Introduction
[Corrected from the somewhat inaccurate account at http://members.tripod.com/~wzzz/GHAZALI.html]
Abu Hamid Ibn Muhammad Ibn Muhammad al-Tusi al-Shafi'i al-Ghazali [Ghazali in Persian, Al-Ghazali in Arabic) was born in 450/41
AH/1058 A.D. in Tus in Khorasan, (a region of Iran). His father died while he was still
very young but he had the opportunity of getting education in the prevalent curriculum at
Nishapur and Baghdad. Soon he acquired a high standard of scholarship in religion and
philosophy and was honoured by his appointment as a Professor at the Nizamiyah University
of Baghdad, which was recognised as one of the most reputed institutions of learning in
the golden era of Muslim history. After a few years, however, he gave up his academic
pursuits and worldly interests and became a wandering ascetic. This was a process (period)
of personal mystical transformation. Later, he resumed his teaching duties, but again left
these. An era of solitary life, devoted to contemplation and writing then ensued, which
led to the author- ship of a number of everlasting books. He died in 505 AH/1111 A.D. at
Tus.
Al-Ghazali's major contribution lies in religion, philosophy and Sufism. A number
of Muslim philosophers had been following and developing several viewpoints of Greek
philosophy, including the Neoplatonic philosophy, and had lead to conflict with several
Islamic teachings. On the other hand, the movement of sufism was assuming such excessive
proportions as to avoid observance of obligatory prayers and duties of Islam. Based on his
unquestionable scholarship and personal mystical experience, Ghazali sought to rectify
these trends, both in philosophy and sufism.
In philosophy, Ghazali upheld the approach of mathematics and exact sciences as
essentially correct. However, he adopted the techniques of Aristotelian logic and the
Neoplatonic procedures and employed these very tools to lay bare the flaws and lacunas of
the then prevalent Neoplatonic philosophy and to diminish the negative influences of
Aristotelianism and excessive rationalism. In contrast to some of the Muslim philosophers,
e.g., al-Farabi, he portrayed the inability of reason to comprehend the absolute and the
infinite. Reason could not transcend the finite and was limited to the observa- tion of
the relative. Also, several Muslim philosophers had held that the universe was finite in
space but infinite in time. Ghazali argued that an infinite time was related to an
infinite space.
In religion, particularly mysticism, he cleansed the approach of sufism of its
excesses and reestablished the authority of the orthodox (i.e. Sunni) religion. Yet, he
stressed the importance of genuine sufism, which he maintained was the path to attain the
absolute truth.
He was a prolific writer. His books include Tahafut al-Falasifa (The
Incoherence of the Philosophers), Ihya al-'Ulum al-Islamia (The Rivival of the
Religious Sciences), "The Beginning of Guidance and his Autobiography",
"Deliverance from Error". Some of his works were translated into Latin in the
Middle Ages, where he was known as Algazel and via the translation of a truncated work,
the Maqasid al-Falasifa [The Intentions of the Philosophers.]
Al-Ghazali's influence was deep and everlasting. He is one of the greatest
theologians of Islam and his influence penetrated Europe, influenced Jewish and Christian
Scholasticism, and several of his arguments seem to have been adopted by Thomas
Aquinas in order to similarly reestablish the authority of orthodox Christian religion in
the West.
The Deliverance from Error
The Munkidh min al-Dalal (Deliverance from Error), is a sort of
intellectual autobiography. A more modern translation can be found in W. Montgomery Watt, The
Faith and Practice of Al-Ghazali, (London: 1951).
The following, an excerpt from the Encyclopedia of Philosophy (New York:
Macmillan, 1967), explains the significance of the work:
At the age of 36, Ghazali experienced a profound crisis, provoked by the
problem of intellectual certitude. He abandoned his professorship and his position as
rector of Nizamiya University of Baghdad. During a period of ten years, clothed in the
characteristic wool garment of the Sufis and completely absorbed in spiritual practices,
he made solitary pilgrimages throughout the Muslim world, to Syria, Egypt, Mecca, and
Medina. What he conveyed in his doctrines cannot be separated from this pathetic
experience. He solved the problem of knowledge and certitude by affirming a degree of
comprehension that left the heart no room for doubt, a comprehension that is the essential
apprehension of things. The thinking soul becomes the focus of the universal Soul's
irradiations, the mirror of intelligible forms received from the universal Soul. This
theme dominates certain characteristic short treatises (the Monqidh or
"Preservative From Error," [this text], the Risalat alLadoniya, etc.)
as well as the great synthesis entitled Ilya Ulum ad-Din ("Revival of the Religious
Sciences"). But this theme had already been treated, undoubtedly without his
knowledge, by the Imams of Shi'ism, and it does not differ essentially from the Ishraq of
Sohrawardi. This very theme led Sohrawardi! to advance philosophy on a new basis rather
than destroy the efforts of philosophers as such.
It is principally this aspect of Ghazali's work, developed in his Tahafut
al-Falasifa ("Autodestruction of the Philosophers") that Westerners have
been inclined to emphasize. An attempt has even been made to read into it a more incisive
and decisive critique or metaphysics than that of Kant. In fact, Ghazali strove vehemently
to destroy the demonstrative range that philosophers, Avicennians as well as others,
accorded to their arguments regarding the eternity of the world, the procession of the
Intelligences, the existence of purely spiritual substances, and the idea of spiritual
resurrection. In general Ghazal! strove to refute the idea of any causality, of any
necessary connection. According to him all thatean be experimentally affirmed is, for
example, that combustion of cotton occurs at the moment of contact with fire; it cannot be
shown that combustion takes place because of the contact between cotton and fire. Nor can
it be shown that there is any cause whatsoever. From this bursts forth the paradox of a
thinker who professes the inability of reason to attain certitude while maintaining the
certitude of destroying, with massive doses of rational dialectic, the certitudes of the
philosophers. Averroe s clearly discerned this self-contradiction and replied to it with
his celebrated Tahafut al-Tahafut ("Autodestruction of the
Autodestruction").
Quoth the Imam Ghazali:
Glory be to God, whose praise should precede every writing and every speech! May the
blessings of God rest on Mohammed, his Prophet and his Apostle, on his family and
companions, by whose guidance error is escaped!
You have asked me, O brother in the faith, to expound the aim and the mysteries of
religious sciences, the boundaries and depths of theological doctrines. You wish to know
my experiences while disentangling truth lost in the medley of sects and divergencies of
thought, and how I have dared to climb from the low levels of traditional belief to the
topmost summit of assurance. You desire to learn what I have borrowed, first of all from
scholastic theology; and secondly from the method of the Ta'limites, who, in seeking
truth, rest upon the authority of a leader; and why, thirdly, I have been led to reject
philosophic systems; and finally, what I have accepted of the doctrine of the Sufis, and
the sum total of truth which I have gathered in studying every variety of opinion. You ask
me why, after resigning at Baghdad a teaching post which attracted a number of hearers, I
have, long afterward, accepted a similar one at Nishapur. Convinced as I am of the
sincerity which prompts your inquiries, I proceed to answer them, invoking the help and
protection of God.
Know then, my brothers (may God direct you in the right way), that the diversity in
beliefs and religions, and the variety of doctrines and sects which divide men, are like a
deep ocean strewn with shipwrecks, from which very few escape safe and sound. Each sect,
it is true, believes itself in possession of the truth and of salvation, "each
party," as the Qur'an saith, "rejoices in its own creed"; but as the chief
of the apostles, whose word is always truthful, has told us, "My people will be
divided into more than seventy sects, of whom only one will be saved." This
prediction, like all others of the Prophet, must be fulfilled.
