The foregoing analysis of Afg̲h̲āni’s social, ethical and religious views exhibits an unorthodox approach in his study of certain Islamic beliefs, evaluation of the intellectual and political development of Muslims and assessment of social and ethical values. This leads to the question, what is exactly the character of his unorthodoxy?

At the outset, it is to be noted that his unorthodoxy does not appear at a particular stage in his life; it is there from the earliest recorded period till his last days in Constantinople. Secondly, throughout his adventurous political career he did not make any attempt to conceal his radical views or to appease any particular school of Muslim thought, group or person, for the sake of achieving his objectives. To do so was simply against his aggressively confident temperament, although he was fully aware from the beginning that his unorthodoxy would be one of the chief obstacles against his ultimate objective of political and social modernization of Muslims.

His unorthodoxy had shaped itself during the earliest period of his academic training when he developed deep interest in philosophy and was disliked by others because of it.1 According to his own statement he found the traditional Islamic sciences of little help in the understanding of material and spiritual problems. The ‘ulamā of various schools, similarly, lacked that comprehensive vision which could analyze the complex contemporary situation.2 This uneasy feeling gradually led him to strike a path of his own. Consequently, the unconventional views he developed in the days of his early youth marked him out among others as an outsider. In one of his self-statements made in Kabul when he was thirty years of age, he expresses his anguish of belonging to none. Using verse to give expression to this anguish – a form most effectively utilized by Muslim mystics and liberals for a similar purpose, he says:3

“The English people believe me a Russian
The Muslims think me a Zoroastrian
The Sunnis think me a Shi‘ī
And the Shi‘is think me an enemy of ‘Ali (Nāṣibi)
Some of the friends of the four companions have believed me a Vahhābi
Some of the Virtuous Imamites have imagined me a Bābi
The theists have imagined me a materialist
And the pious a sinner bereft of piety
The learned have considered me an unknowing ignoramus
And the believers have thought me an unbelieving sinner
Neither does the believer call me to him
Nor the Muslim recognize me as his own
Banished from the mosque and rejected by the temple
I am perplexed as to whom I should depend on and whom I shall fight
The rejection of one requires affirmation of the other
The affirmation of one makes the friends firm against its opposite
There is no way of escape for me to flee the grasp of one group
There is no fixed abode for me to fight the other party
Seated in Bālā ḥiṣār in Kabul, my hands tied and my legs broken, I wait to see what the curtain of the unknown will deign to reveal to me and what fate the turning of this malevolent firmament has in store for me.”

When raised, the curtain revealed that the future had to offer no refuge for his unorthodoxy except suffering in the midst of un-accommodating orthodoxy.

The next indication of his unorthodoxy is available in his views expressed on the concept of Prophecy in a lecture delivered on ṣanā‘ah in Istanbul in 1870. The original text of his lecture is not available but a more or less full summary of the points raised by Afg̲h̲āni is found in various sources. According to Muḥammad ‘Abduh, the topic of the lecture was ṣanā‘ah (crafts). He compared the body-public to a living organism of which the limbs were the different crafts/professions; for instance, the king could be compared to the brain, iron-smiths to the arms, farmers to the liver, sailors to the feet, and so on. However, those crafts could only partially serve the body of human happiness (sa‘ādah). He held that just as a body could not live without soul, the body of human happiness (that is, society) also requires a soul, which was either the faculty of prophecy or that of philosophy. These two were distinguished from one another by the fact that whereas the faculty of philosophy could be acquired by thought and study, prophet-hood was a divine gift not attainable by endeavor, but vouchsafed by God to such of his servants as he pleases. Another distinguishing feature was that the prophet was immaculate while the philosopher might go astray and commit grave fault. Again, the source of prophetic inspiration was Divine knowledge and no falsity found place in it. To act upon it was a religious duty. On the other hand, no responsibility or injunction could exist on the basis of the opinions of the philosophers. Among such opinions only those should be followed which came from the distinguished philosophers provided they did not contradict the Divine Law.

According to another contemporary source,5 Afg̲h̲āni suggested that the highest crafts were those of the prophet, philosopher, caliph, doctor and juris-consult. Prophets were required only for a particular epoch since a single prophet’s religion or law could meet the needs of many epochs and peoples. However, for each epoch, is needed a learned man for its own needs and requirements. The noblest crafts are those of the prophet and of the philosopher with the following distinguishing points: (i) the prophet obtains the truth of things through inspiration and revelation while the philosopher obtains it through arguments and proofs, (ii) the prophet cannot commit errors while the philosopher can and, (iii) the teachings of the philosopher are universal and not bound to any particular age into consideration. Hence, the teachings of prophets change from one age to another and the concepts of philosophers do not change.

It is also reported that Afg̲h̲āni urged the people, during his lecture, to struggle as it was the demand of the time. Nothing could be achieved unless man strived for it. Even prophets did not succeed in their mission without effort.6

