Ednan Aslan, Marcia Hermansen (Eds.) - Religion and Violence - Muslim and Christian Theological and Pedagogical Reflections (2017)

Wiener Beiträge zur Islamforschung
Ednan Aslan
Marcia Hermansen Editors
Religion
and Violence
Muslim and Christian Theological
and Pedagogical Reflections
Herausgegeben von
E. Aslan, Wien, Austria
Die Buchreihe „Wiener Beiträge zur Islamforschung“ beschäftigt sich mit interdis-
ziplinären Studien aus den Fachbereich der Islamischen Theologie und Religions
pädagogik sowie der Religionswissenschaft und Philosophie. Die Forschungs
schwerpunkte des Herausgebers, Professor Ednan Aslan, liegen auf Themen wie
Islam in Europa, der Theorie der islamischen Erziehung in Europa sowie Fragen
zu Muslime an öffentlichen Schulen und Islamischer Theologie mit europäischer
Prägung.
Herausgegeben von
Ednan Aslan
Institut für Islamische Studien
Universität Wien
Wien, Österreich
Weitere Bände in dieser Reihe http://www.springer.com/series/13592

Ednan Aslan · Marcia Hermansen
(Eds.)
Religion and Violence

Muslim and Christian Theological
Editors
Ednan Aslan Marcia Hermansen
Wien, Austria Chicago, USA

ISBN 978-3-658-18301-1 ISBN 978-3-658-18302-8 (eBook)
DOI 10.1007/978-3-658-18302-8
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Contents
Preface: Islam and Violence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

Ednan Aslan
Religion and Violence: Christian and Muslim Theological

and Pedagogical Reflections . Volume Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5
Marcia Hermansen
Section I: Religion and Violence
The Drama Triangle of Religion and Violence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17

R. Ruard Ganzevoort
Violence vs . Religion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31
Ferid Muhic
Violence and Religion: A Complex Relationship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41
Wolfgang Palaver
The Integration of Muslims and the Charlie Hebdo Attacks .
Cleavages and Convergences between Religious Denominations in France . . 55
Claude Dargent
Eastern Orthodox Perspectives on Violence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73
Emil Bjørn Hilton Saggau
Embracing the Other: Lessons from History and Contemporary
Christian Thought . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93
Kostake Milkov
V
VI Contents
Section II: Islam and Violence
The Theological Background of Violence in Islam . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113

Ednan Aslan
Civil Disobedience in Islamic Politico-Legal Theory: A Challenging
Balance between Justice and Stability . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131
Osman Taştan
Muslim Theologians of Nonviolence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147
Marcia Hermansen
The Sunna of Fighting: Background, Dimensions, Scope,
and Consequences . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163
Ulvi Karagedik
Women’s Entitlement to Autonomy in Islam and Related Controversies
Surrounding Verse 4:34 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 177
Ranja Ebrahim
Responding to the Marrakesh Declaration with a United States Declaration.
A Call to Preserve and Protect Muslim Civil Rights . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 195
Jason Renken
Section III: Religious Education and the Challenge of Violence
Against Religiously Motivated Violence. Religious Education’s

Contribution to Peaceful Relationships between Different Religions –
What Should it Entail and How Can it Be Evaluated? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 207
Friedrich Schweitzer
Violence as a Challenge for Religious Education: Psychological,
Theological, and Educational Perspectives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 227
Martin Rothgangel
Journeying into a Peaceful Islam: A Worldview Framework Approach . . . . 243
John Valk and Mualla Selçuk
Author Biographies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265

Preface: Islam and Violence
Ednan Aslan
In Tetova, Macedonia, numerous renowned colleagues from Europe and beyond

gathered to present their views on the relationship between violence and religion .
Within the focus of the theme for the conference, the current discussions on the
position of violence in the name of Islam are certainly of central importance . In
this regard, the question emerged whether Islam, as a religion, promotes violence
or offers a strong basis for the legitimation of violence .
Since the media has begun to focus on Islam, a closer analysis of such debates
increasingly reveals that one question has crystallized, namely, how much religiosity
is acceptable in a pluralistic society . Two further polarizing positions have come to
be recognized with regard to this question .
On the one hand, many critics of religion have seen current events as an occa-
sion for profound attacks on religion, emphasizing again and again that religion is
the real root cause of violence and that the less religion there is, the more peaceful
secular societies will be . On the other hand, representatives of religions denounce
such modern secular fundamentalist positions, pointing out the potential for peace
in religions and the fact that a peaceful world would be inconceivable without the
contributions of religions .
It can be inferred from these two positions that religions are under enormous
pressure to highlight their contributions to peace, let alone to demonstrate their
peaceful contributions with concrete examples . The particular pressure on Islam
is due to the fact that, even more so than other religions, Islam, for whatever
reason, is predominantly associated with violence and conflicts undertaken in
its name, not least because this violence is, in no uncertain terms, committed in
the name of Islam . The situations in Iraq or Syria, but also in other traditionally
Muslim-majority countries, make it very difficult to convince the world public by
arguing otherwise, since the images of violence committed in the name of Islam
1
2 Ednan Aslan
stifle all other arguments to such an extent that people cannot or will not listen or
pay any attention to further argumentation.
Even if reducing the causes of violence in the world exclusively to religion is too
simple and naïve a calculation, religions cannot, in spite of everything, be completely
absolved of responsibility, such that all that happens in the name of religion actually
has nothing to do with religion. Such a positioning could at best calm those who
adhere to the religions, but in this way religions completely lose their credibility.
This possibility can no longer be dismissed if religions evade their responsibility
and the causes of the violence are constantly projected only onto factors such as
the economy, politics, corrupt machinations, etc.
For the future of religions in this debate, it is crucial to try to point out the
potential of religions as a resource for world peace. At the same time we must not
lose sight of the potential of religions for violence, in order to actively counteract
internal theological tendencies that could be misused to support violence.
These critical religious intra-communal debates cannot currently be held in
Muslim countries for various reasons. One of the most important prerequisites
for such debates, namely intellectual freedom or the freedom to investigate and
reflect, which is of the greatest relevance, is lacking in those countries from whose
universities important and positive impulses could emerge. The policies of such
states benefit from the current ossified theological structures and thus these states
cannot risk granting liberties in this area, which would ultimately shake their pillars.
Draconian punishments, harsh intimidation, and harassment threaten anyone who
might dare to proliferate such critical thoughts publicly.
In this volume, the authors attempt to speak freely about the potential in religions
both for violence and peace. I am confident that many impulses from this work will
also impact the direction of churches and other religious communities, such that
religions, all together, will try to mobilize the members of their communities to
actively contribute to world peace. In this way, religions will be perceived as part
of the solution for world peace, enabling them to move beyond the stigma of their
damaged reputations.
Without the dedicated efforts of various colleagues the production of this
volume would not have come to pass. I would like to thank my research assistant
Ulvi Karagedik and Shkurte Luma-Osmani from the University of Tetova for their
logistical assistance.
Certainly any publication depends on financial support. The Tetova conference
and this resulting volume were funded by generous contributions from the Foreign
Ministry in Austria and Kultur Vereinigung Austria. It is to these institutions that
I owe the greatest thanks. Furthermore, the tireless efforts of our partner university
in Tetova and its rector Prof. Dr. Vullnet Ameti, as well as those of Prof. Dr. Zeki-
Preface: Islam and Violence 3
rija Sejdini of the Universty of Innsbruck, should not be left unmentioned. I also
wish to express my sincerest gratitude for the friendly cooperation and effective
collaboration of numerous other colleagues.
Ednan Aslan
Vienna September 10, 2016
9
Religion and Violence:
Christian and Muslim Theological
Volume Introduction
Marcia Hermansen
Religion and Violence: Christian and Muslim Reflections
This volume is based on a conference convened in Tetova, Macedonia, in October

2015 . Scholars from multiple disciplines with an interest in religion and violence
met for presentations and deliberations, which lasted several days . Since the focus
of many contributions was either on Muslim or Christian theological responses
to violence or the sociological and pedagogical implications of the association of
Islam and Muslims, or even religion in general, with violence, we have selected
the title Religion and Violence: Christian and Muslim Theological and Pedagogical
Reflections for the collection . This edited volume gathers many of the original
papers developed for and presented at this meeting and it is broadly organized by
topic into three sections: Religion and Violence, Islam and Violence, and Religious
Education and the Challenges of Violence .
Section I: Religion and Violence
The first paper in this section, which features chapters reflecting on theoretical
and sociological aspects of religion and violence, “The Drama Triangle of Religion
and Violence” by R . Ruard Ganzevoort, addresses the fundamental dichotomy
that characterizes many constructions of the relationship between religion and
violence . Both attackers and defenders of religion are equally vocal in claiming
that religion either is or is not a major factor in widespread contemporary violence
or in overcoming violence through peace building . Ganzevoort calls for a more
nuanced approach and draws on Stephen Karpman’s notion of the drama triangle
of perpetrator, rescuer, and victim, or in this articulation: aggressor, bystander,
and victim, in order to argue that in the performance of religious violence the
bystander is intrinsically connected to the dyadic aggressor-victim relationship
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E. Aslan und M. Hermansen (Eds.), Religion and Violence,
Wiener Beiträge zur Islamforschung, DOI 10.1007/978-3-658-18302-8_1
6 Marcia Hermansen
as a helper, rescuer, judge, witness, or enabler. Since these processes function on

individual as well as on collective and political levels, Ganzevoort argues that a
more differentiated model is required in order to analyze the intersection of religion
and violence. He then uses examples of recent public discourse in Europe about
Islamic refugees and radicals to illustrate the intersection of religion and violence
from the perspectives of the various roles in the drama triangle.
Ferid Muhic’s contribution, “Violence vs. Religion”, questions the pervasive
assumption that religion is the main, if not the only, cause of violence. He claims
that blaming religion, which is strongly supported by the world’s most influential
mass media, started some two hundred years ago, when religion is often considered
to have been major source of social violence and war crimes. Many academics offer
expert opinions that attempt to prove how religion itself produces a perverse soli-
darity that we must find some way to diffuse. While ascribing fanatical bigotry as
the salient component of religion, this accusation also points to the liberal state as
the only means by which this “perverse solidarity” can be destroyed, so that “utter
madness” will never again be allowed to intrude on the “sane and decent” political
stage. Muhic’s chapter proposes that the root of violence goes much deeper than
the history of organized human society and all its institutions, including religion
itself, since aggression, violence, and warfare have always been part of the human
condition, as well as human political life. The greatest wars in history, however,
were secular in their character, with religion having little or no influence.
In conclusion, the chapter argues that religion cannot be held responsible for
modern world violence. On the contrary, we find that violence against religion is
stimulated and organized by the secular liberal state, since religion is perceived as
the main obstacle to gaining total control over all aspects of life. Muhic holds that
the projects outlined in The End of History and the Last Man (Fukuyama, 1992) and
The Clash of Civilizations (Huntington, 1992) have clearly and more than explicitly
disclosed the agenda of this aggressive strategic program to counter religion on the
part of many modern states.
Wolfgang Palaver’s chapter, “Violence and Religion: A Complex Relationship”,
opens by reflecting on how recent terrorist attacks by religiously motivated people
have led to a widespread identification of religion and violence. The chapter advo-
cates for appreciating the complex relationship between violence and religion by
looking at certain examples in modern history and referring to some more sober
publications on this topic that emphasize the human origin of all acts of violence.
As a second step Palaver illustrates how the French-American literary critic and
anthropologist René Girard sees the relationship between violence and religion.
With the help of Girard, Palavar argues, we can distinguish between the violent
sacred that characterized the archaic past and the holy that is at the center of the
Religion and Violence: Christian and Muslim Reflections 7
Abrahamic religions (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam). The third part of the chapter
deals more directly with the holy by discussing different images of God. Palavar
theorizes that whenever God is understood along the lines of human power, acts
of violence can be easily justified with the help of religion, whereas when God is
characterized by renunciation with regard to power (kenosis), human violence is
questioned. Following the French philosopher and mystic Simone Weil, the chapter
suggests that it is when human beings imitate God’s renunciation that they can
open up towards each other without hatred and violence.
In “The Integration of Muslims and the Charlie Hebdo Attack”, French sociologist
Claude Dargent argues against the prevalent perception that these attacks turned
French popular opinion against Muslims. Using surveys and sampling methodology,
Dargent is able to establish that the French clearly distinguish jihadist terrorists
from regular Muslims living in France. Even if the French right and especially
the far right are hostile to Muslims, we have not observed an overall increase in
negativity towards Muslims since the attacks of January 2015. Rather, expressions
of solidarity between Muslims and the rest of French society are found, based on
the results of the series of surveys that Dargent and others conducted during this
period. In fact, one finds that while French Muslims are close to Catholics in terms
of values surrounding family and sexuality, they actually more closely resemble
non-religiously affiliated French citizens in the areas of political attitudes and
voting patterns. Such results lead to a more nuanced view of processes towards the
integration of Muslims in the French social spectrum.
Emil B.H. Saggau in “Eastern Orthodox Perspectives on Violence” character-
izes how the classical and contemporary Orthodox theological corpus reflects on
violence and war. After offering concise background on violence and wars involv-
ing the Orthodox churches in Eastern Europe, the second and third parts of the
chapter focus on the church’s historical theological reflections on violence before
elaborating on the contemporary Orthodox Church and its theologians’ responses
in the face of violence.
In the post-communist era from 1989 onwards, Eastern Europe has seen a number
of conflicts emerge among various national, political and, to a large extent, religious
groups. A common theme throughout all of these conflicts has been the crucial
roles religion—often Eastern Orthodox Christianity—and nationalism have played.
Eastern Orthodox Christianity has been portrayed as underlying emerging national
movements, for example, in Serbia, Moldova, Macedonia, etc., filling the ideological
gap left by the collapse of Communist ideology. Saggau concludes, however, that
the fusion between Orthodoxy and nationalism, and the subsequent violence that
chauvinistic nationalistic groups have inflicted throughout Eastern Europe, is not
necessarily a causal sequence of events that link religion and theology to violence.
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8 Marcia Hermansen
Orthodox theologian Kostake Milkov turns to Maximus the Confessor, a seventh

century monk and theologian whose writings on asceticism revolve around the
principle of love and renunciation for the sake of the other in his chapter, “Em-
bracing the other: Lessons from History and Contemporary Christian Thought”.
Milkov strives to expose the reader to how Maximus’ thought can be relevant today
by comparing it to the ideas of a number of contemporary Christian thinkers who
explore identity and otherness in the light of Jesus’ twofold command to love God
and one’s neighbor. Noting how Christianity’s story from the very beginning is
founded upon a strong sense of attending to and caring for the vulnerable and the
oppressed that is anchored in the Hebrew Bible, Milkov cites the numerous com-
mands through which Yahweh, the Lord, reminded his Chosen People to welcome
the foreigner, deal fairly with the poor who seek justice, and protect widows and
orphans. Jesus summarizes Yahweh’s directives in the twofold command to love
God and one’s neighbor that he extended even to encompass the enemy. At the
same time Christianity has not always lived up to this ideal, resulting in some dire
consequences. Milkov concludes that fleshing out this twofold command would
constitute a powerful Christian response to the problem of violence.
Section II: Islam and Violence
The second section of the volume draws on the expertise of scholars of Islam who
interrogate and address sources of the particular association of Islam with violence,
especially in recent times.
Ednan Aslan in “The Theological Background to Violence in Islam” deals with
the role of violence in the Qur’an and the Sunna, and how certain belligerent views
and institutions became privileged in subsequent Islamic theology. Aslan focuses
on the message of the Qur’an that aimed to escort people out of the pre-Islamic
tradition of vengeance and violence into a religious outlook of forgiveness and
grace. However, some material found in the hadith corpus must be viewed as more
historically situated such that the transformative spirit of the Prophet’s mission
would be emphasized rather than the specifics of historically familiar practices of
that era such as corporal punishment and battle strategies.
Aslan then criticizes the theological history of Islam that legitimated violence as a
religious means immediately after the death of the Prophet. Noting that instruments
of power such as domination, destruction, and conquest were primary concerns of
early Muslim political authorities, Aslan describes how the development of Islamic
theology in the 8th and 9th century made it difficult for Muslim scholars at that time,
under pressure from such rulers, to distinguish the Arab tribal tradition from the
meaning of the Qur’an. Therefore, an Islamic theology emerged that represented
violence as being God’s desire.
When viewing today’s egregious extremist movements and violent tactics, Aslan
further reminds us of how a certain theological primitivism and disparagement of
religions other than Islam took on additional resonance with a pervasive Muslim
sense of victimization in the aftermath of European colonialism.
By elaborating a theology capable of recognizing other truths in addition to
one’s own, Aslan proposes that Muslims would be able to define themselves without
devaluing or scorning others. In this mode, faith would not lead an individual to
arrogance, but instead to humility, so that the believer repeatedly recognizes himself
anew in the mirror of the other. Drawing on contemporary Turkish theologians such
as Mustafa Aydın and Cafer Yaran who argue for a more pluralistic and peaceful
theology based on the true universal meaning of a “Muslim” as one who submits
herself/himself to the divine, Aslan offers suggestions for a Muslim theology suit-
able for the experiences of European, and ultimately global, Muslims in our time.
Osman Taştan’s “Civil Disobedience in Islamic Politico-Legal Theory: A Chal-
lenging Balance between Justice and Stability” takes on an important question in
Islamic political philosophy/theology, i. e., when can a population rise up against
oppression. Due to the series of civil wars (fitan) that occurred during the period
of the first Rashidun Caliphate after the death of the Prophet, many hadith reports
seem to advocate political quietism, and this became the majority position in Sunni
Islamic jurisprudence and theology.
In responding to this question, Taştan invokes the definition of John Rawls who
defines ‘civil disobedience’ as “a public, non-violent, conscientious yet political act
contrary to law usually done with the aim of bringing about a change in the law or
policies of the government”. By examining certain cases of resistance in admin-
istrative and legal contexts during the early Islamic period as demonstrating the
capacity of Muslims to undertake civil disobedience in line with a Rawlsian approach,
it becomes plausible to hold that civil disobedience, in fact, played a major role in
the formation and development of Islamic theo-political theory. The contemporary
ramifications of recovering the legitimacy of such principled civil disobedience in
Sunni contexts are especially relevant today, and the non-violent possibilities of
such approaches, if revived in Islamic thought, are important practical results of
the theoretical work undertaken in Taştan’s chapter.
In her chapter reviewing and situating “Muslim Theologians of Non-Violence”,
Marcia Hermansen provides an overview and introduction to a number of con-
temporary Muslim theologians from diverse cultural and ethnic backgrounds
who have advocated for non-violent interpretations of the religion. One strategy
9
10 Marcia Hermansen
on which to base such a reading involves emphasizing the earlier Meccan period
during which the primary tactic of Muhammad was persuasion and exhortation.
In addition, several advocates of non-violence observe that the verses of the Qur’an
revealed at that earlier time also have a more universal, non-contextualized message
and should be prioritized. Many contemporary Muslim thinkers who advocate
non-violence also draw on the biography of the Prophet as a source for a peaceful,
mercy-centered theology as opposed to focusing on his few battle campaigns or the
conflicts that arose during the practical establishment of the religion in Medina
and its early expansion in Arabia and beyond.
The chapter concludes by looking forward at post-millennial Muslim writers
on this topic who may be characterized as taking new approaches to this and
other challenges, since a revived Muslim theology increasingly enjoys new and
supportive institutional and pragmatic contexts and more than ever comes into
conversation with comparative philosophical and theological themes and concerns
that provide opportunities to productively expand conversations and perspectives
on mitigating violence.
Ulvi Karagedik’s contribution on “Violence in the Sunna” looks at the way the
life of the Prophet Muhammad has been recounted so as to favor bellicose materials
that privilege military exploits. The great hadith collections of reports about actions
and statements of the Prophet, the biographical Sīra works and the Maghāzī litera-
ture about military campaigns, theaters of war and military actions contain a wide
range of detailed information in this regard. Focusing on the Prophet’s conduct of
war, Karagedik highlights the need for academic and historical examinations of
this topic in order to put violence into context. Among his findings in this regard
are that contextual analysis demonstrates the Prophet’s preference for non-violent
resistance during the Meccan period, that protection of territory rather than reli-
gious reasons motivated armed struggles during the Medinan period. Furthermore,
despite the numerous confrontations that are enumerated in the Muslim sources
the actual time engaged in fighting during the Prophet’s career as political leader
was less than one week, and violence after the surrender of Mecca was generally
politically rather than religiously motivated.
Karagedik then traces an increasing movement towards violent applications of
the readings of religious texts in Islamic tradition. The classical Sunni synthesis
of taqlid of the legal schools and the mitigating effects of spiritual interpretations
of many Sufis gave way following the reformist efforts of Ibn Taymiyya and ‘Abd
al-Wahhab to increasingly literal and hostile interpretations. Muslim responses
in modernity were naturally colored by the colonial experience of many Muslims
and the emergence of nation states in which classical sharī’a systems were in many
cases replaced by secular national legal codes. The chapter concludes by noting
that in an age of extremism, theological and historical illiteracy, and superficial

