practical pure reason.8 Here, interpreters concentrate solely on Kant’s moral philosophy, which many argue is derived from Plato’s idea that moral concepts are a priori; Aristotle’s idea of the highest end; and Augustine’s notion of the ‘good will’.9 The third view of Kant’s philosophy is the belief that his political thought is the ultimate aim of his philosophical system.10 Hutchings, for example, argues that the roots of Kant’s political thought can be found in his critical, apolitical work.11 Saner’s view is another example: he aims to prove that Kant’s political thought is original and is at the centre of his whole philosophy, even though he was not himself politically active.12 For Saner, the key theme of Kant’s philosophy is always the movement from diversity to unity and how this may be achieved. This theme finds its forms in his metaphysics and physics, and its apparent expression through Kant’s political thought.13 Such an argument is based on the analogy between the central ideas of Kant’s metaphysical and physical thought and other central ideas in his political thought. The latter include, for example, the analogy between Kant’s theory of matter as the main unit of nature and the individual as the main unit of society, and his theory of antagonism in nature and history. Saner’s argument is strengthened by the fact that these two concepts are philosophical not scientific, and by the fact that Kant always maintains that the practical employment of practical reason is superior to the speculative ones.14 Within this third position, however, there are contradictory estimations of Kant’s political thought and the sort of liberalism it offers. For some ideologists like Yack, if the social contract is central to Kant’s political thought because it joins together both moral autonomy and political authority in a conceptual unity, this raises questions about Kant’s form of liberalism.15 Yack criticizes Kant’s liberalism for its unrealistic view of

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the shared identity of all men as moral agents. This is because it might lead us to ignore the differences between men, and consequently to violate the basic principles of liberalism: pluralism and tolerance. He calls it ‘deontological liberalism’16 as the ‘theory that claims that if we proceed “deontological[ly]” in our political reasoning, if we subordinate our various and controversial conceptions of the good to our conception of rightness, we will come to recognise the legitimacy of our liberal practices and institutions’.17 However, some argue that Kant’s political thought, although it has different foundations from the liberalism of the Anglo-American tradition, has a clear liberal bent, namely found in its emphasis upon autonomy, obligation and the highest ends. Kant’s practical philosophy provides a basis for liberal principles. Without it, an understanding of the ethical and political elements of liberalism would be lacking. Kant’s liberalism is based on duties, not on rights.18 Nevertheless, these contradictory estimations of Kant’s liberalism indicate that his political thought has been accorded more significance over time. Indeed, it will be argued here that, through his idea of freedom, the ultimate aim of his philosophical system was very much political.19

Kant’s historical context After the Peace of Westphalia, which ended the Thirty Years’ War and inaugurated a new system of political order and sovereignty in Western Europe, the Reformation played a significant role in increasing the national identity of the states of the Holy Roman Empire and their independence of Imperial authority. This was due to the tendency of Protestant churches to seek support and protection from political rulers, and to the need for Protestant churches to control education in order to secure their intellectual sphere.20 For both reasons, the position of political rulers in the Protestant states within the Empire was improved, and an era of ‘absolutism’ began in German-speaking states. An ideological justification for absolutism was also found. The German political sphere was penetrated by Jean Bodin’s theory of ‘sovereignty’, and by Thomas Hobbes’ theory of the ‘war of all against all’.21 Hobbes’ influence on German thought can be seen in the way freedom was defined in Germany. Instead of defining it as freedom of trade, as it was

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defined in England, or as a form of protest against sociopolitical elites, as it was defined in France, freedom in Germany took the meaning of religious liberty under the rule of a neutral and absolute sovereign.22 Furthermore, although it rejected the idea of the social contract, the political regime in Prussia was always considered to be based on a Hobbesian version of political theory. The political legitimacy of the princes and their absolute authority were always seen as emerging from the citizens, and no one in Prussia justified the reign of the Hohenzollern dynasty by referring to divine will. Absolutism was also supported by the Protestant churches, although its advocates never tried to provide a theological justification for it, or give a divine character to their rulers. Instead, they gave a secular justification based on the theory of the social contract, seeing the rulers as the ‘fathers of the nation’, or the government as the ‘common father’.23 Hobbes’ influence on the German political sphere would be challenged by Kant. The idea of absolutism was attractive to several distinguished European figures, including Hugo Grotius, Samuel von Pufendorf, Carl Gottlieb24 and Christian Wolff (1679–754). Christian Wolff was the main intellectual figure in Germany before the rise of Kant’s ideas.25 He was a teacher of mathematics at the University of Halle. He believed in reason and in the rational genealogy of morality. This made him disliked by the pietistic, and forced Frederick I to send him into exile. Wolff spent his time abroad teaching until the enlightened despot, Frederick the Great (1740–86) repatriated him.26 It is important to remember that Kant lived most of his life during the reign of Frederick the Great. During the eighteenth century, the Enlightenment had become influential within the Prussian state, and Wolff was its main advocate.27 His influence was seen in both the political and intellectual domains. Politically, he was clearly influenced by Hobbes’ theory of the social contract.28 This, in turn, influenced Frederick the Great and the way he ruled over Prussia. For example, the Enlightenment, which was mainly advocated by Wolff in Prussia and the other German-speaking countries, had become the main ideological theme of the Prussian state since the beginning of Frederick’s reign. This was because Frederick himself was enlightened and tried to encourage the German thinkers to consolidate the Enlightenment within the German intellectual sphere. This was manifested in his belief in human reason and religious liberty,29 which made him known as the ‘enlightened

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despot’.30 This was also because, despite the example of the French version, the Enlightenment in Prussia was not an ideology of protest. Instead, Wolff and his students at all the Prussian universities were in harmony with the political regime. This created a free religious and social, but not political, atmosphere. Another example of how Wolff was influential on Frederick was in the view that the state must function as a huge machine, under strict rules and systems. One of the main implications of this idea was that the interests of the state have priority over those of the individual. In everyday life this was shown by the lack of respect that the Prussian authority showed to the civil rights of its citizens.31 Intellectually, Wolff’s influence was profound, since his students were teaching at all the German universities. It was particularly strong after he returned from exile to his old university, Halle, which became the centre of rationalism in Prussia.32 His authority was increased by the high social position enjoyed by the learned in eighteenth-century Prussia.33 Wolff’s intellectual influence supported his political influence. This was because all teachers in Prussian universities were appointed by the government.34 However, the year 1790 was a turning point in the intellectual history of Prussia. Wolff’s intellectual authority started to diminish as that of Adam Smith grew. This changed the intellectual-political sphere in Prussia dramatically.35

Kant’s intellectual context In the seventeenth century, the Lutheran church had developed from its radical, iconoclastic beginnings to become a hierarchical institution with scholastic, dogmatic teachings.36As a reaction to its perceived negative influence, the trends of Pietism and Deism appeared. The roots of Deism in Germany can be found in the rational philosophy of Gottfried Leibniz and Christian Wolff, and in the empirical philosophy of English Deism, and the philosophy of Locke in particular.37 Pietism, on the other hand, was a theological movement. Its aim was to revive Christianity by prayer and the study of the Holy Book as a means of nourishing the soul of each believer.38 In this regard, Pietism advanced the belief in the authority of revelation above natural religion and in the power of God’s grace to transform the lives of believers.39 It also asserted itself on the practical side of religion by calling for benevolence and kindliness, and the priority of morality

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over theoretical study.40 In its call for the individual reading of the Bible, and the assertion of the practical side of religion, Pietism reintroduced a form of Christianity with a strong emphasis on individualism.41 However, the movement suffered from some serious weaknesses. Its doctrines soon turned to mysticism42 and crucially, its emphasis on the salvation of the soul gave rise to a careless attitude towards the external world due to the anticipation of the second coming of the Saviour. Nevertheless, in theology, by weakening the dogmatism of the Lutheran church, Pietism made room for the rise of rationalism.43 At this time, the Enlightenment was a very important intellectual, and political, force in Europe and the German-speaking states. It was not a coherent body of ideas, but a mood of thought: the belief in the power of reason to analyse not only nature, but also man and society. It encompassed the advancement of freedom in religious, political and social matters, the rejection of religious dogma, the realization of self-consciousness and the optimistic belief in intellectual progress.44 The movement of free thinkers in England, and Voltaire in France, contributed to the advance of Deism and the Enlightenment in Germany.45 However, in contrast to England and France, the Enlightenment was not a revolutionary movement in Germany. German thinkers were different from their British and French counterparts. They were less empirical and more abstract, and they did not have the opportunity to engage in lively political discussion.46 In addition, the economic situation in Germany did not help to create a self-confident middle class independent from the state. This weakened the scope and grasp of revolutionary ideas. Also, as the German states were small in size, the German governments were able to exercise effective bureaucratic control over their subjects.47 Owing to the religious wars in Europe, the free Deist thinkers of the Enlightenment attempted to establish the primary of rationality over blind faith and revealed truth, either by subjecting revelation to reason – as was the case with English thinkers – or seeking to establish the truth independent of all religions – as was the case with French thinkers.48 Although Kant agreed with many of the Deist presuppositions, he differed from his French peers in his attempt to stop reason from deconstructing the validity of the idea of God. From the seventeenth century onwards, metaphysics was a dominant theme in the intellectual sphere in Prussia. This was because of new developments in science, introduced mainly by Isaac Newton (1643–1727).

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These encouraged an inductive, empirical method, which replaced the Aristotelian deductive method in natural science49 and represented a serious threat to the validity of metaphysics as a basis for obtaining knowledge. This threat prompted Leibniz and Wolff to respond with reassurances about the validity of rational deduction in obtaining knowledge.50 However, this Leibnizian-Wolffian attempt to restore metaphysics was confronted with another serious attack from Pietism, the mainstream religious sect in Prussia at the time.51 Pietism developed an anti-rationalist view in harmony with the inductive empirical one, denying the capability of reason to provide any sort of knowledge beyond the senses.52 Such a view was brought about by the Pietists’ belief that the deductive, rationalist approach would inevitably lead to atheism.53 Kant’s city, KÖnigsberg, was an open trade centre. This enabled him to meet and have fruitful conversations with many merchants and foreigners.54 The city was also an important centre in the rise of both Pietism and Deism.55 His school, the Collegium Fridericianum, advocated Pietism in the city. But the University of KÖnigsberg, where he later studied and taught, was dominated by staff like Martin Knutzen (1713–51), Kant’s teacher, who was influenced by English Deism.56 Kant adopted some key ideas from his teacher, such as the importance of Christian revelation and the significance of Christ’s example to people. Although he did not enjoy his experience at the Collegium Fridericianum, he did not turn against religion as a whole.57 Kant’s religious scholastic background affected his later work in the way that he was positively influenced by the pietistic emphasis on practical morality. However, his background also affected his work in a negative way. Firstly, Kant disagreed with the pietistic anti-rationalist position on scripture. Secondly, he objected to the exaggerated enthusiasm of the Pietists, who perceived their relationship to God as a mystical, miraculous and anti-rationalist understanding.58 Finally, he was against the religious traditions and practices of his time, which were full of rituals.59 For him, the anti-rationalist and ritual character of the pietistic understanding and practices of his time worked against fulfilling the moral and intellectual development of individuals.60 Kant was not the only one of the GermanPrussian intellectuals to have a rational and critical attitude to Pietism; he had been preceded by Christian Wolff. Kant sought to secure, present and increase the rational grounds not

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only of natural science, but also of religion and morality. He tried to achieve this by reconstructing the foundation of metaphysics.61 Chronologically, Kant’s works can be divided into the work that was produced in the pre-critical period, and the work which was produced in the critical period. The first phase was characterized by Kant’s involvement with scientific works, influenced by Newton and Hume, and he proposed reconciling Newtonian mechanisms with Leibnizian perfectionism and with religion.62 The second phase, which started with the publication of the Critique of Pure Reason, is marked by his critique of Hume and empiricism in general, and his involvement with moral issues as a result of Rousseau’s influence. In this critical period, as has been shown, his intellectual production falls into the main categories63 of theoretical-epistemological works, moral-political philosophy and the defence of the Enlightenment from religious-pietistic attack. The works in the final category deal solely with religion, and in them Kant expresses more forcibly his opposition to the religious-pietistic school of thought.64 These three categories of Kant’s work are crucial to the definition of enlightenment in this book. In his epistemological work, Kant’s aim was to prove that knowledge arises through the union of the senses and understanding. The first makes us aware of the object, and the second enables us to think about it. This shows that Kant never denied the importance of experience in gaining knowledge. However, he contends that reason gives an order to the objects perceived by the senses, which implies that reason is prior to sensation. This compelled him to refute the previous idealist doctrines of René Descartes (1596– 1650) and George Berkeley (1685–1753), as well as to rebut the empiricist doctrines of David Hume (1711–76) and John Locke (1632–1704), which deeply challenged metaphysics. Hume and Locke were the main sources of empiricist epistemological theories at that time, and they stimulated Kant’s thought to respond to their intellectual challenges. Hume rejected the existence of a principle of causality as power of moving bodies, referring to it as the ‘volition of the Supreme Being’.65 Locke did not reject the principle of causality, but denied that it is an innate principle.66 In his theory of knowledge, which Kant criticized and refuted, Locke denies the existence of any innate principle in the mind, including mathematical demonstration.67 Rather, he argues that ideas come from sensation and reflection.68 Sensation is the result of the encounter

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between our senses and sensible objects.69 Reflection is a reflection of the first through the operation of the mind: thinking, believing and doubting, and so on.70 Furthermore, Locke represented an intellectual challenge to Kant in the domains of religion and morality, as he denies that there are any innate practical principles, including justice and faith.71 For him, God and morality can be demonstrated.72 Man undoubtedly knows himself, which inevitably makes him know that he was generated from an eternal, most knowing Being: God.73 Morality, in its turn, finds its validity empirically through its link with ‘public happiness’.74 Intending to refutate both the idealist and empiricist theories, and present his own epistemological theory, Kant wrote his most important book, Critique of Pure Reason. Here, he discusses these points, and answers the logical question that arises of how a judgement can be simultaneously synthetic and a priori.75 This subject was also addressed in his book Critique of Judgement. His account of the a priori and synthetic principles was the background to his moral philosophy, in which the idea of freedom is central. This was followed by a presentation of an ideal conception of morality based on demonstration. In his moral thought, Kant was influenced by British psychological moralists such as Francis Hutcheson. This was exemplified in his following their methods in grounding ethics in human nature.76 However, he departed from this school into the Greek tradition, in particular the ethical work of Socrates and Plato, and tended to search for the transcendental universal law as the essential character of human nature, instead of looking at that human nature itself. Kant, however, did not reject all Locke’s ideas. In general, Locke was highly influential in the German intellectual sphere. This is not because of his political thought or because of his theory of the social contract. Rather, as it represented a theological and rational justification of toleration, Locke’s theological thought was applicable to the German condition.77 His formula for the relationship between reason and revelation was also attractive because it found a way to remove the contradiction between them. He believes that reason is prior to faith if reason is certain about truth, while faith is prior to reason when reason is not certain.78 Regarding the relationship between the state and the church, a subject that would also inspire Kant, he draws a distinction between them. For Locke, the church must not conduct any activities that the state prohibits, and the

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state must not impose any sort of belief on the church.79 The church, for Locke – and later, for Kant – is merely ‘a voluntary Society of Men’, and therefore it must not be expanded into society.80 Furthermore, he rejects ‘ecclesiastical faith’ and clergy, denying the importance of rites in divine worship,81 a position that would also be held by Kant. The purpose of the state, then, is to procure, preserve and advance the civil interests of its citizens.82 Therefore, it should not concern itself with the salvation of the souls of its citizens. For Locke, salvation is a private matter for each citizen.83 He believes that any interference by the state in the care of the souls of citizens would be merely external, while real salvation depends on internal belief.84 He asserts that individuals must tolerate each other despite their religious differences.85 Kant is influenced by Locke when it comes to his formula for the relationship between reason and revelation. In a deeper way, Rousseau, who was the main figure in the Romantic Movement, influenced Kant. His account of the love of nature and public manners was attractive, in particular to the younger generation and to Kant himself. Rousseau was extremely important for both Kant’s rationalism and his moral thought.86 This was clear in Kant’s adoption and adaptation of the main aspects of Rousseau’s philosophy: equality, contract, obligation and freedom. What is more, Rousseau’s influence shifted the focus of Kant’s philosophy towards the relationship between reason and freedom, human equality and rights.87 Kant did not show any interest in moral philosophy until, beginning in 1762, he read Rousseau’s work.88 He did not hide his admiration for Rousseau, describing him as the ‘noble sweep of genius’,89 and calling him ‘the Newton of the moral world’.90 Kant’s Observations on the Feeling of the Beautiful and the Sublime, published in 1764, only two years after Rousseau’s books were translated into German, shows his immediate reaction to Rousseau.91 This was followed by his Critique of Pure Reason in 1781, which showed the moral-political motive behind his critical project. This contributes to the view that the ultimate aim of Kant’s philosophical project was political. However, he disagreed with Rousseau on moral philosophy. While Rousseau’s method in searching for human nature was to go back in history, Kant’s method was mainly demonstrative and psychological.92 This was because Kant did not think that Rousseau’s historical method would lead to the discovery of a universal law of human nature.

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The death of Frederick the Great, and the reign of his successor, Frederick William II, changed the intellectual climate in Prussia dramatically in favour of Pietism. In 1786, Kant, who sensed such changes before they became official policy, issued his essay ‘What does it mean to orient oneself in thinking?’ This showed his awareness of the changes.93 The intellectual changes in favour of Pietism were presented in two religious edicts in 1788. The first restricted freedom of thought by setting new regulations on schools and churches, especially when dealing with religious matters.94 The second, which affected Kant personally, enforced a strict censorship of the intellectual works of university professors that dealt with religious and moral issues.95 Even though his book Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone was published in 1793, it was rejected by the authorities because it contradicted the second edict.96 Kant was accused by the King of ‘misusing his philosophy to distort and disparage many of the cardinal and basic teachings of the Holy Scripture and Christianity’. He replied that his book was philosophical rather than theological, and that he had never intended to attack the Bible or Christianity. Furthermore, he supported the principle of obeying the political ruler of the time, which had been a characteristic of political life in Prussia since Frederick the Great.97 He also promised the authorities that he would not publish anything further on religion during the reign of Frederick William II. As this promise was personal, he published his last book on religion, Conflict of the Faculties, in 1798, one year after the death of Frederick William II and during the reign of Frederick William III (1786–1840).98

Kant’s philosophical insight Kant’s work can be characterized as ‘mobilizing the public towards sociopolitical reforms through a political ideal, or a set of political ideals, based on philosophical insight’, which is the definition of enlightenment in this book. This characterization contributes to the idea that his philosophical project should be considered to be ultimately political – through his idea of freedom. Kant presents his philosophical insight to serve his political ideal. This insight can be divided into his theory of knowledge, in which he puts forward the idea that knowledge arises from the union between reason and senses, and his idea of the origin of the

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moral law, which he argues lies in reason not experience. In both cases, Kant intends to set a solid philosophical basis for his ultimate political aim: freedom.

Kant’s theory of knowledge Investigating Kant’s theory of knowledge, explained mainly in the Critique of Pure Reason, is the first step towards grasping his political thought. This is because this theory is the basis of his accounts of both the role of reason – including its role in moral law – and the main metaphysical issues such as God, freedom and immortality, which have clear moral and political implications. By writing his Critique of Pure Reason, Kant proposes to respond to the intellectual challenges of metaphysics. This involves proving the possibility of synthetic a priori knowledge – which is one of the sources of Kant’s originality – and providing a critical examination of the capacity of reason to obtain knowledge. At the same time, this will reveal the role of experience. Fulfilling these two tasks is crucial for Kant’s attempt to protect the three metaphysical themes from empirical examination. This, in turn, will show the epistemological and metaphysical roots of his political thought. Regarding the first task, even the empiricists before Kant agreed that any analytical knowledge must be a priori. It was also agreed that synthetic a posteriori knowledge is possible. Kant concurs with his predecessors on both counts, but argued that synthetic a priori knowledge is possible and he worked towards proving this. Conventional logic during Kant’s time did not endorse the possibility of synthetic a priori propositions.99 Their being synthetic would make them a subject for empirical disproof, and then would critically diminish the validity of these propositions. This is exactly where the dilemma of metaphysics lies, and why Kant was so eager to prove the possibility of synthetic a priori propositions: in this way he could save metaphysics from empirical disproof. By proving the possibility of synthetic a priori propositions, he could provide solid ground for the moral thought (freedom) which would provide the main theme for some of his other works and re-present metaphysics, along with mathematics and physics, as a theoretical science. He maintains that mathematics and physics are the

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only theoretical sciences that ‘have to determine their objects a priori’,100 purely in the case of mathematics and partially in the case of physics. For Kant, the synthetic prior determination of their objects was a crucial moment that stimulated the confident launch of both mathematics and physics as sciences. Kant believed that a similar determination was urgently needed in metaphysics, which, although older than the rest of the sciences, had ‘not yet had the good fortune to enter upon the secure path of a science’.101 Kant says that the lack of this ‘secure path of science’ has pushed metaphysics to follow two contradictory and misleading trends in dealing with three main issues. The first issue concerns the objects of our knowledge. The dispute is between intellectualists and sensualists. The former assert that understanding, not senses, is entitled to know the truth; the latter argue exactly the reverse.102 The second issue concerns the origin of our knowledge, and the division is between idealists, who believe our knowledge arises from reason, and empiricists, who believe our knowledge arises from experience.103 The third issue concerns the method of obtaining knowledge. First there is the naturalistic method, which believes in what is called ‘sound reason’. Kant appears to show little respect for this method because its adherents think they can ‘determine the size and distance of the moon with greater certainty by the naked eye than by mathematical devices’.104 Secondly, there is the scientific method, which is divided into sceptical and dogmatic methods. Here, Hume is Kant’s representative of the former, and Wolff of the latter.105 Kant’s second aim in writing his Critique of Pure Reason is to provide a critical examination of the capacity of reason in obtaining knowledge, which will at the same time reveal the role of experience. By reason, Kant means ‘the faculty which supplies the principles of a priori knowledge’.106 By pure reason he indicates the reason ‘which contains the principles whereby we know anything absolutely a priori’. Kant argues that the aim of this critical examination of pure reason is not to create new knowledge, but to ‘correct it, and to supply a touchstone of the value, or lack of value, of all a priori knowledge’.107 He insists that there are two main results of this critical evaluation of the capacity of reason. The first is negative. Such a critique will tell us where reason must not go. In particular, it will tell us that reason must not venture beyond the limits of experience.108 On the

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other hand, however, the positive result is that such a critique will remove the obstacles to the practical – moral – use of pure reason.109 In this regard, Kant asks at the beginning of his Critique of Practical Reason: ‘Is pure reason sufficient of itself to determine the will, or is it only as empirically conditioned that it can do so?’110 His answer is that under the condition that freedom, which is the intelligible causality, belongs to the human will, pure reason is sufficient of itself to determine the will. This, according to him, will not only prove the existence of practical reason, but will also show that it is not empirically conditioned. Therefore, if the question ‘How can pure reason know objects a priori?’ is the main concern of the Critique of Pure Reason, the main concern of the Critique of Practical Reason is ‘How can pure reason be a directly determining basis for the will?’111 Kant criticizes the idealists and empiricists who preceded him alike, claiming that they both contribute to undermining metaphysics: the empiricists by denying its possibility and the idealists by exaggerating its validity. Both attitudes lead to a reduction in its credibility. He criticizes the empiricists for their sceptical attitude to the capacity of reason to obtain knowledge. In their turn, the idealists are criticized because of their dogmatic use of reason. This is grounded in their ignorance of the validity of experience and the senses in general in the rise of knowledge. Idealism, therefore, trusts the capability of reason to obtain knowledge. Kant’s main critical point is that this trust is placed without any pre-examination of reason’s ability to perform this function.112 Such a lack of examination, Kant asserts, has led to the dogmatic use of reason, a reason that dominated the German intellectual sphere in that period. Even a brilliant philosopher like Christian Wolff, for whom Kant showed deep respect and whom he believed capable of conducting such an examination, did not realize the necessity of determining the capacities of reason, and fell into dogmatism.113 This had reduced the credibility of metaphysics, and consequently had led to its decline. The empiricists, as well as the idealists, are the subject of Kant’s critique.114 If the latter are criticized because of their dogmatic use of reason, the former are criticized because of their dogmatic use of experience and their sceptical attitude towards the capability of reason. Kant argues that this is problematic for three reasons. The first is because it is against the basic principle of experience itself. For Kant, a priori knowledge is

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the precondition of any experience.115 Experience may tell us the weight, height, intensity or colour of a body, but it never gives us the concept of the body itself. More crucially, the second problem identified by Kant is that it is futile to try to prove, or to disprove, empirically some of the principles that constitute the basic knowledge of common understanding. This includes the principle that ‘every alteration must have a cause’, which Hume attempted to examine empirically.116 For Kant, such an attempt would lose the ‘strict universal’ validity of this principle, which is a characteristic of a priori knowledge only. Empirical knowledge, on the other hand, merely assumes a relative arbitrary universality through induction.117 The third reason is that experience cannot provide solid grounds for approaching the three conventional subjects of metaphysics: God, freedom and immortality. Kant shows that such subjects cannot be empirically examined. He disagrees completely with Locke, who thought that he could prove empirically the existence of God and the immortality of the soul, although both objects are outside the limits of experience.118 This dogmatic empiricism, therefore, undermines the position of metaphysics by denying its possibility and seeking (and failing) to establish truths on an empirical basis when they cannot be established on those grounds. After refuting previous theories, Kant then presents his own. It tries to protect the three metaphysical topics from empirical examination. He says that knowledge is obtained by the union of experience and understanding. The latter is the first element of what Kant calls ‘the higher faculty of knowledge’, which includes also judgement and reason.119 He explains the role of every element of the higher faculty of knowledge by employing an Aristotelian syllogism: In every syllogism I first think a rule (the major premise) through the understanding. Secondly, I subsume something known under the condition of the rule by means of judgment (the minor premise). Finally, what is thereby known I determine through the predicate of the rule, and so a priori through reason (the conclusion).120

Kant defines the understanding as ‘the mind’s power of producing representations from itself, the spontaneity of knowledge’.121 Our intuition, whether pure intuition (the intuition that does not contain sensation) or

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empirical intuition (the intuition that contains sensation), is the mediator between us and objects.122 Kant explains the role of understanding and experience by saying: Experience is, beyond all doubt, the first product to which our understanding gives rise, in working up the raw material of sensible impressions. Experience is therefore our first instruction, and in its progress is so inexhaustible in new information, that in the interconnected lives of all future generations there will never be any lack of new knowledge that can be thus ingathered. Nevertheless, it is by no means the sole field to which our understanding is confined. Experience tells us, indeed, what is, but not that it must necessarily be so, and not otherwise. It therefore gives us no true universality; and reason, which is so insistent upon this kind of knowledge, is therefore more stimulated by it than satisfied. Such universal modes of knowledge, which at the same time possess the character of inner necessity, must in themselves, independently of experience, be clear and certain. They are therefore entitled knowledge a priori; whereas, on the other hand, that which is borrowed solely from experience is, as we say, known only a posteriori, or empirically.123

Without our understanding, therefore, what our intuition receives would not be thought, and by their union knowledge arises. Kant concludes by saying that ‘Thoughts without content are empty, intuitions without concepts are blind.’124 By proving that knowledge is obtained by the union of experience and understanding, Kant achieves the elementary step of saving the three crucial metaphysical topics – God, freedom and immortality – from being deconstructed by experience, which is vital for his political project. Understanding makes objects available to thought by concepts. In addition to this, it constructs a judgement. As the understanding does not relate directly to the objects, it merely has representations of them. The function of the understanding, then, is to bring ‘various representations under one common representation’,125 so this would yield the collection of much knowledge into one representation,126 and would make concepts relate

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indirectly to the objects. Therefore, the function of concepts is to enable the objects to be thought, and to be the means employed in making a judgement. In order to show his account of the role of experience in obtaining knowledge, Kant argues that we obtain a priori knowledge through pure intuition, but such knowledge is merely formal, restricted to the appearance of the objects.127 Through empirical intuition, on the other hand, the objects are represented directly by sensation as actual objects. But empirical intuition is the one that is the perception of objects. That is, the combination of representation and sensation is given to us by way of pure intuition – space and time. For Kant, without such perception there is nothing that our thought might be applied to.128 So, in order to know an object, our pure understanding (and, consequently, concepts) must relate to empirical intuition. According to Kant, this shows the limits of the use of pure understanding and concepts concerning objects.129 Their function in the rise of knowledge is merely related to the possibility of empirical knowledge: that is, experience.130 As Kant has determined the subjectivity of our pure intuition, he puts forward the idea that without empirical knowledge, concepts have no reality. Therefore, empirical knowledge is the only thing that gives them real objective existence.131 However, our pure concepts of understanding do not have the same limits; they can go beyond experience. This, however, would not make them able to determine the possibility of their thought objects, and they would merely be empty forms of thought. Kant concludes by saying that ‘Only our sensible and empirical intuition can give to them body and meaning.’132 If, as Kant holds, our sensible and empirical intuitions can give to the concepts of pure understanding body and meaning, the first gives the latter its possibility. As understanding synthesizes the objects through concepts, this makes experience possible.133 Kant explains: Apart from such synthesis it would not be knowledge, but a rhapsody of perceptions that would not fit into any context according to rules of a completely interconnected (possible) consciousness, and so would not conform to the transcendental and necessary unity of apperception. Experience depends, therefore, upon a priori principles of its form, that is, upon universal rules of unity in the synthesis of appearances.134

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Kant criticizes Locke and Hume for their attitudes to the relationship between the concepts of pure understanding and experience. For him, although Locke realizes the importance of the concepts of pure understanding and experience, he does not realize that they are a precondition of any experience, and attempts to derive them from experience itself.135 This, according to Kant, makes him open the door to enthusiasm, which leads him to go beyond experience in order to obtain knowledge.136 Hume shows more consistency than Locke in this regard. He realizes the role of the concepts of pure understanding for experience and that they are a priori to it.137 However, he does not realize that they are preconditions of experience, and, like Locke, he attempts to derive them from experience. In contrast to Locke, Hume constrains knowledge to experience and never attempts to go beyond it. He is a sceptic regarding the intelligible.138

Reason and the rational origin of three metaphysical ideas The third intellectual faculty for Kant, after the understanding and the judgement,139 is reason. This he describes as our highest faculty.140 Examining the role of reason in obtaining knowledge is crucial in Kant’s thought, as it is the origin of the three metaphysical ideas: God, immortality, and freedom. For him, reason – like understanding – can be used in a logical way, which involves examining the forms of knowledge without its contents, and in a transcendental way, or ‘real use’ as Kant calls it, which refers to reason as a source of particular types of concepts and principles. These relate neither to the understanding or nor to the senses.141 Kant draws a distinction between the function of the understanding and the function of reason. For him, while the understanding is ‘a faculty which secures the unity of appearances by means of rules’, reason is the faculty that secures the unity of the rules of understanding under principles.142 By this distinction, Kant aims to ascribe the metaphysical ideas of God, freedom, and immortality to reason, not to understanding. This will save them from experience. Kant defines principles as the source of apprehending ‘the particular in the universal through concepts’.143 This shows that reason relates not to intuitions, but to concepts and judgements in order to subsume them under principles.144 Reason, for Kant, seeks to find out the universal condition, that

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is the conclusion of the minor premise, the judgement.145 Therefore, as the principles of pure reason are universal, they are logically unconditioned.146 The result of this is that they are always synthetic. Furthermore, they are transcendent147 in their relation to appearances, which means that they cannot be empirically employed.148 This opposes them to the concepts of pure understanding, which must have adequate empirical employment. The universality of knowledge according to the concepts is therefore the function of reason in Kant’s thought.149 By putting forward this function of reason, Kant has taken another crucial step towards saving the ideas of God, freedom, and immortality from experience. This will be crucial for his ultimate political aim.

The practical use of pure practical reason and the origin of moral law The second part of Kant’s philosophical insight, which is one of the elements by which enlightenment will be defined in this book, was his use of pure practical reason and its most important implication: moral law. Kant denies the validity of deriving moral law from experience; it is from the nature of man.150 For him, as moral law has an absolute necessity it must be determined a priori.151 Kant’s conception of moral law is crucial to his political thought, as he will later show that this conception of the moral law and his conception of the law of freedom are identical. Kant states that there are five reasons why metaphysics is important for morality. Here, he seeks to pave the way for his ultimate political aim by protecting the moral law from being exposed to alteration by any sort of empirical experience. The first reason is that it provides the necessary speculative ability for exploring the sources of the a priori practical principles. The second is that it shows moral laws in their purity and genuineness, without being corrupted by common practices. The third is that a priori moral laws provide the guide for these common practices.152 The fourth reason is that there are many examples of moral acts that cannot be empirically shown, such as pure friendship.153 The fifth reason, Kant says, is that deriving moral principles from experience is characterized by a variety of explanations. Some of these explanations, according to him, derive moral principles from the idea of the fear of God, and others do so from

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a particular claim about the nature of man.154 Another explanation would be based on moral feeling, and yet another on the idea of perfection. Kant argues that the result of this is confusion between motives and ends, which eventually causes the vacillation of the mind and a lack of certainty about moral principles.155 However, he asserts that experience has two functions in the domain of morals. The first is that although it does not provide the ground for moral obligation, it does provide the ground for practical rules for applying the moral obligation. The second is that experience plays a crucial role in sharpening the faculty of judgement, which decides which moral law is applicable to which practical case.156 Kant then concludes that metaphysics is highly important for morality. For him, metaphysics provides the morality with the a priori ‘ideal’, which can be the standard for our acts. Kant states: Even the Holy One of the Gospel must be compared with our ideal of moral perfection before He is recognized as such; even He says of himself, ‘Why call ye Me (Whom you see) good? None is good (the archetype of the good) except God only (Whom you do not see).’ But whence do we have the concept of God as the highest good? Solely from the idea of moral perfection which reason formulates a priori and which inseparably connects with a concept of a free will.157

Kant’s critique of the moral theories of his predecessors is based on the previous point. For him, the principles of morality are empirical or rational.158 The empirical principles are those drawn from a conception of happiness on the one hand, or those drawn from a conception of moral or physical feeling on the other.159 Kant criticizes the principles of morality drawn from a principle of happiness for three reasons. The first (a traditional critique) is that as the concept of happiness is an empirical one, it would be incapable of providing the universality and necessity needed for a moral law. The second is that the concept of happiness does not relate to morality: it is about how to make the rational being happy, but not about how to make him good.160 The third and most important critique is that the concept of morality is concerned with the end of the action not with the will, which makes it careless regarding the motive of the action. This leads to the heteronomy of the will.161 Similarly, Kant criticizes the principle of

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morality drawn from moral or physical feeling. For him, it is an artificial concept supported by people who cannot think and always wait for help from feeling.162 Additionally, such a principle cannot define what is good and what is bad from universal standards. However, Kant maintains that this principle is much closer than its predecessors to the concept of morality and dignity because it links satisfaction and honour directly to the moral worth of actions, not to the advantage expected from the action.163 The rational principles of morality can be divided into the ontological conception of perfection and the theological conception of the perfect divine will.164 The former is heavily criticized by Kant for being an empty and indefinite concept that assumes morality without providing sufficient explanation of it. However, Kant believes it is better than the theological principle,165 which derives from a principle of morality based on the perfect divine will. Kant asserts that, as we cannot intuit any concept of the perfection of the divine will, we derive it from our own concept of perfection, and, worse, from a conception of glory and might, which are in contrast to morality itself. He concludes that both the empirical and rational principles of morality lead to the heteronomy of the will. This is achieved by making the imperative conditional on the will of another object outside us, which makes it uncategorical.166 Kant, therefore, argues that the rational and the practical examination of morality must be carefully separated from each other.167 Here, Kant criticizes his predecessors who dealt with this issue by mixing the rational with the practical, and thus caused confusion among the public. Wolff, in particular, receives significant criticism. Although Kant considers that Wolff’s practical treatment of the issue is satisfactory, he believes that his ignorance of the a priori part of morality yields the denial of the ‘pure will’. According to Kant, Wolff’s attempt is chiefly concerned with the conditions of human violations of moral laws, not with their sources.168 The latter is Kant’s concern in the Foundations of the Metaphysics of Morals.

Identifying the moral law with the law of freedom Kant now turns to showing that the moral law and the law of freedom are identical, a crucial step in paving the way for his political thought. An examination of the relationship between reason and the will is a good

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starting point to show this. For Kant, the will is the capacity to act according to law.169 But, as reason is the faculty of deriving actions from law, the will can also be defined as the ‘practical law’. Moreover, Kant explains, if reason determines the will in the right way, the subjective principle of volition (the maxim) will always be the same as the objective principle of volition (the universal law). This is exclusively the moral law of the perfect rational being, which Kant calls the ‘law of holiness’. It involves the ‘holiness of the will’. He defines this latter term as the incapability of ‘any maxim which could not at the same time be objectively a law’.170 For him, this concept is an ideal that rational beings must seek to reach, although they will not be able to do so. In contrast, if the reason’s determination to the will is not rightly conducted, the coincidence between the subjective principles of volition and the objective ones will be contingent.171 Kant believes that the latter is the normal case for man, and this is why the human will in it needs to be constrained by the command of reason.172 He calls this constraint by command of reason ‘imperative’.173 Here, he distinguishes between this kind of constraint and command by reason, and the constraint and commands by inclination and desire. For him, the first has an objective ground that guarantees it universality. The second has a subjective ground through sensation, which affects particular people not as a principle but contingently.174 Therefore, if the moral law of the perfect rational being is the law of holiness, the moral law of the finite rational being is the law of duty.175 Kant presents the problematical hypothetical, assertorical hypothetical and categorical imperatives.176 The question of the possibility of the law of morality – the categorical imperative – is the most important one.177 Kant argues that this type of imperative cannot be determined by experience.178 The reason is that experience is not capable of exploring whether the basis of an action is the moral law or a particular inclination. Taking into account his theory of knowledge, Kant therefore concludes that the categorical imperative must be determined a priori. Kant shows that there is only one categorical imperative: ‘Act only according to that maxim by which you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law.’ From this law, Kant derives what he calls ‘the universal imperative of duty’, which is ‘Act as though the maxim of your action were by your will to become a universal law of nature.’179 Kant shows that deriving the concept of duty from human nature is a mistaken attempt,

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because the latter would merely give us subjective maxims, not universally necessary laws of morality.180 The question that is raised here is how is a categorical imperative possible? In order to answer this, Kant uses his idea of the dual nature of man. For him, the idea of freedom makes a rational being belong to the world of the intelligible.181 This means that all his actions ‘would always’ be according to the autonomy of the will. However, because these finite rational beings belong simultaneously to the world of senses, his actions would not always be according to the autonomy of the will, and his will becomes sensuously affected.182 As the categorical imperative is an a priori synthetic proposition, it will represent what Kant calls the supreme condition of the will in the world of senses.183 The latter will represent the categorical ought, to conform with the actions to the autonomy of the will.184 As Kant explained earlier, all rational beings ought to act according to the moral law. Free will, then, must be presupposed for all rational beings.185 Here, exactly, is where the identification between the moral law and the law of freedom starts. Kant presents rational beings as a reason for having intelligible causality, which makes them regard themselves as the independent authors of their principles. In other words, they must regard themselves as free. Kant states: We have finally reduced the definite concept of morality to the idea of freedom, but we could not prove freedom to be real in ourselves and in human nature. We only saw that we must presuppose it if we would think of a being as rational and conscious of his causality with respect to actions, that is, as endowed with a will; and so we find that on the very same grounds we must ascribe to each being endowed with reason and will the property of determining himself to action under the idea of freedom.186

Kant presents the negative and positive concepts of freedom. The negative concept is that freedom is the property of the will as a kind of causality, which makes the latter independently effective from other causes.187 In this regard, freedom plays a similar role to that of natural necessity, as the property of the causality of irrational beings.188 He states: The concept of autonomy is inseparably connected with the idea of freedom, and with the latter there is insepa-

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rably bound the universal principle of morality, which ideally is the ground of all actions of rational beings, just as natural law is the ground of all appearances.189

The positive concept of freedom is, according to Kant, more fruitful.190 It refers to freedom as the property of the will to be the law of itself. Free will would follow both the categorical imperative and the principle of morality. Therefore, the free will and the will under the moral law are the same thing.191 By identifying the free will with the moral law, Kant has achieved the second crucial step – after his theory of knowledge – in establishing his solid philosophical insight in order to pave the way for his ultimate political aim. It only remains to explore how his epistemological and moral theories work together towards this end.