Afg̲h̲~ni’s views raised a bitter controversy. The ‘ulamā of Istanbul accused him of holding the heretical view that prophecy was also an art (ṣanā’ah) and could be achieved by human effort and of equating the status of the prophet with that of the philosopher.7 Both these objections appear to be baseless in view of the available summary of Afg̲h̲āni’s views. The question as to why Afg̲h̲āni was condemned by the ‘ulamā and consequently, ordered by the government to leave the country has been discussed by Keddie.8 It appears that the ‘ulamā did not favor the establishment of the new university, Dārul Fun~un, devoted to teaching of modern sciences, which was considered by them as a potential threat to the orthodoxy. Afg̲h̲āni, who was one of the speakers in a series of lectures arranged by the Dārul Fun~un, was selected as a target of their criticism to prove their point that the University would become the centre of activity of heretics like Afg̲h̲āni.9 However, here we are more interested in the nature of his views on prophecy. As indicated earlier, Afg̲h̲āni, being a philosopher by temperament, has always been more attracted by the Muslim philosophical heritage than the theological tradition, as such. On this subject, as well, he appears to be following the Muslim philosophers or philosopher-theologians. In fact, his whole exposition seems to be based on al-Fārābi’s concept of prophecy discussed in his al-Madīnah al-Fāz̤ilah.10 Discussing the structures of a city (madīnah), Fārābi refers to ṣanā‘ah (arts/professions) and compares the city to human organism in which various parts (arts/professions) work in union to protect and preserve the whole. Each individual performs his duties and vocation and various groups of individuals work under someone and over the others. The chief (ra‘īs) acts in a city like the heart in human body. Among the individuals, the highest stage is acquired either by philosophers or the prophets. Among the attributes of these highest individuals, the most important is their ability to achieve communion with the spiritual world. This communion could be attained by the ‘power of contemplation’ (quvvah-i mutak̲h̲ayyalah) and by inspiration (vaḥi). The philosophers achieve communion on reaching the level of ‘Acquired Intellect’ through study and quest. A prophet achieves communion when his imagination becomes so powerful and perfect as to make him capable of receiving Divine inspiration or Revelation. Fārābi holds that a prophet or a philosopher is a person who combines in himself all the perfections of all ṣanā‘ah (arts). This is the state where a man is ready to receive Divine grace. When the Divine grace is transferred to ‘Passive Intellect’ (‘aql-i munfa‘il) the man becomes a philosopher whereas its transfer to power of imagination makes him a prophet.

The above summary of Fārābi’s concept of Prophecy shows striking similarity with Afg̲h̲āni’s views and leaves no doubt about the source of the latter’s viewpoint. It confirms the stand that both philosophy and prophecy are arts, however, while the status of philosopher is achieved by effort that of the prophet is the grace of God. This incident highlights the philosophical approach which is always applied by Afg̲h̲āni, like the Muslim philosophers of the past, for studying religion and the related issues. Such an attempt has always invited strong opposition from the theologians and led to the condemnation of philosophers or philosopher-theologians as heretics.
The next instance of Afg̲h̲āni’s unorthodox stance in a more forceful manner comes to fore in his discussion on ‘Islam and Science,’ initiated by Joseph Ernest Renan in the Journal des Debats in 1883, during the former’s stay in Paris.

In the history of modern European thought of the 18th and the 19th centuries, which is characteristic for its skeptic outlook towards popular beliefs, Joseph Ernest Renan11 occupied a place reminiscent of Voltaire. Both were condemned by the orthodox school and were against Christ. Renan took delight “in feeding upon the religious emotions of the orthodox, without feeling bound to pay for the pleasure by an affirmation of its legitimacy.”12 As a man of religious faith, he started his studies in the field of theology. When he came down to Paris for further education he studied Descartes, Pascal, and Malebranche. He also learned the Semitic languages as well as German so as to enable himself to study the Bible in original version.

These studies brought an overall change in his outlook. His studies in German philosophy had given him a wider outlook on the world of ideas. He was convinced that divine inspiration was out of question and that the Bible must bear the same critical treatment as any other great literature. This skepticism gradually developed into a total rejection of Christian beliefs and the religious institutions altogether.

Renan made acquaintance with Afg̲h̲āni when the latter came to Paris from London in 1883. Renan was then a Professor at Sorbonne. They seem to have met each other in Paris in April of the same year when Afg̲h̲āni was introduced to Renan by one of Renan’s friends, M. Ganem.13 Renan was considerably impressed by Afg̲h̲āni’s scholarship and, especially, by his rational approach to religious issues. Renan says: “It was in great measure my conversation with him that decided me in choosing for the subject of my lecture at the Sorbonne the relation between the scientific spirit and Islamism.”14 Renan delivered his lecture at the Sorbonne on March 29, 1883,15 which was published the same day in the Journal des Debats.16 Since Afg̲h̲āni’s views, which will be examined presently, were expressed in reply to certain remarks made by Renan in his lecture, a summary of the latter’s views is given below:

1 Condemning religion, Renan states: “Liberty is never more grievously wounded than by a social organization, in which religion absolutely dominates civil life. Of the two evils that follow in the train of lack of the scientific spirit, superstition and dogmatism, the latter is perhaps worse than the former.”

2 Renan criticizes Islam in the bitterest terms and holds that it is actually ‘the reign of a dogma.’ Islam is “the heaviest chain that humanity has ever borne. Islam is a thousand leagues far from that can be called rationalism or science.” It “has persecuted free thought, I shall not say more violently than other religions, but more effectually. A Muslim’s creed inspires him with an unjustifiable contempt for other religions, and renders his mind absolutely closed to knowledge, incapable of either learning anything or of being open to any new idea.” A Muslim “hates the natural sciences, because they are attempts at rivalry with God; the historical sciences, because, since they apply to times anterior to Islam, they may revive ancient heresies.” Ascribing the same anti-science role to Western theology, he apologizes on its behalf by saying that “it has not crushed out the modern spirit, as Islam has trodden out the spirit of the lands it has conquered.”

3 Surveying the intellectual development of the Muslims, Renan divides Islamic history into two periods: the first from the commencement of Islam up to the 12th century and the second from the 12th to 19th century. In the first period Islam, “undermined by sects and tempered by a species of Protestantism (known as Motazelism),” supported philosophy and the Muslims were intellectually far ahead than the Christians. In the second period philosophy saw its own persecution. The Muslim countries plunged into the most pitiable decadence, while Western Europe made rapid advances in scientific research. Philosophy was abolished in Muslim countries and except for Ibn Khald~un, Islam produced no man of great intellectual caliber. Since about the year A.D. 1200 not a single philosopher of renown has appeared in the Islamic lands.