Internet and social media postings, violent elements of the Islamic tradition have
unfortunately become increasingly emphasized at the expense of a more balanced
and contextual understandings of the range of teachings in the Qur’an and Sunna.
“Women’s Entitlement to Autonomy in Islam and Controversies around Qur’an
4:34” by Ranja Ebrahim takes the discussion of violence and Islam into the sphere
of gender justice and the forms of violence that emerge from patriarchal readings of
the sacred texts. Thus, the kind of violence that is addressed in this chapter is not
primarily that of militant or physical attacks but rather the incapacitation and lack
of autonomy accorded to women and the injustice of their consequent impotence
in the face of pervasive inequality.
Ebrahim argues that, with the emergence of Islam in the Arabian Peninsula in
the early 7th century, women experienced a positive reevaluation of their existing
self-conceptions which introduced a new understanding of the self and its relation-
ships to others, enjoining equality under one transcendent power. In this respect
it can be said that the shift from being a restricted tribal member to becoming an
autonomous person not only uplifted women from the oppressive structures of the
pre-Islamic tribal system but was meant to impact all of humanity, irrespective of
gender differences.
However, we must recognize that certain qur’anic verses seem to instill biases
due to the interpretive abuses of qur’anic commandments that were instilled over
time in order to facilitate a more comfortable and rewarding life exclusively for
male members of society. In particular, one prominent qur’anic verse (4:34) seems
to sanction disciplinary measures against women including corporal punishment
while constructing a patriarchal basis for marriage and social relations by stipulating
positions of power that privilege males.
In the face of this interpretive violence, Ebrahim calls for a recognition that values
such as freedom, gender equality, and autonomy are universal and fundamental
rather than specific to the modern West. Instead, Ebrahim proposes the develop-
ment of an Islamic theological response that would elaborate on these approaches
as Islamic principles intrinsic to human dignity.
Jason Renken’s chapter, “Responding to the Marrakesh Declaration with a United
States Declaration”, focuses on the Marrakesh Declaration issued in January 2016
which united over 250 Muslim scholars and religious leaders from around the world
in articulating a commitment to preserve and protect the rights of religious minor-
ities, especially Christians, in Muslim majority countries. The gathering coincided
with the anniversary of the Constitution of Medina, which sought to guarantee
autonomy and freedom of religion for non-Muslims after the introduction of Islam
by the Prophet Muhammad.
11
12 Marcia Hermansen
Against the background of the escalation of anti-Muslim rhetoric, commonly

known as Islamophobia, in the United States and elsewhere, Renken argues that a
beneficial domestic and foreign policy initiative should be the creation of a paral-
lel “United States Declaration.” This proposed document and its implementation
would state explicitly how Christians, Jews, and those of all faiths or no faith would
formally reiterate the protection and preservation of the civil rights of Muslims,
individually and collectively, as religious minorities in the United States, including
defending the admission of foreign nationals who are immigrants or refugees.
The outcome of this would be an intentional demonstration of reciprocity toward
Muslims as a viable political ethos and basis for future dialogue. It would also further
the public demonstration of resistance to Islamophobic sentiments and individuals
who appeal to violence and the widespread exclusion of Muslims from society, in
accord with a positive implementation of Jürgen Habermas’ recommendation for
religion’s engagement in the public square. Lastly, Renken suggests that such an
initiative could serve as a step in the de-escalation of anti-United States sentiment
internationally.
Section III: Religious Education and the Challenge

of Violence
The third and final section of the volume draws on the expertise of scholars in the
field of education in order to examine how curricular and pedagogical strategies
can raise awareness and further civilizational and interreligious dialogue.
Friedrich Schweitzer in “Against Religiously Motivated Violence: Religious
Education’s Contribution to Peaceful Relationships” observes how, increasingly,
Religious Education is expected to serve as a remedy for religiously motivated vi-
olence. He notes this expectation is ambivalent since, on the one hand, it implies
a new appreciation of Religious Education as a school subject, while, on the other
hand, it can be viewed as an attempt to use this subject for purposes that have little
to do with religion but much to do with societal needs. In addition, this demand for
Religious Education as a panacea is often based on the one-sided assumption that
religion is responsible for violence while, in fact, violence can never be explained
solely by looking at the religious motives involved.
Schweitzer explains how, from a theological and educational point of view, Re-
ligious Education can and should contribute to an understanding of the complex
relationship between religion and violence. This entails gaining insights into this
relationship, identifying the peaceful motives inherent in different religions, and
critically discussing non-peaceful religious motives while developing a critical stance

towards them. He advocates cultivating the ability to take on the perspective of the
other, especially in relationship to religion, which presupposes knowledge about
different religions as well as understanding. In the case of interreligious relationships,
this would involve taking perspectives on as well as fostering attitudes towards
members or adherents of religious traditions other than one’s own concerning peace,
tolerance, respect, and mutual recognition. Among the learning objectives would be
the acquisition of competencies that enable appropriate behavior in interreligious
contexts. While at present these tasks are based on theoretical considerations, in
the future, they should also be subjected to empirical testing concerning the effects
of Religious Education. For this reason Schweitzer also describes possibilities for
empirical research in this field that would allow for critical evaluation of outcomes,
presenting as an example an ongoing research project at the University of Tübingen
with which he is involved.
Martin Rothgangel’s chapter entitled “Violence as a Challenge For Religious
Education: Psychological, Theological and Educational Perspectives” consists of
four sections that analyze violence as a challenge for Religious Education. An initial
preliminary discussion seeks to clarify the term “violence”, while the second section
presents three “classical” theories of violence drawn from psychological research.
The third section attempts a self-critical Christian-theological reflection on violence;
the essential thesis of this section is that those parts of sacred texts that contain or
document violence should not be overlooked or avoided—on the contrary, educators
should accept this challenge and subject it to theological reflection.
Finally, with the foregoing in mind, Rothgangel proposes that we formulate
educational—particularly, religious educational—considerations for dealing with
violence.
Mualla Selçuk and John Valk present the results of a collaborative pedagogical
project aimed at engaging both Muslims and non-Muslims in their chapter, “Jour-
neying into a Peaceful Islam: A Worldview Framework Approach”. The aim of this
project was to discover a comprehensive Islam through a journey into its two most
central tenets (belief in God and being a good person) and how to live those out
peacefully. This model is grounded in a worldview framework that is transdiscipli-
nary and comprehensive and seeks to present an Islam that is open, dynamic, and
peace loving. Building on an international collaborative project between scholars
and institutions in Canada and Turkey that began in May 2011, Selçuk and Valk
designed a model which reveals that people can learn much when they are open
to journeying together in greater understanding and exploration. The premise is
that knowledge and awareness of the other, whoever the other may be, enhances
knowledge and awareness of the self. According to this strategy, critical thinking is
13
14 Marcia Hermansen
enhanced when people with differing worldview perspectives and mutual goodwill
ask questions of each other rather than make pronouncements. According to the
authors, this pedagogical model is geared towards building peace through mutual
understanding and exchange leading to the realization that various traditions often
strive for the same thing: to live meaningfully and peacefully where they are situated.
Section I:
Religion and Violence
The Drama Triangle of Religion
and Violence
R . Ruard Ganzevoort
The intersection of religion and violence is not the invention of our era . From time
immemorial these two have been closely connected, interwoven dimensions of
human experience . As soon as humans come together, form societies, and develop
culture, both religion and violence become central features . We pray and celebrate
together and we kill each other . We practice compassion and create beauty, but we
also engage in horrific cruelty . Certainly, the particular contours of that connection
shift from time to time and from one context to the other, but there is undoubtedly
a structural connection . Whether it is the conservative Christian militants against
abortion (Kellenbach forthcoming), the Muslim protesters against sexual diversity
(complex as that may be in itself, see Shah, 2013), or the Buddhist exclusivists com-
mitting terrorist acts against other faiths (Jerryson & Juergensmeyer, 2010), we can
find religiously inspired violence in every tradition and throughout the centuries .
Anti-religious voices would claim that that connection is one of causality,
assuming that violence is the consequence of being religious . Some go so far as to
advocate the abolition of religion altogether . These actions, however, seem to build
on the false premise that there is indeed a direct causal relationship, or to assume
the equally false idea that anyone would obey a decision to abandon religion, both
of which will be discussed in this chapter . Just as people do not obey the laws that
forbid violence, it is not very likely that any effort to abolish religion will be suc-
cessful . It makes more sense to try to find ways of critically addressing the nexus of
religion and violence, while acknowledging that religion is also one of the motivating
factors in peace building (Ariarajah, 2005; Nepstad, 2004) .
The question then becomes: how can we understand—and then change—the
disgraceful and destructive situation of human violence with religious legitima-
tion? My own research has focused on sexual violence in families and churches .
We know the stories of sexual violence implicating Buddhist and Hindu gurus,
17
18 R. Ruard Ganzevoort
Roman Catholic and Orthodox priests, Islamic madrasa teachers, Jewish rabbis,
Protestant ministers, and sect leaders from all backgrounds.
Meanwhile, our societies are marbled with many more forms of violence which
are in a number of cases also linked with religion, although maybe even more cases
are linked with nationalism and other motives. There is, of course, recent geopolitical
history with its continuing and unprecedented struggle with terrorism, justly or
unjustly interpreted as religiously inspired (Selengut, 2003). Contemporary acts of
terrorism in Western Europe, North Africa, and the Middle East, at least, are often
framed by the perpetrators as being based on their Islamic faith. In comparison,
the highly religious society of the USA has one of the highest percentages of crime
and imprisonment (Walmsley, 2016); more people in that country were killed by
firearms in the last fifty years than the entire death toll of all the country’s wars
together (Jacobson, 2015). What is this uncomfortable connection between religion
and violence, seemingly so at odds with the proclamations of love, reconciliation,
and peace heard over and over in places of worship around the world?
Probably one of the first responses to this question should be that it assumes a
one-sided positive view of religion. In reality, the proclamations in places of worship
and the teachings articulated in religious books, pamphlets, and Internet sites do
not always convey a message of love, reconciliation, and peace. In each religious
tradition we find fundamentalist currents that endorse hate, discrimination, and
violence (Appleby, 2000; Juergensmeyer, 2003; Selengut, 2003). Right-wing evan-
gelicals support anti-abortionist violence and Orthodox believers have engaged in
violent attacks on gay emancipation movements in, for example, Serbia. Muslim
fundamentalists draw on the language of jihad in their cultural conflict with
Western Christianity. Hindu extremists have been found to destroy churches and
mosques in India, Buddhist fighters in Sri Lanka and Myanmar attack Muslim
minorities, and Zionists engage in militant action for the Promised Land. But it is
not only these religious extremes that refute the image of peaceful religion. Many
mainstream believers in most religious traditions believe that theirs is the only road
to salvation and that full and equal acceptance of others would be a betrayal of
their deepest religious convictions, as is evidenced in many hot-tempered debates.
All of this demonstrates that religion is not only defined by goodness, peace, and
harmony, but also by harshness, exclusion, and violence.
A second response to the question would be that general statements about the
connection between religion and violence are false by definition. Until now research
has yielded contradictory results about the impact of religion on the occurrence of
violence and the responses to it. The ‘ambivalence of the Sacred’—as Mark Juergens-
meyer (2003) calls it—is precisely that religion seems to be a powerful contributor
to violence as well as a unique source of reconciliation and peacemaking. If we
The Drama Triangle of Religion and Violence 19
try to unravel this complex relationship, we have to account for the variety in and
among religious traditions, the different effects of dimensions of religion, and the
many forms, causes, and effects of violence.
In my contribution to this conference volume about religion and violence, I will
look at the debates and public protests around religion and violence in contemporary
Europe. More specifically, I will ask how the framing of Islam and violence has been
conflated in the context of the present refugee crisis and in the context of violence
committed by Islamic extremists. Using this material I will draw on insights from the
psychology of religion to discuss three positions that need to be distinguished: the
victim, the aggressor, and the bystander (Twemlow, 2000). These three positions are
similar to the three roles in the Karpman ‘drama triangle’: perpetrator, rescuer, and
victim. The assumption is that these roles cannot be reduced to one another, and that
individuals or groups may shift roles in their relational transactions. In the analysis
of violence, the roles of the aggressor, victim, and bystander suggest the existence
of one another and eventually they can only be analyzed in their interactions. For
a psychological understanding of the connection with religion, however, we will
need separate analyses to discover the intricacies. The psychology of aggression
and violence is different from the psychology of traumatization or of witnessing
violence. Religion will prove to play a different role in each of these perspectives.
Before we move on to a discussion of these specific positions, we have to address
the difficult question of defining violence. This is a complex issue for several rea-
sons. First, the common reduction in definitions of violence to observable physical
injury fails to capture the many forms of mental or spiritual oppression and the
power of symbolic desecration. Think, for example, of the pulling down of Saddam
Hussein’s statue by US Marines or the destruction of Palmyra’s temples by ISIS.
There is all the more at stake when we investigate the connections with religion. This
reduction also ignores violent structures and cultures. Secondly, the application of
any definition of violence to actual events is more than grouping phenomena into
objective theoretical categories. It is also a social construction in which moral judg-
ment and social powers are expressed. To define an act as violent is a performative
action, grounded in the power of definition. The difference between liberationist
actions and guerilla violence is, after all, a matter of perspective. Thirdly, in my
view violence cannot be defined by a higher-order category. Human behavior, for
example, does not suffice as such, because violence is not only present in behavior,
but also in structures, texts, and so on. It is no coincidence that religion, myths,
and literature have often described violence, or evil, as being superhuman and/
or supernatural. I therefore take violence, like for instance love and religion, as a
concept sui generis that can be indicated but not defined conclusively. Our efforts
to define violence are necessary in discussing it, but they stop short of decisively
19
capturing the nature of violence. There is something that surpasses the conceptu-
alization that René Girard (1977) called ‘originary violence’. I will return to that
at the end of the chapter. As a working definition, rather than a comprehensive
conceptualization, let me suggest that violence at least indicates the exertion of
force and the infliction of harm. This meager definition will suffice to discuss the
three positions of aggressor, victim, and bystander.
Islam, Terrorism, and Asylum Seekers
In contemporary Europe, Islam functions prominently in the two—separate yet

