Guys, for many (such as yourselves) in the West, today, it will come as a major surprise to learn that Modern Europe owes a great deal to Islam. In fact, it would not be an exaggeration to say that modernity in Europe could not have come about without the agency of the Islamic Civilization. Through the Muslim invasion of Spain in the 8th century and later through the Crusades against the Muslims unleashed by Europe at turn of the 11th century (that would last well into the 16th century), Europe would learn much from the Islamic civilization, so much so that it would enable it to jump-start the Renaissance and, in time, indirectly, through the diaspora of the Andalusian Jews, the Enlightenment itself. Given, however, the animosity that Christianity has always displayed toward Islam, this immeasurable debt that Europe owes to the Islamic Civilization remains unacknowledged in the West, to this day--except among the learned few in the academic community.
What is more, the unshakable, granite-like ignorance that characterized the vast bulk of the European peasantry during the Crusades about the religion of Islam--in terms of beliefs and practices--has survived to the present day almost intact among the populace in Europe (and in North America). It is with these points in mind that I am assigning you this packet.
A note about articles 2, 3, and 4. Articles 2 and 4 are written by me, therefore they should be considered are extentions of my class lectures. (Now, you do know what that means, right?) Article 3 talks about contributions from two very important Muslim scholars: Averroes and Avicenna. These names are Europeanised names. The original Muslim names are Ibn Rushd (Averroes) and Ibn Sina (Avicenna).
Before you proceed,
however, we must dispose off a pressing question that ought to have popped
up in your 'noggins' as you contemplate the thesis of the preceding paragraphs.
Why did the Islamic civilization not learn anything from Europe as Europe
slowly and surely began to march on to modernity toward the end of the
Middle Ages? By "any thing" I mean that which could have allowed it to
retain its economic and cultural superiority that it had possessed at the
beginning of the Middle Ages. The extract below from chapter 12 of the
book by Bernard Lewis,
The Muslim Discovery of Europe, provides
us with one possible answer.
[....]
It may well seem strange that classical Islamic civilization which, in its earlier days, was so much affected by Greek and Asian influences should so decisively have rejected the West. But a possible explanation may be suggested. While Islam was still expanding and receptive, western Europe had little or nothing to offer but rather flattered Muslim pride with the spectacle of a culture that was visibly and palpably inferior. What is more, the very fact that it was Christian discredited it in advance. The Muslim doctrine of successive revelations culminating in the final mission of Muhammed led the Muslim to reject Christianity as an earlier and imperfect form of something which he, himself, possessed in its final, perfect form, and to discount Christian thought and Christian Civilization accordingly. After the initial impact of eastern Christianity on Islam in its earliest period, Christian influences, even from the high civilization of Byzantium, were reduced to a minimum. Later, by the time that the advance of Christendom and the retreat of Islam had created a new relationship, Islam was crystallized in its ways of thought and behavior and had become impervious to external stimuli, especially those coming from the millennial adversary in the West. Walled off by the military might of the Ottoman Empire, still a formidable barrier even in its decline, the peoples of Islam continued until the dawn of the modern age to cherish--as some of us in the West still do today--the conviction of the immeasurable and immutable superiority of their own civilization to all others. For the medieval Muslim, from Andalusia to Persia, Christian Europe was a backward land of ignorant infidels. It was a point of view which might perhaps have been justified at one time; by the end of the Middle Ages it was becoming dangerously obsolete.
[....]
pp.300-301
Note: Guys,
the material that follows is part of a larger section that I wrote and
which I have deleted to make your life a tad easier.
French historian and philosopher Alain de Libera, an authority on medieval thought, talks to Rachid Sabbaghi about some unjustly neglected chapters in the history of Western philosophy.NOTE: In this article I have substituted the word Arab with the word Muslim for reasons I have explained in class.
The Muslim Forebears of the European Renaissance.
[Interview with French historian and philosopher Alain de Libera]
Interviewer: Rachid Sabbaghi.
Rachid Sabbaghi: How did you first become interested in Muslim-Islamic philosophy?
Alain de Libera: It was when I embarked on my work as a historian of medieval philosophy. I read a book by the French philosopher and historian Etienne Gilson called L'Etre et l'Essence ("Being and Essence"), which contained two extraordinary, thought-provoking chapters on Avicenna and Averroes. Ever since, my interest in Muslim-Islamic philosophy has been indissociable from my interest in medieval philosophy.
The received wisdom at the Sorbonne when I was a student there was that the Middle Ages were a kind of long parenthesis in the history of humankind. The nineteenth-century French scholar Ernest Renan called it an appalling period, a "1,000-year disaster". The traditional view insisted that nothing happened between Aristotle and Descartes. As a philosophy student, then, I saw the Middle Ages as a neglected period of history.
When I read Gilson's book, I realized that at the core of this neglect was neglect of the Muslim-Islamic dimension within medieval philosophy. I then became convinced of two things: first, that medieval thought as a whole had a contribution to make to philosophy that was as important as that of Greek or classical philosophy; and secondly, that a key reason why it was overshadowed was the overshadowing of Muslim-Islamic philosophy, which I then approached from the most difficult philosophical angle, the metaphysical angle.
RS: Was the contribution of Muslim culture to the making of modern Europe not overlooked as well?
A. de L.: Yes, without doubt. But it must be said that there was something diabolical in this neglect, since it went hand in glove with the recognition of a certain debt. This debt is often referred to as though it should be taken for granted, as when people say: "The existence of a Muslim-Islamic legacy is so obvious that there's not much point in discussing it." The debt is so patent that it distracts attention from the neglect. People say: "Of course the Muslims passed on the bulk of Greek science to the Christian West." But we must be careful here: when it is admitted, objectively and dispassionately, that the Muslims were "transmitters", they are denied any other role or any other contribution to the overall history of Western thought. Recognition of this kind, through a process of total assimilation, turns the Muslims into the continuation, in another form, of the Greeks, into people whose only role was to pass on what they had received, just as relay runners hand over a baton or torch. They passed on a science that was not theirs, a science they simply reproduced and perpetuated. They passed it on, then stepped aside; their job was done. They withdrew from the European stage, where they had no business to be and where they had never had anything to do but serve as intermediaries.
Now this image is fallacious. The Muslims made a much more important contribution to the history of European thought than that.
RS: How would you define this contribution?
A. de L.: I should find it very hard to answer the question: "What contribution did Greek philosophy make to the forming of a European identity?". The question you have asked has equally wide implications. The influence of such thinkers as Avicenna and Averroes on European culture is as vast a subject as that of Plato's or Aristotle's influence. One is tempted to treat the subject comprehensively, and looking at it in detail it is hard to know where to begin. But I will try to suggest some basic guidelines.
