Sunday, May 8, 2016

Why “Kalam”?

 By Tarek Ghanem

(Published on Masud.co.uk)

  • 12, April, 2016
What is in the name ‘kalam’? How the word kalam came to be the name of the science of Islamic theology reveals interesting findings regarding both the unique function and scope of the science itself, on the one hand, and its wider relation to other Islamic sciences, on the other. The word kalam literally means speech, discourse or conversations. Its meanings also include discourse, discursiveness, argumentation, or disputation. As a name of a religious science kalam covers the theological productions and discourses of different Islamic denominations, including Sunnism, Shi`aism, and Mu`tazlim, and Zaydism. Although there are numerous names designated to this science, the word kalam came to be most commonly used among experts and practitioners over other names, as will be further explained below.
One of the most interesting—and sometimes confusing, for some—is that, unlike other Islamic sciences which have had one consistent name since their formulation, the science of kalam has had several names. Understanding the conceptual and historical reasons of what’s in the name of science of kalam is relevant to the study of kalam whether in traditional or academic settings. Traditionally, acquiring knowledge of the different aspects of a science, including its name, subject-matter, founders, among other aspects, has always been part of traditional pedagogical methodology[i]. Historically there were numerous names of kalam, including: (1) al-fiqh al-akbar (lit. the grand understanding), which is chronologically the oldest known name, as it was used as a title for a theological manual by Imam Abu Hanifa al-Nu`man (d. 80/699); (2) `ilm al-kalam, the most common especially among experts; (3) `ilm usul al-din (lit. the foundations of religion), in contrast to the science of Legal Methodology (usul al-fiqh), and together, these two sciences constitute the core of Islamic intellectualism; (4)`ilm al-`aqa’id (doctrines, or `ilm al-`aqida, using the singular); (5) `ilm al-tawhid or`ilm al-tawhid wa al-sifat (the science divine unity and attributes), and this name refers to its cardinal and focal subject matters; and finally (6) `ilm al-nazar wa al-istidlal (the science of theory and inference)[ii]. Whether by signifying the importance of the science (like in previous names 1 and 3), its scope (names 4 and 5), or methodological and logical modes (2 and 6), the previous names surely reflect the core aspects and mode Islamic theology.
As a science, kalam is traditionally defined as “A science which enables the affirmation of religious doctrines by presenting arguments and getting rid of misconceptions”, to use one of the most cited definitions.[iii] As a word, however, kalam, connotes the fluidity and circularity of dialects and debates. Applying such a word to what should naturally be as fixed and anchored as tents and doctrines of faith, makes this combinatory relation worthy of engaging with and attempting to unfold.
The most extensive account of why this science came to be called `ilm al-kalam can be found in Imam al-Taftazani’s seminal commentary on the famous theological manual of Al-`aqaid al-Nasafiyya, in which he starts by listing the eight common reasons why kalam can be so called:
  • It was common among theologians to say, “The discourse (al-kalam fi) on such and such matter is…”.
  • The question of divine speech (al-kalam), and whether the Quran is created is most famous among its subject-matters.
  • When practiced, this science develops a [dialectic] ability for debating (kalam) to establish revelatory matters and to persuade opponents.
  • It is to religious knowledge what logic (Arb. mantiq, uttering) is to philosophy. Also because it is the first among sciences to be taught and learned through discourse (kalam), and this is why it was so named especially and why the name was not given to any other science.
  • It is fully realized through discussion and managing argumentation (idarat al-kalam) from both sides, while other sciences can be attained through contemplation and reading books
  • It is the most disputable and contentious among these sciences, which intensifies the need to converse with (al-kalam ma`a) the adversaries and rebutting them.
  • Due to the force of its evidences, it because as if it is thought of as being the discourse (al-kalam), and no other science apart from it is seen as such.
  • Since it is based on definitive proofs, the majority of which are supported by textual or revelational proofs (adila sam`iyya), and the strongest science in its effect on the heart and the extent of its immersion into it. This is why it was called kalam, which is derived from kalam or kalim (from the root kaf-lam-mim) meaning a ‘wound’.
Imam al-Taftazani also mentions five additional and original reasons about the naming of kalam in the same work, arguing,
  • That the Companions and the tabi`un (successors) engaged directly with divine speech (kalam), i.e. scripture, because of their mastery of inferring religious doctrines directly from it. Resorting to the science ofkalam then is therefore a substitute of that for those whose ability falls short of the ability to engage with scripture.
  • It is differentiated and triumphed over the doctrines of philosophers by its correspondence to the words (kalam, kalima, word) of Allah and its keeping away from violating it.
  • It does not benefit the physical acts of worship, but only doctrinal beliefs, and as such it is mere discourse (kalam).
  • It is the emphasis on stirring arguments, it is the opposite to ‘calmness’ of clarity (tasfiyya) which is dependent on silence (sukut), and as such it is called after the antonym of silence, which is speech (kalam).
  • It is a combination of the letters ka and In knowing principles of methodical thought, it is ‘like’ (as denoted by the letter ka) attached to the particle lam denoting ikhtisas meaning signifying the ‘ascription of particularization’ (i.e. that something particular is ascribed or associated with something else). As such it is a compound name (ism murakkab) made by combining kaf al-tashbih (the letter ka of resemblances or metaphors) with the particle lam, although it came to known through usage as a singular noun (ism mufrad)[iv].
