Al-Ghazâlî (c.1056–1111) was one of themost prominent and influential philosophers, theologians, jurists, andmystics of Sunni Islam. He was active at a time when Sunni theologyhad just passed through its consolidation and entered a period ofintense challenges from Shiite Ismâ’îlite theologyand the Arabic tradition of Aristotelian philosophy(falsafa). Al-Ghazâlî understood the importanceoffalsafa and developed a complex response that rejected andcondemned some of its teachings, while it also allowed him to acceptand apply others. Al-Ghazâlî’s critique of twentypositions offalsafa in hisIncoherence of thePhilosophers (Tahâfut al-falâsifa) is asignificant landmark in the history of philosophy as it advances thenominalist critique of Aristotelian science developed later in 14thcentury Europe. On the Arabic and Muslim sideal-Ghazâlî’s acceptance of demonstration(apodeixis) led to a much more refined and precise discourseon epistemology and a flowering of Aristotelian logics andmetaphysics. With al-Ghazâlî begins the successfulintroduction of Aristotelianism or rather Avicennism into Muslimtheology. After a period of appropriation of the Greek sciences in thetranslation movement from Greek into Arabic and the writings of thefalâsifa up to Avicenna (Ibn Sînâ,c.980–1037), philosophy and the Greek sciences were“naturalized” into the discourse ofkalâmand Muslim theology (Sabra 1987). Al-Ghazâlî’sapproach to resolving apparent contradictions between reason andrevelation was accepted by almost all later Muslim theologians andhad, via the works of Averroes (Ibn Rushd, 1126–98) and Jewishauthors, a significant influence on Latin medieval thinking.
Later Muslim medieval historians say that Abû HâmidMuhammad ibn Muhammad al-Ghazâlî was born in 1058 or 1059in Tabarân-Tûs (15 miles north of modern Meshed, NE Iran),yet notes about his age in his letters and his autobiography indicatethat he was born in 1055 or 1056 (Griffel 2009, 23–25).Al-Ghazâlî received his early education in his hometown ofTus together with his brother Ahmad (c.1060–1123 or1126) who became a famous preacher and Sufi scholar. Muhammad went onto study with the influential Ash’arite theologianal-Juwaynî (1028–85) at the Nizâmiyya Madrasa innearby Nishapur. This brought him in close contact with the court ofthe Grand-Seljuq Sultan Malikshâh (reg. 1071–92) and hisgrand-vizier Nizâm al-Mulk (1018–92). In 1091 Nizâmal-Mulk appointed al-Ghazâlî to the prestigiousNizâmiyya Madrasa in Baghdad. In addition to being a confidanteof the Seljuq Sultan and his court in Isfahan, he now became closelyconnected to the caliphal court in Baghdad. He was undoubtedly themost influential intellectual of his time, when in 1095 he suddenlygave up his posts in Baghdad and left the city. Under the influence ofSufi literature al-Ghazâlî had begun to change hislifestyle two years before his departure (Griffel 2009, 67). Herealized that the high ethical standards of a virtuous religious lifeare not compatible with being in the service of sultans, viziers, andcaliphs. Benefiting from the riches of the military and politicalelite implies complicity in their corrupt and oppressive rule and willjeopardize one’s prospect of redemption in the afterlife. Whenal-Ghazâlî left Baghdad in 1095 he went to Damascus andJerusalem and vowed at the tomb of Abraham in Hebron never again toserve the political authorities or teach at state-sponsored schools.He continued to teach, however, at small schools (singl.zâwiya) that were financed by private donations. Afterperforming the pilgrimage in 1096, al-Ghazâlî returned viaDamascus and Baghdad to his hometown Tûs, where he founded asmall private school and a Sufi convent(khânqâh). In 1106, at the beginning of the 6thcentury in the Muslim calendar, al-Ghazâlî broke his vowand returned to teaching at the state-sponsored NizâmiyyaMadrasa in Nishapur, where he himself had been a student. To hisfollowers he justified this step with the great amount of theologicalconfusion among the general public and pressure from authorities atthe Seljuq court (al-Ghazâlî 1959a, 45–50 = 2000b,87–93). Al-Ghazâlî regarded himself as one of therenewers (singl.muhyî) of religion, who, according toahadîth, will come every new century. In Nishapur,al-Ghazâlî’s teaching activity at theNizâmiyya madrasa led to a controversy that was triggered byopposition to his teachings, particularly those in his most widelyread work,The Revival of the Religious Sciences, and byaccusations that these show a distinct influence fromfalsafa. Al-Ghazâlî was summoned to defendhimself in front of the Seljuq governor Sanjar (d. 1157). The latter,however, acquitted him from all charges and supported his teachingactivity in Nishapur (Garden 2014: 143–168). On this occasion,al-Ghazâlî again asked to be released from his obligationsat the Nizâmiyya madrasa, a request that was denied. All thistime, he continued to teach at hiszâwiya in Tûswhere he died in December 1111 (Griffel 2009, 20–59).
After having already made a name for himself as a competent author oflegal works, al-Ghazâlî published around 1095 a number ofbooks where he addresses the challenges posed byfalsafa andby the theology of the Ismâ’îlite Shiites. Themovement offalsafa (from Greek:philosophía)resulted from the translation of Greek philosophical and scientificliterature into Arabic from the 8th to the early 10th centuries. TheArabic philosophers (falâsifa) were heirs to thelate-antique tradition of understanding the works of Aristotle inNeoplatonic terms. In philosophy the translators from Greek intoArabic focused on the works of Aristotle and although some distinctlyNeoplatonic texts were translated into Arabic—most notably thepseudo-AristotelianTheology, a compilation fromPlotinus’Enneads—the most significantNeoplatonic contributions reached the Arabs by way of commentaries onthe works of the Stagirite (Wisnovsky 2003, 15).Falsafa wasa movement where Christians, Muslims, and even pagan authorsparticipated. After the 12th century it would also include Jewishauthors. For reasons that will become apparent, al-Ghazâlîfocused his comments on the Muslimfalâsifa. In theearly 10th century al-Fârâbî (d. 950) had developeda systemic philosophy that challenged key convictions held by Muslimtheologians, most notably the creation of the world in time and theoriginal character of the information God reveals to prophets.Following Aristotle, al-Fârâbî taught that the worldhas no beginning in the past and that the celestial spheres, forinstance, move from pre-eternity. Prophets and the revealed religionsthey bring articulate the same insights that philosophers express intheir teachings, yet the prophets use the method of symbolization tomake this wisdom more approachable for the ordinary people. Avicennacontinued al-Fârâbî’s approach and developedhis metaphysics and his prophetology to a point where it offerscomprehensive explanations of God’s essence and His actions aswell as a psychology that gives a detailed account of how prophetsreceive their knowledge and how they, for instance, perform miraclesthat confirm their missions. Avicenna’s philosophy offersphilosophical explanations of key Muslim tenets like God’s unity(tawhîd) and the central position of prophets amonghumans.
In his autobiography al-Ghazâlî writes that during histime at the Baghdad Nizâmiyya he studied the works of thefalâsifa for two years before he wrote hisIncoherence of the Philosophers in a third year(Ghazâlî 1959a, 18 = 2000b, 61). It is hardly credible,however, that al-Ghazâlî began to occupy himself withfalsafa only after he became professor at the Nizâmiyyain Baghdad. This account is apologetic and aims to reject the claim ofsome of his critics that he had learnedfalsafa before hisown religious education was complete. Most probably he had becomeacquainted withfalsafa while studying with al-Juwaynî,whose works already show an influence from Avicenna.Al-Ghazâlî’s response to Aristotelianism, theIncoherence of the Philosophers, is a masterwork ofphilosophical literature and may have been decades in the making. Itis accompanied by works where al-Ghazâlî provides faithfulreports of the philosophers’ teachings. Two of those works havecome down to us. The first is an almost complete fragment of a longbook where al-Ghazâlî copies or paraphrases passages fromthe works of philosophers and combines them to a comprehensive reportabout their teachings in metaphysics (Griffel 2006, al-Akiti 2009).The fragment unfortunately bears no title. The second work, theDoctrines of the Philosophers (Maqâsidal-falâsifa, on the translation of the title see Shihadeh2011, 90–92), is a loosely adapted Arabic translation of theparts on logics, metaphysics, and the natural sciences inAvicenna’s Persian workPhilosophy for‘Alâ’ al-Dawla (Dânishnamah-yiAlâ’î) (Janssens 1986). Previously it has beenassumed that theDoctrines of the Philosophers was written asa preparatory study to his major work, theIncoherence. Thiscan no longer be upheld. Both reports of al-Ghazâlî standonly in a very loose connection to the text of theIncoherence ofthe Philosophers. TheIncoherence and theDoctrines use different terminologies and the latter presentsits material in ways that does not support the criticism in theIncoherence (Janssens 2003, 43–45). TheDoctrinesof the Philosophers may have been a text that was initiallyunconnected to theIncoherence or that was generated afterthe composition of the latter. Only its introduction and its briefexplicit create a connection to the refutation in theIncoherence. These parts were almost certainly written (oradded) after the publication of theIncoherence (Janssens2003, 45; Griffel 2006, 9–10).