From the period of adolescence, that is to say, previous to reaching my twentieth year
to the present time when I have passed my fiftieth, I have ventured into this vast ocean;
I have fearlessly sounded its depths, and like a resolute diver, I have penetrated its
darkness and dared its dangers and abysses. I have interrogated the beliefs of each sect
and scrutinized the mysteries of each doctrine, in order to disentangle truth from error
and orthodoxy from heresy. I have never met one who maintained the hidden meaning of the
Qur'an without investigating the nature of his belief. nor a partisan of its exterior
sense without inquiring into the results of his doctrine. There is no philosopher whose
system I have not fathomed, nor theologian the intricacies of whose doctrine I have not
followed out.
Sufism has no secrets into which I have not penetrated; the devout adorer of Deity has
revealed to me the aim of his austerities; the atheist has not been able to conceal from
me the real reason of his unbelief. The thirst for knowledge was innate in me from an
early age; it was like a second nature implanted by God, without any will on my part. No
sooner had I emerged from boyhood than I had already broken the fetters of tradition and
freed myself from hereditary beliefs.
Having noticed how easily the children of Christians become Christians, and the
children of Muslims embrace Islam, and remembering also the traditional saying ascribed to
the Prophet, "Every child has in him the germ of Islam, then his parents make him
Jew, Christian, or Zarathustrian," I was moved by a keen desire to learn what was
this innate disposition in the child, the nature of the accidental beliefs imposed on him
by the authority of his parents and his masters, and finally the unreasoned convictions
which he derives from their instructions.
Struck with the contradictions which I encountered in endeavoring to disentangle the
truth and falsehood of these opinions, I was led to make the following reflection:
"The search after truth being the aim which I propose to myself, I ought in the first
place to ascertain what are the bases of certitude." In the next place I recognized
that certitude is the clear and complete knowledge of things, such knowledge as leaves no
room for doubt nor possibility of error and conjecture, so that there remains no room in
the mind for error to find an entrance. In such a case it is necessary that the mind,
fortified against all possibility of going astray, should embrace such a strong conviction
that, if, for example, any one possessing the power of changing a stone into gold, or a
stick into a serpent, should seek to shake the bases of this certitude, it would remain
firm and immovable. Suppose, for instance, a man should come and say to me, who am firmly
convinced that ten is more than three, "No; on the contrary, three is more than ten,
and, to prove it, I change this rod into a serpent," and supposing that he actually
did so, I should remain none the less convinced of the falsity of his assertion, and
although his miracle might arouse my astonishment, it would not instil any doubt into my
belief.
I then understood that all forms of knowledge which do not unite these conditions
(imperviousness to doubt, etc.) do not deserve any confidence, because they are not beyond
the reach of doubt, and what is not impregnable to doubt can not constitute certitude.
The Subterfuges of the Sophists
I then examined what knowledge I possessed, and discovered that in none of it, with the
exception of sense-perceptions and necessary principles, did I enjoy that degree of
certitude which I have just described. I then sadly reflected as follows: "We can not
hope to find truth except in matters which carry their evidence in themselves---that is to
say, in sense-perceptions and necessary principles; we
must therefore establish these on a firm basis. Is my absolute confidence in
sense-perceptions and on the infallibility of necessary principles analogous to the
confidence which I formerly possessed in matters believed on the authority of others? Is
it only analogous to the reliance most people place on their organs of vision, or is it
rigorously true without admixture of illusion or doubt?"
I then set myself earnestly to examine the notions we derive from the evidence of the
senses and from sight in order to see if they could be called in question. The result of a
careful examination was that my confidence in them was shaken. Our sight, for instance,
perhaps the best practiced of all our senses, observes a shadow, and finding it apparently
stationary pronounces it devoid of movement. Observation and experience, however, show
subsequently that a shadow moves not suddenly, it is true, but gradually and
imperceptibly, so that it is never really motionless.
Again, the eye sees a star and believes it as large as a piece of gold, but
mathematical calculations prove, on the contrary, that it is larger than the earth. These
notions, and all others which the senses declare true, are subsequently contradicted and
convicted of falsity in an irrefragable manner by the verdict of reason.
Then I reflected in myself: "Since I can not trust to the evidence of my senses, I
must rely only on intellectual notions based on fundamental principles, such as the
following axioms: 'Ten is more than three. Affirmation and negation can not coexist
together. A thing can not both be created and also existent from eternity, living and
annihilated simultaneously, at once necessary and impossible.'" To this the notions I
derived from my senses made the following objections: "Who can guarantee you that you
can trust to the evidence of reason more than to that of the senses? You believed in our
testimony till it was contradicted by the verdict of reason, otherwise you would have
continued to believe it to this day. Well, perhaps, there is above reason another judge
who, if he appeared, would convict reason of falsehood, just as reason has confuted us.
And if such a third arbiter is not yet apparent, it does not follow that he does not
exist."
To this argument I remained some time without reply; a reflection drawn from the
phenomena of sleep deepened my doubt. "Do you not see," I reflected, "that
while asleep you assume your dreams to be indisputably real? Once awake, you recognize
them for what they are---baseless chimeras. Who can assure you, then, of the reliability
of notions which, when awake, you derive from the senses and from reason? In relation to
your present state they may be real; but it is possible also that you may enter upon
another state of being which will bear the same relation to your present state as this
does to your condition when asleep. In that new sphere you will recognize that the
conclusions of reason are only chimeras."
This possible condition is perhaps, that which the Sufis call "ecstasy" (hal),
that is to say, according to them, a state in which, absorbed in themselves and in the
suspension of sense-perceptions, they have visions beyond the reach of intellect. Perhaps
also Death is that state, according to that saying of the prince of prophets: "Men
are asleep; when they die, they wake." Our present life in relation to the future is
perhaps only a dream, and man, once dead, will see things in direct opposition to those
now before his eyes; he will then understand that word of the Qur'an, "To-day we have
removed the veil from thine eyes and thy sight is keen."
Such thoughts as these threatened to shake my reason, and I sought to find an escape
from them. But how? In order to disentangle the knot of this difficulty, a proof was
necessary. Now a proof must be based on primary assumptions, and it was precisely these of
which I was in doubt. This unhappy state lasted about two months, during which I was, not,
it is true, explicitly or by profession, but morally and essentially, a thorough-going
skeptic.
God at last deigned to heal me of this mental malady; my mind recovered sanity and
equilibrium, the primary assumptions of reason recovered with me all their stringency and
force. I owed my deliverance, not to a concatenation of proofs and arguments, but to the
light which God caused to penetrate into my heart---the light which illuminates the
threshold of all knowledge. To suppose that certitude can be only based upon formal
arguments is to limit the boundless mercy of God. Some one asked the Prophet the
explanation of this passage in the Divine Book: "God opens to Islam the heart of him
whom he chooses to direct." "That is spoken," replied the Prophet, "of
the light which God sheds in the heart." "And how can man recognize that
light?" he was asked. "By his detachment from this world of illusion and by a
secret drawing toward the eternal world," the Prophet replied.