The transcendental dialectic of pure reason and the postulates of the moral law Kant’s aim in discussing the three types of transcendental dialectic of pure reason is to show that they cannot be proved, nor disproved, by pure speculative reason. Rather, for him, they can only be proved by pure practical reason through the postulates of the moral law: freedom, immortality and the existence of God. This superiority of pure practical reason over pure speculative reason in Kant’s thought represents the peak of his attempt to save the traditional metaphysical themes from being deconstructed by empirical investigation. It therefore represents the peak of his philosophical insight. More significantly, by crowning pure practical reason as supreme, Kant reveals the ultimately political aim of his philosophical system, which is crucial to the definition of enlightenment adopted in this book. The transcendental dialectic of pure reason is the inevitable result of a transcendental idea that has no concept of it.192 Kant explains: The transcendental (subjective) reality of the pure concepts of reason depends on our having been led to such ideas by a necessary syllogism. There will therefore be syllogisms which contain no empirical premises, and by means of which we conclude from something we know to something else of which we have no concept, and to which, owing to an inevitable illusion, we yet ascribe objective reality.193

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The transcendental dialectic of pure reason is therefore related to what Kant calls the fate of human reason, which is burdened by questions that cannot be ignored, and, at the same time, cannot be answered.194 It originates from the very nature of reason, causing unsolved contradictions. The only way to discover it is by a transcendental critique of pure reason.195 Kant shows that there are three types of transcendental dialectic; each relates exclusively to one of the transcendental ideas.196 The first is the paralogism of pure reason, which relates to the self. The second is the antinomy of pure reason, which relates to the series of conditions of appearance. The third is the ideal of pure reason, which relates to the condition of all objects of thought in general. Kant now turns to show in detail that pure speculative reason cannot prove, nor disprove, any of these three types of transcendental dialectic. Following his detailed argument is important because it shows how his theory of knowledge is employed to serve the superiority of pure practical reason over speculative pure reason and this indicates the ultimately political aim of his thought. Regarding the paralogism of pure reason, Kant deals with the possibility of a ‘rational psychology’, and whether we can know anything about the soul.197 Concerning the first, Kant denies the possibility of rational psychology, as it claims that it relates to its object without intuition.198 For him, no object can be known without a given intuition, which asserts merely the possibility of ‘empirical psychology’.199 With regard to the second issue, Kant denies the possibility of any sufficient knowledge of our soul. For him, any materialist method would not teach us this matter, as it is restricted to our physical existence in a limited given time.200 So, it would not answer the question on the immortality of the soul. Similarly, the spiritualist method lacks the inner intuition that connects pure concepts with objects. Therefore, Kant’s solution to the paralogism of pure reason is that psychology is a science that must be based on empirical grounds. Furthermore, knowing anything about the soul through pure speculative reason is impossible, as it cannot be empirically examined. The second type of transcendental dialectic is the antinomy of pure reason, which refers to the conflict between a dogmatic set of knowledge and its opposite in a dialectical form. Kant calls the first dogmatic set ‘thetic’, and the latter ‘antithetic’. He defines the antithetic of pure reason as ‘the conflict of the doctrines of seemingly dogmatic knowledge (thesis cum antithesi) in which no one assertion can establish superiority over another’.201 Kant

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determines four issues where the antinomy of pure reason arises: whether the world has a beginning in time and whether it is limited in space; whether every composite substance in the world is made up of simple parts; whether man is free to act or whether, like any other being, he falls under the law of causality and nature; and whether there is, in the world or outside, a necessary being that works as the supreme cause of the world. Kant says that the answers to these questions have been historically and coherently provided by two competing groups: the dogmatists and the empiricists. The dogmatist method of dealing with these issues is based on intelligible concepts and ideas, followed by empirical explanation.202 In their answers to these questions, the dogmatists hold that the world has a beginning in time and is restricted in space. All existing things are composed of small parts. Man is free to act, and, together with the law of nature, his freedom is another source of causality. Finally, such a necessary being exists as a part of the world, or outside it as its supreme cause. The empirical method is less complex than the dogmatic method. It is fully based on empirical explanation, even in dealing with transcendent issues.203 The empiricists maintain that the world has no beginning in time and it is not restricted in space. Nothing simple exists in the world. Man is not free to act, but is merely an object of the law of nature. No such necessary being exists as his supreme cause, either in the world or outside it. After presenting both arguments, Kant evaluates them. He does not hide that he sympathizes more with the dogmatists, simply because of the moral validity of their epistemologies. This is an indication that his real philosophical concern is moral, not epistemological. Kant claims that the dogmatic view presents existence as clearly purposive and rationally connected. This gives a certain practical use to its account of the disputed issues, especially in the domains of morality and religion. However, as it does not present existence as purposive and rational, the empiricists’ view leads to the meaninglessness of morality and religion. This shows that the practical aspects of Kant’s philosophy, represented in morality and religion, are the real concern behind his epistemological and metaphysical works. This prevents the practical use of its view. However, Kant shows a more balanced point of view regarding the speculative validity of both groups. He demonstrates that the dogmatic view is advantaged by recognizing the validity of synthetic a priori knowledge, a concept the empiricist

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view ignores.204 By contrast, the empiricists employ the advantage of keeping the understanding within the limits of experience, and no knowledge will be approved unless it has been empirically tested.205 Kant shows that it has ‘frequently happened’ that empiricism turns to ‘dogmatic empiricism’ when it extends its empirical instrument into transcendental issues.206 After this evaluation of previous attempts to solve the dialectical conflict, Kant presents his own account of the antinomy of pure reason. He begins by introducing his concept of transcendental idealism. For him, this means that everything intuited in space and time (pure intuition) is merely representation and has no independence from our thought.207 The only way that things become independent from our thought, and real in themselves, is when they are empirically tested. The first step in Kant’s attempts to solve the dilemma of pure reason is to discover the possibility of the empirical examination of the four questions. The regulative principle of pure reason is a central idea in Kant’s attempts to answer the previous questions, and to solve the dilemma of pure reason. The regulative principle of pure reason refers to the ‘principle of the greatest possible continuation of and extension of experience, allowing no empirical limit to hold as absolute’.208 Therefore, the regulative principle of pure reason is the instrument that makes an empirical regressive possible. By introducing such a concept, Kant changes the function of reason regarding the previous questions from being constitutive and dialectical (as was the case with dogmatism) and from being a principle of experience (as was the situation with empiricism). He tries to expand a priori knowledge apart from experience. He also aims at expanding the sphere of experience without restrictions, to be doctrinal and regulative.209 All four issues are fully represented transcendentally as concepts (transcendental idealism). Now is the time for the regulative principle of reason to discover the possibility of them as empirical intuitions. This will lead to discovering the possibility of applying experience to them. By the union of already available concepts and potential empirical knowledge, knowledge arises. The criterion for the regulative principle of pure reason is that of whether the whole of the object is given in the empirical intuition or not.210 He explains: when the whole is given in empirical intuition, the regress in the series of its inner conditions proceeds

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in infinitum; but when a member only of the series is given, starting from which the regress has to proceed to absolute totality, the regress is only of indeterminate character (in indefinitum).211

What Kant suggests here regarding the four issues is that they should be treated in the same way as the claim that ‘there are inhabitants in the moon’, a claim that has not been empirically proved, but might yet be empirically proved by the continued advancement in empirical instruments. Kant asserts that a representation of an object given to us does not tell us about the series of conditions and causes that constitute it.212 This means that the number of parts in a given representation is not itself finite or infinite, and, consequently, we cannot decide whether this object as a whole is finite or infinite. The only way to make this decision, Kant explains, is by a dynamic, synthetic, and empirical regress.213 This would enable us to meet all the conditions and causes that have constituted a given object. Then, it would make all its parts given to us. Consequently, the object would be valid for empirical examination. Kant moves on to apply his method to the previous four issues. Regarding the first, whether the world has a beginning in time and is restricted in space, he says that the whole world is given in a concept, but it is not given in an empirical intuition.214 This means that the empirical regressive would be limited according to the given empirical intuition only, and in this case only a part of the whole world is given to us. This enables us to extend the regressive in indefinitum, but not in infinitum. As the regressive is in indefinitum, we cannot say the world is infinite. The regulative principle of pure reason, however, would not enable us to conclude that the world is finite, as it determines that there are absolute limits for empirical tests.215 Kant, then, provides his answer to the first issue: the world has no beginning in time, nor is it restricted in space.216 The situation is different regarding the second issue, that of whether everything is made up of simple parts or not. As empirical intuition is wholly given to us, the empirical regressive can be in infinitum. 217 This means that the process of the decomposition of a given body can be conducted infinitely.218 Kant turns to a discussion of the third issue, that of the possibility of the free will of man existing side by side with the law of nature. He distinguishes

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between the causality according to nature, which refers to ‘the connection in the sensible world of one state with a preceding state on which it follows according to a rule’, and the causality arising from freedom, which refers to ‘the power of beginning a state spontaneously’.219 According to this definition, the latter is a purely transcendental kind of causality. This is because it is the source of a series of causes under the law of nature determining them in time, and because its objects cannot be given in any experience. As far as freedom is concerned, Kant shows that the practical concept is based on transcendental freedom. He defines the first as ‘the will’s independence of coercion through sensuous impulses’.220 He then distinguishes between sensuous will, which refers to the will affected partly by pathological effects and animal will, which refers to the will affected completely by pathological effects.221 As humans have the power to repress their sensuous impulses, their will assuredly belongs to the first kind. The question that Kant is interested in addressing here is whether it is ‘possible to regard one and the same event as being in one aspect merely an effect of nature and in another aspect an effect due to freedom’.222 Kant shows that man as an efficient cause has two characters: empirical and intelligible.223 The first refers to the actions that are in connection with appearances according to the law of nature; the second refers to the actions that are in connection with appearances, but are not themselves appearances and do not fit the conditions of sensibility.224 This is the result of another distinction made by Kant: between intelligible causality, which is the causality of ‘a thing in itself’, and sensible causality, which is the causality of ‘an appearance in the world of sense, it is sensible in its effects’.225 For Kant, since man is part of the sensible world, he falls under the law of nature, which confirms his empirical character. At the same time, intelligible causality is indicated by the moral obligations that impose their rules on our actions, and consequently prove the intelligible character of man.226 Kant asserts that moral obligations are grounded in mere concepts; nature does not create the human will, although it does determine its effects and consequences.227 Furthermore, moral obligations are not subordinate to time, as pure reason itself is an intelligible faculty, meaning that moral obligations arise apart from time and do not recognize succession in it.228 So, reason is not part of any chain of natural causality, which makes its actions absolutely free. This freedom can be defined negatively as being independent from the law of

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nature, but it can also be defined positively as ‘the power of originating a series of events’.229 Although these are pure concepts originated by reason, the effect of their actions must be in nature.230 Kant’s solution to the third antinomy is therefore that man is intelligibly free to act (which means that dealing with this topic is beyond the ability of pure speculative reason), although, as a physical object, he is a subject of natural causality. Kant then turns to the fourth issue: the existence of the necessary being within the world or outside it as its supreme cause. He explains that the regulative principle of pure reason asserts that the existence of anything within the world must be empirical.231 This implies that such existence, as long as it is within the world, is inevitably under the laws of nature. According to Kant, this denies the possibility of the existence of a necessary being within the world, as his existence would be conditioned by the empirical series of causality.232 Consequently, Kant asserts that the existence of the necessary being must be thought of as outside the empirical world. Furthermore, the necessary being must be thought of as having an intelligible causality, indicating his absolute freedom to originate actions. This is in addition to indicating the inability of pure speculative reason to deal with this topic.233 Thus, Kant says, the possibility of the intelligible causality of the necessary being would not contradict the empirical causality of the world. This is because the regulative principle of pure reason employs intelligible causality regarding the ends – although this is not included in the empirical series – and as the transcendental origin of the empirical causality itself. The third transcendental dialectic is what Kant calls the ideal of pure reason. Kant defines the term ‘ideal’ as ‘the idea, not merely in concreto, but in individuo, that is, as an individual thing, determinable or even determined by the idea alone’.234 He explains that ideals have a regulative power in the domain of practical reason, and as the standard of the possible perfection of some particular actions.235 Moral concepts, Kant argues, are not exactly pure concepts of reason, as the first relate to something empirical such as pleasure or displeasure. He states: Virtue, and therewith human wisdom in its complete purity, are ideas. The wise man (of the Stoics) is, however, an ideal, that is, a man existing in thought only, but in complete conformity with the idea of wisdom. As the idea gives the rule, so the ideal in such a case serves as the

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So, Kant asserts that the concept of an absolutely necessary being is a concept of pure reason, needed by humans in order to lead them towards perfection.237 Here, he gives the idea of God merely a moral significance: it is the motive, he argues, that makes us assume that such a supreme being exists.238 This is because the idea of the existence of a supreme being finds its validity mainly in giving meaning and influence to practical (moral) laws, not natural ones.239 This confirms the superiority of pure practical reason over pure speculative reason in Kant’s thought. If the ideal of the supreme being finds its validity in the practical employment of reason, such an idea is impossible to prove empirically.240 This is because, as Kant explains earlier, the idea of the existence of a necessary being within the world would make him fall under the law of natural causality. So, the necessary being must be thought of as outside the world, as the intelligible (transcendental) originator of the actions. However, the empirical series of causality can still be thought and observed apart from intelligible causality. In turn, this makes the idea of the necessary being less appealing in the natural domain than in the practical one, as will be shown later.241 Kant shows that the exclusive common proofs for the existence of God are ontological, cosmological and physico-theological. He rejects all three, with the intention of demonstrating that the idea of God cannot be proved, nor disproved by speculative practical reason, although he treats physico-theological proof with respect.242 He explains that the main outline of the physico-theological proof advanced by Averroes (see Chapter 2) is as follows: in the world there are clear signs of firm order for a particular purpose. This purposive order is not the result of components of the world, as they do not have the ability to work in accordance with each other to fulfil a purpose. This means that such a purposive order is the result of a higher creative, wise and intelligent cause, or causes. The creativity, wisdom, and intelligence of the cause, or causes, show that it operates through freedom, not merely through an automatic empirical series of causalities.

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The unity of the purposive order of the world shows that this higher cause is one.243 Kant explains that the physico-theological proof ‘always deserves to be mentioned with respect. It is the oldest, the clearest, and the most accordant with the common reason of mankind.’244 For him, this proof has a reciprocal relation to nature: it gains its validity from nature, as well as providing a solid ground for studying it by enlightening us with the hidden link that connects all the elements of nature, which we cannot provide through experience alone. The physico-theological proof, however, is not sufficient to prove that there is a creator of the world.245 This is because it does not deal with the substance of the existing things in it, but merely with their forms. Kant holds that this proof merely shows that there is an architect, not a creator, of the world.246 Therefore, even this proof lacks the necessary materials to prove the existence of God, and it is, in essence, merely another ontological proof.247 This shows that the objective reality of the necessary being cannot be proved by reason, but it also shows that it cannot be disproved. Therefore, the idea of the necessary being for pure reason ‘remains a mere ideal, it is yet an ideal without a flaw, a concept which completes and crowns the whole of human knowledge’.248 The question that is raised here is that, as long as the existence of God cannot be proven by the speculative employment of reason, on what rational ground does the idea of God base its objective validity? Kant answers by asserting that the objective validity of the idea of God is found as the ultimate end of pure reason.

Freedom as the cornerstone of Kant’s philosophical system Kant says that we do not understand these transcendental ideas from a theoretical perspective, although that may be possible in the future under the regulative principle of reason.249 But, as we need these ideas in the practical domain, it is sufficient for this purpose to presuppose their existence and to show that they do not have any sort of internal inconsistency. By doing so, he explains, these ideas are transferred from being subjectively necessary in the speculative employment of reason, to being objectively necessary through the practical employment of reason.250 Here is Kant’s key idea, which shows the ultimately political aim of his philosophy. He defines the postulate of pure practical reason as ‘a theoretical proposition which

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is not as such demonstrable, but which is an inseparable corollary of an a priori unconditionally valid practical law’.251 He also names the postulate of immortality, the postulate of freedom and the postulate of the existence of God. The postulate of immortality ‘derives from the practically necessary condition of a duration adequate to the perfect fulfilment of the moral law’; the postulate of freedom ‘comes from the necessary presupposition of independence from the world of sense and of the capacity of determining man’s will by the law of an intelligible world’; and the postulate of the existence of God ‘arises from the necessary condition of such an intelligible world by which it may be the highest good, through the presupposition of the highest independent good’.252 Thus, these three postulates are ideas of pure reason: they do not relate to the world of sense via intuition.253 However, they have their objective reality, and this is through practical reason.254 These three postulates solve the paralogisms, the antinomy and the ideal of pure speculative reason: the postulate of immortality solves the paralogisms of pure speculative reason regarding the soul, which the psychological account never reaches; the postulate of freedom solves the antinomy of pure speculative reason regarding the cosmology of existence, by the awareness of the world of the intelligible; the postulate of the existence of God solves the problem of pure speculative reason, which does not determine whether God exists or not.255 Therefore, a critique of practical reason, Kant argues, provides proof and objective reality to the supersensible objects, although this does not mean extending our knowledge of them.256 Kant believes that the idea of freedom is distinguished from the ideas of God and immortality by being the only condition of the moral law. This is what makes it stable and legitimate, and gives it objective reality.257 Kant, here, seems to reach the peak of his philosophical insight leading towards his political ideal, as well as the ultimate aim of his philosophy. He explains that the other two ideas obtain their stability, legitimacy and objective reality by being connected to the idea of freedom. Furthermore, this last concept is the only one which is known a priori, as it is the condition of the moral law. By contrast, the other two are known a priori by being the conditions of the ‘necessary object of a will which is determined by this law’.258 Kant then concludes by asserting that the concept of freedom is the ‘keystone of the whole architecture of the system of pure reason, even of speculative reason’.259

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Freedom, then, is the touchstone of Kant’s metaphysics, epistemology and ethics around which all else is based. Having saved freedom from being deconstructed by empirical researches in his epistemology, Kant presents a theory of the rational origin of the law of freedom, which he discusses as the moral law. This elevation of rationality and veneration of his own idea of freedom is both an inspiring vision and a solid philosophical basis on which to base his political ideal of freedom in those works that deal more explicitly with society, government and politics. It is Kant’s account of the relationship between reason and revelation and the political implications of that relationship that links Kant’s epistemology and morality with the wider dimensions of Enlightenment thought.

Moral religion and Kant’s theory of interpretation Once again we return to the relationship between reason and revelation, between rationality and revealed truth, and between logic and blind faith. Why is this philosophical issue, and Kant’s account of it, so crucial for grasping his position and that of Averroes as thinkers of Enlightenment or enlightenment? Firstly, contemporary Arab thought presents the question of the relationship between reason and revelation as the key to modernity; such a distinction is partly based on the account of that relationship given by prototypical Enlightenment figures such as Kant. If Kant’s answer to the question of revelation versus reason is examined and established to be similar in essentials to that of Averroes, that conclusion represents a crucial step in determining whether or not Averroes was an early advocate of an Arab-Islamic enlightenment. Secondly, the definition of enlightenment used in this book is primarily drawn from Kant’s account of the relationship between reason and revelation: ‘mobilizing the public towards sociopolitical reforms through a political ideal based on philosophical insight’. Furthermore, the account mentioned earlier is one of the primary sources in which Kant employs his political ideal, that of freedom, as well as forming part of Kant’s public project of sociopolitical reforms. Both aspects are key to elucidating Kant’s political thought as an Enlightenment thinker and as a suitable figure to compare with Averroes. Thirdly, as Kant himself noted, Leibniz and Wolff’s attempt to restore metaphysics to a scientific position with a logical grounding was defeated by a concerted attack from

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influential pietistic circles within Prussia, and Kant was faced with the prospect of a similar defeat. 260 His response was to launch a religious reform of his own, and his account of the relationship between reason and revelation was the opening salvo. It is central, therefore, to grasping Kant’s ultimate political aim. In discussing the relationship between reason and revelation, Kant gives reason a religious meaning, describing it as ‘pure religious faith’, which is equivalent to natural religion and rational faith. His concept of ecclesiastical faith represents his formula for the relationship between reason and revelation as a progression towards the ideal of pure religious faith (reason alone) departing from the pseudo-service (revelation and tradition). The word ‘religion’ in Kant’s terminology is not always used to refer to the same thing; apart from its literal meaning, he uses this word as synonymous with the words ‘reason’ and ‘moral law’. In other words, Kant uses ‘religion’ to refer to understanding religious rites and revelation in a rational (moral) way. This is at the core of his account of the relationship between revelation and reason. As the moral law and the law of freedom are the same thing in Kant’s thought, he conceives of the moral religion as being based on the idea of freedom, showing the centrality of his political ideas to his philosophical system. Kant makes a distinction between two types of religion. The first is mere worship religion, which is characterized by rites and by believing that God can make people happy without their being morally good, or by the belief that God can make them morally good without their need to follow particular rules of conduct. In contrast, moral religion is the ‘good life-conduct religion’. It relies on the believers doing what they can in order to become morally good. Doing so is the only hope of becoming happy.261 Kant’s distinction between mere worship religion and moral religion correlates with his conception of the ‘saving faith’. For him, it encompasses the elements of faith in atonement, which means refraining from committing sins, and faith in becoming well-pleasing to God, which means improving our moral disposition.262 He then asks a crucial question: does faith in the Son of God lead us to conduct a good life or vice versa?263 He explains that if we start by believing in the Son of God, then good conduct in life is not a necessary result of the deduction.264 This is because in this case the faith in the Son of God will be merely empirical and would

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not mean anything moral.265 However, if we start our belief from good conduct in life, the result of the deduction will be faith in the Son of God, as the cornerstone of humanity and an example sent to us.266 Therefore, Kant says that we must establish our religious faith by conducting a good life as a practical starting point. He admits that faith in the Son of God – not in the practical but in the theoretical sense – is valid, as a vicarious faith involves the idea of human salvation and provides the end of good conduct in life.267 Kant explains that a service under the good principle (that is, true service) is not an ecclesiastical service, as all the members of the invisible church receive the divine revelation through their reason; they are servants, but not officials.268 Pseudo-service, on the other hand, is the exact reverse. Here, morality through reason is conditioned by historical faith through revelation; the latter has supremacy.269 He presents pseudo-service as the result of ‘religious illusion’. For Kant, the latter is a statutory faith (which, in any case, is restricted to one people and cannot comprise the universal world-religion) […] essential to the service of God generally, and to make it the highest condition of the divine approval of man.270

Therefore, pseudo-service occurs in the case of ‘pretended honouring of God through which we work directly counter to the service demanded by God himself ’.271 Services and rites are compulsory, and they are presented as the only way of salvation. In this case, the church has officials not servants, and it then becomes the vehicle for some members of the community to dominate others.272 Kant asserts that true Enlightenment is the awareness of this distinction between true-service and pseudoservice.273 Similarly, Kant criticizes clericalism as the state when statutory laws, rather than morality, dominate the church.274 All men who are not clergy are considered laity, including the rulers of states.275 The result of this is that the church rules the state not by coercive laws, but by its influence on its followers. Kant says that this shows the influence of the clergy, even in the domain of civil duties. He explains that the role of the clergyman is not to compel the layman to believe in something uncertain.276 The result of this, he states, will be a ‘violation of conscience’ by claiming that something is certain, and therefore we must believe in it, although we know it is not so.277 Kant defines conscience as the ‘moral

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faculty of judgment, passing judgment upon itself ’.278 It is reason judging itself, and its violation leads to hypocrisy.279 To give a practical example of what he means Kant puts forward that Judaism, in its original version, is not a religion.280 Lacking a conception of moral religion – that is, a religion that is based on the law of freedom – Judaism is merely a cluster of statutory laws that are necessary to establish a political organization. It therefore has no contribution to make to the history of ecclesiastical faith, except in the sense that historically it precedes Christianity. Kant explains why he believes that Judaism is merely a political organization, not a religion. Firstly, its statutory laws are coercive, corresponding only to the external act and having nothing to do with the inner disposition of the believers. This shows that it lacks the necessary characteristics of the moral (divine) commands. Secondly, Judaism lacks a belief in future life, and thus makes the idea of the highest good meaningless.281 Thirdly, it lacks the principle of universality, as it excludes from its community nearly the whole of mankind. This is because it is based on the belief that its followers are special people chosen by God.282 Therefore, Kant asserts, the history of ecclesiastical faith does not start with Judaism but with Christianity, and the latter is not a continuation of the former.283 By the advent of Christianity, however, Kant states, Judaism had already been influenced by the moral thought of Greek philosophy.284 In this way, Kant denies that Christianity is a continuation of Judaism. He refers this misconception to the early founders of Christian communities, for reasons valid in their own time. They interwove Jewish history with Christian doctrines in a way that made the former seem to be holy and part of Christianity itself.285 The idea that Christianity is a continuation of Judaism can be traced to this time and also restricted to it.286 Kant believes that the answer to the question ‘How does God wish to be honoured?’ must be universal and valid to all men.287 Such an answer cannot be provided by revelation, as it is contingent, historical and restricted in space and time. For Kant, then, a church, as an ethical commonwealth, cannot be described as the ‘true church’ unless the historical faith in it is attached to pure religion,288 which is an equivalent to reason, the moral law and the law of freedom. Although Kant points out that the universality of the church cannot be acquired without a pure rational faith, the weakness of human nature leads men neither to rely on reason alone, nor to admit that

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a moral life and the fulfilment of one’s duty towards another is in the direct service of God.289 Therefore, as men insist on offering rites and services to God, this prevents the establishment of the universal church on reason alone. Instead of believing in pure moral religion, of which they become conscious through reason, they believe in statutory religion, in which they become conscious through written revelation and tradition.290 Moreover, he says that as a church is a union of men, it therefore needs a ‘public covenant’.291 However, such a covenant is not a priori, but contingent and manifold, and therefore a matter of experience and subject to changes and improvement.292 Because of the weakness of human nature, and the fact that any church needs a public covenant, Kant, then, has to accept the validity of historical faith. He suggests that a church’s laws may become divine if they are in harmony with moral religion, but this cannot be achieved without gradual progress towards it.293 So, a church is described as a ‘militant church’ when it is progressing towards being true and divine.294 How, then, can historical/empirical faith be reconciled and brought into harmony with moral/rational faith? This is where Kant’s theory of interpretation comes in. He insists that the historical/empirical faith must be interpreted in a way that brings it into agreement with the universal practical rules of the religion of pure reason. He states: For the theoretical part of ecclesiastical faith cannot interest us morally if it does not conduce to the performance of all human duties as divine commands (that which constitutes the essence of all religion). Frequently this interpretation may, in the light of the texts (of the revelation), appear forced – it may often really be forced; and yet if the text can possibly support it, it must be preferred to a literal interpretation which either contains nothing at all [helpful] to morality or else actually works counter to moral incentives.295

Here, Kant was clear in his disagreement with the literal interpretation of the revealed texts, as well as in showing that there is no way of harmonizing revelation with reason without a forced interpretation as the only way of removing any contradiction between them.296 Furthermore, he argues that until the arrival of Judaism this forced interpretation was common between

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the establishments of the Greek, Roman and Indian faiths, Christianity and Islam.297 As the predisposition towards good is a priori in human reason, Kant explains, it has been manifested through the forced interpretation that all faiths have experienced.298 Such an interpretation is based on the assumption that all the books that are considered holy aim at prompting the moral disposition of their followers. The role of scriptural scholarship is to maintain the authenticity of faith by maintaining the revealed texts, and, at the same time, improving the moral disposition of men through reason.299 Kant sets up the relationship between reason and revelation and the role of the holy texts as follows: Since, then, it remains true once for all that a statutory ecclesiastical faith is associated with pure religious faith as its vehicle and as the means of public union of men for its promotion, one must grant that the preservation of pure religious faith unchanged, its propagation in the same form everywhere, and even a respect for the revelation assumed therein, can hardly be provided for adequately through tradition, but only through scripture; which, again, as a revelation to contemporaries and posterity, must itself be an object of esteem, for the necessities of men require this in order that they may be sure of their duty in holy divine service. A holy book arouses the greatest respect even among those (indeed, most of all among those) who do not read it, or at least those who can form no coherent religious concept therefrom; and the most sophistical reasoning avails nothing in the face of the decisive assertion, which beats down every objection: Thus it is written.300

Therefore, Kant concludes, by asserting that scripture is the ‘norm’ of ecclesiastical faith, reason and scriptural scholarship are the interpreters.301 Kant turns next to showing how to deal with revelation. He proposes that it is possible that in their practical content the revealed texts include a divine revelation.302 Kant explains that as such a revelation is ‘already at hand’, and as another new divine revealed text is not expected, it is then ‘reasonable’ to use it as the basis for ecclesiastical faith, and as an

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instrument to unite mankind into one religion.303 Therefore, we should not expose the scriptures to a severe attack that would lead to diminishing their importance and reducing their credibility. At the same time, we should not compel anybody to believe in them. In addition, the narratives that are mentioned in the scriptures, and which do not relate directly to morality, will be interpreted in ways that help to improve the moral disposition of men. The duty of political rulers regarding this is not to stop such an interpretation from becoming public. If they do so, Kant explains, this would be a violation of freedom and an obstacle to the existence of good citizens.304 Kant then progresses to a comparison of the Greek and the Christian schools of morality. Such a comparison shows how Kant employs the idea of God instrumentally in order to serve his ultimately political aim: the law of freedom. For him, the Greeks failed to solve the problem of the practical possibility of the highest good because of the lack of the idea of God in their thoughts.305 On the other hand, Christian ethics met the demand of pure practical reason through the concept of the ‘kingdom of God’, which brings nature in harmony with morality through an Author of existence.306 Kant shows the peak of the agreement of his own moral theory and the Christian doctrines of morality by saying: the Christian principle of morality is not theological and thus heteronymous, being rather the autonomy of pure practical reason itself, because it does make the knowledge of God and His will the basis of these laws; but makes such knowledge the basis only of succeeding to the highest good on condition of obedience to these laws; it places the real incentive to obedience to the laws not in the desired consequences of obedience but in the conception of duty alone, in true observance of which the worthiness to attain the latter alone consists.307

Moreover, he asserts that the moral doctrine of the Gospel is pure and at the same time suitable for human limits and capabilities. This gives Christians superiority over the moral fantasists such as the Stoics.308 He asserts that the principles of happiness and morality must be distinguished from each other, although this does not mean that they contradict each other.

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This is because happiness might be the necessary means of achieving duty, and its absence might be the reason for not achieving duty. But happiness is not a direct duty in itself.309 Kant, therefore, believes that what humans ought to do is recognize ‘all duties as divine commands, not as sanctions, i.e., arbitrary and contingent ordnances of a foreign will, but as essential laws of any free will as such’.310 This is, exactly, Kant’s definition of religion. So, by complying with the commands of religion, which is in Kant’s terminology the law of freedom, we will be worthy to be happy, and this is the end intended for God’s creation. In addition, because man is the subject of the holy moral law, humanity in itself is also holy, and must not be used as a means for anyone else, even for God Himself.311 In this way, the practical problem of the completeness of morality can be solved by the immortality of the soul, and the practical problem of happiness can be solved by presupposing the existence of God.312 Kant’s account of the relationship between reason and revelation is characterized by two main features. The first is that Kant, unlike Averroes, situates reason, clearly and with no doubt, in a superior position to revelation. This is shown through his conception of the moral (rational) religion as the true religion, and his conceptions of the pseudo-service – religion based only on revelation and tradition – as religious illusion. This is shown through his theory of interpretation, as he calls to remove any contradiction between reason (morality) and revelation by a forced interpretation of the latter. The second is that as the words ‘reason’ and ‘the law of freedom’ are synonymous in Kant’s terminology, the latter is the criterion for interpreting revelation. Consequently, this central position of freedom as a political conception shows the central position of freedom as a political ideal in Kant’s thought. This proves the ultimate political aim of his whole philosophical enquiry, which is a crucial element in the definition of enlightenment.

Kant’s political thought It is essential to undertake a close examination of Kant’s political thought. Firstly, such an analysis will reveal the role that the idea of freedom, as a political ideal, plays in Kant’s political thought. This will support the idea

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that it is the ultimate aim of his entire philosophical enquiry. Secondly, it will show how he employs the idea of freedom, as his political ideal based on a solid philosophical insight, in a process of sociopolitical reform. It will then become clear how the definition of enlightenment has been derived as ‘mobilizing the public towards sociopolitical reforms through a political ideal based on philosophical insight’ from Kant’s Enlightenment. The first aspect to be studied is Kant’s account of the relationship between morality (freedom) and politics, where he situates the former to be superior to the latter. The second is Kant’s views on some political issues, based on his account of two fundamental conceptions: constitution and perpetual peace.

The relationship between freedom and politics Kant contends that as morality is bound to the concept of duty, this makes it necessarily applicable.313 From an objective standpoint, this will remove any conflict between morality and politics. This is because, Kant argues, there cannot be a conflict between morality, which is the ‘theoretical doctrine of right’, and politics, which is the ‘practical doctrine of right’. In other words, there cannot be a conflict between theory and practice. Nevertheless, Kant explains, some members of society do not join others in forming the general will, which establishes the republican constitution and consequently leads to perpetual peace.314 Therefore, it is necessary to compel them to do so, although the result of this is that the submission of some members of society to the civil law will be merely empirical, without a moral motive. Kant shows that this keeps the door open for some people who possess power to deviate from the law. When it comes to the law of nations, the same can be said for some nations. As politics is the art of using the mechanisms of nature in order to rule men, mere empirical submission to the law may lead to an unfavourable result: politics will become the ‘whole of practical wisdom’. Such an unfavourable result leads Kant to introduce the central idea of his philosophical enquiry: freedom, as the transcendent, unempirical base of submission to the law. Kant therefore asserts that the starting point of practical philosophy cannot be experience, but must be pure reason, which provides a coherent system of moral law (freedom).315 He draws a distinction between the moral

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politician and the political moralist.316 The first is the ‘one who so chooses political principles that they are consistent with those of morality’, while the latter is the ‘one who forges a morality in such a way that it conforms to the statesman’s advantage’.317 In addition, the first will give morality (freedom) supremacy over politics when there is a conflict between them within the civil law of a nation. However, Kant argues that reforming the civil law must not cause any disruption to society, as this will be absolutely against practical prudence and morality alike. Concerning the cast of mind of the rulers, he explains that reform will be revolutionary at this point, while it is gradual with regard to the amendment of the articles of the law. He states that: A state may exercise a republican rule, even though by its present constitution it has a despotic sovereignty; until gradually the people becomes susceptible to the influence simply of the idea of the authority of law (as if it possessed physical power) and thus is found fit to be its own legislator (as its own legislation is originally established on law). 318

Kant criticizes the despotizing moralists who call for revolutionary reforms to the laws when a conflict between morality and politics is discovered. This, he claims, neglects political prudence.319 In contrast, the concept of the moralizing politician exercising politics is based merely on the empirical character of man. According to Kant, this leads them to: make a great show of understanding men (which is certainly something to be expected of them, since they have to deal with so many) without understanding man and what can be made of him, for they lack the higher point of view of anthropological observation which is needed for this .320

As the intelligible character of man is absent from their thought, Kant, employing his metaphysics and ethics, explains that the moral law – the idea of freedom – is absent too. This compels politicians to base all the laws in coercion. Kant shows that there are three main political maxims for any moralizing politician. He calls them ‘the immoral doctrine of prudence’.321 The first is the aggrandizement of power within society, and the

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aggrandizement of the nation’s power in the world.322 The second, because freedom is absent, is that the statesman is not accountable for his actions and the bad conduct of the state is the fault of nature. War, in its turn, is the fault of the evil nature of man and of the political state of nature; we will be attacked by the enemy if we do not take the initiative to attack him.323 The third is to privilege the statesmen’s supporters so that they might encourage the rest of society to join them. Kant highlights another difference between the political moralist and the moralizing politician. The first is aware that establishing perpetual peace is a duty upon him, but the actual fulfilment of this is a matter of technique and practical capability.324 On the other hand, the moralizing politician relies on historical experience, which teaches him contradictory methods for establishing perpetual peace. Kant concludes that perpetual peace may be established if priority is given to pure practical reason, which employs nature to fulfil the desired end.325 He contends that political maxims should not be driven by experience, that is, a particular concept of happiness or welfare.326 Rather, they must be derived from pure reason and the concept of duty. Kant concludes by highlighting two main consequences of his discussion on the relationship between morality (freedom) and politics. The first is that the starting point of practical philosophy cannot be experience, but must be pure reason, which provides a coherent system of moral law and freedom. The second, he explains, is that there is no objective conflict between morality and politics, although a subjective conflict does occur. This subjective conflict relates to the conflict between good and evil. It will be endless, and this will motivate the goodness in man to combat evil and be morally improved. Kant moves on to discuss how to harmonize practical morality and politics. For this purpose, he introduces the ‘transcendental principle of the publicity of public law’.327 He holds that publicity is the cornerstone for public law, and without it there is no justice or right.328 He presents the maxim of publicity as: ‘All actions relating to the right of other men are unjust if their maxim is not consistent with publicity.’329 This maxim, according to him, is ethical when it relates to the doctrine of virtue and juridical when it relates to the rights of men. Kant then proposes that any political maxim that cannot be revealed (because it is expected to rise a universal opposition) is unjust. Here, he presents this maxim as negative,

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because it merely determines what is unjust to others. In Kant’s thought, revolution against the ruler of the state is illegitimate, as it necessarily violates the transcendental principle of the publicity of public law.330 This is because revolution must be planned and conducted secretly, and cannot be declared in the civil contract that establishes the constitution. Doing so would make the idea of a state meaningless.331 In contrast, Kant notes that the ruler makes no secret of the fact that he is going to punish anyone who rebels against him, which makes doing so legitimate.332 The transcendental principle of the publicity of public law is applicable also to both international law and to the law of universal citizenship. This is because, according to Kant, it would increase trust within the membership of the international community, and would prevent illegitimate action such as the breaking of promises between states or aggression against smaller states.333 The existence of international law is conditioned by the existence of a ‘juridical condition’, which is necessary to end the political state of nature and establish a form of public law. 334 Kant explains that morality has the branches of philanthropy, which is a conditional duty, and respect for the rights of men, an unconditional duty.335 He shows that politics merely agrees with the first, but tries to deny the second.336 As this conflicts with the principle of publicity, Kant forms another principle: ‘All maxims which stand in need of publicity in order not to fail their end, agree with politics and right combined.’ The function of politics, then, in Kant’s view, is to promote the universal end, that is happiness, and ‘to make the public satisfied with its condition’.337 Therefore, by situating morality (freedom) above politics, Kant shows the central role that the former plays in his political thought in particular and his philosophical system in general.

The republican constitution and perpetual peace Kant’s views on some political issues are based on his account of his conceptions of constitution and perpetual peace. His political views show how he employs the idea of freedom as his political ideal, based on solid philosophical insight into a process of sociopolitical reform. In this regard, Kant presents three groups of articles for perpetual peace: preliminary, definitive and secret. There are six preliminary articles. The

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first is that ‘No treaty of peace shall be held valid in which there is tacitly reserved matter for a future war’.338 For him, doing this would make any treaty of peace a mere truce, as it would not meet his definition of peace: the ‘end of all hostilities’. The second is that ‘No independent states, large or small, shall come under the dominion of another state by inheritance, exchange, purchase or donation’.339 This article agrees with Kant’s conception of the state as ‘a society of men whom no one else has any right to command or to dispose except the state itself’. The dominion of another state by inheritance, exchange, purchase or donation would lead, he asserts, to the downgrading of the state to the status of mere property, not a moral person. Here, Kant seems to agree with Plato, and Averroes, on the similarity between the nature of man and the nature of the state. Furthermore, the dominion of another state by inheritance, exchange, purchase or donation is clearly against the idea of the civil contract, as it denies the right of the citizens to choose.340 Kant presents an empirical example to clarify this article, by referring to what happened in Europe when the citizens were merely subject to the will of a few powerful allied families. The third is that ‘Standing armies (miles perpetuus) shall in time be totally abolished.’341 Kant advocates this measure because the financial burden of maintaining a standing army could potentially make peace more costly than a short war, and because the presence of such an army might be interpreted by other states as a sign of aggression against them, which could lead to war. The fourth article is economic, and states that ‘National debts shall not be contracted with a view to the external friction of states.’342 The fifth, which relates to the second, is that ‘No state shall by force interfere with the constitution or government of another state.’343 The sixth is on the ethics of war. It details that ‘No state shall, during war, permit such acts of hostility which would make mutual confidence in the subsequent peace impossible.’344 The second group of articles for perpetual peace is the definitive, and the most important, as it shows clearly Kant’s employment of his idea of freedom in his call for political reforms.345 The articles are three in number. The second and third definitive articles prescribe a federation of free states – a league of nations – and the law of ‘universal hospitality’, but it is the first article that is of particular interest for this study. It states that ‘The civil constitution of every state should be republican.’346 For Kant,

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a republican constitution is a condition for establishing perpetual peace. He identifies three principles of such a constitution: all male members of the society should be free; there should be only one civil law applicable to all these members as its subjects; and all the members of the society should be politically equal as citizens.347 Therefore, as republicanism is based on the law of freedom, Kant asserts that it is the ‘original’ ground for any constitution.348 From an empirical point of view, Kant argues, this constitution leads to perpetual peace because it restricts the decision to wage wars to the citizens of each state. Citizens, he explains, are the people who are going to carry the burden of any military conflict by acting as soldiers, and by wasting their national wealth and resources funding the conflict.349 Kant concludes, therefore, that citizens will not be willing to approve the decision to go to war when it is so costly to them personally, and this will result in the establishment of perpetual peace.350 Kant draws a crucial distinction between democracy and republicanism. For him, they are two different types of government. He introduces two criteria to distinguish between types of government: the form of sovereignty and the way a government exercises its power.351 In the first, Kant divides the types of government into the autocratic, where sovereignty is possessed by a single man; the aristocratic, where it resides in a few men; and the democratic, where it is held by all the members of society. In contrast, in the second criterion – which Kant thinks is most important to the general public – he divides the types of governments into republicanism, which is the ‘political principle of the separation of the executive power (the administrative) from the legislative’;352 and despotism, which is the ‘autonomous execution by the state of laws which it has itself decreed’.353 This criterion is based on the way a government exercises its power according to its constitution, which is the ‘general will through which the many persons become one nation’.354 A democracy, Kant contends, is necessarily despotic. This is because in a democracy ‘“all” decide for or even against one who does not agree; that is, “all”, who are not quite all, decide’.355 Thus, for Kant, a democracy is not compatible with the general will and freedom: it leads to the rule of the majority. This Kantian argument against such rule seems to be consistent with his epistemological-ethical argument against the role of experience as the origin of morality. He asserts that representation, which rules in the name

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of the general will, must be the form of any government.356 Since ‘everyone wishes to be master’, he insists that the lower the number of rulers in a state, the better it conforms to the general will, and the closer it comes to adopting a republican constitution. This leads to the counter-intuitive conclusion that an autocratic type of government – exemplified in Kant’s thinking by the King of Prussia, Frederick II – is more representative and therefore more republican than a democratic one. This leads Kant to raise the question of the place of the individual under such a constitution, through his ‘principle of humanity’ and other related conceptions: the autonomy of the will and the realm of ends that determine the relationship between the individuals in society, and the relationship between the individuals and the political authority that governs them. Examining these related principles and conceptions will show the link between Kant’s philosophical insight, stated in his Foundations of the Metaphysics of Morals, and his political thought, stated in his Perpetual Peace. It will highlight the centrality of the idea of freedom in his philosophy. While introducing his principle of humanity, Kant asks: ‘Is it a necessary law for all rational beings that they should always judge their actions by such maxims that they themselves could will to serve as universal laws?’357 He distinguishes between the subjective end, which is based on incentive, and the objective end, which is based on motive.358 He defines the end as that ‘which serves the will as the objective ground of its self-determination’,359 and he defines the means as ‘that which contains the ground of the possibility of the action, whose result is an end’.360 Kant identifies ‘the subjective ground of desire’ as the incentive, while he calls ‘the objective ground of volition’ the motive.361 Therefore, the subjective ends are the arbitrary ends that are the consequence of the rational being’s actions, which themselves are based on some incentives. Such ends have a relative worth, but they cannot become either universal principles or the necessary condition for volitions. The objective ends, by contrast, have an absolute worth in themselves. Consequently, this makes them universal principles and a condition for every moral volition. Kant determines merely one objective end. He says: man and, in general, every rational being exists as an end in himself and not merely as a means to be arbitrarily used by this or that will. In all his actions, whether they

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This idea is derived by the philosopher from what he calls the ‘supreme practical principle’, which is that ‘rational nature exists as an end in itself ’.363 This principle is the ground for the ‘practical imperative’, which states: ‘Act so that you treat humanity, whether in your own person or in that of another, always as an end and never as a means only.’364 Kant also calls this principle the ‘principle of humanity’. He asserts that this principle cannot be derived from experience. This is first due to the fact that it is universal: it applies to all rational beings, and universality arises from pure reason not from experience.365 Secondly, Kant believes that the idea that all rational beings are ends in themselves cannot be objectively thought in experience. Therefore, again, it arises from pure reason. The principle of humanity is the supreme limiting condition on freedom. It is based, according to Kant, on three further principles. The first is an objective principle: the principle of humanity is universal, which makes it a law.366 The second principle is subjective: the subject of all the actions is every rational being as an end in himself. The third principle is that the will of every rational being produces universal laws. This is a highly important point, because it is the one from which Kant derives his principle of the ‘autonomy of the will’.367 This concept says that every rational being is not merely a subject of the universal laws, but also a law maker. Consequently, the duty of every rational being is to act according to his will, which at the same time produces universal laws. Therefore, the duty of rational beings never arises from laws that they do not produce. These laws may then contain some interest, incentives or coercion.368 The idea of the autonomy of the will leads Kant to develop another crucial concept: ‘the realm of ends’.369 This idea refers to the ends in a systemic union through common law,370 and works as the philosophical justification of the Kantian notion of the general will presented earlier. He maintains that this is an ideal concept, based on the autonomy of the will, where every rational being treats himself and others simultaneously as both means and end. Therefore, the rational beings who belong to the realm of ends can be viewed as sovereigns and as members at the same time. A rational being is a sovereign when he is giving the universal law by his will, and a

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member when he himself becomes a subject of that universal law.371 This shows the difference between the realm of ends and the realm of nature. The former is based on self-imposed maxims, while the latter is based on efficient causes externally necessitated.372 Kant now reaches a highly significant conclusion. He asserts that morality (freedom) and duty are only possible through the relationships between rational beings who belong to the realm of ends, whether as legislators (sovereign) or as ends (subjects).373 Here is the philosophical justification of Kant’s belief that a democracy necessarily creates despotism, as some individuals, who constitute a minority, might be subject to laws that they did not make. Therefore, Kant’s supportive attitude towards the republican constitution and the general will in his Perpetual Peace is consistent with, and derived from, his principles of humanity, autonomy of the will and the realm of ends stated in his Foundations of the Metaphysics of Morals. This shows the link between his philosophical insight in the ethical domain, and his political thought.