Perhaps the simplest thing would be to start with the notions of science and scientificity. In the twelfth century the Christian world realized that there existed a considerable corpus of scientific work in Antiquity (which had up to then been lost or known only in a very fragmented and indirect form) - a systematic organization of knowledge, a division of the sciences, a classification of scientific disciplines, an articulation, a system, a hierarchy of disciplines. The West made this discovery when the catalogue of sciences drawn up by Al-Farabi was translated into Latin.
With Al-Farabi the Christian world obtained its first signposts to the corpus of knowledge bequeathed by late Antiquity organized so as to provide a kind of map of the knowable. The West then went on to make a detailed examination of each of these sciences, which ranged from astronomy and metaphysics to psychology, biology, botany and meteorology. In each case it discovered an Arabic text which, if it was not always a founding text, had the effect of accompanying, boosting or accelerating knowledge.
Between the end of the twelfth century and the middle of the thirteenth century, the Latin West became scientifically literate as a result of two great batches of translations of Muslim scientific works, which became the very foundation of the university system. The medieval European university, which came into being at the beginning of the thirteenth century, was in a sense the institutional manifestation of the map of knowledge drawn by Al-Farabi. The Muslim learning that was translated and passed on to the West formed the basis and the scientific foundation of the university in its living reality - the reality of its syllabus, the content of its teaching.
The historical paradox is that this Muslim learning, which never spawned a university in the Islamic world itself, provided the Latin West with the substance of an institution that enabled it to develop rapidly and acquire a growing ascendancy over the rest of the world. The influence of that learning was therefore quite inestimable. It was not just a case of progress in this or that field or discipline, or a specific contribution to this or that aspect of an existing or nascent science. It was the very idea of the university and its reality as an institution that grew out of the Arabs' systematization of knowledge. If you want to talk about the profound influence of Muslim-Islamic philosophy on the Latin West, you have to approach the phenomenon from this angle, from the notion that science, ideology and, to some extent, history, the history of thought, took shape in a unique institution, the university.
RS: What about the disciplines themselves?
A. de L.: I think a distinction needs to be made between two aspects of this question. As far as the Middle Ages are concerned, one aspect of the medieval output of knowledge is linked to an activity which today seems very outmoded: the commentary. There was a phenomenon that might be called medieval "commentarism"; medieval culture was based on texts. It is reasonable to assume that about half the texts read and commented upon in medieval universities were of Muslim origin. There was the corpus of Aristotelian physics and its Muslim sequel, the corpus of Aristotle's De Anima (On the Soul) and its Muslim sequel, and the corpus of his Metaphysics and its Muslim sequel.
But the manner in which knowledge was transmitted is only one aspect of the question. It is more important to see how new disciplines emerged, how new knowledge was acquired, how sciences came into being. At this point we leave behind the aspect of "commentarism" and the transmission of texts, however interesting it may be, as a phenomenon of another kind begins to emerge.
RS: What kind of phenomenon?
A. de L.: I deliberately referred to Aristotle's De Anima. It would be stretching a point to describe this as the founding text of psychology as a science. It presents an extraordinarily complex doctrine of the soul, which was adapted, annotated and partly rewritten over the centuries. In this context, a work such as Averroes's great commentary on the De Anima is not just another piece of annotation, but one that raises fresh problems that bring out inconsistencies and gaps in Aristotle's discourse. And the realization by Averroes that Aristotle's work led nowhere, that there were residual difficulties in his system or what was assumed to be a system - and that the very formulation of his founding principle was faulty means that Averroes had something more to contribute than annotation or commentary. He caused the very foundations of philosophy to be questioned.
This being the case, the issue cannot be approached from a purely quantitative point of view. One cannot simply say that Averroes added 200 pages to Aristotle's 100. What Averroes added was the astute perception that Aristotelianism is something that had to be built, that it was not "ready-made", and consequently, that the science of the soul had to be built. Its fundamental tools and its broadest concepts needed to be defined. As soon as Averroes became known, there was a debate about what the science of the soul might be. Before Averroes, what Aristotle had said was simply repeated and reproduced.
I insist on this point because Averroes is usually made out to be no more than a commentator on Aristotle. In fact he was more than this. He certainly repeated what his predecessor said in some areas, but always with the aim of developing a body of knowledge that obeyed the model of science as Averroes defined it - a model that was essentially demonstrative and strongly argued from a logical point of view, a model that sought to be consistent and systematic. It may consequently be said that it was Averroes who, in a sense, invented the science of psychology, whereas all Aristotle did was pass on the corpus and the terms on which the science would be built.
RS: What did Averroes contribute to psychology apart from the idea that it could become a science?
A. de L.: He contributed the basis on which he tried to create that science, namely the critique of materialism. It was important in his eyes to recognize psychical reality as such, as something thoroughly independent, autonomous and separate from the biological sphere (what today we would tend to call the materialist sphere). He made a distinction between the theory of thought and the theory of cerebral functions. He believed there was an absolute moral irreducibility between the physical world and the "noetic" world - i.e. the psychological and cognitive processes, scientific thought itself. He strove to put across a view that preserved Aristotelian empiricism as far as possible, but diverged from it when that empiricism tended to reduce thought to its material elements alone.
Averroes posed the question of the psychological subject, the thinking subject. And he posed it by criticizing any interpretation that might reduce the soul and thought to products of the body, to forms secreted by the body. He regarded the psychological subject as independent of its corporal substratum.
RS: What theory did he propose?
A. de L.: He set up a model that the history of psychology has shown to be immensely fruitful what might be called a topological model. He tried to see the act of knowing in terms of elements that are neither corporal nor non-corporal, but purely psychical - what he called the intellect. In the intellect, he distinguished between a passive dimension which receives concepts, and an active dimension which produces those concepts. There is therefore an interaction between three agencies - imagination, receptiveness and activity.
So Averroes proposed a theory which, although it broke away from materialism, was not a theory of the individual subject, of the thinking ego, of what Descartes would later describe as "the thinking being". Averroes did his best to steer clear of the twin pitfalls of materialism and psychologism.
When students say to me: "What on earth is all this talk of active intellect and passive intellect? What does it mean?", I reply: "What is the ego, what is the super-ego?" They are not entities that can be located in the brain, nor are they egos within the ego. They are agencies that form part of a dynamic vision of the psyche. I believe that if people could think in this way about Averroes, they would appreciate his radical novelty: the introduction of a model that was unknown before him. His approach involved finding a space which is neither that of materiality (the corporeal), nor that of an ego entirely in control of itself and of its conscious acts. It may be a little difficult to grasp, but it does seem to me that this topological model of the soul, which was unknown before Averroes, has not yet yielded all its riches.
RS: In your book Penser au Moyen-Age, you even put forward the theory of a Muslim contribution to the appearance of the European mentality. You suggest that Muslim culture could have made possible the emergence of that curious creature which subsequently conquered the world: the modern individual.
