n a Muslim
university town of North India I was once a silent participant, amongst a group
of students, in a very interesting discussion on Islam and science. Let me make
it clear from the very beginning that they were not discussing the relationship
between ‘science’ and ‘Islam’. Neither did the discussion even tangentially
touch upon what constituted the practice of science. Also, their own
understanding of Islam was not part of critical scrutiny. The discussion assumed
what constituted Islam and science, and the contours of the debate were, so to
say, to ‘prove’ that the technological advancements of human civilisation were
all foretold in the verses of the Koran. Science, in their sense, was
exemplified through computers, huge buildings, missiles and other marvels and
thus was hardly distinguishable from technology. And these things, which men
have invented now, have all been alluded to in various verses of the Koran. I
could not follow all the verses that they were quoting, but the method was
obvious. This method was to relate modern technological gadgets, in terms of
both form and function, to one or more verses of the Koran. If there is even a
remote resonance, it would mean that the object had been foretold in the Koran!
The discussion therefore, I repeat, was not about Islam and science, rather, it
was an attempt to prove that Islam is science.
The discussion group comprised madrassa graduates and
some engineering students. Later on I caught up with one discussant from this
group. A graduate of the Nadwatul Ulema in Lucknow, he came to university and
had joined the Islamic Studies department. Nadwatul Ulema, a madrassa
founded by Maulana Shibli Numani in 1894, firmly believed that the future of
Indian Muslims lay in the hands of a new class of ulema (religious
scholars) who, while being firmly grounded in Islamic traditionalism, would at
the same time be conversant with the challenges of modern life. It was just in
the fitness of things that a graduate of this madrassa sought to
reconcile the two seemingly divergent traditions of science and religion,
although in his own special way. His acquaintance with other students of the
group was through the work of Tabligh.
Now, Tabligh Jamaat or the ‘Faith Movement’ founded by Maulana
Muhammad Ilyas is perhaps the biggest translational Muslim movement in the
world, based at its headquarters in Delhi. The Jamaat stresses the need for
personal improvement of Muslims through the constant remembrance of god and
works primarily among Muslims, when batches of Tablighis interact with ordinary
Muslims to remind them of their duty towards Islam and god. Interestingly
enough, in this case the most devoted members of the Tabligh were to be found
among the engineering graduates!
My interaction with this young graduate of Nadwatul Ulema made
me understand some of the anxieties and hopes that a student might have in
coming to a new place, and then being exposed to alternative ways of thinking.
The manner in which he had resolved this tension was through allocating primacy
to scriptural sources (the Koran) over and above every observable phenomenon.
This approach did not mean shutting out the world, not being able to talk about
it, because of lack of knowledge. The positive thing about this approach is its
active engagement with the here and now, the temporal, the ways of the world, so
to speak.
This anxious restlessness, this desire to grapple with new
technologies, the desire to understand its basis, is in itself a very modern
activity, far removed as it is from the taken-for-granted attitude of non-modern
sectors. It is perhaps too early to fathom the results of this new engagement of
Islam with science. Nevertheless, it is a sign perhaps of an internal churning
within Indian Muslims. The very fact that science is being explained Islamically
points to its influence and impact on the occupants of the ‘non-modern’ sector.
Everyday consumption of television images is bound to throw up a few questions
about one’s relationship to the world and one’s role within it. What our Muslim
students were doing was precisely the same: making sense of the changing world
around them. Through religion, they seek to undo a lot of their own anxieties,
the resolution of which intellectually satisfies them, till they are confronted
with another set of questions.
In another setting, in a rural madrassa in North India I
met students studying for their Fazilat degree, roughly equivalent to the higher
secondary. Hailing from artisan families of North Bihar, they too were
interested in talking about science. However, their articulation of the
relationship between Islam and science differs slightly from the former group of
university students. The university students’ understanding of science was
predicated upon some familiarity with modern technological innovations as well
as their functioning so as to relate it to what has already been said in the
Koran. The madrassa students had no such familiarity. Their madrassa,
like the majority of those in North India, did not have adequate resources to
organise the teaching of science. The students’ understanding of ‘science’
therefore did not go beyond rudimentary information about Indian geography. Yet
there was a marked enthusiasm to talk about science and how modern scientists
have corrupted it!