4 Renan, further, points out that there is no such thing as Arabic science. He holds that all intellectual works by the Muslim writers could be called Arabic only in the sense that they were written in Arabic. All Muslim philosophers, except al-Kindi, were Arabs neither by blood nor in mind. Moreover, these sciences were not even Mohammadan. Renan states that the Muslim intellectual activity was carried on by the Parsees, Christians, Jews, Harranians, Ismā‘īlīs, who were “Mussalmans in internal revolt against their own religion.” Renan holds that it was only after A.D. 750 when Islam passed from the Arab race, that is, from the first four Caliphs and the Umayyads into the hands of the Persians, that is, the Abbasids, that a rational movement started in Islam. It was during the time of the Abbasids, who were Muslims only externally and not in spirit, that free thought flourished and developed. Hence the philosophical system of this period should not be considered as Arabic, it was really Graeco-Sassanian.

5 Lastly, Renan cites a contemporary document which, he said, was a letter of the Qāz̤ī of Mosul addressed to the English historian Austin H. Layard. On the basis of the contents of this letter, Renan tries to establish that there was a general lack of interest among the Muslims regarding knowledge and erudition.

Renan’s lecture drew the attention of several scholars in Paris. M. Mismer, in a lecture delivered in Sorbonne, refuted Renan’s stand and stated that Islam had never been against scientific progress. He held that those who had traveled in the Muslim lands would observe that the Muslims were awakening and assimilating those things which, without any hindrance from their religious faith, were leading the Muslims towards reformation and progress. He remarked that Renan could not have expressed such opinion had he studied the works by Sedillot and Durvey who had established the fact that the Arabs were marching ahead in various fields of science and in arts and literature at a time when Europe was still passing through the dark ages. Arabic science, in fact, progressed with the help of and not in opposition to religion.17

Afg̲h̲āni’s comments on Renan’s lecture were published in Journal des Debats, May 19, 1883.18 A summary of the same is given below:

In the beginning, Afg̲h̲āni praised him as “the great philosopher of our time, the illustrious Renan, whose reputation has filled the entire West and has penetrated into the most far-off lands of the East.” Then he acknowledged that Renan had brought forth certain facts about Islamic literature and culture which had remained unobserved until then.

He states that there were two important issues posed in Renan’s lecture which the latter had sought to prove by rational arguments; firstly, Islam, by its very nature, was opposed to scientific progress and second, the Arabs did not support philosophical sciences. A study of this lecture raises the question whether the obstacles in the way of scientific progress originated from the Islamic faith itself or were produced as a result of its manner of propagation.

As regards Renan’s first thesis, Afg̲h̲āni points out that, “It should not be expected from any nation to start its intellectual life with a rational outlook, nor could it be expected of a nation in the early stages of its life to be capable of distinguishing between harmful or beneficial elements for the sake of its progress. A nation in its embryonic stage is not capable of acquiring useful qualities or refraining from the harmful ones. It is for this reason that the human race should assist and guide such a nation in its material and spiritual crises, and this is the task which teachers and deliverers accomplish. Since the people fail by themselves to attain their objectives due to their ignorance, they have to fall back upon the guidance and teachings of such teachers. Since the leadership and guidance of these teachers is dependent upon the conception and belief in God, they do not allow their community to discuss the advantages and disadvantages of the existence of God. Undoubtedly, such a belief is a heavy responsibility on human beings (which has to be charged), but most of them have belittled the position of humanity in comparison with this great issue. However, it would not be denied that the teachings of all religions whether Islam, Christianity, or Idolatry, are similar in the common characteristic of liberating nations from barbarism and leading them to the highest peaks of culture. If it is true that the Muslim religion is an obstacle in the way of the development of sciences, can one affirm that this obstacle would not disappear one day? In what way does Muslim religion differ on this point from other religions? All the religions are intolerant, each one in its own manner … The Christian nation after its consolidation has liberated itself from the bondage of religion and seems to advance rapidly on the path of progress and sciences, whereas the Muslim society has not yet been freed from the tutelage of the religion. However, Afg̲h̲āni states: “We should not forget that Christianity preceded a few centuries earlier than Islam and I do not see any harm in hoping that the Muslim nation would gradually free itself from bondages and study Western culture.”

Afg̲h̲āni does not agree with Renan’s complete condemnation of Islam. He points out that nation have remained in a barbarous state mostly due to atheism. However, he concedes that in reality the ‘Islamic religion’ has sought to strangle the science and to stop all progress. Thus it has succeeded in stopping intellectual or philosophical movements, and in causing the minds to dissuade from the search of the scientific truth. This is similar to the role of the Catholics who have not yet surrendered and are still fighting with all their energies against what they describe as the soul of error and sin.