The Doctrines of the Philosophers was translated into Latinin the third quarter of the 12th century and into Hebrew first in 1292and at least another two times within the next fifty years. Thesetranslations enjoyed much more success than the Arabic original.Whereas in Arabic, numerous books that follow a similar goal ofpresenting (and soon also improving) Avicenna’s philosophicalsystem were composed during the 12th and 13th centuries, none of themwere translated into Latin and very few became available in Hebrew. Inthe Latin as well as in the Hebrew traditions, translations ofTheDoctrines of the Philosophers overshadowed all ofal-Ghazâlî’s other writings. The Latin translation,sometimes referred to asSumma theoricae philosophiae or asLogica et philosophia Algazelis, was the only book byal-Ghazâlî translated during the period of thetransmission of Arabic philosophy to Christian Europe (the part onlogic is edited in Lohr 1965, the two remaining parts on metaphysicsand the natural sciences in al-Ghazâlî 1933). It wastranslated by Dominicus Gundisalivi (Gundissalinus, d.c.1190) of Toledo in collaboration with someone referred to as“Magister Iohannes” (d. 1215), also known as IohannesHispanus (or Hispalensis), probably an Arabized Christian (a Mozarab),who was dean at the cathedral of Toledo in the 1180s and 1190s(Burnett 1994). The two translators seem to have omitted the shortintroduction and theexplicit where the work is described asan uncommitted report of thefalâsifa’steachings. A small number of Latin manuscripts show signs that thistranslation was revised during the 13th century (Lohr 1965, 229) andin one case they preserve a Latin rendition ofal-Ghazâlî’s original introduction (edited in Salman1935, 125–27). That, however, had next to no influence on thetext’s reception (Salman 1935), and the version that circulatedamong readers of Latin does not include al-Ghazâlî’sdistancing statements (al-Ghazâlî 1506). The book thusconcealed its character as a report of Avicenna’s teachings andits author “Algazel” was considered a faithful follower ofAvicenna who had produced a masterful compendium of the latter’sphilosophy. During the late 12th, the 13th, and the 14th centuries theSumma theoricae philosophiae was a principal source on theteachings of the Arabic philosophers in books by authors like Albertthe Great (d. 1280) and Thomas Aquinas (d. 1274) that were essentialto the development of the Latin philosophical tradition. The work wasstill used sporadically in the 15h century and even more often in the16th century (Minnema 2014; Alonso 1958; d’Alverny 1986).Al-Ghazâlî’s identification as one of them isusually attributed to the limited knowledge of Latin scholars aboutmatters relating to the authors of the texts they read. Theassumption, however, that theDoctrines of the Philosophersis not merely a report of the teachings of thefalâsifabut rather represents al-Ghazâlî’s genuine positionsin philosophy is not limited to the Latin tradition. There are Arabicmanuscripts that attribute a text that is quite similar to theDoctrines of the Philosophers to al-Ghazâlîwithout mentioning that the teachings therein are an uncommittedreport. The oldest of these manuscripts was produced at the beginningof the 13th century at Maraghah, an important center of scholarship inNW Iran and is available in facsimile (Pourjavady 2002, 2–62).It shows that also in the Arabic tradition, the positions reported intheDoctrines of the Philosophy were closely associated withal-Ghazâlî. The “mis-identification” ofal-Ghazâlî as a follower of Avicenna may have its roots inan attitude among some Arabic readers of al-Ghazâlî whosaw in him a closer follower of thefalâsifa than themainstream Arabic tradition wished to acknowledge.
In its several Hebrew versions, al-Ghazâlî’sDoctrines of the Philosophers (known asDe’ôtha-fîlôsôfîm andKavvanôtha-fîlôsôfîm) was one of the mostwidespread philosophical texts studied among Jews in Europe(Steinschneider 1893, 1:296–326; Harvey 2001). The translator ofthe first Hebrew version of 1292, the Jewish Averroist Isaac Albalag,attached his own introduction and extensive notes to the text (Vajda1960). This and the other two Hebrew translations attracted a greatnumber of commentators, including Moses Narboni (d. 1362), who wasactive in southern France and Spain, and Moses Almosnino (d.c.1580) of Thessalonica (Steinschneider 1893,1:311–25). Al-Ghazâlî’sDoctrines of thePhilosophers was a very popular text up to the 16th century andover 75 manuscripts of the Hebrew translations are extant (Eran 2007,Harvey 2015: 289). Some Jewish scholars, like the 14th century KatalanHasdai Crescas, saw in this Avicennan text a welcome alternative tothe equally widespread teachings of Averroes (Harvey and Harvey 2002;Harvey 2015: 300–302). In fact, by the 15th century the Hebrewversion of al-Ghazâlî’sDoctrines of thePhilosophers may have replaced Averroes as the most popularsource among Jews for the study of the Aristotelian natural sciences(Harvey 2015: 289). Although the Hebrew translations make thecharacter of the work as a report clear, al-Ghazâlîwas—as in the Latin tradition—regarded as a much closerfollower offalsafa than in the mainstream Arabic tradition.The Hebrew tradition, for instance, makes widely available thetranslation of a text ascribed to al-Ghazâlî where theauthor responds to questions about astronomy and cosmology that arequite far from Ash’arism and much closer to Aristotelianism(Langermann 2011). This relatively widespread Hebrew text (edited andtranslated in al-Ghazâlî 1896), referred to asTeshuvôt she’alôt, “Answers toQuestions,” or more recently as the “HebrewAjwiba,” exists in eleven Hebrew manuscripts (Harvey2015: 298). Its Arabic original is known only from a very small numberof manuscripts, among them the one from Maraghah (Pourjavady 2002,63–99). Accounts saying that al-Ghazâlî taughtphilosophical positions he had openly condemned in hisIncoherence were relatively widespread in Hebrew literature(Marx 1935, 410, 422–24). Moses Narboni, for instance, believedthat al-Ghazâlî used a stratagem to teach philosophy at atime when it was, according to Narboni, officially prohibited. Bypretending to refute philosophy in hisIncoherence he couldjustify the writing of theDoctrines. TheDoctrinesis therefore the main work on philosophy by al-Ghazâlî,Narboni suspected, while theIncoherence serves only thefunction of legitimizing the former’s publication by saying thata refutation must rely on a thorough knowledge of what is to berefuted (Chertoff 1952, part 2, 6–7). This tendency among Hebrewauthors to disentangle al-Ghazâlî from the criticism ofphilosophy expressed in hisIncoherence led the AlgerianJewish scholar Abraham Gavison (fl. 16th cent.) to report erroneouslythat al-Ghazâlî was the author of bothTheIncoherence of the Philosophers as well as its repudiationThe Incoherence of the Incoherence (Tahâfutal-tahâfut), a work in reality written by Averroes (Gavison1748, fol. 135a). In addition to hisDoctrines, hisIncoherence, which was translated in 1411, and the text knownasTeshuvôt she’alôt (whose ascription toal-Ghazâlî is doubtful), at least two other works byal-Ghazâlî were translated into Hebrew:Mishkâtal-anwâr andMîzân al-’amal(Steinschneider 1893, 1:326–48, the textMozneiha-’iyyunîm mentioned there is not byal-Ghazâlî).