On another occasion he said: "God has created his creatures in darkness, and then
has shed upon them his light." It is by the help of this light that the search for
truth must be carried on. As by his mercy this light descends from time to time among men,
we must ceaselessly be on the watch for it. This is also corroborated by another saying of
the Apostle: "God sends upon you, at certain times, breathings of his grace; be
prepared for them."
My object in this account is to make others understand with what earnestness we should
search for truth, since it leads to results we never dreamed of. Primary assumptions have
not got to be sought for, since they are always present to our minds; if we engage in such
a search, we only find them persistently elude our grasp. But those who push their
investigation beyond ordinary limits are safe from the suspicion of negligence in pursuing
what is within their reach.
The Different Kinds of Seekers After Truth
When God in the abundance of his mercy had healed me of this malady, I ascertained that
those who are engaged in the search for truth may be divided into three groups:
I. Scholastic theologians, who profess to follow theory and speculation.
II. The philosophers, who profess to rely upon formal logic.
III. The Sufis, who call themselves the elect of God and possessors of intuition and
knowledge of the truth by means of ecstasy.
"The truth," I said to myself, "must be found among these three classes
of men who devote themselves to the search for it. If it escapes them, one must give up
all hope of attaining it. Having once surrendered blind belief, it is impossible to return
to it, for the essence of such belief is to be unconscious of itself. As soon as this
unconsciousness ceases it is shattered like a glass whose fragments can not be again
reunited except by being cast again into the furnace and refashioned." Determined to
follow these paths and to search out these systems to the bottom, I proceeded with my
investigations in the following order: Scholastic theology; philosophical systems; and,
finally Sufism.
The Aim of Scholastic Theology and Its Results
Commencing with theological science, I carefully studied and meditated upon it. I read
the writings of the authorities in this department and myself composed several treatises.
I recognized that this science, while sufficing its own requirements, could not assist me
in arriving at the desired goal. In short, its object is to preserve the purity of
orthodox beliefs from all heretical innovation. God, by means of his apostle, has revealed
to his creatures a belief which is true as regards their temporal and eternal interests;
the chief articles of it are laid down in the Qur'an and in the traditions. Subsequently,
Satan suggested to innovators principles contrary to those of orthodoxy; they listened
greedily to his suggestions, and the purity of the faith was menaced. God then raised up a
school of theologians and inspired them with the desire to defend orthodoxy by means of a
system of proofs adapted to unveil the devices of the heretics and to foil the attacks
which they made on the doctrines established by tradition.
Such is the origin of scholastic theology. Many of its adepts, worthy of their high
calling, valiantly defended the orthodox faith by proving the reality of prophecy and the
falsity of heretical innovations. But, in order to do so, they had to rely upon a certain
number of premises, which they accepted in common with their adversaries, and which
authority and universal consent or simply the Qur'an and the traditions obliged them to
accept. Their principal effort was to expose the self-contradictions of their opponents
and to confute them by means of the premises which they had professed to accept. Now a
method of argumentation like this has little value for one who only admits self-evident
truths. Scholastic theology could not consequently satisfy me nor heal the malady from
which I suffered.
It is true that in its later development theology was not content to defend dogma; it
betook itself to the study of first principles, of substances, accidents and the laws
which govern them; but through want of a thoroughly scientific basis, it could not advance
far in its researches, nor succeed in dispelling entirely the over-hanging obscurity which
springs from diversities of belief.
I do not, however, deny that it has had a more satisfactory result for others; on the
contrary, I admit that it has; but it is by introducing the principle of authority in
matters which are not self-evident. Moreover, my object is to explain my own mental
attitude and not to dispute with those who have found healing for themselves. Remedies
vary according to the nature of the disease; those which benefit some may injure others.
Philosophy. ---How far it is open to censure or not--- On what points its adherents
may be considered believers or unbelievers, orthodox or heretical---What they have
borrowed from the true doctrine to render their chimerical theories acceptable---Why the
minds of men swerve from the truth---What criteria are available wherewith to separate the
pure gold from the alloy in their systems.
I proceeded from the study of scholastic theology to that of philosophy. It was plain
to me that, in order to discover where the professors of any branch of knowledge have
erred, one must make a profound study of that science; must equal, nay surpass, those who
know most of it, so as to penetrate into secrets of it unknown to them. Only by this
method can they be completely answered, and of this method I can find no trace in the
theologians of Islam. In theological writings devoted to the refutation of philosophy I
have only found a tangled mass of phrases full of contradictions and mistakes, and
incapable of deceiving, I will not say a critical mind, but even the common crowd.
Convinced that to dream of refuting a doctrine before having thoroughly comprehended it
was like shooting at an object in the dark, I devoted myself zealously to the study of
philosophy; but in books only and without the aid of a teacher. I gave up to this work all
the leisure remaining from teaching and from composing works on law. There were then
attending my lectures three hundred of the students of Baghdad. With the help of God,
these studies, carried on in secret, so to speak, put me in a condition to thoroughly
comprehend philosophical systems within a space of two years. I then spent about a year in
meditating on these systems after having thoroughly understood them. I turned them over
and over in my mind 'till they were thoroughly clear of all obscurity. In this manner I
acquired a complete knowledge of all their subterfuges and subtleties, of what was truth
and what was illusion in them.
I now proceed to give a résumé of these doctrines. I ascertained that they were
divided into different varieties, and that their adherents might be ranged under diverse
heads. All, in spite of their diversity, are marked with the stamp of infidelity and
irreligion, although there is a considerable difference between the ancient and modern,
between the first and last of these philosophers, according as they have missed or
approximated to the truth in a greater or less degree.
Concerning the Philosophical Sects and the Stigma of Infidelity Which Attaches to Them
All
The philosophical systems, in spite of their number and variety, may be reduced to
three: (1) the Materialists; (2) the Naturalists; (3) the Theists.
(1) The Materialists. They reject an intelligent and omnipotent Creator and
disposer of the universe. In their view the world exists from all eternity and had no
author. The animal comes from semen and semen from the animal; so it had always been and
will always be; those who maintain this doctrine are atheists.
(2) The Naturalists. These devote themselves to the study of nature and of the
marvelous phenomena of the animal and vegetable world. Having carefully analyzed animal
organs with the help of anatomy, struck with the wonders of God's work and with the wisdom
therein revealed, they are forced to admit the existence of a wise Creator who knows the
end and purpose of everything. And certainly no one can study anatomy and the wonderful
mechanism of living things without being obliged to confess the profound wisdom of him who
has framed the bodies of animals and especially of man. But carried away by their natural
researches they believed that the existence of a being absolutely depended upon the proper
equilibrium of its organism. According to them, as the latter perishes and is destroyed,
so is the thinking faculty which is bound up with it; and as they assert that the
restoration of a thing once destroyed to existence is unthinkable, they deny the
immortality of the soul. Consequently they deny heaven, hell, resurrection, and judgment.
Acknowledging neither a recompense for good deeds nor a punishment for evil ones, they
fling off all authority and plunge into sensual pleasures with the avidity of brutes.
These also ought to be called atheists, for the true faith depends not only on the
acknowledgment of God, but of his Apostle and of the day of judgment. And although they
acknowledge God and his attributes, they deny a judgment to come.
(3) The Theists. Among them should be reckoned Socrates, who was the teacher of
Plato as Plato was of Aristotle. This latter drew up for his disciples the rules of logic,
organized the sciences, elucidated what was formerly obscure, and expounded what had not
been understood. This school refuted the systems of the two others, i.e., the
Materialists and Naturalists; but in exposing their mistaken and perverse beliefs, they
made use of arguments which they should not. "God suffices to protect the faithful in
war" (Qur'an, xxxiii. 25).