All the same, Afg̲h̲āni acknowledges that the Muslims all over the world are facing difficulties and hardships in the way of achieving cultural heights and are unable to discover the truth through philosophical arguments. He suggests that a true believer must turn to the studies which have for their object scientific truth and adopt those views which are approved by the Europeans. He remarks that a Muslim “Yoked like an ox to the plow, to the dogma whose slave he is, he must walk eternally in the same furrow which has been traced for him in advance by the interpreters of the law. Convinced, besides, that his religion contains in itself all morality and all learning, he attaches himself resolutely to it and makes no effort to go beyond.”19

As for the second thesis of Renan, Afg̲h̲āni argues that the Arabs began their intellectual advancement at a time when they were in a state of barbarous life. This progress was as fast as their political conquests were. Within a century they mastered all ancient Latin and Persian sciences and for considerable time ruled intellectually over the countries from the Himalayas up to Greece and Spain. However, the Arabs later grew forgetful of their sciences. He points out that the same thing had happened to Rome and Greece – the two centres which led the world in the fields of culture, science and philosophy; but when they abandoned investigation of belief and gave up philosophical arguments, their sciences deteriorated and they dwindled into oblivion. Before the appearance of intellectual stagnation, Afg̲h̲āni holds, the Arabs had made important contributions to the sciences, a fact that is sufficient to establish their position as the upholders of knowledge. He expresses surprise at the fact that the French, German and the Anglo-Saxons were nearer to Rome and Greece that the Arabs were and yet the former failed to be benefited by the Greek sciences. On the other hand, the Arabs despite the great distance (between Baghdad and the Greece) acquired the vast treasures of Greek knowledge, illuminated the West with their scientific enlightenment and introduced Aristotle into Europe. It was only after Europe was acquainted with Aristotle through the Arabs that it started progressing.

Afg̲h̲āni holds that Baghdad and Spain were the centres of literature and science at a time when the Arab Empire was the torchbearer of scientific culture. But after the sciences were neglected, these lands became centres of religious prejudices. Commenting upon Renan’s opinion that except al-Kindi no scholar of Islam was Arab, Afg̲h̲āni points out that the Arabic language serves as an important basis for treating philosophers like Ibn Bāja, Ibn Rushd and Ibn t̤ufail, as representatives of Arab literary contribution.20 The Arabs struggled for the furtherance of Islamic aims. The conquered nations were not averse to their conqueror’s language and were willing to acquire it. The Arabs did not compel anyone to learn Arabic. “Undoubtedly, Islam penetrated into the countries which it acquired by the use of violence (which is known), transplanted its language, culture and literature in them, and they have not been able to get out of its literary and religious influence ever since.”

In the concluding remarks Afg̲h̲āni states: “It is permissible…. to ask one’s self why the Arab civilization, after having thrown such a live light on the world, suddenly became extinguished; why this torch has not been relit since, and why the Arab world still remains buried in profound darkness.

“Here the responsibility of the Muslim religion appears complete. It is clear that wherever it became established, this religion tried to stifle science and it was marvelously served in its designs by despotism.

“Al-Siouti tells that the Caliph al-Hadi put to death in Baghdad 5000 philosophers in order to destroy sciences in the Moslem countries up to their roots. Admitting that this historian exaggerated the number of victims, it remains nonetheless established that this persecution took place… I could find in the past of the Christian religion analogous facts. Religions, whatever names they are given, all resemble each other. No agreement and no reconciliation are possible between religion and philosophy. Religion imposes on man its faith and its belief, whereas philosophy frees him of it totally or in part. How could one therefore hope that they would agree with each other? Wherever religion will have the upper hand, it will eliminate philosophy; and the contrary happens when it is philosophy which reigns as queen. As long as humanity exists, the struggle will not cease between dogma and free investigation, between religion and philosophy; a desperate struggle in which, I fear, the triumph will not be for free thought, because the masses dislike reason and its teachings are understood by some intelligences of the elite, and because science, however, beautiful it is, does not completely satisfy humanity, which thirsts for the ideal and which likes to exist in dark and distant regions which the philosophers and scholars can neither perceive nor explore.”21

Renan’s Reply

Afg̲h̲āni’s article was published in the Journal des Debats of May 18, 1883, to which Renan replied the following day in the same journal.22

He starts his reply with and acknowledgement of the philosophic spirit underlying Afg̲h̲āni’s intellectual personality. “Few persons have produced a more vivid impression upon me. It was in great measure my conversation with him that decided me in choosing for the subject of my lecture at the Sorbonne the relation between the scientific spirit and Islamism. The Sheik Gemmal Eddin is an Afghan, entirely emancipated from the prejudices of Islam; he belongs to those energetic races of the upper Iran bordering upon India, in which the Aryan spirit still flourishes as strongly, under the superficial garb of official Islamism. He is the best proof of that great axiom, which we have often proclaimed, that the worth of religions is to be determined by the worth of the races that profess them. The freedom of his thought, his noble and loyal character, made me believe, when in his presence, that I had before me, in a resuscitated state, one of my old acquaintance, Avicenna, Averroes or some other of those skeptics who for five centuries represented the tradition of the human spirit. The contrast was especially apparent to me when I compared this striking similarity with the spectacle presented by Moslim countries other than Persia, countries where scientific and philosophical curiosity is so rare a thing. The Sheik Gemmal Eddin is the finest case of racial protest against religious conquest that could be cited.”23

Renan expressed satisfaction that Afg̲h̲āni, as a whole, agreed with his views. However, he disagreed with Afg̲h̲āni’s views on the question of the Arabs’ contribution to science and pointed out that everything that was written in Arabic was not the contribution of Islam. “All that is written in Latin is not to the glory of Rome; all that is written in Greek is not Hellenic work; all that is written in Arabic is not of Arabic production; all that is done in a Christian country is not the result of Christianity; all that is done in a Mohammadan country is not the fruit of Islam.” Renan agreed with Afg̲h̲āni’s remark that the former had not sufficiently developed the idea that not only Islam but all religions had been hostile to positive science. However, Renan pointed out, science had nearly liberated itself from the bondage of religious dogma in the Christian countries. He hoped that the same would happen in the case of Islam. That will be the day,

Renan significantly remarks, when “the Sheik and I will be at one, and ready to applaud heartily.” Renan explained that he did not mean to say that the Muslims would always remain in ignorance. On the other hand, the liberal Muslim thinkers were growing conscious of the necessity for spreading education among the Muslim people. However, he expressed doubt about finding among such thinkers men who would see clearly the contradiction between religion and science. He pointed out that, “there will be few so distinguished as the Sheik Gemmal Eddin… who will sever their connection with Islam as we ourselves have separated from Catholicism.”