Al-Ghazâlî describes theIncoherence of thePhilosophers as a “refutation” (radd) of thephilosophical movement (Ghazâlî 1959a, 18 = 2000b, 61),and this has contributed to the erroneous assumption that he opposedAristotelianism and rejected its teachings. His response tofalsafa was far more complex and allowed him to adopt many ofits teachings. Thefalâsifa are convinced,al-Ghazâlî complains at the beginning of theIncoherence, that their way of knowing by“demonstrative proof” (burhân) is superiorto theological knowledge drawn from revelation and its rationalinterpretation. This conviction led “a group” among theMuslimfalâsifa who disregard Islam and who neglect itsritual duties and its religious law (sharî’a). InhisIncoherence al-Ghazâlî discusses twenty keyteachings of thefalâsifa and rejects the claim thatthese teachings are demonstratively proven. In a detailed andintricate philosophical discussion al-Ghazâlî aims to showthat none of the arguments in favor of these twenty teachings fulfillsthe high epistemological standard of demonstration(burhân) that thefalâsifa have set forthemselves. Rather, the arguments supporting these twenty convictionsrely upon unproven premises that are accepted only among thefalâsifa, but are not established by reason. By showingthat these positions are supported by mere dialectical argumentsal-Ghazâlî aims to demolish what he regarded was anepistemological hubris on the side of thefalâsifa. IntheIncoherence he wishes to show that thefalâsifa practicetaqlîd, meaning theymerely repeat these teachings from the founders of their movementwithout critically examining them (Griffel 2005).
The initial argument of theIncoherence focuses onapodeixis and the demonstrative character of the argumentsrefuted therein. While the book also touches on the truth of theseteachings, it “refutes” numerous positions whose truthsal-Ghazâlî acknowledges or which he subscribed to in hislater works. In these cases al-Ghazâlî wishes to show thatwhile these particular philosophical teachings are sound and true,they are not demonstrated. The ultimate source of thefalâsifa’s knowledge about God’s nature,the human soul, or about the heavenly spheres, for instance, are therevelations given to early prophets such as Abraham and Moses. Theirinformation made it into the books of the ancient philosophers whofalsely claimed that they gained these insights by reason alone.
Among the twenty discussions of theIncoherence, sixteen areconcerned with positions held in thefalâsifa’smetaphysics (ilâhiyyât) and four with positionsthat appear in their natural sciences(tabî’iyyât). The 17th discussion oncausality will be analyzed below. The longest and most substantialdiscussion is the first, which deals with Avicenna’s andal-Fârâbî’s arguments in favor of theworld’s pre-eternity (Hourani 1958, Marmura 1959).Al-Ghazâlî denies that this position can bedemonstratively proven and draws from arguments that were earlierdeveloped by anti-Aristotelian critics such as the Christian JohnPhiloponus (Yahyâ l-Nahwî,c.490–c.570) of Alexandria. Philoponus’arguments, most importantly those that deny the possibility of aninfinite number of events in the past, had entered the Arabicdiscourse on the world’s creation earlier during the 9th century(Davidson 1987, 55–56, 86–116, 366–75).
At the end of theIncoherence al-Ghazâlî askswhether the twenty positions discussed in the book are in conflictwith the religious law (sharî’a). Most of themare wrong, he says, yet pose no serious problems in terms of religion,where they should be considered “innovations” (singl.bid’a). A small group of positions is considered wrongas well as religiously problematic. These are three teachings fromAvicenna’s philosophy, namely (1) that the world has nobeginning in the past and is not created in time, (2) that God’sknowledge includes only classes of beings (universals) and does notextend to individual beings and their circumstances (particulars), and(3) that after death the souls of humans will never again return intobodies. In these three cases the teachings of Islam, which are basedon revelation, suggest the opposite, al-Ghazâlî says, andthus overrule the unfounded claims of thefalâsifa.What’s more, these three teachings may mislead the public todisregarding the religious law (sharî’a) and are,therefore, dangerous for society (Griffel 2000, 301–3). In hisfunction as a Muslim jurisprudent al-Ghazâlî adds a brieffatwâ at the end of hisIncoherence anddeclares that everybody who teaches these three positions publicly isan unbeliever (kâfir) and an apostate from Islam, whocan be killed (al-Ghazâlî 2000a, 226).
Al-Ghazâlî’s efforts in dealing with thephilosophical movement amount to defining the boundaries of religioustolerance in Islam. Soon after theIncoherence, he wrote asimilar book about the movement of the Ismâ’îliteShiites, known as the “Bâtinites” (“those whoarbitrarily follow an inner meaning in the Qur’an”).Initially the Ismâ’îlite Shiites were supporters ofthe Fâtimid counter-caliphate in Cairo and opposed the politicaland religious authority of the Sunni caliph in Baghdad and the SeljuqSultans that he installed. During al-Ghazâlî’slifetime, however, there occurred a schism within the clandestineIsmâ’îlite movement. The “newpropaganda” of the Ismâ’îlites in Iraq andIran was now independent from the center in Cairo and developed itsown strategies. A key element of their—not entirelyunsuccessful—efforts to persuade people to their camp was theircriticism of sense perception and of rational arguments(al-Ghazâlî 1954, 34; 1964b, 76, 80).Al-Ghazâlî was closely familiar with theIsmâ’îlites’ propaganda efforts but did notalways have reliable information on their teachings on cosmology andmetaphysics. These were deeply influenced by cosmological notions inlate antique Gnostic and Neoplatonic literature (Walker 1993, de Smet1995). What information he got, al-Ghzâlî seems to havereceived from the Persian writings of the Ismâ’îlitepropagandist and philosopher Nâsir-i Khosrow (d.c.1075), who lived a generation earlier in Balkh in Khorasan and in theremote region of the Pamir Mountains (Andani 2017).Al-Ghazâlî, however, did not know about the schism withinthe movement. In his book on theScandals of the Esoterics(Fadâ’ih al-Bâtiniyya) he looks closely atthose teachings that he knew and discusses which of them are merelyerroneous and which are unbelief. He assumes—wrongly—thatthe Ismâ’îlite propagandists teach the existence oftwo gods. Yet this presentation is not so much a misunderstanding onthe side of al-Ghazâlî but rather a deliberatemisrepresentation, based on a long discourse ofanti-Ismâ’îlite polemics (Andani 2017: 193). Thisassumed dualism and the Ismâ’îlites’ denial ofbodily resurrection in the afterlife leads to their condemnation byal-Ghazâlî as unbelievers and apostates from Islam(al-Ghazâlî 1964b, 151–55 = 2000b,228–29).
In his attempt to define the boundaries of Islamal-Ghazâlî singles out a limited number of teachings thatin his opinion overstep the borders. In a separate book,TheDecisive Criterion for Distinguishing Islam from ClandestineUnbelief (Faysal al-tafriqa bayna l-Islâmwa-l-zandaqa) he clarifies that only teachings that violatecertain “fundamental doctrines” (usûlal-‘aqâ’id) should be deemed unbelief andapostasy. These doctrines are limited to three: monotheism,Muhammad’s prophecy, and the Qur’anic descriptions of lifeafter death (al-Ghazâlî 1961, 195 = 2002, 112). Hestresses that all other teachings, including those that are erroneousor even regarded as “religious innovations” (singl.bid’a), should be tolerated. Again other teachings maybe correct, al-Ghazâlî adds, and despite theirphilosophical background, for instance, should be accepted by theMuslim community. Each teaching must be judged by itself, and if foundsound and in accordance with revelation, should be adopted(al-Ghazâlî 1959a, 25–27 = 2000b, 67–70). Thisattitude leads to a widespread application of Aristotelian teachingsin al-Ghazâlî’s works on Muslim theology andethics.
Al-Ghazâlî’s refutations of thefalâsifa and the Ismâ’îlites have adistinctly political component. In both cases he fears that thefollowers of these movements as well as people with only a cursoryunderstanding of them might believe that they can disregard thereligious law (sharî’a). In the case of theIsmâ’îlites there was an additional theologicalmotive. In their religious propaganda theIsmâ’îlites openly challenged the authority of Sunnitheology, claiming its religious speculation and its interpretation ofscripture is arbitrary. The Sunni theologians submit God’s wordto judgments that appear to be reasonable, theIsmâ’îlites said, yet they are purely capricious, afact evident from the many disputes among Sunni theologians. Norational argument is more convincing than any of its opposing rationalarguments, the Ismâ’îlites claimed, since allrational proofs are mutually equivalent (takâfu’al-adilla). Only the divinely guided word of the Shiite Imamconveys certainty (al-Ghazâlî 1964b, 76, 80 = 2000b, 189,191). In response to this criticism al-Ghazâlî introducesthe Aristotelian notion of demonstration (burhân).Sunni theologians argue among each other, he says, because they arelargely unfamiliar with the technique of demonstration. Foral-Ghazâlî, reason (‘aql) is executed mostpurely and precisely by formulating arguments that are demonstrativeand reach a level where their conclusions are beyond doubt.Al-Ghazâlî wrote in one of his letters to a student thatlater circulated as an independent epistle: “A [valid] rationaldemonstration is never wrong” (Griffel 2015: 110–112).This also implies that the results of true demonstrations cannotconflict with revelation since neither reason nor revelation can beconsidered false. If demonstration proves something that violates theliteral meaning of revelation, the scholar must apply interpretation(ta’wîl) to the outward text and read it as asymbol of a deeper truth. There are, for instance, valid demonstrativearguments proving that God cannot have a “hand” or sit ona “throne.” These prompt the Muslim scholar to interpretthe Qur’anic passages where these words appear as symbols(al-Ghazâlî 1961, 175–89 = 2002, 96–103). Theinterpretation of passages in revelation, however, whose outwardmeaning is not disproved by a valid demonstration, is not allowed(Griffel 2000, 332–35; 2009, 111–16).