A. de L.: Let's start with the notion of the intellectual. An intellectual is someone who lives in a specific institution, the university, and has a specific task, which is to understand, to find out, to know and to act within the general framework of a practice which is that of the scientist. In the ancient Greek world, the wise man adopted a contemplative attitude. He wanted to find out the intelligible structure of reality by detaching himself to some extent from the material world, the world of sensations and appearances. This is the thoroughgoing Platonism of ancient philosophy, which is found even in Aristotelianism, since the ideal of the wise man, as expressed by Aristotle in his Nicomachean Ethics, is summed up in a single Greek word: theoria, i.e. "contemplation". A man of this kind lives a life of leisure: he is wealthy and has a small circle of friends. He does not work and he is free.
What fresh contribution does the Muslim-Islamic vision of the wise man make to this model? I would say that in a sense it rehabilitates the work of the intellectual. Intellectuals no longer contemplate eternal intelligible structures, but know things as they are, going into the detail, reality and substance of a changing world that has its own reality and consistency and is subject to a number of laws. Not a separate and eternal world, but this world, in all its cohesion, beauty, organization and structure. So where is the dividing line between work and contemplation? It does not exist, because it is impossible to be involved in the science of optics or medicine, or to investigate certain meteorological phenomena, without observing, seeking, investigating, looking, working and organizing. This is particularly true of optics, which was the great triumph of Muslim science and its finest export to the Latin world.
RS: Was this change of perspective also a change in the way people related to work?
A. de L.: Yes. Finding out about things is work. But it is not a constricting experience. Far from it, it has a liberating effect. It does not belong to what were known as the mechanical arts, those "adulterous" arts which ended up enslaving humans to matter instead of liberating them. The whole relationship between scientific work and the contemplative attitude is thus radically altered. And it was in the universities that this new type of intellectual most thrived.
I would say that the emergence of the individual began when the relationship between wisdom and knowledge, and between contemplation and work, was completely redefined. Universities were able to expand because they were societies of individuals effectively linked by a whole series of reciprocal services and social obligations. The scientific ideal, the ideal of shared knowledge, of a community of lives based on the communication of knowledge and on the joint discovery of the reality of things - all these went far to shape the individual. In this context, individuals are neither aristocrats living off their resources and savouring from time to time the joys of intellectual contemplation, nor wretches enslaved by the demands of their jobs, but members of a society of human beings who have gathered to share a moral code, a task and an ideal.
Obviously this ideal does not at first concern the whole of society. But it is already a model. The modern notion of the individual does not really come into its own until there is an overall social dimension, until there is a general society of individuals, a civil society which parts company with the medieval world of hierarchies, obligations and highly codified social roles.
Universities helped to bring about the transition from one world to the other. They were laboratories in which the notion of the European individual was invented. The latter is always defined as someone who strikes a balance between culture, freedom and enterprise, someone who has the capacity to show initiative and innovate. As it happens, and contrary to a widely held view, this new type of person came into being at the heart of the medieval university world, prompted by the notion - which is not Greek but Arabic - that work liberates.
RS: Can you be more specific about this non-Greek notion?
A. de L.: It is the idea, developed notably by Al-Farabi and Avicenna, which holds that the act of knowing, the work of the scientist, generates wisdom. After Avicenna, the Latins eventually adopted this theory, according to which the philosopher and the prophet come together in a single temperament. It is the idea of natural prophecy. For the Latins it becomes synonymous with knowing in order to gain foresight. It is not prophetic revelation; it is the ability to say what must happen on the basis of one's knowledge of the reality of things. In other words, it is natural, not supernatural, prophecy.
This is an extraordinary novelty: the reconciliation in one and the same person of the scientist and the natural prophet. It takes us to the origins of the new conception of European science, science which is neither purely contemplative nor purely technical, but presupposes a reconciliation of the two.
RS: Could you briefly outline for us the successive stages of your philosophy as expounded in your three major works, Penser au Moyen-Age, la Philosophie Medievale and Averroes et l'averroisme?
A. de L.: In Averroes et l'averroisme, I wanted to write a little book that would show more sympathy for its subject than Renan did when he wrote about Averroes in the last century. My idea was to give an account of the multiplicity of Averroes's legacies and filiations. I devoted a lot of space to Jewish Averroism, because I wanted to show that while Averroes's influence on posterity was wide-ranging, it was particularly strong on Jewish thinking. It could be said that a good deal of medieval Jewish philosophy, and certainly its most original side, came in Averroes's wake. Penser au Moyen Age was written in a different, freer and more personal way. Sometimes it is more aggressive, and sometimes more ironical.
RS: What is the book's thesis?
A. de L.: After making a diagnosis of the deplorable state of political debate in France as regards Islam and the Muslim world, based on observation of the devastating effect on people's minds of Jean-Marie Le Pen's ideology in particular and of xenophobic ideology in general, and on a realization that the Muslim world was being mixed up with the Muslim world, and both of them associated with a hotchpotch of fanaticism, intolerance and ignorance, I said to myself that the prime task of the historian was perhaps to recall what the "forgotten legacy" had been.
That is the subject of one chapter of the book, and although there are other chapters I think it represents the core of the book. My aim was to draw attention to European culture's profound and usually overlooked debt to the Muslim-Islamic legacy, or Andalusian model, as it has also been called. As a result my book, which aimed to give the Middle Ages a new place in the history of European culture and in the making of the European identity, focused on a crucial moment in history - the Muslim-Islamic moment.
La Philosophie Medievale is an academic account of what Penser au Moyen Age sets fort h in a polemical form. It is based entirely on the notion that philosophy did not die out with the Greeks. The history of philosophy between late Antiquity and the end of the Middle Ages needs to be seen in terms of a shift in the centres of study, a kind of migration. Philosophy was a migratory bird which left the East - Baghdad in the ninth century A.D. and, after making its way along the Mediterranean, moved up through Andalusia into northern Europe, where it finally reached the land of its choice. But it never died out in any of the places it traversed during its centuries-long journey.
Basically I wanted to show that the history of philosophy based on the Graeco-German myth, which holds that philosophy originated in Greece and made its way directly to the minds of nineteenth-century German thinkers - simply does not hold water. Embarking on a perfectly normal process of academic research, I set out to rehabilitate the Muslim and Jewish contribution to that history, in other words the forgotten legacy.
RS: How does your most recent book, Saint-Thomas d'Aquin contre Averroes, fit into this scheme of things?
A. de L.: It throws light on a particular moment in the process whereby Averroes was accepted by the Latin West, the moment when two models of psychology openly confronted each other - Averroes's model, which I attempted to describe above (and which is based on a rejection of both materialism and the Cartesian cogito), and Thomas Aquinas's theory, which was closer to Aristotle. Aquinas defended Aristotle against Averroes, whom he accused of having been a corrupter as well as a commentator, and turned back to Aristotle as someone who exalted the person and personal thought, the ego and the I, against what Aquinas regarded as Averroes's scandalous claim that there is such a thing as transpersonality of thought.