Freedom and the supremacy of reason Examining Kant’s political thought shows how he employs the idea of freedom as his political ideal based on solid philosophical insight in a process of sociopolitical reform. In addition to the previous examinations of Kant’s epistemology, metaphysics, ethics, and his account of the relationship between reason and revelation, this examination contributes to proving that freedom is the ultimate aim of his entire philosophical enquiry. In paying particular attention to elements of Kant’s thought, it has been demonstrated how the definition of enlightenment in this book – which acts as a crucial criterion for the evaluation of Averroes – has been derived from Kant’s view of the Enlightenment. Philosophically and politically, we have seen how Kant was committed to ‘mobilizing the public towards sociopolitical reforms by a political ideal, or a set of political ideals, based on philosophical insight’. Philosophically, Kant argued that knowledge arises through the union of senses and understanding; attempted to save the three traditional metaphysical themes – God, immortality and freedom – from being deconstructed by empirical examination; and held that morality is a concept that is based on demonstration, not experience. Politically, Kant called for the gradual transformation of states towards republican

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constitutions, the establishment of perpetual peace between nations and, most importantly, the establishment of the true church as a result of his account of the relationship between reason and revelation. Together, these form a comprehensive programme of sociopolitical reforms and, because he addressed many of his most important moral, political and philosophical works to the public, Kant’s commitment to reaching, convincing and indeed mobilizing the public can be seen. Straddling and permeating Kant’s political and philosophical thought is his idea of freedom, which penetrates every element of his writing. It is rooted in his philosophical insight and employed in his ideas of a republican constitution and perpetual peace. Freedom is the ultimate aim of Kant’s philosophical system, as can be seen from his epistemological writing, in which he saved the idea of freedom from being deconstructed by empirical research. He then developed his theory of the rational origin of the moral law – synonymous with freedom – and giving it superiority over revelation and politics alike. Returning to the relationship between reason and revelation – the central question of enlightenment – Kant’s concept of ecclesiastical faith represents his formula for this relationship, one which he conceptualized as a progression towards the ideal of pure religious faith, born from, reliant upon, sustained by and synonymous with reason alone. This rational faith is distinguished by its eschewing of pseudo-service, represented by revelation, tradition and unthinking obedience. For Kant, reason was not opposed to religion, but the essence of it, and he equated national religion with rational faith. He demonstrated his conviction that it should be used to understand religious rites and revelation in a rational and moral fashion. This prioritizing of reason over revelation stands in stark contrast to Averroes’ conceptualization of the relationship as one of mutual dependency in which the traditional primacy given to revealed truth and blind faith was never challenged. It is to a further exploration of this contrast between the two philosophers that this book now turns.

4

GENERAL COMPARISON Outlining the philosophical projects of Averroes and Kant

The detailed accounts of aspects of Kant and Averroes’ writings on reason and revelation presented above have dealt a significant blow to the contention that Averroes can be considered to be an advocate for or a representative of Arab enlightenment. Before any conclusions can be drawn from this partial account, however, it is necessary to take a step back. Taking a wider perspective here will enable the totality of the philosophical projects of Averroes and Kant to be comprehended. This is a far more accurate approach than than cherry-picking scattered remarks from their writings to support one’s conclusions. It also avoids the intellectual naiveté of assuming that one can directly compare an eighteenth-century Prussian intellectual with a twelfth-century polymath living in Muslim Spain without taking into account the context in which they lived, worked and wrote. It avoids, too, the worse crime of assuming that the fact that the two contexts are different explains all the differences between the two philosophers, or, to put it another way, that Averroes would have thought as Kant did had he lived at the same place and in the same time, or vice versa. An evaluation is required of the conditions in which Averroes’ and Kant’s philosophical questions were formulated, as well as an analysis of their own explicit statements about their aims and intentions along with what can be deduced from the implicit, and a consideration of the rhetorical and cognitive strategies each philosopher employed in order to achieve his aims. By this means it will be possible to establish the extent to which Averroes’ doctrines were ‘enlightened’ and whether they were consciously intended to be. This evaluation is grounded within the historical – rather than ideological – perspective and methodology on which this study is based. The many assertions of contemporary Arab scholars that Averroes was an ‘early enlightener’ all claim to be based on an accurate historical understanding

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of Averroes’ thought. However, these supposedly objective claims are, as has been established, swayed by ideology to such an extent as to contradict not just each other, but often themselves. It will become clear that ‘advocating enlightenment’ is not evident in Averroes’ philosophical project, either as an ultimate aim or as a strategy. Averroes’ project, in contrast to that of Kant, was not aimed at enlightening, that is, teaching or mobilizing the public towards sociopolitical reforms through a political ideal based on philosophical insight. Rather, as Chapter 2 has shown, one of his aims is a scientific-pedagogical one: he sought to contribute to every known domain of knowledge through producing commentaries on Aristotle’s work. His other aim is a theoretical-religious one. This involved employing those philosophical conclusions that do not violate religion – according to Averroes’ theory of interpretation – in order to improve public understanding of religious doctrines. In contrast, the ultimate aim of Kant’s philosophical project, as Chapter 3 has shown, is political – through the moral law of freedom. He hoped to mobilize the public towards sociopolitical reforms through a political ideal based on philosophical insight. While the question of the relationship between reason and revelation is a central one in the philosophical projects of both Averroes and Kant, it appears in these projects as a means of serving their ultimate aims. For Averroes, his formulation of the relationship is not a means towards religious reform – as some contemporary Arab thinkers claim – but a strategy to protect his ultimate pedagogical aim. On the other hand, Kant, in addition to epistemology, employs his formula of the relationship between reason and revelation as a means of launching a religious-political reform that targets the public as individuals. This contrasts with another crucial characteristic of Averroes’ philosophical project: it is directed at the political elite (the Almohad rulers) and the intellectual elite (the other philosophers and theologians) of society, not the public. This is not only true about the audience, but also when it comes to the formation of philosophical questions. Averroes, in fact, did not even have the initial idea of beginning his philosophical enquiry. Rather, he was encouraged to comment on Aristotle’s work by members of the political elite who were interested in philosophy. This shows that Averroes did not originally intend to enlighten the public and to mobilize them.1 His philosophical project was apolitical,

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and its ultimate aims were scientific-pedagogical and theoretical-religious. Therefore, there are two contradictory characteristics of the philosophical projects of Averroes and Kant. The first is that Averroes’ philosophical project was pedagogical (meaning that he was interested in building a pedagogical system) and theoretical, while Kant’s philosophical project was political. The second is that Averroes’ project was addressed to the political and intellectual elites, not to the public. In contrast, Kant’s project was addressed to the elites and to the public alike. Each characteristic will be discussed in detail and the role of philosophers and their thoughts will be highlighted.

Apolitical or political philosophy? The ultimate aim of Averroes’ philosophical project was pedagogical and theoretical, while the aim of Kant’s was political. This difference reflects the different conditions in which the main questions of their philosophical projects were framed. While Kant’s philosophical question was concerned with how to provide a philosophical establishment of the law of freedom, one of Averroes’ philosophical motives was to defend pure Aristotelianism against Neoplatonic attack. A review of the main philosophical trends in Andalusia, where Averroes lived, will reveal how his philosophical question was formed. Philosophy in Andalusia followed on from the work of Farabi and Avicenna. However, later on it divided into two paths. The first was to continue Farabi’s project of commenting on Aristotle’s thought. The second gained inspiration from mysticism, particularly that of Ibn ‘Arabi (d. 1240).2 Avempace is the quintessential representative of the first path. He was associated with the Almoravid dynasty, and occupied an official position in its political regime.3 He was influenced by Farabi, and like him advanced the theory of emanation.4 He differs from Farabi only in his political thought in not advocating the idea of the virtuous city. Instead, in his Conduct of the Solitary, Avempace asserts that intellectual happiness is possible, but political happiness is not.5 Ibn Tufayl, on the other hand, is a key representative of the second path. He was influenced by Avicenna and, as he did not believe that reason was sufficient to reach happiness, he advanced mysticism, along with philosophy, as an important means to this end.6

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Averroes chose to follow the path of Farabi and Avempace in commenting on Aristotle, although he made some profound modifications to their ideas. His work represents the peak of the Arab commentaries on Aristotle, which had begun with Farabi.7 Aristotle is particularly important within the Islamic tradition. His logic was employed in theological and legal debates, which may partly explain why he was important to Averroes, who was a judge. Averroes, as a defender of pure Aristotelianism, did not agree with the other Arab philosophers who studied Aristotle’s logic and physics as a preliminary stage leading to Plato’s metaphysics.8 Also, he had always been critical of the attempt, led by Farabi and Avicenna, to introduce Neoplatonism into the Islamic philosophical sphere in an attempt to promote a reconciliation between Plato and Aristotle. The fact that Averroes was primarily concerned with commenting on Aristotle shows that the aim of his philosophical enquiry was not political. This provides the first reason why Averroes cannot be seen as an early enlightener. In contrast, Kant’s philosophical question was highly political: the three main metaphysical themes – God, immortality, and freedom – were at the centre of Kant’s philosophical project. Starting from the sixteenth century, new developments in science, which had replaced the Aristotelian deductive method in natural science, had encouraged an inductive and empirical method. Kant rejected the idealism of Descartes, Berkeley, Leibniz and Wolff for its dogmatic use of reason. On the other hand, he rejected the empiricism of Hume and Locke for its deconstructive nature. This new empirical method represented a serious threat to the validity of metaphysics as a basis for obtaining knowledge, and consequently put its traditional themes (God, freedom and immortality) under empirical deconstructive examination. Kant launched his philosophical project to protect metaphysics and its traditional themes from such a deconstruction. In this project, his conception of freedom occupies the central position. The question of the relationship between reason and revelation appears as a central theme in the philosophical projects of both philosophers. Dealing with this question is the strategy employed by both to achieve the ultimate aims of their projects. For Averroes, this key question is linked to his pedagogical project and must be understood through it. The fact that this question was a central theme in Averroes’ thought, but not a central aim, shows that contemporary Arab thinkers have overestimated the value

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of Averroes’ treatment of this question by placing it at the centre of his philosophical enquiry. Averroes has two aims in dealing with the question of the relationship between revelation and reason. Neither of them is of a political nature. The first is that he intends to justify and protect his philosophical (pedagogical and scientific) activities from any disruption by the state or the public. This historical review shows that philosophy in Andalusia was not immune from political interference. Andalusian society had always been dominated by a strict form of the Maliki legal school, which was deeply hostile toward any sort of rational interpretation of religious texts. Therefore, jurists, and consequently those in the public sphere, accused those who engaged in philosophy of heresy. Owing to the state of perpetual war – whether against Christian powers, or even amongst Arabs themselves – obtaining public support was crucial for the rulers. This unstable political situation led the political elites to make efforts to confirm their political legitimacy. This legitimacy was based on the ‘true Islam’, as it was understood in that particular society, so the political elite increased their ties with the culture of the general public and reaffirmed their commitment to the public’s conception of Islam. Averroes’ second aim in dealing with the question of the relationship between revelation and reason was a practical one. He intended to employ and naturalize some of the philosophical conclusions that had been abstracted from Aristotle’s philosophical activities in order to provide a better understanding of religion and religious texts. In this regard, Averroes was preceded by Kindi, who used Greek philosophy as a means of solving some theological issues and of interpreting the Qur’an.9 It should be noted that the study of the relationship between reason and revelation did not start with Averroes, but was a common theme within the Islamic philosophical tradition. Avicenna’s contribution to this topic had a profound effect on Islamic philosophy and theology alike. His attempt to reconcile reason and revelation resulted in the emergence of Islamic theology (kalam) as a form of Islamic philosophy. Before him, theology and philosophy had been separate.10 Later on, many Muslim theologians found in Avicenna’s thought a valid resource to employ in their theological debates.11 Studying the relationship between reason and revelation was also common in Andalusia, where Averroes himself lived. Ibn Tufayl’s tale Hayy Ibn Yaqzan shows his attempt at reconciling reason

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with revelation by showing the two leading to the same truth: the belief in one God and in Islam. The story also reveals how he tried to reconcile reason with mysticism.12 The question raised here is this: if it has been established that the study of the relationship between reason and revelation, far from originating from Averroes, was a common theme in Islamic philosophy, why does Averroes’ contribution continue to attract the greatest attention in contemporary Arab scholarship, almost to the exclusion of the study of those philosophers before and after him? It is difficult to avoid the conclusion that many contemporary Arab thinkers found in the person of Averroes – in addition to some elements of his thought – ideological symbols to support their arguments in present-day debates. Averroes, unlike many other Muslim philosophers, was a judge who was supposed to show a profound understanding of Islam, and who was responsible for enforcing the Shari‘ah, the Islamic law, in his society. This means that describing him as a rational, original philosopher (as many modernized authentic discourse thinkers do) or even as an early advocate of secularism (as many Westernized discourse thinkers do) presents Islam as supportive of, or at the very least not intrinsically opposed to, these ideas. The contemporary thinkers who advocate such ideas – a programme of rationality or secularism or both – for twenty-first-century Muslim societies can therefore point to Averroes as a homegrown, authentically Islamic source and proponent embedded within Arab-Islamic cultural heritage. Averroes, furthermore, unlike many other Muslim philosophers, was an Arab. This means that highlighting his philosophical achievements, particularly his role in the rise of Europe, is very effective in reassuring contemporary Arab thinkers of the value, contributions and potential of the intellectual history of the Arab-Islamic world. In this regard, it is also worth mentioning that some contemporary Arab thinkers draw attention to Averroes’ aim of highlighting the Arab-Islamic presence in Iberia, in what is known as ‘the nostalgia of Andalusia’. More importantly, Averroes’ catastrophic fate provides a good source for many contemporary Arab thinkers to present him as a victim of demagogical forces in society, a martyr to blind faith and religious intolerance who died as the result of being denied freedom of thought and speech. This shows that contemporary Arab attention on Averroes’ thought alone can be justified by the ideological usefulness of

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his thought and character and its applicability in present-day debates. Unfortunately, this approach is usually favoured rather than any nuanced, accurate understanding of his life and work as a whole and the historical context within which it was embedded and from which it emerged. Kant had to deal with the question of the relationship between reason and revelation as his religious strategy for achieving the ultimate aim of his philosophical project. His attempt to restore metaphysics was not the first in the German-speaking sphere. The empirical threat prompted Leibniz and Wolff to respond with reassurances of the validity of rational deduction in obtaining knowledge. However, as Chapter 3 has shown, this LeibnizianWolffian attempt to restore metaphysics was faced by another serious attack. This was from Pietism, the mainstream religious sect in Prussia at that time. Pietism developed an anti-rationalist view in harmony with the inductive empirical one, denying the capability of reason to provide any sort of knowledge beyond the senses. Such a view was stimulated by their belief that the deductive rationalist approach would inevitably lead toward atheism. This failed attempt alarmed Kant. He saw that his philosophical project would not succeed without engaging in a deep process of religious reform. In engaging in it, he would have to deal with the question of the relationship between reason (moral law) and revelation, in addition to outlining the relationship between moral law and politics.13 Averroes’ comprehensive commentaries on all Aristotle’s work, which cover all aspects of knowledge that were known to Aristotle, show that Averroes’ aim was entirely pedagogical: he wanted to expand on the ideas and provide a commentary on them with the aim of instructing rather than inspiring widespread social change. Even though he did not have access to Aristotle’s Politics, he compensated for this by engaging with Plato’s Republic. This shows that his intention was to make politics into a science and to build a pedagogical system. It is worth noting that although some contemporary Arab thinkers, like Jabri, realize the pedagogical nature of Averroes’ philosophy, they insist on presenting him as an enlightener who sought political-religious reforms. When Averroes started producing his own works, they were mainly aimed at responding to Ghazali’s attack on the study of philosophy; they were reactive rather than proactive. Each of these works has a function in Averroes’ defence. Fasl al-maqal (or the Decisive Treatise) was the first, and it works as the theoretical ground

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for Averroes’ thought regarding the relationship between revelation and reason. He wrote this book in demonstrative language and he directs it to the elite.14 Averroes employs the theory he stated in the Fasl al-maqal in a practical way in al-Kashf ‘an manahij al-adilla (or the Exposition of the Methods of Proof). However, the Kashf also has in mind an ongoing debate that involved several sects of the mutakallimun (theologians) on vital religious issues. It is written in rhetorical language and directed at the public. Tahafut al-tahafut (or The Incoherence of the Incoherence) was the third book and it is a direct philosophical response to Ghazali’s attack. For the ultimate end of his philosophical project, Kant used a twofold strategy: epistemological and religious.15 He wrote his Critique of Pure Reason as the cornerstone of his epistemological strategy. Here, he set out the relationship between the speculative and practical employments of reason in a way that served his political project.16 He did so by preventing the speculative employment of reason from interfering in the three metaphysical themes, and by setting the practical use of reason as superior to its speculative one. After setting out these epistemological issues, he moves on to crystallize his political project. He wrote Foundations of the Metaphysics of Morals to prepare the philosophical ground for his conception of freedom. The Critique of Practical Reason, published three years later, was written to be more accessible to the public after separating the metaphysical parts. He outlines the relationship between freedom and religion in his Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone. In this, he discusses the relationship between reason and revelation. Finally, in his Perpetual Peace, he sets out the relationship between freedom (the moral law) and politics. He asserts that the establishment of universal perpetual peace is conditional on the establishment of a republican constitution in each state. Thus, by installing freedom as the only a priori theme and the only condition of moral law among the three, he reveals that the ultimate aim of his project is political, which makes him an advocate of the Enlightenment (as well as of enlightenment). To stress the apolitical characteristic of Averroes’ philosophical project is not the same as claiming that Averroes never dealt with political issues. He did in some places. However, when he did so, it was in order to serve his pedagogical and religious aims, rather than to engage in political debate of any kind. Averroes’ Commentary on Plato’s Republic serves as an exam-

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ple of this. It is clear that some elements of Plato’s political thought do not help Averroes’ practical political aim of helping Abu Yahya’s political task. This is mainly because of the socio-historical limits of some of these elements, a factor of which Averroes is always aware, because they contradict the basic principles of Islam. The main examples of this are the role of the guardian class and the communism of children and women in the ideal state. However, these elements of Plato’s thought are still important for Averroes because of their pedagogical usefulness. They are important for political science as a science, and because of this they are presented in the commentary. Averroes follows Aristotle in classifying the sciences into the theoretical and the practical. The theoretical ones include mathematics, metaphysics and physics. The practical, or civil, sciences include ethics and politics. Ethics deals with ‘habits, volitional actions and behaviour in general […] their mutual relationship […] and which of these habits are due to which others’.17 Averroes explains that the main source of this part is Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics, which he first commented on. The political part of the practical sciences deals with how these habits become entrenched in the soul, and which of them are co-ordinated so that the action resulting from the intended habit should be perfect to the highest degree; and which habits hinder one another.18

Averroes explains that the main sources for this are Plato’s Republic and Aristotle’s Politics. He states that the latter had not come into his hands, so he was compelled to comment on Plato’s Republic instead. Averroes finds the roots of political science in physics. He believes that man is a natural being, expressing his psychological situations through his body. Physics, in its turn, necessitates the science of psychology, which is the subject of both ethics and politics.19 It is worth mentioning that Averroes deliberately excluded from his commentary the elements that did not fit his two purposes. Thus, he excluded the dialectical arguments originally presented by Plato and he reconstructed the book in a demonstrative Aristotelian language.20 Even those contemporary Arab thinkers like Jabri who mistakenly view this book as part of Averroes’ political activism cannot ignore the fact that its political message, as compared to its pedagogical weight, is almost insignificant. Therefore, while Kant used epistemology

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as a strategy to ground and justify the ultimate aim of his philosophical project – politics – Averroes used politics as a strategy to protect and justify the ultimate aim of his philosophical project – science and pedagogy. The fact that there is no ultimate political aim to Averroes’ philosophy means that he does not fit the definition of enlightenment, which, as Chapters 1 and 3 have shown, is of a political nature.

For the elite or for the public? Enlightenment, as understood in this book, is an intellectual project that is addressed to the public. So, it is crucial when examining Averroes’ relationship to enlightenment, and assessing whether he was an early intentional advocate of it or not, to study the ways in which he chose to communicate with other thinkers, rulers and the public through written texts, philosophical lectures, religious lectures and private meetings. It is also vital to compare this with the way Kant intended to communicate. In this regard, it is clear that Averroes did not intend to publicize his philosophical project. This is evident from the way he employed his theory of the modes of discourse and from his relationship to the political regime of the Almohad dynasty. In this regard, Kant, as an advocate of the Enlightenment, sought to communicate not only with princes and other elite thinkers, but also with the public. This was done by dividing his published works into two parts: one contained metaphysical doctrines outside the public’s comprehension; the other had been deliberately freed by him from heavy metaphysical doctrines in order to make them understandable to the public. The first consideration that shows that Averroes did not intend to publicize his philosophical project is his theory of the modes of discourse. Averroes adapts Aristotle’s theory of discourse to explain the relationship between religious texts and people. For Averroes, the Qur’an contains three modes of argument: rhetorical, dialectic and demonstrative. Each of these is applicable to a particular group of people: rhetorical for the masses; dialectical for the theologians; and demonstrative for the class of demonstration, that is, the philosophers. As Averroes argues in his theories of interpretation and discourse that the demonstrative interpretation of the ambiguous verses in the Qur’an by philosophers involves a demonstrative mode of discourse revealed in demonstrative language, he strongly urges

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that such an interpretation must not be revealed to the public. The way Averroes employs his theory of the modes of discourse shows that he did not aim at spreading the study of philosophy to the whole of society. The Kashf is an exceptional case among Averroes’ works because it is addressed to the public in rhetorical language. However, this book alone is not sufficient to prove that Averroes had a systematic plan to communicate with the public and to enlighten them. There are three reasons for this, and the first is the intellectual conditions in which the book was written. Averroes wrote the Kashf as a response to the ongoing debate between several Islamic sects about certain key religious issues. In this case the debate involved the mutakallimun (the theologians, in this case the Ash‘arites and the Mu‘tazila), the Sufis and the Literalists. Averroes strongly believed that these sects were mistaken in divulging to the public their belief that reason and revelation contradict each other. Nevertheless, Averroes explained that as such a belief had already been revealed to the public, he had been ‘forced’21 to write the Kashf in order to show that reason and revelation do not contradict each other. This would be done by showing what he calls ‘the essence’ of both reason and revelation to the public throughout this book. This shows that addressing the Kashf to the public came after the public had already become aware of the debate on these vital religious issues, including the relationship between reason and revelation. Averroes, then, had to interfere in this public debate in order to prevent the encounter from dominating the public sphere. The Kashf, therefore, does not show Averroes’ intention of communicating with the public in rhetorical language in order to enlighten them. It merely indicates a spontaneous reaction to an ongoing debate, and an attempt to settle the issue once and for all. The second reason why addressing the Kashf to the public in rhetorical language is not enough to prove that Averroes has a systematic plan to communicate with the public and to enlighten them lies in the issues addressed in the Kashf: the existence of God, His unity, His attributes, His knowledge and His actions. These matters are theoretical, and have no obvious political use. Addressing the public in a theoretical, apolitical discourse correlates with Averroes’ conception of the highest good. This is in itself apolitical, being the stage of human perfection reached only by those who master theoretical sciences. As mastering these is a privilege of

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the intellectual elite, reaching the stage of human perfection is not possible for the majority of people. In his Middle Commentaries on De Anima and Middle Commentaries on Plato’s Republic, Averroes argues that the existence of the theoretical sciences is for the sake of the highest good, which makes these kinds of sciences higher than the practical ones such as politics.22 The existence of the latter kind of science is not for the highest good, but necessary for the sake of the theoretical sciences. Addressing an apolitical discourse to the public in the Kashf correlates to Averroes’ conception of the highest good, and proves the ultimately pedagogical and theoretical nature of the ultimate aims of his philosophical project. The third reason is that Averroes chooses to communicate with the public through religion, not through philosophy. In the Kashf, Averroes aims to ‘investigate the intentions of the lawgiver’23 on some key religious issues, and how the public should deal with them. He also aims to show the method that religion follows in order to persuade the public to hold such beliefs. Averroes asserts that the role of religion is to educate people through the proper discourse: the rhetorical mode of discourse. This, for him, will enable the public to reach happiness.24 The significance of Averroes’ classification of the modes of discourse is that it enables religion to communicate theoretical truths (knowledge of God) and practical truths (jurisprudential) with the masses through a mode of discourse that Averroes saw as suited to their understanding. This was through the pseudo-religion of ritual, tradition and revealed truth that Kant would have condemned.25 Communicating with the public through religion does not make Averroes an early advocate of enlightenment. Doing so does not involve enlightening. Despite the widely shared belief within contemporary Arab thought that Averroes was a religious and political reformer, he does not teach or attempt to mobilize the public towards a new role for religion in society as part of an attempt to advocate religious reform. Rather, Averroes still conforms to the principles held in society, and does not have the intention to change or reform them. Kant’s thought reveals a different attitude to the public. As an advocate of the Enlightenment, he had to communicate not only with princes and other ivory-tower thinkers in a rarefied intellectual sphere, but also with the public. This is done by dividing his published works into two parts. One contains metaphysical doctrines that the public cannot understand,

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while the other is deliberately stripped of metaphysical doctrines in order to make it understandable to the public. Kant’s religious work, such as Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone, belongs to the first category, that is, the part that is not intended to be read by the public. In fact, in a letter to Frederick William II, who had accused him of using his philosophy against the basic teachings of religion, Kant explained that this book was philosophical rather than theological and was addressed to scholars, not to the general public. So far, Averroes and Kant agree with each other in not addressing their works to the public. In Kant’s work in his second phase, however, he deliberately eliminated metaphysical doctrines in order to make it readable for the public. It includes such works as Critique of Practical Reason, Perpetual Peace and ‘What is Enlightenment?’ This part has an ethical and political dimension, where Kant intends to enlighten the public. In this regard, Kant’s way of dealing with the public is more similar to Farabi than to Averroes. Neither Kant nor Farabi communicated their religious-metaphysical works to the public in the same way or to the same extent as they did their ethical-political works. Furthermore, the way Kant communicates with the public is characterized in the content of his published work, in which he always conceives of society as formed of independent and free individuals, in which freedom through moral law is the duty of each one of them. Kant asserts that publicity is a crucial factor in the progress of any human society.26 In this regard, philosophers, as the free teachers of right, are entitled to take the responsibility for enlightening the public through their relationship to the state. This is what Kant calls the ‘popular Enlightenment’, or the Enlightenment of the people. It refers to the ‘public instructions of the people upon their duties and rights towards the state to which they belong’.27 Kant explains that enlightening the public is not only achieved by addressing them, but is achieved more efficiently by addressing the state. Nevertheless, Kant’s conception of the popular Enlightenment reveals the communicative nature of his thought, not only in terms of the scale of the published books, but also the content.28 The second fact that shows that Averroes did not intend to publicize his philosophical project is his relationship with the political regime of the Almohad dynasty. This relationship reveals the character of his whole philosophical project. The enlightened rulers of this dynasty encouraged

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him to begin his philosophical project: he was asked to make Aristotle’s thought more accessible to enlightened rulers and princes by the head of the Almohad state, Abu Ya‘qub Yusuf. In addition, many of Averroes’ middle commentaries on Aristotle’s works were made at the request of some of the enlightened Almohad princes, and were sent to them upon completion.29 Even his Commentary on Plato’s Republic was written at the request of Abu Yahya, a brother of the second Almohad ruler, Abu Yusuf Ya‘qub, and at the same time his political opponent. Abu Yahya’s supportive attitude towards philosophy and philosophers might have been the reason why Averroes showed his support for Abu Yahya’s plan to overthrow his brother, and also the reason why he agreed to summarize Plato’s Republic: it would help Abu Yahya in running the state. The conditions in which Averroes’ main book on politics was written indicate that Averroes did not take the initiative in calling for political and social reform. This makes his critical remarks in the book not intended and central but contingent. What is also significant is the fact that he wrote the commentary in demonstrative language, making it difficult for the public to read. This expresses the marginal role that political and social reform occupies in his thought. Averroes’ attitude to this matter refutes the widely held belief within contemporary Arab thought that Averroes was an enlightener who sought to encourage political and social reform. Kant had strong ties with the political elite of his country, but his relationship with the ruling elite was conducted in a different manner from that of Averroes. He lived most of his life during the reign of the Prussian king Frederick the Great. Enlightenment, which was mainly advocated in Prussia and other German-speaking countries by Wolff, had become the main ideological theme of the Prussian state since the beginning of Frederick’s reign. This had encouraged the work of Wolff and his colleagues in all Prussian universities, and had created a free religious and social – but not political – atmosphere. Such an atmosphere was also favourable for Kant. Unlike Averroes, who had to employ the philosophical conclusions within the religious texts in his public teachings, Kant could reveal his philosophical views freely in his lectures. Although Kant found the principle ‘argue as much as you want and over whatever you want, but obey’30 proof that Frederick’s era was the era of the Enlightenment, he also believed that Prussia was far from an enlightened state. This shows

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Kant’s awareness that his philosophical project should go beyond the political elite and its few enlightened members and reach the public. At this point, it is instructive to compare Averroes with another Islamic thinker, Farabi, in order to reveal still more clearly the apolitical, pedagogical and theoretical interest of Averroes. Farabi had no interest in building a pedagogical system and, similarly to Averroes, he believed in Aristotle’s classification of the modes of discourse. He gives them epistemological, psychological and ontological meanings.31 Epistemologically, Farabi conceives of these modes of discourse as if they are the types of human thinking. Psychologically, he sees them corresponding to the rational and imaginative faculties of the soul. Ontologically, the modes of discourse, which are addressed to different sorts of men, confirm the hierarchy among them.32 Furthermore, Farabi follows Plato and Aristotle in using the strategy of multilevel writing. However, he believes that he should address his theoretical writings only to those who are talented in understanding demonstrative arguments, and not to the public who might be confused by these issues.33 Farabi, however, unlike Averroes but like Kant, does not use this strategy while writing political or ethical treatises, as they are aimed at enlightening the public.34 He uses his ethical and political works in order to communicate with the public and as a means for change.35 This brief comparison between Averroes and Farabi shows that the latter’s work is closer to the definition of enlightenment adopted in this book than the former’s due to its political and communicative nature. Thus, the commonly held idea within contemporary Arab scholarship that Averroes’ commentary on Plato’s Republic represents his contribution to political and social reform is exaggerated at best. Moreover, in comparing Averroes with the often-neglected Farabi, it can be seen that the ideological usefulness of Averroes’ thought and character – even though it might not be historically accurate – and its applicability to present-day debates attracts more attention to him than to other Muslim philosophers within contemporary Arab scholarship. It is not the uniquely ‘enlightened’ nature of Averroes’ thought that has earned him this particular status. The second way in which Averroes’ relationship with the political regime of the Almohad dynasty reveals the character of his philosophical project is that he does not seem to try to change the concept of philosophy

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that was in the mind of the enlightened Almohad ruler and princes. These ‘enlightened’ rulers had no conception of the validity of philosophy in daily life, that is, as a political, intellectual, social and educational project for improving the lives of individuals and their society. By treating philosophy as an intellectual luxury, with no relation to life, they showed a lack of awareness of how important it was as a practical project in society. This was expressed in the readiness that the elites of the successive ruling dynasties showed in sacrificing philosophy to political expediency. The pursuit of political legitimacy by the Almohad regime, and the state of war with the Christian powers in Iberia, contributed to weakening the position of philosophy and philosophers of that era. Instead, the regime displayed more commitment to the public understanding of Islam. The fact that Averroes himself was a victim of such policies during the reign of Abu Yusuf Ya‘qub does not necessarily mean that it is accurate to co-opt him as an enemy of such policies; he would hardly be the first or last person to be condemned by a system that he did not seek to overthrow. Without impugning his seriousness or his intellectual rigour, one may seek in vain for any resistance within Averroes’ works to the airy attitude to philosophy displayed by the aesthetes and dilettantes of the Almohad dynasty. At that time and in that place, philosophers, and philosophy, were a luxury enjoyed only by that class, and it would be the last to welcome a call for political and social change. In contrast, Kant did not, or did not have to, rely on the political elite in conducting his philosophical project. He had an agenda independent of theirs. The death of Frederick the Great and the reign of his successor, Frederick William II, dramatically shifted the intellectual balance in Prussia in favour of Pietism for short time. One new religious edict restricted freedom of thought by setting new rules for schools and churches, particularly when dealing with religious issues. Another applied strict censorship on the intellectual works of university professors that discussed religious and moral matters. Although his Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone was rejected by the authorities for contradicting the second edict, his intellectual activities were not entirely affected by these changes as he still managed to publish some parts of his book. This shows that while there was some constraint on his thought, his intellectual and philosophical activity did not change direction to match that of Prussia’s

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ruling elite. It could even be read as a gesture of pursing his own agenda with persistence, independence and defiance. Averroes never showed that his conception of philosophy and its function in society was different from that of his country’s ruling elite. Therefore, it is reasonable to conclude that he did not intend to employ his philosophical project to participate in a process of deep political, social and intellectual reform. For example, it is doubtful whether Averroes aimed, by his attempt to reconcile reason and revelation, to change the public attitude towards reason. It is more likely that his aim was less ambitious: he wanted to prevent public culture from disturbing his scientific and pedagogical project. On the other hand, as the ultimate aim of Kant’s philosophical project was political (that is, the idea of freedom), the public occupied a very different position in his thought: he wanted their conceptions to be changed by his work.

The role of philosophers Averroes and Kant made several claims about the role of philosophers, both in their own societies and within the ideal societies they envisaged. This reveals the role that each claimed for himself, or perhaps the standard against which each measured himself, and shows the intentions behind their philosophical projects. The thinkers agreed that philosophers had a significant role, or could fulfil a function, in religious, educational and political spheres. They even had a similar understanding of the religious role as concerned with providing rational interpretations of religious texts. They also concurred that philosophers were responsible for communicating with the public and educating them. However, they had very different ideas about what such a communication and education would entail and they disagreed about the scope and importance of the philosopher in public and political life. Kant clearly gave philosophers a role that involved teaching and/or mobilizing the public towards sociopolitical reform through a political ideal based on philosophical insight. As stated in Chapter 1, two factors define a particular intellectual activity as a political activity. The first is the speculation about any traditionally conceived political phenomenon, such as state, authority and society, and any intellectual activity that aims

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at establishing, consolidating, or reshaping an ideal concept, or a cluster of ideal concepts. The second is the writer’s intention of publicizing his political speculation and/or his establishment, consolidation, or reshaping of an ideal concept to the public in order to mobilize them toward a particular end. Based on this definition, the political role of philosophers is wider in Averroes’ thought than it is in Kant’s. While Kant has philosophers providing secret advice to the rulers, Averroes includes them in the aristocratic council that governs the ideal state so they can contribute to governance. The contribution of philosophers in Averroes’ thought is central. They are exclusively entitled to interpret religion and explain the policies to the public through their rhetorical skills. Practically, as has been shown in Chapter 2, Averroes insists that their contribution is crucial, as they are entitled to interpret revelation. This gives them the last word regarding the laws and conventions of the state. It should be noted that philosophy itself has no political role in Averroes’ political thought, as he does not allow philosophers to divulge their philosophical discussions and conclusions to the public. Therefore, his description of the two ideal states where philosophy does not play any political role should not be understood to indicate that philosophers have no political role to play. Averroes stresses the political role of philosophers in running the ideal state, although this role is not exclusive to them. However, the wide political role of philosophers in Averroes’ thought does not contradict, although it may disguise, the fact that the ultimate aim of his philosophical project was apolitical. Neither does the fact that he does not aim through his philosophy to communicate with the public. Rather, it should be understood to confirm these two characteristics of Averroes’ philosophical project. This is because the political role of philosophers in Averroes’ thought is not based on the philosopher’s ability to speculate about any phenomenon traditionally conceived of as political. Nor it is based on his ability to establish, consolidate, or reshape an ideal concept and to communicate it to the public. It is based, however, on apolitical skills, like interpreting the holy texts and logic, aiming at achieving the highest good. For Averroes, the highest good is in itself apolitical, referring to the stage of human perfection reached only by those who master theoretical sciences. As mastering theoretical sciences is a privilege of the intellectual elite, reaching the stage of human perfection is not possible for the majority

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of people. So, the political role of philosophers in Averroes’ thought is instrumental, and not an aim in itself. It is based on apolitical skills leading to an ultimately apolitical end. Therefore, Averroes’ formulation for the role of philosophers – and so for himself – does not allow him to fit the definition of enlightenment, which is of a political nature. In contrast, Kant gives philosophers a minor political role. He highlights the importance of the ‘secret article’ among the articles of the public laws. This secret article is as follows: ‘The opinion of philosophers on the conditions of the possibility of public peace shall be consulted by those states armed for war.’36 Kant admits that such an article can exist merely subjectively but not objectively because it may cause embarrassment to the leaders of the states, who present themselves as the wise in front of their subjects while in reality they receive advice from philosophers. If the article is secret, however, they can receive this advice in a discreet manner. Furthermore, inviting philosophers to give advice does not need an article stated in any form of public law, as doing so is a universal moral duty through reason.37 Kant asserts that this secret article does not mean giving philosophers the last word in the conduct of the state. Furthermore, this article, he insists, is not a call for a philosopher king, as authority may corrupt the judgement of the wise. Rather, it is merely a call to make the voice of philosophers heard by rulers. His account of the role of philosophers in running the state shows that he clearly disagrees with Plato, and Averroes, on this issue: Kant’s idea of the scope of philosophers’ political role is clearly narrower than that of Averroes, but it is purely political.

Advocating enlightenment – or not It has become clear that advocating enlightenment is not evident in Averroes’ philosophical project, either as an ultimate aim or as a strategy. Averroes’ aims in undertaking his philosophical project were, in fact, scientific-pedagogical and theoretical-religious. He hoped to add to every known area of knowledge through commentaries on Aristotle’s work. He also wanted to use philosophical conclusions that did not contradict religion, according to his theory of interpretation, to improve the public understanding of religious doctrines. In contrast, the ultimate aim of Kant’s philosophical project is political, through the moral law of freedom. It is

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aimed at enlightening the public attitude to sociopolitical reforms based on philosophical insight. The ultimate aim of the philosophical system of both philosophers is reflected in the role of philosophers in their thoughts. Kant gives philosophers a narrow but purely political role. Averroes gives them a wider political role, but they are to use apolitical skills for apolitical aims. Averroes does not intend to publicize his philosophical project, which means that he does not aim to mobilize the public. This can be seen from the way he uses his theory of the modes of discourse, which leads him to write his books in demonstrative language directed at the elite, not at the public. It is also evident from the fact that he initiated his project only upon the request of the Almohad ruler. On the other hand, Kant, as an advocate of the Enlightenment, has to communicate not only with princes and other thinkers, but also with the public. He does this by publishing some works with heavy metaphysical doctrines, which the public cannot understand, and others deliberately free from metaphysical doctrines in order to be accessible to the public. Furthermore, although he has strong ties with the political elite in his country, he shows on more than one occasion that his agenda goes beyond theirs when it comes to the Enlightenment.

5

MUTUAL DEPENDENCY OR SUPREME RATIONALITY? Reason and revelation in Averroes and Kant

The question of the relationship between reason and revelation is central to the philosophical projects of Averroes and Kant. It appears in both as a strategy serving their ultimate aims, but it is not the aim itself. For Kant, religious reform, exemplified in dealing with this question, is necessary to make sure that his philosophical project does not face the same fate as Wolff’s had. On the other hand, Averroes needs to address the question in order to prove the legal validity of studying philosophy in Islam, and so to pave the way for his pedagogical and theoretical philosophical project. This point is crucial in refuting the commonly held claim within contemporary Arab scholarship that Averroes’ account of the relationship between reason and revelation was a self-conscious attempt at promoting enlightened religious reform. However, the fact that Averroes did not deliberately intend, in either his declared aims or methodology, to advocate or promote an Arab-Islamic enlightenment does not mean that his work is of no use to those contemporary thinkers who do. If the content and conclusions of his philosophical project privilege reason over revelation or fulfil any of the other criteria set here to distinguish enlightenment thinking, their use and co-option into the Arab-Islamic enlightenment discourse can be intellectually justified. This necessitates a deeper comparison between the philosophical presuppositions of Averroes and Kant concerning the question of the relationship between reason and revelation and its political implications. Such a comparison will show that the contradictory ideological treatments of Averroes’ philosophical beliefs in contemporary Arab scholarship are not based on an accurate historical understanding. In this regard, there are two fundamental differences between Averroes and Kant. The first involves the authority of revelation, and the second the

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employment of reason. Where revelation is concerned, Averroes never challenges the authority that revelation lays claim to, but Kant denies such authority. For Averroes, revelation includes universal and divine truth, although it is interpreted rationally according to strict rules in which the clash between rationality and revelation is apparent. Kant, on the other hand, does not believe that revelation includes universal divine truth. He merely discovers a social and political validity in it. Accordingly, Kant gives reason a religious meaning, describing it as ‘pure religious faith’, an equivalent to natural religion and rational faith. His concept of ecclesiastical faith represents his formula for the relationship between reason and revelation as a progression towards the ideal of pure religious faith (reason alone) departing from the pseudo-service (revelation and tradition). The second fundamental difference concerns the employment of reason. While Kant uses it in the political domain, Averroes never does. Averroes restricts reason to being an activity for producing philosophy, and reason as logic. Kant agrees with Averroes about such uses of reason, but he adds one more function in the political domain: reason as the moral law, that is, the law of freedom. The deep differences between Averroes and Kant over the authority of revelation and the political employment of reason are reflected in four fundamental topics. These are crucial for showing that Averroes, unlike Kant, was not an early advocate of enlightenment. Two of these four topics, God and the highest good, are theoretical-religious questions. The remaining two, the theory of state and freedom, are political-ethical in nature. As Averroes does not challenge the authority that revelation claims for itself, and as he does not employ reason politically, he uses the political-ethical issues as a path to the theoretical-religious questions. This means that the ultimate aim of his philosophical enquiry is apolitical. Averroes’ philosophical system’s lack of an ultimate political aim does not fit the definition of enlightenment adopted in this book, which is of a political nature. Rather, as Kant denies the authority of revelation, and as he employs reason politically, he takes the opposite approach. He employs the two theoretical-religious issues as a means of leading to the two political-ethical issues. The differences between Averroes and Kant on these matters will be examined in the following pages. The way that these differences reflect on the two theoretical topics and the two political topics will also be analysed.