If thought about inversely, it is probably this very expansive nature of the mode and scope of Islamic theology that have caused the emergence of so many names for it. This echoes the famous mystical aphorism of Imam al-Nifarri; ‘the more the scope of the vision is expanded, the more confined the utterance of expression becomes’ (idha itas`a al-ma`na ḍaqat al-`ibara).
No wonder then that in the English academic literature the science of kalam enjoys a wide gamut of translations: from ‘the science of dialectics’[v], to ‘dogmatic theology’[vi], or a speculative system of philosophical thought[vii], to ‘Islamic speculative theology’[viii], and to natural theology or philosophical theism[ix]. It was even argued to be equivalent to the Greek meaning of “logos” in the various senses of this word, despite the limitations this imposes on the expansive nature of the science.[x] Surely the above wide range of translations affects perceptions with the regard to the contents and the dynamics of the science.
Practitioners and experts of kalam operated within a complex and multifaceted scope of functions. To shed light on the wider epistemological context related to this scope, and in ways that correspond to the justifications previously listed by Imam al-Taftazani, the scope of kalam is best understood in the following light:
Since the subject-matter of `ilm al-tawhid is what is ‘known’ (al-ma`lum) by virtue of its connection to affirming doctrines, no one then should object when they see the scholars of tawhid engaging in natural science, mathematics, medicine, even philosophy, as well as other sciences, since this falls within the core of their mandated mission… The upshot is that this science investigates the fixed judgments for divine essence, His attributes, the states of the contingent beings (mumkinat) in the ‘here-now’ and hereafter according to the ‘law of Islam’ (qanun al-Islam). What is meant by the ‘laws of Islam’ is the means to knowledge in Islam, in the same way it is well known that every comprehensive overarching principle and comprehensive [epistemological] system has its own criteria and measurements with which it weighs and assesses matters. These measurements are the epistemological tools. Known subjects must then be in-line with Islamic epistemological theory. Every epistemological means whose validity has been definitely established is an Islamic epistemological means”[xi]
Certainly, however, the adoption of the name kalam and the association of the discipline and engagement with philosophical argumentation did not come without a price[xii]. This very naming became a tool used by scholars who criticized Islamic theology’s deployment of and engagement with the philosophical method. The word was used as a pun in both statements and book titles criticizing these aspects of the science, by dismissing kalamscholarship as mere hollow talk or speculation.[xiii] Modern anti-kalam Sunni movements use the science oftawhid and `aqida instead for Islamic theology. On the other end of the spectrum, interestingly enough, many reformist theological movements, both Sunni and Shi`a, cling to the word and instead call for a ‘new kalam’ (`ilm al-kalam al-jadid).[xiv]
Finally, one of the most interesting aspects of Islamic sciences is that if one juxtaposes their names in one cluster, one can find that there is a shared link between the linguistic and intellectual[xv]. The names of the core Islamic sciences starting from the Quran (a word whose literal meaning denotes reading, reciting as well as differentiation), Prophetic tradition or hadith (denotes telling, narrating, tradition, and reporting), scriptural exegesis or tafsir (lit. explaining, interpreting, or unveiling a meaning), jurisprudence or fiqh (a word means to acquire a subtle understanding), and logic or mantiq (lit. utterance) as well as the previous explication of the meaning of kalam, suggest an epistemic relation. Although the context here does not allow for adequate expanding, but this epistemic relation can be best understood in the light of the centrality of knowledge in Islam[xvi] and the sciences of Shari`ah, chief among which is theology, and that such a knowledge is to be lived, breathed, embodied and certainly practiced rationally, physically, and spiritually; in the same way ideas are spoken and conversed.
As expressed by Wael Hallaq, Shari`ah, within which kalam, with its wide scope, operates, is essentially a discursive practice.
Shari`ah represented a complex set of social, economic, moral and cultural relations that permeated the epistemic structures of the social and political order. It was a discursive practice in which these relations intersected with each other, acted upon each other and affected one another in a multiple ways…Indeed, the theological substrate encompassed the muddily mystical, the esoterically pantheistic and rationally philosophical. thereby creating complex relations between the Shari`ah and the larger spiritual and intellectual orders in which, and alongside which, it lived and functioned…[A] discursive practice that structurally and organically tied itself to the world around it in ways that were vertical and horizontal, structural and linear, economic and social, moral and ethical, intellectual and spiritual epistemic and cultural and textual and poetic, among much more.[xvii]
The naming of the science of kalam has a particular significance; from the uniqueness of having numerous different names, the particularity and the different denotations and connotations of the term kalam, and the linguistic and historical reasons for how the discipline of Islamic theology came to be known as such, and the linguistic relation with the names of other Islamic disciplines. As erudite scholar of kalam Hasan al-Shafi`i argues, studying the importance of this special name “sheds light on the development of the history of the science [of kalam] and its developments, increases one’s readiness and preparedness to study it, and makes the initial study of it an insightful one.”[xviii]