What I wanted to do was to give an account of probably the best and most powerful critique of Averroes produced during the Middle Ages. And, because I so much enjoy working on Averroes, I also wanted to describe what form anti-Averroism could take. /2
RS: What are your plans for the future?
A. de L.: I have several projects. The main one that concerns us here is a translation of Aver-roes's commentary on Aristotle's De Anima. As you know, the commentary has survived only in Latin. The original Arabic version has been lost, and the Hebrew translation is based on the Latin. The Latins pass on to us something that was passed on to them and which no longer exists anywhere else: there could be no better illustration of the silences of history. When translating the text, I shall do my best to make sure that it does not come across as a kind of antiquated curiosity, but as a high point in the history of psychology. I shall try to make a modern interpretation of it, using the instruments appropriate to the kind of debate and discussion that currently focuses on the relationship between body and soul.
1. Penser au Moyen Age, Seuil, Paris, 1991.
2. La philosophie medievale, new edition, PUF, Paris, 1995; Averroes et l'averroisme, (co-author), PUF, Paris, 1991.
Article 4
Note: Guys, the material that follows is part of a larger section that I wrote and which I have deleted to make your life a tad easier.
According to Nakosteen (1964:vii): "At a time when European monarchs were hiring tutors to teach them how to sign their names, Muslim educational institutions were preserving, modifying and improving upon the classical cultures in their progressive colleges and research centers under enlightened rulers. Then as the results of their cumulative and creative genius reached the Latin West through translations... they brought about that Western revival of learning which is our modern heritage." Making the same observation, James Burke (1995:36) reminds us that at the point in time when the first European universities at Bologna and Charters were being created, their future as academic centers of learning was far from certain. The reason? He explains: "The medieval mind was still weighed down by centuries of superstition, still fearful of new thought, still totally obedient to the Church and its Augustinian rejection of the investigation of nature. They lacked a system for investigation, a tool with which to ask questions and, above all, they lacked the knowledge once possessed by the Greeks, of which medieval Europe had heard, but which had been lost." But then, he further explains: “In one electrifying moment it was rediscovered. In 1085 the [Muslim] citadel of Toledo in Spain fell, and the victorious Christian troops found a literary treasure beyond anything they could have dreamed of." Over the two hundred years or so, through the mediation of Spanish Jews, European Christians and others, much of that learning would now be translated from Arabic, which for centuries had been the language of science, into Latin, Spanish, Hebrew and other languages, to be disseminated all across Europe. It should be further pointed out here that long periods of peaceful co-existence between Christians, Jews, Muslims and others in Spain, even after the fall of Toledo, was also highly instrumental in facilitating the work of translation and knowledge export into Western Europe. To a lesser extent, but important still, the fall of Muslim Sicily, beginning with the capture of Messina in 1061 by Count Roger (brother of Robert Guiscard), and ending with his complete takeover of the island from the Muslims in 1091, was yet another avenue by which Muslim learning entered, via translations, Western Europe (see Ahmed, 1975, for more). This export of Islamic and Islamic mediated Greek science to the Latin West would continue well into the thirteenth century (after all, Islam was not completely vanquished from the Iberian peninsula until the capture of the Muslim province of Granada, more than four hundred years after the fall of Toledo, in 1492).
Among the more prominent of the translators who worked in either Spain or Sicily (or even both) included: Abraham of Toledo, Adelard of Barth, Alfonso X the El Sabio, Constantine the African (Constantinus Africanus), Dominicus Gundissalinus, Eugenius of Palermo, Gerard of Cremona, Isaac ibn Sid, John of Seville, Leonardo Pisano, Michael Scott, Moses ibn Tibbon, Qalonymos ben Qalonymos, Robert of Chester, Stephanus Arnoldi, etc. (See Nakosteen,1964, for more names--including variants of these names--and details on when and what they translated.) To really drive the point home, however, it is necessary to provide here (even if, due to space constraints, only most cursorily) a few examples of the kinds of contributions that the Muslim scholars (and non-Muslim scholars too, but all working under the aegis of the Islamic civilization)--many of whom, it may be further noted, were polymaths in the truest sense of the word--made to the intellectual and scientific development of Europe on the eve of the Renaissance; and without which the development of the modern Western university would have been greatly compromised. This task (based on Nakosteen, 1964; Sarton, 1962 (1927-1948); Stanton, 1990, and others mentioned below) is accomplished by the following chronological listing of some of the most important names in the pantheon of Islamic scholars of the Middle Ages, together with a briefest delineation of their work, some of which would eventually make its way to the Latin West:
·Abu
Musa Jabir ibn-Hayyan (ca. 721-815,
known in the Latin West as Geber), an alchemist who advocated the importance
of experiments in advancing scientific knowledge: "It must be taken as
an absolutely rigorous principle that any proposition which is not supported
by proofs is nothing more than an assertion which may be true or may be
false." (Quoted in Artz, 1980:166.) His work would be foundational in the
development of the field of chemistry, even if the raison d'etre of his
scientific work (alchemy) was, from the vantage point of today, misguided.
·Musa
al-Khwarazmi (d. ca. 863), his
seminal contributions in mathematics helped to develop that field enormously.
In fact, through his mathematical treatise, al-Jabr wa'l-Mugabalah,
he not only gave the West the term 'algebra' (latinized shorthand of the
title of his treatise), but far more significant than that, he was the
conduit for the passage of arithmetic numerals from India to the West.
For example, he would be responsible for the introduction to the Latin
West of such key mathematical tools as the concept of 'zero' (an independent
Hindu/Chinese invention in the 6th century AD), and
the decimal system. His other contributions included sine and cotangent
tables, astronomical tables, and the cartographic concepts of latitude
and longitude. Even the term 'algorithm' comes from him, albeit unwittingly--it
is the latinized version of his name. He also produced a revised version
of Ptolemy's geography which he called The Face of the Earth.
·Abu
Yosuf Ya'qub ibn Ishaq ibn al-Sabbah al-Kindi (d.
ca. 870) a philosopher and mathematician, his contributions included works
on Hindu numerals and geometry and physiological optics.
·Muhammed al-Razi (844-926, known as Rhazes in the Latin West), a physician whose work helped to further greatly the development of clinical medicine. His work on smallpox and measles would remain authoritative in the West for almost four hundred years; and his work on the diseases of childhood would earn him the accolade of 'Father of Pediatrics' in the West. It is no wonder that a large part of the medical curriculum at the Universities of Salerno and Paris comprised his work.
·Muhammed ibn Muhammed ibn Tarkhan ubn Uzalagh al-Farabi (c. 878-c. 950, known in the Latin West as Alpharabius), author of the The Enumeration of the Sciences, provided an integrated approach to the sciences and reiterated the distinction between divine knowledge and human knowledge.