connected—debates about jihadist terrorism and about Syrian refugees asking for
asylum in Europe. They are separated because there is no indication of significant
numbers of potential terrorists among refugees. They are connected because right-
wing populists, in particular, frame the discussion as if these individuals are not
really refugees coming from life-threatening circumstances, but instead either
opportunistic economic migrants in search of happiness or terrorist infiltrators.
The right-wing populist frame—advocated by groups like Pegida in Germany
and, for example, Dutch politician Geert Wilders—consistently links Islam with
violence, cruelty, and dishonesty. Advocates of this frame point to pictures of
refugees with smartphones, intimating that these are rich people and thus “not
real refugees”. They use social media to highlight fights among asylum seekers in
reception camps, suggesting that they are not and will not be law-abiding citizens.
They speak of asylum seekers—focusing predominantly on young males—as “tes-
tosterone bombs”, implying sexual aggression against which we need to protect
women and children. They post and repost every message they can find about
violent acts committed by Muslims anywhere on the earth and disregard, deny, or
reinterpret violent acts committed against Muslims. In doing so, they effectively
create a polarized frame in which Islam is unequivocally associated with violence.
In terms of the drama triangle, this right-wing populist perspective frames
Muslims in the role of perpetrators. Even if they are refugees from war-ridden
countries, their religious background takes precedence in the framing. Christian
refugees from the same countries are—in stark contrast—framed as victims, for
example, by interpreting inter-group fights in reception camps as religious oppres-
sion from the side of Muslims. Cast in the role of perpetrators, Muslim refugees
are then framed as a threat to society: our freedom of speech, our health care and
housing systems, our economy, our safety, our peace, and our harmonious society
are all undermined by the Muslim “asylum-tsunami”. Moreover, they refuse to call
Islam a religion and instead call it a “political ideology”.
The frame capitalizes on fear among the population and therefore effectively
casts the “ordinary hard-working European or Dutch citizen” in the role of the
victim. They allegedly run the risk of losing jobs, not getting housing, and paying
the price economically for the influx of refugees. As is well known from other eras
of economic decline, xenophobic fears are on the rise and it becomes more and
more socially acceptable to explicitly target migrants as the source of all societal
problems through their “Islamization”.
In the political debate, however, the drama triangle not only implicates the
refugees and the traditional citizens. The right-wing populists define themselves as
the rescuing bystander. They use language such as “start resisting” and claim to be
the only group that adequately understands the present predicament and is offer-
ing a solution to stop the threat. Meanwhile they describe mainstream politicians,
including the ruling parties, as conspirators and accomplices, or as non-acting and
therefore negligent bystanders. Some go as far as claiming that the parliament and
the government no longer represent the true will of the people and that direct action
is needed, stopping short of calling on their followers to commit violence themselves.
In response, left-wing activists and politicians, refugee organizations, and
churches apply the drama triangle quite differently. They see their right-wing op-
ponents as the real perpetrators, threatening and sometimes committing violence
against Muslim refugees. They point to their discriminatory remarks written on
mosques, asylum centers, and city walls and to concrete incidents of violence. They
describe the right-wing political language as hate speech used by aggressors against
innocent Muslims. Muslim refugees are now described as suffering from multifac-
eted victimization, first from oppressive regimes and cruel opponents, then from
traffickers and harsh immigration policies, and finally from the anti-immigration
movements. Obviously, these left-wing activists also cast themselves in the role of
the rescuing bystander that takes the side of the victims. They too critique the gov-
ernment and mainstream politics for being negligent and silent amidst this refugee
crisis, although they may hail German Chancellor Angela Merkel for her—as they
would say—moral leadership.
Interestingly, in this coalition defending refugees, the focus is not on the reli-
gious dimension but instead on the political one. Some may underscore freedom
of religion, but the central language is one of humanitarian support. Left-wing
activists traditionally have been critical of organized religion and they could be
equally critical of the sometimes rigid ideas, intolerant responses to Western liberal
societies, or views of Muslim migrants regarding the position of women or sexual
21
minorities. In the current debate, however, they do not engage with these critical
questions, but instead focus solely on the needs of refugees to be safe and welcome.
The Drama Triangle and Religion: the Perpetrator
If we want to explore the role of religion within this drama triangle, we can build on
a series of psychological theories for each of the positions in the triangle. Obviously,
these theories offer only partial explanations and each concrete case may be different.
For the role of the aggressor we can look at various interpretations. Biological
research highlights the correlation of violence with neurophysiological processes
and hormonal stress levels (Kruk et al., 2004; Soler et al., 2000). Psychoanalytic
theories explain violence from experiences of frustration (Fonagy, 2001). Social
learning theories look at modeling and reinforcement of violent behavior through
support by bystanders (Lehner-Hartman, 2002; Twemlow, 2000). Rational Choice
theories focus on how violent behavior serves the social purposes of influencing
others, expressing grievances, establishing subjective justice, and defending social
identities (Tedeschi, J. T. & Felson, 1995). Systems theories highlight the collective
and structural levels of violence ingrained in our social systems (Suárez-Orozco &
Robben, 2000). All these theories have been applied to both violence and religion, but
usually not to the intersection of the two. Obviously, the application would be very
different in the right-wing frame, on the one hand, and the leftwing, on the other.
Specific research on the religion-violence connection in aggressors can be found
in several areas. First of all, there is strong evidence for the correlation between
religion and prejudice. Although prejudice in itself does not equate to violent be-
havior, it can be seen as being in the same range. In addition to some data showing
that religiosity correlates with pro-social behavior, there is much more consistent
proof that religion correlates with ethnocentrism, authoritarianism, dogmatism,
and religious and racial prejudice. This relation seems to be curvilinear, with the
highest levels of prejudice found among the moderately religious (Wulff, 1997).
The second area of research can be found in social psychological and sociological
studies of religious violence. Here, researchers claim that religious violence can
only be understood properly if the religious dimension is taken seriously. Even if
in general the correlation between religion and violence is weak or disputed, and
contrasts with religious people’s tendency to distance themselves from militants
by claiming that true religion excludes violence, specific case studies show how the
religious dimension is inextricable from the complex of violence. Charles Selengut
(2003) has identified some key elements in the understanding of religious violence.
The first is the basis for the justification of violence in the religious texts of the re-
ligious traditions. These texts provide a frame of reference for holy warriors that is
stronger than the social or legal barriers to violence. The second is the psychological
process involving the Freudian unconscious, the Girardian mimetic desire, and
cognitive dissonance theory. The third element is the apocalyptic self-understand-
ing of certain religious groups and cults, resulting in utopian communities and a
propensity for violence. The fourth element is Huntington’s ‘clash of civilizations’,
in which group identities are symbolized at the religious level. The fifth element,
touching on the psychological again, is the notion of suffering and martyrdom that
may easily stimulate victims to undertake and endure violence rather than resist
it. For Mark Juergensmeyer (2003), the unifying concept in interpreting religious
violence is performance. The performance dimension of violence resembles reli-
gious ritual and builds on the tendency of religious imagination to become absol-
utized. Religious violence takes place in a battle of symbolic power and truth and
is grounded in a metaphysical perspective of a cosmic war between good and evil,
involving martyrs and demons, a black-and-white description that psychologists
would interpret as a pathological process called “splitting”.
To be clear, we cannot conclude that there is a direct effect of religion on violence
in general. Aggressors may use religion as a justification for their actions or give it
a much more prominent role. In the case of right-wing populism and anti-religious
violence, the ideological takes the place of the religious dimension.
The Drama Triangle and Religion: the Victim
In discussing the role of religion and violence for the drama triangle position of the
victim, the most important contributions come from trauma theories and research
on religious coping. Trauma theory emerged during the twentieth century from
research into victims of war, on the one hand, and victims of sexual and domestic
violence, on the other. Trauma theories usually highlight the importance of an
external stressor that causes experiences outside the range of the ordinary, and
involves “intense fear, helplessness, or horror”. Victims of violence, oppression, and
discrimination can certainly develop serious problems, but that depends on more
than the severity of the violence. Among other variables, social support, style of
attribution, and coping mediate the effects of violent experiences on trauma-symp-
toms. Cultural and religious influences may also inspire resilience in response to
the effects of trauma or even enable positive effects of trauma through what is called
“post-traumatic growth” (Tedeschi, R. G. & Calhoun, 2006).
23
In these emerging fields, spirituality and religion are awarded a somewhat

prominent place (Ai & Park, 2005). The importance of integrating spirituality in
the treatment of victims is often stressed. Some researchers found that guilt and
weakened religious faith are central to the prolonged use of mental health services
and concluded that questions of meaning and spirituality deserve more attention
in the treatment of PTSD (Fontana & Rosenheck, 2004). Others discovered that for
survivors of violent trauma general spiritual beliefs were associated with physical
and mental health, trauma-related distress, posttraumatic symptom severity, and
growth (Cadell et al., 2003; Connor et al., 2003). Contrary to all this, still other
researchers found little or no effect for religion (Krejci et al., 2004), so that we need
more research to specify the conditions necessary for religion to have a salutary effect.
The effect of traumatization on religiosity is again ambiguous. Some studies
report a negative effect on religious beliefs and representations of God, but only in
cases of severe traumatization or complex PTSD (Doehring, 1993). Yet other studies
showed fewer or contrasting effects with experiences of victimization correlating
with transcendent religious experiences and stronger religious beliefs (Carmil &
Breznitz, 1991; Kennedy & Drebing, 2002). One could hypothesize that traumatic
events reduce well-being, which in turn invokes an increase in spirituality as a
coping process to restore well-being. All of these studies, however, are too diverse in
types of violence, severity of traumatization, measures of religion, and outcomes to
provide a meaningful synthesis. We are only beginning to understand the different
effects victimization may have on religion for different persons in varied situations.
Further research could draw on studies in the fields of religious coping, forgiveness,
and posttraumatic growth to develop more differentiated inquiries.
For our conversations here, however, we need to move beyond the individual psy-
chological level and ask how religion plays a role in construction the drama triangle
and in self-positioning in the role of the victim. Both Muslim migrants—including
refugees and, for example, second-generation Dutch citizens—and right-wing Isla-
mophobes invoke religion as part of their identity politics. According to the latter,
the influx of Muslims and the terrorist threat directly target the “Jewish-Christian
heritage and identity” of Europe. The victims identified in this narrative are the
ordinary European citizens; more specifically they regularly mention the Jewish
population and homosexuals as vulnerable groups. Interestingly, these right-wing
movements have a very ambiguous history when it comes to religion, homosexual-
ity, and the Jewish minority. There is reason to doubt their motives in this respect
and to wonder whether their implication of religion is more than rhetorical. At
the same time, Muslim minorities may also play the religious card in claiming
their minority identity. There is ample evidence that identification with Islam can
be stronger in a minority context than in the country of origin, especially among
young individuals who rebelliously disaffiliate themselves from the values of their
culture and religion and engage in antisocial behavior. They may nevertheless use
religious reasoning to oppose Western values and customs by calling them “har-
am” (forbidden). The sometimes aggressive response to Western liberal discourse
and to Islam-critical cartoons and texts uses the same combination of religious
intolerance and minority positioning by claiming that this use of the freedom of
expression victimizes the religious minorities. Just like the aggressors, victims can
use religion to legitimize their position.
The Drama Triangle and Religion: the Bystander
The third position is dubbed ‘bystander’ and includes a variety of roles when wit-
nessing violence. In the Karpman drama triangle this position is that of the res-
cuer, seeking to intervene on behalf of the victim. In other cases, however, passing
judgment, endorsing the violence, or merely witnessing the horrific may define the
role of the bystander. In trying to understand the role of religion in the bystander
position, we can start by looking at what happens when people watch violence.
This is an area of scarce research but major relevance. There have been some
studies exploring the meaning of watching violent sports, videogames, cinema,
television, and religion (Goldstein, 1998). It is claimed that violence is and always
has been an important element in popular culture, evidenced by gladiator fights,
medieval tournaments, action games, horror movies, and so on. Apparently, viewing
violence—both real and fictional—has a certain appeal, more to boys and men than
to girls and women. The effects of watching violence are quite diverse. Research
has consistently shown a correlation between watching violence and subsequent
aggressive or violent behavior, but there are also reports of subsequent apathy or
heightened stress and possible traumatization following the viewing of violence.
These differences display how in viewing violence the individual can move from
the role of the bystander to the role of the aggressor or to that of the victim.
The connection between viewing violence and religion is not coincidental. To
begin with, watching violence has a certain ominous quality that appeals and
appalls. It seems meaningful to understand violence as a dimension of the Sacred
in its life-giving and destructive shapes. The mysterium tremendum ac fascinans—
Rudolf Otto—is found also in violence and it is here that taboos serve to control
the encounter with the Sacred. A second direct connection between watching
violence and religion is found in the violent images and stories that characterize
the religious traditions. Literal violence appears, for example, in biblical stories of
25
the exodus of Israel from Egypt, the crucifixion of Jesus, and the last judgment.
It is also present in certain religious practices like sacrifice, initiation rituals (like
circumcision) or religiously inspired terror. On the symbolic level, rituals like the
Christian Eucharist (a model of sacrifice) and baptism (a symbol of drowning)
express metaphorical violence (Bloch, 1998). Religious imagery is usually packed
with violence, as we can see in the many narratives of saints and martyrs. This
inevitably sanctions viewing violence.
The religious authorization of violence can turn into outright complicity (Gu-
dorf, 1992). The role of the bystander can function to maintain the structures of
violence. In many cases, the aggressors can perform their acts of violence without
consequences because they operate in a social system that endorses their position of
power. As a consequence of this support, such acts are not even labeled as violence.
The victims are being excluded from the community and the perpetrators retain
their position. It is not easy for a community to acknowledge possible complicity
or to address the question whether the community’s religion has fostered violence.
They usually refuse to see that violence is part of their tradition, community life,
and religious heritage.
In terms of social psychology, group identity is built on the difference between
in-group and out-group. Therefore, any religious community endeavors to increase
inside conformity and decrease the similarity with the outside. Successful com-
munities have a clear boundary and some sense of exclusivism (Stark, 1996). The
community always demands a minimum of exclusive dedication to be meaningful
to its members. This exclusivism may be labeled violent because it forces its members
to conform and to bring sacrifices: material offerings, intellectual adaptation, and
a restraint of the freedom to speak or act. The religious community invokes divine
powers to achieve this and the resistance to this force equals resistance to God.
At the same time, the encounter with the outside or with other religious groups
represents a conflict of truth claims, a conflict of gods so to speak.
In the role of the bystander the connection between religion and violence is
usually rather opaque because complicity, social exclusion, out-group aversion, and
cultural violence are not acknowledged as such. Instead, bystanders claim a more
neutral or beneficent role. It is, however, precisely in the role of the bystander that
religion and violence may be most closely knit together.
This raises new and important questions regarding the bystanders in the current
connected crises of terrorism on the one hand and the refugee influx on the other.
The bystanders, notably the societal actors and public opinion in, for example,
Western Europe, Russia, and the United States, play a significant role in deciding
who counts as victim and who counts as perpetrator. They seem generally unwill-
ing to attribute “victim” status to refugees at large and try to limit the group that
can be legitimately identified as such. Meanwhile there is a tendency to conflate

the categories of victim and perpetrator when asylum seekers are seen as poten-
tial terrorists. Finally, most actors do not acknowledge their historical role in the
emergence of the current situation.
Conclusion
The relationship between religion and violence is complex and dynamic. In the
current European crisis of terrorism and high numbers of asylum seekers, the
Karpman triangle of victims, perpetrators, and bystanders is constantly in motion,
which makes it very complicated to arrive at a consensual analysis of the situation
and to overcome the present social and political polarization.
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Violence vs. Religion
Ferid Muhic
A History of Anti-Religious Prejudice
By demonstrating in his lifelong research that aggression is universally present