Aristotle also contended with success against the theories of Plato, Socrates, and the
theists who had preceded him, and separated himself entirely from them; but he could not
eliminate from his doctrine the stains of infidelity and heresy which disfigure the
teaching of his predecessors. We should therefore consider them all as unbelievers, as
well as the so-called Muslim philosophers, such as Ibn Sina [Avicenna] and Al Farabi, who
have adopted their systems.
Let us, however, acknowledge that among Muslim philosophers none has better interpreted
the doctrine of Aristotle than the latter. What others have handed down as his teaching is
full of error, confusion, and obscurity adapted to disconcert the reader. The
unintelligible can neither be accepted nor rejected. The philosophy of Aristotle, all
serious knowledge of which we owe to the translation of these two learned men, may be
divided into three portions: the first contains matter justly chargeable with impiety, the
second is tainted with heresy, and the third we are obliged to reject absolutely. We
proceed to details:
Divisions of the Philosophic Sciences
These sciences, in relation to the aim we have set before us, may be divided into six
sections:
(1) Mathematics; (2) Logic; (3) Physics; (4) Metaphysics; (5) Politics; (6) Moral
Philosophy.
(1) Mathematics. Mathematics comprises the knowledge of calculation, geometry,
and cosmography: it has no connection with the religious sciences, and proves nothing for
or against religion; it rests on a foundation of proofs which, once known and understood,
can not be refuted. Mathematics tend, however, to produce two bad results. The first is
this: Whoever studies this science admires the subtlety and clearness of its proofs. His
confidence in philosophy increases, and he thinks that all its departments are capable of
the same clearness and solidity of proof as mathematics. But when he hears people speak of
the unbelief and impiety of mathematicians, of their professed disregard for the Divine
law, which is notorious, it is true that, out of regard for authority, he echoes these
accusations, but he says to himself at the same time that, if there was truth in religion,
it would not have escaped those who have displayed so much keenness of intellect in the
study of mathematics.
Next, when he becomes aware of the unbelief and rejection of religion on the part of
these learned men, he concludes that to reject religion is reasonable. How many of such
men gone astray I have met whose sole argument was that just mentioned. And supposing one
puts to them the following objection: "It does not follow that a man who excels in
one branch of knowledge excels in all others, nor that he should be equally versed in
jurisprudence, theology, and medicine. It is possible to be entirely ignorant of
metaphysics, and yet to be an excellent grammarian. There are past masters in every
science who are entirely ignorant of other branches of knowledge. The arguments of the
ancient philosophers are rigidly demonstrative in mathematics and only conjectural in
religious questions. In order to ascertain this one must proceed to a thorough examination
of the matter." Supposing, I say, one makes the above objection to these "apes
of unbelief," they find it distasteful. Falling a prey to their passions, to a
besotted vanity, and the wish to pass for learned men, they persist in maintaining the
preeminence of mathematicians in all branches of knowledge. This is a serious evil, and
for this reason those who study mathematics should be checked from going too far in their
researches. For though far removed as it may be from the things of religion, this study,
serving as it does as an introduction to the philosophic systems, casts over religion its
malign influence. It is rarely that a man devotes himself to it without robbing himself of
his faith and casting off the restraints of religion.
The second evil comes from the sincere but ignorant Muslims who thinks the best way to
defend religion is by rejecting all the exact sciences. Accusing their professors of being
astray, he rejects their theories of the eclipses of the sun and moon, and condemns them
in the name of religion. These accusations are carried far and wide, they reach the ears
of the philosopher who knows that these theories rest on infallible proofs; far from
losing confidence in them, he believes, on the contrary, that Islam has ignorance and the
denial of scientific proofs for its basis, and his devotion to philosophy increases with
his hatred to religion.
It is therefore a great injury to religion to suppose that the defense of Islam
involves the condemnation of the exact sciences. The religious law contains nothing which
approves them or condemns them, and in their turn they make no attack on religion. The
words of the Prophet, "The sun and the moon are two signs of the power of God; they
are not eclipsed for the birth or the death of any one; when you see these signs take
refuge in prayer and invoke the name of God"---these words, I say, do not in any way
condemn the astronomical calculations which define the orbits of these two bodies, their
conjunction and opposition according to particular laws. But as for the so-called
tradition, "When God reveals himself in anything, he abases himself thereto," it
is unauthentic, and not found in any trustworthy collection of the traditions. Such is the
bearing and the possible danger of mathematics.
(2) Logic. This science, in the same manner, contains nothing for or against
religion. Its object is the study of different kinds of proofs and syllogisms, the
conditions which should hold between the premises of a proposition, the way to combine
them, the rules of a good definition, and the art of formulating it. For knowledge
consists of conceptions which spring from a definition or of convictions which arise from
proofs. There is therefore nothing censurable in this science, and it is laid under
contribution by theologians as well as by philosophers. The only difference is that the
latter use a particular set of technical formulas and that they push their divisions and
subdivisions further.
It may be asked, What, then, this has to do with the grave questions of religion, and
on what ground opposition should be offered to the methods of logic? The objector, it will
be said, can only inspire the logician with an unfavorable opinion of the intelligence and
faith of his adversary, since the latter's faith seems to be based upon such objections.
But, it must be admitted, logic is liable to abuse. Logicians demand in reasoning certain
conditions which lead to absolute certainty, but when they touch on religious questions
they can no longer postulate these conditions, and ought therefore to relax their habitual
rigor. It happens, accordingly, that a student who is enamored of the evidential methods
of logic, hearing his teachers accused of irreligion, believes that this irreligion
reposes on proofs as strong as those of logic, and immediately, without attempting the
study of metaphysics, shares their mistake. This is a serious disadvantage arising from
the study of logic.
(3) Physics. The object of this science is the study of the bodies which compose
the universe: the sky and the stars, and, here below, simple elements such as air, earth,
water, fire, and compound bodies-animals, plants, and minerals the reasons of their
changes, developments, and intermixture. By the nature of its researches it is closely
connected with the study of medicine, the object of which is the human body, its principal
and secondary organs, and the law which governs their changes. Religion having no fault to
find with medical science, can not justly do so with physical, except on some special
matters which we have mentioned in the work entitled, The Destruction of the
Philosophers. Besides these primary questions, there are some subordinate ones
depending on them, on which physical science is open to objection. But all physical
science rests, as we believe, on the following principle: Nature is entirely subject to
God; incapable of acting by itself, it is an instrument in the hand of the Creator; sun,
moon, stars, and elements are subject to God and can produce nothing of themselves. In a
word, nothing in nature can act spontaneously and apart from God.
(4) Metaphysics. This is the fruitful breeding-ground of the errors of
philosophers. Here they can no longer satisfy the laws of rigorous argumentation such as
logic demands, and this is what explains the disputes which arise between them in the
study of metaphysics. The system most closely akin to the system of the Muhammadan doctors
is that of Aristotle as expounded to us by Farabi and Avicenna. The sum total of their
errors can be reduced to twenty propositions: three of them are irreligious, and the other
seventeen heretical. It was in order to combat their system that we wrote the work, Destruction
of the Philosophers. The three propositions in which they are opposed to all the
doctrines of Islam are the following: (a) Bodies do not rise again; spirits alone will be
rewarded or punished; future punishments will be therefore spiritual and not physical.