Al-Ghazâlî’s rule for reconciling apparent conflictsbetween reason and the literal meaning of revelation was widelyaccepted by almost all later Muslim theologians, particularly thosewith rationalist tendencies. Ibn Taymiyya (1263–1328), however,criticized al-Ghazâlî’s rule from an scriptualistangle. Ibn Taymiyya (1980, 1:86–87) rejectedal-Ghazâlî’s implication that in cases of conflictbetween reason and the revealed text, priority should be given to theformer over the latter. He also remarked thatal-Ghazâlî’s own arguments denying the possibilitythat God sits on a “throne” (Qur’an 2.255), forinstance, fail to be demonstrative. Ibn Taymiyya flatly denied thepossibility of a conflict between reason and revelation and maintainedthat the perception of such a disagreement results from subjectingrevelation to premises that revelation itself does not accept (Heer1993, 188–92).
On thefalâsifa’s side Averroes acceptedal-Ghazâlî’s rule for reconciling conflicts betweenreason and the outward meaning of revelation but he did not agree withhis findings on what can and cannot be demonstrated (Griffel 2000,437–61). Averroes composed a refutation ofal-Ghazâlî’sIncoherence, which he calledThe Incoherence of the [Book of the] Incoherence(Tahâfut al-tahâfut). This work was translatedtwice into Latin in 1328 and 1526, the later one on the basis of anearlier Hebrew translation of the text (Steinschneider 1893,1:330–38). The two Latin translations both have the titleDestructio destructionum (the later one is edited in Averroes1961). They were printed numerous times during the 16th century andmade al-Ghazâlî’s criticism of Aristotelianism knownamong the Averroists of the Renaissance. The Italian Agostino Nifo(c.1473– after 1538), for instance, wrote a Latincommentary to Averroes’ book. While accepting the principle thatonly a valid demonstration allows interpreting the Qur’ansymbolically, Averroes maintained that Aristotle had alreadydemonstrated the pre-eternity of the world, which would elevate it,according to al-Ghazâlî’s rules, to a philosophicalas well as religious doctrine. Averroes also remarked that there is nopassage in the Qur’an that unambiguously states the creation ofthe world in time (Averroes 2001, 16). Al-Ghazâlî wasclearly aware of this but assumed that this tenet is establishedthrough the consensus (ijmâ’) of Muslimtheologians (Griffel 2000, 278, 429–30; 2002, 58). Whileal-Ghazâlî condemns the pre-eternity of the world at theend of hisIncoherence of the Philosophers, the subject ofthe world’s pre-eternity is no longer raised in his later moresystematic work on the boundaries of Islam,TheDecisiveCriterion for Distinguishing Islam from Clandestine Unbelief.
Soon after al-Ghazâlî had published his two refutations offalsafa and Ismâ’îlism he left his positionat the Nizâmiyya madrasa in Baghdad. During this period he beganwriting what most Muslim scholars regard as his major work,TheRevival of the Religious Sciences (Ihyâ’‘ulûm al-dîn). The voluminousRevivalis a comprehensive guide to ethical behavior in the everyday life ofMuslims (Garden 2014: 63–122). It is divided into four sections, eachcontaining ten books. The first section deals with ritual practices(‘ibâdât), the second with social customs(‘âdât), the third with those things thatlead to perdition (muhlikât) and hence should beavoided, and the fourth with those that lead to salvation(munjiyât) and should be sought. In the forty books oftheRevival al-Ghazâlî severely criticizes thecoveting of worldly matters and reminds his readers that human life isa path towards Judgment Day and the reward or punishment gainedthrough it. Compared with the eternity of the next life, this life isalmost insignificant, yet it seals our fate in the world to come. Inhis autobiography al-Ghazâlî writes that reading Sufiliterature made him realize that our theological convictions are bythemselves irrelevant for gaining redemption in the afterlife. Not ourgood beliefs or intentions count; only our good and virtuous actionswill determine our life in the world to come. This insight promptedal-Ghazâlî to change his lifestyle and adopt the Sufi path(al-Ghazâlî 1959a, 35–38 = 2000b, 77–80). IntheRevival he composed a book about human actions(mu’âmalât) that wishes to steer clear ofany deeper discussion of theological insights(mukâshafât). Rather, it aims at guiding peopletowards ethical behavior that God will reward in this world and thenext (al-Ghazâlî 1937–38, 1:4–5).
In theRevival al-Ghazâlî attacks his colleaguesin Muslim scholarship, questioning their intellectual capacities andindependence as well as their commitment to gaining reward in theworld to come. This increased moral consciousness bringsal-Ghazâlî close to Sufi attitudes, which have a profoundinfluence on his subsequent works such asThe Niche of Lights(Mishkât al-anwâr). These later works also reveala significant philosophical influence on al-Ghazâlî. IntheRevival he teaches ethics that are based on thedevelopment of character traits (singl.,khulq, pl.akhlâq). Performing praiseworthy deeds is an effect ofpraiseworthy character traits that warrant salvation in the next life(al-Ghazâlî 1937–38, 1:34.4–5). He criticizesthe more traditional concept of Sunni ethics that is limited tocompliance with the ordinances of the religious law(sharî’a) and following the example of theProphet Muhammad. Traditional Sunni ethics are closely linked tojurisprudence (fiqh) and limit itself, according toal-Ghazâlî, to determining and teaching the rules ofsharî’a. Traditional Sunni jurisprudents are mere“scholars of this world” (‘ulamâ’al-dunyâ) who cannot guide Muslims on the best way to gainthe afterlife (al-Ghazâlî 1937–38, 1:30–38,98–140).
In his own ethics al-Ghazâlî stresses that theProphet—and no other teacher—should be the one person aMuslim emulates. He supplements this key Sunni notion with the conceptof “disciplining the soul” (riyâdatal-nafs). At birth the essence of the human is deficient andignoble and only strict efforts and patient treatment can lead ittowards developing virtuous character traits (al-Ghazâlî1937–38, book 23). The human soul’s temperament, forinstance, becomes imbalanced through the influence of other people andneeds to undergo constant disciplining (riyâda) andtraining (tarbiya) in order to keep these character traits atequilibrium. Behind this kind of ethics stands the Aristotelian notionofentelechy: humans have a natural potential to developrationality and through it acquire virtuous character. Education,literature, religion, and politics should help realizing thispotential. Al-Ghazâlî became acquainted with an ethic thatfocuses on the development of virtuous character traits through theworks of Muslimfalâsifa like Miskawayh (d. 1030) andMuslim scholars like al-Râghib al-Isfahânî (d.c.1025), who strove to make philosophical notions compatiblewith Muslim religious scholarship (Madelung 1974). As a resultal-Ghazâlî rejected the notion, for instance, that oneshould try to give up potentially harmful affections like anger orsexual desire. These character traits are part of human nature,al-Ghazâlî teaches, and cannot be given up. Rather,disciplining the soul means controlling these potentially harmfultraits through one’s rationality (‘aql). Thehuman soul has to undergo constant training and needs to bedisciplined similar to a young horse that needs to be broken in,schooled, and treated well.
At no point does al-Ghazâlî reveal the philosophicalorigins of his ethics. He himself saw a close connection between theethics of thefalâsifa and Sufi notions of an asceticand virtuous lifestyle. In hisRevival he merges these twoethical traditions to a successful and influential fusion. In hisautobiography al-Ghazâlî says that the ethics of thefalâsifa and that of the Sufis are one and the same.Congruent with his position that many teachings and arguments of thefalâsifa are taken from earlier revelations and fromthe divinely inspired insights of mystics, who existed already inpre-Islamic religions (Treiger 2012, 99–101) he adds that thefalâsifa have taken their ethics from the Sufis,meaning here mystics among the earlier religions(al-Ghazâlî 1959a, 24 = 2000b, 67).