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The authority of revelation and the use of reason Both Averroes and Kant seek to reconcile revelation with reason by interpreting the first in a way that reconciles it with the second. There are, however, clear differences between them when it comes to why and how one should interpret a revealed text. These divergences indicate the different ways in which each philosopher conceives of the authority of revelation. Averroes, in the Fasl al-maqal, asserts that the studies of philosophy and law cannot contradict one another. Any clash between them is merely apparent and the perception of it will disappear with proper examination of the problem. This is why he introduces the theory of allegorical interpretation. In contrast, the clash between reason (the moral law) and revelation in Kant’s formula is intrinsic, not merely apparent: it involves going beyond allegorical interpretation. He admits this fact when denying the divinity of any religious text that does not fit the moral law – such as the whole of the Old Testament – and by imposing the rational moral law on the New Testament through his theory of forced interpretation. The concept of interpretation is used as a tool by Averroes to solve the clash between reason and revelation. He supposes this difference to be no more than an apparent one, founded on the literal meaning of particular verses in the Qur’an. Averroes’ law of interpretation has two methods: one is used with the clear verses and the other with the ambiguous ones. In both cases, he confirms the mutual dependency of reason and revelation in forming religious arguments, although he also asserts their distinctive nature. This mutual dependency shows that the words ‘religion’ and ‘revelation’ are not synonyms in Averroes’ thought. Revelation means only the revealed texts from the Qur’an or from the sayings of the Prophet. These revealed texts are interpreted according to, and obtain validity from, the teleology of the Islamic law, the Shari‘ah, or Maqasid al-shari‘ah and the expediency of al-Masalih al-mursalah, which are rational perceptions.1 The sum of this process of interaction between the revealed texts and rational perception constitutes religion. At the same time, this implies that, for Averroes, the words ‘reason’ and ‘philosophy’ are not synonymous: philosophy is a process of speculation, and reason is the result of that process of speculation. This indicates the influence of the Maliki school on the relationship between the terms ‘revelation’ and ‘religion’ on one side, and ‘reason’ and ‘philosophy’ on the other.

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Interpreting revelation in a way that reconciles it with reason is also a means employed by Kant. In order to harmonize empirical faith (revelation and tradition) with moral faith (reason) Kant insists in Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone that the first must be interpreted in a way that brings it into agreement with the universal practical rules of the religion of pure reason. Here, Kant asserts that there is no way of reconciling revelation with reason without a forced interpretation to remove any contradiction between them. This interpretation is based on the assumption that all the books that are considered holy aim at prompting the moral disposition of their followers. Therefore, there is a deep difference in the authority of revelation between Averroes’ and Kant’s theories of interpretation. Averroes never challenges the authority that revelation claims: revelation involves divine words that contain the ultimate and universal truth. Although he aims at including reason together with revelation in forming religion, he restricts the inclusion of the former using two rules. The first is that any allegorical interpretation must not violate the rules of the Arabic language. The second is that it must not violate the intents of Shari‘ah, which are rationally deduced from revelation. The fact that Averroes never challenges the authority of revelation claims is best exemplified by the way he argues in favour of the study of philosophy. This is stated in the Fasl al-maqal. Through his conception of the ‘activity of philosophy’, he divides the process of producing philosophy into producing anti-Islamic philosophy, an activity Averroes himself does not recognize as legal, and producing philosophy that is in harmony with Islam. Averroes maintains that the legitimate philosophy is the one that increases our knowledge of God. An increase in our knowledge of God is commanded by the law. As our knowledge of God cannot be obtained without studying what He has created in the world, and as the study of the world is best obtained by the study of philosophy, then, Averroes concludes that the study of philosophy is commanded by the law.2 He insists that the concept of philosophy is the study of beings and the observation of God’s greatness and wisdom. In this regard, Averroes criticizes Ghazali for not realizing this, and for extending his critique of some anti-Islamic convictions to condemning all philosophical ideas, even the study of philosophy as a whole. It reminds him that philosophers throughout history have shown sympathy with revealed

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religions – Judaism, Christianity and Islam – because reason alone cannot be the basis for a comprehensive faith.3 Kant’s account of the authority of revelation stands in contrast to that of Averroes. Firstly, Kant challenges the authority that revelation claims lays claim to by denying the divinity of the Old Testament and through his theory of forced interpretation. He argues in Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone that to prove the authenticity of the Old Testament is difficult without knowing Hebrew. However, the New Testament is more credible as it has come directly from the first teacher. As an indication of this selective tendency, which shows that he challenges the authority of revelation, Kant chooses the New Testament as the only source of Christianity. This is because it contains ethical ideas, and consequently relates to reason. Therefore, the role of scriptural scholarship is to maintain the authenticity of faith by maintaining the revealed texts. At the same time, its role is to improve the moral disposition of men through reason.4 Secondly, Kant’s account of the authority of revelation contrasts with that of Averroes in the way that Kant asserts the political validity of revelation. He insists that it is possible that the revealed texts include a divine revelation in their practical content. His pragmatic attitude to the Bible has been shown in Chapter 3. He explains that as such a revelation is ‘already at hand’, and another new divine revealed text is not expected, it is ‘reasonable’ to employ revelation as the basis for ecclesiastical faith and as an instrument to unite mankind into one religion. This can be achieved by interpreting it in ways that help to improve the moral disposition of men and to create good ‘citizens’. Moreover, Kant states in The Conflict of the Faculty that government is an institution based on reason, not revelation. It influences its subjects by controlling their eternal well-being (theology); their civil well-being (law); and their physical well-being (medicine). Therefore, Kant argues, the Bible is vital for government as it is the source of harmony within society.5 This shows that Kant, in contrast to Averroes, recognizes revelation merely for its political and social validity. If Kant does not give revelation the status of being the divine ultimate universal truth, he presents reason as the embodiment of these qualities. In this regard, Averroes and Kant do not contradict each other. Both men believe in ‘universal reason’ as a sign of the influence of Greek philosophy. They employ reason in religion in logical and philosophical ways. This is

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manifested in their philosophical projects through their formulation of the relationship between reason and revelation. At this point their differences regarding the authority of revelation are clearer. Averroes holds that the domains of reason and revelation are distinct from each other in their nature, but they are not separate. He asserts that the relationship between the two domains is based on mutual dependency, because reason depends on revelation to establish its legitimacy. He argues in both the Fasl al-maqal and Kashf that revelation calls for theoretical investigation. In its turn, revelation, which has established its legitimacy through the belief that it is revealed by God, depends on reason – and philosophers – to find its meaning. This is achieved through a process of categorization based on reason which the revealed texts undergo. The aim is to discover which of the verses are clear and which are ambiguous. Therefore, although Averroes includes reason in forming the religious arguments, he is still far from challenging the authority that revelation lays claim to. Kant’s account of the relationship between reason and revelation shows that although he denies the authority of revelation as the divine and true word of God, he still recognizes its political and social necessity. Unlike Averroes, he makes reason have a religious meaning: he calls it ‘pure religious faith’ and considers it to be an equivalent to natural religion and rational faith. In contrast to Averroes’ static formula for the relationship between reason and revelation, Kant’s concept of ‘ecclesiastical faith’ represents his formula for the relationship as a progression towards the ideal of pure religious faith – reason alone. This is different from the pseudoservice of revelation and tradition alone. This progressive process is shown in his distinction between the ‘true church’ and the ‘militant church’. The first is when historical faith is attached in harmony to pure religion, which makes its laws truly divine. Although for Kant the ‘true church’ is the ideal state of the relationship between reason and revelation, he introduces his conception of the ‘militant church’ to describe the actual status of that relationship when it progresses gradually towards being true and divine. A more profound reading of Kant’s account of the relationship between reason and revelation in his Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone reveals three instances of his denying the authority of revelation and installing reason as the embodiment of universal truth. The first is Kant’s distinction between the terms ‘religion’ and ‘faith’, the second is his

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distinction between two types of religion and the third is his conception of the ‘saving faith’. In distinguishing between religion and faith, Kant states that there is one true religion revealed through reason, and many ecclesiastical historical faiths based on rites and traditions.6 So, according to him, it is more accurate to describe someone as belonging to the Christian or Jewish faith than the Christian or Jewish religion. In Kant’s thought, the word ‘church’ does not seem to refer only to Christianity, but may refer to any form of union under the moral law. Kant admits that the common people do not distinguish between the two concepts, as the ecclesiastical historical faith is closer to their senses, while reason is hidden. Even religious wars, Kant argues, were waged merely in order to control the ecclesiastical historical faith, not religion. This is because the latter is a matter of inner disposition that nobody can claim to control. Kant even refers to the divisions within the Christian world between the Orthodox and Catholic churches. He then alludes to disagreements in the Western wing of this world between Catholics and Protestants as a struggle over ecclesiastical faith, not religion.7 Here, Kant contends that Christians, by being in disagreement with each other, show that they have failed to grasp or fulfil the original aim of Christianity, which was to establish a pure religious faith through reason in which there would be no conflicting opinions.8 However, he asserts that his own generation is the best time for Christianity as just such a pure religious faith is being gradually established.9 The term ‘historical’ here may mean it is restricted to a particular historical period, or it may mean it began at a particular historical moment and did not exist before it, or it may mean both. In this regard, and in order to show that revelation alone does not improve the moral disposition of men, Kant explains that the history of the early stages of Christianity was written by the Roman ‘learned-public’, who were known to show little interest in the beliefs of non-Romans.10 The result of this, Kant holds, was that the history of this stage of Christianity is now missing, and therefore we have no idea whether the early Christians ‘were morally improved men or just people of the common run’.11 The second example of Kant’s denial of the authority of revelation and his installation of reason as the embodiment of universal truth is that he distinguishes between two types of religions according to the universal potentiality of religion.12 The first is natural religion, of which ‘everyone can

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be convinced through his own reason’.13 The second is learned religion, of which ‘one can convince others only through the agency of learning’. Kant asserts that a religion cannot be considered universal unless it is capable of dissemination, and this means it should be natural and learned at the same time. This happens when people realize such a religion through their reason. However, Kant explains that they do not do this ‘so early’. Therefore, when they receive the revealed texts they apprehend them through their reason and believe them to be true.14 Thus, Kant concludes, when a religion is introduced publicly through revelation, and people believe in it through reason, it becomes a natural religion objectively and a learned religion subjectively. The kingdom of God can be achieved if the gradual transition from ecclesiastical faith to the universal religion of reason becomes general and public.15 Therefore, the first fundamental difference between Averroes and Kant lies in their views on the authority of revelation. For Averroes, revelation involves universal and divine truth, although it should be interpreted rationally according to strict rules. Kant, on the other hand, does not believe that revelation includes universal divine truth, and he finds it merely of social and political validity. This is a fundamental difference, and one which is mirrored when we consider their opinions on the use of reason. The philosophers agree that there are two main spheres of reason, or domains in which it can be employed: logical and philosophical.16 The logical use of reason is seen in Averroes’ thought when he attempts a legal justification of the study of philosophy and the study of ancient books in the first chapter of the Fasl al-maqal. He employs a legal argument based on Aristotelian syllogistic reasoning. In his turn, Kant, who describes reason as our highest faculty, maintains that reason can be employed in a logical way in order to examine the form of knowledge without its content. The second and more important use of reason is philosophical. Averroes and Kant agree that reason can be used philosophically in the areas of nature and religion. Averroes’ philosophical employment of reason in nature is seen in his argument in Fasl al-maqal justifying the study of philosophy. Here, he presents the philosophical study of nature as leading to better knowledge of God. For him, the activity of philosophy is ‘nothing more than study of existing beings and reflection on them as indications of the Artisan’, which means that the study of philosophy is

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commanded by the Law.17 His use of reason in nature can also be seen in his adaptation of Aristotle’s natural philosophy including the law of causality. This was rejected by many Muslim thinkers. In the case of Ghazali it was for religious reasons, and with Farabi and Avicenna due to the influence of Neoplatonism. In the Critique of Pure Reason Kant refers to the philosophical employment of reason as the transcendental and real use of reason. For him, reason is a source of particular types of concepts and principles that do not relate either to the understanding or to the senses. In this regard, reason is the faculty that secures the unity of the rules of understanding under principles. It also seeks to discover the universal condition that is the conclusion of the minor premise (the judgement). As the principles of pure reason are universal, logically they are unconditioned. The result of this is that they are always synthetic. Furthermore, they are transcendent. The discovery of the universality of knowledge according to concepts is therefore the function of reason in Kant’s thought. Kant, in opposition to Averroes, adds one more crucial philosophical use of reason, one that Averroes never does: the political use of reason. This is one of the fundamental differences between Averroes and Kant and, together with the differences on the authority of revelation, it is crucial in determining why Averroes, unlike Kant, was not an early advocate of enlightenment through the four theoretical and political implications. The political employment of reason does not merely refer to rational speculation on political phenomena, such as the justification of the state, the idea of freedom or the questions of peace and war, although Averroes does discuss these in his writings. Rather, it refers to rational speculation about an ultimately political aim, which is absent from Averroes’ writings. Ultimately, his discussion of political phenomena is in pursuit of apolitical aims such as pedagogy or metaphysics. In contrast, the aim of Kant’s philosophical project is distinctly political, and this is why he employs reason politically. As became clear in Chapter 3, there are two main indications of Kant’s political employment of reason. The first is his denial of the validity of deriving the moral law (the law of freedom) from experience: that is, from the nature of man. For him, as the moral law has an absolute necessity, it must be determined a priori. This means that the a priori moral law provides the nature of man with

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the a priori ‘ideal’, which can be the standard for our acts. Even the moral example of Christ needs to be compared with an a priori ideal of morality. It is clear that Kant, by making such a comparison, aimed to protect the idea of freedom as his political ideal from being deconstructed by empiricists. The second indication is the superiority of practical reason over speculative reason in Kant’s thought. This is shown in his treatment of the postulates of pure reason: God, immortality and freedom. He explains in both the Critique of Pure Reason and the Critique of Practical Reason that these ideas are transferred from being subjectively necessary in the speculative employment of reason, to being objectively necessary through the practical employment of reason. These three postulates are ideas of pure reason, which means that they do not relate to the world of sense via intuition. However, Kant gives them their objective reality only through practical reason. This shows that after protecting the ideal of freedom as his political ideal from being deconstructed by empirical experience, Kant moves on to give it an objective reality by placing practical reason before speculative reason. It is evident that while Kant challenges the authority of revelation claims, recognizing merely its sociopolitical validity and the use of reason in the political domain, Averroes neither challenges the authority of revelation, nor employs reason politically.

Theoretical and political implications The deep disagreement between Averroes and Kant over the authority of revelation and the political employment of reason is seen in theoreticalreligious issues (God and the highest good) on the one hand, and politicalethical issues (the theories of state and freedom) on the other. As Averroes does not challenge the authority revelation lays claim to, and as he does not employ reason politically, he uses the two political-ethical matters only as a means of serving the two theoretical-religious ones. This absence of ultimate political aims in his thought means that he is not an early enlightener, as enlightenment is an intellectual activity of a political nature. In contrast, as Kant denies the authority of revelation, and as he employs reason politically, he does exactly the opposite: he uses the two theoreticalreligious issues as a means of serving the two political-ethical ones.

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God The idea of God is the main theoretical-religious implication of the fundamental difference between Averroes and Kant concerning the authority of revelation and the employment of reason. Averroes, who accepts revelation’s authority, argues that the existence of God as an objective reality is unquestionable. He also asserts that knowledge of God is the ultimate aim of any activity of philosophy in nature. In contrast, Kant, who denies the authority of revelation, employs the idea of God instrumentally. For him, it is a mere ‘ideal’ that helps systematize the physical world. Its objective reality from the standpoint of pure speculative reason is doubtful. The differences between Averroes and Kant on the use of reason are also reflected in the way they conceive and employ the idea of God. While Averroes employs political ideas as an instrument to lead to God and knowledge of Him, the idea of God occupies a central and instrumental position in Kant’s political employment of reason. He holds that the idea of God is needed by humans in order to lead them towards perfection through the enforcement of the moral law. This means that while God is the ultimate aim for Averroes’ thought, in Kant’s political ideal it is the main instrument for the idea of freedom. As Averroes accepts the authority of revelation, the existence of God as an objective reality cannot be questioned. Averroes presents God as the goal of any activity of philosophy in nature. This is seen through Averroes’ argument in favour of the study of philosophy, and through his argument on the proof of the existence of God. With regard to the first, Averroes asserts that the study of philosophy is commanded by the Law because it leads to people increasing their knowledge of God through studying what He has created in the world. In the second, Averroes presents God as the ultimate aim of his philosophy when he proves the existence of God through a study of man in the Kashf. In this regard he asserts the teleological meaning of the creation. This teleological meaning refers, in this argument in particular, to two main principles.18 The first is the idea that the world has been created for the sake of man – providing him with the things necessary for his existence, such as the creation of night and day and so on – which he calls the ‘argument of providence’. The second is the idea that there are substances that have been invented for man, such as life, sense-perception and intellect, which he calls the ‘argument of invention’.

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Then, after a rational introduction to these two arguments, Averroes moves on to employ some of the verses that have been categorized under either the argument of providence or the argument of invention. Thus, in both cases, Averroes presents nature and man as a means leading towards God. Consequently, those contemporary Arab thinkers, like Hanafi, who want to rediscover and revive elements in the Arab-Islamic heritage that concentrate on man instead of on God through Averroes are mistaken. Averroes’ views on God contrast with those of Kant. The latter’s views are the main result of the position of revelation in his philosophy. Kant explains that the necessary being can be known by reason and by revelation.19 In the Critique of Pure Reason he is interested only in examining the first way. He demonstrates that there are two ways of knowing the necessary being through reason: by pure reason (called transcendental theology) and by concepts borrowed from nature (called natural theology). Transcendental theology proves the existence of the necessary being through experience in general, as is the case in cosmological proof, or through concepts alone, as is the case in ontological proof. By contrast, natural theology proves the existence of the necessary being through determining the object of its concept accurately in nature, as a being which contains in itself the basis for everything else. While the transcendental proof represents the necessary being as the cause of the world, the natural one represents him as the author of the world. In his detailed discussion of these conventional proofs in his Critique of Pure Reason, Kant shows that the objective reality of the necessary being cannot be proved by reason. However, it also shows that it cannot be disproved. Therefore, the idea of the necessary being for pure reason ‘remains a mere ideal, it is yet an ideal without a flaw, a concept which completes and crowns the whole of human knowledge’.20 In Kant’s philosophy the natural, or physical, way to know God through the speculative employment of pure reason uses God as a mere linguistic device to understand nature. The second way that God is viewed in Kant’s philosophy is moral. It is through the practical employment of reason that the idea of God finds its objective reality. Here, Kant, in contrast to Averroes, demonstrates his political employment of reason by using an apolitical idea: for example, that of God serving his ultimate political aim. He explains that the idea of God cannot belong to physics because it does not correspond to any

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intuition.21 Neither does it belong to metaphysics because, according to the regulative principle of reason, a complete knowledge of this world and the other world is needed.22 In contrast, the moral law, as it involves the idea of the eternal, omniscient, omnipresent and omnipotent Being to judge who is worthy to be happy, involves the existence of God.23 Furthermore, as the moral law involves the idea of the highest good, it conceives of the First Being as the Supreme Being. Therefore, Kant concludes, the concept of God belongs neither to physics nor to metaphysics, but to morals. As an indication of the instrumental function of the idea of God leading to his idea of freedom, Kant explains that creation corresponds merely with things in themselves, not with the appearances of those things.24 As existence in time relates only to things as appearances, so it is a contradiction to say that God is the creator of things as appearances, or to say that He is the first cause of the natural series. By asserting that God is only the creator of the things in themselves, not the things as appearances, Kant believes that he can save the idea of the freedom of rational beings without contradicting it with the idea of natural necessity. His solution is consistent with his idea of the subjectivity of space and time stated in his Critique of Pure Reason. This also contradicts Spinoza’s theory that space and time (including ourselves) are dependent on God, not by our substances but by our appearances.25 This also places Kant in opposition to the idea that space and time are prior to God’s cause of existence, which makes the latter conditioned by them.26 He argues that in the practical employment of reason we are interested only in Him as a moral Governor of the world, not in His nature.27 In this regard, pure religious belief represents God: (1) as the omnipotent Creator of heavens and earth, i.e., morally as holy Legislator, (2) as Preserver of the human race, its benevolent Ruler and moral Guardian, (3) as Administrator of His own holy laws, i.e., as righteous Judge.28

This shows that ecclesiastical faith, freed from anthropomorphism and in harmony with pure religion, must present God firstly as not merciful in indulging mankind; and secondly, not despotic in having unconditioned rights and arbitrary laws.29 Rather, He governs the world through laws relating to morality and directed at the holiness of humanity. Secondly, His

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beneficence is not unconditional. It is only for those who are satisfactory to Him. Thirdly, and as a consequence, His justice is not exorable, but is conditioned by conformity with the moral law. Kant argues that a mystery transcending reason will result from shifting the above beliefs from the practical employment of reason to the domain of the speculative one.30 This is because in these circumstances these ideas will not have any practical validity. He explains that the conceptions of virtues and of Godlessness relate to each other.31 The former is self-sufficient, but the latter is a means to the former because it gives the idea of the highest good its meaning. Kant shows that fear of God involves being obedient to Him as a duty, while the love of God involves being obedient to Him as a free choice.32 Kant, nevertheless, holds that morality does not need either a Being over man or an incentive in addition to its laws.33 This is because it is based on the conception of man as a free agent who links himself, through his practical reason, to an unconditional law. This means that even if man needs a Being over himself, or another incentive in addition to (or instead of) the moral law, it must be through himself and his freedom, and not external to these two. However, Kant shows that even if morality is a selfsufficient system of commands and has no end except duty, it is linked necessarily with another end, not as a ground for determining the will, but as the necessary result of complying with the moral law.34 This latter end appears to answer the question: ‘What is to result from this right conduct of ours?’35 Therefore, if morality tells us how to behave, this latter end tells us what the result of our right behaviour is. As this end is called the highest good, it involves the existence of God, and consequently of religion. Kant asserts that what he calls the ‘highest prize’ of the morally well-disposed man on earth is merely freedom from sin and a life spent seeking righteousness.36 This is the way he articulates the relationship between religion and morality.37 The employment of God to serve Kant’s moral philosophy, and then his political project, can be seen through two examples of his writing. The first is through his link between the moral law, God and religion. Kant defines the subjective account of religion as the ‘recognition of all duties as divine commands’. He derives two results from this definition: the first is that religion does not involve an assertive knowledge of the objective reality of the existence of God, because we cannot prove such an existence by

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the speculative employment of reason. Rather, Kant asserts, what religion involves is merely the ‘idea of God’,38 which gives meaning to the idea of the highest good, and therefore has a practical usefulness. The second is that religion is not a cluster of duties that man must fulfil for God. Rather, it is a cluster of duties between men themselves. The moral law, Kant explains, is the divine revelation of reason. The second example that demonstrates that Kant’s employment of God serves his moral philosophy is when he compares Greek and Christian schools of morality. For him, the Greeks fail to solve the problem of the practical possibility of the highest good because of the lack of the idea of God in their thoughts. On the other hand, Christian ethics meets the demand of pure practical reason through its concept of the ‘kingdom of God’, which brings nature in harmony with morality through an Author of existence. The idea of God, therefore, is a theoretical conception employed by the two philosophers in different ways. It is based on their attitudes towards the authority of revelation as well as the possible use of reason in their thoughts. Averroes, who accepts the authority of revelation and does not employ reason politically, considers that the existence of God as an objective reality is unquestionable. He also believes that knowledge about God, which is an apolitical idea, is the ultimate aim of any activity of philosophy in nature. On the other hand, Kant, who denies the authority of revelation and employs reason politically, uses the idea of God as an instrument leading to his political ideal: freedom.

The highest good The issue of the highest good is the second theoretical-religious implication of the disagreement between Averroes and Kant over the authority of revelation and the political employment of reason. It is the subject of a deep divergence between Averroes and Kant, in which their disagreement about some of the fundamental conceptions such as the idea of God and freedom is also revealed. While Kant’s conception of the highest good is employed to serve his ultimate political aim, Averroes’ asserts the theoretical character of his conception of the highest good. This conception in Averroes’ thought is apolitical. Averroes, unlike Aristotle, does not see rhetoric as a mode of

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discourse used by political leaders to persuade the public about policies. He sees rhetoric as a mode of discourse used by the philosophical elite to address theoretical subjects to the public. The need for theoretical subjects exists because obtaining theoretical knowledge is the way to achieve human perfection, and, as Averroes states, everyone should try to get as close to human perfection as they can. Furthermore, the concept of the highest good in Averroes’ thought is not a public one. For him, the highest good is the stage of human perfection is reached only by those who master the theoretical sciences, and as mastering these subjects is the privilege of an intellectual elite, reaching this stage of human perfection is not possible for the majority of the people. As Averroes’ conception of the highest good is theoretical, apolitical and not directed at the public, he cannot be considered to be an advocate of enlightenment. The ultimate aim for an enlightener’s intellectual activities must be political. In contrast to this, the concept of the highest good in Kant’s philosophy is not religious-theoretical; it is moral-political. Furthermore, it is accessible to the majority of members of society. These two characteristics of Kant’s conception of the highest good qualify him as an advocate of enlightenment. He mobilizes the public through a political ideal toward sociopolitical reforms based on philosophical insight. This can be seen through Kant’s distinction between two meanings of the ‘highest good’. The first is that the term refers to the ‘supreme good’, which according to him means ‘the unconditional condition, i.e., the condition which is subordinate to no other’.39 The second is that the highest good refers to the ‘perfect good’, which Kant defines as ‘that whole which is no part of a yet larger whole of the same kind’.40 Kant then explains that as morality is the worthiness to be happy, so it is the supreme condition of our actions. Therefore, it is the supreme good. Alone, however, it is not perfect. Happiness is what makes it a perfect whole. This means that the highest good in Kant’s thought is a combination of morality, which is identical with the idea of freedom, his political idea, and happiness, under the condition that morality is the supreme good. Kant asserts that the highest good is practical for us, which means that it must be made real by our will.41 In arguing that it is our highest end, he implies that it is practically possible.42 Therefore, Kant’s highest good is both public and is employed to serve his ultimate aim, which is political.

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The state Averroes and Kant differ in their theories of the ideal state, its purpose and its practical possibility as a political implication of their dispute over the authority of revelation on the one side, and over the employment of reason on the other. As Averroes does not challenge the authority of revelation, and as he does not employ reason politically, his theory of the ideal state, its purpose and its practical possibility are linked with theoreticalreligious conceptions; that is, God and the highest good. In other words, he presents the ideal state, its purpose and its practical possibility as political conceptions that ultimately serve theoretical-religious aims. The lack of an ultimate political aim in Averroes’ philosophical insight is a crucial factor in not considering him to be an advocate of enlightenment. On the other hand, as Kant denies the authority of revelation, and as he employs reason politically, his conception of the ideal state, its purpose and its practical possibility originates from reason alone. This gives Kant’s account of the issues of the ideal state, its purpose and its practical possibility two characteristics that distinguish it fundamentally from Averroes’ account. The first is that as Kant’s account originates from reason, he presents the ideal state, its purpose and its practical possibility as ideal, not empirical conceptions and entities. The second is that, since reason in Kant’s philosophical system is equivalent to the moral law, he presents the ideal state, its purpose and its practical possibility as political conceptions. It is an entity ultimately serving political aims, not theoretical or religious ones. This is a crucial factor in considering him to be an advocate of enlightenment, which is of a political nature. The first issue is that of the account each philosopher gives of the theory of the ideal state. While Kant’s conception of the ideal state is based on the conception of justice as a normative and political one, Averroes’ approach is based on his conception of human perfection as a theoretical one. The latter is connected to the need of every individual of the help for others in acquiring human perfection. It also involves his conception of self-preservation as a natural empirical need, which refers to the need of every individual for the help of others in acquiring the necessities of life. Kant clearly differs from Averroes on this point. He rejects the religious origin and the self-preservation theories of the state. His conception of the state is based on a normative conception of the ideal state, and this leads him

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to synthesize his ethics with his politics, unlike Machiavelli. Furthermore, unlike the theory of states in the Middle Ages, which developed the idea of a religious purpose for the state, and unlike Hobbes, who developed the concept of self-preservation as its purpose, Kant’s purpose was to establish justice by establishing a republican constitution. He points out that people are the lawgivers in the political commonwealth because they represent the general will. They relinquish some of their freedom in order to be under the common law, which represents the external legal control. If Kant agrees with Hobbes on the question of the political state of nature, he is clearly influenced by Rousseau – and, to a lesser degree, Locke – in explaining how to leave it in order to establish the ethical commonwealth. On the other hand, such an external legal control in the ethical commonwealth is impossible, because the sole aim of establishing such a commonwealth is to maintain morality, which is an inner not an outer matter.43 Again, Kant disagrees with Hobbes on the representation of the kingdom of God on earth.44 For him, it is not based on a Messianic revealed covenant, but on a moral rational one. It is not, therefore, based on history and it does not relate either to the old or the new covenant for its historical proof. Rather, it is based on morality and reason.45 Thus, Kant insists that the lawgiver here must be the ‘one who knows the heart’.46 For Kant, this result shows firstly the practical necessity for the existence of God, and secondly that the moral law is necessarily the divine command. Kant asserts that the juridicocivil laws that govern the political commonwealth can be divine so long as they do not contradict the moral law. This makes obeying them a duty.47 Thus, the ideal state in Kant’s thought is established through the objective coincidence of morality and politics. It is important to note that, although Kant rejects the self-preservation theory that Averroes holds to be true, he could not ignore the role it plays in the actual formation of any state. This pushes him to attempt to reconcile it with his normative conception of the formation of the state. This is done by introducing his concept of unsocial sociability, which refers to man’s tendency to live in society to fulfil his basic needs and, at the same time, his tendency to live as an individual in order to manage everything according to his own ideas.48 Kant introduces his conception of right as a conceptual unity between freedom and authority. The universal principle of right is ‘Every action which by itself or by its maxim enables the freedom

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of each individual’s will to co-exist with the freedom of everyone else in accordance with a universal law is right.’49 The social contract is central to Kant’s political thought because it joins moral autonomy and political authority in a conceptual unity. The practical possibility of the ideal state is linked to its conception in the mind of both philosophers. Kant presents the ideal state as a regulative ideal conception. So, he does not provide an example of any ideal state that has existed in the past. Neither does he show that an ideal state will exist in the future. On the other hand, Averroes’ ideal state had been found in the past, and another, or others, will exist in the future. Averroes’ commitment to Islamic revelation turns into a commitment to Islamic history. For him, the ideal state was found in the first Islamic state of the Prophet and his four successors, and the first stage of the Almoravid regime. The common features of these states were that they were both based on the Islamic law in their purest sense; they both used war as a way of spreading their ideology, Islam, outside their original territories and they both could be described as ascetic: money never played a significant role in their life. These three similarities can be seen as the Rushdian practical equivalent of the Platonic virtues. Wisdom is fulfilled by the implementation of Islamic law, and courage by the protection of the state and by a tendency to spread the superior ideology of both communities to the world. Temperance is fulfilled by the ascetic character of the rulers and the citizens of the two states. Justice is fulfilled by the unity of both societies and by the sum of all the previous virtues. Averroes does not differ from Plato on the features that such a state must adhere to, but he does diverge from him in the practical translation of these features into reality. It is not merely a regulative conception, as Kant’s ideal state is. Averroes also seems to believe that an ideal state will exist in the future. This could be because, if he had advanced Plato’s idea of the impossibility of the existence of the ideal state, the new regime led by Abu Yahya would not aim at establishing such a state in the first place. Or, a more credible reason for this belief relates to the historical and legal Islamic context, which goes deeper than Averroes’ historical condition. Averroes himself asserts that the ideal state, in its Islamic definition, has already existed several times in history, and this implies a high possibility of its existing again. Such a possibility is increased by Averroes’ teleological conception of history, which is

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held as a result of his teleological conception of existence. This is explained in detail in the Kashf. One important expression of Averroes’ teleological conception of history is his assertion that the existence of the ideal state is possible. This is because it is clear that his conception of such a state is influenced by Islam, which has, in turn, inherited the idea of the ideal state in its principles. This is perhaps derived from the idea of the coming of the Messiah and the prevalence of the true religion – Islam – before the Day of Judgement. As a devout Muslim, Averroes was influenced by this idea. He may have felt obliged to hold the belief that, because an ideal state used to exist in Medina under the leadership of the Prophet, another ideal state would exist in the future under the leadership of the Messiah. For Kant, the ideal state is merely an ideal: it did not exist in the past, nor will it exist in the future. This argument is based on his account of the relationship between morality and politics and it can be divided into the objective (ideal or abstract) and subjective (practical). Objectively, he asserts that there will not be any conflict between morality, which is the theoretical precept of right, and politics, which is the practical precept of right. From a subjective (practical) standpoint, however, the conflict between morality and politics does occur. This is because, as Kant explains, some members of society do not join others in forming the general will that establishes the republican constitution and leads to perpetual peace. This means that a gap will be created between morality and politics, and here is the precise reason why Kant’s conception of the ideal state is not practically possible. This subjective conflict relates to the conflict between good and evil. It will be endless, and this will motivate the goodness in man to combat evil and be morally improved. Kant’s argument on the relationship between morality and politics is rooted in his account of the nature of man, and the endless struggle between good and evil in mankind. This practical impossibility of the ideal state is reflected in Kant’s distinction between the juridico-civil commonwealth and its state of nature, and the ethical-civil commonwealth and its state of nature. He defines the juridico-civil commonwealth, the political commonwealth, as the ‘relation of men to each other in which they all alike stand socially under public juridical laws’.50 These laws are imposed by coercion. On the other hand, he defines the ethical-civil commonwealth as the relation of men to each other ‘in which they are united under non-coercive laws, i.e.,

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laws of virtues alone’. Each commonwealth has its constitution and principles. Kant explains that the establishment of the political commonwealth is a precondition for the establishment of the ethical commonwealth.51 Therefore, the constitution of the latter must not violate the constitution of the former and must respect its limits.52 This shows that the constitution of the ethical commonwealth must not violate the duty that every citizen owes to his political commonwealth. Additionally, as membership of the ethical-civil commonwealth is not coercive, it does not include all the members (that is, the citizens) of the political commonwealth. Kant agrees with Hobbes that the political state of nature is the war of all against all. Kant defines the ethical state of nature as the condition of ‘open conflict between principles of virtue and a state of inner immorality’.53 It is, then, the condition that a natural man ought to abandon as soon as possible in order to join the ethical commonwealth.54 This means that, after the establishment of the political commonwealth, the members are free to join the ethical one or to remain in an ethical state of nature.55 Nevertheless, as compliance with the moral law is a universal duty, it is applicable to the ethical commonwealth. Unlike the political commonwealth, this is also universal and has no such borders. However, Kant asserts that the universality of the ethical commonwealth does not contradict its social peculiarity within each society. This is to lead to the harmony of each ethical commonwealth in the world, and to the improvement of the moral disposition of the whole human race. Kant introduces a crucial difference between the two commonwealths with regard to the lawgivers of each. He says that, while reason is the lawgiver in the ethical commonwealth, people are the lawgivers in the political commonwealth. The people represent the general will, and they relinquish some of their freedom in order to be under the common law, which represents the external legal control over them.56 Averroes does not distinguish between morality and politics. This is evident from his conception of the ideal state, and from his conception of its purpose. However, this divergence of Averroes’ and Kant’s views on the relationship between morality and politics does not emerge from their disagreement over the relationship between reason and revelation. Similarly to Kant, a distinction between morality and politics is also expressed in the Islamic philosophical tradition. Among those who are

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influenced by the Stoic, and Socratic, ethical thinkers are Kindi and Rhazes (al-Razi) (d. 925).57 Farabi, influenced by Aristotle and Neoplatonism,58 was the first within the Islamic philosophical tradition to reject this separation between morality and politics. In this regard, he was followed by Avempace and Averroes.59 Furthermore, Averroes, influenced by Ibn Tumart and the theology of the Mu‘tazila, adopts a deontological conception of morality based on reason rather than revelation.60 This shows that the difference between Averroes and Kant over the relationship between reason and morality does not originate from their views on the authority of revelation and the political employment of reason, although it is increased by it. Rather, it originates from the different sources of Greek philosophy that influenced them. The authority of revelation is clearly reflected in Averroes’ account of the purpose of the ideal state when he makes the religious concept of the holy war (jihad) the purpose of it. As a result of Averroes’ teleological conception of existence, he argues that it is necessary for the ideal state to have a purpose for its existence. He cites Plato in his argument that the ideal state must seek ‘happiness’ and defines this quality as ‘an action belonging to the rational soul [performed] with virtue’. This definition shows that happiness is the ultimate purpose of the ideal state. However, it is linked exclusively with its ruling elite, the philosophers, because they have rational souls. Consequently, and as a result of the universal character of Averroes’ ideal state, the ability of the ideal state to wage wars is a central one in Averroes’ thought. He even asserts that the ability to wage a holy war is one of the qualities that must be present in the ruler, or rulers, of the ideal state. But even within the theoretical frame, the importance of war in Averroes’ thought has further significance. It shows the universal character of the ideal state, which is influenced deeply by the idea of jihad. Averroes thinks of the ideal state as having a missionary aim, seeking to spread its superior ideology to the universe by either peaceful or warlike means. Averroes explains that one of the two functions of the ideal state is to launch war against imperfect states in order to establish virtue in the souls of its people. This attitude to the purpose of war clearly finds its roots in the idea of jihad, which is aimed at spreading Islam as a universal teaching. This is shown in his legal book Bidayat al-mujtahid, where he expresses a typical juridical Maliki attitude in legal language addressed to the public. Here, he insists

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that the reason for war is to expand the Islamic state, both by subjecting non-Muslims (by giving tributes) and spreading Islam. Kant rejects the concept of rational or empirical happiness as a purpose of the ideal state. In contrast, he asserts that achieving as great a harmony as possible between morality and politics is its purpose. He points out that men can easily corrupt each other by envy, the pursuit of power, authority and greed.61 Therefore, he believes that people must form an alliance between themselves in order to maintain good and combat evil.62 This alliance, Kant explains, should be an institution working through each society, leading eventually to the dominance of the moral law over the whole human race.63 For him, this is the only way to maintain the law and combat evil. He shows that the ethical union of people under the moral law is the church, which it is the duty of political authority to promote and not to obstruct. Kant distinguishes between the church invisible, which is ‘a mere idea of the union of all righteous under direct and moral divine worldgovernment, an idea serving all as the archetype of what is to be established by men’, and the visible church, which is the ‘actual union of men into a whole which harmonizes with the ideal’.64 He determines four main features of the true visible church in order to represent the moral kingdom of God. The first is universality, which refers to its unity regarding fundamental principles, although a disagreement over inessential opinion can be overcome.65 The second is its nature as a union of men for the sake of one pure aim: the maintenance of morality on earth.66 The third is that the relationship among its members and its relationship with the political authority are based on freedom. Kant here describes the church as a free institution that allows its members to receive different inspiration, reflecting the differences between them.67 The fourth is concerned with the modality. This refers to the immutability of its constitution, although Kant asserts that flexibility in its organization and administration is needed. However, he argues that some a priori settled principles must be recognized and should never be changed. Kant concludes by claiming that the true visible church is not a kingdom, aristocracy or republic, but a family with a moral Father who has sent his Son as an example for us to imitate and so improve our moral disposition.68 To sum up, as Averroes does not challenge the authority of revelation and does not employ reason politically, his theory of the ideal state, its

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purpose and its practical possibility is employed to serve his theoreticalreligious conceptions of God and the highest good. This is crucial in showing that Averroes’ ultimate philosophical aim is apolitical, which means that he cannot be seen as an enlightener. In contrast, as Kant denies the authority of revelation, and as he employs reason politically, his conception of the ideal state, its purpose and its practical possibility is derived from reason alone. This means that he presents the ideal state, its purpose and its practical possibility as an ideal, not an empirical conception and entity. As reason in Kant’s philosophical system is equivalent to the moral law, as an enlightener he presents the ideal state, its purpose and its practical possibility as political conceptions and entities ultimately serving a political aim, not a theoretical or religious one.

Freedom The issue of freedom is the second political implication of the difference between Averroes and Kant over the authority of revelation on one hand, and the employment of reason on the other. The previous discussion69 has shown that the ultimate aim of Kant’s thought is political; it concerns the law of freedom. For Kant, the concept of freedom aims at setting the relationship between men as individuals, not between man and God. This means that Kant’s conception of freedom is a political one. Furthermore, Kant attempts to present his concept of freedom to the public by addressing some of his writings and lectures on this issue to them. These include his Critique of Practical Reason, and ‘What is Enlightenment?’ The works are addressed to the public in simple language, revealing that Kant’s conception of freedom is a public one. These political and public characteristics of Kant’s conception of freedom mark him out as an advocate of enlightenment as he tries to mobilize the public by a political ideal towards sociopolitical reforms based on philosophical insight. In contrast, the conception of freedom in Averroes’ thought is apolitical: it intends to establish the relationship between God and man, not between men themselves. He introduces his conception of freedom in the Kashf as a means of reconciling conflicting theological and rational arguments about the relationship between God and man. As Averroes’ concept of freedom does not relate to the relationship between people, he

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cannot be seen to use it to serve a political aim. The fact that his concept is theoretical, apolitical and not directed at the public means he cannot be considered to be an advocate of enlightenment.