They are right in admitting spiritual punishments, for there will be such; but they are
wrong in rejecting physical punishments, and contradicting in this manner the assertions
of the Divine Law. (b) "God takes cognizance of universals, not of specials."
This is manifestly irreligious. The Qur'an asserts truly, "Not an atom's weight in
heaven or earth can escape his knowledge" (Qur'an x. 62) . (c) They maintain that the
universe exists from all eternity and will never end. None of these propositions has ever
been admitted by Muslims. Besides this, they deny that God has attributes, and maintain
that he knows by his essence only and not by means of any attribute accessory to his
essence. In this point they approach the doctrine of the Mutazilites, doctrines which we
are not obliged to condemn as irreligious. On the contrary, in our work entitled,
"Criteria of the Differences Which Divide Islam from Atheism," we have proved
the wrongness of those who accuse of irreligion everything which is opposed to their way
of looking at things.
(5) Political Science. The professors of this confine themselves to drawing up
the rules which regulate temporal matters and the royal power. They have borrowed their
theories on this point from the books which God has revealed to his prophets and from the
sentences of ancient sages, gathered by tradition.
(6) Moral Philosophy. The professors of this occupy themselves with defining the
attributes and qualities of the soul, grouping them according to genus and species, and
pointing out the way to moderate and control them. They have borrowed this system from the
Sufis. These devout men, who are always engaged in invoking the name of God, in combating
concupiscence and following the way of God by renouncing the pleasures of this world, have
received, while in a state of ecstasy, revelations regarding the qualities of the soul,
its defects and its evil inclinations. These revelations they have published, and the
philosophers making use of them have introduced them into their own systems in order to
embellish and give currency to their falsehoods. In the times of the philosophers, as at
every other period, there existed some of these fervent mystics. God does not deprive this
world of them, for they are its sustainers, and they draw down to it the blessings of
heaven according to the tradition: "It is by them that you obtain rain; it is by them
that you receive your subsistence." Such were "the Companions of the Cave,"
who lived in ancient times, as related by the Qur'an (xviii.). Now this mixture of moral
and philosophic doctrine with the words of the Prophet and those of the Sufis gives rise
to two dangers, one for the upholder of those doctrines, the other for their opponent.
The danger for their opponent is serious. A narrow-minded man, finding in their
writings moral philosophy mixed with unsupported theories, believes that he ought to
entirely reject them and to condemn those who profess them. Having only heard them from
their mouth he does not hesitate in his ignorance to declare them false because those who
teach them are in error. It is as if some one was to reject the profession of faith made
by Christians, "There is only one God and Jesus is his prophet," simply because
it proceeds from Christians and without inquiring whether it is the profession of this
creed or the denial of Mohammed's prophetic mission which makes Christians infidels. Now,
if they are only infidels because of their rejection of our Prophet, we are not entitled
to reject those of their doctrines which do not wear the stamp of infidelity. In a word,
truth does not cease to be true because it is found among them. Such, however, is the
tendency of weak minds: they judge the truth according to its professors instead of
judging its professors by the standard of the truth. But a liberal spirit will take as its
guide this maxim of the prince of believers, Ali the son of Abu Talib: "Do not seek
for the truth by means of men; find first the truth and then you will recognize those who
follow it." This is the procedure followed by a wise man. Once in possession of the
truth he examines the basis of various doctrines which come before him, and when he has
found them true, he accepts them without troubling himself whether the person who teaches
them is sincere or a deceiver. Much rather, remembering how gold is buried in the bowels
of the earth, he endeavors to disengage the truth from the mass of errors in which it is
engulfed. The skilled coin-assayer plunges without hesitation his hand into the purse of
the coiner of false money, and relying on experience, separates good coins from bad. It is
the ignorant rustic, and not the experienced assayer, who will ask why we should have
anything to do with a false coiner. The unskilled swimmer must be kept away from the
seashore, not the expert in diving. The child, not the charmer, must be forbidden to
handle serpents.
As a matter of fact, men have such a good opinion of themselves, of their mental
superiority and intellectual depth; they believe themselves so skilled in discerning the
true from the false, the path of safety from those of error, that they should be forbidden
as much as possible the perusal of philosophic writings, for though they sometimes escape
the danger just pointed out, they can not avoid that which we are about to indicate.
Some of the maxims found in my works regarding the mysteries of religion have met with
objectors of an inferior rank in science, whose intellectual penetration is insufficient
to fathom such depths. They assert that these maxims are borrowed from the ancient
philosophers, whereas the truth is that they are the fruit of my own meditations, but as
the proverb says, "Sandal follows the impress of sandal." Some of them are found
in our books of religious law, but the greater part are derived from the writings of the
Sufis.
But even if they were borrowed exclusively from the doctrines of the philosophers, is
it right to reject an opinion when it is reasonable in itself, supported by solid proofs,
and contradicting neither the Qur'an nor the traditions? If we adopt this method and
reject every truth which has chanced to have been proclaimed by an impostor, how many
truths we should have to reject! How many verses of the Qur'an and traditions of the
prophets and Sufi discourses and maxims of sages we must close our ears to because the
author of the "Treatise of the Brothers of Purity" has inserted them in his
writings in order to further his cause, and in order to lead minds gradually astray in the
paths of error! The consequence of this procedure would be that impostors would snatch
truths out of our hands in order to embellish their own works. The wise man, at least,
should not make common cause with the bigot blinded by ignorance.
Honey does not become impure because it may happen to have been placed in the glass
which the surgeon uses for cupping purposes. The impurity of blood is due, not to its
contact with this glass, but to a peculiarity inherent in its own nature; this
peculiarity, not existing in honey, cannot be communicated to it by its being placed in
the cupping-glass; it is therefore wrong to regard it as impure. Such is, however, the
whimsical way of looking at things found in nearly all men. Every word proceeding from an
authority which they approve is accepted by them, even were it false; every word
proceeding from one whom they suspect is rejected, even were it true. In every case they
judge of the truth according to its professors and not of men according to the truth which
they profess, a ne plus ultra of error. Such is the peril in which philosophy
involves its opponents.
The second danger threatens those who accept the opinions of the philosophers. When,
for instance, we read the "Treatise of the Brothers of Purity," and other works
of the same kind, we find in them sentences spoken by the Prophet and quotations from the
Sufis. We approve these works; we give them our confidence; and we finish by accepting the
errors which they contain, because of the good opinion of them with which they have
inspired us at the outset. Thus, by insensible degrees, we are led astray. In view of this
danger the reading of philosophic writings so full of vain and delusive utopias should be
forbidden, just as the slippery banks of a river are forbidden to one who knows not how to
swim. The perusal of these false teachings must be prevented just as one prevents children
from touching serpents. A snake-charmer himself will abstain from touching snakes in the
presence of his young child, because he knows that the child, believing himself as clever
as his father, will not fail to imitate him; and in order to lend more weight to his
prohibition the charmer will not touch a serpent under the eyes of his son.
Such should be the conduct of a learned man who is also wise. But the snake-charmer,
after having taken the serpent and separated the venom from the
antidote, having put the latter on one side and destroyed the venom, ought not to withhold
the antidote from those who need it. In the same way the skilled coin-assayer, after
having put his hand in the bag of the false coiner, taken out the good coins and thrown
away the bad ones, ought not to refuse the good to those who need and ask for it. Such
should be the conduct of the learned man. If the patient feels a certain dislike of the
antidote because he knows that it is taken from a snake whose body is the receptacle of
poison, he should be disabused of this fallacy.