Another important field where al-Ghazâlî introducedAvicennan ideas into Ash’aritekalâm in a waythat this tradition eventually adopted them is human psychology andthe rational explanation of prophecy (Griffel 2004, al-Akiti 2004).Based on partly mis-translated texts by Aristotle (Hansberger 2011),Avicenna developed a psychology that assumes the existence of severaldistinct faculties of the soul. These faculties are stronger or weakerin individual humans. Prophecy is the combination of three facultieswhich the prophet has in an extraordinarily strong measure. Thesefaculties firstly allow the prophet to acquire theoretical knowledgeinstantly without learning, secondly represent this knowledge throughsymbols and parables as well as divine future events, and thirdly tobring about effects outside of his body such as rain or earthquakes.These three faculties exist in every human in a small measure, a factproven by the experience ofdéjà vu, forinstance, a phenomenon referred to in the Arabic philosophic traditionas “the veridical dream” (al-manâmal-sâdiq). Al-Ghazâlî adopted these teachingsand appropriated them for his own purposes (Treiger 2012). Theexistence of the three faculties in human souls that make up prophecyserves for him as an explanation of the higher insights that mysticssuch as Sufi masters have in comparison to other people. Whileprophets have strong prophetic faculties and ordinary humans very weakones, the “friends of God” (awliyâ’,i.e. Sufi masters) stand in between these two. They are endowed with“inspiration” (ilhâm), which is similar toprophecy and which serves in al-Ghazâlî as one of the mostimportant sources of human knoweldge. Unlike Avicenna, for whomprophets and maybe also some particularly talented humans(’ârifûn in his language) acquire the sameknowledge that philosophers reach through apodictic reasoning, inal-Ghazâlî the prophets andawliyâ’have access to knowledge that is superior to that available solelythrough reason.
Despite the significant philosophical influence onal-Ghazâlî’s ethics, he maintained in Islamic law(fiqh) the anti-rationalist Ash’arite position thathuman rationality is mute with regard to normative judgments abouthuman actions and cannot decide whether an action is“good” or “bad.” When humans think they know,for instance, that lying is bad, their judgment is determined by aconsideration of their benefits. With regard to the ethical value ofour actions we have a tendency to confuse moral value with benefit. Wegenerally tend to assume that whatever benefits our collectiveinterest is morally good, while whatever harms us collectively is bad.These judgments, however, are ultimately fallacious and cannot be thebasis of jurisprudence (fiqh). “Good” actions arethose that are rewarded in the afterlife and “bad” actionsare those that are punished (al-Ghazâlî 1904–07,1:61). The kind of connection between human actions and reward orpunishment in the afterlife can only be learned from revelation(Hourani 1976, Marmura 1968–69). Muslim jurisprudence is thescience that extracts general rules from revelation. Like mostreligious sciences it aims at advancing humans’ prospect ofredemption in the world to come. Therefore it must be based on theQur’an and thesunna of the Prophet while it uses logicand other rational means to extract general rules.
Al-Ghazâlî was one of the first Muslim jurists whointroduced the consideration of a “public benefit”(maslaha) into Muslim jurisprudence. In addition todeveloping clear guidance of how to gain redemption in the afterlife,religious law (sharî’a) also aims at creating anenvironment that allows each individual wellbeing and the pursuit of avirtuous and pious lifestyle. Al-Ghazâlî argues that whenGod revealed divine law (sharî’a) He did so withthe purpose (maqsad) of advancing human benefits in thisworldand the next. Al-Ghazâlî identifies fiveessential components for wellbeing in this world: religion, life,intellect, offspring, and property. Whatever protects these“five necessities” (al-darûriyyâtal-khamsa) is considered public benefit (maslaha) andshould be advanced, while whatever harms them should be avoided. Thejurisprudent (faqîh) should aim at safeguarding thesefive necessities in his legal judgments. In recommending this,al-Ghazâlî practically implies that a “maslahamursala,” a public benefit that is not mentioned in therevealed text, is considered a valid source of legislation (Opwis 2007and 2010, 65–88).
Despite his declared reluctance to enter into theological discussions,al-Ghazâlî addresses in hisRevival importantphilosophical problems related to human actions. In the 35th book on“Belief in Divine Unity and Trust in God” (Kitâbal-Tawhîd wa-l-tawakkul) he discusses the relationshipbetween human actions and God’s omnipotence as creator of theworld. In this and other books of theRevivalal-Ghazâlî teaches a strictly determinist position withregard to events in the universe. God creates and determineseverything, including the actions of humans. God is the only“agent” or the only “efficient cause”(fâ’il, the Arabic term means both) in the world.Every event in creation follows a pre-determined plan that iseternally present in God’s knowledge. God’s knowledgeexists in a timeless realm and does not contain individual“cognitions” (‘ulûm) like humanknowledge does. God’s knowledge does not change, for instance,when its object, the world, changes. While the events that arecontained in God’s knowledge are ordered in “before”and “after”, there is no past, present, and future.God’s knowledge contains the first moment of creation just asthe last, and He knows “in His eternity,” for instance,whether a certain individual will end up in paradise or hell (Griffel2009, 175–213).
For all practical purposes it befits humans to assume that Godcontrols everything through chains of causes (Marmura 1965,193–96). We witness in nature causal processes that add up tolonger causal chains. Would we be able to follow a causal chain likean “inquiring wayfarer” (sâliksâ’il), who follows a chain of events to its origin,we would be led through causal processes in the sub-lunar sphere, the“world of dominion” (‘âlam al-mulk),further to causes that exist in the celestial spheres, the“world of sovereignty” (‘âlamal-malakût), until we would finally reach the highestcelestial intellect, which is caused by the being beyond it, God(al-Ghazâlî 1937–38, 13:2497–509 = 2001,15–33; see also idem 1964a, 220–21). God is the startingpoint of all causal chains and He creates and controls all elementstherein. God is “the one who makes the causes function ascauses” (musabbib al-asbâb) (Frank 1992, 18).
God’s “causal” determination of all events alsoextends to human actions. Every human action is caused by theperson’s volition, which is caused by a certain motive(dâ’iya). The person’s volition and motiveare, in turn, caused by the person’s convictions and his or herknowledge (‘ilm). Human knowledge is caused by variousfactors, like one’s experience of the world, one’sknowledge of revelation, or the books one has read(al-Ghazâlî 1937–38, 13:2509–11 = 2001,34–37). There is no single event in this world that is notdetermined by God’s will. While humans are under the impressionthat they have a free will, their actions are in reality compelled bycauses that exist within them as well as outside (Griffel 2009,213–34).
Al-Ghazâlî viewed the world as a conglomerate ofconnections that are all pre-determined and meticulously planned inGod’s timeless knowledge. God creates the universe as a hugeapparatus and employs it in order to pursue a certain goal(qasd). In two of his later works al-Ghazâlîcompares the universe with a water-clock. Here he describes threestages of its creation. The builder of the water-clock first has tomake a plan of it, secondly execute this plan and build the clock, andthirdly he has to make the clock going by supplying it with a constantsource of energy, namely the flow of water. That energy needs to becarefully measured, because only the right amount of energy willproduce the desired result. In God’s creation of the universethese three stages are called judgment (hukm), decree(qadâ’), and pre-destination (qadar)(al-Ghazâlî 1971, 98–102; 1964a, 12–14). Goddesigns the universe in His timeless knowledge, puts it into being atone point in time, and provides it with a constant and well-measuredsupply of “being” (wujûd). According toAvicenna’s explanation of creation—whichal-Ghazâlî was not opposed to—“being” ispassed down from God to the first and ontologically highest creationand from there in a chain of secondary efficient causes to all otherexistents. It is important to acknowledge, however, that God is theonly true efficient cause (fâ’il) in this chain.He is the only “agent,” all other beings are merelyemployed in His service (Griffel 2009, 236–53).
Nature is a process in which all elements harmoniously dovetail withone another. Celestial movements, natural processes, human actions,even redemption in the afterlife are all “causally”determined. Whether we will be rewarded or punished in the afterlifecan be understood, according to al-Ghazâlî, as the merecausal effect of our actions in this world. In the 32nd book of hisRevival al-Ghazâlî explains how knowing theQur’an causes the conviction (i’tiqâd) thatone is punished for bad deeds, and how that conviction may causesalvation in the afterlife:
…and the conviction [that some humans will be punished] is acause (sabab) for the setting in of fear, and the setting inof fear is a cause for abandoning the passions and retreating from theabode of delusions. This is a cause for arriving at the vicinity ofGod, and God is the one who makes the causes function as causes(musabbib al-asbâb) and who arranges them(murattibuhâ). These causes have been made easy forhim, who has been predestined in eternity to earn redemption, so thatthrough their chaining-together the causes will lead him to paradise.(al-Ghazâlî 1937–38, 11:2225.)