Endnotes:

[i] This is embodied in what is known as the ‘ten principles’ (al-mabadi’ al-`ashra) which are conventionally taught as an introduction at the outset of learning any of the Islamic sciences in traditional circles. These ten principles are combined in famous verses of poetry by Imam al-Sabban on his supra-commentary the famous logical text of Al-sullam. These ten principles compromise: (1) The definition of the science, (2) its subject-matters, (3) the outcome of studying it, (4) the virtues of significance of studying it, (5) its relation to other sciences, (6) its founder(s), (7) its name, (8) its foundational resources, (9) the religious ruling of studying it, and finally (10) its main questions. Al-Sabban, Hashiyya `ala Sharh al-Sullam lil-Mallawi. Cairo; Maṭabi` al-Halabi al-Babi, 2nd edition, 1938, p. 35.
[ii] In his commentary on Al-sanusiyya, Imam al-Bajuri states that some scholars mentions that there are as many as eight different names for this science. However, he only mentions two; `ilm al-tawhid and `ilm al-kalam. Al-Bajuri, Hashiyya `ala matn al-sanusiyya. Al-Matba`a al-Milijiyya, Cairo; 1907; p. 8.
[iii] This is the definition used by Imam al-Iji, from the commentary of Al-Jurjani on his famous book Al-mawaqif, Beirut; Dar al-Kutub al-`Ilmiyya, v. 1, p. 40.
[iv] Al-Taftazani, Sharh al-Nasafiyya. Cairo: Dar al-Kutub al-Arabiyya, p. 10-11.
[v]Fakhry, Majid. “Philosophy and Theology: From the Eighth Century C.E. to the Present.” In The Oxford History of Islam, edited by John L. Esposito. New York: Oxford University Press, 1999, p. 277.
[vi] Chittick, William. Faith and Practice of Islam: Three Thirteenth Century Sufi Texts. New York: SUNY Press, 1992, p. 1.
[vii] Goldziher, Ignac, Introduction to Islamic Theology and Law, trans. Andras Hamori and Ruth Hamori, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981.
[viii] Marmara, Michael. “God and His creation: Two Medieval Islamic Views. In Introduction to Islamic Civilization edited by R. M. Savory. Cambridge University Press,1976, p. 47.
[ix] Craig, William Lane, The Kalam Cosmological Argument. London: Macmillan Press, 1979, p. 4.
[x] Wolfson, Harry Austryn. The Philosophy of Kalam. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1976, p. 1.
[xi] Fouda, Said. Buhuth fi `ilm al-kalam. Amman, Dar al-Razi, 2004; p. 24, 27.
[xii] For more on the interaction between Islamic theology and philosophy, see “Islamic Philosophy (falsafa)” by Hossein Ziai, in The Cambridge Companion to Classical Islamic Theology edited by Tim Winter. Cambridge, 2008.
[xiii] Books from the genre include Dhamm al-kalam wa ahluh by al-Harawi, and Sawn al-mantiq wa al-kalam `an fan al-mantiq wa al-kalam. The latter work, however, is mainly dedicated to criticizing the use of mantiq or Islamic logic, due to it is adoption of Aristotelian concepts, and it serving as an auxiliary science to the field of Islamic theological investigations.
[xiv] From Sunni theology, see the work of the famous later Indian scholar al-Shibli al-Nu`mani in this, and the important book Fi usul al-hiwar wa tajdid `ilm al-kalam (On the Foundations of Dialogue and the Revival of the Science of Kalam). In Shi`a tradition, the reformist contributions of Haydar Huballah under the very title`Ilm al-kalm al-jadid and works of Abd al-Jabar al-Rifa`I on this subject.
[xv] For more on tradition-guided rationality read Alasdair MacIntyre’s work, especially Whose Justice? Which Rationality? and Three Rival Versions of Moral Enquiry. In relation to the inherent philosophical dimension of Islamic theology and its relationship to linguistic, as naturally embodied in the name kalam, this following argument can be read from Whose Justice? Which Rationality?  “tradition-constituted and tradition-constitutive enquiry, what a particular doctrine claims, is always a matter of how precisely advanced, of the linguistic particularities of its formulation, of what in that time and place had to be denied, if it was to be asserted, of what was at the time presupposed by its assertions, and so on.” (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1988, p. 10).
[xvi] The first chapter of Imam al-Ghazali’s Ihya `ulum al-din certainly important in this regard. An important work in the English language that investigates this relation is Rosenthal, Franz. Knowledge Triumphant. The Concept of Knowledge in Medieval Islam. Leiden: Brill, 1970.
[xvii] Hallaq, Wael. Shari`ah, Theory, Practice and Transformations. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009, p. 543-544.
[xviii] Al-Shafi`i, Hasan. Al-madkhal ila dirasat `ilm al-kalam. Cairo: Maktabat Wahba, 1991, p. 25.