Two very different thinkers This comparison of beliefs shows that the fundamental differences between the thought of Averroes and Kant concern the authority of revelation, and the employment of reason. Averroes never challenges the authority of revelation. For him, revelation includes universal and divine truths, although it is interpreted rationally according to strict rules of interpretation. Averroes limits the meaning of reason to reason as an activity for producing philosophy, and reason as logic. On the other hand, Kant denies the authority of revelation. He does not believe that revelation includes universal divine truth, but finds in it merely social and political values. This persuades him to give reason a religious meaning, calling it ‘pure religious faith’. It is an equivalent of natural religion and rational faith. His concept of ecclesiastical faith represents his formula for the relationship between reason and revelation as a progressive procession toward the ideal of pure religious faith – reason alone – departing from the pseudo-service – revelation and tradition. Furthermore, Kant, who agrees with Averroes on the two employments of reason, also uses it in the political domain: reason as the moral law, or the law of freedom. The profound differences between Averroes and Kant over the authority of revelation and the political employment of reason are revealed in four fundamental issues. Two of them, God and the highest good, are theoretical-religious issues. The other two, the theory of state and freedom, are political-ethical issues. As Averroes does not challenge the authority that revelation lays claim to, and as he does not employ reason politically, he uses the two political-ethical issues as a means serving the two theoretical-religious ones. In contrast, as Kant denies the authority of revelation, and as he employs reason politically, he does exactly the opposite: he employs the two theoretical-religious issues as a means of serving the two political-ethical ones.

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CONCLUSION Searching for enlightenment

The so-called Arab Spring and its concomitant upheaval and revolutionary violence have drawn widespread attention to the confrontation between the Islamic state and secularism, tradition and modernization, ‘authentic’ Islamic values and those of the Western world. In fact, these concerns have preoccupied the Arab-Islamic world since the nineteenth century. The Arab-Islamic world’s failure to match the economic and military dominance of the Western world is widely traced to the absence of that flowering of scientific, intellectual and aesthetic creativity in Europe known as the Enlightenment. Whether intellectuals are searching for a reason to explain why the Arab-Islamic world has yet to experience a similar cultural ‘great leap forward’ or whether they are trying to understand in what form and for what reasons it might happen in the future, there has been no more pivotal figure in this discursive maelstrom than Averroes. The twelfth-century polymath’s life and work touches upon so many issues crucial to the debate about Arab-Islamic enlightenment that this centrality is understandable. What this book has demonstrated, however, is that in scholars’ haste to claim Averroes and his intellectual and cultural gravitas for their particular ideological cause, the complexity, nuance and substance of his thought has too often been ignored in favour of a reductive characterization of him as an early enlightenment figure – even the first ‘enlightened Arab’. Historical examination of Averroes’ philosophical project – his account of the relationship between reason and revelation, and the implications of this relationship for the political sphere – has refuted this widely held claim. In drawing a definition of enlightenment from the paradigmatic Western Enlightenment figure Immanuel Kant – a mobilization of the public towards sociopolitical reforms by means of a political ideal or set of ideals based on philosophical insight – and measuring Averroes’

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work against that of Kant, it has been shown that Averroes’ philosophical system does not meet any of the requirements of this neutral definition of enlightenment or ‘enlightened philosophy’. Averroes’ ultimate aims were not political, and his philosophical project does not establish or adapt a political ideal, nor set out to launch a programme of sociopolitical reforms. His works were addressed to and written for the tiny group at the pinnacle of the sociopolitical elite, not a literate public that did not exist. This group treated philosophy as a rarefied intellectual pursuit, a kind of sophisticated decadence. If philosophy were to stray out of this niche and participate in any wider sense in public life, it would be swiftly cut down to size again. Assuming that because Averroes suffered at the end of his life from this attitude he was opposed to it is intellectually naive and ignores the full scope and rigour of his work. The contemporary Arab enlightenment debate still bears the hallmarks of the split that emerged in the second half of the nineteenth century, dividing Arab thinkers engaged in the debate about modernity into two main camps, Westernized and authentic. Each one has attempted to provide a valid answer to the major question of Arab enlightenment based on their views of the Arab-Islamic heritage and of enlightenment. Within this debate, the Islamic philosophers who lived during the period of the rise of the Arab-Islamic civilization before the fifteenth century acquired a special importance. This is because the pioneers of Arab modernity from all discourses saw in them the necessary intellectual authority that could be re-employed to support their arguments in the ideological debates of their time. Among these Islamic philosophers, Averroes was considered to be particularly important. Firstly, it was believed that his work contributed greatly to the rise of the West. Secondly, there was great interest in his intention to reconcile reason and revelation, an ongoing debate in Arab thought that has crucial political implications for the question of Arab enlightenment. Within this debate, Averroes has been re-employed by the different intellectual discourses in order to provide answers to the question of Arab enlightenment. In the Westernized discourse, and because of his account of the relationship between reason and revelation, Averroes is seen as the early Arab advocate of a cluster of Western-universal values such as secularism. While Farah Anton, for example, saw in him an early

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advocate of secularism, tolerance, and even neutrality between religions, Salamah Musa and Qasim Amin presented him as a liberator of women. The re-employment of Averroes by the advocates of the Westernized discourse has continued into the contemporary era with the work of the postmodernist Muhammad Arkoun. He asserts that Averroes took part in a struggle towards humanism. Arkoun claims that Averroes believed in the ability of reason to produce a truth independent of revelation, and in the historicity of reason instead of a transcendental reason. Tayyib Tizini’s Marxist interpretation of Averroes’ thought sees him as the peak of materialistic, heretic thought within Arab-Islamic philosophy. Some contemporary advocates of this trend, such as ‘Aziz ‘Azmah, reject the use of the heritage as an intellectual authority in today’s debates on modernity. They claim that most of its elements are already fading. However, some who follow the same argument, like Jurj Trabishi, still assert that Averroes’ philosophy was original. It proves, they say, the capability of Arabs as a Semitic ethnic group to produce philosophy. This is considered to be very important in the rise of modernity. The authentic discourse, on the other hand, sees Averroes in one of two ways. The first is that of the Islamic authentic thinkers: they rehabilitate him as a ‘good Muslim’ and they highlight the dogmatic elements of his thought. Their aim is to show that Islam can assimilate new developments in modern life without the need to adopt non-Islamic values. This is seen through Muhammad ‘Abduh’s and Jamal al-Din al-Afghani’s comments on Averroes’ thought. The second perspective is that of the modern authentic thinkers. They see in Averroes the main enlightened elements of the ArabIslamic heritage, which can be re-employed creatively today as an answer to the question of Arab enlightenment. This is because, for them, Averroes’ thought represents both a necessary rupture with the non-enlightened elements of the Arab-Islamic heritage and a rejection of Western values. For Hasan Hanafi, for example, Averroes is a key icon from the Arab-Islamic heritage. This can be the necessary ground for the national ideology that is entitled to lead the public into the modern era. Similarly, for Muhammad ‘Imarah, Averroes is the representative of certain elements of the ArabIslamic heritage: glorifying reason, encouraging science, providing an enlightened understanding of religious texts, establishing social and economic justice and guaranteeing human freedom and democracy. In his

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turn, Muhammad al-Ansari saw in Averroes the spirit of reconciliation between Islam and the new intellectual and scientific developments. More significantly, Muhammad al-Jabri sees in Averroes’ thought the peak of the rational movement that took place in Andalusia and Morocco. This aimed at protecting philosophy and science by distinguishing them from religion. Such views have been revived today within the contemporary Arab sphere. Surveying these studies has established their inadequacy in terms of understanding the totality, substance and context of Averroes’ work. In employing a historical approach to the study of the writings of Kant and Averroes, this book has concentrated on what Averroes did actually write, not what proponents of various ideological discourses wish or believe he wrote. In other words, this book has transformed the ‘Averroes question’ from an ideological one, as it has been conceptualized and dealt with by the thinkers mentioned above, into a historical one. Eschewing normative or ideological methodology in favour of the historical, analytical and communicative methodology advanced by Pocock and Skinner had two main benefits. The first is that it overcame the inadequacies implied in previous studies on Averroes’ relationship to enlightenment. Some of them, like Butterworth’s, were based on esotericism and led to a deep misunderstanding of Averroes’ philosophical intentions and ideas. Others, like most contemporary Arab studies, were ideological, ascribing alien presuppositions to Averroes, and depended on the particular scholar’s ideological preferences – postmodernism, Marxism, liberalism and so on. Employing historical methodology has helped to avoid misreading Averroes’ intentions and presuppositions and, to the extent to which historical evidence permits, has provided an honest analysis of his thought. Secondly, some contemporary Arab thinkers have argued that their claims that Averroes was an early enlightener are based on a historical analysis of his philosophy. Jabri, for example, argues that his analysis of Averroes’ thought is based on a strategy of what he terms ‘disconnection’. This approach means reading the heritage within its own historical conditions with regard to its main questions and the answers that every author has provided. It also means examining the epistemological content of the text and its ideological implications. Jabri moves on to explain that his strategy involves two processes. The first is the structural treatment, which means refraining from reading the marginalized ideas of the author

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instead of reading his whole thought. The second is historical analysis, which involves paying sufficient attention to the political, social, cultural and ideological dimensions of the text. It is very useful, therefore, to examine the claims concerning Averroes’ relationship to enlightenment by employing the same methodology that many contemporary Arab thinkers claim to employ. It is the historical methodology used in this book that has led to some of its major findings and the well-grounded conclusion that Averroes was not an advocate of rationality and enlightenment as he has so often been portrayed. Examining the outline of Averroes’ philosophical project and treating it as a whole, rather than cherry-picking scattered remarks, and focusing within that outline on the formation of his philosophical questions, his strategies and his avowed purposes established that the ultimate aim of Averroes’ philosophical project was not political. What is more, had that aim been present, it would not have been advocating enlightenment either explicitly or implicitly, in terms of his methodology. The real aims of Averroes’ philosophical project were firstly scientific and pedagogical: he sought to make a contribution to every field of knowledge by producing commentaries on Aristotle’s work. His second aim was theoretical and religious: he only used those philosophical conclusions that did not violate religious pretexts according to Averroes’ interpretation in order to improve public understanding of religious doctrines. Philosophers, in Averroes’ understanding, are at the service of imams and rulers. This is not the stuff of enlightenment. Through a detailed examination of the question of the relationship between revelation and reason, this study has established that this question appears in Averroes’ philosophical project not as an end in itself, but rather as a strategy serving the ultimate, apolitical aims of his philosophy. This refutes the oft-voiced claim within contemporary Arab scholarship that Averroes’ account of the relationship between reason and revelation was a conscious attempt to promote enlightened political-religious reform. Averroes formulates this relationship as one of mutual dependency. For him, revelation and reason are distinct from one another, but he attempts to include reason as well as revelation in forming religious arguments. Revelation, for Averroes, included universal and divine truth and he never challenges its authority. It can be interpreted rationally,

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within strict rules, but that is the limit of reason’s involvement with the formation of ontological truth. This finding refutes one of the common claims within contemporary Arab thought: Averroes’ unrestricted rationality and his independence from revelation. Where historical methodology has also proved of extreme benefit is in the deductions it has enabled us to make regarding the position of the public in Averroes’ thought. Averroes did not intend to publicize his philosophical project. The way he employed his theory of the modes of discourse led him to write in demonstrative language, which was intended for the elite. Furthermore, his relationship with the political regime that was the Almohad dynasty, particularly Abu Yusuf and his brother Abu Yahya, was not only the motivation behind his philosophical project, but defined its scope, direction and limits. He did not write for the public at all, much less to mobilize them towards a political end. Comparing Averroes’ account of the relationship between reason and revelation and its political implications with that of Kant in order to find out Averroes’ relationship to enlightenment was highly fruitful. It meant that there was no setting of an external cluster of ideological standards to decide what is enlightened and what is not, and then judging Averroes according to it. Setting this external cluster of ideological standards would have prevented the study from providing an honest historical examination of the widely shared ideological claim within contemporary Arab thought that Averroes was an early enlightenment figure. This is because it would have resulted in the study making the same mistake of imposing ideological standards on his thought. Comparing Averroes’ account of the relationship between reason and revelation and its political implications with that of Kant revealed Averroes’ relationship to the enlightenment without the need to judge him according to imposed ideological standards. The second reason why the comparison between Averroes and Kant was useful was because many contemporary Arab thinkers ascribe a Kantian type of rationality to Averroes. This is seen, for instance, when Anton presented Averroes’ formula for the relationship between reason and revelation to be very close to Kant’s formula. Another example is when Jabri understood the epistemological theories of Muslim philosophers, including Averroes’, to be very similar to those of Kant. It is revealing that the title of his intellectual project, Critique of Arab Reason, resembles the

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title of Kant’s project. Under such conditions, it is very useful to employ Kant. He is the Western philosopher who influenced contemporary Arab thinkers most, and he is undoubtedly an Enlightenment figure. If the methods, purposes and conclusions of Averroes and this paradigmatic Enlightenment figure are compared and shown to be wildly divergent on fundamental grounds despite superficial similarities, it is difficult not to conclude that it is inappropriate and anachronistic to describe Averroes as an enlightenment thinker. This is underlined by the fact that the definition of enlightenment used in this book was derived from the thought and writing of Kant himself, which highlighted the political nature of the enlightener’s intellectual activities. Kant showed how his epistemological, metaphysical, and moral theories (his philosophical insight) justified, conceptualized and grounded his idea of freedom, which was his political ideal, and the ultimate aim of his philosophical system. He mobilized the public by addressing some of his books and lectures on sociopolitical reforms to them. He also called for the gradual transformation of states towards a republican constitution, and the establishment of perpetual peace between nations. Most importantly, and as a result of his account of the relationship between reason and revelation, he called for the establishment of the true church. Adopting a definition of enlightenment derived from Kant’s thought avoided the risk of imposing one’s own ideas of what is enlightened and what is not, and then evaluating Averroes according to these ideas. Instead, it draws upon a figure whom, unlike Averroes, everyone agrees is quintessentially ‘Enlightened’. Furthermore, the absence in Arabic scholarship of a systematic account of enlightenment (and even of the Enlightenment) demands a neutral definition. This provides a meeting point between the different camps within contemporary Arab thought, particularly between those who believe in the universality of the Enlightenment, and those who deny it. At every stage of the analysis of Averroes’ thought it has been clear that he did not have an ultimate political aim. The first finding was that Averroes employs two political-ethical topics (the state and freedom) as a means leading to the two theoretical-religious topics (God and the highest good). This is in contrast to Kant, who does the opposite. He employs the two theoretical-religious issues as a means of leading to the

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two political-ethical ones. The lack of an ultimate political aim in Averroes’ philosophical project is a crucial factor in rejecting him as an advocate of the enlightenment. Averroes does not employ reason politically in his thought. This historical analysis has shown that the question of the relationship between reason and revelation appears as a strategy serving ultimate aims in the philosophical systems of both Averroes and Kant. However, while Averroes’ treatment of this question appears in his philosophical projects as a strategy serving ultimately apolitical aims, Kant’s treatment is fundamentally political and he uses it for his ultimate political aim. In Kant’s terminology, the words ‘reason’ and ‘the law of freedom’ are synonymous, and the latter is the criterion for interpreting revelation. Consequently, this central position of freedom as a political concept shows the central position of freedom as a political ideal in Kant’s thought. This proves the ultimate political aim of his whole philosophical enquiry: a crucial element in the definition of enlightenment and one which is entirely absent from the philosophical project of Averroes. In a wider sense, the results of this study weaken the claim that the seeds of enlightenment can be found within the Arab-Islamic heritage of the Middle Ages. Consequently, it reduces the credibility of any contemporary attempt that seeks to present some selected elements of that heritage as an early introduction to enlightenment. How, then, is the Arab-Islamic world to deal with its rich cultural and religious heritage in attempting to achieve enlightenment? There is no denying that the way the Arab-Islamic heritage is received and re-employed within contemporary Arab thought is deeply problematic: it selects a fading historical figure, often on flimsy grounds, revives his significance and uses him as a mouthpiece for a cluster of values and ideas that came to prominence centuries after his death in places and circumstances that differed greatly from his own. At best this is intellectually naïve, at worst, blatantly historically dishonest. And yet, while the irreconciliable ideological disputes continue between advocates of this or that discourse, it seems to be inevitable. This is where honest historical analysis comes in. If this approach is adopted, it avoids an emphasis on certain parts of the heritage that is so anachronistic as to be ultimately meaningless. What replaces it should be a focus on the aspects of the cultural heritage of the Arab-Islamic world

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that actively construct the present realities of that world, and are thus alive today. It should not be treated as heritage, but as a present that has roots in the past, and particularly the recent past. The advantage of looking at a heritage that constructs the present rather than the wide, fading past is that the intellectual activities of contemporary Arab thinkers will be focused on the current intellectual factors that hinder, or support, Arab modernity on the one hand, and on the other hand enable them to take the current material developments within the Arab world into account in order to come up with more practical analyses. In addition, the way that enlightenment is understood within contemporary Arab thought needs to be overhauled. It has been shown that contemporary Arab scholarship does not seem to provide a comprehensive account of either Enlightenment or enlightenment. Within that scholarship, the term is used to refer to several scattered, disconnected and, sometimes, contradictory values from creativity and rationality to secularism, Marxism and even postmodernism. The lack of a systemic account of enlightenment is caused by the tendency of thinkers to rely on some ready-made ideas that have already been formed within Western scholarship. This highlights another more profound problem: the lack of creativity within contemporary Arab thought. This book has shown that enlightenment, based on Kant’s Enlightenment, is necessarily the result of creative intellectual activities that respond to, and are influenced by, the public and their social and political conditions. However, more creativity with regard to the question of Arab enlightenment is necessary. Perhaps this can come about by engaging more with the contemporary Arab social and political conditions themselves. In modifying contemporary Arab thought, its preoccupations and methodologies, the opportunity to construct a creative, original and modern Arab intellectual sphere – a true Arab-Islamic enlightenment – will finally come.

NOTES

Introduction 1

2

3

4

5

Elizabeth Suzanne Kassab, ‘Revolution and enlightenment in the Arab world?’ (Columbia University Press, n.d.). Available at www.cup. columbia.edu/static/Elizabeth-Suzanne-Kassab-Contemporary-ArabThought (accessed 2 September 2012). William Pfaff, ‘Arab awakening could begin to resemble European Enlightenment’, Chicago Tribune, 29 December 2011. Available at www. chicagotribune.com/news/politics/sns-201112291700--tms--wpfafftr--va20111229dec29,0,6350836.column (accessed 3 September 2011). One example of a previous examination of Averroes’ relationship to the Enlightenment is that conducted by Charles Butterworth. He asserts that, apart from some contingent similarities between Averroes and Rousseau regarding the differences between people in intellectual capacity and safeguarding religion, there is nothing to support the claim that Averroes is a precursor of the Enlightenment. Spreading knowledge broadly in order to enlighten the public and using it as a means to liberate mankind were not on his philosophical agenda. See: C. Butterworth ‘Averroes, precursor of the Enlightenment?’, Alif, Journal of Comparative Poetics 16 (1996), pp. 6–18. The growing interest in Averroes as a figure of enlightenment is also indicated by the convening of many major international conferences on his contribution to the Enlightenment. An example is the one that was held in Cairo in 1994 under the sponsorship of the Afro-Asian Association. The contributions of the participants in that conference are published in M. Wahba and M. Abousenna (eds), Averroes and the Enlightenment (Amherst: Prometheus Books, 1996). Apart from dealing with this issue directly, the relationship between reason and revelation is manifested in modern Arab thought by the ongoing debate on secularism, the relationship between religion and the state, and the relationship with the West. The latter manifestation can be found in A. Abu-Rabi‘, Contemporary Arab Thought, Studies in Post-1967 Arab Intellectual History (London: Pluto Press, 2004), p. 28. R. Taylor, ‘Averroes: religious dialectic and Aristotelian philosophical

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10

Notes to Pages 14–23 thought’, in The Cambridge Companion to Arabic Philosophy, ed. Peter Damson and Richard Taylor (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), p. 182. At the end of World War II, KÖnigsberg became a Russian city. Today it is called Kaliningrad. A. Kenny, A Brief History of Western Philosophy (Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 1998), p. 252. A. W. Wood, ‘General introduction’, in A. Wood and G. Giovanni (eds), Religion and Rational Theology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), p. xiii. There are few studies on Kant written by Arab scholars. Among the ones that exist are: S. J. ‘Azm, The Origins of Kant’s Arguments in the Antinomies (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1972); M. Mazughi, Immanuel Kant, al-din fi hudud al-‘aql aw al-tanwir al-naqis (Beirut: Dar al-Saqi, 2007). The idea of classifying modern European thought into three waves, in which the second rehabilitated Greek philosophy, is advanced by Leo Strauss, as described later.

Chapter 1 1

A. Kuglegen, ‘A call for rationalism: “Arab Averroists” in the twentieth century’, Alif, Journal of Comparative Poetics 16 (1996), p. 101. 2 F. Anton, Ibn Rushd wa falsafatuh (Beirut: Dar al-Farabi, 2001), pp. 86, 141–64. 3 Ibid., pp. 126–7. 4 Ibid., p. 127. 5 Kuglegen, ‘Call for rationalism’, pp. 102–3. 6 Anton, Ibn Rushd wa falsafatuh, p. 134. 7 Ibid., p. 133. 8 S. Musa, al-Balaghah al-‘asriyyah wa-l-lughah al-‘arabiyyah (Cairo: Salamah Musa li-l-Nashr wa-l-Tauzi‘, 1964), p. 155; A. Madi, ‘Salamah Musa wa-l-falsafah’, in al-Falsafah al-‘arabiyyah al-mu‘asirah, mawaqif wa dirasat, buhuth al-mu’tamar al-falsafi al-‘arabi al-thani aladhi nazamatuh al-jami‘ah al-Urduniyyah (Beirut: Markaz Dirasat al-Wahdah al-‘Arabiyyah, 1988), p. 356. 9 Musa, al-Balaghah al-‘asriyyah, pp. 171–2. 10 Q. Amin, Qasim Amin, al-a‘mal al-kamilah, ed. M. ‘Imarah (Cairo: Dar al-Shuruq, 1998), pp. 282–4. 11 M. ‘Abduh, al-A‘mal al-kamilah li-l-imam Muhammad ‘Abduh, ed. M. ‘Imarah (Beirut: al-Mu’assasah al-‘Arabiyyah li-l-Dirasat wa-l-Nashr, 1972–4); and Kuglegen, ‘Call for rationalism’, p. 104. 12 Kuglegen, ‘Call for rationalism’, pp. 99, 104.

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J. Afghani, al-‘Urwah al-wuthqa wa-l-thawrah al-tahririyyah al-kubra (Cairo: Dar al-‘Arab, 1958), p. 67. 14 Kuglegen, ‘Call for rationalism’, p. 99. 15 See F. Zakariyya, ‘Al-falsafah wa-l-din fi-l-mujtama‘ al-‘arabi al-mu‘asir’, in al-Mu’tamar al-falsafi al-‘arabi al-awwal aladhi nazamatuh al-jami‘ah al-Urduniyyah (Beirut: Markaz Dirasat al-Wahdah al-‘Arabiyyah, 1985), pp. 43–70; A. Dhahir, ‘Dawr al-falsafah fi al-mujtama‘ al-‘arabi’, in al-Mu’tamar al-falsafi al-‘arabi al-awwal aladhi nazamatuh al-jami‘ah al-Urduniyyah (Beirut: Markaz Dirasat al-Wahdah al-‘Arabiyyah, 1985), pp. 71–92. The growing interest in the relationship between religion and philosophy can be seen in some recent studies such as: A. Marzuqi, Wihdat al-fikrayn al-dini wa-al-falsafi (Damascus: Dar al-Fikr, 2001); I. Hamadi, Islah al-fikr al-dini min manzur Ibn Rushd (Beirut: al-Markaz al-Thaqafi al-‘Arabi, 2007). 16 H. Hanafi, ‘Mawqifuna al-hadari, al-falsafah fi-l-watan al-‘arabi’, in alMu’tamar al-falsafi al-‘arabi al-awwal aladhi nazamatuh al-jami‘ah alUrduniyyah (Beirut: Markaz Dirasat al-Wahdah al-‘Arabiyyah, 1985), p. 33. 17 H. Hanafi, al-Turath wa-l-tajdid, mawqifuna min al-turath al-qadim (Cairo: Maktabat al-Anglu-Misriyyah, 1987), p. 11. This book is a general theoretical introduction to his project of determining the position of heritage in contemporary Arab thought. 18 Ibid., p. 13. 19 Ibid., pp. 16–17. 20 Ibid., pp. 17–18. 21 Ibid., p. 11. 22 Hanafi, ‘Mawqifuna al hadari’. On liberation from Western hegemony, see p. 37; on the redistribution of wealth, see p. 38; on democracy, see pp. 38–9; on Arab unity, see p. 39; on the reassertion of Arab identity, see pp. 39–49. (On this last point, it is worth mentioning that Hanafi defines identity as a psychological and social structure, not as a substance. See Hanafi, al-Turath wa-l-tajdid, p. 19.) On progress and the mobilization of the public, see Hanafi,‘Mawqifuna al hadari’, p. 40. 23 Hanafi, al-Turath wa-l-tajdid, p. 11. 24 Ibid. 25 Ibid., p. 22. 26 Ibid., p. 23. 27 Ibid., pp. 43–4. This idea in particular persuaded some historians to classify Hanafi as part of a trend labelled ‘Arab Third-Worldism’ due to its call for the emancipation of the local culture from Western intellectual hegemony and for cultural authentication. See: A. AbuRabi‘, Contemporary Arab Thought, Studies in Post-1967 Arab Intellectual History (London: Pluto Press, 2004), p. 13. 13

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Notes to Pages 25–26

28 Hanafi, al-Turath wa-l-tajdid, p. 84. 29 Ibid., p. 50. 30 Ibid., pp. 50–1. 31 On bridging the gap between the elite and the public, see Hanafi, al-Turath wa-l-tajdid, pp. 101–2; on discovering new levels of analysis, see pp. 112– 16; on re-reading heritage within different environments, see pp. 116–23. 32 H. Hanafi, ‘al-Falsafah wa-l-turath’, in al-Falsafah al-‘arabiyyah almu‘asirah, mawaqif wa dirasat, buhuth al-mu’tamar al-falsafi al-‘arabi al-thani alathi nazamatuh al-jami‘ah al-aurduniyah (Beirut: Markaz Dirasat al-Wahdah al-‘Arabiyyah, 1988), pp. 373, 384. 33 Ibid., p. 371. 34 Ibid., pp. 372, 374. 35 Ibid., pp. 388–90. 36 Ibid., pp. 391–2. 37 Ibid., pp. 382, 392. Hanafi criticizes the heritage of Kindi, Farabi and Avicenna, but never criticizes the heritage of Averroes. Hanafi, al-Turath wa-l-tajdid, pp. 14–15. 38 Hanafi, ‘Mawqifuna al-hadari’, p. 27. 39 Ibid., pp. 26–9. 40 Hanafi, ‘al-Falsafah wa-l-turath’, pp. 374–81. 41 Hanafi, ‘Mawqifuna al-hadari’, pp. 21–2. 42 Ibid., pp. 30, 35–6. 43 Ibid., p. 30. 44 Ibid., pp. 28–9. 45 M. ‘Imarah, Nazrah jadidah ila-l-turath (Beirut: al-Mu’assasah al‘Arabiyyah li-l-Dirasat wa-l-Nashr, 1974), p. 9. 46 Ibid., p. 33. 47 Ibid., p. 29. ‘Imarah wrote this book when he was a Marxist, leading him to claim that Marxists are the legitimate inheritors of the enlightened and progressive in any heritage. See pp. 9–11. 48 ‘Imarah, Nazrah jadidah ila-l-turath, pp. 13–8. A similar idea, with a corresponding degree of vagueness and generality, is expressed by Nasr Abu Zayd (b. 1943), who suggests that as Averroes contributed to the rise of the European Enlightenment, and as the enlightened elements are central to his thought, Arabs need his thought to be considered the authentic grounds for achieving their own enlightenment, although this should be done selectively. More interestingly, Abu Zayd believes that Averroes’ thought will be revived side by side with the modern values that have been developed in the West, such as religious toleration and pluralism. In other words, Abu Zayd calls for the revival of the European Averroes, not the Arab one. See Nasr Abu Zayd, al-Khitab wa-l-ta’wil (Casablanca and Beirut: al-Markaz al-Thaqafi al-‘Arabi, 2000), pp. 19–66.

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49 ‘Imarah, Nazrah jadidah ila-l-turath, p. 20. 50 Ibid., pp. 18–20. 51 Ibid., p. 14. 52 Ibid., p. 22. There has been growing interest within contemporary Arab thought in reviving the literature of the marginalized rational thought of the Mu‘tazila tradition. For more about neo-Mu‘tazilism see T. Hildebrandt, ‘Between Mu‘tazilism and mysticism: How much of a Mu‘tazilite is Nasr Hamid Abu Zayd?’, in C. Adang et al. (eds), A Common Rationality: Mu‘tazilism in Islam and Judaism (Istanbul: Orient-Institute, 2007), pp. 495–512. 53 ‘Imarah, Nazrah jadidah ila-l-turath, p. 41. 54 Kuglegen, ‘Call for rationalism’, pp. 111–12. As a sign of his interest in Averroes, ‘Imarah edited the Decisive Treatise. See A. Ibn Rushd, Fasl al-maqal fima bayn-l-hikmat wa-l-shary’ah men-l-itisal, ed. M. ‘Imarah (Cairo: Dar al-Ma‘arif, 1983). 55 ‘Imarah, Nazrah jadidah ila-l-turath, pp. 41–5. 56 M. Ansari, al-Fikr al-‘arabi wa sira‘al-addadah (Beirut: al-Mu’assasah al‘Arabyyah li-l-Dirasat wa-l-Nashr, 1996), p. 27. 57 Ibid., p. 39. 58 Ibid. 59 Ibid., p. 40. 60 Ansari, al-Fikr al-‘arabi, p. 40. 61 M. Jabri, Ibn Rushd, sirah wa fikr, dirasah wa nusus (Beirut: Markaz Dirasat al-Wahdah al-‘Arabiyyah, 2001), p. 9. 62 Ibid., p. 10. 63 Ibid., p. 11. 64 M. Jabri, al-Turath wa-l-hadathah, dirasat wa munaqashat (Beirut: Markaz Dirasat al-Wahdah al-‘Arabiyyah, 2006), p. 20. This book is an expanded and improved version of one that was originally published in 1980. 65 Jabri, al-Turath wa-l-hadathah, p. 23. 66 Ibid., pp. 24–5. 67 Ibid., p. 26. 68 Ibid., p. 27. 69 Ibid., p. 16. 70 Ibid. 71 As this strategy seems very close to, or even identical with, the historical methodology of Skinner and Pocock, it provides another reason (as will be shown later) why their approach is most appropriate for this study. 72 Jabri, al-Turath wa-l-hadathah, p. 28. 73 Ibid. 74 Ibid. 75 Ibid.

214 76 77 78 79 80

Notes to Pages 29–30

Ibid., p. 30. Ibid., pp. 31–3. Ibid., pp. 33–5. Ibid., p. 35. For a more detailed account of Jabri’s project and influence, see AbuRabi‘, Contemporary Arab Thought, pp. 256–78. 81 M. Jabri, Takwin al-‘aql al-‘arabi, naqd al-‘aql al-‘arabi (Casablanca: alMarkaz al-Thaqafi al-‘Arabi, 1987), pp. 11–17. 82 Ibid., pp. 17–34. 83 Ibid. 84 Ibid., p. 159. 85 Ibid., pp. 18–19. 86 Jabri explains that Shafi‘i (d. 820), who can be considered the founder of jurisprudence as a science, gave superiority to the religious texts over rational speculation. The result of this is that jurisprudence, which Jabri thinks is equal in Arab-Islamic culture to the position of mathematics in Western modern culture, became practically based on the Arabic language. Furthermore, Ash‘ari (d. 936), the founder of Ash‘arism, the dominant school of Islamic theology, built his theology on the rules of jurisprudence as Shafi‘i outlined them. For Jabri, this means that Islamic theology was built on a jurisprudence which itself was based on an abstract and non-historical language. See: Jabri, Takwin al-‘aql al-‘arabi, pp. 98, 105–16. 87 Ibid., p. 140. 88 Ibid. 89 Ibid. 90 Ibid. 91 Ibid., pp. 143–4. Particularly, Jabri names three main trends in the preIslamic heritage that remained active even after the Arab conquest. The first is the ancient Iranian religions such as Manichaeism and Zoroastrianism, which contradicted bayan by objecting to the monotheistic understanding of God and by claiming that humans can contact God by themselves. This implies a denial of prophecy. The second active pre-Islamic tradition was the tradition of the Mandaens, who objected to bayan by denying that God can be known through nature. They presented a transcendental view of Him by asserting that He can be contacted by a process of spiritual purification that also denies prophecy. The third is the Hermetic tradition and the philosophy of Pythagoras within the irrational strand of Greek philosophy. This trend was the basis for the esoteric reading of the religious texts and, furthermore, was developed by Numenius the Apamee to become neo-Platonism. Jabri argues that there are four principles of the Hermetic philosophy that will

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be re-employed and reflected within the Arab-Islamic sphere. The first is the transcendental God, who is the pure good, who has not created anything in the universe and cannot be known by reason, but only by spiritual purification. The second is matter, which is pure evil. The third is the maker, who has been ordered by the transcendental God to create the matter because pure good never contacts pure evil. This implies the maker is the mediator between pure good and pure evil. The fourth is that the soul has a divine origin, and was descended to be imprisoned in human bodies because of its sins. A process of spiritual purification may bring it back to be united with God. See: Jabri, Takwin al-‘aql al-‘arabi, pp. 150, 154, 158, 171, 177–8. 92 Jabri points out that, by adopting the principle of a transcendental God, the Isma‘ilis were the first to adopt the pre-Islamic heritage within the Islamic sphere. He also says that many of the founders of Sufism were originally Mandaens who had recently converted to Islam. For Jabri, the main Isma‘ili intellectual production, the letters of the Ikhwan al-Safa (Ikhwan al-safa wa khullan al-wafa wa ahl al-hamd wa abna al-majd, or the Brethren of Purity, loyal friends, people worthy of praise and sons of glory) reveals the pre-Islamic influence on that sect. In their metaphysical doctrines they set a hierarchal system of ten grades based on the theory of emanation, in which the transcendental God and the maker occupy the first two levels. This system is reflected and employed politically by another hierarchal system of ten grades, in which the prophet (Muhammad) and the interpreter (‘Ali) occupy the first two levels. See Jabri, Takwin al-‘aql al-‘arabi, pp. 199–201, 205–6. 93 The pre-Islamic heritage is presented in the Sufi tradition through their theory of the soul and its divine origin, and spiritual purification. This is expressed by adopting the beliefs that God is transcendent and cannot be known through His creations in the universe. Any religious text has an apparent meaning for the masses and another hidden meaning revealed only to those who are closer to the transcendent God. The principle of causality is denied. This latter principle was expressed through the interest that was shown by many leaders of these trends in Hermetic chemistry, their endless attempts to transform cheap materials into gold, and their interest in astrology, magic and superstition as proper sciences. See Jabri, Takwin al-‘aql al-‘arabi, pp. 190, 193, 195, 208. 94 Ibid., pp. 220–36; M. Jabri, Fasl al-maqal fi taqrir ma bayna al-shari‘ah wa-l-hikmah min ittisal (Beirut: Markaz Dirasat al-Wahdah al-‘Arabiyyah, 1999), p. 18. 95 M. Jabri, Nahnu wa-l-turath, qira’at mu‘asirah fi turathina al-falsafi (Beirut: Markaz Dirasat al-Wahdah al-‘Arabiyyah, 2006), pp. 116–17. 96 Jabri, Takwin al-‘aql al-‘arabi, p. 238.

216 97 98

Notes to Pages 31–34

Ibid., pp. 244–5. Ibid., p. 167. Jabri defines rationality in a Kantian way as the adaptation of reason and senses in obtaining knowledge. 99 Jabri, Takwin al-‘aql al-‘arabi, pp. 263–8. 100 Jabri, Nahnu wa-l-turath, pp. 153, 210. 101 Ibid., p. 214. 102 Ibid., p. 215. 103 Jabri, Takwin al-‘aql al-‘arabi, pp. 281–90. 104 Ibid., p. 309. 105 Jabri, Nahnu wa-l-turath, pp. 230, 248–50. Jabri even claims that Spinoza was influenced by Averroes, and that this distinction might have contributed to the rise of secularism. See ibid., pp. 311–12. 106 Ibid., p. 294. 107 Jabri, Takwin al-‘aql al-‘arabi, p. 323. 108 Jabri, Nahnu wa-l-turath, pp. 45, 55. 109 Ibid., p. 55. 110 Ibid. 111 Ibid., p. 54. 112 Ibid., pp. 53–4. 113 Ibid., p. 54. 114 Ibid. 115 Ibid. 116 Ibid., p. 58. Inspired by Kant, Jabri points out that Greek reason started refuting itself through dialectical arguments in a deconstructive manner when it stopped testing its claims empirically. This reduced the confidence in reason, opened the door for religious myths and superstitions to dominate the intellectual sphere, and led to the collapse of Greek civilization. Jabri asserts that the Greek decline preceded that of ArabIslamic rationality, which was characterized by a lack of the empirical tests and the deconstructive power of reason. See Jabri, Takwin al-‘aql al-‘arabi, pp. 167, 336. 117 Jabri, Fasl al-maqal, p. 49. 118 Ibid., p. 50. 119 Jabri, Fasl al-maqal, pp. 42–7. 120 Ibid., pp. 75–6. 121 M. Jabri, Ibn Rushd, sirah wa fikr, dirasah wa nusus (Beirut: Markaz Dirasat al-Wahdah al-‘Arabiyyah, 2001), pp. 104–8. 122 Ibid., pp. 387–92. 123 Ibid., pp. 283–7. 124 Ibid., p. 292. 125 Jabri, Ibn Rushd, sirah wa fikr, p. 35. 126 A. ‘Azmah, al-Turath bayn al-sultan wa al-tarikh (Beirut: Dar al-Tali‘ah,

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1990), pp. 26, 141. Jabri was also criticized by Hanafi. Hanafi, in his critique of Jabri, does not believe that there is such a thing as ‘Arab Reason’, identifying this as a nationalist, racist view. However, he agrees with Jabri that jurisprudence is the spirit of Arab-Islamic civilization. Hanafi, ‘alFalsafah wa-l-turath’, p. 370. 127 ‘Azmah, al-Turath bayn al-sultan wa al-tarikh, pp. 14–17. 128 Ibid., pp. 18–19. 129 Ibid., pp. 21–2. 130 Ibid., p. 27. 131 Ibid. 132 Ibid., p. 19. 133 Ibid., p. 31. 134 Ibid., p. 26. 135 Ibid. 136 J. Trabishi, Naqd naqd al-‘aql al-‘arabi, nazariyyat al-‘aql (Beirut: Dar alSaqi, 2007), p. 22. 137 Ibid. 138 Ibid., pp. 94–5. 139 Ibid., p. 98. 140 Ibid., p.23. 141 J. Trabishi, Naqd naqd al-‘aql al-‘arabi, al-‘aql al-mustaqill fi-l-Islam (Beirut: Dar al-Saqi, 2004), pp. 59–60. 142 Ibid., p. 68. 143 Ibid., p. 115. 144 Ibid., pp. 194–5. 145 Ibid., p. 111. Trabishi asserts, despite Jabri’s claim, that reason was equal to eloquence in ancient Arab tradition and in Greek philosophy alike. This denies Jabri’s claim that Arab eloquence and Greek logic are mutually contradictory. Furthermore, Trabishi claims that the Qur’an was the source of Arabic grammar, whereas Jabri denies this. Trabishi argues that Jabri contradicts himself by claiming that Arabic was based on the Bedouin experience and mathematical logic alike. See J. Trabishi, Naqd naqd al-‘aql al-‘arabi, ishkaliyyat al-‘aql al-‘arabi (Beirut: Dar al-Saqi, 2007), pp. 73, 158, 220. 146 Ibid., p. 126. 147 Ibid., p. 150. 148 Ibid., pp. 285–6. 149 Ibid., p. 299. 150 Ibid., p. 300. 151 Ibid., pp. 318–19. 152 Ibid., pp. 323–9. 153 Ibid., pp. 347–56.

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Notes to Pages 37–40

154 Ibid., pp. 336–40. 155 Ibid., p. 338. 156 J. Trabishi, Naqd naqd al-‘aql al-‘arabi, wahdat al-‘aql al-‘arabi al-islami (Beirut: Dar al-Saqi, 2007), p. 27. 157 Ibid., p. 38. 158 Ibid., pp. 73–8. 159 Ibid., pp. 78–82, 263. 160 Ibid., pp. 82–3, 229. 161 Ibid., pp. 86–7. 162 Ibid., p. 99. 163 Ibid., p. 133. 164 Trabishi, Naqd naqd al-‘aql al-‘arabi, nazariyyat al-‘aql, p. 303. 165 Trabishi, Naqd naqd al-‘aql al-‘arabi, wahdat al-‘aql al-‘arabi al-islami, pp. 133–4. 166 Ibid., p. 135. 167 Ibid., p. 138. 168 Ibid., p. 145. 169 Ibid., pp. 158, 163–4. 170 Ibid., pp. 174–5. 171 Ibid., pp. 182–4. 172 Ibid., pp. 184–93. 173 Ibid., p. 139. 174 J. Trabishi, Masa’ir al-falsafah bayna al-masihiyah wa-l-islam (Beirut: Dar al-Saqi, 1998), pp. 13–24. 175 Ibid., pp. 67–121. 176 Ibid., pp. 88–9. 177 Ibid., p. 90. 178 J. Trabishi, Hartaqat, ‘an al-dimukratiyyah wa-l-‘ilmaniyyah wa-l-hadathah wa-l-muman‘ah al-‘arabiyyah (Beirut: Dar al-Saqi, 2006), pp. 34–5. 179 J. Trabishi, Hartaqat 2, ‘an al-‘ilmaniyyah ka-ishkaliyyah islamiyyahislamiyyah (Beirut: Dar al-Saqi, 2008), p. 98. 180 Ibid. 181 Trabishi, Hartaqat, ‘an al-dimukratiyyah, pp. 76–7. 182 Ibid., p. 91. 183 Ibid., pp. 59–60. 184 Ibid., pp. 61–3. 185 Ibid., pp. 60–1. 186 M. Arkoun, Islam: to Reform or to Subvert (London: Saqi Essentials, 2006), p. 11. Arkoun states that his work is inspired by Kant’s critical philosophy. 187 Ibid., pp. 16–17. 188 Ibid. 189 M. Arkoun, Qadaya fi naqd al-‘aql al-dini, kayf nafham al-Islam al-yawm, trans. Hashim Salih (Beirut: Dar al-Tali‘ah, 1998), p. 9.