All these are teachings that are very close to those of Avicenna(Frank 1992, 24–25). Al-Ghazâlî also followedAvicenna in his conviction that this universe is the best of allpossible worlds and that “there is in possibility nothing morewondrous than what is” (laysa fî-l-imkânabda’ mimmâ kân) (al-Ghazâlî1937–38, 13:2515–18 = 2001, 47–50). This led to along-lasting debate among later Muslim theologians about what is meantby this sentence and whether al-Ghazâlî is, in fact, right(Ormsby 1984). It must be stressed, however, that contrary toAvicenna—and contrary to Frank’s (1992, 55–63)understanding of him—al-Ghazâlî firmly held that Godexercises a genuine free will and that when He creates, He choosesbetween alternatives. God’s will is not in any way determined byGod’s nature or essence. God’s will is the undetermineddeterminator of everything in this world.
Al-Ghazâlî’s cosmology of God’s determinationand His control over events in His creation through chains of causes(singl.sabab) aimed at safeguarding the Sunni doctrine ofomnipotence and divine pre-determination against the criticism ofMu’tazilites and Shiites. Humans have only the impression of afree will (ikhtiyâr). In reality they are compelled tochoose what they deem is the best action (khayr) among thepresent alternatives. Avicenna’s determinist ontology, whereevery event in the created world is by itself contingent (mumkimal-wujûd bi-dhâtihi) yet also necessitated bysomething else (wâjib al-wujûd bi-ghayrihi),provided a suitable interpretation of God’s pre-determinationand is readily adopted by al-Ghazâlî although he neveradmits that or uses Avicenna’s language. In Avicenna the FirstBeing, which is God, makes all other beings and events necessary. Inal-Ghazâlî God’s will, which is distinct from Hisessence, necessitates all beings and events in creation. Theadaptation of fundamental assumptions in Avicenna’s cosmologytogether with an almost wholesale acceptance of Avicenna’spsychology and his prophetology led Frank (1992, 86) to conclude“that from a theological standpoint most of [Avicenna’s]theses which he rejected are relatively tame and inconsequentialcompared to those in which he follows the philosopher.”
While al-Ghazâlî’s determinist cosmology is aradical but faithful interpretation of the Ash’arite tenet ofdivine pre-determination, the way al-Ghazâlî writes aboutit in hisRevival and later works violates other principlesof Ash’arism and has led to much confusion among moderninterpreters. The remainder of this article will make an attempt toresolve current interpretative problems and explainal-Ghazâlî’s innovative approach towardscausality.
Al-Ash’ari (873–935), the founder of the theologicalschool that al-Ghazâlî belonged to, had rejected theexistence of “natures” (tabâ’i’) and of causal connections among created beings. In a radical attemptto explain God’s omnipotence, he combined several ideas thatwere developed earlier in Muslimkalâm to what becameknown as occasionalism. All material things are composed of atoms thathave no qualities or attributes but simply make up the shape of thebody. The atoms of the bodies are the carrier of“accidents” (singl.‘arad), which areattributes like weight, density, color, smell, etc. In the cosmologyof al-Ash’arî all immaterial things are considered“accidents” that inhere in a “substance”(jawhar). Only the atoms of spatially extended bodies can besubstances. A person’s thoughts, for instance, are consideredaccidents that inhere in the atoms of the person’s brain, whilehis or her faith is an accident inhering in the atoms of the heart.None of the accidents, however, can subsist from one moment(waqt) to the next. This leads to a cosmology where in eachmoment God assigns the accidents to bodies in which they inhere. Whenone moment ends, God creates new accidents. None of the createdaccidents in the second moment has any causal relation to the ones inthe earlier moment. If a body continues to have a certain attributefrom one moment to the next, then God creates two identical accidentsinhering in that body in each of the two subsequent moments. Movementand development generate when God decides to change the arrangement ofthe moment before. A ball is moved, for instance, when in the secondmoment of two the atoms of the ball happen to be created in a certaindistance from the first. The distance determines the speed of themovement. The ball thus jumps in leaps over the playing field and thesame is true for the players’ limbs and their bodies. This alsoapplies to the atoms of the air if there happen to be some wind. Inevery moment, God re-arranges all the atoms of this world anew and Hecreates new accidents—thus creating a new world every moment(Perler/Rudolph 2000, 28–62).
All Ash’arite theologians up to the generation ofal-Ghazâlî—including his teacheral-Juwaynî—subscribed to the occasionalist ontologydeveloped by al-Ash’arî. One of al-Juwaynî’slate works, theCreed for Nizâm al-Mulk(al-‘Aqîda al-Nizâmiyya), shows, however,that he already explored different ontological models, particularlywith regard to the effects of human actions (al-Juwaynî 1948,30–36; Gimaret 1980, 122–28). A purely occasionalist modelfinds it difficult to explain how God can make humans responsible fortheir own actions if they do not cause them. As a viable alternativeto the occasionalist ontology, al-Ghazâlî considered theAvicennan model of secondary causes. When God wishes to create acertain event He employs some of His own creations as mediators or“secondary causes.” God creates series of efficient causeswhere any superior element causes the existence of the inferior ones.Avicenna stresses that no causal series, in any of the four types ofcauses, can regress indefinitely. Every series of causes and effectsmust have at least three components: a first element, a middleelement, and a last element. In such a chain only the first element isthe cause in the real sense of the word (‘illa mutlaqa)of all subsequent elements. It causes the last element of thatchain—the ultimate effect—through one or manyintermediaries (singl.mutawassat), which are the middleelements of the chain. Looking at a chain of efficient causes, the“finiteness of the causes” (tanâhîl-’ilal) serves for Avicenna as the basis of a proof ofGod’s existence. Tracing back all efficient causes in theuniverse will lead to a first efficient cause, which is itselfuncaused. When the First Cause is also shown to be incorporeal andnumerically one, one has achieved a proof of God’s existence(Avicenna 2005, 257–9, 270–3; Davidson 1987,339–40).
Al-Ghazâlî offers a brief yet very comprehensiveexamination of causality within the 17th discussion of hisIncoherence of the Philosophers. The 17th discussion is nottriggered by any opposition to causality. Rather it aims at forcingal-Ghazâlî’s adversaries, thefalâsifa, to acknowledge that all prophetical miraclesthat are reported in the Qur’an are possible. If theirpossibility is acknowledged, a Muslim philosopher who accepts theauthority of revelation must also admit that the prophets performedthese miracles and that the narrative in revelation is truthful.Al-Ghazâlî divides the 17th discussion into four differentsections. He presents three different “positions” (singl.maqâm) of his (various) opponents and addresses themone by one. His response to the “second position”, whichis that of Avicenna, is further divided into two different“approaches” (singl. maslak). This four-folddivision of the 17th discussion is crucial for its understanding.Al-Ghazâlî addresses different concepts about causalitywithin the different discussions and develops not one, but at leasttwo coherent responses.
For a detailed discussion of the four parts in the 17th discussion thereader must be referred to chapter 6 in Griffel 2009 (147–73).The following pages give only an outline ofal-Ghazâlî’s overall argument. In the openingsentence of the 17th discussion al-Ghazâlî introduces theposition he wishes to refute and he lines out elements thatalternative explanations of causality must include in order to beacceptable for al-Ghazâlî. This opening statement is amasterwork of philosophical literature:
The connection (iqtirân) between what is habituallybelieved to be a cause and what is habitually believed to be an effectis not necessary (darûrî), according to us. But[with] any two things [that are not identical and that do not implyone another] (…) it is not necessary that the existence or thenonexistence of one follows necessarily (min darûra)from the existence or the nonexistence of the other (…). Theirconnection is due to the prior decision (taqdîr) ofGod, who creates them side by side (‘alâal-tasâwuq), not to its being necessary by itself,incapable of separation. (al-Ghazâlî 2000a, 166)
Al-Ghazâlî lays out four conditions that any explanationof physical processes that is acceptable to him must fulfill: (1) theconnection between a cause and its effect is not necessary, (2) theeffect can come to exist without this particular cause (“theyare not incapable of separation”), (3) God creates two eventsconcomitant, side by side, and (4) God’s creation follows aprior decision (taqdîr). On first sight, it seems thatonly an occasionalist explanation of physical processes would fulfillthese four conditions, and this is how this statement has mostly beenunderstood. Rudolph (in Perler/Rudolph 2000, 75–77), however,pointed out that not only occasionalism but other types ofexplanations also fulfill these four criteria. Most misleading is thethird requirement that God would need to create events “side byside.” These words seem to point exclusively to an occasionalistunderstanding of creation. One should keep in mind, however, that thisformula leaves open,how God creates events. Even anAvicennan philosopher holds that God creates the cause concomitant toits effect, and does so by means of secondary causality. While the17th discussion of al-Ghazâlî’sIncoherencepoints towards occasionalism as a possible solution, it also points toothers. Al-Ghazâlî chooses a certain linguisticassociation to occasionalism, which has led many interpreters of thisdiscussion to believe that here, he argues exclusively in favor ofit.