and immanent in all forms of highly organized life, Nobel Prize winner Conrad
Lorenz (1973) proved that the roots of violence are much older than the history of
organized human society, or even of the human race, for that matter . As for human
society, it is an undeniable fact that aggression, violence and warfare have always
been a part of human existence, and key components of political life .
Bearing this in mind, we could safely conclude that it was the European wars
of the 16th and 17th centuries that helped create what has been called “the myth
of religious violence” . The massacres unseen before or after in Europe in the wars
between Protestants and Catholics during the Reformation killed 35% of the pop-
ulation of Western Europe . Yet although the conflicts are interpreted exclusively
as religious wars, it is necessary to point out that these wars, brutal as they were,
clearly had a political background . It all started when the princes of Germany and
the other kings of Western Europe declared open war against the Holy Roman
Emperor, Charles V, and his ambition to establish a European hegemony .
That the wars of religion were not motivated by religious issues is suggested by
the fact that Protestants and Catholics were often fighting on the same side, against
Catholic and Protestant opponents . Thus, Catholic France repeatedly fought the
Catholic Habsburgs, who were regularly supported by some of the Protestant princes .
In the French wars of religion (1562–98) and in the Thirty Years War with England,
confessional lines were crossed more often than not . At least until the 18th century,
it was very difficult, if not impossible, to draw a clear line between religious motives
and social motives in conflicts and wars in Western Europe .
At that time, Europe was divided into smaller states, a situation which led to
chronic wars for new territories . To make military action free from the control of
31
32 Ferid Muhic
religion the role of the church was gradually but constantly marginalized through
the transfer of power. Eventually, supreme authority and resources were confiscated
and removed by the monarch(s). The word “secularization” was coined in the late
16th century, and its original meaning refers to “the transfer of goods from the
possession of the church into that of the world”. Since the concept of secularization
was derived from the social premises that required the separation of religious in-
stitutions from government, “the world” referred to the secular ruler, thus giving
him or her total control over society and putting absolute power in his or her hands.
In light of the fact that this process led to a weaker position of the church and
its marginalization in the pyramid of social power, it may seem unexpected that
it was not only supported, but even initiated by the Church itself. However, it was
Martin Luther who proposed the separation of Church and State. According to
him, the Church alone was incapable of controlling all aspects of human behavior.
This is why it was the State’s supreme duty to control human behavior by force.
Paradoxical as it may appear, Luther’s view of religion as a personal private issue
over which the state had no jurisdiction ended in the separation of the State and
the Church as the key factor in the formation of the modern secular ideal. Even
more paradoxical is the fact that for Luther a secular society does not entail a dem-
ocratic or liberal state. During “The Peasant War” in Germany in 1525 he strongly
supported the right of the State to mercilessly slaughter the rebellious peasants.
According to him, anyone who refuses to unconditionally submit to the authority
of the secular State commits the magnum crimen—the cardinal sin; for Luther,
suffering was the punishment they deserved, so that neither their lives nor their
property should be spared.
Violence as an Intrinsic Part of Modern Secular Society
As we watch TV reports from the Middle East, Syria, Iraq, Afghanistan, Yemen,
and Libya, we necessarily raise the question of the connection between violence and
religion. As we contemplate the greatest genocides completed on the three conti-
nents of the Americas and Australia, committed by Christian conquistadores and
pioneers, as well as genocides and the Holocaust performed by secular European
states with almost 100% Christian populations, which are all too often ignored or
overlooked, we transform this question into a totally irrational accusation of Muslims
for things they have never done. Today, due to the systematic propaganda of such
fabricated stories spread by mass media as well as through all levels of education,
many people are inclined to believe that Sam Harris was right to claim that Muslims
Violence vs. Religion 33
are savage lunatic killers, utterly deranged by their religious faith, and to declare
that religion itself produces a kind of perverse solidarity which society must find
some way to undercut.1 Many will also agree with Richard Dawkins that “… only
religious faith is a strong enough force to motivate such utter madness in otherwise
sane and decent people” (2006, 303).2 Even those who find these statements too
extreme may be seduced and led astray into the twilight zone, to the most distant
periphery of common sense, and even to accept the colossal nonsense that, after
all, there must be a violent essence inherent in religion, which inevitably forces
people to mutual hatred.3
Despite all of the substantial evidence which proves that violence has nothing
to do with the essence of Christianity or that of Islam, many will blindly and
stubbornly insist on the opposite. Oddly enough, even contemporary political
theory holds that “fanatical bigotry” is intrinsic to religion and that it can only
be efficiently prevented by the creation of a liberal state that separates politics and
religion. Bearing in mind that the concept of religion as a purely private pursuit,
distinct from politics, was created on the premise of social changes that happened
in Western Europe during a particular period of its history, it is quite surprising
that we still hold that separating the Church from the State was a prerequisite for
peace. Today a majority of the citizens in the EU take for granted that secularism
emerged spontaneously or through the influence of mysterious, inexorable laws of
social evolution which eventually culminated in modern liberal democracy as the
supreme fulfillment of all of history.
But the fact is that secularism was introduced by human beings, systematically
planned and dictated by their very concrete and prosaic interests. Its real intention
was to separate the Church from the State and its final goal was to give a free hand
to the State so that it could follow its interests by all disposable means, including
the absolute right to arbitrarily use violence.
1 Although Harris criticizes the Abrahamic religions in general, most concretely in his
book The End of Faith (2004), he is best known for his notorious, irrational, and extremely
aggressive hatred of Muslims and Islam. His books Letter to a Christian Nation (2006),
and Islam and the Future of Tolerance (2015) are paradigmatic examples of religious
jingoism.
2 See also T. Jerome (2013). “Atheists Richard Dawkins, Christopher Hitchens and Sam
Harris face Islamophobia backlash”. The Independent.
3 For an extremely superficial, albeit hysterical, attack on religion, inspired by anti-
religious mania and characterized by its total absence of elementary knowledge about
the phenomenon of spirituality, see R. Dawkins. (2005). “Coming out against religious
mania”, The Huffington Post.
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34 Ferid Muhic
The Rise of the Liberal State
By the late 17th century, philosophers took into more systematic consideration the
secular ideal. John Locke, the author of the famous treatise A Letter Concerning
Toleration, following Luther’s idea, insisted that the Church itself was a thing
absolutely separate and distinct from the commonwealth and that the boundaries
on both sides were fixed and immovable. On this pretext Locke accused religion
of inspiring violent passions and proposed the strict division of religion from the
State as a necessary and sufficient condition for peace in society. Obviously, this
position was all but tolerant. In fact, it introduced the hierarchy between the State
and the Church, delegating to the State all instruments of power necessary for the
fulfillment of its goals. This became obvious in the fact that, according to Locke,
the liberal State should tolerate neither Catholics nor Muslims. In his proposed
“liberal” state, only the adherents of the Anglican Church were permitted to enjoy
religious freedom. However, Locke warns the government not to allow the slightest
influence of religion on politics.
Despite his discussion of the natural human rights to life, liberty, and property,
and with all the shortcomings contained in the first draft of the American Declaration
of Independence (in the original text “Negroes”, “Indians” and racially mixed men
were explicitly excluded from these rights), Locke’s liberal theory included slavery
as a legal institution. Due to his opinion and the lucrative profits associated with
the practice, slavery persisted in the United States for 90 years after the Declaration
of Independence was issued. It is worth remembering that Locke’s liberal doctrine
blatantly defends a master’s absolute, arbitrary, and despotic power over a slave,
which included his power to kill the slave at any time.
It would also be correct to point out the fact that the theory of liberalism and
the practice of secularization was closely linked to the process of the colonization,
not only of the so-called New World, but also to that of huge territories in Africa,
Asia, Australia and New Zealand. Furthermore, colonization by Britain, Belgium,
Spain, Portugal, Holland and to a lesser extent by Germany and Russia often led to
acts of genocide and the decimation of local populations. The leading proponents of
the secular State strongly supported its practice of creating new colonies through
military occupation of all the territories they could subjugate. One of the leading
liberal thinkers of the secular State—John Locke—claimed that the native peoples
had no right to life, liberty, or property. He concluded that the people in America,
or in any other territory which had not reached the level of the secular liberal state,
had no legal right of ownership of their territory. The aggressive politics of secular
states uncompromisingly insisted on the forcible introduction of secularism in
the occupied societies, which is in contradiction with their traditional political
organization and value systems. The traditional social models and value systems
of local populations as well as their human rights were totally ignored, even in the
countries with cultural traditions which had lasted for millennia. It was exactly
this practice that inspired and stimulated the modern complex of superiority and
arrogance in Western colonizing countries towards the citizens of the countries
that once were colonized, an attitude that still prevails in many Western countries.
A clear example of this observation is the fact that, according to the standards of
the secular ideology dominant in modern Western countries, Muslim societies
were and still are seen as backward and their populations are treated as inferior,
so much so that they deserve to be punished for refusing to give up their cultural
traditions, religious beliefs, and value systems, and for not willingly adopting the
secular model of their colonizers.
As for the development of liberal democracy, the secular State very soon abused
religious feelings, proclaiming a status of sanctity (new deity) for the secular State
itself. In the beginning of the 19th century, with the Napoleonic wars, the concept of
the nation state was promoted to become the surrogate of God. Thus, by borrowing
from religion the concept of absolute loyalty owed to God, the secular State claimed
that citizens owed that same absolute loyalty only to it. This new allegiance led to
the belief that it was the duty of citizens to die for their country or their people,
but not for their religion. The fact that, to some Muslims, Islam and Muhammad
represent the supreme values, to which they feel they owe supreme loyalty, explains
the cultural misunderstanding and clarifies the essence of the political attacks
against the Charlie Hebdo journalists. There is an obvious danger that such devo-
tion to ethnic identity and/or State (a point emphatically stressed by Hegel) could
do great injustice to the citizens who do not fit into ethnic/nation/state standards
imposed by the modern secular state.
The contemporary situation makes plausible these worst fears. Religious groups
other than Christians, especially Muslims, perhaps more than ever before, are con-
sidered inferior, accused of extremism, perceived as intrinsic terrorists, and, as such,
are doomed to be reduced, exterminated, and put in a condition of dependence. The
case of Anders Behring Breivik is a tragic example of the consequences that may
result from the fanatical and irrational hatred of Islam and Muslims. At the same
time it illustrates the alarmingly high level of differing public and institutional
perceptions of acts of violence committed for ideological motives, perpetrated by
both Muslims and non-Muslims. In the whole judiciary process against Anders
Breivik, who killed 77 young people and wounded hundreds in an act which was
explicitly motivated by his hatred of Muslims and Islam, Breivik was not once
labeled as a “terrorist”, nor was his crime officially labeled an act of terrorism. At
the same time, any expression of violent behavior, even without human victims,
35
36 Ferid Muhic
when committed by a Muslim, is instantly identified as “terrorism” by all mass

media outlets and the person committing the acts is labeled an “Islamic terrorist”.4
In accordance with its needs, the secular nation-state strongly encouraged the
perennial ideals of the equality of all human beings, thus compromising its intrinsic
inegalitarian character. But the temptation was too strong and the prospects for
extremely lucrative effects were irresistible. Developing industry required more
and more workers. In order to handle these new work processes workers needed at
least an elementary level of education. For the first time the practice of democratic
elections opened the voting booths to women, instituting, at least formally, the
equality of all races, ethnic, and religious groups. This led, for example, to a quite
unexpected tolerance toward Jews who were previously discriminated against,
thereby resulting in their inclusion in the social and political life of Western Europe
by the end of 19th century. The same happened to Catholics in England and the
United States who were also introduced into social and political life as potentially
important human resources and prospective political supporters.
But as soon as these needs came into conflict with the higher aspirations of secular
states, the politics of formal equality and tolerance were replaced by harsh discrim-
ination against ethnic and cultural minorities. In most or many cases the ethnic
minorities were overnight subjected to the tragic destiny of heretics as the object
of resentment in the new nation-states. Thus Thomas Jefferson, one of the leading
proponents of the Enlightenment in the United States, instructed his Secretary of
War in 1807 that Native Americans were “backward peoples” who must either be
“exterminated” or driven “beyond our reach” to the other side of the Mississippi
“with the beasts of the forest”. Even today, descendants of native peoples in the
USA are officially defined as the “members of defeated nations”, which sounds like
and indeed is a synonym for “war prisoners”. Anti-Semitism in Western Europe
also had its roots in the ambitions of the secular State during roughly the same
period. In 1808, when Napoleon issued the “infamous decrees” denying the Jews
of France their ethnic and religious rights, it was only the first step of what led the
secular nation state of Germany to the Holocaust during the Second World War.
The historic development of the modern secular state based on liberal democracy
would be repeated with much stronger force and brutality when secularization was
introduced in the colonies. The greatest pressure was to be put on Muslim countries
where the traditional systems of life and values had been preserved almost intact.
Predictably, secularism was perceived by the populations of these countries as an
4 See, for instance, the incident involving Mevludin Jasharevic in Sarajevo, October 2011,
in which nobody was hurt or wounded (except him). In a process that lasted only a few
days, M. Jasharevic was declared a terrorist and was sentenced to 15 years in prison.
open attack on the very basic fundamentals of their lives. And since it was connected
with harsh colonial rule, it was fiercely rejected as radically harmful, if not fatal,
for both their way of life and traditional value systems.
This explains why in almost every region of the world where secular govern-
ments have been forcibly established with the goal of separating religion and
politics, a counter-cultural movement has developed in response, determined to
bring religion back into public life as the most promising way to mobilize people
to defend their cultural identity and traditional way of life. If we keep in mind
that in practically all countries with significant Muslim populations secularization
was introduced by force, we can easily understand why this practice was seen as
cruel, violent, and invasive. Almost without exception the practice of aggressive
secularization was ill-adapted to the mentality of the native population and their
social reality, and when implemented by brute force, resulted in violent reaction.
To quote Karen Armstrong:
Every fundamentalist movement that I have studied in Judaism, Christianity and

Islam is rooted in a profound fear of annihilation, convinced that the liberal or sec-
ular establishment is determined to destroy their way of life. This has been tragically
apparent in the Middle East (2014, 11).
Unfortunately, this fear has proven to be even more tragically justified these days.
As a very strong argument in defense of the thesis that religion is not intrinsically
connected with violence, it is necessary to remember that, in Europe more than
thirteen centuries ago, the tradition of states based on religious tolerance was set.
Most importantly, these states were not secular. Beginning in 711, when al-Andalus
(Andalusia) was founded as the first European Muslim state, and lasting for more
than seven centuries, Muslims, Jews, and Christians continuously lived together
with religious and cultural rights officially guaranteed by the state—the Muslim
state! After the fall of Granada in 1492, the last Muslim state in this part of Europe,
all Muslims and Jews were expelled, and later on their descendants (Moriscos,
Marranos), who had been forcibly converted to Christianity, were persecuted and
slaughtered. Since the fall of this European Muslim state, the practice of religious
tolerance as state policy ceased to exist in the westernmost parts of Europe. But more
than a century before this happened, the capital of the Ottoman State was moved
from Bursa to Edirne, on European soil, in 1358. This created another European
Muslim state where the practice of cultural and religious tolerance guaranteed by
the supreme state authority—the Islamic law of Shari’a—was instituted. Firmly
established in Europe’s easternmost parts, including the whole of the Balkans and
large parts of central Europe, it lasted for about 550 years, until the end of Otto-
man State in 1922. Soon after the fall of this European Muslim state, ethnic and
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38 Ferid Muhic
religious tolerance was abandoned even in the Balkans. Mustafa Kemal Ataturk
from the Turkish side and Venizelos from the Greek side, demographically, cul-
turally, and ethnically partitioned the region, leading to Venizelos’ deportation of
Turkish-speaking Muslims from the newly established state of Greece to Turkey,
and Ataturk’s expulsion of Greek Greek Christians living in Turkey to Greece.
The Error of Forced Secularization
That the secular State in itself proved to be intolerant while fulfilling its strategic
goals can be seen from the practices of not only the states with Christian major-
ities, but also of the states with Muslim majority populations. With the forcible
introduction of a secular state in Iran in 1928, Reza Shah Pahlavi issued the laws
of uniformity of dress; his soldiers tore off women’s veils with bayonets and ripped
them to pieces in the street. In 1935, the police were ordered to open fire on a
crowd who had staged a peaceful demonstration against the dress laws in one of
the holiest shrines of Iran, killing hundreds of unarmed civilians. Policies like
this made veiling, which has no justification in the Qur’an, an emblem of Islamic
authenticity in many parts of the Muslim world, including the Balkan states. The
seemingly inexplicable decision of so many young women in the Balkans today to
accept the practice of covering can be understood as a symbolic expression of the
finally regained freedom of religious choice.
The fact that some Muslims today emphatically refuse to accept the implemen-
tation of secularism is a direct consequence of the forcible secularization which
was imposed in many Muslim countries. There is an obvious contradiction in
the West’s devotion to the separation of religion and politics and its ideals such
as equality, democracy and freedom. In 1992, a military coup in Algeria ousted
a president who had promised democratic reforms and imprisoned the leaders of
the Islamic Salvation Front (FIS), which seemed certain to gain a majority in the
forthcoming elections. Had the democratic process been thwarted in such an un-
constitutional manner in non-secular states such as Iran or Pakistan, there would
have been worldwide outrage. But because it was an Islamic government which
had been blocked by the coup, there was jubilation in the Western press—as if this
undemocratic action had instead made Algeria safe for democracy. In much the
same way there was an almost audible sigh of relief in the West when the Muslim
Brotherhood was ousted from power in Egypt, while there has been less attention
to the violence of the secular military dictatorship that replaced it, a government
which has exceeded the abuses of the Mubarak regime.
There can be no doubt that secularism has been of great benefit to the Western
countries where it was developed after a painful history of dramatic and long-lasting
violent practice. Yet this does not mean that it should be imposed in a cut-and-
paste manner on other countries. If the values of freedom, dignity, and human
rights are what count most, then the right to organize one’s society in accordance
with its own social, historical, and cultural premises must be respected without
exception; forcible, aggressive military intervention should not be allowed under
any pretext. It does not matter that the exponents of the secular state regard “reli-
gion” as intrinsically violent, intolerant, backward, and atavistic while seeing the
State based on liberal democracy as peaceable and humane. It still does not give
them any right whatsoever to propose military intervention (regardless of latent
threat or actual deployment) in order to forcibly impose the transformation of a
traditionally religious society into a secular state.
The arrogance of the colonialist view of indigenous peoples as “primitive” is still
a predominant attitude in the politics of some countries, although this arrogance is
responsible for cultural misunderstandings with disastrous implications, tragically
epitomized by the military aggressions and the reactions to them during the last
fifty years since the Vietnam War. Applied by force in any country, secularization
has always led to great intra-ethnic and intrastate conflict. When applied by force
from a foreign country, it has always provoked a desperate reaction. This clearly
demonstrates that fundamentalist movements without exception are reactive in
their essence and that they lose their energy only when aggressive secularization
comes to an end.
Today, in these times of turbulence, confrontation among religious groups, and
political violence, more than ever before the future of our world depends on socially
organized, politically supported action inspired by the ideals of mutual respect
and inter-religious understanding that is combined with a personal dedication to
preserving the basic values of humanism and peace.
References
Armstrong, K. (2000). The battle for god: Fundamentalism in Judaism, Christianity and
Islam. New York: Knopf/Harper Collins.
Armstrong, K. (2014). Fields of blood: Religion and the history of violence. London: Bodley Head.
Asad, T. (2003). Formations of the secular: Christianity, Islam, modernity. Stanford: Stanford
University Press.
Dawkins, R. (2006). The God delusion. London: Bantam Books.
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40 Ferid Muhic
Feldman, N. (2005). Divided by God. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux.
Harris, S. (2004). The end of faith: Religion, terror and the future of reason. New York: W.
W. Norton.
Harris, S. (2006). Letter to a Christian nation. Knopf: New York.
Harris, S., & Nawaz, M. (2015). Islam and the future of tolerance. Harvard: Harvard Uni-
versity Press.
Holyoake, G. J. (1898). The origin and nature of secularism. London: Watts & Co.
Jacoby, S. (2004). Freethinkers: a history of American secularism. New York: Metropolitan
Books.
Kosmin, Barry A. & Keysar, A. (Eds.). (2007). Secularism and secularity: Contemporary
international perspectives. Hartford, CT: Institute for the Study of Secularism in Society
and Culture (ISSSC).
Nash, D. (1992). Secularism, art and freedom. London: Continuum International.
Smith, G. (2008). A short history of secularism. London: I.B. Tauris.
Violence and Religion:
A Complex Relationship
Wolfgang Palaver
Contemporary Terrorism Leads to an Identification of

Violence with Religion
Terrorist attacks by religiously motivated people have led to an identification

of violence with religion . We just have to remember the attacks of 9/11, the two
attacks in Paris that happened in 2015, or many other recent acts of terrorism
that have been committed all over the world . This identification of violence with
religion strengthens a widespread bias against religion in the Western world . In
fact, many people in Western Europe have a critical attitude towards religion . The
1998 International Social Survey Program study found that over two-thirds of the
population in every Western European country sees religion as “intolerant” and a
majority of the same population—with the interesting exceptions of Norway (39%)
and Sweden (43%)—holds the view that “religion creates conflict” (Greeley, 2004,
77-80; cf . Casanova, 2008) . It is, of course, true that especially at the beginning of
Western modernity excesses of religious violence characterized our world . We just
have to look at the so-called European wars of religion between 1520 and 1648 that
resulted in one of the bloodiest periods in modern Western history (Pinker, 2011,
293; cf . Palaver, Rudolph, & Regensburger, 2016) . The cruelty in these wars was
so exorbitant that terms like “massacre” or “cannibal” became part of common
parlance during these years (Jacoby, 2011, 12) .
A history of religiously motivated intolerance accompanied the modern world
from its beginnings onwards . Voltaire’s famous call for tolerance in 1763 constituted
a reaction to the execution of the Protestant merchant Jean Calas who was falsely
accused of having killed his own son for converting to Catholicism . We can even
find a European case of forced emigration for religious reasons in 1837 when 427
Protestants had to leave their homes in Tyrol .
41
42 Wolfgang Palaver
Today terrorist attacks by religiously motivated people have further contributed

to the identification of religion with violence that is so widely shared by many people
in the West. The terrorist attacks of 9/11 became a screaming symbol against all
religions. Because these terrorists expressed religious motives—all of them stood
for a jihadist interpretation of Islam—they indirectly strengthened a critique of
religion that is as old as the Enlightenment calling for the abolishment of religion
due to its affinity with violence.
Two well-known examples can illustrate this position. Immediately after the
attacks of 9/11 the Portuguese writer and Nobel Laureate José Saramago criticized
all religions for their complicity with violence:
No religion, without exception, will ever serve to bring men together and reconcile
them. They have been and will continue to be a cause of unspeakable sufferings, of
carnage, or of monstrous physical and spiritual acts of violence that constitute one
of the darkest chapters in human history. (Quoted in Eco, 2011, xiii)
Even more well known is the critique of the evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins
who sharply denounced religions for their affinity with violence in his bestselling
book The God Delusion:
Imagine … a world with no religion. Imagine no suicide bombers, no 9/11, no 7/7, no