·Abu
Al-Husayn Ali Ibn Al-Husayn Al-Masudi (d. 957), historian and explorer
who is sometimes referred to as the "Herodotus of the Arabs." His works
included the 132 chapter The Meadows of Gold and Mines of Gems,
an abridgement of a multidisciplinary multi-volume treatise on history
and scientific geography of the worldAbd al-Rahman al-SufiIbn Yunus
and Ulegh Beg), his contributions include a major treatise on observational
astronomy titled The Book of Fixed Stars.
·Abu al-Qasim Khalaf ibn al-Abbas Al-Zahrawi (930-1013, known to the Latin West as Albucasis), a famous physician and surgeon, he wrote a treatise on medicine and medical practice that ran into 30 volumes. The last of these volumes was extremely important because in it he covered all aspects of surgery including providing illustrations of surgical instruments. This work is thought to have been the first work on surgery ever written anywhere and it would in time become a standard text in medical schools in the Latin West. Interestingly, some of the surgical procedures that he described in his work are still carried out to this day in like manner.
·Abu Alimacr al-Hassan Ibn al-Haitham (ca. 965-1039, known in the West as Alhazen), through his works in optics, he became a major contributor to the development of the physical sciences in the Latin West. He was the first scientist to conclude that sight involved the transmission of light from the seen object to the eye, which acted as a lens. He also introduced the method of using the camera obscura for the purposes of studying solar eclipses. It would not be an exaggeration to say that his scientific work would remain unchallenged for nearly 600 years until the arrival of Johann Kepler.
·Abu
'Ali Al-Husain Ibn Abdallah Ibn Sina (980-1037,
known in the Latin West as Avicenna), who was among the progenitors of
Scholasticism in the West and whose intellectual influence would touch
Western thinkers as diverse as Thomas Aquinas, Roger Bacon, Robert Grosseteste,
Albertus Magnus and Duns Scotus, was a great philosopher and scientist
with one of the most prolific pens of his day: among his many works, two
that the West got to know well are The Book of Healing--which, according
to Stanton (1990:85) stands as the 'longest encyclopedia of knowledge ever
authored by a single person'--and The Canon on Medicine, which would
remain the principal textbook par excellence on medicine in the West for
many, many years.
This listing continues in the note below.[4] Now, of course, it must be conceded, that the contributions by the Muslims to the intellectual and scientific development of Europe was made unwittingly; yet even so, it must be emphatically stressed, it was of no less significance. Moreover, that is how history, after all, really unfolds in practice; it is not made in the way it is usually presented in history textbooks: namely, a continuous chain of teleological developments. To explain: those who study history, especially comparative history, are burdened by the constant and sobering reminder that no matter how intelligently purposeful human beings (the Europeans in this particular instance) may consider themselves; at the end of the day, major social transformations, such as the European Renaissance or the Scientific Revolution, for example, are as much a product of chance and circumstance, as directed human endeavors (in the shape of 'social movements'--broadly understood).
In other words: any teleological order that may appear to exist in any history of social transformations is in reality an expression of the fallacy of historical teleology. History (regardless of whether it is written or oral) is, ultimately, a selective chronicle of a series of conjunctures of fortuitously 'propitious' historical factors where the role of purposive human agency, is, more often than not, absent from the social transformation in question. Stephen K. Sanderson, in his book, Social Transformations: A General Theory of Historical Development (1995:13), makes this point with even greater clarity when he observes that "...individuals acting in their own interests create social structures and systems that are the sum total and product of these socially oriented individual actions." However, he points out, "[t]hese social structures and systems are frequently constituted in ways that individuals never intended, and thus individually purposive human action leads to many unintended consequences." In other words, he concludes, "[s]ocial evolution is driven by purposive or intended human actions, but it is to a large extent not itself a purposive or intended phenomenon." Looking from the perspective of the West, the veracity of this fact was embodied at a particular point in time, on the eve of the Renaissance, in the retreat of the Muslims from Europe, under the aegis of the Reconquista--symbolized by the fall of Toledo in that fateful summer of 1085. The Europeans who entered Toledo under the leadership of Alfonso VI of Castille-Leon, could never have envisioned, much less planned, the centrality of Muslim intellectual and scientific contributions to the development of Europe, for centuries to come, that their actions would precipitate.[5]
Guys, the truth of the matter really, then, is this: during the medieval era, the Europeans acquired from the scholars of the Islamic empire a number of essential elements that would be absolutely central to the foundation of the modern Western university: First, they acquired a huge corpus of knowledge that the Muslims had gathered together over the centuries in their various centers of learning (e.g. Baghdad, Cairo and Cordoba) through a dialectical combination of their own investigations, as well as by gathering knowledge from across geographic space (from Afghanistan, China, India, the Levant, Persia, etc.) and from across time: through translations of classical works of Greek, Alexandrian and other scholars. (See Nakosteen, 1964, for a lengthy presentation of the relevant key facts.) Lest there is a misunderstanding here: it must be stressed that it is not that the Muslims were mere transmitters of Hellenic knowledge (or any other people's knowledge); far from it: they, as the French philosopher Alain de Libera (1997) points out, also greatly elaborated on it by the addition of their own scholarly findings. "Yet it would be wrong to think that the Arabs [sic] confined themselves to a slavish appropriation of Greek results. In practical and in theoretical matters Islam faced problems that gave rise to the development of an independent philosophy and science," states Pedersen (1997:118) as he makes a similar observation (as do Benoit and Micheau, 1995, Huff, 1993, and Stanton, 1990, among others). What kinds of problems is Pedersen referring to here? Examples include: the problems of reconciling faith and scientific philosophy; the problems of ocean navigation (e.g. in the Indian ocean); the problem of determining the direction to Mecca (qibla) from the different parts of the Islamic empire for purposes of daily prayers; the problem of resolving the complex calculations mandated by Islamic inheritance laws; the problems of constructing large congregational mosques (jami al masjid); the problems of determining the accuracy of the lunar calendar for purposes of fulfilling religious mandates, such as fasting (ramadhan); the problems of planning new cities; and so on. Commenting on the significance of this fact, Stanton (1990) reminds us that even if the West would have eventually had access to the Greek classical texts maintained by the Byzantines in places like Constantinople, it would have missed out on this very important Islamic contribution of commentaries, additions, revisions, interpretations, etc. of the Greek classical texts.[6] A good example of the Muslim contribution to learning derived from Greek sources is Ibn Sina's Canon Medicinae, and from the perspective of medieval medical teaching, its importance, according to Pedersen (1997:125) "...can hardly be overrated, and to this day it is read with respect as the most superior work in this area that the past has ever produced."