If a beggar hesitates to take a piece of gold which he knows comes from the purse of a
false coiner, he should be told that his hesitation is a pure mistake which would deprive
him of the advantage which he seeks. It should be proved to him that the contact of the
good coins with the bad does not injure the former and does not improve the latter. In the
same way the contact of truth with falsehood does not change truth into falsehood, any
more than it changes falsehood into truth. Thus much, then, we have to say regarding the
inconveniences and dangers which spring from the study of philosophy.
Sufism
When I had finished my examination of these doctrines I applied myself to the study of
Sufism. I saw that in order to understand it thoroughly one must combine theory with
practice. The aim which the Sufis set before them is as follows: To free the soul from the
tyrannical yoke of the passions, to deliver it from its wrong inclinations and evil
instincts, in order that in the purified heart there should only remain room for God and
for the invocation of his holy name.
As it was more easy to learn their doctrine than to practice it, I studied first of all
those of their books which contain it: "The Nourishment of Hearts," by Abu Talib
of Mecca, the works of Hareth el Muhasibi, and the fragments which still remain of Junaid,
Shibli, Abu Yezid Bustami, and other leaders (whose souls may God sanctify). I acquired a
thorough knowledge of their researches, and I learned all that was possible to learn of
their methods by study and oral teaching. It became clear to me that the last stage could
not be reached by mere instruction, but only by transport, ecstasy, and the transformation
of the moral being.
To define health and satiety, to penetrate their causes and conditions, is quite
another thing from being well and satisfied. To define drunkenness, to know that it is
caused by vapors which rise from the stomach and cloud the seat of intelligence, is quite
a different thing to being drunk. The drunken man has no idea of the nature of
drunkenness, just because he is drunk and not in a condition to understand anything, while
the doctor, not being under the influence of drunkenness knows its character and laws. Or
if the doctor fall ill, he has a theoretical knowledge of the health of which he is
deprived.
In the same way there is a considerable difference between knowing renouncement,
comprehending its conditions and causes, and practicing renouncement and detachment from
the things of this world. I saw that Sufism consists in experiences rather than in
definitions, and that what I was lacking belonged to the domain, not of instruction, but
of ecstasy and initiation.
The researches to which I had devoted myself, the path which I had traversed in
studying religious and speculative branches of knowledge, had given me a firm faith in
three things---God, Inspiration, and the Last Judgment. These three fundamental articles
of belief were confirmed in me, not merely by definite arguments, but by a chain of
causes, circumstances, and proofs which it is impossible to recount. I saw that one can
only hope for salvation by devotion and the conquest of one's passions, a procedure which
presupposes renouncement and detachment from this world of falsehood in order to turn
toward eternity and meditation on God. Finally, I saw that the only condition of success
was to sacrifice honors and riches and to sever the ties and attachments of worldly life.
Coming seriously to consider my state, I found myself bound down on all sides by these
trammels. Examining my actions, the most fair-seeming of which were my lecturing and
professorial occupations, I found to my surprise that I was engrossed in several studies
of little value, and profitless as regards my salvation. I probed the motives of my
teaching and found that, in place of being sincerely consecrated to God, it was only
actuated by a vain desire of honor and reputation. I perceived that I was on the edge of
an abyss, and that without an immediate conversion I should be doomed to eternal fire. In
these reflections I spent a long time. Still a prey to uncertainty, one day I decided to
leave Baghdad and to give up everything; the next day I gave up my resolution. I advanced
one step and immediately relapsed. In the morning I was sincerely resolved only to occupy
myself with the future life; in the evening a crowd of carnal thoughts assailed and
dispersed my resolutions. On the one side the world kept me bound to my post in the chains
of covetousness, on the other side the voice of religion cried to me, "Up! Up! Thy
life is nearing its end, and thou hast a long journey to make. All thy pretended knowledge
is naught but falsehood and fantasy. If thou dost not think now of thy salvation, when
wilt thou think of it? If thou dost not break thy chains today, when wilt thou break
them?" Then my resolve was strengthened, I wished to give up all and fee; but the
Tempter, returning to the attack, said, "You are suffering from a transitory feeling;
don't give way to it, for it will soon pass. If you obey it, if you give up this fine
position, this honorable post exempt from trouble and rivalry, this seat of authority safe
from attack, you will regret it later on without being able to recover it."
Thus I remained, torn asunder by the opposite forces of earthly passions and religious
aspirations, for about six months from the month Rajab of the year A.D. 1096. At the close
of them my will yielded and I gave myself up to destiny. God caused an impediment to chain
my tongue and prevented me from lecturing. Vainly I desired, in the interest of my pupils,
to go on with my teaching, but my mouth became dumb. The silence to which I was condemned
cast me into a violent despair; my stomach became weak; I lost all appetite; I could
neither swallow a morsel of bread nor drink a drop of water.
The enfeeblement of my physical powers was such that the doctors, despairing of saving
me, said, "The mischief is in the heart, and has communicated itself to the whole
organism; there is no hope unless the cause of his grievous sadness be arrested."
Finally, conscious of my weakness and the prostration of my soul, I took refuge in God
as a man at the end of himself and without resources. "He who hears the wretched when
they cry" (Qur'an, xxvii. 63) deigned to hear me; He made easy to me the sacrifice of
honors, wealth, and family. I gave out publicly that I intended to make the pilgrimage to
Mecca, while I secretly resolved to go to Syria, not wishing that the Caliph (may God
magnify him) or my friends should know my intention of settling in that country. I made
all kinds of clever excuses for leaving Baghdad with the fixed intention of not returning
thither. The Imams of Iraq criticized me with one accord. Not one of them could admit that
this sacrifice had a religious motive, because they considered my position as the highest
attainable in the religious community. "Behold how far their knowledge goes!"
(Qur'an, liii. 31). All kinds of explanations of my conduct were forthcoming. Those who
were outside the limits of Iraq attributed it to the fear with which the Government
inspired me. Those who were on the spot and saw how the authorities wished to detain me,
their displeasure at my resolution and my refusal of their request, said to themselves,
"It is a calamity which one can only impute to a fate which has befallen the Faithful
and Learning!"
At last I left Baghdad, giving up all my fortune. Only, as lands and property in Iraq
can afford an endowment for pious purposes, I obtained a legal authorization to preserve
as much as was necessary for my support and that of my children; for there is surely
nothing more lawful in the world than that a learned man should provide sufficient to
support his family. I then betook myself to Syria, where I remained for two years, which I
devoted to retirement, meditation, and devout exercises. I only thought of
self-improvement and discipline and of purification of the heart by prayer in going
through the forms of devotion which the Sufis had taught me. I used to live a solitary
life in the Mosque of Damascus, and was in the habit of spending my days on the minaret
after closing the door behind me.