Crusades, no witch-hunts, no Gunpowder Plot, no Indian partition, no Israeli/Palestin-
ian wars, no Serb/Croat/Muslim massacres, no persecution of Jews as ‘Christ-killers’,
no Northern Ireland ‘troubles’, no ‘honour killings’... Imagine no Taliban to blow up
ancient statues, no public beheadings of blasphemers, no flogging of female skin for
the crime of showing an inch of it. (Dawkins, 2006, 1-2)
Human Beings, not Religions, Cause Violence
Such sweeping accusations remain, however, much too superficial, and do not allow
a sober evaluation of the phenomenon of human violence because a closer look at
the last three centuries with all their violent excesses does not show that religion
bears direct responsibility: the French Revolution, the Napoleonic Wars, civil wars in
Russia and China, the two World Wars, the Holocaust, the genocides of Stalin, Mao,
or Pol Pot, or the Vietnam war can hardly be seen as having been caused by religion.
These acts of violence are instead rooted in nationalism, fanaticism, and ideology.
Not only believers or people with a positive attitude towards religion recog-
nize that it is much too simple to see religion as the sole root of violence. André
Comte-Sponville, a French philosopher committed to atheism and materialism,
Violence and Religion: A Complex Relationship 43
does not overlook in his The Little Book of Atheist Spirituality all those examples
that show how religions contributed to violence, while at the same time he refers
in the end to human beings, as such, and not to religions when he looks for the
causes of violence:
What incites people to commit massacres is not faith; it is fanaticism, whether religious
or political. It is intolerance. It is hatred. Believing in God can be dangerous. We need
only remember the massacre of Saint Bartholomew’s Day, the Crusades, the wars of
religion, the Jihad, the September 11 attacks ... Not believing in God can be equally
dangerous. We need only remember Stalin, Mao Tsetung or Pol Pot... Who will add
up the deaths on either side and decide what they mean? Horror is numberless, with
or without God. Alas, this tells us more about humanity than it does about religion.
(Comte-Sponville, 2007, 76)
As a matter of fact it is really we human beings who are mainly responsible for all
the acts of violence in our world. The most dangerous people are probably those
who see themselves as completely free from this temptation towards violence and
who therefore feel completely justified in brutally hunting down those who seem
to be the sole perpetrators of violence. The French-American literary critic and
anthropologist René Girard, who reflected again and again on the relationship
between violence and religion, justly warns us to resist the temptation to scapegoat
religion in order to free ourselves from any responsibility: “The violence we would
love to transfer to religion is really our own, and we must confront it directly. To
turn religions into the scapegoats of our own violence can only backfire in the
end.” (Girard, 2004, 20)
It was the Austrian writer Robert Musil who by reflecting on his experiences
during the First World War also rejected typical modern claims that cannibalism
is something of the past. He became convinced that human beings may turn into
cannibals at any time: “Human nature is as capable of cannibalism as it is of the
Critique of Pure Reason” (Musil, 1995a, I 391; cf. Musil, 1995b, 121)
Any critique of religion that is based on its affinity with violence is complicated
by the fact that very often the concept of religion remains unclear and that a broad
understanding of it diminishes tremendously its explanatory power. An example
for this observation can be found in Steven Pinker’s historical study of violence,
The Better Angels of our Nature (Pinker, 2011, 676-678). Pinker, who claims to be
an atheist, avoids a superficial critique of religion that sees it as the sole cause of
violence. He refers instead to ideology and recognizes the potential for peace that
can be found in many religions. On the other hand, however, he also rejects all
claims that declare the violent ideologies of fascism, or Marxism to be atheistic phe-
nomena. In regard to fascism he refers to the collaboration of the Catholic Church
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44 Wolfgang Palaver
with such regimes, to Hitler’s belief that he was an instrument of God’s providence,
and to those many Christians who enthusiastically followed the German Führer.
In regard to Marxism, Pinker admits at first that it is an ideology without God,
but he also emphasizes that its violent eschatology must be seen as an imitation of
biblical and Christian teachings.
In the end, Pinker reduces religion to a purely immanent and human matter
that follows roughly broader social and intellectual currents. Influenced by the
Enlightenment, religions may turn towards this direction and reform themselves,
but when influenced by fundamentalist forces they fight against such developments.
“It is when fundamentalist forces stand athwart those currents and impose tribal,
authoritarian, and puritanical constraints that religion becomes a force for violence”
(Pinker, 2011, 678) In Pinker’s study, the concept of religion loses its explanatory
power. We come to a similar conclusion if we understand nationalism that caused
so much violence in the last century as a religious phenomenon. In this case the
terms religion and violence merge with each other and we can no longer explain
the phenomenon itself.
Mimetic Rivalries as the Main Cause for Human Violence
The complex relationship between violence and religion demands careful analysis,
which I will undertake by following René Girard’s mimetic theory (cf. Palaver,
2013b, 2013a). Not aggression, but rather competition is, according to Girard, the
main source of human violence:
Most anthropologists and sociologists still define violence as aggression, but human
violence is not aggressive. The word ‘aggression’ is itself very aggressive because if we
define violence as aggression, it’s a characteristic that nobody would acknowledge
in himself. We define violence as something that pertains to others; it’s they who
are aggressive, or aggressors. But it isn’t true. There is no form of violence in which
the actors overtly identify as violent aggressors. Man is essentially competitive and
inclined to rivalry. He wants to outdo his neighbor, and so he competes with him.
Human intelligence, the spirit of initiative, is basically competitive. So it can have great
value, as we well know. But it becomes violence when the degree of competition rises
to the point of spilling over into destructive rivalry. (Vattimo & Girard, 2010, 59-60)
By referring to competition Girard declares mimetic or imitative desire to be a

main cause of rivalries and violence. Whenever human beings imitate each other
and therefore desire the same objects, which they cannot share or enjoy together,
they are easily forced into escalating rivalries and violence. Jonathan Sacks, the
former Chief Rabbi of the United Hebrew Congregations of the Commonwealth,

recently published a book on the relationship between violence and religion that
draws heavily on Girard’s mimetic theory by showing that sibling rivalry is at the
root of many human conflicts: “Sibling rivalry plays a central role in human con-
flict, and it begins with mimetic desire, the desire to have what your brother has, or
even be what your brother is” (Sacks, 2015, 90). It is more likely that brothers who
are close to each other are drawn into mimetic rivalries than complete strangers
who are not able to imitate each others’ desires. It is therefore not by chance that
the Book of Genesis, the first book of the Hebrew Bible, strongly underscores the
difficult relationship between brothers and close siblings. The story about Cain and
Abel is a powerful illustration of the dangers that mimetic desire brings with it.
According to Sacks, the relationship between the three Abrahamic religions is also
very much influenced by sibling rivalry: “It is now clear why Judaism, Christianity
and Islam have been locked in a violent, sometimes fatal embrace for so long. Their
relationship is sibling rivalry, fraught with mimetic desire: the desire for the same
thing, Abraham’s promise” (Sacks, 2015, 98).
Violence and the Sacred
It was through this anthropological insight, which Girard took as a starting point
in developing his thesis about the violent sacred, that he discovered at the center
of archaic religions and that turned out to be—seen from an evolutionary perspec-
tive—the first protective mechanism against human violence. According to Girard,
we can discover in archaic myths a first response to the dangers that accompany
the competitive relations among human beings:
The foundational myths of archaic religions suggest an answer. They describe the birth
of the religion to which they belong. They all begin with a mimetic crisis and conclude
with the same type of drama: a single victim is killed by the entire community and
is finally divinized. In the Oedipus myth, for instance, the citizens of Thebes firmly
believe that this hero not only killed his father and married his mother but also
brought a plague epidemic to the city of Thebes. Because of this, they believe that he
certainly deserves to be punished. Myths present their single victims as guilty and
the mobs who do the killing as innocent. (Girard, 2004, 10).
Many ancient myths refer to a primary crisis that endangered early tribal commu-
nities. This crisis was solved by a non-conscious collective event in which a single
individual who was seen as the sole initiator of the crisis was expelled or killed
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46 Wolfgang Palaver
by the tribe. Girard calls this event the scapegoat mechanism and underscores
its religious dimension by referring to the fact that the expelled or killed victim
is seen at the same time as absolutely evil because he or she caused the crisis and
also as absolutely good because he or she gave peace and harmony to the tribe by
being eliminated.
This double transference of cursing and blessing forms the core of the archaic
sacred. The scapegoat mechanism is identical with the origin of archaic religion.
It is for this reason that Girard claims in his book I See Satan Fall Like Lightning
that “the peoples of the world do not invent their gods” but “deify their victims”
(Girard, 2001, 70). Violence is, according to Girard, the “heart and secret soul of the
sacred” (Girard, 1977, 31). But—and this is very important to note—not for the sake
of violence, but rather in order to establish a relative peace of all-against-one that
can help to overcome the war of all-against-all, at least for a certain period of time.
Girard discovered traces of the scapegoat mechanism in many different myths.
His key example is the Oedipus myth, which tells us about a Greek hero who was
not only blamed for having caused the plague in Thebes, but who was later also
seen as a future provider of rich blessings, such that the people of both Thebes and
Athens wanted to have his gravesite inside their city.
The Abrahamic Exodus from Archaic Religions
Girard’s thesis about the violent sacred initially led many of his readers to the
assumption that he was an atheist critic of religion. But such an assessment would
deprive Girard’s mimetic theory of one of its central dimensions. His readings of
biblical texts led him to the insight that it was the Judeo-Christian revelation that
enabled human beings to expose the violent origins of human culture. Girard
discovered the fact that, contrary to the perspective of archaic myths, key passages
in the Bible side with the expelled or killed scapegoats of collective violence and
therefore bring the scapegoat mechanism to light. Here is a summary of his un-
derstanding of the Hebrew Bible:
In the prophetic texts of the Hebrew Bible, the perspective of the mob is condemned
and reversed. For example, Joseph’s brothers turn into a kind of ugly mob in their
behavior towards him. Job’s entire community acts with the solidarity of a mob. In
many psalms, the narrator watches helplessly as mobs surround him for the purpose,
it seems, of killing him. Many of the prophets were persecuted and even killed by
hostile mobs. The most spectacular example is the killing of the Suffering Servant
(Isaiah 52-53), whom the Gospels compare with Jesus. The prophetic literature is a
long march away from this violent social phenomenon that seems to have played an
enormous role in human cultures before and even after the arrival of judicial systems.
(Girard, 2004, 14)
According to Girard, the disclosure of the scapegoat mechanism that we can discover
in the Hebrew Bible finds its continuation in the Gospels of the New Testament:
The Gospels contain the same overall sequence as myths. Once again, there is a great
crisis at the beginning, the crisis of the small Jewish state under Roman occupation,
and it culminates in the drama of a single victim, Jesus, who is collectively killed and
later divinized by the Christians. But the difference is that the Gospels reverse the
verdict of the crowd in myths: the victim is innocent, and the mob is guilty. Especially
striking in the Gospels is the fact that the two perspectives—the mob’s and the vic-
tim’s—are displayed side by side. Almost everybody agrees with the local mob. The
dissenters are very few, but precarious as their perspective seems at first, it ultimately
triumphs for one essential reason, in my view: it happens to be true. (Girard, 2004, 15)
It is especially in the biblical story about Joseph that Girard found a counter-nar-
rative to the Oedipus myth. Whereas Oedipus was accused of having caused the
plague by his incestuous relationship with his own mother, the Hebrew Bible de-
clares Joseph, who faced similar accusations, to be innocent. The Bible sides with
the victimized Joseph and shares neither the perspective of his envious brothers
nor of his Egyptian accusers. Whereas Oedipus was turned by his persecutors into
something godlike after his expulsion, Joseph clearly rejected such an attempt by
his own brothers. Summing up, Girard concludes that the Biblical revelation has
dissolved “the confusion of the victimization process and the divine” giving “way
to an absolute separation of the two. [...] The Jewish religion no longer turns victims
into divinities or divinity into a victim.” (Girard, 2001, 121) The Jewish-Christian
revelation has led to a radical disenchantment of the archaic world of gods. From
this perspective it does not astonish at all that Judaism as well as Christianity were
early on accused of atheism. (cf. Lévinas, 1990, 15-16, 45, 143; Girard, 2008, 257)
Girard’s interpretation of the story of Joseph helps us to show that Islam also
shares this exodus from archaic religion that is typical of all Abrahamic religions.
In Surah 12 the Quran narrates the story of Joseph in a way that comes very close
to the Biblical account. Again, Joseph is described as a scapegoat who is rehabil-
itated by God.
In his later work Girard clearly distinguishes between the “sacred” and the
“holy” in order to differentiate between those two forms of religion that are at the
center of his mimetic theory (Girard, 2008, 218; cf. Girard, 2010). Whereas the
“sacred” refers to archaic religion, as it stems from the scapegoat mechanism, the
term “holy” is related to the exposure of the violent origins by the Holy Spirit. The
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48 Wolfgang Palaver
French philosopher Michel Serres summarized Girard’s distinction between the

sacred and the holy as follows:
The holy is distinguished from the sacred. The sacred kills, the holy pacifies. Non-
violent holiness roots out envy, jealousy, ambition for high position, sanctuaries of
mimeticism, and thus delivers us from rivalries that exasperate us toward the violence
of the sacred. Sacrifice devastates; sanctity gives birth. (Serres, 2009. 16)
Global Terrorism as a Perverted Offspring of the

Abrahamic Religions
With regard to violence, it is important to note that not only the sacred is closely
linked to it, but that the loss of a sense of sacrality may also be accompanied by
violence. Wherever the protective shell of the violent sacred is disenchanted, there
easily arises the risk of an escalation to extremes. It is for this reason that Girard
refers to the apocalyptic dimension that comes along with the Jewish-Christian
revelation, eventually leading to the self-destruction of humanity. The global ter-
rorism of today is related to the temptation to commit destructive violence, which
the biblical revelation indirectly made possible.
The archaic sacred solved the problem of human violence by shifting violence
to the religious sphere. By this, human beings were enabled to free themselves to
a certain degree from their own violence. Violence became a matter of the gods
who—seen from the perspective of archaic men—punish all evil-doers and regu-
larly demand human sacrifices. Rigid rituals characterized this world of the sacred
that detached violence from human arbitrariness. The old institution of the ordeal
belongs, for example, to this world of the violent sacred.
If we look at modern forms of religiously motivated violence, we realize that
the transfer of violence to the religious level, as was typical for the archaic world,
has been lost. Terrorists resort to violence by invoking God, but no longer trust in
divine intervention. They rely completely on their own power. Already in the 16th
century the French essayist Montaigne wondered why all those Christians who fought
against each other “expect from God no succour whatsoever” and ended by quoting
an ancient saying that “nothing is more deceitful than a depraved piety by which
the will of the gods serves as a pretext for crimes” (Montaigne, 2003, 1180-1181).
This temptation to act violently as an instrument of God has been indirectly
increased by the biblical exposure of the scapegoat mechanism. Whoever sides with
persecuted victims seems to be justified if he uses violence against the perpetrators.
We can already observe this attitude in the Crusades and in many cases of Chris-
tian persecution of Jews. Today there is no terrorist group in the world—secular

or religiously motivated—that does not present and justify itself as a defender of
victims (Palaver, 2013c).
Louise Richardson, an Irish political scientist specializing in the study of ter-
rorism, gave a powerful account of how contemporary terrorists see themselves as
victims of aggression that seems to justify their own violent acts:
Sociologist Mark Juergensmeyer asked Dr Abdul Aziz Rantisi, one of the founders
of Hamas (assassinated by Israel in April 2004), in what way he thought Hamas was
misunderstood. He said, ‘You think we are aggressors. That is the number-one mis-
understanding. We are not: we are victims.’ Bin Laden, characteristically, phrased it
more dramatically: ‘The truth is the whole Muslim world is the victim of international
terrorism, engineered by America and the United Nations.’ A member of the IRA
explained to Kevin Toolis why he joined the terrorist movement: ‘I knew that the IRA
were our defenders, looking after our interests, fighting for our rights. There was a
great sense of anger.’ On another occasion bin Laden used a homely analogy to explain
his followers’ behaviour: ‘Let us look at a chicken, for example. If an armed person
was to enter the chicken’s home with the aim of inflicting harm on it, the chicken
would automatically fight back.’ Seeing oneself as a victim who is fighting defensively,
of course, makes it altogether easier to justify one’s action. (Richardson, 2006, 65)
God and Violence
Towards what kind of god are those people turning who are hunting the hunters
of scapegoats? Neither the father of Jesus who makes his sun rise on the evil and
on the good, nor the all-compassionate God of the Quran justify these lamenting
persecutors who with their puritanical moralism endanger global coexistence.
According to Girard, “the gradual transformation of the sacred into the holy” leads
to the discovery of a nonviolent God: “The God of the Bible is at first the God of
the sacred, and then more and more the God of the holy, foreign to all violence,
the God of the Gospels” (Girard, 2008, 218).
Questioning the relationship between violence and religion necessitates a reflec-
tion on the image of God because the lamenting persecutors who no longer trust
in acts of God by believing that their violence has divine legitimacy bear witness
to an image of God that stems from the archaic sacred and that is closely affiliated
with power and violence. But is the biblical God of victims really a god of power
and violent command?
In order to find an answer to this question it is helpful to turn to the work of the
French mystic and philosopher Simone Weil who significantly influenced Girard’s
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50 Wolfgang Palaver
mimetic theory (Girard, 2014; cf. Palaver, 2011). Weil used the term “gravity” for
both the impregnable force of the mob of the scapegoat mechanism and the archaic
image of God. According to Weil, among animals and human beings the weak are
often persecuted as scapegoats, a fact so widespread that she identified it with the
law of gravity: “Men have the same carnal nature as animals. If a hen is hurt, the
others rush upon it, attacking it with their beaks. This phenomenon is as automatic
as gravitation. Our senses attach all the scorn, all the revulsion, all the hatred that
our reason attaches to crime, to affliction” (Weil, 2001, 71; cf. Meaney, 2010, 576).
Weil found an especially striking example for her understanding of gravity in the
realm of human relations in Thucydides’ Melian dialogues in which the powerful
Athenians explain to the islanders of Melos that justice relies on a balance of power
and that in all other cases power always gets its will. In the eyes of the Athenians
this natural law dominates the human as well as the divine sphere: “In the case
of the gods we believe, and in the case of humankind it has always been obvious,
that as a necessity of nature wherever anyone has the upper hand they rule” (Thu-
cydides, 2013, 382).
But, as in the case of Girard, who recognizes in the biblical revelation a god
who does not stem from the foundational murder, Weil’s view of religion is also
not limited to the pseudo-religiosity of gravity. She recognizes grace as a radical
alternative. According to Weil, gravity and grace can be distinguished by the type of
religion on which they are based. In the realm of gravity, the type of religion, which
was mentioned by the Athenians in the Melian dialogues, dominates, and also sees
human beings as gods, always determined by power and violence. Grace, according
to Weil, has nothing in common with this pseudo-religiosity of power, but stems
instead from a god who differs radically from such human projections of power.
Grace refers back to the divine creator whose renunciation and self-limitation
created the world. Because god “emptied a part of his being from himself” he enabled
his creation to fill the emptied space (Weil, 2001, 89). In Christ we discover this type
of divinity exactly where he renounced it: “Though he was in the form of God, he
did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied him-
self, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness” (Philippians 2:6-7).
These considerations led Weil to a fundamental distinction between true religion
and false idolatry:
The religions which have a conception of this renunciation, this voluntary distance,
this voluntary effacement of God, his apparent absence and his secret presence here
below, these religions are true religion, the translation into different languages of the
great Revelation. The religions which represent divinity as commanding wherever
it has the power to do so seem false. Even though they are monotheistic they are
idolatrous.” (Weil, 2001, 89)
This distinction is closely linked to her reflections on “atheism as a purification”

