By: Ustadh Ubaydullah EvansALIM Resident Scholar It’s a strange phenomenon. Thinkers consistently evolve. However, the books, monographs, articles, recorded lectures, etc. through which we consume their ideas seem to live in perpetuity. As a result, an idea or theoretical framework might become foundational in our thinking while the scholar from whom we learned the idea, may come to view it as outmoded or passe. As someone who entered Islam in the late Nineties (Subhanallah, it’s difficult to fathom where the time went. Wa-al-asr...), I joined a fractious, quarrelsome community. In that milieu, a new convert was seen as a potential acolyte for any number of groups; each of which had a distinct mission: establishing states and polities, reviving the Prophetic way (Sunnah) and censuring blameworthy innovation, returning to traditional Islam and legitimizing Sufism, etc. To make matters more confusing, every group was led by brothers and sisters that were apparently knowledgeable and sincere; each of them appealing to the Book and the Sunnah. So when I encountered some of the works Shaykh Taha Jabir al-Alwani (may God have Mercy on him) and the International Institute of Islamic Thought (and a few notable others) explicating the etiquette of disagreement in Islam, I gravitated toward that discourse. Initially, learning about khilaf gave me some language with which I could navigate the differences in religious practice I observed within the community: Where the hands are placed in prayer, the commencement of the month of Ramadan, yes or no to eating Mickey D’s, music, etc. This nascent foray into Usul al-Fiqh (Islamic jurisprudence) provided me with a means of embracing a plurality of expressions of Islamic practice. I could see that the source of these differences was very rarely an issue of deviance. Quite the reverse, in most instances it was sincere adherence to a set of methodological precepts that set these groups apart from one another. In other words, each group could trace its conclusions back to a particular methodology. And insofar as these methodological differences could be broken down to a place that they became insoluble, respecting/tolerating difference was our only recourse. However, at some point the mere toleration of difference became inadequate. We began to celebrate difference. Pluralism became the sine qua non of Islamic civilization. Muslims across time/space had sustained an intermural conversation about the Will of God with no centralized religious authority. Within our discourse, this became a highly emphasized point of contrast between Islamic civilization and that of the premodern West. Further, Surah al-Hujurat had clearly dictated that one of the underlying purposes of our creation was to “know one another.” Therefore, inasmuch as we are able to see our differences as expressions of God’s creative power, and approach each other with curiosity (not enmity), we realize the purpose of our diversity. These ideas are still deeply inspiring to me and I rely on them regularly in my teaching and public presentations. To my mind, this is the foundation of an Islamic civics. Shaykh Taha is one of the of first scholars from whom I learned about the commendable nature of khilaf. Interestingly, he later wrote an article entitled “The Ethics of Disagreement in Islam,” in which he raises some probing questions concerning his earlier views on the topic. During this year’s ALIM Winter Program we will be exploring this article. Referencing some of his earlier positions, Shaykh Taha introduces the article as an evolution in his thinking. I approached the article with a bit of reluctance. As previously mentioned, an esteem for difference of opinion is a foundational aspect of my religious outlook. And yet, the experience of Gaza is undeniable. For the past 16 months we’ve not only witnessed, but supported with our tax dollars, a veritable genocide against our co-religionists. Embracing difference of opinion—instead of working to develop consensus—in our collective response to this crisis led to an inevitable weakening of our political capital. In other words, when the culture of diversity we embrace with regard to law and theology is extended to politics we sacrifice efficacy. Should we be celebrating the fact that all of us did what we wanted, even if none of us achieved what we wanted? According to exit polls from the most recent presidential election, the Muslim vote was nearly evenly split among the candidates of the two major parties and the Green Party candidate. The ability of our community to make a concerted intervention, wisely invest our severely limited political capital, and prove the indispensability of our collective vote was nullified by our diversity. I have to let that sink in. Clearly, the diversity that I previously treated as a net positive may not always be in the best interest of our community. But is there an alternative? Is the term “consensus” just a euphemism for a process by which the will of the advantaged compels the endorsement of the disadvantaged? What about pragmatism? Have we simply become too atomistic in our orientation, too individualistic in our self-undertstanding to aim at being united? Is the American Muslim community comprised of too many distinct communities; ethnically, socio-economically, and religiously to be united? What is the process through which we can develop greater unity among ourselves? Is it majority rule? Should we embrace our diversity but subsequently develop out of that diversity certain points of consensus? At the very least, it is significant that a thinker as well-versed and circumspect as Shaykh Taha Jabir al-Alwani changed his opinion on this issue. We’d like to give him a hearing and place the matter before our community as a point of deliberation. Please join us at this year’s ALIM Winter Program.
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