It is important to understand that al-Ghazâlî does notdeny the existence of a connection between a cause and its effect;rather he denies the necessary character of this connection. In theFirst Position of the 17th discussion al-Ghazâlî bringsthe argument that observation cannot prove causal connections.Observation can only conclude that the cause and its effect occurconcomitantly:
Observation (mushâhada) points towards a concomitantoccurrence (al-husûl ‘indahu) but not to acombined occurrence (al-husûl bihi) and that there isno other cause (‘illa) for it. (al-Ghazâlî2000a, 167.)
It would be wrong, however, to conclude from this argument thatal-Ghazâlî denied the existence of causal connections.While such connections cannot be proven through observation (orthrough any other means), they may or may not exist. In the FirstPosition al-Ghazâlî rejects the view that the connectionbetween an efficient cause and its effect is simply necessaryperse, meaning that the proximate cause alone is fully responsiblefor the effect and that nothing else is also necessary for the effectto occur. In another work this position is described as one held by“materialists” (dahriyyûn) who deny thatthe world has a cause or a maker (al-Ghazâlî 1959a, 19 =2000b, 61). The Mu’tazilite view oftawallud, meaningthat humans are the sole creators of their own actions and theirimmediate effects, also falls under this position(al-Ghazâlî 2000, 226.13–14). Like in the connectionbetween a father and his son, where the father is not theonly efficient cause for the son’s existence, so theremay be in every causal connection efficient causes involved other thanthe most obvious or the most proximate one. The proximate efficientcause may be just the last element in a long chain of efficient causesthat extends via the heavenly realm. The intellects of the celestialspheres, which were thought to be referred to in revelation as“angels,” may be middle elements or intermediaries incausal chains that all have its beginning in God.Al-Ghazâlî rejects the position of the materialists andthe Mu’tazilites because it does not take account of the factthat God is the ultimate efficient cause of the observed effect. Godmay create this effect directly or by way of secondary causality.Discussing the example that when fire touches a ball of cotton itcauses it to combust, al-Ghazâlî writes about the FirstPosition that the firealone causes combustion:
This [position] is one of those that we deny. Rather we say that theefficient cause (fâ’il) of the combustion throughthe creation of blackness in the cotton and through causing theseparation of its parts and turning it into coal or ashes isGod—either through the mediation of the angels or withoutmediation. (al-Ghazâlî 2000a, 167.)
Secondary causality is a viable option for al-Ghazâlî thathe is willing to accept. Still he does not accept the teachings ofAvicenna, which are discussed in the Second Position. Avicennacombines secondary causality with the view that causal processesproceed with necessity and in accord with the natures of things, andnot by way of deliberation and choice on the side of the efficientcause. The ultimate efficient cause in a cosmology of secondarycausality is, of course, God. The Avicennan opponent of the SecondPosition teaches secondary causalityplus he holds that thecausal connections follow with necessity from the nature of the FirstBeing. They are not created through God’s deliberation andchoice but are a necessary effect of God’s essence.
When al-Ghazâlî writes that the connection between a causeand its effect is not necessary he attacks Avicenna’snecessitarian ontology not his secondary causality. The disputebetween al-Ghazâlî and Avicenna is not about causality assuch, rather about the necessary nature of God’s creation.Kukkonen (2000) and Dutton (2001) have shown that the two start withquite different assumptions about necessity. Avicenna’s view ofthe modalities follows the statistical model of Aristotle and connectsthe possibility of a thing to its temporal actuality (Bäck 1992).A temporally unqualified sentence like, “Fire causes cotton tocombust,” contains implicitly or explicitly a reference to thetime of utterance as part of its meaning. If this sentence is truewhenever uttered, it is necessarily true. If its truth-value canchange in the course of time, it is possible. If such a sentence isfalse whenever uttered, it is impossible (Hintikka 1973, 63–72,84–6, 103–5, 149–53). In Aristotelian modaltheories, modal terms were taken to refer to the one and onlyhistorical world of ours. For Avicenna, fire necessarily causes cottonto combust because the sentence “Fire causes cotton tocombust,” was, is, and will always be true.
Al-Ghazâlî’s understanding of the modalitiesdeveloped in the context of Ash’aritekalâm anddoes not share the statistical model of Aristotle and Avicenna.Ash’aritekalâm developed an understanding thatis closer to our modern view of the modalities as referring tosynchronic alternative states of affairs. In the modern model, thenotion of necessity refers to what obtains in all alternatives, thenotion of possibility refers to what obtains in at least in onealternative, and that which is impossible does not obtain in anyconceivable state of affairs (Knuuttila 1998, 145). Ash’aritekalâm pursued the notion that God is theparticularizing agent (mukhassis) of all events in the world,who determines, for instance, when things come into existence and whenthey fall out of existence (Davidson 1987, 159–61,176–80). The idea of particularization (takhsîs)includes implicitly an understanding of possible worlds that aredifferent from this. The process of particularization makes one ofseveral alternatives actual. In hisCreed for Nizâmal-Mulk, al-Juwaynî explains the Ash’ariteunderstanding of the modalities. Every sound thinking person findswithin herself, “the knowledge about the possibility of what ispossible, the necessity of what is necessary, and the impossibility ofwhat is impossible” (al-Juwaynî 1948, 8–9). We knowthis distinction instinctively without learning it from others andwithout further inquiry into the world. It is an impulse(badîha) in our rational judgment(‘aql). Al-Juwaynî explains this impulse:
The impulsive possibility that the intellect rushes to apprehendwithout [any] consideration, thinking, or inquiry is what becomesevident to the intelligent person when he sees a building. [Thebuilding] is a possibility that comes into being (min jawâzhudûthihi). The person knows decisively and offhand thatthe actual state (hudûth) of that building is fromamong its possible states (ja’izât) and that itis not impossible in the intellect had it not been built.(al-Juwaynî 1948, 9)
The intelligent person (al-‘âqil)—heresimply meaning a person with full rational capacity—realizesthat all the features of the building, its height, its length, itsform, etc., are actualized possibilities and could be different. Thesame applies to the time when the building is built. We immediatelyrealize, al-Juwaynî says, that there is a synchronic alternativestate to the actual building. This is what we call possibility or moreprecisely contingency (imkân). Realizing that there issuch an alternative is an important part of our understanding:“The intelligent person cannot realize in his mind anythingabout the states of the building without comparing it with what iscontingent like it (imkân mithlihi) or what isdifferent from it (khilâfihi).” (al-Juwaynî1948,9.)
In at least three passages of theIncoherenceal-Ghazâlî criticizes Avicenna’s understanding ofthe modalities. Here he refers to another, closely related dispute,namely that for Avicenna the modalities exist in reality while foral-Ghazâlî they exist only as judgments in the minds ofhumans (al-Ghazâlî 2000, 42.2–5, 124.10–11,207.4–14). He denies Avicenna’s premise that possibilityneeds a substrate. This premise is Aristotelian—it is the basisto the principle of entelechy, namely that all things havepotentialities and are driven to actualize them (Dutton 2001,26–7) Al-Ghazâlî shifts, as Kukkonen (2000,488–9) puts it, the locus of the presumption of a thing’sactual existence from the plane of the actualized reality to the planeof mental conceivability.
When al-Ghazâlî says that “according to us”the connection between the efficient cause and its effect is notnecessary, he aims to point out that the connectioncould bedifferent even if it never will be different. For Avicenna, the factthat the connection never was different and never will be differentimplies that it is necessary. Nowhere in his works requiresal-Ghazâlî that any given causal connection was differentor will be different in order to be considered not necessary. We willsee that he, like Avicenna, assumes causal connections never were andnever will be different from what they are now. Still they are notnecessary, he maintains. The connection between a cause and its effectis contingent (mumkin) because an alternative to it isconceivable in our minds. We can imagine a world where fire does notcause cotton to combust. Or, to continue reading the initial statementof the 17th discussion:
(…) it is within divine power to create satiety without eating,to create death without a deep cut (hazz) in the neck, tocontinue life after having received a deep cut in the neck, and so onto all connected things. Thefalâsifa deny thepossibility of [this] and claim it to be impossible.(al-Ghazâlî 2000a, 166.)