and to Girard’s distinction between the sacred and the holy (Weil, 2002, 114-115).
We can find a kenotic understanding of God in Girard’s understanding of a
positive mimesis that overcomes the deadlock of those mimetic rivalries that lead
towards violence. According to Girard, we have to imitate Jesus in order to avoid the
temptations towards violence. By imitating Jesus who himself imitates his Father we
can escape the dangers that go along with mimetic desire. “Why does Jesus regard
the Father and himself as the best model for all humans? Because neither the Father
nor the Son desires greedily, egotistically. … If we imitate the detached generosity of
God, then the trap of mimetic rivalries will never close over us” (Girard, 2001, 14).
In Girard’s last book Battling to the End he underscores his advocacy with a kenotic
understanding of God in his reading of the late hymns on Christ by the German
poet Friedrich Hölderlin (Girard, 2010, 120-135; cf. Palaver, 2015). Girard opposes
the violent and immediate sacred of archaic myths to the holy as the imitation of
the kenotic Christ. The immediacy of mythic violence is opposed to the mediation
of the imitation of Christ, which is connected to the kenotic retreat of the Father:
To listen to the Father’s silence is to abandon oneself to his withdrawal, to conform

to it. Becoming a ‘son of God’ means imitating this withdrawal, experiencing it with
Christ. God is thus not immediately accessible, but through mediation: through
his Son and the story of Salvation, which as we have seen takes on the paradoxical
appearance of an escalation to extremes.” (Girard, 2010, 123)
Close to Girard, Simone Weil also identified immediacy with the idols of the
collective and distinguished it from mediation: “There cannot be any contact as
from one person to another between man and God except through the person of
the Mediator. Apart from him, the only way in which God can be present to man
is in a collective, a national way” (Weil, 1956, 581). She illustrated this thesis in her
critique of Judaism and Islam:
Israel, at the same time, and at one stroke, chose the national God and rejected the
Mediator. It is possible that Israel may from time to time have sought after a genuine
monotheism. But it always fell back upon, and could not do otherwise than fall back
upon, the tribal God. Islam is an illustration of the same law. Allah, in the Koran, is
also the God of the armed Bedouins. (Weil, 1956, 581)
This critique was surely excessive because neither religion can be reduced to a sa-
cred exaltation of the violent collective. This temptation is not typically Jewish or
Islamic, but is instead a temptation that can be found in all cultures and religions.
It is also the pseudo-religious temptation that is typical of nationalistic or military
uprisings as we can find them from the beginning of modernity onwards. Much
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52 Wolfgang Palaver
more important is the fact that Weil discovers a mysticism in Islam that clearly
breaks with the pseudo-religious exaltation of the collective and emphasizes the
importance of mediation: “The Beloved worshipped by the mystics of the tenth
century is not this Allah at all: he is the Mediator” (Weil, 1956, 581-582). It is espe-
cially in the mystical traditions of all the great world religions that we can discover
the nonviolent holy that no longer relies on the violence of the archaic sacred. The
holy helps to overcome the deep-rooted egoism that quickly and easily results in
violence (Armstrong, 2014, 362).
The distinction between two radically different types of religion that we can find
in the works of Weil and Girard is decisive for discussing the relationship between
violence and religion. We discover in the history of Christianity—especially in
the Crusades and religious wars typical of Christendom—a type of religion that
turns out to be mostly a human projection of violence that has nothing to do with
the nonviolent god of the Bible. With the Gregorian Reform, violence became a
legitimate means for the enhancement of the church’s worldly power leading to
the Crusades in which killed fighters were now seen as martyrs (Berman, 1999,.
103-106; cf. Althoff, 2013; Armstrong, 2014). In his book The King’s Two Bodies,
the medievalist Ernst Kantorowicz justly remarks that “in the thirteenth century
the crown of martyrdom began to descend on the war victims of the secular state”
(Kantorowicz, 1997, 244). Exactly such distortions of the biblical legacy led to
modern forms of nationalistic violence.
Simone Weil’s emphasis on God’s renunciation, on kenosis, remains important
for our current debate about religion. Karen Armstrong, an English writer on
religious studies, reflected in recent years on both modern fundamentalism and
current atheism, observing how strongly these two groups mirror each other. Both
can be characterized by a “strident certainty” that is, however, incompatible with the
much needed mutual respect for differences and the ability to engage in dialogue
(Armstrong, 2010b, 10; cf. Armstrong, 2010a).
Like Weil, Armstrong recommends a kenotic attitude: “True dialogue demand-
ed kenosis (‘self-emptying’) and the ability to ‘feel with’ the other” (Armstrong,
2010b, 16; cf. Armstrong, 2010a, 309-310). Whenever we insist on truth in order
to win over our adversaries, we awaken a spirit of violence that endangers our
coexistence in the world. Only with a kenotic attitude—regardless of whether we
are agnostics, skeptic atheists, or believers—can we approach the relationship of
violence and religion in a way that recognizes our own responsibility and helps us
to find sustainable ways to overcome human violence.
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Serres, M. (2009). Receiving René Girard into the Académie Française. In S. Goodhart, J.
Jørgensen, T. Ryba, & J. G. Williams (Eds.), For René Girard: Essays in friendship and in
truth (1-17). East Lansing MI: Michigan State University Press.
Thucydides. (2013). The war of the Peloponnesians and the Athenians (J. Mynott, Trans.).
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Vattimo, G., & Girard, R. (2010). Christianity, truth, and weakening faith: A dialogue (W.
McCuaig, Trans.). New York: Columbia University Press.
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The Integration of Muslims and the Charlie
Hebdo Attacks
Cleavages and Convergences between Religious
Denominations in France
Claude Dargent
On January 7, 2015, two heavily armed men, Chérif and Saïd Kouachi, invaded the
offices of the Charlie Hebdo satirical magazine in Paris . They killed twelve people
and wounded eleven others . Some very famous cartoonists such as Cabu, Charb,
and Wolinski were murdered . The day after the first attack, an accomplice of the
brothers Kouachi, Amedy Coulibaly, murdered Clarissa Jean-Philippe, a munic-
ipal policewoman in Montrouge . The following day he killed four Jews during a
hostage-taking incident in a kosher minimarket in eastern Paris .
On January 9, Al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula claimed responsibility for the
attack against Charlie Hebdo, stating that the actions of the brothers Kouachi were
planned a long time in advance in connection with this organization . Coulibaly
declared in a video to have acted on behalf of the Islamic State, but the organization
itself has not claimed responsibility for his act . Only his bonds of friendship with
the Kouachi brothers suggest that the two actions might have been coordinated .
The tragic loss of life is obviously a dramatic result, but not the only consequence
of these despicable actions . Indeed, Charlie Hebdo is a sort of symbol of the French
critical mind and of freedom of thought in France . Moreover, the country of the
1789 Revolution holds a special place in the sphere of freedom around the world .
Consequently, the emotional reaction was very strong not only in France, but in
the whole world as well . This was evident in the demonstrations that occurred a
few days after the tragedy that featured the heads of state or government of some
of the world’s biggest countries .
Why was Charlie Hebdo the object of this attack? The magazine, in fact, had
been in the crosshairs of the Islamists for several years . Its editorial line is indeed
openly atheistic and anticlerical: criticism of religion, particularly of religious
fundamentalists, is one of its trademarks . This has resulted in numerous lawsuits
initiated by Catholic or Muslim associations .
55
56 Claude Dargent
In 2006, the weekly created a controversy by publishing the twelve Muhammad

cartoons previously published in the Danish newspaper Jyllands-Posten. It was taken
to court by the Union of the Islamic Organizations of France and by the World
Islamic League, but the trial resulted in the court siding with Charlie Hebdo. In
2011, after the publication of a special issue criticizing the victory of the Islamic
party Ennahdha in Tunisia, threats against the satirical newspaper intensified
and its premises were targeted by a Molotov cocktail attack. In 2013, Al-Qaeda
in the Arabian Peninsula (AQAP) published in the on-line magazine Inspire a list
indicating eleven Western personalities “wanted dead or alive for crimes against
Islam”. Cartoonist Charb appeared on that list.
The failure of the complaints launched through the court system for insulting
religion is often misunderstood abroad. Their origin is understandable in the light
of the history of the relations between the Roman Catholic Church and the French
Republic. Since 1905, the Church and the State have been separate in France.
The State cannot subsidize any cult: religion belongs only to the private sphere.
Consequently, unlike in some other countries, the offence of blasphemy does not
exist. This is the reason why Charlie Hebdo was never sentenced for its antireligious
articles or drawings.
Some religious denominations have difficulties in agreeing with that. But to use
the reason of this French specificity to justify mass slaughter is obviously inexcusable,
and the fact that the murderers refer to Islam can put the integration of Muslims
into French society into jeopardy. This fear was further increased with the attacks
on the Bataclan and Parisian bars in November of the same year.
In this chapter I would like to study the situation of Muslims in French society
after this first attack. What effect has this use of violence had on their integration
into French society? This is relevant to the theme of religion and violence because
these acts were explicitly committed by Muslim extremists in the name of their
religion, and because France is a country where, despite recent developments, Islam
remains a minority faith in a country dominated by the Catholic tradition. As Mo-
dood (2013) shows, since the 9/11 attacks in the United States were conducted in the
name of Islam, some parts of the political spectrum in certain Western countries
have promoted Islamophobia and exclusivist Christian views. In fact, they were
only picking up on the themes behind the stigmatization of Muslim culture and
religion that were already circulating in the 1980s and 90s.
Was January 2015 a turning point? Has the integration of Muslims into French
society been questioned by this attack against Charlie Hebdo? I propose a negative
answer to this question in part one of my analysis of poll results. Moreover, the
reason for this answer is that Muslims share a number of values and behaviors
The Integration of Muslims and the Charlie Hebdo Attacks 57
with other French citizens, whether Catholic or not, as I will consider in part two
of the analysis of survey results .
Part One: The integration of Muslims into French society

seems not to have been called into question by the attack
against Charlie Hebdo
My conclusion, based on analyzing polling results, is that a sense of national unity

has been maintained with the exception of supporters of the National Front .
As pointed out by Roland Cayrol (2000), France as a nation is closely associated
with the process of polling: this method of assessing public opinion is used more
frequently here than in many other countries . Not surprisingly, several polls were
undertaken in the days that followed this attack .
On January 12th and 13th, a Harris poll for the LCP TV channel asked about
the nation’s reaction to the attacks . With two possible answers to choose from,
the question was:
Fig. 1 Would you say that the terrorist attacks which occurred in France last week
mainly aroused in you a sense of: anger, consternation, fear, indifference,
incomprehension, or sadness? (in %)
0 10 20 30 40 50 60
anger 51
consternation 48
saddens 40
incomprehension 17
fear 14
indifference 1
(Harris for LCP, January 12th-13th, 2015)
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58 Claude Dargent
The importance of the trauma undergone by the French population can be seen in
the scarcity of indifference: 1 %. Anger is the most frequent answer—which can be
worrisome in terms of national unity. It should be noted that, if the average of the
answers is 51 %, the rate rises to 64 % for the supporters of the right party, UMP,
and 62 % for those of the far right party, the National Front. Consternation is more
frequent at the center of the political spectrum. The rate for sadness rises to 48% for
the supporters of a left wing party and fear to 28% for those of the National Front.
If the other answers provided are less alarming for the future of civil harmony,
the frequency of the feeling of anger leads us to ask the question: Against whom
will this anger be directed? Of course, we may fear that the Muslims of France will
be the primary victims of this resentment.
To answer this question, we can use another poll that asked French people to
choose between two opinions:
“Islam itself is a threat”, or “We must not confuse Muslims who live peacefully
in France with radical Islamists”.
Only 29 % chose the first answer, and two thirds chose the second one. Obviously,
the French people surveyed do not implicate Muslims as a whole in these attacks.
We can also observe social differences in this poll: the middle and upper classes
with their high level of education are more often against the conflation between
Islam and terrorism than are laborers.
Tab. 1 Views on Islam in France According to Professional Position (in %)

We must not confuse Muslims who Islam itself Dk
live peacefully in France with radical is a threat:
Islamists who represent a threat:
Artisans, Shopkeepers 54 40 6
Professionals 78 20 2
Intermediate Professions 75 23 2
Non-Manual Workers 61 31 8
Manual Workers 60 34 6
Inactive Population 66 29 5
Total 66 29 5
(Ifop for Atlantico, January 8th-9th, 2015)
But the most important cleavage is across political attitudes—between left-wing and
the far right . While the ratio between manual workers and professionals is 1 to 1 .3,
the ratio between French people associated with the National Front and those
associated with a left-wing party is 1 to 2 .6 .
Tab. 2
We must not confuse Muslims who Islam itself Dk
live peacefully in France with radical represents a
Islamists who represent a threat: threat:
A Left-Wing Party 84 15 1
A Right-Wing Party 63 36 1
A Far-Right Party 32 66 2
Total 66 29 5
After the protest marches, which were very successful, the Harris poll asked if French
people approved of the statement: These protest marches allowed expression of the
rejection of associating Muslims with Islamist terrorists. 34% of the interviewees
“strongly agreed” with this opinion, 40% “somewhat agreed”, 18% “somewhat
disagreed”, 7% “strongly disagreed”, and 1% did not know . We see that there is a
clear rejection of identifying French Muslims with Islamist terrorists .
Fig. 2 These protest marches allowed expression of the rejection of associating

Muslims with Islamist terrorists (in %)
45
40
35
30
25
20
15
10
5
0
strongly agree somewhat agree somewhat strongly disagree dk
disagree
(Harris for LCP, January 12th-13th, 2015)
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60 Claude Dargent
But long-term effects sometimes differ from those observed in the moment. Six
months later, in July 2015, Ifop measured French public opinion about the Muslim
population through two questions, as it had for several years.
Tab. 3 The Muslim population is … (in %)

Dec 2010 Oct 2012 Jan 2015 July 2015
A threat to the identity of our country: 42 43 40 44
A factor of cultural enrichment for our 22 17 25 19
country:
Neither one nor the other: 36 40 35 37
Total 100 100 100 100
(Ifop for Atlantico, July 2015)
We notice first that nearly one out of two French citizens (44 %) thinks that the
presence of a Muslim community is a threat for the identity of the country, which
is a high level. We notice here a mistrust shared by a considerable percentage of the
French population—even if this “Muslim problem” was created by an influential
part of the French elite (Hajjat and Mohamed, 2013).
But this level is approximately the same as the one we have observed since 2010.
The number of French people who consider the presence of the Muslims is a factor
of cultural enrichment declined to 19 %. However, it is still not very far from the
pre-attack levels. We see an increase in this idea in the sequence following the attack,
a sequence marked by a moment of national unity. Six months later, we returned to
the status quo ante: the perception of a threat to identity did not strongly increase.
The distribution of these opinions is, however, widely associated with a person’s
political orientation: if Islam is seen as a threat to the identity of the country by only
23% of the supporters of the Socialist Party, it is 90% in the case of those favoring
the National Front. We find again the strong specificity of the far right party.
In the last poll: What do French people think about the link between religious
affiliation and citizenship? a large majority of the representative sample (79%)
thinks that French Muslims are French people like others, even if this opinion is
more frequently held the case of other religions. This opinion is, however, held by
a minority among the supporters of the National Front (46%).
Tab. 4 Are French Muslims like others? Answer “yes” according to political
identification (in %)
French people of this Whole PS UMP FN
denomination are French (Socialist (Right-Wing (National
people like others: Party) Party) Front)
Catholic 97 99 97 96
Protestant 95 97 98 86
Evangelical 93 95 91 83
Jewish 92 95 92 74
Muslim 79 88 73 46
(CSA for Atlantico, January 2015)
The Issue of Muslim Participation in the January