Finally, Renan stated that Afg̲h̲āni had fully supported his two fundamental theses, namely, during the first half of its existence Islam encouraged sciences and, secondly, during the latter half it stiffed the scientific movement within it.

It is apparent, therefore, that Afg̲h̲āni in his letter has given expression to ideas that do not conveniently fit into the framework of his religious thought. He fails in his attempt to balance his condemnation of religious faith for its intolerance towards science by his appreciation of the constructive role of religions in the uplift of human society. He acknowledges that religions have raised nations from barbarous to the civilized state of life. He also praises the Arabs for the patronage and encouragement which they extended to Greek sciences and describes them as responsible for bringing about enlightenment in the West by introducing Aristotle into Europe.

However, he seems to make a distinction between the historical role of the Arabs and the attitude of the Islamic faith towards science. He agrees with Renan in accusing Islam for suppressing science, a characteristic which he considers as inherent in the teachings of all religions. However, the most significant of his remarks are about the attitude of Islam towards science and the compatibility of religion with science. Although his contention that Islam has stifled science with the active help of despotism apparently refers to the role of Islam in a particular period of history, it also shows that he had faith in Islam as the upholder of science, an opinion which he has often repeated. Again, in his concluding remarks he declares in more precise terms that religion and philosophy are two contradictory forces which could never be reconciled, and expresses the ‘fear’ that in the continuous struggle between the two, the ultimate victory will be of dogma and not of philosophy.

Now, such an approach is quite different from the estimation of Afg̲h̲āni as a man who believed in religion as the basis of human society, as he appears to be in all other writings, especially in his treatise on the refutation of the naturalists. He appears more as one who believed in rationalism as opposed to religion, whereas in his other writings he seems to employ reason in support of religious faith.

Doubts have been expressed whether these views really belong to Afg̲h̲āni or are simply a distorted version of his actual point of view. Muḥammad ḥamidullah holds that the views of Afg̲h̲āni were probably distorted by Renan himself. He bases this opinion upon a similar distortion of a document which Renan made in his own lecture.24 This was a letter of the Qāz̤ī of Mosul addressed to the English historian Austin H. Layard.25 The translation of this letter Renan owed to “a kind transmission.” Layard, according to Renan, asked the Qāz̤ī for certain information regarding trade, population, etc. of Mosul and the essence of the reply as quoted is that the Qazi declined to furnish the required information stating that his religion prohibited interest in such matters. By citing this contemporary evidence Renan intended to support his thesis that the reason for the backwardness of the Muslim community was its own religion. In 1910, the Turkish poet Nāmiq Kamāl published a book in Turkish, entitled, Renan Mudafa‘asi, questioning the authenticity of this letter.26 Later, in 1927, Louis Massignon discussed this issue and concluded that the letter “shows so deliciously sarcastic a humor that it can very well have as its author none other than Renan himself.”27 Thus, Muḥammad ḥamidullah ascribes the views contained in Afg̲h̲āni’s letter to Renan and not to Afg̲h̲āni. He states that he has failed to trace the original letter in Arabic attributed to Afg̲h̲āni and that he does not believe that it was written from the same Jamāl al-Din as is known through his writings and his personal acquaintances. Further, this letter is not dated and was published seven weeks after the publication of Renan’s letter. He points out that Afg̲h̲āni could not have waited for two months to write a letter; it must have been written immediately, but its publication was delayed, “which was not a thing to be astonished in Western journalism.” When at last it was published it did not come to the notice of Afg̲h̲āni who, M. Hamidullah thinks, “had other difficulties to look after.” In Afg̲h̲āni’s views also, he concludes, “the self same Renan indulges as it seems to us in yet a more flagrant license.”28

The above arguments, however, do not carry weight and do not actually lead one to the conclusion that the views of Afg̲h̲āni were distorted as a whole. There are some additional facts which should be studied so as to reach any final decision.

The first point that goes against the distortion theory is the absence of any refutation or rejection of the letter by Afg̲h̲āni himself, who, as his career shows, was always prompt not to let the attacks by his political and intellectual opponents go unanswered. Nor could it be explained, as M. ḥamidullah does, by the argument that the article had not come to the notice of Afg̲h̲āni. In fact, the letter of Afg̲h̲āni had precipitated a major controversy and produced a vigorous resentment among the Muslim youth present in Paris at the time. Aḥmad Amīn states that Afg̲h̲āni’s article was not received favorably by the Muslim youth in Paris since he wrote it in a mild tone, appreciated Renan’s arguments and his justice (to the subject) and has acknowledged his being benefited by Renan’s thoughts. Hence they neither gave importance to it nor published its Arabic translation anywhere.29 Goldziher states that certain ḥasan ‘āṣim had written a refutation of Afg̲h̲āni’s views.30