Now, as Burke explains, this knowledge alone would have wrought an intellectual revolution by itself. However, the fact that it was accompanied by the Aristotelian concept of argument by syllogism that Muslim philosophers like Ibn Sina had incorporated into their scholarly work, which was now available to the Europeans for the first time, so to speak, that would prove to be an explosive "intellectual bombshell." In other words, they learned from the Muslims (and this is the second critical element) rationalism, combined with, in Burke's words "the secular, investigative approach typical of Arab natural science,” that is, the scientific experimental method (1995:42).[7]Pedersen (1997:116) makes the same point in his analysis of the factors that led to the development of the studium generale and from it the modern university: "To recreate Greek mathematics and science from the basic works was obviously out of the question, since even the knowledge of how to do research had passed into oblivion....That the study of the exact sciences did not end in a blind alley, was due to a completely different stream of culture now spilling out of [Islamic] civilization into the Latin world."
The third critical element was an elaborate and intellectually sophisticated map of scientific knowledge. The Muslims provided the Europeans a body of knowledge that was already divided into a host of academic subjects in a way that was very unfamiliar to the medieval Europeans: "medicine, astrology, astronomy, pharmacology, psychology, physiology, zoology, biology, botany, mineralogy, optics, chemistry, physics, mathematics, algebra, geometry, trigonometry, music, meteorology, geography, mechanics, hydrostatics, navigation and history." (Burke, 1995:42) The significance of this map of knowledge is that the European university, as de Libera (1997) observes, became its institutional embodiment. As he states: "The Muslim learning that was translated and passed on to the West formed the basis and the scientific foundation of the university in its living reality ? the reality of its syllabus, the content of its teaching." In other words, the highly restrictive and shallow curriculum of Martianus Capella's Seven Liberal Arts (divided into the trivium and the quadrivium), which the Carthaginian had promulgated sometime in the middle of the 5th century AD to become, in time, the foundation of Latin education in the cathedral schools--the forerunners of the studium generale--would now be replaced by the much broader curriculum of ‘Islamic’ derived educationIt ought to be noted here that the curriculum of the medieval universities was primarily based on the teaching of science; and it was even more so, paradoxically, than it is in the modern universities of today! The fact that this was the case, however, it would be no exaggeration to state, was entirely due to Islam! As Grant (1994), for example, shows, the growth of the medieval European universities was a direct response to the Greco-Islamic science that arrived in Europe after the fall of Toledo (see also Grant, 1996; Nakosteen, 1964; and Stanton, 1990).
The fourth was the extrication of the individual from the grip of what de Libera describes as the "medieval world of social hierarchies, obligations and highly codified social roles," so as to permit the possibility of a civil society, without which no university was possible. A university could only come into being on the basis of a community of scholars who were individuals in their own right, intellectually unbeholden to no one but reason, but yet gathered together in pursuit of one ideal: "the scientific ideal, the ideal of shared knowledge, of a community of lives based on the communication of knowledge and on the joint discovery of the reality of things...." In other words, universities "...were laboratories in which the notion of the European individual was invented. The latter is always defined as someone who strikes a balance between culture, freedom and enterprise, someone who has the capacity to show initiative and innovate. As it happens, and contrary to a widely held view, this new type of person came into being at the heart of the medieval university world, prompted by the notion ? which is not Greek but [Muslim] ? that [scientific] work liberates." (de Libera, 1997.)
A fifth critical element was that the arrival of Islamic inspired scholarship, such as that of Averroes (Ibn Rushd), helped to extricate the curriculum from the theological oversight of the Church. In the struggle over the teaching of"Averroeism" in the academy, for example, the academy triumphed and the Church retreated behind the compromise that there would be two forms of knowledge: divine or revealed knowledge that could not be challenged, and temporal knowledge that could go its separate way. Henceforth, academic freedom in terms of what was taught and learned became an ever increasing reality, jealously guarded by the academy. The implications of this development cannot be overstated: it would unfetter the pursuit of scientific inquiry from the shackles of religious dogma and thereby help set in motion the Scientific Revolution to come (see also Benoit, 1995).
Yet, this is not all: in laying out these very specific avenues of Islamic contribution to the growth of the modern Western university, however, one risks being blinded to an even more fundamental Islamic contribution: its assistance in the development of the civilizational context that facilitated the emergence of the modern university in Europe in the first place: European modernity itself! To elaborate: the modern Western university emerged as a corporate institution at precisely the time (in the latter half of the twelfth century and in the first half of the thirteenth century)when Western Europe was about to undergo the Renaissance. But the critical question here is this: how had Europe managed to developmentally come this far? After all, when the Muslims made their appearance in Europe in the 8th century AD, Europe was in almost every way a Neolithic cultural, economic, intellectual, technological and demographic backwater.[8] The answer, in one word, is: Islam! The Islamic civilization--which one must be reminded is primarily an Afro-Asian civilization--helped to create the civilizational context in Europe that produced the studium generale and thence the modern university.[9]
The essential truth really is this: that while to many in the West today it will come as a major shock to learn that the birth of Modern Europe has a great deal to do with the birth of Islam; in fact, it would not be an exaggeration to say that European modernity itself could, probably, not have come about without the agency of the Islamic Civilization. How so? Through the Muslim invasions of Spain in the 8th century and Italy in the 9th century, and later through the Crusades against the Muslims unleashed by Europe at turn of the 11th century (that would last, if one includes the final stages of the Spanish Reconquista--the fall of Granada in 1492--well into the 15th century), Europe would learn much from the Islamic Civilization that would prove absolutely decisive.[10] So much so, that it would help propel Europe toward the RenaissanceScientific Revolution (marking the beginning of Europe's journey to modernity) and, in time, indirectly, through the Andalusian Jewish Diaspora (who had done so well in Muslim Spain, but who with its fall would be forced to disperse by the Spanish Inquisition), the Enlightenment itself; and furthermore, even in the later stages of European transformations represented by the emergence of mercantile capitalism and the industrial revolution, Islam would have a hand to play, though perhaps less directly. Given, however, the animosity that Christianity has always displayed toward Islam, and which continues to the present, this immeasurable debt that Europe owes to the Islamic Civilization remains unacknowledged in the West of today??except among the learned few in the academic community.[11] and the
Now, evidentiary support for this claim about Islam’s critical role in Europe's journey to modernity during the period 8th through13th century—which, not coincidentally, is also the classical period of Islamic higher learning—is of course necessary here. However, because of space limitation, this task must regrettably be, perforce, cursory. The first and most important point is that without Islam Europe would not have become Europe, psychologically, culturally and geographically, but rather would have remained a fratricidally riven heterogeniety of perhaps little consequence for centuries to come. Islam created for Western Europe the feared and despised 'other' as the basis for its eventual genesis as the European center of gravity was forced to move, as a result of Muslim conquests, from the classical Mediterranean to Francia and the Rhineland. The process began with the 'Carolingian Renaissance' that had its roots in the defeat of the Muslims at the hands of the grandfather of Charlemagne, Charles Martel (already mentioned above) and ended in the inauguration of Europeanized Christendom in the wake of the Schism of 1054 under Pope Leo IX and the unleashing of the Crusades against the Muslims at the behest of Pope Urban II (the call went out on November 27, 1095 in Clermont, France)[12] In fact, one may go so far as to suggest that it is because of the arrival of Islam on to the stage of human history that the East/ West continuum became a dichotomy.[13]
Second, Islam enabled Europe to reacquaint itself with its Greek and Alexandrian classical roots--in terms of knowledge and learning. Since this has already been noted above, no more need be said here other than this: It is not that Europe had completely lost all the classical texts as a result of the depredations of the Germanic barbarians (4th to 5th centuries AD); the destructions of ancient places of learning by Christian zealots (such as Justinian I who, for example, in 6th century AD ordered the closure of the famous Academy of Athens founded by Plato in 4th century BC); and the vandalism of the Viking predators (9th to 11th century AD); a few of the texts had survived in the monasteries--but that is where the rub was. The monasteries, enthralled by Augustinian neoplatonist teachings (knowledge based on the material was of no consequence compared to that derived from the spiritual), to all intents and purposes, simply sat on these texts; moreover, the fact that the studium generale was not linked to the monastic schools in lineage also meant that whatever classical knowledge had been preserved by the monks was, for the most part, unavailable to the emerging academy.[14]
Third, Europe experienced a scientific and technological revolution that involved a critical Islamic role--without which it is doubtful that the Europeans would have experienced this revolution at all, in terms of magnitude and significance.