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190 Ibid., p. 52. 191 Ibid., pp. 9–10, 52. 192 M. Arkoun, Ta’rikhiyyat al-fikr al-‘arabi al-islami, trans. Hashim Salih (Beirut and Casablanca: Markaz al-Inma’ al-‘Arabi/al-Markaz al-Thaqafi al-‘Arabi, 1998), p. 11. 193 Arkoun, Islam: to Reform or to Subvert, p. 10. 194 Ibid. 195 Ibid., pp. 19–20. See also M. Arkoun, al-Islam, ‘Uruba, al-gharb, rihanat alma‘na wa iradat al-taghayyur, trans. Hashim Salih (Beirut: Dar al-Tali‘ah, 2001). 196 Arkoun, Ta’rikhiyyat al-fikr al-‘arabi al-islami, p. 11. 197 Arkoun, Qadaya fi naqd al-‘aql al-dini, p. 6. 198 Arkoun, Ta’rikhiyyat al-fikr al-‘arabi al-islami, pp. 37–8. 199 Arkoun, Qadaya fi naqd al-‘aql al-dini, p. 6. 200 Ibid., p. 41. 201 Ibid., p. 43. 202 Arkoun, Ta’rikhiyyat al-fikr al-‘arabi al-islami, p. 11. 203 Arkoun, Qadaya fi naqd al-‘aql al-dini, p. 292. 204 Arkoun, Ta’rikhiyyat al-fikr al-‘arabi al-islami, pp. 15, 32. 205 Arkoun, Qadaya fi naqd al-‘aql al-dini, pp. 232–3, 250. 206 Ibid., p. 194. 207 Ibid., pp. 194–5. 208 Ibid., p. 303. 209 Ibid., pp. 303–4. Like Jabri, one of Arkoun’s aims is to determine the position of the Maghribi heritage within the universal religious heritage, and to liberate that heritage from that of the eastern wing of the Islamic world. He believes that Jabri was attempting to avoid a clash with the public by entitling his project a ‘critique of Arab reason’ instead of ‘Islamic reason’. See Arkoun, Qadaya fi naqd al-‘aql al-dini, pp. 41–2, 55. 210 Ibid., p. 163. 211 M. Arkoun, Ma‘arik min ajl al-ansanah fi al-siyaqat al-islamiyyah, trans. Hashim Salih (Beirut: Dar al-Saqi, 2001), p. 65. Arkoun points out that there were some secular forces in Iraq and Iran during the Middle Ages. See Arkoun, Qadaya fi naqd al-‘aql al-dini, p. 205. The author gives details of these forces and their sociological grounds in Arkoun, Ma‘arik min ajl al-ansanah, pp. 61–8. 212 Ibid., p. 97. 213 Ibid., p. 14. 214 Arkoun, Ta’rikhiyyat al-fikr al-‘arabi al-islami, p. 130. However, Arkoun does not seem to have a fixed position regarding Averroes’ rationality, as he asserts once that Averroes’ theory of interpretation was not purely rational because it was restricted by revelation. Revelation was superior to reason. See Arkoun, Qadaya fi naqd al-‘aql al-dini, p. 250.

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215 Arkoun, Ta’rikhiyyat al-fikr al-‘arabi al-islami, p. 130. 216 Arkoun, Qadaya fi naqd al-‘aql al-dini, p. 184. 217 Ibid., p. 168. 218 Arkoun, Ta’rikhiyyat al-fikr al-‘arabi al-islami, p. 65. 219 Arkoun, Qadaya fi naqd al-‘aql al-dini, p. 289. 220 Ibid., pp. 154–5. 221 Ibid., p. 239. 222 Ibid. 223 Arkoun, Ma‘arik min ajl al-ansanah, pp. 58-9. 224 Arkoun, Qadaya fi naqd al-‘aql al-dini, pp. 26, 167. 225 Ibid., p. 241. 226 Ibid., pp. 301–3. 227 Ibid., pp 22–3, 127–31. 228 Ibid., p. 27. 229 Ibid., p. 28. 230 Ibid., p. 161. 231 Arkoun, Ma‘arik min ajl al-ansanah, pp. 37–8. 232 Arkoun, Qadaya fi naqd al-‘aql al-dini, pp. 160–1, 180. 233 Ibid., pp. 202, 268. 234 Ibid., p. 180. 235 Ibid., p. 241. 236 Ibid., pp. 166–7, and Arkoun, Ta’rikhiyyat al-fikr al-‘arabi al-islami, p. 37. 237 Arkoun, Ta’rikhiyyat al-fikr al-‘arabi al-islami, p. 134, and Arkoun, Qadaya fi naqd al-‘aql al-dini, p. 166. 238 T. Tizini, Mashru‘ ru’yah jadidah ila-l-fikr al-‘arabi fi-l-‘asr al-wasit (Damascus: Dar Dimashq li-l-Tiba‘ah wa-l-Nashr, 1971), p. 126. Tizini shows awareness of the ideological use of the heritage in contemporary Arabic literature, although he himself could not avoid it. See T. Tizini, Mina al-turath ila-l-thawrah, hawla naza’ah muqtarahah fi-l-turath al‘arabi (Beirut: Dar Ibn Khaldun, 1987). 239 Tizini, Mashru‘ ru’yah jadidah. 240 T. Tizini, ‘Fima bayn al-falsafah wa-l-turath’, in al-Falsafah al-‘arabiyyah al-mu‘asirah, mawaqif wa dirasat, buhuth al-mu’tamar al-falsafi al-‘arabi al-thani aladhi nazamatuh al-jami‘ah al-Urduniyyah (Beirut: Markaz Dirasat al-Wahdah al-‘Arabiyyah, 1988), p. 410. 241 Ibid., p. 409. 242 Ibid., p. 405. 243 Ibid., pp. 405–6. 244 Ibid., p. 406. Tizini defines heritage as a social phenomenon in its structural, functional and progressive interaction. It overlaps with the present and philosophy is an expression of social consciousness at a particular time. Ibid., pp. 402, 405.

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245 Ibid., p. 409. 246 Tizini, Mashru‘ ru’yah jadidah, p. 33. 247 Ibid., p. 45. 248 Ibid., pp. 31, 35. 249 Ibid., p. 77. 250 Ibid., p. 78. 251 Ibid., pp. 98–9. 252 Ibid., pp. 212–21. 253 Ibid., pp. 230–1. 254 Ibid., p. 284. 255 Ibid., pp. 286–301. 256 Ibid., pp. 359–60. 257 Ibid., pp. 331, 378. 258 L. Strauss, What is Political Philosophy, and Other Studies (Glencoe IL: The Free Press of Glencoe, 1959), p. 10. 259 Strauss distinguishes between political philosophy and political thought. He defines the latter as the ‘reflection on, or the exposition of, political ideas’, which are ‘any politically significant phantasm, notion, species, or whatever it is about which the mind can be employed in thinking’ concerning the political ‘fundamentals’. Having said this, there are two differences between political philosophy and political thought. The first is that the former is a systemic, comprehensive and deliberate insight into political phenomenology, while the latter does not pay attention to the distinction between knowledge and opinion. Political science, in its turn, is guided by modern natural science, and has adopted an empirical method of enquiry in dealing with political phenomenology instead of speculating on it. However, Strauss asserts that we cannot understand political phenomenology without answering the question: ‘what is political?’ This means that a priori knowledge of what is political is necessary in order to understand political phenomena. For Strauss, here is where the necessity for political philosophy lies. Strauss, What is Political Philosophy, pp. 10, 12–14. 260 Ibid. 261 Ibid. 262 Ibid. 263 Ibid. 264 Ibid., p. 12. 265 Ibid. 266 Ibid., p. 57. 267 Ibid. 268 Ibid. 269 Ibid., pp. 17–18.

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270 Ibid., p. 21. 271 Ibid. 272 Ibid., pp. 21–2. 273 Ibid., p. 25. 274 Ibid. 275 Ibid. 276 Ibid. 277 Ibid., p. 26. 278 Ibid. 279 Ibid. 280 Ibid., p. 66. 281 Ibid., p. 67. 282 Ibid., p. 69. 283 Ibid., p. 72. 284 Ibid., p. 72. 285 Ibid., pp. 70–1. 286 Ibid., pp. 63–4. 287 Ibid., p. 75. 288 Ibid., p. 74. 289 Ibid., p. 75. 290 Ibid., p. 76. 291 Ibid. 292 L. Strauss, The City and Man (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1964), p. 1. 293 Ibid. 294 Ibid., pp. 1–7. 295 Ibid., p. 8. 296 Ibid. 297 Strauss, What is Political Philosophy, p. 37. 298 Ibid. 299 Ibid. 300 Ibid., p. 50. 301 Ibid., p. 40. 302 Ibid., p. 50. 303 Ibid., p. 58. Strauss explains this further in his chapter on three waves of modernity in L. Strauss, Political Philosophy, Six Essays by Leo Strauss, ed. Hilal Gildin (New York: The Pobbs-Merrill Company, 1975), pp. 81–98. 304 Strauss, What is Political Philosophy, p. 64. 305 Ibid. 306 Ibid., p. 64. 307 Ibid. 308 Ibid.

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309 Ibid., pp. 65–6. Strauss’ views are comprehensively shared by John Gunnell. See J. Gunnell, Political Theory, Tradition and Interpretation (Cambridge: Winthrop Publishers, 1997). 310 L. Strauss, Persecution and the Art of Writing (Glencoe IL: The Free Press, 1952), p. 24. 311 Ibid., p. 25. 312 Ibid., p. 34. 313 Ibid. 314 Ibid. 315 Ibid., p. 33. 316 Ibid. 317 Ibid. 318 Ibid., p. 17. 319 Strauss, What is Political Philosophy, pp. 136–7. 320 Ibid., p. 137. 321 Strauss, Persecution and the Art of Writing, p. 33. 322 C. Butterworth, ‘Philosophy, ethics and virtuous rule: A study of Averroes’ Commentary on Plato’s Republic’, Cairo Papers in Social Science 9 (Spring 1986) (Cairo: The American University in Cairo Press). 323 Ibid., pp. 13–14. 324 Q. Skinner, Meaning and Context, Quentin Skinner and his Critics, ed. James Tully (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988), p. 29. 325 Ibid., p. 30. 326 Ibid. 327 Skinner, Meaning and Context, p. 30. 328 Ibid. 329 Ibid. 330 Diane Constantinescu, ‘Limits of Quentin Skinner’s methodology in historical research’, Meanings of Liberty: Applied Methods in Political Theory (academia.edu, n.d.). Available at ucl.academia.edu/ DianaConstantinescu/Papers/148210/Limits_of_Quentin_Skinners_ Methodology_in_Historical_Research (accessed 3 September 2012). 331 Skinner, Meaning and Context, p. 32. 332 Ibid. 333 Ibid., p. 34. 334 Ibid., p. 36. 335 Ibid., pp. 38–9. 336 Ibid., pp. 40–1. 337 Ibid. 338 Ibid., p. 44. 339 Ibid. 340 Ibid.

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341 Ibid. 342 Ibid., p. 57. 343 Ibid., p. 58. 344 Ibid., p. 59. 345 Ibid., p. 60. 346 Ibid. 347 Ibid., p. 61. 348 Ibid. 349 Ibid., p. 55. 350 Ibid., p. 56. Skinner, however, disagrees with Collingwood that there are not perennial questions. Skinner, Meaning and Context, pp. 65–6. 351 Ibid., p. 61. 352 Ibid. 353 Ibid., pp. 63–4. Skinner highlights an additional importance of his approach. Although he agrees with Marx and Namier that the purpose of ideologies is to justify or legitimate political actions and serve a particular interest, he argues that the rises of some ideologies were motivated by political principles and ideals. The role of linguistic analysis, then, is to distinguish between the factual statements and the evaluative ones, as the use of the normative concepts within the latter show the limits of the society. Skinner, Meaning and Context, pp. 109–11, 137. 354 Ibid., p. 48. 355 Ibid. 356 Skinner, Meaning and Context, p. 73. For Skinner, the political speech is a political action. See I. Hampsher-Monk, ‘Speech acts, languages or conceptual history?’, in Hampsher-Monk et al. (eds), History of Concepts: Comparative Perspectives (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 1998), p. 42. 357 Skinner, Meaning and Context, p. 73. 358 Ibid., p. 74. 359 Ibid., p. 75. 360 Ibid. 361 J. Pocock, Ideas in Context: Virtue, Commerce and History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985), p. 1. 362 Ibid., p. 4, 17. 363 Ibid., 17–18. 364 Ibid., p. 25. 365 Ibid., pp. 4–5. 366 Ibid., p. 5. 367 Ibid., pp. 6–7. 368 Ibid., pp. 7–8. 369 Ibid., pp. 9, 12.

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370 Ibid., p. 9. 371 J. Pocock, Politics, Language and Time: Essays on Political Thought and History (London: Methuen and Co. Ltd, 1971), p. 15. 372 Ibid. 373 Ibid. 374 As the second section of this chapter has shown, many contemporary Arab thinkers (for example, Hanafi, Trabishi, ‘Azmah, and particularly Jabri and Arkoun) claim that they apply a historical methodology in looking at the Arab-Islamic heritage. Employing the historical approach of Pocock and Skinner in this study, therefore, will be a useful way to judge their claims.

Chapter 2 The words ‘legal’ and ‘Law’ in this study always refer to Shari‘ah law. For more information on Averroes’ contributions, see J. Trabishi, Mu‘jam al-falasifah, al-falasifah, al-manatiqah, al-mutakallimun, al-mutasawwifun (Beirut: Dar al-Tali‘ah, 1987), pp. 20–2; M. Fakhry, Averroes, his Life, Works and Influence (Oxford: Oneworld Publications, 2001); D. Urvoy, ‘Ibn Rushd’, in Seyyed Hossein Nasr and Oliver Leaman (eds), History of Islamic Philosophy (London: Routledge, 1996); M. Jabri, Ibn Rushd, sirah wa fikr, dirasah wa nusus (Beirut: Markaz Dirasat al-Wahdah al-‘Arabiyyah, 2001). 3 A. Black, The History of Islamic Political Thought, from the Prophet to the Present (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2001), p. 119. 4 Fakhry, Averroes, his Life, Works and Influence, pp. xi–xiv. See also M. Jabri, Fasl al-maqal fi taqrir ma bayna al-shari‘ah wa-l-hikmah min ittisal (Beirut: Markaz Dirasat al-Wahdah al-‘Arabiyyah, 1999), pp. 25–6. 5 The Maliki school of law was founded by Malik bin Anas (715–96) in Medina during the early Islamic period. Later on, it became popular in Morocco and Iberia. This school is distinguished from other legal schools by its reliance on a teleological conception of Shari‘ah, which gives validity (or ‘Maqasid al-Shari‘ah’) and expediency (‘al-Masalih al-mursalah’) as the second source of its doctrines after the revealed texts. See A. Salamah, ‘al-Madhhab al-maliki, masadiruh wa ‘awamil intisharih bi Afriqiya wal-Andalus’, in Multaqa al-imam Ibn ‘Arafah (Tunis: Manshurat al-Hay’at al-Thaqafiyyah, 1976), pp. 13–41; M. S. Qahir, ‘Al-madhhab al-maliki fi-lgharb al-islami’, in al-Tafahum bina al-madhahib al-islamiyyah (Algeria: Manshurat al-Majlis al-Islami al-A‘la, 2002), pp. 401–25. 6 J. Abun-Nasr, A History of the Maghrib in the Islamic Period (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), pp. 80–3. See also Averroes, Averroes, on the Harmony of Religion and Philosophy, ed. G. Hourani (Beirut: Gibb 1 2

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Notes to Pages 63–67

Memorial Trust, 1976), p. 7. The term kalam will be used side by side with the term ‘theology’ throughout this study. 7 The subject of kalam differs from the subject of jurisprudence. The first deals solely with metaphysical and cosmological issues such as God’s nature, His attributes and the universe. The latter deals with the practical conduct of Muslims’ in their daily lives. 8 W. A. Abd. Almarrakushi, The History of Almohades (Amsterdam: Amsterdam Oriental Press, 1968). 9 M. Jabri, Fasl al-maqal, pp. 27–31. 10 Averroes, Harmony of Religion and Philosophy, p. 9. See also Fakhry, Averroes, his Life, Works and Influence, pp. xiv–xv; A. Dandish, al-Andalus fi nihayat al-murabitin wa mustahal al-muwahhidin, ‘asr al-tawa’if al-thani (Beirut: Dar al-Gharb al-Islami, 1998), p. 349. 11 Ibid., pp. 349–53. 12 Averroes, Harmony of Religion and Philosophy, p. 9. 13 Almohad is the Spanish distortion of the Arabic name al-Muwahidun, which means the Unitarians. It refers to their strict attitude regarding the unity of God. See Abun-Nasr, History of the Maghrib, p. 88. 14 Almarrakushi, History of Almohades, pp. 128–9. See also Abun-Nasr, History of the Maghrib, p. 87. 15 Almarrakushi, History of Almohades, pp. 169–79. 16 Averroes, Harmony of Religion and Philosophy, pp. 12–13. 17 Abun-Nasr, History of the Maghrib, p. 97. 18 Almarrakushi, History of Almohades, pp. 189–225. 19 Ibid., pp. 189–225. See also Fakhry, Averroes, his Life, Works and Influence, pp. 2–3. However, some scholars have argued that Averroes’ exile was actually due to his relationship with Abu Yahya, the brother of Abu Yusuf, who maneouvred to take the throne during Abu Yusuf ’s illness. Averroes supposedly wrote to advise Abu Yahya against becoming the ruler, an eventuality prevented by Abu Yusuf by his recovery from his illness. 20 Fakhry, Averroes, his Life, Works and Influence, p. xii. 21 Urvoy, ‘Ibn Rushd’, p. 301. See also Averroes, Harmony of Religion and Philosophy, p. 15. 22 Urvoy, ‘Ibn Rushd’, p. 302. See also Averroes, Harmony of Religion and Philosophy, p. 9; Fakhry, Averroes, his Life, Works and Influence, p. xiv. 23 Averroes, Harmony of Religion and Philosophy, p. 9. 24 Abun-Nasr, History of the Maghrib, pp. 94–5. 25 Fakhry, Averroes, his Life, Works and Influence, p. xv. 26 H. Corbin, History of Islamic Philosophy (London: Kegan Paul, 1993), p. 250. See also: Jabri, Ibn Rushd, sirah wa fikr, p. 381. 27 The movement to translate Greek philosophy started during the first

Notes to Pages 67–72

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phase of the Abbasid period in Iraq. The Abbasids sought to balance the sociopolitical position of the non-Arab groups of the empire with that of the Arabs. This, combined with the way in which the Abbasid dynasty presented itself as the inheritor of all the previous traditions in the territories it was dominating, naturally boosted the fortunes of the main non-Arab group in the empire, the Persians. As the Persians believed that Greek thought was originally influenced by Zoroastrianism and was transferred from Persia to Greece by Alexander the Great, the translation movement was a revival movement of the Zoroastrian-Persian culture in its depth and aims. See D. Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture: The Graeco-Arabic Translation Movement in Baghdad and Early Abbasid Society (2nd–4th/8th–10th centuries) (London: Routledge, 1998). 28 Urvoy, ‘Ibn Rushd’, p. 308. 29 Fakhry, A History of Islamic Philosophy (New York: Columbia University Press, 1983), pp. 271–87. 30 A. Ghazali, Tahafut al-falasifah, ed. M. Bouyges (Beirut: al-Matba‘ah alKathulikyyah, 1962), p. 7. 31 Ibid. 32 Ibid. 33 Ibid., p. 8. The Karramiyya and Waqifiyya are theological sects. 34 Ghazali, Tahafut al-falasifah, p. 230. 35 Neoplatonism was believed to be anti-Islamic because it refers the creation to the nature of God, not to His will. 36 Ghazali, Tahafut al-falasifah, p. 4. 37 Ibid. 38 Jabri, Ibn Rushd, sirah wa fikr, pp. 31–47. 39 Averroes, Harmony of Religion and Philosophy, p. 44. 40 Ibid., pp. 20–2. 41 Ibid., p. 50. 42 Consensus or ijma‘ is one of the sources of Islamic law. It refers to the consensus of all the Muslim scholars at a particular period of time, in a particular place, regarding a particular issue. The dispute over the validity of consensus between Ghazali and Averroes goes deeper and wider than the scope of this study. Ghazali asserts that consensus has priority over syllogism (qiyas) and opinion (ra’ai) in legal validity. See A. Ghazali, al-Mustasfa min ‘ilm al-usul (Baghdad: al-Muthanna Library, 1970), pp. 211–46; W. Farfur, Madarik al-haqq, al-ijma‘ wa mabahithuh (Damascus: Dar al-Farfur, 2001). Also, F. Sadhan, Munaqashat al-istidlal bi-l-ijma‘, dirasah ta’asiliyyah tatbiqiyyah (Riyadh: Maktabat al-Ubaykan, 1414 ah); also, A. ‘Abd al-Raziq, al-Ijma‘ fi-l-Shari‘ah al-islamiyyah (Cairo: Dar alFikr al-‘Arabi, 1947). 43 Averroes, Harmony of Religion and Philosophy, p. 52.

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44 Jabri, Fasl al-maqal, p. 85. 45 Averroes, Faith and Reason in Islam, the Exposition of Religious Arguments, trans. Ibrahim Najjar (Oxford: Oneworld Publications, 2001), pp. 70–1. 46 Ibid., p. 17. 47 Averroes calls it the ‘argument of providence’. 48 Averroes calls it the ‘argument of invention’. 49 Averroes, Faith and Reason in Islam, pp 33–8. 50 Ibid., p. 32. 51 The rational tendency is shown even in his legal book Bidayat al-mujtahid, which includes signs of Aristotelian influence. See: O. Bin Fadil, ‘Musahmat Ibn Rushd fi tatwir mantiq al-qanun wa maddat al-qanun al-muqarin fi al-‘usur al-wusta, qira’ah hurah li-bidayat al-mujtahid’, in M. Mansya (ed.), Ibn Rushd, faylasuf al-sharq wa-l-gharb, fi al-dhikra al-mi’awiyyah al-thaminah li-wafatih (Tunisia: Manshurat al-Majma‘ al-Thaqafi, 1999), pp. 379–422; M. Maki, Fiqh Ibn Rushd: qira’ah fi kitab bidayat al-mujtahid, Ibn Rushd, al-tabib wa al-faqih wa al-faylasuf (Kuwait: Silsilat al-Matbu‘at, 1995), pp. 393–466. 52 Averroes, Faith and Reason in Islam, p. 108. 53 It should be mentioned that Averroes deals with God’s action as if it is synonymous with God’s will. 54 Averroes, Faith and Reason in Islam, p. 108. 55 Ibid., p. 109. 56 Ibid. 57 Ibid., pp. 109–10. 58 Ibid., p. 111. 59 Taking into account that humans might be external causes of each other. 60 Averroes, Faith and Reason in Islam, p. 111. 61 Ibid., p. 113. 62 Averroes, as in Tahafut, asserts the free will of man (pp. 103, 378) and he argues that it is completely different from human will, except in the name. See Ibn Rushd, Tahafut al-tahafut (Cairo: Dar al-Ma‘arif, 1964), pp. 103, 378. 63 Averroes, Harmony of Religion and Philosophy, p. 44. 64 The argument here agrees with Arnaldes that Averroes considers the question of the relationship between revelation and reason at a practical, not an abstract, level. See R. Arnaldes, Averroes: A Rational in Islam, trans. D. Streight (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1997), pp. 79–80. 65 Averroes, Harmony of Religion and Philosophy, p. 65. 66 Averroes, Faith and Reason in Islam, p. 17. 67 Ibid., pp. 69–70. 68 Ibid., p. 37. 69 Ibid., p. 41. 70 Ibn Rushd, Talkhys al-khatabah (Cairo: Maktabat al-Nahdah al-Misryah, 1960).

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71 Ibid., p. 3. 72 This goes against the claim advanced by some scholars that Averroes believes in the duality of truth. See, for example: Fakhry, History of Islamic Philosophy, p. 277; Urvoy, ‘Ibn Rushd’, p. 310; Corbin, History of Islamic Philosophy, p. 245. Rosenthal traces such attitudes of those commentators who argued that Averroes believed in the duality of truth to Averroes’ Latin interpreters, who misunderstood his idea of modes of discourse. See E. I. J. Rosenthal, ‘Ara’ Ibn Rushd al-siyasiyyah’, trans. al-Baynah, in al-Baynah (Rabat: Wizarat al-Dawlah al-Mukalafah bi-lShu’un al-Islamiyah, 1962), p. 97. 73 Averroes, Faith and Reason in Islam, p. 66. 74 The pedagogical methodology and intent of the book, which will be discussed in Chapter 4, are also significant here. 75 This is mainly advanced by Jabri. See Jabri, Ibn Rushd, sirah wa fikr, pp. 64–7. But Trabishi disagreed about this, as has been shown in Chapter 1. See Chapter 4 for further evaluation. 76 Averroes, Averroes’ Commentary on Plato’s Republic, ed. E. I. J. Rosenthal (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1969), p. 250. 77 Ibid., p. 251. 78 Abun-Nasr, History of the Maghrib, pp. 204–5; Jabri, Ibn Rushd, pp. 64–7. 79 Butterworth identifies the instrumental meaning of ethics in the Islamic philosophical tradition as a way of obtaining virtues. C. Butterworth, ‘Philosophy, ethics and virtuous rule: A study of Averroes’ Commentary on Plato’s Republic’, Cairo Papers in Social Science 9 (Spring 1986) (Cairo: The American University in Cairo Press), p. 1. 80 Averroes, Averroes’ Commentary on Plato’s Republic, p. 113. 81 Ibid. 82 Jabri, Ibn Rushd, sirah wa fikr, p. 243. 83 Averroes, Averroes’ Commentary on Plato’s Republic, p. 161. 84 Ibid., p. 162. 85 Ibid., p. 183. 86 Except that he asserts the soul is immortal. He also argues that the relationship between the soul and its body is the same as the relationship between a maker and his instrument. Furthermore, he believes in the collective soul for all humans, and he presents the relationship between the collective soul and human bodies as if it were the relationship between light and mirrors. See Ibn Rushd, Tahafut al-tahafut, pp. 195, 833–4; Averroes, Faith and Reason in Islam, pp. 121–7; Averroes, Middle Commentary on Aristotle’s De Anima, ed. Alfred Ivry (Provo, UT: Brigham Young University Press, 2002). 87 Averroes and Avicenna use Farabi’s terms when describing these political regimes, although Farabi classifies the types of governments into four only: democratic, autocratic, oligarchic and tyrannical. See Rosenthal,

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‘Ara’ Ibn Rushd al-siyasiyyah’, p. 100; A. D. Murad, Dawlat al-din wa-lsiyasah ‘inda Ibn Sina (Beirut: Dar al-Tali‘ah li-l-Tiba‘ah wa-l-Nashr, 1999), pp. 95–118. 88 Averroes, Averroes’ Commentary on Plato’s Republic, pp. 207–8. 89 Ibid., p. 209. 90 Ibid., p. 156. 91 Ibid., p. 160. 92 Mu‘awiya (d. 680) was the founder of the Umayyad dynasty. He governed the Muslim empire from Damascus. 93 Averroes, Averroes’ Commentary on Plato’s Republic, p. 223. 94 Ibid., p. 227. 95 Butterworth, who follows a Straussian method of interpretation, argues that Averroes shows an ‘explicit endorsement’ of some of Plato’s ideas, such as the community of women and children and the regulations pertaining to sexual intercourse. However, it is clear that Averroes is always aware of the contradiction between these elements of the Republic and Islam. They are mentioned in his commentary because of their pedagogical usefulness: they are important for political science as a science. See Chapter 4 for further explanation. See Averroes, Averroes’ Commentary on Plato’s Republic, pp. 111, 250–1; Butterworth, ‘Philosophy, ethics and virtuous rule’, pp. 13–14. 96 Averroes, Averroes’ Commentary on Plato’s Republic, pp. 150–1, 170. 97 Ibid., p. 150. 98 Ibid., p. 170. 99 Ibid., p. 177. 100 Ibid., p. 194. 101 Ibid., pp. 207–8. 102 Ibid., p. 190. 103 Ibid., p. 208. 104 Ibid., p. 209. 105 Ibid., p. 180. 106 Ibid., p. 183. 107 Ibid., p. 205. 108 Ibid., p. 180. 109 Averroes, Faith and Reason in Islam, p. 28. 110 Ibid., p. 45. 111 Ibid., pp. 33–8, 80. 112 Averroes, Averroes’ Commentary on Plato’s Republic, p. 188. 113 Ibid., p. 216. 114 Ibid., p. 153. 115 Ibid., p. 119. 116 Ibid., p. 120.

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117 Ibid., p. 118. 118 Ibid., p. 119. 119 Ibn Rushd, Bidayat al-mujtahid (Cairo: Dar al-Kutub al-Hadithah, 1975), pp. 473–7. 120 Averroes, Averroes’ Commentary on Plato’s Republic, p. 152. 121 Ibid., p. 152. 122 Ibid., p. 153. 123 Ibid., p. 153. 124 The recognition of ethnicity as a basis for the multiple understanding of religion is shown also by Farabi. See J. Parens, An Islamic Philosophy of Virtuous Religions (New York: State University of New York Press, 2006), p. 77. 125 Averroes, Averroes’ Commentary on Plato’s Republic, p. 120. 126 Ibn Rushd, Talkhis al-khitabah (Cairo: Maktabat al-Nahdah al-Misriyyah, 1960), pp. 4–5. 127 Ibid., pp. 5–6. 128 M. Blaustein, ‘The scope and methods of rhetoric in Averroes’ Middle Commentary on Aristotle’s Rhetoric’, in C. Butterworth (ed.), The Political Aspect of Islamic Philosophy (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1992), pp. 265–7. See also H. Alusi et al., ‘Haqiqat Ibn Rushd bayna al-din wa-lfalsafah ‘ala daw’ ta‘addudiyyat al-khitab ‘indahu’, in A. A‘sam (ed.), Ibn Rushd wa falsafatuh bayna al-turath wa-l-mu‘asarah, vol. 1 (Baghdad: Bayt al-Hikmah, 1998), pp. 135–93. 129 Ibn Rushd, Talkhis al-khitabah, pp. 12–13; Averroes, Averroes’ Commentary on Plato’s Republic, p. 117. 130 Blaustein, ‘Scope and methods of rhetoric’, p. 269. 131 Averroes, Averroes’ Commentary on Plato’s Republic, pp. 192–3. 132 Blaustein, ‘Scope and methods of rhetoric’, p. 269. 133 Averroes, Averroes’ Commentary on Plato’s Republic, p. 190. 134 Ibid., p. 192. 135 Ibn Rushd, Talkhis al-khitabah, pp. 9–10. 136 Ibid., p. 10. 137 Ibid., pp. 11–12. 138 D. Black, Logic and Aristotle’s Rhetoric and Poetics in Medieval Arabic Philosophy (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1990), p. 248. 139 Ibn Rushd, Talkhis al-khitabah, pp. 117–30. 140 Ibid., p. 13.

Chapter 3 1

The idea of freedom is central to Kant’s account of the Enlightenment, as he defines the latter in his famous article ‘What is Enlightenment?’ as

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‘man’s release from his self-incurred tutelage. Tutelage is man’s inability to make use of his understanding without direction from another’. I. Kant, ‘What is Enlightenment?’, in L. W. Beck (ed.), Critique of Practical Reason (London: Garland Publishing Inc., 1967), p. 286. This study, however, will go beyond that article and aims to examine Kant’s philosophical justification and political employment of his idea of freedom by consulting his major epistemological, metaphysical, ethical and political works. 2 H. Reiss, ‘Introduction’, in H. Reiss (ed.), Political Writings, trans. H. B. Nisbet (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), p. 3. 3 K. Ward, The Development of Kant’s View of Ethics (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1972). 4 Reiss, ‘Introduction’, pp. 3, 15–16. 5 Ibid. 6 H. E. Alison, The Kant–Eberhard Controversy (London and Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1973), p. 3. 7 See Reiss, ‘Introduction’, pp. 3, 15–6; H. Saner, Kant’s Political Thought, its Origins and Developments, trans. E. B. Ashton (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1973); K. Hutchings, Kant, Critique and Politics (London: Routledge, 2003), p. 12; D. Henrich, ‘On the meaning of rational action in the state’, trans. Richard L. Velkley, in R. Beiner and W. J. Booth (eds), Kant and Political Philosophy: the Contemporary Legacy (London: Yale University Press, 1993), p. 99; O. O’Neill, ‘Reason and politics in the Kantian enterprise’, in H. Williams (ed.), Essays on Kant’s Political Philosophy (Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 1992), p. 51. 8 See R. Velkley, ‘The crisis of the end of reason in Kant’s philosophy and the remarks of 1764–1765’, in R. Beiner and W. J. Booth (eds), Kant and Political Philosophy: the Contemporary Legacy (London: Yale University Press, 1993), pp. 76–94. 9 Ibid., p. 87; P. Riley, ‘The elements of Kant’s practical philosophy’, in R. Beiner and W. J. Booth (eds), Kant and Political Philosophy: the Contemporary Legacy (London: Yale University Press, 1993), p. 9. 10 This view is reflected in the definition of enlightenment adopted in this book. 11 Hutchings, Kant: Critique and Politics. 12 Saner, Kant’s Political Thought, p. 3. 13 Ibid., pp. 7–49. 14 Ibid., pp. 217–313. 15 B. Yack, ‘The problem of Kantian liberalism’, in R. Beiner and W. J. Booth (eds), Kant and Political Philosophy: the Contemporary Legacy (London: Yale University Press, 1993), pp. 224–5. 16 Ibid., p. 225. He was referring to Kant’s concept of the unsocial sociability, which refers to man’s tendency to live in society to fulfil his basic needs and, at the same time, his tendency to live as an individual in order to

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manage everything according to his own ideas. Kant introduces his conception of right as a conceptual unity between freedom and authority. The universal principle of right is ‘Every action which by itself or by its maxim enables the freedom of each individual’s will to co-exist with the freedom of everyone else in accordance with a universal law of right.’ See I. Kant, ‘The metaphysics of morals’, trans. H. B. Nisbet, in H. Reiss (ed.), Political Writings (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), pp. 44, 133. 17 Yack, ‘The problem of Kantian liberalism’, pp. 224–5. 18 R. Beiner and W. J. Booth, ‘Introduction’, in R. Beiner and W. J. Booth (eds), Kant and Political Philosophy: the Contemporary Legacy (London: Yale University Press, 1993), pp. 2–3; K. E. Dodson, ‘Autonomy and authority in Kant’s Rechtslehre’, Political Theory 25/1 (February 1997), p. 93; H. Bielefeldt, ‘Autonomy and republicanism: Immanuel Kant’s philosophy of freedom’, Political Theory 25/4 (August 1997), p. 526. 19 The argument in favour of the idea that Kant’s political thought is the ultimate aim of his philosophical system raises the question of whether he had intended to employ the epistemological and metaphysical elements of his thought politically from the very beginning of his philosophical enquiry, or if his philosophical maturity developed gradually and spontaneously to lead to this result. There is not enough evidence to support or exclude either of these possibilities. Nevertheless, as both claims reach the same conclusion, that Kant’s political thought is the ultimate aim of his philosophical system, this question will not be raised further in this chapter. 20 P. Munch, ‘The growth of the modern state’, in S. Ogilvie (ed.), Germany: a New Social and Economic History, 1630–1800, vol. 2 (London: Arnold, 1996), pp. 164–232. For more details on the role of churches in education, see G. Strauss, Enacting the Reformation in Germany: Essays on Institutions and Reception (Aldershot: Variorum, 1993). For a brief discussion on the Reformation and its political consequences, see R. Scribner and C. Dixon, The German Reformation: Studies in European History (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003). 21 Munch, ‘Growth of the modern state’, p. 211. 22 H. Brunschwig, Enlightenment and Romanticism in Eighteenth-Century Prussia (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1974), p. 9. 23 Ibid.; C. Behrens, Society, Government and the Enlightenment: the Experience of Eighteenth-Century France and Prussia (London: Thames & Hudson, 1985), pp. 27–8. A more detailed study can be found in G. Strauss, Enacting the Reformation. 24 Munch, ‘Growth of the modern state’, p. 211. 25 Kant himself was clearly influenced by Wolff ’s terminology. He was also influenced by Wolff ’s student, Alexander Baumgarten (1741–62), and used him as a source of information. See L. W. Beck, ‘Introduction’, in

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L. Beck (ed.), Critique of Practical Reason (London: Garland Publishing Inc., 1976), p. 4. 26 Brunschwig, Enlightenment and Romanticism, p. 11; Behrens, Society, Government and the Enlightenment, pp. 26–7. 27 Ibid., p. 178. 28 Ibid., p. 27. 29 Ibid., pp. 176–7. 30 Ibid., p. 177. 31 Ibid., pp. 177, 181. 32 Ibid., pp. 178–9. 33 R. von Friedeburg and W. Mager, ‘Learned men and merchants: the growth of the “Burgertum” in Germany’, in S. Ogilvie (ed.), Germany: A New Social and Economic History, 1630–1800, vol. 2 (London: Arnold, 1996), p. 168. 34 Munch, ‘Growth of the modern state’, p. 219. 35 Behrens, Society, Government and the Enlightenment, p. 186. 36 T. M. Green, ‘Introduction’, in T. Green and H. Hudson (eds), Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone (London: Harper Torchbook, 1960), p. xxi. 37 Green, ‘Introduction’, pp. xiv–xv. 38 Ibid. 39 A. W. Wood, ‘General introduction’, in A. Wood and G. Giovanni (eds), Religion and Rational Theology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), p. xi. 40 Ibid.; Green, ‘Introduction’, p. xiii. 41 Ibid. 42 Ibid., p. xiii. 43 Ibid., p. xiv. 44 Reiss, ‘Introduction’, p. 6; Green, ‘Introduction’, p. ix. 45 Ibid., p. xi. 46 Reiss, ‘Introduction’, p. 7. 47 Ibid., p. 8. 48 Green, ‘Introduction’, p. x. 49 F. Beiser, ‘Kant’s intellectual development: 1746–1781’, in P. Guyer (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Kant (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992), p. 27. 50 Ibid., p. 27. 51 Ibid., pp. 28, 30. 52 Ibid., p. 30. 53 Ibid., p. 30. 54 Reiss, ‘Introduction’, p. 1. 55 Green, ‘Introduction’, p. xxiii. 56 Ibid., p. xxiv.

Notes to Pages 108–110 57

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Ibid. Green suggests this may be due to the influence of his mother and some early teachers, which enabled him to distinguish the good examples from the bad. 58 Wood, ‘General introduction’, p. xii. 59 Ibid., p. xvi. 60 Ibid., p. xxiii. For more details on Kant’s lectures on religion, see I. Kant, Lectures on Philosophical Theology, trans. A. Wood and G. Clark (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 1978). See also I. Kant, ‘Lectures on the philosophical doctrine of religion’, trans. A. W. Wood and G. Giovanni, in A. Wood and G. Giovanni (eds), Religion and Rational Theology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), pp. 335–451. 61 Beiser, ‘Kant’s intellectual development’, p. 30. 62 S. M. Shell, The Rights of Reason: a Study of Kant’s Philosophy and Politics (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1980), p. 12; S. Shell, ‘Commerce and community in Kant’s early thought’, in R. Beiner and W. J. Booth (eds), Kant and Political Philosophy: the Contemporary Legacy (London: Yale University Press, 1993), p. 118. 63 Kant did not write a systemic work on the domestic politics of his own country, perhaps because of the absence of freedom of speech in political matters in the Prussia of Frederick the Great. See Behrens, Society, Government and the Enlightenment. 64 Wood, ‘General introduction’, p. xxiii. The tension within the Holy Roman Empire in particular, and in European politics in general, would also encourage him to write Perpetual Peace, in which he suggested a federation of disarmed countries based on a universal conception of reason. J. Bohman and M. Lutz-Bachmann, ‘Introduction’, in J. Bohman and M. Lutz-Bachmann (eds), Perpetual Peace: Essays on Kant’s Cosmopolitan Ideal (London and Cambridge MA: The MIT Press, 1997), pp. 1–22. 65 D. Hume, An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding, ed. Tom Beauchamps (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), pp. 134–47. 66 J. Locke, An Essay Concerning Human Understanding (London: Routledge, 1894), new edition, pp. 238–41. 67 Ibid., pp. 12–15. 68 Ibid., p. 59. 69 Ibid., pp. 59–60. 70 Ibid., p. 60. 71 Ibid., pp. 26–7. 72 Ibid., p. 447. 73 Ibid., pp. 527–30. 74 Ibid., p. 29. 75 Kant’s main question in his Critique of Pure Reason can also be seen in a broader sense: the problematic relationship between man and nature in

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Western civilization. It deals with the logical incoherence of the relationship between mechanical nature and purposive conscious man, which Kant’s predecessors (Descartes, Spinoza, Hobbes and Leibniz) had failed to solve. See Beck, ‘Introduction’, pp. 1–2. 76 Ibid., p. 5. 77 Brunschwig, Enlightenment and Romanticism, pp. 7–8. 78 J. Locke, A Letter Concerning Toleration, ed. James Tully (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, 1983), pp. 585–9. 79 Ibid., pp. 30, 46. 80 Ibid., pp. 28, 33. 81 Ibid., pp. 29, 40–1. 82 Ibid., p. 26. 83 Ibid., pp. 26–7, 35. 84 Ibid., p. 27. 85 Ibid., p. 31. 86 Beck, ‘Introduction’, p. 6. 87 Shell, Rights of Reason, pp. 22–3. 88 Ibid., p. 20. 89 Beck, ‘Introduction’, p. 7. 90 Ibid., p. 27. 91 S. M. Shell, ‘Kant’s political cosmology: freedom and desire in the “remarks” concerning observations on the feeling of the beautiful and the sublime’, in H. Williams (ed.), Essays on Kant’s Political Philosophy (Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 1992), p. 81. 92 Beck, ‘Introduction’, p. 5. 93 Wood, ‘General introduction’, p. xvi. The new developments in Prussia are reflected in this essay. Kant discusses his conception of freedom of thought as the ‘subjection of reason under no other laws than those it gives itself ’. I. Kant, ‘What is orientation in thinking?’, in L. W. Beck (ed.), Critique of Practical Reason (London: Garland Publishing Inc., 1967), p. 303. 94 Wood, ‘General introduction’, pp. xvii–xix. 95 Ibid., pp. xix–xx. 96 Ibid., p. xx. 97 Frederick William’s letter to Kant and his response. Kant states in the letter that his book was addressed to the scholar not to the public and explains that he respects Christianity as it is in harmony with moral religion. See I. Kant, ‘The conflict of the faculties, translated, 1798’, trans. M. J. Gregor and R. Anchor, in A. W. Wood and G. Giovanni (eds), Religion and Rational Theology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), pp. 239–42. Kant, however, found the principle ‘argue as much as you want and over whatever you want, but obey’ as ‘proof of the fact that

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though the century of Frederick was an enlightened century, Prussia was far from being an unqualifiedly enlightened state’. See Behrens, Society, Government and the Enlightenment, p. 153. 98 Wood, ‘General introduction’, p. xxii. 99 With a few exceptions, Kant accepts the logic of his time: S. Korner, Kant (Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin Books, 1966), p. 23. 100 I. Kant, Immanuel Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason, trans. Norman Kemp Smith (New York: St Martin’s Press, 1964), p. 18. 101 Ibid., p. 21. 102 Ibid., p. 667. 103 Ibid., pp. 667–8. 104 Ibid., p. 668. 105 Ibid., pp. 668–9. 106 Ibid., p. 58. 107 Ibid., p. 59. 108 Ibid., p. 26. 109 Ibid., pp. 26–7. Kant divides a priori knowledge into two categories: a priori knowledge not absolutely independent from experience and a priori knowledge absolutely independent from experience. For him, the latter is exactly the reverse of empirical or a posteriori knowledge, and it is called ‘pure a priori’. The term transcendental is a very important one for Kant. It means ‘all knowledge which is occupied not so much with objects as with the mode of our knowledge of objects, in so far as this mode of knowledge is possible a priori’. The system of transcendental concepts is therefore called ‘transcendental philosophy’. This shows that Kant’s conception of transcendental philosophy is different from the conception of metaphysics. Transcendental philosophy, as it rests on a priori knowledge, includes (in addition to metaphysics) the whole of mathematics and part of physics. Kant asserts that the use of the term ‘transcendental’ is restricted to the critique of knowledge, not to the relationship between knowledge and its objects. For him, the term ‘transcendental’ concerns the ‘a priori possibility of knowledge, or its a priori employment’. This means that the terms ‘transcendental’ and ‘a priori’ are not synonymous. For him, a priori knowledge is denominated transcendental if, firstly, its intuition or the concept is not of empirical origin, and, secondly, it can relate to an object of experience as a priori. Kant, Immanuel Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason, pp. 43, 59, 96. 110 I. Kant, ‘Critique of practical reason’, in L. W. Beck (ed.), Critique of Practical Reason (London: Garland Publishing Inc., 1967), pp. 118–260. 111 Ibid., p. 155. 112 Kant, Immanuel Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason, p. 32. 113 Ibid., p. 33.