In view of these facts it becomes clear that the issue was widely discussed and as such, could not have escaped Afg̲h̲āni’s notice. Yet, there is no evidence of any contradiction by him or clarification of his viewpoint. It is interesting to note that Afg̲h̲āni made no reference to this controversy in his own journal al-‘Urvah al-Vu_sqā, which he started publishing a year later. Hence, it might not be incorrect to conclude that Afg̲h̲āni must have given expression to such views, though not so pointedly and in such a sharp language, a thing which could only be attributed to the translated version, if not to the original letter. The extremely unorthodox nature of Afg̲h̲āni’s stand with implications damaging his reputation had also been recognized by Muḥammad ‘Abduh in a letter which he wrote to Afg̲h̲āni from Beirut on June 14, 1883, that is, about one month after the publication of Afg̲h̲āni’s letter.31 On hearing of its publication ‘Abduh wanted to publish its Arabic translation. However, after receiving the journal and a letter from Afg̲h̲āni he gave up the idea with the intriguing remark that he was following Afg̲h̲āni’s rule that “we do not cut the head of Islam (rās al-dīn) except with sword of Islam (saif al-dīn).32 The letter of Afg̲h̲āni is not available which could have clarified his own position on this issue. However, ‘Abduh’s letter indicates that Afg̲h̲āni himself was not in favor of the Arabic translation, meaning thereby that he expected negative reaction from Muslim readers. Absence of any unfavorable reaction from ‘Abduh indicates that he was satisfied with the stand of Afg̲h̲āni which he consistently supported in all his writings. It is difficult to assume that a not so radical a thinker like ‘Abduh would have accepted Afg̲h̲āni’s condemnation of Islam without a protest. As such, Afg̲h̲āni’s stand in his reply appears more as anti-tradition than anti-Islam. Aḥmad Amīn, obviously taking the letter as genuine, criticizes Afg̲h̲āni as not having a deep study of Muslim character and the nature of Islamic religion. He remarks that Afg̲h̲āni has not sufficiently discussed the issue whether the stagnation of sciences was due to the very nature of Islam or was it brought about by stagnated and degenerated form of that religion. He says that it seems that Afg̲h̲āni was not clear about the exact scope of religion and science either; he seems to have been convinced that religion and science should act independently, and that religion should not interfere with matters approved by science. Aḥmad Amīn further suggests that in his discussions with Renan, Afg̲h̲āni might have acquired a wider outlook, as great thinkers are prone to do, and expressed such views which Renan characterized as supporting his own thesis. Aḥmad Amīn further points out that Afg̲h̲āni was described by his friends like Muḥammad ‘Abduh as having views similar to those of the mystics, and it happens that the beliefs of the Sufis (like Ibn-i ‘Arabi), in the interpretations of such beliefs, often come closer to heretical conceptions.33
The above discussion does not help solve the intriguing nature of Afg̲h̲āni’s views, whether the text of Afg̲h̲āni’s reply is taken as genuine or distorted. However, a re-examination of Afg̲h̲āni’s letter poses another relevant question as to whether the French version represents the correct translation of the Arabic original. This question has to be considered in view of certain grave inconsistencies contained in Afg̲h̲āni’s argument itself. Firstly, with regard to the role of religion vis-à-vis science, he takes two mutually contradictory positions. On the one hand, he believes that religions in themselves are intolerant of science and, at the same time, he emphasizes that all religions, whether monotheistic or polytheistic, have liberated nations from barbarism to the highest peaks of culture, a process which obviously implies scientific progress. This positive role of religion is again stressed by his remark that nations have remained in a barbarous state mostly due to atheism. Second, with regard to the role of Islam vis-à-vis science, his analysis again shows contradictions. He holds that Islam has suppressed sciences, with the support of despotism wherever it has established itself by force. Nevertheless, at the same time, he forcefully argues that during the first phase (which saw the most decisive expansion of the Arab empire) the Muslims have achieved the highest intellectual advancement, mastered all sciences and in fact ruled over the world intellectually. If Islam is inherently anti-science, as he argues, then there is no explanation for the intellectual advancement of Muslims in the early phase except to hold that the Muslims during this phase were not attached to Islam—an assumption which is most unconvincing. In any case it is not understandable to regard a religious system, based on unchanging beliefs and values, supporting sciences in one period of history and suppressing it in another. How is it that a shrewd intellectual like Afg̲h̲āni allowed such inconsistencies in one of his most important expositions on Islam? It certainly suited Renan to ignore them as the whole thrust of Afg̲h̲āni’s argument in the translated version went much beyond his own indictment of the anti-science character of all religious systems. Is there any reasonable explanation to this intriguing stand of Afg̲h̲āni, particularly with reference to his views on Islam expressed before or after? There appears to exist one. A careful analysis of the text leads one to the two most important words used in the controversial passages of his reply – Islam and dogma. We do not know which exact expressions he had used in his Arabic original for these two words. The vital difference between the two need not be overemphasized but it is essential to notice it in order to fix responsibility on either of the two for a particular development. It is not improbable that while making the French translation this distinction, which might have been present in the original, would have been ignored, since in the Western tradition of Islamic/Muslim studies the word ‘Islam’, apparently for the sake of convenience, has been used and continues to be used not directly for the faith but also for Muslim society and its political, theological and intellectual traditions and institutions which emerged in history. In all probabilities, this error exists in the French version. Subsequently, if this error is rectified by making a distinction between Islam and Muslim tradition (which must have been observed in the original Arabic text) Afg̲h̲āni’s argument would run as follows:

Islam, as a faith, is not against scientific investigation. Islam, like all other religions in their respective societies and ages, has led the Arabs from the state of barbarism to the highest peaks of culture.34 As such, the Muslims of the earlier phase, during which the religious urge was the strongest, supported and promoted scientific studies, discovered the heritage of science (Greek and Persian) and ruled over the world intellectually. However, during the second phase, the pure faith of Islam was transformed, through the interpreters of law, into a dogma which opposed free investigation. The Muslim despots supported dogma and suppressed philosophy and free investigation (which posed a threat to despotism and its interests). The use of the words ‘Muslim religion’ or ‘Islam’ in the text as being responsible for stifling science during this phase appears to represent not the Islamic faith, as such, but the traditional theological setup and Muslim despotic structure. This interpretation is supported by another similar intriguing remark of Afg̲h̲āni made in a letter addressed to Muḥammad ‘Abduh (referred above) immediately after publication of Afg̲h̲āni’s reply. He is quoted to have said that “we never cut the head of religion (rās al-dīn) except with the sword of Islam (saif al-Dīn).” The word Rās need not be taken in its literal meaning of ‘head’ but, more appropriately, meaning as the ‘leaders’ in which case rās al-dīn would stand for the leaders of religion, that is, the theologians or the custodians of religion. Consequently, Afg̲h̲āni’s remark means that the might and hold of the theologians have to be broken with true Islamic interpretations only. Thus, there does not remain any doubt about Afg̲h̲āni’s holding the tradition of theological interpretation of Islam as responsible for converting true Islamic teachings into a dogma—a religious system discouraging scientific progress during the second phase of intellectual degeneration of Muslims.