Now, before proceeding any further a pause is necessary here in order to point out this irony: in a world that is so heavily dominated by science and technology, there is, to one's chagrin, so little interest (relatively speaking) in researching and writing about the history of science and technology among scientists--the people best qualified to undertake this work--mainly because of the feeling among them that it is work that belongs to humanists. Though going by Turner (1990:23), however, it would appear that the problem goes evendeeper: many working scientists regard the study of the history of science as “some kind of intellectual weakness, or as an occupation suitable for ageing members of the profession who have lost their flair and are being put out to grass, a phase of life for which one scientist coined the pejorative term ‘philopause.’” Yet, on the other hand, among the humanists, too, interest in the subject is tardy, primarily because of a lack of confidence--not unjustified since few have the necessary science background. The outcome of this inadvertent academic 'stalemate' is that adequate and thorough investigations of histories of science and technology remain to be written, most especially in circumstances where tracing the roots and origins of scientific and technological discoveries require simultaneous multi-cultural, trans-geographic foci (e.g. China, India, Persia, etc.)[15] After all, when it comes to Islamic science, for example, it must be recognized that it was the first truly international science that the world had ever witnessed, as Turner (1995) points out.
Nevertheless, there exists enough histories of science to give one at least a fair if not complete picture of the role of Islam in the genesis of Europe’s Scientific Revolution. This role--which it must be reiterated was not always exclusively Muslim in origin (a point already hinted at above), but was most certainly mediated by the Islamic civilization--took the form of the introduction to the Latin West of essential scientific concepts, methods and knowledge, a glimpse of which has already been provided at some length above. As Huff (1993:13) succinctly puts it: “…modern science is the product of intercivilizational encounters, including, but not limited to, the interaction between Arabs, Muslims and Christians, but also other ‘dialogues between the living and the dead’ involving Greeks, Arabs and Europeans.”[16] Consider this fact: if one were to insist on a clear marker for the beginning of the Scientific Revolution in Europe than the prime candidate has to be the emergence of heliocentricism (a la Copernicus) in the middle of the 16th century. Yet, everything, in terms of data, that the Copernican revolution was predicated on was acquired directly and indirectly from Islamic astronomers; they had already amassed this data centuries before.[17]
Of course, it is true that the Islamic scholars did not make the final leap--for a number of reasons, including misguided theology--it is the Europeans who instead did.[18] However, that does not detract from the fact that without the import of Greco-Arabic science into Western Europe that was facilitated by the systematic translations of Islamic scientific scholarship (an exercise that, recall, was itself an echo of another systematic translation effort—Greek scholarship into Arabic—organized some three hundred years earlier by the Muslims), the European Scientific Revolution may not have emerged at the time it did, if at all! One should be reminded here of the fact that it is in the area of science, perhaps more than in any other area of human endeavor, that the following rule holds true: the future is always a product of the present, just as the present is always a product of the past. To put it another way: all scientific progress rests on existing science which rests on past science.[19] As Dorn (1991), Grant (1984), Huff (1993), Turner (1995) and others have correctly pointed out: “The translations of Greco-Arabic science, with Aristotle’s natural books forming the core,” to quote Grant, “laid the foundation for the continuous development of science to the present…” This is because, to quote Grant again: “Without the translations, which furnished a well articulated body of theoretical science to Western Europe, the great scientists of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, such as Copernicus, Galileo, Descartes and Newton, would have had little to reflect upon and reject, little that could focus their attention on significant physical problems.” What is more, he notes: “The overthrow of one world system by another does not imply a lack of continuity.” (pp. 91-92.)
Fourth, through the agency of Islam, Europe was introduced to a range of technological artifacts and methods derived from within the Islamic empire, as well as from without (from such places as China and India), that would be the basis of European technological advancement in a number of key areas; examples would include: the abacus, the astrolabe, the compass, paper-making, the pointed vaulted arch, gun powder, silk-production, sugar cane production and sugar-making, the lateen sail (allowed a ship to sail into wind more efficiently than a regular square sail common on European ships). In other words, consider this: four of the most important technological advancements that would be foundational to the development of a modern Europe (navigation, warfare, communication and plantation agriculture) had their roots outside Europe, in the East! Reference here, is, of course, to the compass; gunpowder; paper-making and printing (that is, block printing and printing with movable type); and cane sugar production. All these technologies first originated in China and then slowly found their way to the West through the mediation of the Muslims.[20] Along the way, of course, the Muslims improved on them.
Fifth, Islam introduced Europe to international commerce on a scale it had never experiencedbefore. The twin factors of geographic breadth of the Islamic empire (which included regions with long traditions of commerce going back to antiquity, such as the Mediterranean Basin) and the acceptance of commerce as a legitimate occupational endeavor for Muslims—one that had been pursued by no less than Prophet Muhammed himself—had created a vast and truly global long-distance trade unmatched by any civilization hitherto. In fact, the reach of the Islamic dominated commercial network was such that it would embrace points as far apart as China and Italy on the east-west axis and Scandinavia and the deepest African hinterland on the north-south axis, with the result that the tonnage and variety of cargo carried by this network went far beyond that witnessed by even Greece and Rome in their heyday (Turner, 1995:117).