From thence I proceeded to Jerusalem, and every day secluded myself in the Sanctuary of
the Rock. After that I felt a desire to accomplish the pilgrimage, and to receive a full
effusion of grace by visiting Mecca, Medina, and the tomb of the Prophet. After visiting
the shrine of the Friend of God (Abraham), I went to the Hedjaz. Finally, the longings of
my heart and the prayers of my children brought me back to my country, although I was so
firmly resolved at first never to revisit it. At any rate I meant, if I did return, to
live there solitary and in religious meditation; but events, family cares, and
vicissitudes of life changed my resolutions and troubled my meditative calm. However
irregular the intervals which I could give to devotional ecstasy, my confidence in it did
not diminish; and the more I was diverted by hindrances, the more steadfastly I returned
to it.
Ten years passed in this manner. During my successive periods of meditation there were
revealed to me things impossible to recount. All that I shall say for the edification of
the reader is this: I learned from a sure source that the Sufis are the true pioneers on
the path of God; that there is nothing more beautiful than their life, nor more
praiseworthy than their rule of conduct, nor purer than their morality. The intelligence
of thinkers, the wisdom of philosophers, the knowledge of the most learned doctors of the
law would in vain combine their efforts in order to modify or improve their doctrine and
morals; it would be impossible. With the Sufis, repose and movement, exterior or interior,
are illumined with the light which proceeds from the Central Radiance of Inspiration. And
what other light could shine on the face of the earth? In a word, what can one criticize
in them? To purge the heart of all that does not belong to God is the first step in their
cathartic method. The drawing up of the heart by prayer is the key-stone of it, as the cry
"Allahu Akbar' (God is great) is the key-stone of prayer, and the last stage is the
being lost in God. I say the last stage, with reference to what may be reached by an
effort of will; but, to tell the truth, it is only the first stage in the life of
contemplation, the vestibule by which the initiated enter.
From the time that they set out on this path, revelations commence for them. They come
to see in the waking state angels and souls of prophets; they hear their voices and wise
counsels. By means of this contemplation of heavenly forms and images they rise by degrees
to heights which human language can not reach, which one can not even indicate without
falling into great and inevitable errors. The degree of proximity to Deity which they
attain is regarded by some as intermixture of being (haloul), by others as
identification (ittihad), by others as intimate union (wasl). But all these
expressions are wrong, as we have explained in our work entitled, "The Chief
Aim." Those who have reached that stage should confine themselves to repeating the
verse---What I experience I shall not try to say; Call me happy, but ask me no more. In
short, he who does not arrive at the intuition of these truths by means of ecstasy, knows
only the name of inspiration. The miracles wrought by the saints are, in fact, merely the
earliest forms of prophetic manifestation. Such was the state of the Apostle of God, when,
before receiving his commission, he retired to Mount Hira to give himself up to such
intensity of prayer and meditation that the Arabs said: "Mohammed is become enamored
of God."
This state, then, can be revealed to the initiated in ecstasy, and to him who is
incapable of ecstasy, by obedience and attention, on condition that he frequents the
society of Sufis till he arrives, so to speak, at an imitative initiation. Such is the
faith which one can obtain by remaining among them, and intercourse with them is never
painful.
But even when we are deprived of the advantage of their society, we can comprehend the
possibility of this state (revelation by means of ecstasy) by a chain of manifest proofs.
We have explained this in the treatise entitled "Marvels of the Heart," which
forms part of our work, 'The Revival of the Religious Sciences." The certitude
derived from proofs is called "knowledge"; passing into the state we describe is
called "transport"; believing the experience of others and oral transmission is
"faith." Such are the three degrees of knowledge, as it is written, "The
Lord will raise to different ranks those among you who have believed and those who have
received knowledge from him" (Qur'an, lviii. 12).
But behind those who believe comes a crowd of ignorant people who deny the reality of
Sufism, hear discourses on it with incredulous irony, and treat as charlatans those who
profess it. To this ignorant crowd the verse applies: "There are those among them who
come to listen to thee, and when they leave thee, ask of those who have received
knowledge, 'What has he just said?' These are they whose hearts God has sealed up with
blindness and who only follow their passions. Among the number of convictions which I owe
to the practice of the Sufi rule is the knowledge of the true nature of inspiration. This
knowledge is of such great importance that I proceed to expound it in detail.
The Reality of Inspiration: Its Importance for the Human Race
The substance of man at the moment of its creation is a simple monad, devoid of
knowledge of the worlds subject to the Creator, worlds whose infinite number is only known
to him, as the Qur'an says: "Only thy Lord knoweth the number of his armies."
Man arrives at this knowledge by the aid of his perceptions; each of his senses is
given him that he may comprehend the world of created things, and by the term
"world" we understand the different species of creatures. The first sense
revealed to man is touch, by means of which he perceives a certain group of
qualities---heat, cold, moist, dry. The sense of touch does not perceive colors and forms,
which are for it as though they did not exist. Next comes the sense of sight, which makes
him acquainted with colors and forms; that is to say, with that which occupies the highest
rank in the world of sensation. The sense of hearing succeeds, and then the senses of
smell and taste.
When the human being can elevate himself above the world of sense, toward the age of
seven, he receives the faculty of discrimination; he enters then upon a new phase of
existence and can experience, thanks to this faculty, impressions, superior to those of
the senses, which do not occur in the sphere of sensation.
He then passes to another phase and receives reason, by which he discerns things
necessary, possible, and impossible; in a word, all the notions which he could not combine
in the former stages of his existence. But beyond reason and at a higher level by a new
faculty of vision is bestowed upon him, by which he perceives invisible things, the
secrets of the future and other concepts as inaccessible to reason as the concepts of
reason are inaccessible to mere discrimination and what is perceived by discrimination to
the senses. Just as the man possessed only of discrimination rejects and denies the
notions acquired by reason, so do certain rationalists reject and deny the notion of
inspiration. It is a proof of their profound ignorance; for, instead of argument, they
merely deny inspiration as a sphere unknown and possessing no real existence. In the same
way, a man blind from birth, who knows neither by experience nor by information what
colors and forms are, neither knows nor understands them when some one speaks of them to
him for the first time.
God, wishing to render intelligible to men the idea of inspiration, has given them a
kind of glimpse of it in sleep. In fact, man perceives while asleep the things of the
invisible world either clearly manifest or under the veil of allegory to be subsequently
lifted by divination. If, however, one was to say to a person who had never himself
experienced these dreams that, in a state of lethargy resembling death and during the
complete suspension of sight, hearing, and all the senses, a man can see the things of the
invisible world, this person would exclaim, and seek to prove the impossibility of these
visions by some such argument as the following: "The sensitive faculties are the
causes of perception. Now, if one can perceive certain things when one is in full
possession of these faculties, how much more is their perception impossible when these
faculties are suspended."
The falsity of such an argument is shown by evidence and experience. For in the same
way as reason constitutes a particular phase of existence in which intellectual concepts
are perceived which are hidden from the senses, similarly, inspiration is a special state
in which the inner eye discovers, revealed by a celestial light, mysteries out of the
reach of reason. The doubts which are raised regarding inspiration relate (1) to its
possibility, (2) to its real and actual existence, (3) to its manifestation in this or
that person.
To prove the possibility of inspiration is to prove that it belongs to a category of
branches of knowledge which can not be attained by reason. It is the same with medical
science and astronomy. He who studies them is obliged to recognize that they are derived
solely from the revelation and special grace of God. Some astronomical phenomena only
occur once in a thousand years; how then can we know them by experience?