Finally, his views on religion and philosophy in general are to be examined. In the beginning of his reply he has said that all religions are inherently intolerant of science. This statement has to be compared with his comments made at the end of the reply. There he admits that science and religion function in two different spheres altogether. Science and philosophy, he believes, cannot satisfy completely the thirst of humanity for the ideal “which likes to exist in dark and distant regions which the philosophers and scholars can neither perceive nor explore” – a task which he appears to assign to religion. That is, he makes a clear distinction between the actual (to be investigated by philosophy and science) and the ideal (to be perceived and explored by religion).

Religion and science, therefore, cannot annihilate each other, they can co-exist (as they did, for instance, in the early phase of Islam). This balance would be disturbed, for the discomfiture of both, if one attempts to interfere with the other. Afg̲h̲āni’s fear that in the eternal struggle between the two to have an upper hand, religion would ultimately triumph, is in fact a fear of disappearance of the desirable balance between the two. He points out that this may happen (not because of the inherent anti-science nature of religion, but) because common people due to their intellectual limitations are not able to appreciate the inevitability of reason as a means of their progress. This implies that the common people with the required intellectual competence could maintain the independence of the spheres of philosophy and religion.

The above analysis of Afg̲h̲āni’s views holds traditional version of Islam as projected by its interpreters and theologians and not Islam, as such, responsible for the intellectual degeneration of Muslims the world over. This perfectly fits into Afg̲h̲āni’s philosophical framework which he has used in his earlier work, Radd-i Nīcariyat, and his criticism of the ‘ulamā with regard to their role vis-à-vis philosophy and modern sciences in his articles written two years back in India.

Besides his own writings, his image emerging out of the comments of his close associates and disciples is also of a thinker absolutely free from the bonds of traditional Islamic concepts offering an invitation to label him as no less than a heretic. The general impression which he produced upon those whom he met was that of an intellectual interpreting Islam in a terminology and with an approach totally unfamiliar to the minds of traditional training. In Egypt, the Shaik̲h̲s of al-Azhar found his teachings as against the true beliefs of Islam35 and described him as a mulḥid.36 A similar description is given by Salīm al-‘Anh~uri, a Syrian writer, who was close to Afg̲h̲āni in Egypt in 1870’s.37 According to him, Afg̲h̲āni drifted towards ilḥād during his stay in India in the early stage of his education. Afg̲h̲āni believed that the concept of God was an illusion and a product of the primitive stage of human fear of death and powers of nature. However, ‘Anh~uri withdrew this assessment on the persuasion of Muhammad ‘Abduh who discussed with hi_m Afg̲h̲āni’s beliefs.38 Later, in India (Hyderabad) he impressed some as a ‘free thinker of the French type and a socialist.39 During his last days in Istanbul, Abul Huda, Sult̤ān ‘Abdul ḥamid’s chief adviser on religious affairs, accused Afg̲h̲āni of holding heretical views.40

A comment by one of his close disciples, Muḥammad Pāshā Makhz~umi during his last days in Istanbul, sums up Afg̲h̲āni both as a believer and a rationalist, as follows:

“The gatherings of Afg̲h̲āni used to attract people of different faith and diverse schools of thought. This made it necessary for him to address each person in a way suitable to his intelligence and preparedness, and to take into consideration his beliefs. He engaged in arguments those who would strip God of attributes, the materialists as well as bigoted divines. He expounded the philosophers, their writings and their systems; outlined their reasoning and conclusions.
Thus opinions about him differed. Some considered him a renegade, others a religious fanatic. Many attributed to him the atheism found in some philosophical treatises. This was also the view held by common people of different sects who attended his gatherings and heard things they could not understand. Unconsciously they would transmit a distorted version of his teaching, proudly claiming to be his disciples and to have learned their unbelief (kufr) from him.”41

 

 