Recall that the wealth of the Italian city-states like Venice and Genoa (the latter being the birthplace of Christopher Columbus, it may be noted) in Medieval Europe rested to a considerable degree on trade in Eastern luxury commodities obtained through Muslim intermediaries in places such as Alexandria. Consider the list of commodities that Europe received from the East (including Africa) through the agency of the Islamic merchants: coffee, cotton, fruits and vegetables of the type that medieval Europe had never known (e.g. almonds, apricots, bananas, egg-plants, figs, lemons, oranges, peaches), gold, paper, porcelain, rice, silk, spices (these were especially important in long distance trade and they included cardamom, cinnamon, cloves, coriander, cumin, ginger, nutmeg, pepper, saffron and turmeric), sugar cane, and so on. (The last is of special historical significance, sadly, considering the ignominious role it would play in the genesis of the Atlantic slave trade.) What is more, with the exception of a few items such as gold, silk, and some spices like cinnamon and saffron, Medieval Europe had not even known of the existence of most of these products prior to the arrival of Islam!
In other words: the Islamic civilization, through its commercial network, introduced Europe, often for the first time, to a wide range of Eastern consumer products (the variety and quantity of which was further magnified via the agency of the Crusades) that whet the appetite of the Europeans for more—not surprisingly, they felt compelled to undertake their voyages of exploration, a la Vasco da Gama and Christopher Columbus. This quest for an alternative trade-route to the east—one that would have to be sea-borne—was, of course, also a function of the desire to bypass the very people who had introduced them to the Eastern commodities they so eagerly sought: the Muslim intermediaries, their hated enemies,who straddled the land-bridge between the East and the West and who at the same time held a monopoly over this ever increasingly important and obscenely profitable East/West trade.[21]
Yet, the European commercial debt to Islam goes even deeper! For, as Fernand Braudel (1982) reminds one in volume 2 of his three volume magnum opus (grandly but appropriately titled Civilization and Capitalism: 15th-18th Century), a number of critical elements of European long distance trade were of Islamic origin; such as the ‘bill of exchange,’ the commenda (a partnership of merchants), etc. In fact, the very practice of long distance trade itself was an Islamic borrowing, Braudel further points out (p. 559). Now, without long-distance trade, it is quite unlikely that Europe would have experienced the rise of mercantile capitalism (and thence industrial capitalism); for, while such trade may not be a sufficient condition for its development, it is a necessary condition. Of course, it is not that Europe had never engaged in long-distance trade before—consider the commercial activities of the Greeks and the Romans—but, like so many other things, it was reintroduced to them by the Islamic civilization, since the Europeans had, for all intents and purposes, ‘lost’ it over the centuries with their retrogressive descent into the post-Alaric world of the Germanic dominated European ‘Middle Ages’.[22] On the basis of these observations, Braudel, is compelled to remark: “To admit the existence of these borrowings means turning one’s back on traditional accounts of the history of the West as pioneering genius, spontaneous inventor, journeying alone along the road towards scientific and technical rationality. It means denying the claim of the medieval Italian city-states to have invented the instruments of modern commercial life. And it logically culminates in denying the Roman empire its role as the cradle of progress.” (p. 556)
Conclusion
Clearly, then: on one hand, through the Islamic mediated introduction to Europe of such intellectual and material artifacts ranging from the mathematical concept of zero and Arabic numerals to paper and paper making, from cane?sugar and cane?sugar production (which, via the Americas, would in time be foundational to the accumulation of capital necessary for the launching of the industrial revolution) to silk production, from navigation instruments like the astrolabe to the pointed vaulted arch in architecture, from paper money to the abacus; and on the other, the geographic and cultural containment of Europe beginning in the 8th century, Islam came to play a critical role in the genesis of European modernity. In other words, it was a role that was critical enough to permit Europe to emerge from the self-engendered, nearly six hundred year, somnambulist interregnum of the ‘Middle Ages’ (a period that, recall, historians of the past had often referred to as the ‘Dark Ages’—not entirely without reason.) The Islamic civilization was a scientific, technological and cultural bridge in terms of, both, time (between the ancient and the modern) and geography (between the East and the West). Moreover, it was not a passive bridge but an active one, without which it is highly unlikely that Europe could have crossed over from barbarism into modernity, as early as it did—if at all![23]
Now, to the extent, then, that Islam is an Afro-Asian civilization, both the Western civilization in general and one of its progeny in specific, the modern university, have a significant part of their roots within Africa and Asia. This is not to deny, of course, the immense significance of the Latin contribution too, to the development of the modern university (which is well attested to by Hull, 1993, among others).The critical point here, however, is this: to say that the modern university is an entirely Western invention is to assert only partial truth; not the whole truth. The whole truth is that the modern ‘Western’ university—like so many other things that Westerners have so stridently claimed as their very own creations--is the product of the Islamic mediated intersection ofthree major civilizations: the Greek, the Islamic and the Latin. (Yet, even this can not constitute the whole truth! Why? Because each of these civilizations, in turn, in their genesis, incorporated contributions from other civilizations as well: Mesopotamian, Babylonian, Egyptian, Persian, East Indian, Chinese, etc.) Any view to the contrary, is simply an echo--albeit a recurrent one--of the narrow minded, super ethnocentric perspective of the early Western European Christians who in their tirades against Muslims, Jews and others often forgot that even the religion that they thought was their very own did not originate from within Europe, but came from the East. They refused then, as even their descendents of today refuse, to observe, for example, this simple fact: that Christ was not a European at all! But, then, when has universal historical memory ever been secure from being hijacked by those with the power to do so, for iniquitous ends?
However…, however…, not withstanding everything that has been said above, one is compelled to conclude with this point: in the final analysis, the fundamental question is really this: Does it really matter who created the first universities? (Or, for that matter: who were the first astronomers? The first mathematicians? The first scientists? And so on.) It matters only if one wishes to deny the commonality of all humanity in which every ethnic variation of human kind has made some contribution at some point (even if only at the most rudimentary level of inadvertent domestication of plant and/or animal life) to the totality of the modern human experience. For all its proclamation of the virtues of ‘civilization’ (to be understood here in its normative sense) this denial has been, sadly, as much a project of the West as its other, laudable, endeavors--for reasons that, of course, one does not have to be a rocket scientist to fathom: world domination under the aegis of various forms of imperialism (an endeavor that, even now in the twenty first century, most regrettably, has yet to see its demise).
Consequently, under these circumstances, the true historian is burdened by constant vigilance against this Western intellectual tradition of erasure of universal historical memory and thereby render irrelevant the contributions of others. Moreover, one must be cognizant of the fact that it is a tradition that relies on a number of techniques: the most direct of which is ‘scholarly silence’--where there is a complete (or almost complete) absence of any acknowledgement of a contribution. However, given the obvious transparency of this technique, it has increasingly been replaced by one that is more subtle (hence of greater intractability): achieving erasure not by a total lack of acknowledgement, but by the method of token acknowledgement where the object of the erasure is mentioned in passing and then promptly dismissed from further consideration—even in instances of ongoing relevance.
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