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114 It should be mentioned that Kant himself was an admirer of Hume’s philosophy in his youth: Korner, Kant, p. 16. 115 Kant, Immanuel Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason, p. 49. 116 Ibid., pp. 44–5. 117 Ibid., pp. 43–5. 118 Ibid., p. 668. 119 Ibid., p. 176. 120 Ibid., p. 304. 121 Ibid., p. 93. 122 Ibid., pp. 92–3. 123 Ibid., pp. 41–2. 124 Ibid., p. 93. 125 Ibid., p. 105. 126 Ibid., p. 106. 127 Ibid., p. 162. 128 Ibid., p. 162. 129 Ibid., p. 163. 130 Ibid., pp. 162–3. 131 Ibid., p. 163. 132 Ibid. 133 Ibid., p. 193. 134 Ibid., p. 193. 135 Ibid., p. 127. 136 Ibid., p. 128. 137 Ibid., p. 127. 138 Ibid., p. 128. After Kant shows the mutual dependency between understanding and experience, without which no knowledge arises, he extends this mutual dependency to the relationship between logic and experience. Kant divides logic into general logic and the logic of special employment. He defines general logic as ‘the absolutely necessary rules of thought without which there can be no employment whatsoever of the understanding’, while he defines the logic of special employment as the ‘organon of particular science’. In its turn, general logic is divided into pure and applied logic. The first is the logic which is exercised by our understanding and abstracted from empirical conditions. Kant allocates an analytical function to this kind of logic: he states that the function of general pure logic is to examine and correct only the form of all knowledge. This is extended to what Kant calls ‘transcendental logic’, which is entitled to examine and correct the part of thought which has its origin in our understanding. The result of this is to conduct a ‘transcendental analytic’, which aims at examining the fundamental (not the derivate or composite) elements of pure understanding. Pure understanding is a

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self-subsistent, self-sufficient unity, independent of empirical elements and sensibility. It emerged as a system of coherent knowledge governed by one idea. This shows that the content of knowledge is beyond the function of this kind of logic, and is the matter of experience. This idea was one of the sources of Kant’s originality in the domain of logic. Therefore, he asserts, when general pure logic is used to examine the contents of logic, it becomes dialectical. In this case an argument and its reverse can be proved, as will be shown later in detail in the dialectic of pure reason. The result is that this general pure logic becomes the logic of illusion. See Kant, Immanuel Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason, p. 50. 139 The second intellectual faculty is judgement. For Kant, judgement is ‘the faculty of subsuming under rules, that is, of distinguishing whether something does or does not stand under a given rule’. The rules are given from the understanding. The function of judgement in transcendental philosophy is to specify a priori the cases to which the rule is to be applied. This is under the condition that the concept and the representation of an object must be homogeneous, which means that the concept must include something represented in the object. In transcendental philosophy, where concepts do not relate to objects, judgement is made by what Kant calls the ‘transcendental determination of time’. Kant explains by pointing out that time, a pure intuition, is the ‘third thing’ which is homogeneous between appearances and categories. The categories are the a priori primary non-mathematical concepts without derivations: quality, quantity, relations and modality. Time contains an a priori manifold. At the same time, it connects all representations, and is included in all empirical appearances of the manifold. Therefore, time mediates ‘the subsumption of the appearances under the category’. His distinction between judgement and experience was philosophically unprecedented. Kant points out that there are two kinds of illusion of judgement. The first is empirical, and it occurs when imagination misleads judgement. This cause affects negatively the empirical employment of understanding by the addition of a subjective element to it. The second, which Kant concentrates on most and which will be explained in detail later, is transcendental, and it occurs by the extension of the domain of our understanding beyond experience, as will be shown clearly when discussing the dialectic of pure reason. He argues that such an illusion is caused by taking ‘the subjectivity necessary to a connection of our concepts, which is to the advantage of the understanding, for an objective necessity in the determination of things in themselves’. For him, such an illusion is unavoidable, and only a transcendental criticism, such as his Critique of Pure Reason, would discover and correct it. See Kant, Immanuel Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason, pp. 177–81, 298–9: Korner, Kant, pp. 27, 113–14.

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140 Kant, Immanuel Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason, p. 300. 141 Ibid., pp. 300–1. 142 Ibid., p. 303. 143 Ibid., p. 301. 144 Ibid., pp. 305–6. 145 Ibid., p. 306. 146 Ibid., p. 306. 147 This does not mean the same thing as ‘transcendental’ in Kant’s terminology. It refers instead to the principle that cannot be empirically employed. 148 Ibid., p. 307. 149 Ibid., p. 315. 150 I. Kant, ‘Foundations of the metaphysics of morals’, in L. W. Beck (ed.), Critique of Practical Reason (London: Garland Publishing Inc., 1967), p. 52. 151 Ibid., p. 52. 152 Ibid. 153 Ibid., pp. 67–8. 154 Ibid., pp. 69–70. 155 Ibid., pp. 70–1. 156 Ibid. 157 Ibid., p. 68. 158 Ibid., p. 98. 159 Ibid., p. 98. 160 Ibid., pp. 98–9. 161 Ibid., p. 90. 162 Ibid., p. 99. 163 Ibid. 164 Ibid. 165 Ibid., p. 99. 166 Ibid., p. 100. 167 Ibid., p. 51. 168 Ibid. 169 Ibid., p. 72. 170 Kant, ‘Critique of practical reason’, p. 144. 171 Kant, ‘Foundations of the metaphysics of morals’, p. 72. 172 Ibid., p. 72. In his ‘Foundations of the metaphysics of morals’ Kant does not seem to have a solid account of the will. This is exemplified in his conception of the heteronymous will and its responsibility for its actions, although he does not consider this free will. He realizes these difficulties in his ‘Critique of practical reason’, by his distinction between holy will and moral will. J. R. Silber, ‘The ethical significance of Kant’s religion’, in T. Green and H. Hudson (eds), Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone (London: Harper Torchbook, 1960), pp. xxxii–xxxiii.

Notes to Page 123 173 174 175 176

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Kant, ‘Foundations of the metaphysics of morals’, p. 72. Ibid., pp. 72–3. Kant, ‘Critique of practical reason’, p. 189. Kant, ‘Foundations of the metaphysics of morals’, pp. 73–4. The problematical hypothetical imperative presents ‘the practical necessity of a possible action as a means of achieving something else which one desires’. This kind relates exclusively to the skills we need in order to achieve arbitrary ends: the necessity of mastering a particular science in order to obtain a high social status, for example. Kant calls this problematical hypothetical imperative ‘the rules of skills’. The assertorical hypothetical imperative presents the practical necessity of a possible action as a means of achieving something one may possibly desire. This type relates exclusively to one purpose which we, by nature and a priori, presuppose that we have: that is happiness. According to Kant, the assertorical hypothetical imperative presents the necessity for the actions which promote happiness. He calls this type the ‘rules of prudence’. While both the first and the second types necessitate particular actions with regard to particular ends, the categorical imperative is exactly the opposite. It presents ‘an action as of itself objectively necessary, without regard to any other end’. Kant calls this kind the ‘commands (laws) of morality’. While the two types of hypothetical imperatives are principles, Kant asserts that the categorical imperative is a law. This is because the end of the two hypothetical imperatives is contingent, while the end of the categorical imperative is necessary. Kant asks: ‘How are all these imperatives possible?’ Here, he does not aim at discussing such a possibility from the practical perspective, but from the logical one. The imperative of skill (the problematical hypothetical imperative) is, according to him, an analytical proposition. When someone wills to achieve a particular end, the means is thought within the proposition. The imperative of prudence (the assertorical hypothetical imperative) is, in its turn, also analytical. This is because its end is happiness, which is, according to Kant, an empirical subjective concept. Therefore, Kant treats this type of imperative in the same way as the first one. The only difference between them is that while the end of the imperative of skill is not definite, the end of the imperative of prudence is definite: that is, happiness. See Kant, ‘Foundations of the metaphysics of morals’, pp. 73–9. Some argue that Kant’s account of the categorical reconciles the Christian tradition, which investigates the irrational depths of human nature, and the Platonic one, which asserts that freedom and duty are based on reason. Silber, ‘Ethical significance of Kant’s religion’, p. xxxi. 177 Kant, ‘Foundations of the metaphysics of morals’, p. 78. 178 Ibid., p. 79.

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179 Ibid., p. 80. 180 Ibid., p. 84. 181 Ibid., p. 108. 182 Ibid., pp. 108–9. 183 Ibid., p. 109. 184 Ibid., pp. 108–9. 185 Ibid., p. 103. 186 Ibid., pp. 103–4. 187 Ibid., p. 101. 188 Ibid., p. 102. 189 Ibid., p. 107. 190 Ibid., p. 102. 191 Ibid. 192 Kant, Immanuel Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason, p. 327. 193 Ibid. 194 Ibid., p. 7. 195 Ibid., pp. 327–8. 196 Ibid., p. 328. 197 Many believed in the possibility of ‘rational psychology’ in Kant’s time. See Korner, Kant, p. 111. 198 Kant, Immanuel Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason, p. 371. 199 Ibid., p. 369. 200 Ibid., p. 376. 201 Ibid., p. 393. Kant asserts that such a dialectic conflict is completely different from sophistical propositions for two reasons. The first concerns the purpose: while sophistical propositions are about arbitrary issues, this dialectical conflict deals with questions which the human reason must encounter in its pursuit of truth. The second is regarding the outcome: while sophistical propositions create an artificial illusion, which can easily be discovered and undermined, the dialectical conflict yields a natural and inevitable illusion. Such an illusion is not easy to discover and undermine, except by the sceptical method. Here, Kant distinguishes between the sceptical method and scepticism. For him, the latter, which he heavily attacks, is merely an instrument for the destruction of the reliability and credibility of all knowledge. The first, however, is an instrument of judgement: ‘It seeks to discover the point of misunderstanding in the case of disputes which are sincerely and competently conducted by both sides.’ Therefore, in contrast to scepticism, the sceptical method aims at enhancing the reliability and credibility of knowledge. Kant points out that as such a method is exclusively attached to transcendental philosophy, a transcendental antithetic is the only capable instrument of discovering and undermining the illusion of dialectical conflict. See Kant, Immanuel Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason, pp. 394–6.

Notes to Pages 127–131 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209

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Ibid., p. 424. Ibid., p. 424. Ibid., p. 425. Ibid., p. 426. Ibid., p. 427. Ibid., p. 439. Ibid., p. 450. Ibid., p. 454. Kant argues that there are two disadvantages in the constitutive, rather than the regulative, employment of reason, that is, by assuming God’s purposes in nature, instead of discovering them in nature and then adhering them to God. The first is that this would lead to the stagnancy of reason, or, in his words, to the ignova ratio. This refers to the belief that nature has already been discovered, and there is no reason for any further investigation. The second is that it would result in confusion between the cause and the result, or what Kant calls the perversa ratio. This refers to the misleading attempt to understand nature through assumed theological purposes, when the process should be reversed. See Kant, Immanuel Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason, pp. 561–4. 210 Ibid., p. 452. 211 Ibid. 212 Ibid., p. 448. 213 Ibid. 214 Ibid., p. 456. 215 Ibid., p. 457. 216 Ibid., p. 457. 217 Ibid., p. 459. 218 Ibid., pp. 459–61. 219 Ibid., p. 464. 220 Ibid., p. 465. 221 Ibid., p. 465. 222 Ibid., p. 470. 223 Ibid., pp. 467–8. 224 Ibid., p. 468. 225 Ibid., p. 467. 226 Ibid., p. 472. 227 Ibid., p. 473. 228 Ibid., p. 475. 229 Ibid., p. 476. 230 Ibid., p. 473. 231 Ibid., p. 481. 232 Ibid. 233 Ibid., p. 481.

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234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241

Ibid., p. 485. Ibid., p. 486. Ibid., p. 486. Ibid., p. 500. Ibid., p. 498. Ibid., p. 498. Ibid., p. 500. Kant’s discussion of God in the fourth antinomy is cosmological (a being within the world) while his discussion of God as ideal is a theological one, referring to him as an intelligible being outside the world. See S. J. ‘Azm, The Origins of Kant’s Arguments in the Antinomies (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1972), pp. 112–14. 242 For Kant, the ontological proof is based solely on an a priori concept of God. Kant asserts that here, exactly, lies the invalidity of such a proof: the ontological proof presents an arbitrary a priori concept without an object. Furthermore, it presents a negative definition of God as ‘something the non-existence of which is impossible’. Beyond such a definition, Kant argues, there are no further enquiries on God’s condition or objects. Conversely, the cosmological proof starts from experience in order to prove the a priori concept of God. Its proof is grounded in the principle of causality: as the world exists, there must be a supreme cause of its existence; that is God. Kant points out that such a proof contains many pseudo-rational principles, creating the greatest possible transcendental illusion. The first transcendental illusion is that the principle of causality is employed by the cosmological proof in order to prove an a priori concept. Kant argues that such a strategy violates the principle of causality, which must be employed only within the sensible world. The second transcendental illusion is that the cosmological proof asserts, without any sort of empirical proof, that the supreme cause is the end of the empirical series of causality. Furthermore, if God is the end of this series within the empirical world, there is no good reason not to believe that He Himself is under the law of causality and caused by another supreme cause. On the other hand, if the cosmological proof presents God as outside the sensible world, His effect on the empirical series of causality would not be valid for experience, and would not be empirically linked to that empirical series. As a result, Kant concludes that the proof presented by the cosmological proof is merely an excuse to prove an a priori concept of God, which sends us back to the ontological proof. He explains: For how can any experience ever be adequate to an idea? The peculiar nature of the latter consists just in the fact that no experience can ever be equal to it. The transcendental idea of a

Notes to Pages 132–134

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necessary and all-sufficient original being is so overwhelmingly great, so high above everything empirical, the latter being always conditioned, that it leaves us at a loss, partly because we can never find in experience material sufficient to satisfy such a concept, and partly because it is always in the sphere of the conditioned that we carry out our search, seeking there ever vainly for the unconditioned – no law of any empirical synthesis giving us an example of any such unconditioned or providing the least guidance in its pursuit. (Kant, Immanuel Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason, p. 518)

See Kant, Immanuel Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason, pp. 501–19. Strawson shows a critical attitude towards Kant’s cosmological argument in his detailed and influential study. See P. F. Strawson, The Bounds of Sense: an Essay on Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason (Bristol: J. W. Arrowsmith Ltd, 1985), pp. 175–206. 243 Kant, Immanuel Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason, p. 521. 244 Ibid., p. 520. 245 Ibid., p 522. 246 Ibid. Despite Kant’s argument, Averroes, who presents a physico-theological argument for the existence of God, believes that God is the artisan and the creator of the world. 247 Kant, Immanuel Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason, p. 524. 248 Ibid., p. 531. 249 Kant, ‘Critique of practical reason’, p. 119. 250 Ibid., p. 119. 251 Ibid., p. 226. 252 Ibid., p. 235. 253 Ibid., p. 238. 254 Ibid. Kant explains what it means to have an objective reality by saying:

That is to say, they show by this that they have objects, but we cannot indicate how their concept refers to an object; this, too, is not yet knowledge of these objects, for we can thereby neither make synthetic judgment about them nor theoretically determine their application (p. 238).

255 Kant, ‘Critique of practical reason’, pp. 235–6. 256 Ibid., pp. 119–21. 257 Ibid., pp. 181–9. 258 Ibid. 259 Ibid., p. 118. Kant’s conception of freedom in the first critique is grounded in a general account of man as a rational agent rather than a moral one (p. 109). This relates to Kant’s distinction between spontaneity and autonomy. The first is the capacity of rational agents to act (prudentially) the

246

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second is the capacity of the moral agents in particular to act through their pure practical reason, independently of inclinations. The first relates to rational agents, the second to moral agents. See Alison, Kant–Eberhard Controversy, pp. 109, 129; ‘Azm, Origins of Kant’s Arguments, pp. 89–92. 260 Beiser, ‘Kant’s intellectual development’, pp. 28–30. 261 Kant, ‘Critique of practical reason’, p. 47. 262 Ibid., p. 106. 263 Ibid., p. 108. 264 Ibid., p. 109. 265 Ibid., pp. 109–10. 266 Ibid., p. 110. 267 Ibid., pp. 108–9. 268 Ibid., p. 140. 269 Ibid., p. 179. 270 I. Kant, Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone, trans. T. Green and H. Hudson (London: Harper Torchbook, 1960), p. 156. 271 Ibid. 272 Ibid., p. 156. 273 Kant, Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone, p. 167. Kant defines Enlightenment as ‘man’s release from his self-incurred tutelage. Tutelage is man’s inability to make use of his understanding without direction from another’ (p. 286). Particularly in religious matters, Kant asserts that Enlightenment is the result of freedom. This freedom, he points out, is the freedom of the public to use their own reason. In this regard, Kant determines two uses of freedom. The first is public, and it indicates the scholarly use of freedom. This use of freedom is not harmful at all to the community. The second is the private, and it refers to the personal expression of thought through conversation or post. Kant, ‘What is Enlightenment?’, pp. 287–91. 274 Ibid., pp. 167–8. Kant describes someone as rationalist if he ‘interprets the rational religion alone as morally necessary, i.e, as duty’. The naturalist, on the other hand, ‘denies the reality of all supernatural divine revelation’. The pure rationalist is one who ‘recognizes revelation, but asserts that to know and accept it as real is not a necessary requisite to religion’. The pure supernaturalist is one who ‘holds that belief in it is necessary to universal religion’. Kant, Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone, p. 143. 275 Ibid., p. 168. 276 Ibid., pp. 175–6. 277 Ibid., p. 177. 278 Ibid., p. 174. 279 Ibid., p. 177.

Notes to Pages 138–141 280 281 282 283 284

247

Ibid., p. 116. Ibid., pp. 116–17. Ibid., p. 117. Ibid., p. 118. Ibid., p. 119. Kant’s critical attitude to Judaism can be traced to Luther. See M. Mazughi, Immanuel Kant, al-din fi hudud al-‘aql aw al-tanwir al-naqis (Beirut: Dar al-Saqi, 2007), p. 163. 285 Kant, Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone, p. 155. 286 Ibid., p. 153. 287 Ibid., p. 95. 288 Ibid., p. 106. 289 Ibid., p. 94. 290 Ibid., p. 95. 291 Ibid., p. 96. 292 Ibid., p. 95. 293 Ibid., pp. 96–7. 294 Ibid., p. 106. 295 Ibid., pp. 100–1. 296 This is the stated aim of his Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone. 297 Ibid., pp. 101–2. 298 Ibid., p. 102. 299 Ibid., p. 103. 300 Ibid., pp. 97–8. Kant asserts that we have to interpret the Bible to fit with the moral law through reason. This is because it is a sign of its divinity to agree with reason. Otherwise we have to interpret it historically, which will make it inconsistent with itself. See I. Kant, ‘The conflict of the faculties, 1798’, trans. M. J. Gregor and R. Anchor, in A. W. Wood and G. Giovanni (eds), Religion and Rational Theology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), p. 270. 301 Kant, Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone, p. 105. For Kant, the government is an institution based on reason. It influences its subjects through controlling three aspects of human life: their eternal well-being, that is, theology; their civil well-being, that is, law; and their physical well-being, that is, medicine. Therefore, Kant asserts that the Bible is vital for the government, as it is the source for harmony within society. Kant, ‘Conflict of the Faculties’, pp. 250, 287. For more information about the principles of interpreting the Bible in detail, see pp. 264–9. 302 Kant, Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone, pp. 122–3. 303 Ibid., p. 123. 304 Ibid., pp. 123–4. Kant describes the tolerant ruler who does not interfere in the religious beliefs of his subjects as enlightened. Kant, ‘What is Enlightenment?’, p. 291.

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305 Kant, ‘Critique of practical reason’, p. 229. 306 Ibid., p. 231. 307 Ibid., pp. 231–2. Kant also states: That law of all laws, like every moral prescription of the Gospel, thus presents the moral disposition in its complete perfection, and though as an ideal of holiness it is unattainable by any creature, it is yet an archetype which we should strive to approach and to imitate in an uninterrupted infinite progress. If a rational creature could ever reach the stage of thoroughly liking to do all moral laws, it would mean that there was no possibility of there being in him a desire which could tempt him to deviate from them, for overcoming such a desire costs the subject some sacrifice and requires selfcompulsion, i.e., an inner constraint to do that which one does quite like to do. (p. 190)

308 309 310 311 312 313

Ibid., pp. 192–3. Ibid., p. 199. Ibid., p. 232. Ibid., p. 234. Ibid., p. 227. I. Kant, ‘Perpetual peace: A philosophical sketch’, in L. W. Beck (ed.), Critique of Practical Reason (London: Garland Publishing Inc., 1967), p. 331. 314 Ibid., p. 332. 315 Kant, ‘Perpetual peace’, p. 337. 316 Ibid., p. 333. 317 Ibid., p. 333. 318 Ibid. Here, Kant might be talking about his own condition as a Prussian citizen. 319 Ibid., p. 334. 320 Ibid. 321 Ibid., p. 336. 322 Ibid., p. 335. 323 Ibid., p. 335. 324 Ibid., p. 337. 325 Ibid., p. 338. 326 Ibid., p. 339. 327 Ibid., p. 341. 328 Ibid., p. 340. 329 Ibid., p. 341. 330 Ibid., p. 341. 331 Ibid., pp. 341–2. However, the purpose of the French revolution made him change his opinion, and to support it. See P. P. Nicholson, ‘Kant,

Notes to Pages 146–148

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revolution and history’, in H. Williams (ed.), Essays on Kant’s Political Philosophy (Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 1992), pp. 249–68. 332 Kant, ‘Perpetual peace’, p. 342. 333 Ibid., p. 343. 334 Ibid., p. 344. 335 Ibid., pp. 344–5. 336 Ibid., p. 345. 337 Ibid. Kant’s argument on the relationship between morality (freedom) and politics is rooted in his account of the nature of man and the endless struggle between good and evil within mankind. This occupies a significant part of his Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone. This argument can also be considered as being the root of his account of the relationship between morality (freedom) and religion. See Kant, Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone, pp. 27–78. 338 Kant, ‘Perpetual peace’, p. 306. 339 Ibid., p. 307. 340 Ibid., p. 307. 341 Ibid., p. 308. 342 Ibid. 343 Ibid., p. 309. 344 Ibid. Some argue that one of Kant’s aims in his preliminary articles on perpetual peace is to criticize the absolutism that was represented by the Prussian state itself. See M. Lutz-Bachmann, ‘Kant’s ideal of peace and the philosophical conception of a world republic’, in J. Bohman and M. Lutz-Bachmann (eds), Perpetual Peace: Essays on Kant’s Cosmopolitan Ideal (London and Cambridge MA: The MIT Press, 1997), p. 61. 345 A part of the political importance of the Perpetual Peace is its philosophical significance, as it represents a philosophical account of peace justified by philosophical means. The definitive articles, in particular, represent the normative conception of Kant’s account of peace. See Lutz-Bachmann, ‘Kant’s ideal of peace’, pp. 60–4. 346 Kant, ‘Perpetual peace’, p. 312. 347 Ibid., p. 313. For more detailed discussion of Kant’s principles of the external laws that are in harmony with freedom, see I. Kant, ‘On the common saying: “This may be true in theory, but it does not apply in practice”’, trans. H. B. Nisbet, in H. Reiss (ed.), Political Writings (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), pp. 61–92. Here, he was attacking Hobbes’ argument that the government has no obligation to the people. 348 Kant, ‘Perpetual peace’, p. 312. 349 Ibid., p. 314. 350 Ibid. Kant argues that the members of a society may form an ‘artificial

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unanimity’ in order to fulfil the ends of the community, which are directed by its government. Arguing against this artificial unanimity, and expressing freedom of thought regarding a command given, would be harmful to society. However, the exercise of the first type of freedom in the scholarly manner would not be so. Kant shows his admiration for Frederick II, who stated, ‘Argue as much you will, and about what you will, but obey!’ See Kant, ‘What is orientation in thinking?’, pp. 287–8. 351 Kant, ‘Perpetual peace’, p. 314. 352 Ibid., pp. 314–15. 353 Ibid., p. 315. 354 Ibid., p. 314. 355 Ibid., p. 315. 356 Ibid., p. 315. 357 Kant, ‘Foundations of the metaphysics of morals’, p. 85. 358 Ibid., p. 86. 359 Ibid., p. 85. 360 Ibid., pp. 85–6. 361 Ibid., p. 86. 362 Ibid. 363 Ibid., p. 87. 364 Ibid., p. 87. 365 Ibid., p. 89. 366 Ibid. 367 Ibid., p. 90. 368 Ibid., p. 90. 369 Ibid., p. 91. 370 Ibid., p. 90. 371 Ibid., p. 91. 372 Ibid., p. 95. Kant highlights that, nature’s highest purpose is the development of man’s natural capabilities through living in a society, and man’s accomplishment of his ends by his efforts, through his freedom based on reason (p. 45). As this causes antagonism within society, the task for men, by nature, is to establish a just constitution which governs them through external laws enabling them to develop themselves by their freedom. The laws of nations are governed by the just constitution of each state. I. Kant, ‘Idea for a universal history with a cosmopolitan purpose’, trans. H. B. Nisbet, in H. Reiss (ed.), Political Writings (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), pp. 46–51. 373 Kant, ‘Foundations of the metaphysics of morals’, pp. 91–2.

Notes to Pages 154–161

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Chapter 4 1

As my definition of enlightenment states: towards political and social reform through a political ideal based on philosophical insight. 2 J. Montada, ‘Philosophy in Andalusia: Ibn Bajja and Ibn Tufayl’, in P. Damson and R. Taylor (eds), The Cambridge Companion to Arabic Philosophy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), p. 155. 3 Ibid., p. 156. 4 Ibid., p. 162. 5 Ibid., pp. 164–5. 6 Ibid., pp. 167–8. 7 P. Adamson, ‘Al-Kindi and the reception of Greek philosophy’, in P. Damson and R. Taylor (eds), The Cambridge Companion to Arabic Philosophy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), pp. 1–4. 8 C. D’Ancona, ‘Greek into Arabic: Neoplatonism in translation’, in P. Damson and R. Taylor (eds), The Cambridge Companion to Arabic Philosophy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), p. 15. 9 Ibid., p. 46. 10 R. Wisnovsky, ‘Avicenna and the Avicennian tradition’, in P. Damson and R. Taylor (eds), The Cambridge Companion to Arabic Philosophy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), p. 92. 11 Ibid., pp. 127–33. 12 Montada, ‘Philosophy in Andalusia’, pp. 173–6; T. De Boer, The History of Philosophy in Islam, trans. Edward Jones (Hertford: Stephen Austin and Son Ltd, 1970), p. 177. 13 F. Beiser, ‘Kant’s intellectual development: 1746–1781’, in P. Guyer (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Kant (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992), pp. 28–30. 14 See Chapter 2 for more information on Averroes’ thoughts on the uses of demonstrative, rhetorical and dialectic language. 15 Kant’s religious strategy, which is his account of the relationship between reason and revelation, has been elaborated in Chapter 3 and in the previous section of this chapter. 16 This was discussed in detail in Chapter 3. 17 Averroes, Averroes’ Commentary on Plato’s Republic, ed. E. I. J. Rosenthal (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1969), p. 112. 18 Ibid. 19 Averroes, Middle Commentary on Aristotle’s De Anima, ed. Alfred Ivry (Provo, UT: Brigham Young University Press, 2002), p. 51; M. Jabri, al-‘Aql al-akhlaqi al-‘arabi, dirasah tahliliyyah li-nizam al-qiyam fi-l-thaqafah al‘arabiyyah (Beirut: Markaz Dirasat al-Wahdah al-‘Arabiyyah, 2001), p. 382. 20 This makes some interpreters who follow a Straussian method of

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interpretation, such as Butterworth, mistakenly assert that Averroes shows an ‘explicit endorsement’ of some of Plato’s ideas. These include the community of women and children and the regulations pertaining to sexual intercourse, as has been shown in Chapters 1 and 2. 21 Averroes, Faith and Reason in Islam: the Exposition of Religious Arguments, trans. Ibrahim Najjar (Oxford: Oneworld Publications, 2001), p. 71. 22 Averroes, Averroes’ Commentary on Plato’s Republic, p. 190. 23 Averroes, Faith and Reason in Islam, p. 17. 24 R. Taylor, ‘Averroes: religious dialectic and Aristotelian philosophical thought’, in P. Damson and R. Taylor (eds), The Cambridge Companion to Arabic Philosophy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), p. 187. 25 M. Fakhry, Ethical Theories in Islam (New York: E. J. Brill, 1991), p. 91. 26 Ibid., p. 305. 27 Ibid. 28 Ghazali, who receives heavy criticism from many contemporary Arab thinkers, has produced a rich, influential and public literature in moralpolitical philosophy. See A. Black, The History of Islamic Political Thought, from the Prophet to the Present (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2001), pp 101–7. The depth and range of his contribution is comparable to that of Kant. See M. Abdulah, Kant and Ghazali: the Idea of Universality of Ethical Norms (Frankfurt: Verlag Y. Landeck, 2000). Some even argue that the political orientation of Islamic philosophy is represented in Ghazali’s thought. See M. Mahdi, The Political Orientation of Islamic Philosophy (Washington: Centre for Contemporary Arab Studies, 1982). 29 Taylor, ‘Averroes: religious dialectic’, p. 181. 30 I. Kant, ‘What is Enlightenment?’, in L. W. Beck (ed.), Critique of Practical Reason (London: Garland Publishing Inc., 1967), p. 287. 31 D. Reisman, ‘Al-Farabi and the philosophical curriculum’, in P. Damson and R. Taylor (eds), The Cambridge Companion to Arabic Philosophy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), p. 68. 32 Ibid., p. 67. For a detailed and comparative study of conceptions and employment of modes of discourse in Farabi, Avicenna and Averroes, see D. Black, Logic and Aristotle’s Rhetoric and Poetics in Medieval Arabic Philosophy (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1990); J. Lameer, Al-Farabi and Aristotelian Syllogistic, Greek Theory and Islamic Practice (New York: E. J. Brill, 1994). 33 M. Galston, Politics and Excellence: the Political Philosophy of Alfarabi (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990), pp. 38–9. 34 Ibid., pp. 38–9. 35 Adamson, ‘Al-Kindi and the reception of Greek philosophy’, p. 68. 36 I. Kant, ‘Perpetual peace: A philosophical sketch’, in L. W. Beck (ed.), Critique of Practical Reason, London: Garland Publishing Inc., 1967), pp. 329–30. 37 Ibid., p. 330.

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Chapter 5 Maqasid al-shari‘ah refers to the rationally inducted ultimate goal of Islamic faith, which is the preservation of every individual’s religion, life, lineage, intellect and property. Masalih al-mursalah refers to the principle in Islamic jurisprudence that permits issuing religious verdicts that prohibit or permit something on the grounds of contextual public good. In addition to the teleology of the Shari‘ah, the revealed texts are interpreted according to the rules of the Arabic language. 2 Averroes, Averroes, on the Harmony of Religion and Philosophy, ed. G. Hourani (Beirut: Gibb Memorial Trust, 1976), p. 52. 3 Ibn Rushd, Tahafut al-tahafut, ed. S. Dunya (Cairo: Dar al-Ma‘arif, 1964), p. 896. 4 I. Kant, Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone, trans. T. Green and H. Hudson (London: Harper Torchbook, 1960), p. 145. 5 I. Kant, ‘The conflict of the faculties, translated, 1798’, trans. M. J. Gregor and R. Anchor, in A. W. Wood and G. Giovanni (eds), Religion and Rational Theology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), pp. 246–9. 6 Kant, Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone, pp. 98–9. 7 Ibid., pp. 121–2. 8 Ibid., p. 122. 9 Ibid. While Wolff completely accepts revelation, Reimarus asserts that reason and revelation cannot be reconciled and the decline of Christianity is preferable and forthcoming. Kant, although he disagreed with him, respected and admired him in his early writings. On the other hand, Lessing and Kant share the position of a distrust of history and its credibility as the vehicle of truth. But their position was similar regarding the progress of man’s insight. Both advocated the ‘religion of the Christ’, instead of the Christian religion. See T. M. Green, ‘Introduction’, in T. Green and H. Hudson (eds), Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone (London: Harper Torchbook, 1960), pp. xvii–xxii. 10 Kant, Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone, p. 120. 11 Ibid., p. 121. 12 Ibid., pp. 143–4. 13 Ibid., p. 143. 14 Ibid., p. 144. 15 Ibid., p. 113. 16 The logical employment of reason in Kant’s thought can be found in I. Kant, Immanuel Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason, trans. Norman Kemp Smith (New York: St Martin’s Press, 1964), p. 300. 17 Averroes, Harmony of Religion and Philosophy, p. 44. 1

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18 Averroes, Faith and Reason in Islam: the Exposition of Religious Arguments, trans. Ibrahim Najjar (Oxford: Oneworld Publications, 2001), pp. 33–8. 19 Kant, Immanuel Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason, p. 525. 20 Ibid., p. 531. 21 I. Kant, ‘Critique of practical reason’, in L. W. Beck (ed.), Critique of Practical Reason (London: Garland Publishing Inc., 1967), p. 240. 22 Ibid., pp. 240–1. 23 Ibid., p. 242. 24 Ibid., p. 208. 25 Ibid., p. 207. 26 Ibid. Kant, like Averroes, criticizes the theory of emanation as a way to explain creation. For him, if God is a necessary being, what emanates from him must also be necessary, although what is actually created is contingent. Furthermore, the theory of emanation involves a unity between God and the world (a unity of cause and effect) which he asserts is absurd. See I. Kant, ‘Lectures on the philosophical doctrine of religion’, trans. A. W. Wood and G. Giovanni, in A. Wood and G. Giovanni (eds), Religion and Rational Theology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), pp. 335–451, at 422–3. 27 Green, ‘Introduction’, p. 130. 28 Kant, Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone, p. 131. 29 Ibid., p. 132. 30 Ibid., p. 133. 31 Ibid., p. 177. 32 Ibid., p. 170. 33 Ibid., p. 3. 34 Ibid., pp. 3–4. 35 Ibid., p. 4. 36 Ibid., p. 85. 37 Kant believes our reason tells us that there is a last day in order to adhere to the highest end of our existence: I. Kant, ‘The end of all things, 1794’, trans. A. W. Wood, in A. W. Wood and G. Giovanni (eds), Religion and Rational Theology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), p. 224. 38 Kant, Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone, p. 142. 39 Kant, ‘Critique of practical reason’, p. 214. 40 Ibid., p. 215. 41 Ibid., p. 217. 42 Ibid., p. 219. 43 Kant, Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone, p. 90. 44 Ibid., p. 127. 45 Ibid. Kant asserts that we cannot derive a law of history from man’s behaviour because it varies from animality to rationality, which makes his

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conduct vary from purposive manners to childish ones. However, what we need to look at is nature’s purpose in history. For Kant, nature has given man reason, which is the ground of freedom of will, and this shows its purpose. In this regard, Kant introduces his conception of the Rechtsstaat as the state which is governed by the law. See I. Kant, ‘Idea for a universal history with a cosmopolitan purpose’, trans. H. B. Nisbet, in H. Reiss (ed.), Political Writings (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), pp. 41–3; H. Reiss, ‘Introduction’, trans. H. B. Nisbet, in H. Reiss (ed.), Political Writings (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), p. 11. 46 Kant, Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone, p. 91. 47 Ibid., pp. 90–1. 48 I. Kant, ‘The metaphysics of morals’, trans. H. B. Nisbet, in H. Reiss (ed.), Political Writings (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), pp. 131–57. 49 Ibid., p. 133. 50 Kant, Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone, p. 87. 51 Ibid., pp. 87–8. 52 Ibid., p. 88. 53 Ibid., p. 89. 54 Ibid., p. 89. 55 Ibid., p. 88. 56 Ibid., p. 90. 57 P. Adamson, ‘Al-Kindi and the reception of Greek philosophy’, in P. Damson and R. Taylor (eds), The Cambridge Companion to Arabic Philosophy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), p. 73; M. Fakhry, Ethical Theories in Islam (New York: E. J. Brill, 1991), pp. 67–70. 58 T. De Boer, The History of Philosophy in Islam, trans. Edward Jones (Hertford: Stephen Austin and Son Ltd, 1970), p. 123. 59 Ibid., p. 177; C. Butterworth, ‘Ethical and political philosophy’, in P. Damson and R. Taylor (eds), The Cambridge Companion to Arabic Philosophy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), pp. 266–86. 60 Averroes, Faith and Reason in Islam: the Exposition of Religious Arguments, p. 115. 61 Kant, Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone, p. 85. The Christian influence on Kant is exemplified by his ideas on the conflict of the members. Kant followed St Paul in referring this to human nature, instead of the Platonic interpretation which attributes it to ignorance. J. R. Silber, ‘The ethical significance of Kant’s religion’, in T. Green and H. Hudson (eds), Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone (London: Harper Torchbook, 1960), p. xxxv. 62 Kant, Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone, pp. 85–6. 63 Ibid., p. 86.

256 64 65 66 67 68 69

Notes to Pages 195–196 Ibid., p. 92. Ibid., p. 93. Ibid., p. 92. Ibid., p. 92. Ibid., p. 93. See Chapter 3.