Feature image courtesy of Sohail Nakhooda https://snakhooda.smugmug.com/

Saturday, May 7, 2016

Literary gems: ​On being Egyptian and Ihab Hassan’s Out of Egypt ​

For many, in the past five years being Egyptian has become more of a psychological syndrome than an identity. The social suffering, the fantastically Orwellian news, the difficulties of the most mundane interactions, the continuous clamping down on freedoms and critical thought, and the rise of xenophobic and fascistic public sentiments are all alienating. Those who believed in change have become cultural orphans, cut off from true feelings of belonging. Two possibilities are present: a complete rejection or a psychological and emotional opportunity — an opening.
The thoughts of Ihab Hassan (1925-2015), an Egyptian academic little known in Egypt, offer an important vantage point for engaging with identity, Egyptianess and the quest of the self. Hassan, who is credited with coining the term "postmodernism" and had a successful career dedicated to postmodernist thought, literary criticism and cultural studies, passed away a few months ago in the United States. In his memoir, Out of Egypt: Scenes and Arguments of an Autobiography (1985), he portrays a one-way transatlantic escape from Egypt in 1946, after which he barely looked back.
When it came out, Out of Egypt attracted mixed reviews. It was criticized for implicitly accepting orientalist stereotypes and portraying too easy an integration process into American culture, which I believe is the case. It is a self study with a strong focus on Hassan’s unhappy years in Egypt (an experimental dialogue between him and an imaginary autobiographer is a case in point), and it stages itself as a deep reflection on why he had to flee. With eloquently constructed prose, he depicts his posh life here, with a father who worked as a governor, a modern mother, and family of pashas, landowners, and ministers. The underlying argument, however, is about the dawn of a new world.
Out of Egypt is a postmodern autobiography precisely because it deals with self-presentation in a way that is not wed to a culture or sense of belonging, and critically reorders the relations between wholes and parts, especially the question of which comes first, the self or the country. Hassan’s confused childhood, his inadequate Arabic due to an education in English and French, his disagreeable relatives, and his hard academic work lead to his resolution to escape and recreate his being. Out of Egypt voices Hassan’s unapologetic rejection of Egypt, and declares his disowning of his heritage. The question of whether his inner and physical journey was a “new birth or a false rebirth” starts off his quest for self-exploration on page one. 
The small book flows enjoyably, and at 128 pages one can read it in one or two sessions. It is written from an immigrant’s standpoint, and is interspersed with academic and critical thought, engaging with writers from Tolstoy to Ralph Emerson. It is especially valuable because of the quotations Hassan inserts, in addition to ideas about the act of writing an autobiography.
Out of Egypt is confidently devoid of the nostalgic, mournful and diasporic sentiments that are often ubiquitous in autobiographical writings by immigrants — like Edward Said’s renowned Out of Place (1999). There is neither a coming to terms with being eternally displaced nor a creation of the psychological and intellectual grounds on which to create a coherent self, as in Said’s memoir. Hassan presents an argument to write off or through a geographical and psychological past to move forward, thereby narrating an inner quest to flee the emotional exile and psychological imprisonment Egypt presented him with.
The talented Mr. Hassan we encounter in Out of Egypt is an individualistic, self-reliant social outsider focused on intellectual growth and loving of solitude. An adamant seeker of freedom for the sake of achieving autonomy, his future was dictated by hard work and exceptional intelligence. Despite being born to a well-to-do Cairene family and graduating with highest honors from Cairo University’s department of engineering, he could not foresee a future for himself in change-resistant, vibrancy-sapping Egypt.
“What then, had I really hoped to discover in America?” he writes. “It was not holiness: rather, scope, an openness of time, a more viable history. I also looked for some private space wherein to change, grow; for I had not liked what I foresaw of my life in Eternal Egypt.”