These students argued that Muslims discovered all sciences. This
assertion was backed by a long commentary on the Koran, which meant that since
the Holy Book is the last word on everything in this world and beyond, it
contains information about everything including science. They cited the names of
Muslims like Ibn Sina (Avicenna) whom they argued was the greatest scientist
because he laid the foundation of medicine. As a devout Muslim, he found
solution to his problems in the Koran. Muslims of a later period forgot about
this divine guidance and consequently could not progress. In fact, Christians
and Jews read the Koran and that was why they made so many discoveries! These
students also argued that some of the major scientists were all Muslims but
their names were changed and hence we do not know them as Muslims anymore. They
were convinced that Isaac Newton was a Muslim whose first name they pronounced
as ‘Ishaq’ rather than Isaac. There were many other ‘Muslim scientists’ in their
list whose names were changed by Jews and Christians. At least two students told
me that it was their mission to prove that all major scientists were Muslims.
Apart from this conception that all major scientists were
Muslims, the madrassa students shared the ‘science as technology’
understanding of the university students. Since god created earth and put human
beings on it, he also gave hints so as to make their life comfortable. The
objective of science therefore is to further such comfort. It has worked wonders
by, among other things, reducing the time for Haj travel. It is, therefore, not
surprising that most Islamic leaders today use the latest gadgets when they can
afford to. The very fact that a relationship between science and Islam is being
discussed in even such a traditional sector as that occupied by the madrassas
is indicative of some deeper processes. From a time in the late 19th century,
when Rashid Ahmad Gangohi opposed even the teaching of philosophy in the Deoband
madrassa, to now, when ‘science and technology’ are everyday matters of
discussion in madrassas – the traditional Muslim sector has indeed come a
long way. It may be argued that this sector is increasingly feeling the
pressures of ‘modernity’ and trying to come to terms with it.
Given the contemporary social and economic churning in Indian
society, it can be safely said that as more and more of this traditional sector
opens up and gets directly linked to market, most importantly through processes
of migration, this debate on ‘Islam and science’ will only gain momentum.
Although it is too early to see the direction that this ‘debate’ will take, one
may discern that this understanding of science is not about the celebration of a
critical individual. Rather, its sole concern is about improving the average
Muslim’s day-to-day life. Science here is not about creative uncertainties, of
ceaseless explorations, of being a method of critical awareness. Science here is
all about livelihood and consumption.
Science as a utilisation concept
Such a conception of science is widely shared. Teachers and
principals of various madrassas have argued that science is not
anti-Islam, rather, it is a tool to show the glory of god. Every Muslim should
study science but with an Islamic purpose: to prove that every word of the Koran
is correct. However, if there is a contradiction between Koran and science, then
one should endeavour to falsify the facts of science! This was even attempted by
a leading 19th century scholar, Sayyid Riza Ahmad Khan, who in his own special
way ‘proved’ that actually it was the sun that revolved round the earth and not
vice versa. Madrassa scholars made a vital differentiation between ‘ilm’
and ‘fann’. By ‘ilm’ they meant religious knowledge, knowledge
based on the Koran and Hadith. On the other hand, ‘fann’ or ‘hunar’
included other capitals required to lead a comfortable life. Fann did not
only mean learning the crafts or trading skills, but also included scientific
study of social and material reality, since they are all meant to earn a living.
There was a distinct conception of something like core knowledge, the only truth
that is already present in religious books. Other kinds of knowledge are
considered additions to this core, without altering it or even attempting a
synthesis between the two.
Such a utilitarian conception of science serves many purposes.
Firstly, it renews the legitimacy of the ulema. More and more, the
authority of the ulema is being questioned since they are no longer the
sole transmitters of religious knowledge. Islam today is being increasingly
accessed by ordinary, lay Muslims through print and television, which undermine
the authority of the ulema whose legitimacy depends largely on personal
transmission of religious knowledge. Technology provides them a wider and
anonymous audience, making them more visible and ensuring that they do not fade
from public memory. In a sense, therefore, the embrace of modern technology by
the ulema is not only an attempt to remain relevant but also to arrest
their declining influence among Muslims.
Secondly, it gives them a contemporary face. Recently, ulema
and madrassas have come under criticism for not including modern subjects
in the curriculum. The argument is that the dars-e-nizami, the curriculum
taught in madrassas, does not equip students to earn a living in the
modern world. And it is precisely for this reason that they want the
introduction of science and other modern subjects in their syllabus.
It is rather ironic but true that both the ulema and
their critics share the same utilitarian notion of science. It is perhaps under
such pressure that madrassas are now keen to point out that Islam is not
anti-science and that there is no harm in teaching science in madrassas.
Apart from taking the winds of criticism out from the sails of its opponents,
this position also gives the madrassas and ulema a very
contemporary face, ready to change with changing times. How many madrassas
will really promote the teaching of science within their sacred boundaries is,
however, another matter.