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INDEX

Abduh, Muhammad 5, 23, 201 absolutism 104, 249n344 Abu’l Walid Muhammad bin Rushd see Averroes Abu Zayd, Nasr 212n48 al-Afghani, Jamal al-Din 5, 23 Al-Kashf ʿan manahij al-adilla (Exposition of the Methods of Proof): audience 79–80, 81, 163; Averroes 61–2, 72, 74, 160; concept of existence 90; discourses 82; freedom 196; God 183; ideal state 192; religion 164; revelation 178 Almohad dynasty: Averroes 162, 165–6, 204; Commentary on Plato’s Republic 83; al-Ghazali, Abu Hamid ibn Muhammad 70; legitimacy 64; philosophy 168; political regimes 167 Almoravid dynasty 63–4, 86, 155, 191 Amin, Qasim 23, 201 Andalusia: Arab society 63; al-Jabri, Muhammad 36; philosophical trends 155; philosophy 38, 66, 157; rationality 202; reason and revelation 157; trade 45 al-Ansari, Muhammad 27, 39–40, 202 Anton, Farah 14, 22, 23, 200–1, 204 approaches 53–8, 59, 202 Aquinas, Thomas 8, 42 Arab: modernity 39; philosophy 36, 40; reason 39; society 39, 40; Spring 199 Arab enlightenment: Arab scholarship 17; arguments 14; authentic discourse 6, 59; Averroes 6–10, 58, 173; criticisms 41–2; development 7, 9; discourses

5, 21; Enlightenment, The 10–13; failures 7, 99; Hanafi, Hasan 24; incomplete 10–11; intellectual revolution 11–12; Muʿtazila 27; reason and revelation 62; roots 4–5 Arab-Islamic: culture 47–8; enlightenment 2, 135, 173, 199; history 27; philosophy 44, 45, 201; scholarship 43, 63 Arab-Islamic civilization: Averroes 23, 28; decline 28, 32, 37; enlightenment 42; history 27; ʿirfan (mysticism) 30; progress 33; roots 43 Arab-Islamic heritage: Arab enlightenment 11, 200; Arkoun, Muhammad 41, 42; authentic discourse 58–9; critique 39; discourses 17; enlightenment 201, 206–7; Hanafi, Hasan 24, 184; ideology 25; inspiration 18; modernity 23; modernized authentic discourse 34; philosophy 44; Western philosophy 25–6; Westernized discourse 34, 45–6 Arab-Islamic society: Arab enlightenment 10; Greek philosophy 26; humanism 42; jurists 63–4; modernity 58; oppression 1; philosophy 16, 26–7, 44; values 199; western wing 38 Arab scholarship: Almoravid dynasty 64; Arab enlightenment 17; Averroes 62, 100, 153, 158, 203; Commentary on Plato’s Republic 167; critique 55; enlightenment 207; Enlightenment, The 15–16; reason and revelation 156–7, 173; textual analysis 54–5

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Arab thought: cultural heritage 206; enlightenment 3, 207; intellectual authority 23; Kant, Immanuel 16–17, 100; modernity 4; philosophy 24, 25; reason and revelation 135 Aristotle: Almohad dynasty 166; Andalusia 155; Averroes 2, 6, 7, 61, 66, 154; Avicenna 37; commentaries 156; De Anima 61; De Caelo 61; alFarabi, Abu Nasr 31, 167; al-Ghazali, Abu Hamid ibn Muhammad 69; ideal state 90; influence 67, 78–9, 92; Islamic philosophy 33; knowledge 171; al-Maʾmun, Abu Jaʿfar Abdullah 30–1; Metaphysics 61; natural philosophy 181; Nicomachean Ethics 61, 161; Physics 61, 84; Politics 159, 161; Posterior Analytics 61; Rhetoric 81, 82; rhetorical argument 95; syllogistic reasoning 70, 71; theory of discourse 79, 162; Tizini, Tayyib 45; Topics 82; translations into Arabic 38, 61 Arkoun, Muhammad: aims 41–2; Averroes 201; Enlightenment, The 41, 42; Kant, Immanuel 16; philosophy 44; political modernity 42–3; Westernized discourse 40 audience: Al-Kashf ʿan manahij aladilla (Exposition of the Methods of Proof) 79–80, 81, 163; Averroes 200; Averroes and Kant, Immanuel 154–5; Critique of Practical Reason, A 160; discourses 81; enlightenment 162–9; Kant, Immanuel 196; philosophy 64 authentic discourse: Arab enlightenment 12, 21, 200; Arab-Islamic enlightenment 6; Arab-Islamic heritage 11; Averroes 9–10, 201; modernity 58; Muʿtazila 27; response 23; traditional values 21 authority: Averroes 177; corruption 171; differences 178; heritage 35; interpretation 176; Kant, Immanuel 177; philosophers 200; political rulers 105; religious texts 36; revelation 98, 173–4, 175–82, 194, 197; Wolff,

Christian 106 autonomy 149, 150 Avempace: Almoravid dynasty 64; Aristotle 155; Averroes 66, 156; Conduct of the Solitary 67, 155; morality and politics 194; religion and philosophy 32 Averroes: Al-Kashf ʿan manahij al-adilla (Exposition of the Methods of Proof) 61–2, 72, 74, 90, 160, 163, 164, 178, 183, 192, 196; Bidayat al-mujtahid (The Discretionary Scholar) 61, 92–3, 194–5; Commentary on Aristotle’s Rhetoric 94–5; Commentary on De Anima 85; Commentary on Plato’s Republic 22, 34, 52, 83, 89, 160–1, 166; Exposition of the Methods of Proofs, The 52; Faith and Reason in Islam, the Exposition of Religious Arguments 72–3; Fasl al-maqal fima bayn-lhikmat wa-l-shariʿah min-l-iitisal (Decisive Treaty on the Relation of Philosophy and Religion) 61, 70–1, 74, 75, 78, 82, 159–60, 175, 176, 178, 180; Middle Commentaries on De Anima 164; Middle Commentaries on Plato’s Republic 164; Tahafut al-tahafut (The Incoherence of the Incoherence) 8, 62, 70, 160 Avicenna: Averroes 37, 66; denounced 8; external arguments 96; al-Ghazali, Abu Hamid ibn Muhammad 69; al-Jabri, Muhammad 31; natural philosophy 181; philosophy 37, 155; reason and revelation 157; soul 37–8; theory of emanation 32, 68; Trabishi, Jurj 38 al-ʿAzmah, ʿAziz 34–6, 201 bayan (eloquence) 29–30 Berkeley, George 15, 109, 156 Bible 107, 177, 247n300 Bidayat al-mujtahid (The Discretionary Scholar) 92–3, 194–5 Bodin, Jean 104 books burned 64, 65

Index burhan (rational proof) 31, 32 Butterworth, Charles 52, 202 censorship 112, 168 Christianity: faith 138, 179; morality 141; New Testament 177; philosophy 36, 112; Pietism 106; revelation 108; superiority 141; Trabishi, Jurj 39 Church: Enlightenment, The 1; faith 137; Kant, Immanuel 111, 178, 179, 205; moral law 195; reason 139; state 110–11; truth 152 classical political philosophy 49, 50 commentaries: Aristotle 156; Averroes 7, 61, 67, 81, 159, 203; criticisms 38; discourses 82; knowledge 171; Nicomachean Ethics 161; pedagogy 154; purpose 96 Commentary on Aristotle’s Metaphysics 9, 22, 61 Commentary on Aristotle’s Rhetoric 94–5 Commentary on De Anima 85 Commentary on Plato’s Republic: Averroes 34, 52; human soul 85; political thought 83, 160–1; Yahya, Abu 89, 166 communication 94, 162, 164–5, 167, 169, 172 comparisons: Averroes and Kant, Immanuel 15, 16, 58, 99–100, 204–5; jihad (holy war) 92; morality 141; philosophical traditions 31; reason 42 concepts: existence 90; faith 136–7, 152; free will 150; freedom 124–5, 134, 196, 205, 206; ideal state 86, 93–4, 189, 193; interpretation 175; knowledge 118, 133; moral law 120; moral obligations 130; morality 121, 131, 144, 151; perfection 122; perpetual peace 146; philosophy 70, 72, 167, 169, 176; pure reason 132; realm of ends 150–1; reason 119, 131, 181; religion 142; republican constitution 146; right 190–1; state 147; theology 184; understanding 119; virtue 186 Conduct of the Solitary 67, 155 conflict 7, 143, 145, 148

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Conflict of the Faculties 102, 112, 177 consciousness 57, 59 consensus 71–2, 75, 95, 227n42 context: Averroes 62, 84, 158–9, 202; ideal state 91; Kant, Immanuel 99, 104–5, 106–12 contextual methodology 53, 55, 90 continuity: Arab-Islamic heritage 41; Arab-Islamic society 27–8; Arkoun, Muhammad 40; heritage 26, 36, 39; Marxism 44 contradiction 110, 154, 163 contributions 88, 158, 170 corruption 171, 195 creation 183, 185 credibility 115, 141 crisis 25, 26 criticisms: absolutism 249n344; Averroes 8; commentaries 38; al-Ghazali, Abu Hamid ibn Muhammad 72; al-Jabri, Muhammad 37; Kant, Immanuel 115; scholars 80 critique: Arab-Islamic heritage 39; Arab scholarship 55; Averroes 73; Hume, David 109; al-Jabri, Muhammad 41; Kant, Immanuel 115; moral theories 121; philosophy 68; pure reason 126 Critique of Arab Reason 204 Critique of Judgement 101, 110 Critique of Practical Reason, A: audience 165; freedom 196; Kant, Immanuel 52, 102, 115, 160; reason 182 Critique of Pure Reason: aims 114; epistemological strategy 160; Kant, Immanuel 101, 109, 110, 111, 239n139; reason 115, 181, 182, 184; space and time 185; theory of knowledge 113 cultural heritage: Arab-Islamic society 1–2, 21, 158; authentic discourse 11; Enlightenment, The 2; revival 5; science 44; Westernized discourse 12 culture 39, 199 De Anima 61 De Caelo 61 debate 13–14, 23

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decline: Arab-Islamic civilization 25, 27, 28, 30, 32; Enlightenment, The 43; metaphysics 115; Ottoman Empire 4; philosophy 37 definition: commonwealth 192–3; conscience 137–8; enlightenment 3, 12–13, 100, 112, 135, 205; Enlightenment, The 246n273; free will 123; God 244n242; heritage 24; human will 76; philosophical insight 100; philosophy 70; political ideals 100–1; principles 119; public mobilization 101; reason 119; reflection 110; religion 142, 186–7; sensation 109–10; sociopolitical reforms 101; transcendental 237n109; understanding 116–17, 119 Deism 106, 107, 108 democracy 26, 49, 148, 151 demonstrative argument: Averroes 80–1, 161, 172, 204; classification 97; Commentary on Plato’s Republic 166; external arguments 96; alFarabi, Abu Nasr 167; Fasl al-maqal fima bayn-l-hikmat wa-l-shariʿah min-l-iitisal (Decisive Treaty on the Relation of Philosophy and Religion) 160; morality 110, 111; Qur’an 79, 162; reason 133–4 Descartes, René 15, 109, 156 despotism 148, 151 development 7, 10, 61, 106, 108 dialectic argument 79, 81–2, 96, 162 differences between Averroes and Kant 173–4, 180 al-Din, Khayr 5 discourses: Arab enlightenment 21; Arab-Islamic enlightenment 2; Arab-Islamic heritage 17; ArabIslamic scholarship 43; Averroes 58; dialectic argument 81–2; failures 5–6; al-Farabi, Abu Nasr 167; modernity 44; modes 79–82, 162, 163, 172; rhetorical argument 188 Divine Comedy 6 doctrines 153, 154, 171, 203

dogma 44, 58, 107, 156 dominance 1, 4, 39, 195, 199 duty: free will 150; freedom 165; happiness 142; human nature 123–4; law 193; morality 143, 151, 186; political moralist 145; reason 171; religion 187 economic conditions 44, 107 education: Arab-Islamic society 1; arguments 96; Averroes 66; heritage 44; ideal state 89; philosophers 169; Pietism 168; Protestant churches 104; religion 164, 180; rhetorical argument 95–6 emanation 32, 254n26 enlightenment: advocates 62, 154, 156, 162, 171–2, 181; Arab enlightenment 10, 34, 154; Arab-Islamic heritage 201; Arab thought 207; audience 162–9; Averroes 3, 17, 46, 59, 79, 94; definition 100, 112, 135, 205; al-Farabi, Abu Nasr 167; ideal state 86; philosophers 51, 171; politics 174, 189; religious reform 173 Enlightenment, The: advocates 160, 162; Arab enlightenment 10–13; Arkoun, Muhammad 41, 42; decline 43; defence 109; definition 246n273; dogma 44; Europe 199; influence 107; Kant, Immanuel 3, 99–100, 135, 137, 151, 172; popular Enlightenment 165; Prussia 52, 105–6, 166–7; reason 42; Trabishi, Jurj 38 epistemological systems: al-Farabi, Abu Nasr 167; al-Jabri, Muhammad 36; philosophy 29; pre-Islamic culture 30; theory of emanation 32; three systems 33; Trabishi, Jurj 40; unity 38–9 epistemology 101, 102, 135 esotericism 50, 52, 78, 79, 202 ethics: freedom 135; Kant, Immanuel 110; moral law 144, 195; New Testament 177; politics 190; reason 16, 43; science 161; war 147

Index Europe: Averroes 27, 158; Enlightenment, The 1, 10, 199; modernity 22, 42; secularism 39; Treaty of Westphalia 104 evaluation 3, 24, 114–15, 127, 153, 205 examination: Averroes 14, 74; Averroes and Kant, Immanuel 199–200; Kant, Immanuel 116, 142; lack of 115; metaphysics 113; morality 122; philosophical projects 199; pure reason 128; speculative reason 126; theory of discourse 94 exile 8, 38, 66, 83–4, 105 existence: free will 78; freedom 134; God 116, 133, 142, 183, 190; ideal state 88, 89, 191–2, 194; morality 141 experience: ideas 245n242; judgement 239n139; knowledge 109, 113, 114, 237n109, 239n138; moral law 181–2; morality 121, 123, 148; moralizing politician 145; practical philosophy 145; principle of humanity 150; reason 115–16; role 118; understanding 117, 119, 128 Exposition of the Methods of Proofs, The 52 faith: authenticity 177; concepts 152; al-Ghazali, Abu Hamid ibn Muhammad 2, 8; God 185; interpretation 139–40; Judaism 138; Kant, Immanuel 176; Locke, John 110; logic 135; rationality 62; reason 36, 97, 110, 197; reason and revelation 176–7; religion 22, 136–7, 152, 178–9; revelation 140–1, 178 Faith and Reason in Islam, the Exposition of Religious Arguments 72–3 al-Farabi, Abu Nasr: Aristotle 194; Averroes 66, 156, 167; external arguments 96; al-Ghazali, Abu Hamid ibn Muhammad 69; influence 92; Kant, Immanuel 165; natural philosophy 181; persecution 51; philosophy 31, 155; theory of emanation 32, 68; Tizini, Tayyib 45 Fasl al-maqal fima bayn-l-hikmat wa-lshariʿah min-l-iitisal (Decisive Treaty

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on the Relation of Philosophy and Religion): arguments 79; Averroes 61, 70–1, 74, 75, 159–60, 175; dialectic argument 82; discourses 82; al-Jabri, Muhammad 33; philosophy 176, 180; reason and revelation 78; revelation 178 Foundations of the Metaphysics of Morals 122, 149, 151, 160 Frederick the Great 105, 112, 166 Frederick William II 112, 165, 168 Frederick William III 112 free will: autonomy 149, 150; definition 123; duty 142; human nature 124; moral law 125; morality 121, 122, 186; nature 129–30; reason 115, 122–3; reason and revelation 75–8 freedom: Arab-Islamic society 26; Averroes and Kant, Immanuel 196–7; cities 50; concepts 205, 206; creation 185; democracy 49; duty 151, 165; Enlightenment, The 107, 231n1, 246n273; Foundations of the Metaphysics of Morals 160; German states 104–5; God 183; holy texts 141; Kant, Immanuel 101, 104, 113, 133–5, 152, 156; law 190, 193; metaphysics 116; moral law 122–4, 125–33, 171–2, 174, 197; moral religion 136; morality 124–5, 141; philosophy 110, 149; political ideals 10, 146; political reforms 147; principle of humanity 150; reason 119, 145, 151–2, 182; religion 105; Religion within the limits of Reason Alone 160; restrictions 112, 168; role 142; sociopolitical reforms 143; wisdom 132 function: ideal state 92, 194; judgement 239n139; philosophers 169; philosophy 169; politics 146; reason 119, 120, 128; rhetorical argument 95; understanding 117 German states 104–5, 106, 107, 110, 115, 159 al-Ghazali, Abu Hamid ibn Muhammad: al-Ansari, Muhammad 27; Averroes

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al-Ghazali cont.: 2, 66, 159–60, 176–7; books burned 64; epistemological systems 31; Ibn Tumart 64; natural philosophy 181; opinions 73; philosophy 25, 70; Tahafut al-falasifah (The Incoherence of the Philosophers) 8, 39, 62, 68–70; Tizini, Tayyib 45; writers 77 globalization 39, 43 God: Al-Kashf ʿan manahij al-adilla (Exposition of the Methods of Proof) 163; Averroes 77, 245n246; Averroes and Kant, Immanuel 183–7; existence 142; free will 78; freedom 196; Hobbes, Thomas 190; human nature 138–9; Ibn Tufayl 157–8; Kant, Immanuel 134, 141, 156, 244n241, 244n242; knowledge 176; Locke, John 110; metaphysics 116; moral law 125–33; morality 132; proof 132; reason 119, 182; religion 136, 137, 180 government: aristocratic government 87; Averroes 83; Bible 247n301; Kant, Immanuel 148; philosophers 87, 88, 170; reason 177; representation 148–9 Greek philosophy: Arab commentary 25; Arab-Islamic society 26; Arab philosophy 36; Averroes 23–4; Islamic philosophy 29; Judaism 138; al-Kindi, Abu Yusuf Yaʿqub 157; al-Ma’mun, Abu Jaʿfar Abdullah 30; morality 141; reason 177; reason and revelation 194; rehabilitated 16; superiority 52–3; translations into Arabic 226–7n27; Western civilization 43 Grotius, Hugo 105 Hanafi, Hasan: Arab-Islamic heritage 26, 184; Arkoun, Muhammad 40; Averroes 201; heritage 25; Marxism 25; modernized authentic discourse 24 happiness 141–2, 155, 164, 188, 194, 195 Hayy Ibn Yaqzan 67, 157–8 Hegel, Georg 48, 49, 102 heresy 63, 73, 157, 201

heritage: Arab-Islamic society 27–9; Averroes 27, 33; crisis 26–7; definition 24; ideology 35; al-Jabri, Muhammad 28–9; modernity 201; pre-Islamic culture 30; rejection 44; renewal 25; Self 25; Westernized discourse 45–6 Hermes 30, 37 highest good 187–8 historical analysis 2–3, 206–7 historical context 63–70, 97, 104–6, 158–9 historical methodology: analysis 3; approaches 53; Averroes 46, 203, 204; Averroes and Kant, Immanuel 202; al-Jabri, Muhammad 28–9; political thought 46–58 historicism 48, 50 history: Andalusia 63; Averroes 7–8, 192; Christianity 179; ideal state 90; Islam 85; Kant, Immanuel 15; modern philosophy 49; political philosophy 47; reason 40 history of political discourse 56–7 history of political language 57 history of political thought 53–8 Hobbes, Thomas 104, 105, 190, 193 holy texts 140, 141, 170, 175 hostility 64, 86 human nature 110, 111, 123–4, 138–9 human perfection: Averroes 170, 188; Greeks 92; ideal state 189; impossibility 88, 163–4; knowledge 95; philosophers 87; pure reason 132 human soul 85, 92, 106, 111, 134, 142 human will 76, 115 Hume, David: criticisms 119; experience 48–9; Kant, Immanuel 15, 109, 156; principles 116; scientific method 114 Hutcheson, Francis 110 Hutchings, K. 103 Iberia 38, 66, 91, 158, 168 Ibn ʿArabi 155 Ibn Hazm, Abu Muhammad 32 Ibn Masarah, Abu Abd Allah Muhammad 32

Index Ibn Sina see Avicenna Ibn Tufayl 64–5, 66, 155; Hayy Ibn Yaqzan 67, 157–8 Ibn Tumart 64, 66, 78–9, 194 ideal ruler 84–91 ideal state: Averroes 84–91, 161, 195–6; Averroes and Kant, Immanuel 189–96; impossibility 192; Kant, Immanuel 196; philosophy 170; possibility 191; war 91 idealism 32, 45 ideals 182, 184, 192 ideology: absolutism 104; Arab-Islamic heritage 25; Arab thought 17; Averroes 46, 158; contradictions 154; debate 14; enlightenment 59; Enlightenment, The 105; heritage 35; ideal state 91, 92; al-Jabri, Muhammad 34; war 191 Ikhwan al-Safa (Brethren of Purity) 37 ʿImarah, Muhammad 26–7, 201 immortality: human soul 142; Kant, Immanuel 134, 156; metaphysics 116; moral law 125–33; reason 119, 182 influence: Aristotle 67, 79; Averroes 8–9, 42, 66; Avicenna 31; Church 137; alFarabi, Abu Nasr 92; al-Ghazali, Abu Hamid ibn Muhammad 70; Hobbes, Thomas 104; Kant, Immanuel 15, 16–17, 29; Locke, John 110; Marxism 25; Renan, Ernest 22; revelation 91; Rousseau, Jean-Jacques 111; Self 24; Smith, Adam 106; Wolff, Christian 105, 106 intellectual: activity 169–70; balance 168; context 106–12, 168; history 40; progress 107; pursuits 200; revolution 11–12 intellectual production: Arab-Islamic society 29, 199; censorship 112, 168; conditions 163; creativity 207; Kant, Immanuel 101, 109; political conditions 44; purpose 58 interpretation: allegorical 175, 176; approaches 55–6; Aristotle 38; Averroes 22, 34, 154; Bible 247n300;

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Enlightenment, The 107; faith 139– 40; free will 75; holy texts 141; Kant, Immanuel 103; legal matters 71–2; past 44; philosophers 88; philosophy 50, 71; political texts 46; Qur’an 74, 78, 96, 98, 162–3; reason and revelation 176; religion 142, 170; religious texts 34, 66, 80, 157, 169; revelation 174, 175, 176, 180, 197, 203–4; role 54; texts 56; theory of forced interpretation 175 Iqbal, Muhammad 5 ʿirfan (mysticism) 30, 31, 32 Islam: Almohad dynasty 168; Averroes 161, 176; Hanafi, Hasan 24; heresy 63; historic study 40; ideal state 85, 192; jihad (holy war) 92, 195; legitimacy 66, 157; modernity 10; philosophy 27, 36, 39, 62, 67, 173; rationality 73; values 201 Islamic: fundamentalism 41–2; history 40, 191; law 86, 158, 191, 227n42; nation 94; reason 42; reforms 61; sources 158; state 93, 199; theology 157; traditions 23, 156; values 5, 21, 23 Islamic philosophy: epistemological systems 33; Greek philosophy 29; history 32; morality and politics 193, 194; neoplatonism 67; persecution 51; reason 42; reason and revelation 24, 157; relationship 70; rhetorical argument 95 Ismaʿili Shiʿi Islam 30, 31; Ikhwan al-Safa (Brethren of Purity) 37 al-Jabri, Muhammad: Arab-Islamic civilization 37; Averroes 28–9, 32–4, 72, 159, 202–3, 204; Critique of Arab Reason 204; epistemological systems 29–30, 39; Fasl al-maqal fima baynl-hikmat wa-l-shariʿah min-l-iitisal (Decisive Treaty on the Relation of Philosophy and Religion) 33; Kant, Immanuel 16; modernized authentic discourse 27–9; Naqd al-ʿaql al-ʿarabi (A Critique of Arab Reason) 29;

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al-Jabri cont.: philosophical traditions 31; politics 161; religion and philosophy 32–3; Trabishi, Jurj 36 jihad (holy war) 91, 92, 94, 194 judgement 51–2, 54, 116, 117, 119–20, 239n139 jurisprudence 1, 7, 30, 33, 61 jurists 63–4, 66 justice 10, 110, 186, 189, 191 Kant, Immanuel: Conflict of the Faculties 102, 112, 177; Critique of Judgement 101, 110; Critique of Practical Reason, A 52, 102, 115, 160, 165, 182, 196; Critique of Pure Reason 101, 109, 110, 111, 113, 114–15, 160, 181, 182, 184, 185, 239n139; Foundations of the Metaphysics of Morals 122, 149, 151, 160; Metaphysics of Morals 102; Observations on the Feeling of the Beautiful and the Sublime 111; Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone 102, 112, 160, 165, 168–9, 176, 177, 178, 249n337; Toward Perpetual Peace, a Philosophical Sketch 102, 151, 160, 165, 235n64, 249n345; ‘What does it mean to orient oneself in thinking?’ 112; ‘What is Enlightenment?’ 165, 196 Khan, Sayyid Ahmad 5 al-Kindi, Abu Yusuf Yaʿqub 31, 42, 70, 157, 194 knowledge: Averroes 154, 171, 203; classification 237n109; concepts 133, 181, 184; discourses 81; experience 115–16, 119; God 176, 183; human perfection 95; Kant, Immanuel 151; al-Kindi, Abu Yusuf Yaʿqub 31; logic 239n138; metaphysics 108, 114, 156, 159; philosophers 87, 96; Plato 45; pure practical reason 126; pure reason 128; reason 71, 113, 115–16, 119, 120, 180; theory 37, 123; understanding 116, 117 language: Arab-Islamic heritage 41; Aristotle 38, 67, 161; Averroes 62;

consciousness 59; cultural resources 57–8; demonstrative argument 79; Hanafi, Hasan 26; interpretation 176; Old Testament 177; reason 98; religion 30; renewal 25; texts 57 law: Averroes 61, 176; freedom 143, 190, 193; imposed 192–3; Kant, Immanuel 123–4; law of holiness 123; philosophy 70, 180–1, 183; publicity of public law 145–6 Laws 51 legitimacy: Almohad dynasty 64, 168; Muslim rulers 63, 157; philosophy 176; political rulers 105; reason 45, 74, 178; reason and revelation 82; revelation 74, 178 Leibniz, Gottfried 106, 108, 109, 135, 156, 159 liberalism 22–3, 103–4 Locke, John: criticisms 119; Deism 106; influence 110; Kant, Immanuel 15, 109, 116, 156, 190; sensation 109–10; state and Church 111 logic: Aristotle 156; Commentary on Aristotle’s Rhetoric 95; faith 135; goals 96; interpretation 170; Kant, Immanuel 113, 238n138; reason 119, 174, 180; superiority 37 logical positivism 47–8 Lutheran Church 106, 107 Machiavelli, Niccolò 49, 190 Maimonides, Moses 42 al-Ma’mun, Abu Jaʿfar Abdullah 30–1 Marxism 12, 16, 24, 26, 44, 201 mathematics 114, 161 medieval Islamic philosophy 16, 51 Metaphysics 61 metaphysics: Averroes 70; dilemma 113– 14; epistemology 102–3; experience 116; freedom 135; al-Ghazali, Abu Hamid ibn Muhammad 68; God 185; Kant, Immanuel 109, 113, 115, 159; moral law 144; morality 120–2; Plato 156; politics 181; Prussia

Index metaphysics cont.: 107; reason 119–20; religion 69; science 161; transcendental philosophy 237n109; validity 156 Metaphysics of Morals 102 methodological approaches 46–58, 73 methodologies 40, 114 Middle Ages 17, 36, 42, 49, 190, 206 Middle Commentaries on De Anima 164 Middle Commentaries on Plato’s Republic 164 modernity: Arab enlightenment 200; Arab-Islamic heritage 23, 34; ArabIslamic society 58, 201; Arab-Islamic thought 41; Arab thought 4; cultural heritage 207; development 61; discourses 17, 44; Europe 22, 42; globalization 43; heritage 25; Islam 10; political philosophy 49; reason and revelation 135; rejection 36; secularism 39 modernization 5, 10, 199 modernized authentic discourse 21, 23–34 modes of discourses 79–82, 163, 167, 172 Montesquieu, Charles-Louis de Secondat 5 moral: obligations 130; philosophy 103; religion 135–42 moral law: dominance 195; experience 181–2; free will 125; freedom 122–5, 134, 135, 197; God 183, 185, 190; Kant, Immanuel 120–2, 171–2, 175; postulates 125–33; reason 143–4, 145, 174, 187 morality: commonwealth 190; comparisons 141; concepts 131; demonstrative argument 101–2, 110; duty 151; freedom 124–5; God 184, 185, 186; highest good 188; ideal state 192; ideals 182; Kant, Immanuel 101, 102–3, 108, 127; law 123–4; Locke, John 110; metaphysics 120–2; moral law 120–2; Pietism 106–7; politics 143–6, 190; rationality 109; reason 137; Rousseau, Jean-Jacques 111; Wolff, Christian 105 Muhammad, Prophet 85, 86, 93 Musa, Salamah 22–3, 201 mutakallimun 64, 73, 80, 82, 160, 163 Muʿtazila 27, 45, 66, 78, 194

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mutual dependency reason and revelation 72–9, 97–8, 175, 178, 203 mysticism 37, 107, 155, 158 see also ʿirfan (mysticism) Naqd al-ʿaql al-ʿarabi (A Critique of Arab Reason) 29 nature 129–30, 180, 181 neoplatonism 62, 67–8, 69, 156, 181 Newton, Isaac 107–8, 109 Nicomachean Ethics 61, 161 Observations on the Feeling of the Beautiful and the Sublime 111 origin of moral law 112–13, 120–2 original thought 23–4 Ottoman Empire 4, 5, 7, 22 pedagogy: Averroes 154, 156, 159, 161, 162; al-Farabi, Abu Nasr 167; philosophical projects 164, 203; politics 181; reason and revelation 154–5 perpetual peace 145, 146–51, 152, 160, 192, 205 persecution 22, 50–1 philosophers: authority 200; Averroes 86–8; demonstrative argument 79, 162; denounced 8; al-Ghazali, Abu Hamid ibn Muhammad 68–9; government 88; happiness 194; heresy 66; ideal state 85; interpretation 78; Kant, Immanuel 171; persecution 50–1; position in society 65; Qur’an 74, 162–3; religious texts 98; revelation 74, 178; rhetorical argument 95; role 169–71; sociopolitical reforms 101; status 96 philosophical insight: definition 100; enlightenment 135; freedom 134, 151; Kant, Immanuel 112, 125, 143; politics 101; sociopolitical reforms 146, 172 philosophical projects: audience 162; Averroes 162, 166, 170, 171, 200, 203; Averroes and Kant, Immanuel 155; enlightenment 171–2; examination 199; intentions 169; Kant, Immanuel

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philosophical projects cont.: 156, 159, 167; reason and revelation 173, 178 philosophy: activity of philosophy 72; Arab-Islamic heritage 44; ArabIslamic society 1, 2, 26–7, 44, 201; Arab thought 24; Arkoun, Muhammad 40; attacks 97; Averroes 22, 33, 39, 61, 62, 84; Avicenna 31, 37; competence 62; development 7; dilemma 103; education 165; esotericism 50; experience 145; Fasl al-maqal fima bayn-l-hikmat wa-lshariʿah min-l-iitisal (Decisive Treaty on the Relation of Philosophy and Religion) 176; God 183, 186; Greece 16; historicism 48; hostility 64; importance 25; intellectual pursuits 200; interpretation 55–6; Islam 27, 62, 67, 173; Islamic philosophy 42; judgement 239n139; justification 70; Kant, Immanuel 102, 110, 111, 112, 151; legality 82; Middle Ages 36; Morocco 38; political interference 157; politics 155–62, 170; pre-Islamic heritage 37; protection 202; public mobilization 101; reason 143, 174, 175, 180, 181; religion 29, 32, 33, 72–3, 96; rise 45; Rousseau, Jean-Jacques 111; science 40; social context 63; study 163, 176, 180–1; superiority 37; survival 43; theory of interpretation 70–2; traditions 49; transcendental philosophy 237n109; validity 168 Physics 61, 84 physics 45, 114, 161, 184–5 Pietism: Kant, Immanuel 108, 109; Königsberg 108; Lutheran Church 106; metaphysics 108, 136, 159; Prussia 112, 168–9 Plato: divine origin of the soul 37; al-Farabi, Abu Nasr 167; ideal state 88–9, 90, 191; Kant, Immanuel 110, 147, 171; Laws 51; metaphysics 156; philosopher king 86–7; Republic 49, 85, 159, 161; state 194; theory of knowledge 45; war 91–2

Pocock, J.: approaches 59; historical methodology 3, 28, 53, 202; history of political discourse 56–7; methodological approaches 46 political: activity 13, 169–70; aims 33, 34, 120, 125, 141, 154; authority 10; character 101; conditions 44; function 95; governance 26; ideals 10, 22, 100–1, 146, 151; interference 63, 64, 66, 157; modernity 42–3; moralist 144–5; reforms 147, 166; regimes 35, 50, 106, 167, 204; resistance 26; rulers 104; science 47, 161; significance 94–7; texts 46 political philosophy: aims 133; character 51–2; explained 46–7; God 186; historical conditions 50; historicism 48; Kant, Immanuel 112; Strauss, Leo 47; understanding 49 political thought: Avempace 155; Averroes 83–93, 94–7, 160–1; Kant, Immanuel 102–4, 122, 135, 142–51, 156; methodological approaches 46–58; moral law 120; social contract 191; Strauss, Leo 221n259; Toward Perpetual Peace, a Philosophical Sketch 149 Politics: Aristotle 159, 161 politics: Al-Kashf ʿan manahij al-adilla (Exposition of the Methods of Proof) 163; Andalusia 157; Averroes 84, 162, 170–1, 174; enlightenment 188, 189; ethics 190; freedom 196–7; function 146; ideal state 189, 192; Kant, Immanuel 165, 166, 181–2; moral law 143–4; morality 143–6, 190; philosophers 169, 171; philosophical insight 101; philosophy 155–62, 168, 170; reason 174, 181; reason and revelation 100, 173; reforms 154; religion 34; revelation 174, 177, 178, 180; science 161; Toward Perpetual Peace, a Philosophical Sketch 160; Wolff, Christian 106 Posterior Analytics 61 postmodernism 12, 23, 40, 43, 44 power 144–5, 148

Index pre-Islamic culture 30, 37 principles: creation 183; definition 119; experience 118; Islam 192; knowledge 116; morality 121–2, 141–2; principle of humanity 149, 150; publicity of public law 145; pure reason 131; reason 119, 120, 133, 181; religion 73; republican constitution 148 progress 28, 29, 33, 48, 49, 107 Protestant churches 104, 105 Prussia: Enlightenment, The 52, 105, 166– 7; Frederick William II 112; Hobbes, Thomas 105; intellectual balance 168; metaphysics 107; Pietism 108, 136, 159 psychology 126, 167 public: audience 162; Averroes 170, 204; communication 94; discourses 81; enlightenment 135; Kant, Immanuel 169, 205; mobilization 101, 112; philosophers 88; reason and revelation 79; service 7; sociopolitical reforms 196; understanding 154, 164, 171 publicity of public law 145–6, 165 Pufendorf, Samuel von 105 pure reason 125–33 purpose: commentaries 96; Commentary on Plato’s Republic 83; Faith and Reason in Islam, the Exposition of Religious Arguments 73; ideal state 90, 189, 193, 194, 195; intellectual production 58; jihad (holy war) 92; religion 43; state 85, 111, 190; war 91–2, 194 Qur’an: arguments 79, 96, 162, 184; audience 163; Averroes 71; faith 8; interpretation 71, 78, 157; reason 74–5, 97–8; reason and revelation 175; revelation 74–5 rationality: Abbasid regime 31; ArabIslamic heritage 42; arguments 73; Averroes 16, 74, 203, 204; elevation 135; faith 62; al-Jabri, Muhammad 34; Kant, Immanuel 108–9, 246n274;

277

morality 122, 124; Muʿtazila 27; philosophers 88; philosophy 40; Pietism 107; Prussia 106; revealed truth 135; revelation 174; rhetorical argument 97; Rousseau, Jean-Jacques 111 al-Razi, Muhammad ibn Zakariya (Rhazes) 194 reason: Arab enlightenment 62; Arkoun, Muhammad 40; Averroes 2, 22, 33, 42, 70–82, 206; Averroes and Kant, Immanuel 154; Church 139; commonwealth 193; Critique of Practical Reason, A 115; definition 119; demonstrative argument 133–4; dogma 156; employment 173–4; Enlightenment, The 1, 107; faculties 119; faith 152; al-Farabi, Abu Nasr 31; Frederick the Great 105; free will 122–3, 130–1; freedom 134; function 128; government 177; ideal state 189; judgement 119– 20; Kant, Immanuel 15, 100, 103, 109, 159, 181; knowledge 71, 113, 114–15, 116; legitimacy 45; Locke, John 110; logic 180; meanings 174; metaphysics 119–20; moral duty 171; morality 137, 141; mutual dependency 72–9; mysticism 158; nature 181; New Testament 177; origin of moral law 120–2; perpetual peace 145; philosophical projects 156; philosophy 143, 180; principles 133; reconciliation 97–8; religion 136, 179, 180; revelation 2, 8, 13–14; science 41; speculative reason 126; subjugation 36; superiority 182; supremacy 151–2; theory of interpretation 142; transcendental dialectic 125–33; use 175–82; vocabulary 30; Wolff, Christian 105 reconciliation: al-Ansari, Muhammad 27; Arabic culture and new world 39–40; Islam and science 202; philosophy and Islam 67; Plato and Aristotle 156; reason and revelation 97–8, 175, 176 reforms: Arab-Islamic society 5; Averroes 166, 169; civil law 144; religion 136, 154, 159, 173; Tanzimat 5

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relationship: Averroes and Kant, Immanuel 154; enlightenment 94; God and man 196–7; moral law and politics 159; morality and politics 143–6, 193, 249n337; philosophy and Islam 70; rationality and revealed truth 135; reason and mysticism 158; reason and revelation 9–10, 13–14, 22, 62, 100, 110; religion and morality 186; religion and philosophy 2, 29; religious texts 35; religious texts and people 162; scriptures and people 78; society and religion 33; state and Church 110–11; theoretical and practical sciences 95; virtue and art 92 religion: Al-Kashf ʿan manahij al-adilla (Exposition of the Methods of Proof) 163; Arab-Islamic philosophy 45; Averroes 22, 72–3, 154, 164, 201; concepts 142; control 179; culture 39; definition 142, 186–7; duty 187; ethics 43; faith 22, 178–9; Frederick the Great 105; free will and reason 122–3; freedom 105; al-Ghazali, Abu Hamid ibn Muhammad 68, 69; God 137, 185; interpretation 88, 170; Kant, Immanuel 15, 101, 102–3, 127, 138, 179–80; language 30; legality 82; Locke, John 110; morality 186; origin of moral law 113; philosophers 169; philosophy 2, 27, 29, 32, 96, 171; Pietism 107; politics 34; public 171; purpose 43; rationality 109; reason 97, 152, 177, 180; reason and revelation 176; reforms 136, 154, 173; Religion within the limits of Reason Alone 160; restrictions 112; revealed texts 175; role 10, 83, 164; society 33; state 9, 189; theoretical investigation 74; toleration 22, 111, 247n304; traditions 108; Umayyad dynasty 63; unity 141 Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone: audience 165; censorship 168– 9; freedom and religion 160; Kant,

Immanuel 102, 112, 176, 249n337; Old Testament 177; revelation 178 religious: arguments 178; fundamentalism 1; heritage 21; issues 72 religious texts: Arkoun, Muhammad 40; interpretation 34, 66, 78, 157, 169; relationship with people 162 Renaissance 24, 61 Renan, Ernest 22 Republic 49, 85, 159, 161 republican constitution: individuals 149; Kant, Immanuel 205; perpetual peace 146–51, 160, 192; state 151–2, 190 republics 101, 144 revealed texts 175, 177, 178, 180 revelation: Arab enlightenment 62; authority 98, 173–4, 175–82, 197; Averroes 22, 33, 70–82, 90, 195–6; Averroes and Kant, Immanuel 154, 177; Christianity 108; historic study 40; ideal state 189; influence 85, 91; interpretation 142, 170, 176; Kant, Immanuel 15, 100, 140, 159, 177, 196; Laws 51; meanings 82; mutual dependency 72–9; philosophical projects 156; Pietism 106; reason 2, 8, 13–14, 36; reconciliation 97–8; religion 180; truth 42, 180, 203–4; Wolff, Christian 253n9 Rhetoric 81, 82 rhetorical argument: aims 97; Al-Kashf ʿan manahij al-adilla (Exposition of the Methods of Proof) 160, 163; Averroes 80–1, 94, 187–8; philosophers 88, 170; Qur’an 79, 162; rationality 97; religion 164 Rida, Rashid 5 rights 1, 10, 106 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques: Kant, Immanuel 15, 103, 109, 111, 190; modernity 49; al-Tahtawi, Rifa‘ah 5 rulers 63, 91, 194 al-Sahrawardi, Shihab al-Din Yahya 31 Saner, H. 103

Index science: Arab-Islamic society 199; science cont.: Arkoun, Muhammad 41; Averroes 2, 7, 12, 22, 154, 162; cultural heritage 44; existence 164; al-Ghazali, Abu Hamid ibn Muhammad 68; highest good 188; historicism 48; human perfection 170; ʿImarah, Muhammad 201; Islamic values 5; al-Jabri, Muhammad 34; Kant, Immanuel 156; metaphysics 113–14; Newton, Isaac 107–8; philosophical projects 203; philosophy 40, 70; political philosophy 47; politics 159, 161; protection 202; psychology 126; rationality 109; theoretical investigation 95 sectarianism 1, 37 secularism: absolutism 105; Averroes 22, 58, 200; heritage 39; humanism 42; Islamic state 199; reason 9; reason and revelation 74–5; toleration 22; values 12 Shariʿah law 75, 98, 158, 175, 176, 225n1 Shiʿi Islam 30, 36, 37 Skinner, Q.: approaches 59; contextual methodology 55; historical methodology 3, 28, 53, 202; illocutionary force 55–6; methodological approaches 46; myths 54–5 Smith, Adam 106 sociopolitical reforms: Averroes 200; definition 101; enlightenment 135; freedom 143, 151; Kant, Immanuel 112, 152, 154; philosophers 169; philosophical insight 146, 172; public 196 Socrates 110 sovereignty 43, 104, 148 Spinoza, Baruch 185 state: Averroes 84–5; Averroes and Kant, Immanuel 189–96; Church 110–11, 137; civil law 144; classification 85; concepts 147; constitution 147–8; Enlightenment, The 1, 165; national identity 104; philosophers 88, 171; religion 9; republican constitution 151–2; republics 101; revolution 146;

279

Wolff, Christian 106 Strauss, Leo: approaches 53–4; classical political philosophy 50; esotericism 50; Greek philosophy 52–3; historicism 48–9; history of political thought 57; logical positivism 47–8; methodological approaches 46–53; political philosophy 51–2, 59; political thought 221n259; What is Political Philosophy? 46 Sufism 30, 31 superiority: Christianity 141; logic 37; morality 144; pure practical reason 125, 132; reason 142, 182 syllogistic reasoning: Aristotle 70, 71; Averroes 78, 180; Kant, Immanuel 116; rhetorical argument 95; transcendental dialectic 125 Tahafut al-falasifah (The Incoherence of the Philosophers) 8, 39, 62, 68 Tahafut al-tahafut (The Incoherence of the Incoherence) 8, 9, 62, 70, 160 al-Tahtawi, Rifa‘ah 4–5 Takhlis al-ibriz fi talkhis Bariz (The Extraction of Gold from a Brief Description of Paris) 4–5 Tarzi, Mahmud 5 textual analysis 54–5 textual methodology 53 theology 30, 36, 64, 106, 184 theoretical investigation 74 theories: Averroes 154; ideal state 189; Kant, Immanuel 116; social contract 105; theory of causation 68; theory of constant creation 38; theory of discourse 70, 79, 94–7, 162, 163, 172; theory of emanation 32, 38, 45, 68, 155, 254n26; theory of forced interpretation 175; theory of interpretation 33, 70–2, 135–42, 154; theory of knowledge 45, 112, 113–19, 123, 126 Tizini, Tayyib 44, 45, 201 toleration 22, 23, 110–11, 201, 212n48, 247n304 Topics 82

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Toward Perpetual Peace, a Philosophical Sketch: audience 165; freedom and politics 160; Kant, Immanuel 102, 235n64, 249n345; political thought 149; republican constitution 151 Trabishi, Jurj: Averroes 201; dual openness 35–6; al-Jabri, Muhammad 35, 36; past 44; philosophy 40; preIslamic heritage 37; secularism 39; theory of emanation 38 traditions 49, 108, 179, 199 transcendental: definition 237n109; dialectic 125–33; idealism 128; ideas 133; philosophy 239n139 truth: Church 152; discourses 81; philosophers 87; philosophy 71; political philosophy 48; postmodernism 44; Qur’an 96; rationality 135; reason 178; revelation 42, 98, 180, 197; understanding 114; universal 53 Umayyad dynasty 31–2, 63 understanding: audience 162; Averroes 4, 62, 83, 84, 153–4; contextual methodology 55; definition 116–17, 119; demonstrative argument 167; doctrines 203; experience 119, 128; function 119; Islam 168; judgement 51–2; Kant, Immanuel 102; knowledge 116, 151; political philosophy 49; public 154, 164, 171; reason 120; religious texts 157; Strauss, Leo 47–8; truth 114 values: Arab-Islamic society 158, 199; Enlightenment, The 11; Islam 201; Kant, Immanuel 16; knowledge 114; modernity 39; secularism 12 Velkley, R. 103

virtue 131, 186 virtues 49, 84, 89, 92, 95 Voltaire 5, 107 war: Averroes 91–4; ethics 147; ideal state 86, 91, 194; ideology 191; purpose 194; restrictions 148 wealth 86, 148 Western: hegemony 25; modernity 5; philosophy 25–6; traditions 102; values 9, 201; world 1, 8–9, 199 Western power: Arab-Islamic civilization 23; Averroes 9, 200; dominance 1, 4, 39, 199; intellectual authority 23 Westernized discourse: advocates 22–3; Arab enlightenment 21, 200; Arab failures 5–6; Arab-Islamic heritage 11, 34–46; Arkoun, Muhammad 40; Averroes 9–10, 12, 45–6; modernity 58; modernization 43; postmodernism 23 ‘What does it mean to orient oneself in thinking?’ 112 ‘What is Enlightenment?’ 196; Kant, Immanuel 165 What is Political Philosophy? 46 Wolff, Christian: absolutism 105; Deism 106; Enlightenment, The 166; Kant, Immanuel 156; knowledge 108; metaphysics 135, 159; morality 122; Pietism 108; reason 115; revelation 253n9; scientific method 114 Yack, B. 103–4 Yahya, Abu 83, 89, 161, 166, 191, 204 Yaʿqub, Abu Yusuf 65 Yusuf, Abu Yaʿqub: Averroes 7, 52, 65, 166, 204; philosophy 64; policies 168; Yahya, Abu 83