Of course, a world where fire doesn’t cause combustion in cottonwould be radically different from the one we live in. A change in asingle causal connection would probably imply that many others wouldbe different as well. Still, such a world can be conceived in ourminds, which means it is a possible world. God, however, did notchoose to create such an alternative possible world (Griffel 2009,172–3).
In the initial statement of the 17th discussion al-Ghazâlîclaims that “the connection [between cause and effect] is due tothe prior decision (taqdîr) of God.” When heobjects to Avicenna that these connections are not necessary,al-Ghazâlî wishes to point out that God could have chosento create an alternative world where the causal connections aredifferent from what they are. Avicenna denied this. This world is thenecessary effect of God’s nature and a world different from thisone is unconceivable. Al-Ghazâlî objects and says thisworld is the contingent effect of God’s free will and Hisdeliberate choice between alternative worlds.
In the Second Position of the 17th discussion al-Ghazâlîpresents two different “approaches” (singl.maslak) in order to counter Avicenna’s position thatthe necessary connection between existing causes and effects renderssome miracles in the Qur’an impossible. In the First Approachal-Ghazâlî denies the existence of “natures”(tabâ’i’) and of causal connections andmaintains that God creates every event immediately. This is the partof the 17th discussion where he presents occasionalism as a viableexplanation of what we have usually come to refer as efficientcausality. God’s eternal and unchanging knowledge alreadycontains all events that will happen in creation. By creatingcombustion every time fire touches cotton, God follows a certaincustom (‘âda). In real terms, however, combustionoccurs only concomitantly when fire touches cotton and is notconnected to this event. In the First Approach of the Second Positionin the 17th discussion (al-Ghazâlî 2000a,169.14–171.11) and in some of his later works(al-Ghazâlî 1962), he maintains that causal processes maysimply be the result of God’s habit and that He creates what weconsider a cause and its effect individually and immediately. When Godwishes to perform a miracle and confirm the mission of one of Hisprophets, he suspends His habit and omits to create the effect Heusually does according to His habit.
The Second Approach (al-Ghazâlî 2000a, 171.12–174.8)presents a very different explanation of prophetical miracles. Marmura(1981) called it “al-Ghazâlî’s second causaltheory.” Here al-Ghazâlî accepts the existence of“natures” (tabâ’i’) and ofunchanging connections between causes and their effects. In the secondcausal theory al-Ghazâlî merely points out that despitehuman efforts in the natural sciences, we are far away from knowingall causes and explaining all processes in nature. It may well be thecase that those miracles that thefalâsifa deny haveimmanent natural causes that are unknown to us. When Moses, forinstance, threw his stick to the ground and it changed into a serpent(Qur’an, 7.107, 20.69, 26.32) the material of the wooden stickmay have undergone a rapid transformation and become a living animal.We know that wood disintegrates with time and becomes earth thatfertilizes and feeds plants. These plants are, in turn, the fodder ofherbivores, which are consumed by carnivores like snakes. Thefalâsifa cannot exclude that some unknown cause acts asa catalyst and may rapidly expedite the usually slow process where thematter of a wooden stick is transformed into a snake. These and otherexplanations given in the Second Approach are only examples of how theprophetical miracles may be the result of natural causes that are notfully understood by humans.
Marmura (1965, 183; 1981, 97) rejected the suggestion thatal-Ghazâlî might have held occasionalism and secondarycausality as two cum-possible cosmological explanations. Marmuraconceded that al-Ghazâlî makes use of causalist language“sometimes in the way it is used in ordinary Arabic, sometimesin a more specifically Avicennian / Aristotelian way” and thatthis usage of language is innovative for the Ash’arite schooldiscourse (1995, 89). Yet in all major points of Muslim theologyal-Ghazâlî held positions that follow closely the onesdeveloped by earlier Ash’arite scholars, namely the possibilityof miracles, the creation of humans acts, and God’s freedomduring the creation of the universe (1995, 91, 93–97,99–100). In Marmura’s view, al-Ghazâlî neverdeviated from occasionalism, while he sometimes expressed his opinionsin ambiguous language that mocked philosophical parlance, probably inorder to lure followers offalsâfa into theAsh’arite occasionalist camp.
That al-Ghazâlî considered occasionalism and secondarycausality as cum-possible explanations of God’s creativeactivity is stated, however, in a passage in the 20th discussion oftheIncoherence on the subject of corporeal resurrection inthe afterlife. Thefalâsifa argue that corporealresurrection is impossible because it requires the transformation ofsubstances like iron into a garment, which is impossible. In hisresponse, al-Ghazâlî refers to the Second Approach of theSecond Position in the 17th discussion where, he says, he had alreadydiscussed this problem. He argues that the unusually rapid recyclingof the matter that makes up the piece of iron into a piece of garmentis not impossible. “But this is not the point at issuehere,” al-Ghazâlî says. The real question is whethersuch a transformation “occurs purely through [divine] powerwithout an intermediary, or through one of the causes.” Hecontinues:
Both these two views are possible for us (kilâhumâmumkinân ‘indanâ) (…) [In the 17thdiscussion we stated] that the connection of connected things inexistence is not by way of necessity but through habitual events,which can be disrupted. Thus, these events come about through thepower of God without the existence of their causes. The second [view]is that we say: This is due to causes, but it is not a condition thatthe cause [here] would be one that is well-known(ma’hûd). Rather, in the treasury of things thatare enacted by [God’s] power there are wondrous and strangethings that one hasn’t come across. These are denied by someonewho thinks that only those things exists that he experiences similarto people who deny magic, sorcery, the talismanic arts, [prophetic]miracles, and the wondrous deeds [done by saints].(al-Ghazâlî 2000a, 222.)
Al-Ghazâlî maintained this undecided position throughouthis lifetime. Given the fact that neither observation nor any othermeans of knowing (including revelation) gives a decisive proof for theexistence or non-existence of a connection between a cause and itseffect, we must suspend our judgment on this matter. God may createthrough the mediation of causes that He employs, or directly withoutsuch mediation. This undecided position is unfortunately nowhereclearly explained. It can be gathered from isolated statements likethe one above and the fact that after theIncoherenceal-Ghazâlî wrote books where he maintained a distinctlyoccasionalist cosmology (al-Ghazâlî 1962) and others likethe 35th book of hisRevival or theNiche of Lights,where he uses language that is explicitly causalist. In none of thesebooks, however, he commits himself to the position that the cause isconnected to its effect. God may create the two independently from oneanother or He may create them through the mediation of secondarycauses. In his very last work, completed only days before his death,al-Ghazâlî discusses whether God creates “throughthe mediation” (bi-wâsita) of his creations ornot, and maintains that the matter cannot be settled decisively(al-Ghazâlî 1985, 68–69).
In all this al-Ghazâlî accepted the unchanging characterof this creation. Once God chose to create this world amongalternatives, He also chose not to change the rules that govern it.While it is conceivable and therefore possible that God would breakhis habit or intervene in the assigned function of the secondarycauses, He informs us in His revelation that He will not do so. In the31st book of hisRevival, al-Ghazâlî says thatGod creates all things one after the other in an orderly manner. Aftermaking clear that this order represents God’s habit(sunna), he quotes the Qur’an (33:62 and 48:23):“You will not find any change in God’s habit.”(al-Ghazâlî 1937–38, 11:2084–85.) This verseis quoted several times in theRevival; in one passageal-Ghazâlî adds that we should not think God will everchange His habit (ibid, 4:12). Prophetical miracles are merelyextraordinary occurrences that take place within the system of thestrictly habitual operation of God’s actions or within the“natural laws” that govern the secondary causes. Miraclesare programmed into God’s plan for His creation, so to speak,from the very beginning and do not represent a direct intervention ora suspension of God’s lawful actions (Frank 1992, 59; idem,1994, 20). Given that there will never be a break in God’shabit, an occasionalist universe will always remain indistinguishablefrom one governed by secondary causality.
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al-Farabi |Arabic and Islamic Philosophy, disciplines in: natural philosophy and natural science |causation: medieval theories of |Duns Scotus, John |future contingents: medieval theories of |Ibn Rushd [Averroes] |Ibn Sina [Avicenna] |Maimonides: the influence of Islamic thought on |modality: medieval theories of |Philoponus
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