We may say the same of inspiration, which is one of the branches of intuitional
knowledge. Further, the perception of things which are beyond the attainment of reason is
only one of the features peculiar to inspiration, which possesses a great number of
others. The characteristic which we have mentioned is only, as it were, a drop of water in
the ocean, and we have mentioned it because people experience what is analogous to it in
dreams and in the sciences of medicine and astronomy. These branches of knowledge belong
to the domain of prophetic miracles, and reason can not attain to them.
As to the other characteristics of inspiration, they are only revealed to adepts in
Sufism and in a state of ecstatic transport. The little that we know of the nature of
inspiration we owe to the kind of likeness to it which we find in sleep; without that we
should be incapable of comprehending it, and consequently of believing in it, for
conviction results from comprehension. The process of initiation into Sufism exhibits this
likeness to inspiration from the first. There is in it a kind of ecstasy proportioned to
the condition of the person initiated, and a degree of certitude and conviction which can
not be attained by reason. This single fact is sufficient to make us believe in
inspiration.
We now come to deal with doubts relative to the inspiration of a particular prophet. We
shall not arrive at certitude on this point except by ascertaining, either by ocular
evidence or by reliable tradition the facts relating to that prophet. When we have
ascertained the real nature of inspiration and proceed to the serious study of the Qur'an
and the traditions, we shall then know certainly that Mohammed is the greatest of
prophets. After that we should fortify our conviction by verifying the truth of his
preaching and the salutary effect which it has upon the soul. We should verify in
experience the truth of sentences such as the following: "He who makes his conduct
accord with his knowledge receives from God more knowledge"; or this, "God
delivers to the oppressor him who favors injustice"; or again, "Whosoever when
rising in the morning has only one anxiety (to please God), God will preserve him from all
anxiety in this world and the next."
When we have verified these sayings in experience thousands of times, we shall be in
possession of a certitude on which doubt can obtain no hold. Such is the path we must
traverse in order to realize the truth of inspiration. It is not a question of finding out
whether a rod has been changed into a serpent, or whether the moon has been split in two.
If we regard miracles in isolation, without their countless attendant circumstances, we
shall be liable to confound them with magic and falsehood, or to regard them as a means of
leading men astray, as it is written, "God misleads and directs as he chooses"
(Qur'an, xxxv. 9); we shall find ourselves involved in all the difficulties which the
question of miracles raises. If, for instance, we believe that eloquence of style is a
proof of inspiration, it is possible that an eloquent style composed with this object may
inspire us with a false belief in the inspiration of him who wields it. The supernatural
should be only one of the constituents which go to form our belief, without our placing
too much reliance on this or that detail. We should rather resemble a person who, learning
a fact from a group of people, can not point to this or that particular man as his
informant, and who, not distinguishing between them, can not explain precisely how his
conviction regarding the fact has been formed.
Such are the characteristics of scientific certitude. As to the transport which permits
men to see the truth and, so to speak, to handle it, it is only known to the Sufis. What I
have just said regarding the true nature of inspiration is sufficient for the aim which I
have proposed to myself. I may return to the subject later, if necessary. I pass now to
the causes of the decay of faith and show the means of bringing back those who have erred
and of preserving them from the dangers which threaten them. To those who doubt because
they are tinctured with the doctrine of the Ta'limites, my treatise entitled, The Just
Balance, affords a sufficient guide; therefore it is unnecessary to return to the
subject here.
As to the vain theories of the Ibahat, I have grouped them in seven classes, and
explained them in the work entitled, Alchemy of Happiness. For those whose faith
has been undermined by philosophy, so far that they deny the reality of inspiration, we
have proved the truth and necessity of it, seeking our proofs in the hidden properties of
medicines and of the heavenly bodies. It is for them that we have written this treatise,
and the reason for our seeking for proofs in the sciences of medicine and of astronomy is
because these sciences belong to the domain of philosophy. All those branches of knowledge
which our opponents boast of---astronomy, medicine, physics, and divination-provide us
with arguments in favor of the Prophet.
As to those who, professing a lip-faith in the Prophet, adulterate religion with
philosophy, they really deny inspiration, since in their view the Prophet is only a sage
whom a superior destiny has appointed as guide to men, and this view belies the true
nature of inspiration. To believe in the Prophet is to admit that there is above
intelligence a sphere in which are revealed to the inner vision truths beyond the grasp of
intelligence, just as things seen are not apprehended by the sense of hearing, nor things
understood by that of touch. If our opponent denies the existence of such a higher region,
we can prove to him, not only its possibility, but its actuality. If, on the contrary, he
admits its existence, he recognizes at the same time that there are in that sphere things
which reason can not grasp; nay, which reason rejects as false and absurd. Suppose, for
instance, that the fact of dreams occurring in sleep were not so common and notorious as
it is, our wise men would not fail to repudiate the assertion that the secrets of the
invisible world can be revealed while the senses are, so to speak, suspended.
Again, if it were to be said to one of them, "Is it possible that there is in the
world a thing as small as a grain, which being carried into a city can destroy it and
afterward destroy itself so that nothing remains either of the city or of itself?"
"Certainly," he would exclaim, "it is impossible and ridiculous."
Such, however, is the effect of fire, which would certainly be disputed by one who had not
witnessed it with his own eyes. Now, the refusal to believe in the mysteries of the other
life is of the same kind. As to the fourth cause of the spread of unbelief---the decay of
faith owing to the bad example set by learned men---there are three ways of checking it.
(1) One can answer thus: "The learned man whom you accuse of disobeying the divine
law knows that he disobeys, as you do when you drink wine or exact usury or allow yourself
in evil-speaking, lying, and slander. You know your sin and yield to it, not through
ignorance, but because you are mastered by concupiscence. The same is the case with the
learned man. How many believe in doctors who do not abstain from fruit and cold water when
strictly forbidden them by a doctor! That does not prove that those things are not
dangerous, or that their faith in the doctor was not solidly established. Similar errors
on the part of learned men are to be imputed solely to their weakness."
(2) Or again, one may say to a simple and ignorant man: "The learned man reckons
upon his knowledge as a viaticum for the next life. He believes that his knowledge will
save him and plead in his favor, and that his intellectual superiority will entitle him to
indulgence; lastly, that if his knowledge increases his responsibility, it may also
entitle him to a higher degree of consideration. All that is possible; and even if the
learned man has neglected practice, he can at any rate produce proofs of his knowledge.
But you, poor, witless one, if, like him, you neglect practice, destitute as you are of
knowledge, you will perish without anything to plead in your favor."
(3) Or one may answer, and this reason is the true one: "The truly learned man
only sins through carelessness, and does not remain in a state of impenitence. For real
knowledge shows sin to be a deadly poison, and the other world to be superior to this.
Convinced of this truth, man ought not to exchange the precious for the vile. But the
knowledge of which we speak is not derived from sources accessible to human diligence, and
that is why progress in mere worldly knowledge renders the sinner more hardened in his
revolt against God."
True knowledge, on the contrary, inspires in him who is initiate in it more fear and
more reverence, and raises a barrier of defense between him and sin. He may slip and
stumble, it is true, as is inevitable with one encompassed by human infirmity, but these
slips and stumbles will not weaken his faith. The true Moslem succumbs occasionally to
temptation, but he repents and will not persevere obstinately in the path of error.
I pray God the Omnipotent to place us in the ranks of his chosen, among the number of
those whom he directs in the path of safety, in whom he inspires fervor lest they forget
him; whom he cleanses from all defilement, that nothing may remain in them except himself;
yea, of those whom he indwells completely, that they may adore none beside him.