He started his exilic life by earning an MA in engineering, but soon afterwards decided to follow his heart instead, and studied for an MA and then PhD in literature. He then taught at Wesleyan University until 1970, when he moved to the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee until his retirement. Visiting professorships took him east and west, and his research and thought won him numerous accolades and fellowships. Unlike Said, whose professional career was interwoven with his activism for Arab and Palestinian causes, Hassan was silent about Egyptian causes.
Whether or not you endorse all of Hassan’s choices, particularly his rejection of Egypt, the depth of his self-reflection invokes useful identity-related questions.
“Egypt has remained the same” Hassan writes. “After a revolution [1952], a presidential assassination, four wars and a triple population growth within half a century, what has really changed there apart from some streets and squares renamed? What profound political or cultural reforms?”
Regardless of the "tyranny of hope" exercised by staunch optimists who see despair as heretical or selling out, who in their sincere attempt to reinvigorate withering hopes overemphasize any change as the coming of a new dawn, “Eternal Egypt” is here to stay; neither going to hell in a handbasket nor experiencing a new dawn, at least in the near future. It will continue to hurt and alienate us. Now, in a sycophantic atmosphere of saying a religious "yes" to government authoritarianism as nationalistic bravado peaks, we need alternative perspectives on what it means to be Egyptian and how to deal with psychological or physical exile. In the past few years, many of the Egyptians who can have decided to leave, due to either lack of hope or fear of prosecution. Extrapolating from the parallels Hassan draws between the Exodus of the Israelites from Pharaonic Egypt and his own escape, we could decide to cease wandering in the wilderness of attempts to belong, as psychological salvation seems to lie in plain sight for many of us.
As cultural orphans, domestically or abroad, we have the mental freedom and the force — even if it comes from being pushed away — that’s needed to recreate our identity between different selves, worlds and loyalties. With exilic sentiments shared by so many of us born since the 1970s, this collective condition offers a better chance for a "new birth", as Hassan calls it. It’s a chance to recreate ourselves without being individualistic, anchor ourselves without being tied to cultural and societal norms, be introspective without being self-opposed, and be caring without being patriarchal or despotic. It makes us well situated to question our spirituality, our gender, familial and social roles, even dietary and artistic preferences, and criticize the classist, nationalistic and historical biases that constitute uncritical parts of our makeup. According to Hassan’s process of self-knowledge, our new identity should focus on what we are not, but as well as being a site of resistance, it should be one of healing.
As he puts it, Hassan’s psychological and intellectual courage in confronting his pains and feelings was the reason behind his success: “Sensing, really believing, that I had nothing to lose, I found that I had accidentally won everything, almost everything,” he writes.
Acknowledging the complexity of the context surrounding people’s choices, there are others who found their selves and autonomy in moving in the opposite direction, engaging with the Egyptian condition head-on. Some have sacrificed their souls, like Sheikh Emad Effat, or freedom, like Alaa Abd El Fattah. Abd El Fattah, with all the inspiration he represents to many who believed in change — as expressed by Alia Mossallam—has also managed to dig his own personal archeology. We can benefit from this, especially when read side-by-side with Out of Egypt’s postmodern wisdomPiercing us with hislatest heavy piece from prison, Abd El Fattah expressed what’s painfully obvious for anyone aspiring to self-realization: “I have nothing to say: no hopes, no dreams, no fears, no warnings, no insights; nothing, absolutely nothing.”
In Out of Egypt, Hassan provides a compelling argument for the importance of solitude and its relation to freedom. “Does freedom compel us into solitude?” he wonders. Solitude is the antidote needed to embrace psychological exile and enjoy contradictory and shifting personal histories, for Hassan’s model capitalizes on the “fierce solitude of the nomad, moving across timeless sand.” This can be achieved without too much emphasis on the “r” word.