References
1 Biography, pp. 15-16
2 Documents, plate1, photo2. Biography, pp. 37-38
3 Documents, plate 3, photo 9, Eng. tr. Biography, p. 54
4 Risālah, pp. 5-6, See also, E.G. Browne, The Persian Revolution, pp. 69-70; Mashāhīr, ii, p. 55; ā_sār, pp. 69-70
5 Halil Fevzi, Suy~uf al-Qawāti, Istanbul, 18700, summarized by Homa Pakdaman, Dajamal-ed-Din Assadabadi dit Afg̲h̲āni, Paris, 1969, quoted Biography, pp. 68-70
6 ā_sār, p. 70
7 Halil Fewzi, op. cit., quoted, Biography, p. 73
8 Biography, pp. 75-80
9 Ibid.
10 Ibrahim Madkur, art., “Al-Farabi,” in M. M. Sharif (ed.) The History of Muslim Philosophy, i, pp. 463-65; Lut̤fi Jum‘a, Ta‘rīk̲h̲ al-Falāsafah al-Islām, Urdu tr. (Hyderabad, 1941), pp. 47ff.
11 Was born in 1823 and died in 1893. Among his works Ibn Rushd and Ibn Rushdism, Origins of Christianity, History of the Israelites and Life of Jesus, are well known
12 William G. Hutchinson, The Poetry of Celtic Races and other Studies, London, 1896, Introduction, p. x
13 Ibid., p. 104
14 Ibid.
15 For the English translation of the lecture, Cf. Ibid., pp. 84ff. For its Urdu version, Cf. Qāz̤ī Aḥmad Miyān Ak̲h̲tar J~unāga|dhi, Islām aur ‘Ilm, Azamgarh, 1934, pp. 14ff.
16 Muhammad Hamidullah, “Ernest Renan and Jamal al-Din Afg̲h̲āni,” Islamic Review, London, May, June, 1958, pp. 33 et seq.
17 Zu‘amā, pp. 87-88. For the Urdu translation of the lecture, Cf. Qāz̤i Aḥmad Miyān Ak̲h̲tar, op. cit., pp. 43ff.
18 The original Arabic text is not traceable. For the Persian translation of the same, Cf. Murtaz̤ā, op. cit., pp. 54-62, which is based on the Arabic translation by Muhammad Hamidullah of the French version. For the French version, see, Sayyid Jamal al-Din al-Afg̲h̲~ni, Refutation des Materialists, by A.M. Goichon, Paris, 1942. For a summary in English see, Biography, pp. 190-195. A summary appears in Zu‘amā, pp. 98-93; Muḥammad ḥamidullah, op. cit., pp. 33 et seq. In the beginning of his letter Afg̲h̲āni says that one of his friends had translated for him the article of Renan and that he would reply in Arabic. Its French version appeared in the Journal des Debats with a note by Renan that it was a faithful translation of the original Arabic text. M. Hamidullah, op. cit., p. 35
19 A.M. Goichon, op. cit., pp. 177-78
20 Here a reference should be made to a note by the Indian scholar Syed Ameer ‘Ali who sought to refute this view of Renan by producing evidence to the effect that besides the above mentioned philosophers there were several other distinguished scholars who were Arabs by blood. Again, quoting passages from Renan’s reply, he describes such criticism as “an insult to common sense and intelligence,” The Spirit of Islam, Calcutta, 1902, pp. 424-29
21 A.M. Goichon, op, cit., pp. 178-85. Eng. Tr. Biography, pp. 190-95
22 Hutchinson, op. cit., pp. 103ff. Renan states in a note to his reply: “A remarkably intelligent Afghan Sheikh, visiting Paris having published in the Journal des Debats of May 18th 1883, some remarks upon the preceding lecture, I replied next day in the same journal as follows.” Ibid.
23 Hutchinson, op. cit., p. 104
24 Loc. cit., pp. 33ff.
25 Hutchinson, op. cit., pp. 100ff. Austin Henry Layard visited Mosul about 1845 for the excavation of Nineveh. A description of this visit is found in his Nineveh and Its Remains, London, 1949.
26 M. Hamidullah, op. cit., pp. 33-34
27 Ibid., pp. 34-35
28 Ibid., p. 35
29 Zu‘amā, p. 89
30 Encyclopedia of Islam, art., Djemal al-Din Al-Afg̲h̲āni.”
31 Documents,, photos 138-140. For a description of this stand as anti-Islam see Elie Kedourie, Afg̲h̲āni and Abdul An Essay on Religious Unbelief and Political Activism in Modern Islam, London, 1966, pp. 44-45
32 Ibid.
33 Zu‘amā, pp. 111-12
34 About five years earlier Afg̲h̲āni had said that the Muslims in their early period did not have any sciences but due to Islamic faith there was created among them a ‘spirit of philosophy’ which led them towards investigation of the affairs of the world and human requirements. This was the reason why they translated all sciences devoted to particular objects from Syriac, Persian and Greek into Arabic and mastered all such sciences in a short time during the period of Mans~ur Dawaniqi. Risālah, pp. 92-93. See also pp. 8 supra ff.
35 Statement of ‘Abduh in, t̤āhir al-Tinali, (ed.), Muz̲ākirāt al-Imām ‘Abduh, Cairo, 1961, pp. 34-36
36 Ibrāhīm Hilbāwi, “Ahamm ḥadi_s_sarah fi Majrā Hayāti,” Al-Hilāl, xxxviii, Dec., 1929, p. 138-40; Anwar al-Jundi, Al-Sharq fi Fajr al-Yaqzā ,(Cairo, 1960), p. 20, quoted, Biography, p. 83
37 Ta‘rik̲h̲, pp. 43-44
38 Risālah, pp. 11-13
39 A report submitted by Syed ḥusain to the British Resident in Hyderabad, Cordery, June 20, 1883, enclosed in F.O. 60/594, Cordery to India Office, June 25, 1883, quoted, Biography, pp. 144-45. Syed ḥusain’s full name is Sayyid ḥusain Bilgrāmi, ‘Imādul Mulk, who was Secretary to Sālārjung I. This assessment is in sharp contrast with Afg̲h̲āni’s image in his Hyderabad writings, particularly in his hard-hitting attack on Syed Aḥmad k̲h̲ān ‘naturalism’ which he equated with materialism and atheism. See Chapter 4
40 Mag̲h̲ribi, op. cit., pp. 35-36. It is to be noted that such accusations were made during the last days of Afg̲h̲āni’s stay in Istanbul when due to his radical political views he had become suspicious in the eyes of the Sultan.
41 k̲h̲āt̤irāt (Arabic), pp. 118-19. Eng. tr. in, Sami A Hanna, “Al-Afg̲h̲āni: A Pioneer of Islamic Socialism,” Muslim World, LVII, 1 (Jan., 1967), p. 25