Demonstrations
Even if the participants in the protest marches of January 11th were very diverse,
it was often said that the mobilization “for Charlie” had not attracted the Muslim
population. Some observers saw in this reluctance a form of implicit support by
Muslims of the attacks of January, 2015.
For example, the number of demonstrators was relatively low in Marseille: 115,000
between Saturday and Sunday for a population of 850,000 people. It is a 14 % ratio,
which was much lower than the national average. Yet the immigrant population,
often coming from the Maghreb and thus partly Muslim, is important in this city.
The Ifop polling organization was interested in this question of Muslim partic-
ipation. This publication gathered demonstrators’ figures from 130 municipalities
in France. It established that on average the rate of mobilization was 28 %. More
than one inhabitant in four participated in the protest marches, a rate which is very
high and had not been seen since the end of the Second World War. This study
crossed the ratio of mobilization with the percentage of immigrants in the local
population to obtain the following results:
61
62 Claude Dargent
Fig. 3 The ratio of demonstrators / number of inhabitants according to the proportion

of immigrants in 130 municipalities:
35
28 29
30 27
25 23
20
15
10
Less than 5% 5-10% 10-15% more than 15%
We see that there is no strong link between the proportion of immigrants and the
rate of participation in demonstrations . We can observe that only in the cities where
the proportion of immigrants is highest that, in fact, the proportion of demonstra-
tors’ in those cases was also a little lower than elsewhere .
The conclusion of the poll’s author is therefore very ambiguous: “Regarding these
data, the hypothesis of a massive boycott of demonstrations by the Muslims is thus
invalidated”—but the author noted a likely trend that Muslims demonstrated less
than their fellow citizens (Fourquet, 2015) .
This reasoning does not seem convincing, firstly because the immigrant popu-
lation averages about 9% of the population in these cities . This is not a high enough
percentage to clearly influence the demonstrators’ total ratio . On the other hand,
the Muslim population does not always correspond directly to the immigrant
population . Numerous immigrants are not Muslim and conversely a part of the
Muslim population (the second and the third generation) is not immigrant . Even
leaving aside converts, many Muslims were born French . Moreover, what is true for
the immigrant community is even truer for Muslims: the proportion of Muslims
in the population of France, maybe 7%, (Dargent, 2010a) is not high enough to
influence the rate of mobilization, even locally .
Sociology and political science have established that demonstrations, quite par-
ticularly as reflections of public liberties, initially mobilize the upper and middle
classes . All of the literature about the cultural context of demonstrations shows
that participating in these events is often associated with a high-level diploma .
Inglehart’s (1977) discussion of post-modernist issues in France further reflects
this. We also know that the Muslims of France are generally lower class (Dargent,
2010a). Thus, their possible sub-representation in the demonstrations might not be
a consequence of their religion, but rather of their social location.
In a recent bestseller, Emmanuel Todd (2015) goes much further, arguing that
these demonstrations were not a moment of national unity, but rather the Islam-
ophobic expression of lapsed Catholics. For this demographer, Catholics that no
longer attend church were overrepresented in the marches, and Muslims under-
represented. However, he relied heavily on overly territorialized data, which are
often a trap for sociological analysis.
Fortunately, a sample survey ordered by the National Consultative Committee
of Human Rights gives us socio-individual data. Analyzed by Nonna Mayer and
Vincent Tiberj (2016), they show the error of Emmanuel Todd’s analyses and the
limits of the thesis of the low participation of Muslims. In fact, non-practicing
Catholics were underrepresented in the marches. The most active participants in
the demonstrations were people with no religious affiliation and the occasional
churchgoers were often Catholics. Muslim participation was close to the average.
Nevertheless, if those who attend mosques participated less, like regularly practicing
Catholics, those who do not go to the weekly collective prayer were on the other
hand overrepresented in the marches. Very religious people, whether Catholics
or Muslims, participated less in the demonstrations because of the criticisms of
Charlie Hebdo against religion; on the other hand people who were slightly religious
wanted to show their solidarity in condemning this slaughter.
The underrepresentation of Muslims in the protest marches is not due to support
for, or a leniency towards, such attacks, but instead to the difficulty of demonstrating
in support of a newspaper that regularly commits blasphemy, according to their
point of view. The same is apparent for Catholics. We can therefore conclude that
these attacks did not create a rift in French society.
These short-term reasons are vital to understanding the impact of the Charlie
Hebdo attacks on the relationships between Muslims and the rest of French society.
Nevertheless, they must be considered in addition to other long-term factors that
we will now take into account.
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64 Claude Dargent
Part Two: Muslims share a number of values and

behaviors
with other French people
The question of the degree of integration of a group with religious foundations

must obviously deal with the behavior of extremists associated with it. Neverthe-
less, assessing this involves a deeper review of data illuminating the social bonds
which may either connect this group or distance it from other groups making up
the society. The analysis of the data shows that Muslims have a lot in common with
various parts of French society.
Values: Muslim show Great Proximity with Catholics on Issues

of Sexuality and Family
Values occupy a central position in the establishment of social linkages. Moreover,

religious membership contributes to the configuration of cultural universes (Bre-
chon, 2002), especially in the field of domestic and sexual values (Dargent, Duriez
and Liogier, 2009; Michelat and Dargent, 2015). In this field, Muslims are close
to French Catholics. However, Muslims are even more rigorously opposed than
Catholics to homosexuality, abortion, and divorce:
Tab. 5 Sexual and Family Morality in France by Religion (in %)

Justification of:
Homosexuality Abortion Divorce
Catholic 36 40 50
Muslim 24 19 36
Other 33 34 44
No religion 52 55 63
Whole 43 46 56
(European Values Survey 2008)
We find the same kind of result in the field of education. We know from the earliest
works in the field that opinions on education are important for characterizing a
symbolic universe (Adorno et al., 1950). Later studies in France have confirmed this
importance through the exploration of cultural liberalism (Grunberg and Schweis-
guth, 1990) and ethno-authoritarianism (Mayer, 1990; Grunberg and Schweisguth,
1997; Tiberj, 2012; Michelat and Dargent, 2015). It is therefore important to note
that Muslims and Catholics are more in favor of obedience than people without
religious affiliation, who prefer independence and imagination.
Tab. 6 The Qualities that French Parents Encourage in their Children (in %)
Independence Imagination Obedience
Catholic 21 11 34
Muslim 15 5 42
Other 27 10 27
No religion 33 19 31
Whole 27 15 32
Compared with other categories, these two religions are also the highest in terms of
advocating love and respect for the family on the one hand, and valuing authority
in society on the other.
Tab. 7 “We have to Love and Respect our Parents” (France) (in %)
Always It Depends
Catholic 81 19 (1259)
Muslim 99 1 (138)
Other 79 21 (112)
No religion 71 29 (1505)
Whole 77 23 (3014)
Tab. 8 “Greater Respect for Authority Would be a _________” (France) (in %)

Good thing Bad thing Neutral
Catholic 86 3 12 (1266)
Muslim 84 6 9 (140)
Other 78 9 13 (112)
No religion 73 6 20 (1518)
Whole 79 5 16 (3036)
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66 Claude Dargent
We can see here a common and traditional vision of family and society. Even if
immigrant Muslims come from quite different societies, they share with Catholics
a patriarchal vision of family and social relations.
In terms of social policy, we again find this common vision regarding the chang-
ing configuration of the family. An important debate during the last presidential
campaign was about marriage and adoption rights for gay couples. On these issues
Muslims are once again on the side of Catholics, lining up somewhere between
regular and irregular churchgoers.
Tab. 9 Marriage and Adoption for Gay Couples – A Desire for Realism and its
Achievement (in %)
Desireable and Desireable but Not Desireable
Realistic Not Realistic
Regul churchg Cath 15 9 75 (186)
Irregul churchg Cath 30 17 53 (559)
Non churchg Cath 39 15 45 (1697)
Muslim 25 20 55 (60)
Other religion 42 15 43 (166)
No religion 56 14 30 (1685)
Total 43 15 42 (4353)
(Présidoscope cevipof 2012)
It is the same in the case of euthanasia: Muslims and Catholics both approve of
medical support to prolong life and in a number of limited cases they would justify
removing such support.
Tab. 10 Using Medical Support for Prolonging the Life of Adults in the Advanced or
Terminal Phase of an Incurable Disease who Request it (in %)
Desireable and Desireable but Not Desireable
Realistic Not Realistic
Regul. Churchg. Cath. 58 16 25 (186)
Irregul. churchg. Cath. 74 21 5 (559)
Non churchg. Cath. 79 17 4 (1697)
Muslim 69 10 21 (60)
Other Religion 72 19 10 (166)
No Religion 84 13 3 (1685)
Whole 79 16 5 (4353)
(Présidoscope cevipof 2012)
As we see, Muslims and Catholics share common views about sexuality and fam-
ily and are cautious about social and legal changes in these areas. This common
vision between Islam and the denomination that was once the state religion can
be seen as a point of intersection in society; however, this conclusion can also be
discussed: Catholics are today becoming a smaller and smaller minority in France
(Michelat et al., 1991; Hervieu-Léger, 2003), at least according to the usual modes
of measure (Dargent, 2010b).
This demographic change was clearly visible in the opposition of a part of this
denomination to same-sex marriage, a battle that they lost. Nevertheless, the risk
of a similar marginalization of Muslims goes away when we notice that in politics,
they maintain alliances with the other component of French society: people without
religious affiliation.
Assessment of Political Attitudes
In France, from a political point of view, Muslims are far removed from Catholics
and closer to people without religious affiliation (Dargent, 2003; Dargent, 2010;
Brouard and Tiberj, 2011). Furthermore, Muslims are the most left-leaning religious
group: 95% chose the leftist candidate in 2007.
Tab. 11 Religious Affiliation, Church Attendance and Voting in France (the Second
Round of the Presidential Elections)
Royal Sarkozy
Regular churchgoer Cath. 23 77 (279)
Irregular churchgoer Cath. 31 69 (721)
Non churchgoer Cath. 42 58 (1223)
Muslim 95 5 (96)
Other religion 47 53 (110)
No religion 66 34 (998)
All 47 53 (3427)
(cevipof survey 2007)
On the other hand, Catholics very often lean to the right—the more they attend
church the higher the likelihood of this leaning. In this field, Muslims are closer
to people without religious affiliation, who were the most leftist religious group
until Muslims appeared in French political society. These political behaviors are
67
68 Claude Dargent
the consequences of the political attitudes of the different religious groups as we

can see in this table founded on EVS data using the left-right scale.
Tab. 12 Position on the Left-Right Scale and Religious Affiliation in France (in %)
Left:1 to 4 Centre: 5-6 Right: 7 to 10 Dk
Catholic 25 37 30 8 (1277)
Protestant 33 24 22 22 (55)
Muslim 47 31 5 17 (139)
Other 29 41 10 20 (59)
No religion 38 38 14 10 (1526)
Total 33 37 20 10 (3056)
(EVS 2008)
There are not always elections during the year of the EVS, but the intended vote in
this case shows the same hierarchy between Muslims, people without a religion,
and Catholics.
Tab. 13 Intended Voting and the Religious Affiliation in France (in %)

Left wing Centre Right Wing Far Right
Catholic 40 13 44 4 (922)
Muslim 90 4 6 0 (69)
Other 47 18 29 7 (69)
No religion 57 16 23 4 (1055)
All 50 14 32 4 (2115)
(EVS 2008)
The last 2012 presidential election shows the same tendency. Even if the limited
size of the sample implies a small number of Muslims, almost all of them voted
for the leftist candidate François Hollande—just like non-religious people. On the
other hand, a majority of Catholics voted for the right-wing candidate, Nicolas
Sarkozy—especially those who often attend church.
Tab. 14 The Vote in 2012 (2nd round) by Religious Affiliation and Church Attendance
(in %)
F.Hollande N.Sarkozy
Regular churchgoers cath 24 76 (123)
Irregular churchgoers cath 34 66 (393)
Non churchgoers cath 45 55 (1174)
Muslims 92 8 (39)
Other religion 52 48 (106)
Secular 67 33 (1094)
Total 52 48 (2929)
(Présidoscope Cevipof/Ipsos)
The Ifop polling institute came to the same conclusion, based on a combination of
surveys. Measuring voting intentions, this study also identifies a massive majority of
the Muslim votes going to Hollande: 86% against only 14% for Sarkozy (Fourquet,
2012). However, one could argue that this is not matter of religion, but instead social
class. It was said that Muslims are often labourers—whether manual or not. Is their
left wing leaning the consequence of their religious affiliation or their social status?
To answer this question, we need to use a logistic regression.
In summary, even after controlling for age, degree, and social position, Muslims
are the most left-wing religious group: they voted almost four times as much for
Hollande as non-religious people, and 20 times more than Catholic churchgoers.
Exp(B)
Gender
Male 0.90
Female 1
Age
18-24 1.25
25-34 1.23
35-49 1.12
50-64 1.83***
65 and over 1
Diploma
Without CEP 1
BEPC. CAP. BEP 1.37
Highschool 1.65
Two Year College 1.57
Higher Education Dip 2.34**
*** p<0.001, ** p<0.005, *p<0.01.
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70 Claude Dargent
The French population clearly distinguishes between jihadist terrorists and Muslims.
Moreover, we observe solidarities between Muslims and the rest of French society:
Muslims are closer to Catholics in term of family and sexuality values, but closer to
people without religious affiliation in terms of political attitudes and voting patterns.
These linkages show that Muslims are not currently isolated from French soci-
ety. They have their own distinctiveness, of course, but they can establish a range
of alliances on various issues. For example, a few months ago there was a strong
debate in France around the legalization of gay marriage. On this subject, we find
Muslims joining Catholics in being against legalization. On the other hand, in
elections Muslims often side with left-wing candidates, they are against the far
right of course, but they are also against right-wing candidates more generally.
Of course, these data about values and political behaviors were collected before
the January attack against Charlie Hebdo. However, there is no reason for them
to change: values about family and sexuality, political attitudes, and the vote are
always very stable. Future surveys will confirm or invalidate this hypothesis. But
if it is true, it can be considered a form of democratic victory over the violence that
we experienced in January 2015—and subsequently.
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71
Eastern Orthodox Perspectives on Violence
Emil Bjørn Hilton Saggau
Introduction
In the post-communist era from 1989 onwards, Eastern Europe has seen a number
of conflicts between various national, political, and, to a large extent, religious
groups . A common theme throughout all of these conflicts has been the crucial
role that religion—often Eastern Orthodox Christianity—and nationalism have
played (see Merdjanova, 2000; Payne, 2007) . Eastern Orthodox Christianity, which
will henceforth be referred to as Orthodoxy, has been portrayed as the backdrop of
emerging national movements, such as in Serbia (Vukomanovic, 2008), Moldova
(Zabarah, 2011), Macedonia (Risteski, 2009), etc ., because, as Dareg A . Zabarah
put it, the “Orthodox Church quickly fi lled the ideological gap left by the collapse
of communist ideology” (2011, 227) . The fusion between Orthodoxy and national-
ism entailing the subsequent violence that chauvinistic nationalistic groups have
inflicted throughout Eastern Europe is not necessarily a causal sequence of events
from religion to violence . In this article, I will therefore try to characterize how
the broader and contemporary Orthodox theological corpus reflects on violence
and war . The article will be structured in three sections beginning with a short
background on violence and wars involving the Orthodox churches in Eastern
Europe in order to set the scene . The second and third parts will first and foremost
focus on the church’s historical theological reflections on violence and secondly
on the contemporary church’s and theologians’ responses in the face of violence .
73
74 Emil Bjørn Hilton Saggau
Background: Conflicts and Wars in the Orthodox

Commonwealth
In the post-communist era, three major conflicts have broken out in areas with a
majority or large minority of Orthodox populations. The three zones of conflict
developed in the former Yugoslav republics of Croatia and Bosnia-Herzegovina
in the early nineties, as well as in Georgia in 2006 and in Ukraine since 2014. The
conflicts of the post-Yugoslav republics have often been characterized as both ethnic
and religious conflicts among Catholic Croats, Muslim Bosnians, and Orthodox
Serbs (Lampe, 2000). In contrast, the Ukrainian and Georgian conflicts are among
various ethnicities or regional identities, each with its own Orthodox churches.
Besides these major zones of conflict, other wars or civil wars have been fought
between ethnic groups—often with their own church or religion—such as the war
in Kosovo from 1996 to 1999, the related civil war in Macedonia in 2001 and the
Transnistrian war in Moldova from 1990 to 1992.
Since 1989 the Orthodox commonwealth has also been plagued by a series
of minor violent incidents or church-related conflicts, in addirtoon to the wars
mentioned above involving various Orthodox churches. The southern region of
former Yugoslavia has, in particular, seen a number of violent incidents involving
the Serbian Orthodox Church and the non-recognized Orthodox churches of
Montenegro and Macedonia (Šistek, 2010).
Below are the conflicts listed chronologically in two categories:
Wars and major conflicts:

• The Transnistrian war (1990-92)
• The post-Yugoslav wars (1991-95)
• The Kosovo war (1996-99)
• The civil war in Macedonia (2001)
• The war in Georgia—South Ossetia (2008)
• The war in Ukraine (2014-?)
Major church-related conflicts:

• Bessarabian Church conflict in Moldova (1991-2002?)
• The Estonian Church division (1993-?)
• The conflict of the Montenegrin “Orthodox” Church (1993-?)
• The Serbian Orthodox Church´s internal and state related conflicts (1996-?)
• The conflict of the Alternative Bulgarian Synod (1996-?)
• The conflict after the failed Nis agreement between the Serbian and Macedonian
Orthodox Church in Macedonia (2003-?)
Eastern Orthodox Perspectives on Violence 75
A common denominator in these conflicts is that they all took place in areas belong-
ing geographically to the contested fringe or border regions of the former Russian
and Ottoman empires. These conflicts are therefore often based on a struggle for
religious authority over a given physical space or region. Thus, it seems apparent
that they all to a certain degree involve various religious communities, especially
the nationalized Orthodox churches (Marsh, 2007). This is, of course, not the same
as saying that they all emerge from within the various religious communities, as
several analyses claim (e.g. Anzulovic, 1999), but rather that all of the conflicts have
evolved in that given space and cultural sphere. This has meant that the contempo-
rary church organizations have had to react to and reflect on violence, war, and the
conflicts at hand and to some degree also participate in the conflict as clergy at the
front supervising funerals, etc., which of course enmeshed the various organiza-
tions in the conflicts. Emmanuel Clapsis, an Orthodox theologian, thus rightfully
points out that contemporary Orthodox theology has often been misused in order
to justify violence, which is “mostly done through the selective reading and use of
the Church’s Tradition and faith” (2000, 219). Each of the national churches has
been forced to reformulate a stance on violence and each of the above-mentioned
cases often provides more than one unique Orthodox response to the issue at hand.
In the following analytic sections, I will assess the common tradition from which
all of these churches have drawn in their hours of need.
Orthodox Positions on Violence
It is not easy to isolate one traditional position of Eastern Orthodox Christianity

because Orthodoxy is a decentralized form of Christianity without a single center
and authority. This form of Christianity exists in the form of many churches with
their own leaders (patriarchs and synods) that have been nationalized. All of these
churches do, however, bear a distinct Byzantine Christian heritage and are to some
degree—at least spiritually—connected to the Ecumenical Patriarch in Constan-
tinople (Istanbul) or one of the influential Orthodoxy members of the Pentarchy,
which are the five original patriarchs (excluding Rome), according to canon law,
or the Russian Patriarchate in Moscow (see Casiday, 2012). These decentralized
organizations therefore pose a challenge when it comes to answering the broad
question of what the Orthodox position on violence is. I will thus, instead of
pretending that there is only one position, try to draw up several interrelated and
overlapping positions in order to shed some light on the subject. These positions will
75
be presented in historical order highlighting the transformations, interrelations,

and dilemmas with which they deal.
The most recognizably Christian authority and positions on violence are found
within the ancient texts regarded as the Holy Scripture (The Bible). Most contem-
porary Christian churches and movements accept this base as something they have
in common and it is therefore not a specific trait characteristic of Orthodoxy. The
multifaceted, biblically inspired Christian stance on violence is portrayed well
in Lloyd Steffens’ encyclopedic article (2013), where he concluded that the early
Christian tradition was centered on a pacifist Christ-centered teaching.
From this historical core, a characteristic and distinct historical Orthodox position
emerged. This position is based on two traditions that constituted the Orthodox
theology of the Byzantine realm because, roughly from the fourth century onwards,
Byzantium quickly became the center for what was becoming a specific branch of
Christianity, known as Orthodoxy. This was distinct from the Western branch,
known later as the Roman Catholic Church. The two central Byzantine traditions
were that of the Church Fathers (the patristic tradition) and the law of the Church
(called the canonical scriptures). From ca.100 CE until 600 the patristic tradition
was formed from the early writings of the first leading theologians of the Chris-
tian communities. These writings became guidelines and norms for the Orthodox
churches. Within these writings a legal tradition was formulated, which was later
incorporated into the corpus that became the ecclesial laws of the Church. From
325 CE to 787, the main bulk of the legal authorial laws were formed through the
seven great Ecumenical Councils under the patronage of the Roman Emperor. These
legal texts and the later commentaries on them became the legislative backbone of
the canonical scriptures in Orthodoxy (Meyendorff, 1974).
In the following section I will briefly present these two traditions as well as
their main concerns and attitudes towards violence. The presentation will be done
according to the interpretation and stance of the Orthodox neo-Patristic school
in regards to these theological, historical, and contemporary issues. This is done
for two reasons: first and foremost the neo-patristic viewpoint is today one of the
most widespread ones within Orthodoxy and, secondly, because this school in itself
provides an interesting point of departure into contemporary Orthodox thinking.
Such a representation of Orthodoxy will unfortunately not, however, reveal all the
positions in contemporary Orthodoxy.
An Orthodox Canonical and Theological Position
The canon law of the Orthodox Church is not a well harmonized and standardized
canon and it is therefore not easy to formulate or synthesize a precise position from
the vast sea of various collections of the laws. Many of the laws were made to ad-
dress the very concrete lived experiences of the clergy and the communities inside
the Roman and later Byzantine empires and are therefore not completely or easily
transferable to the present, which lacks the Roman imperial system.
The most well-known and used version of these laws is called Nomocanon after
the first collection of ecclesial laws made in 557 CE. This collection contains laws
from 314 to 880 CE derived from the apostolic tradition, the first seven Ecumenical
Councils, and several minor Church councils. The collection also contains the
Byzantine emperors’ ecclesial laws, such as Emperor Justinian’s (527-65 CE) Codex
and Novella, as well as other material that has been given authoritative status, such
as sayings, epistles, and ecclesial laws from the Church fathers. The Nomocanon
contains both the patristic and legal traditions on which the modern day versions
of the law are based (Wagschal, 2012, 387-388).
This tradition of canon law cannot be decontextualized or interpreted inde-
pendently, according to the influential Orthodox theologian Georges Florovsky
(1893-1979). Florovsky argues that any interpretation of these laws must be
a synthesis, a creative reassessment of those insights which were granted to Holy Men
of old. It must be Patristic, faithful to the spirit and vision of the Fathers, ad mentem
Patrum. Yet it must also be Neo-Patristic, since it is to be addressed to the new age,
with its own problems and queries. (Quoted in Ware, 2012)
The process of fully understanding canon law is therefore necessarily based on a

Neo-Patristic synthesis that underscores the importance of the spiritual and char-
ismatic powers of the tradition in contrast to simple quotation. This is especially
important concerning canon law, which Florovsky himself describes as arising
from imperial church-meetings that only formalized the organizational and lived
experience of the Orthodox Church. These meetings only received their validity by
being charismatic events guided by the Holy Spirit, which means that the formality,
juridical principles, and imperial power behind the meetings are not the source of
their theological authority, according to Florovsky (1987).
77
A Canonical Stance
In the following paragraph I will look closely at the actual laws of the Nomocanon
regarding violence with Florovsky’s points in mind. It is quite clear and perhaps not
very surprising that the early canons and patristic writings assume a very pacifist
and anti-militant stance in line with biblical scripture and other early Christian
sources (Stoyanov, 2014, 165).
In the early canonical tradition, both the clergy and the laypersons are forbidden
to engage in violence and they will be deposed or excommunicated if they violate
this rule. This stance is highlighted in Canon VI, LXVI, LXXXI and LXXXIII in
The 85 Canons of the Holy and Altogether August Apostles. The canons also forbid
any participation in Roman secular offices, such as the military (Bos et al. 2004).
This pacifist attitude is also voiced in the early Christian writings from the first
four centuries CE of the most influential theologians, such as Tertullian, Origen,
Basil the Great, Gregory of Nyssa, and John Chrysostom, according to Marian
Simion (2008).
This very strict attitude towards violence and military service is toned down after
the Church formally becomes a part of Roman society under Emperor Constantine
in the fourth century (Stoyanov, 2014, 166). In the Laws of the First Ecumenical
Council of 325 CE, convened by Constantine, it becomes permissible to forgive
military service. Canon XII explicitly says that military men returning to service
“like dogs, to their own vomit” are, after repentance, allowed into the church and
later the community (Bos et al., 2004). Later, in the Fourth Ecumenical council
in Chalcedon in 451 CE, it is made explicitly clear that this rule only applies to
the clergy. The early canonical traditions in 451 CE thereby draw a very strict
line between the secular world and the clergy, but at the same time they thereby
implicitly acknowledge the secular business of violence and war. However, this
acknowledgement of war and violence came reluctantly. The Church Father St. Basil
(329–379) expressed this change in his First Canonical Epistle of our Holy Father
(378), which is part of the canonical complex. He writes in Canon XIII that “Our
fathers did not think that killing in war was murder; yet I think it advisable for
such as have been guilty of it to forbear communion three years.” (Bos et al., 2004)
Basil thereby draws a line between voluntary murder and war, just as he draws
a line between voluntary and involuntary murder. Voluntary murder is seen as
evil and is still punished harshly, but war and involuntary murder are regarded as
something different. War is described as a natural and often unhappy part of life.
Basil emphasizes that humanity still lives in the “old” physical world, which is why
violence and war must be accepted as part of this life. Basil does, however, at the
same time underscore that violence is still regrettable and he therefore advises that
anyone guilty of involuntary murder or killing in war is excluded from commun-

ion for three years. This ecclesial attitude towards the secular business of war as a
different sort of circumstance than murder is also expressed by the Church Father
St. Athanasius (298–373) in his epistle from 373 CE where he writes:
For in other matters also which go to make up life, we shall find differences accord-
ing to circumstances. For example, it is not right to kill, yet in war it is lawful and
praiseworthy to destroy the enemy; accordingly not only are they who have distin-
guished themselves in the field held worthy of great honors, but monuments are put
up proclaiming their achievements. So that the same act is at one time and under
some circumstances unlawful, while under others, and at the right time, it is lawful
and permissible. (Bos et al., 2004)
The canon law and patristic traditions do therefore testify to a slow, but nonetheless
definitive, transformation of the Eastern Church’s attitude towards violence. In the
early laws and scripture a very pacifist and harsh attitude toward violent perpetra-
tors is voiced, but that slowly evolves into a reluctant acceptance of violence in the
context of war. The change in attitude follows the historical transformation of the
Christian communities from social outsiders to becoming completely integrated
into Roman society.
Neo-Patristic Stance
Florovsky and several other Orthodox theologians of the twentieth century were
aware of this transformation in early Christian thought and they sought to preserve
the Orthodox Church and prevent it from assuming powers which lay beyond a
patristic and biblically defined frame. Florovsky argues that the Orthodox tradition
should be understood as one where there: “were different orders or ‘powers’, clearly
distinguished but closely correlated,—‘spiritual’ and ‘temporal’, ‘ecclesiastical’ and
‘political’.” (1974a, 75)
This differentiation is based on a legal text from Emperor Justinian I (482
CE–565) that clearly states the:
basic principle of the Byzantine political system in the preface to his Sixth Novel,
dated March 16, 535: “There are two major gifts which God has given unto men of
His supernal clemency, the priesthood and the imperial authority—hierosyne and
basileia; sacerdotium and imperium.” (1974a, 77)
79
Therefore, Florovsky argues that:
It was commonly conceded that the Emperor’s duty was “to defend” the Faith and
the Church by all available means at his disposal including even “the sword,” but
probably first of all by appropriate legislation. (1974a, 80)
Florovsky consequently upholds St. Basil’s view on the separation of the two
spheres, the ecclesial (the priesthood) and the secular (imperial) with his reference
to Justinian. He thereby underscores that it is the secular powers’ purpose to secure
peace, even through violent means. Florovsky thus argues that war as such on a
practical level can be justified when it is done to secure peace. Violence (the sword)
is a necessary tool that can be used to defend the church.
At the same time, he draws a strict line between the ecclesial world and the
secular world, similar to the one drawn by Justinian, in which he seems to argue
that Christianity at a theological level can never allow the blessing and acceptance
of war and violence. According to Florovsky the charismatic power of Christianity
bestowed on the communities through the Holy Spirit is only preserved when
the communities are excluded from the secular or political realm. This is in stark
contrast and in opposition to the fusion of Orthodoxy and war that emerged in
the late Byzantine Empire (Stoyanov, 2014, 167-69). This is exemplified in Emperor
Leo VI’s (895–908 CE) Taktika in which Orthodox rites, Christian liturgy, and the
practice of war are combined. Florovsky perceives such a combination as untrue
Orthodoxy, because he simply contrasts the imperial and secular world with that
of the hermit in the desert. The Church is as an eremite only peregrinating through
the world and needs to exclude itself from the political realm, which means that
power and wars are temporal phenomena that the church and community need to
separate themselves from (1974, 68). Florovsky points out that:
The seat of evil is not in nature, but in man’s heart, or the world of the evil spirit. The
Christian fight is not against flesh and blood, but “against spiritual wickedness in
high places” (Ephesians 6:12). (1974b, 125)
Florovsky’s stance on violence is much more than an elaboration of St. Basil’s and
St. Athansius’ views. He describes explicitly two levels from which war and violence
can be approached and understood from within the context of Orthodox theology.
Looking at it from the first and highest ecclesial and spiritual level, he argues that
war and violence are always a transgression of God’s commands. The Church and
clergy need to place themselves on this spiritual level and separate themselves from
the “old” physical world, in the desert, so to speak, outside of the secular “imperial”
realm. On a lower level, war and violence are part of the temporal world and an
integrated part of political life. In this temporal world, the secular power of the
emperor (the supreme) needs to defend the order and the Church. The secular
power can therefore be forgiven for its transgressions, which are needed in order
to secure the Church. The Church must, however, never let itself become a part of
the temporal world and partake in worldly affairs.
Florovsky’s two levels work in two different ways: the temporal level is horizontal
and spatial whereas the spiritual is vertical and ahistorical. This means that the
secular power works within a given time and space and reacts to horizontal relations
with other groups, individuals, etc. The spiritual level is neither caught in space
nor time, but relates to a higher sphere at all times throughout Christian history
and eternity; and what is most crucial is that it directly relates only to the Divine.
The Church should only relate itself upwards to God, but it is at the same caught
in the space and time through which it is peregrinating . This view of Christianity
allows Florovsky—and St. Basil and St. Athansasius—to distinguish between a the-
ological approach and a practical approach towards war and violence. The Church
is therefore never allowed to accept violence theologically, but at a practical level
it can at least forgive the perpetrators when violent behavior is engaged in for the
common good or involuntarily. The Church can act in one way vertically, but in
another way horizontally. This view has biblical roots because even St. Paul in the
Epistle to the Romans 13 accepts the secular “power of the sword” (Steffen, 2013).
This differentiation between the levels makes it possible for them to coexist which
creates as a consequence what Florovsky calls the “imperial problem”.
Florovsky’s “imperial problem” is best described in the works of his theological
successor and student John Meyendorff. The problem is defined in his writings as
what happens when the holy community of the church—that is non-violent and
pacifist—is included in broader society. The spiritual church in this case meets with
the realistic and political realm whereby the two levels described by Florovsky clash
with each other. The two levels coexist, but also contradict each other because the
church does not meet a Christian world outside itself in which humankind acts
in accordance with the scriptures. The world is rather far from the spiritual state.
Meyendorff therefore states that
The great dream of the Byzantine civilization was a universal Christian society ad-
ministered by the emperor and spiritually guided by the Church. This idea obviously
combined Roman and Christian Universalism in one single social-political program.
…There lies the tragedy of the Byzantine system: it assumed that the state as such
could become intrinsically Christian. (1974, 213)
In Meyendorff’s words the problem exists when the world is not “intrinsically Chris-
tian” and is not governed beneath one supreme political power. A limited political
81
power does therefore have to at some point and under some circumstances act
“non-Christian” (violently) in order to protect Christianity. This creates the essence
of the problem. The Church views violence as a non-Christian act, but at the same
time this act could be necessary in order to protect the Church and its community.
This problem is solved in the Western Christian tradition through the theory of “just
war” developed by St. Augustine and later Hugo Grotius in his treatise De iure belli
ac pacis (On the Law of War and Peace, 1625). The just war theory, in short, describes
a series of events or acts that constitute the basis for a just war. These events provide
a just reason for engaging in warfare, a so-called casus belli (reason for war) or jus
ad bellum (justification of war) (see Stoyanov, 2014, 168-71, 195). Unlike Western
Christianity, the Eastern Orthodox tradition has never developed such a theory,
according to Marian Simion (2011). The Orthodox tradition, according to Stanley
Harakas, is rather based on an understanding of Christ “in the context and struggle
of evil and good” which “is confrontational and, and one could even say, violent”
(2004, 103-104). In this approach Christ teaches non-violence, but “The New Testa-
ment itself recognizes the need and necessity of the use of force to maintain order”
(2004, 105). In Harakas’ opinion, the true Orthodox tradition is therefore neither a
pure pacifist one or one with a just-war theory. He argues that:
Neither of these positions reflects the authentic Orthodox tradition regarding war.
I have characterized the Orthodox position as elevating peace to a superior virtue,
and the waging of some wars at best as a “necessary evil” (2004, 107)
This position does not solve the imperial problem which “makes some conflicts
morally unavoidable [where…] the mind struggles to hold these things together”
(2004, 107).
Contemporary Perspectives
In the following and last part of this article, I will focus on two contemporary
Orthodox positions on violence and war in order to show how they relate to the
above-described traditions and factors. The two positions are extremes within the
spectrum of Orthodox positions on violence and will therefore serve to highlight
various contemporary approaches to the theme. The first position is that of the
contemporary Ecumenical Patriarchate, which is furthest away from violence and
any secular political power. The Patriarchate is more or less isolated as an ecclesial
institution without any political influence in a particular state. The second position
is the unofficial position of the Serbian Orthodox Church which has lived with and
experienced conflict and violence first hand. I will try to assess how they use and
apply the Orthodox tradition in their concrete circumstances.
Jus ad Bellum: The Ecumenical Patriarchate’s Position
As noted above, the ecclesial position of the early Orthodox writings does not hold
a very positive view of violence and has therefore not created a framework for a
theory of just war—jus ad bellum (Simion, 2011). This attitude towards war is very
visible within the contemporary Ecumenical Patriarchate’s position on violence
that, as with the tradition, lacks a coherent and theoretical formulation regarding
war (Stoyanov, 2014, 171). The Patriarchate’s contemporary position was defined
in 1989 in a statement called Orthodox Perspectives on Justice and Peace, where the
leading theologians stated that:
“The Orthodox Church unreservedly condemns war as evil. Yet it also recognizes
that in defense of the innocent and the protection of one’s people … it is sometimes
necessary, with reluctance, to resort to arms. In every case, such a decision must
be taken with full consciousness of its tragic dimensions. Consequently, the Greek
fathers [patristic] of the Church have never developed a ‘just war theory’, preferring
rather to speak of the blessings of and preference for peace.” (Stoyanov, 2014, 218)
An example of the concrete application of this position is seen in the post-Yugoslav

wars (1992-95) where the entanglement of the Serbian Orthodox Church in the
conflict had to be addressed at some point and at some level. This was done very
early on in the conflict in what is known as The Berne Declaration on November
26, 1992. In this declaration, a high-ranking member from each of the Bosniak
Muslim, the Croat Catholic, and the Serbian Orthodox communities, together
addressed the conflict. They stated, “Crime in the name of religion is the greatest
crime against religion.” (1992). This statement illustrates the Orthodox effort to
underscore that the modern position of the Ecumenical Patriarchate is based on
pacifism and an anti-militant attitude. The statement from the Berne Declaration
was quoted or referred to several times in the nineties, such as on February 9, 1994,
in a statement called the Bosphorus Declaration, arising from a peace conference
sponsored by the Ecumenical Patriarchate, stating that:
We reiterate that the war in former Yugoslavia is not a religious war and that appeals
and exploitations of religious symbols to further the cause of aggressive nationalism
are a betrayal of the universality of religious faith. (1994)
83
In the statement from 1994, the Patriarch refers to two central themes within the
Patriarchate’s position. The first argument is based on the canonical and Patristic
sources, which Florovsky identified as the spiritual level. In this line of argument,
violence and war separate humanity from God because every person is an image
of God and a God-created being. If this image of God is destroyed by another
person, he or she transgresses God’s command. This strict pacifist attitude is also
voiced in other statements from the Patriarchate, such as in the statement from an
Inter-Orthodox Consultation from March 2011. The Inter-Orthodox panel writes:
Since all forms of injustice and discrimination, and all violence and war, go against
this God-given gift of unity, the Church is constantly called upon to struggle against
every form of injustice and oppression, mistrust and conflict created by human
beings. (2011,10, section 39)
The panel argues that the main theological justification for an opposition to war
is based on the unity between all of humanity and the Christian message. The
universality of the Christian message is interpreted as a bulwark against violence.
This argument draws on an inherently paradoxical position, as Meyendorff notes.
The theological basis of this paradox is that the argument to some extent assumes
that the world can become, in Meyendorff’s words, “intrinsically Christian” (1974,
213). This assumption is built into the argument and therefore undermines its
peaceful intention.
The other line of argument from the Patriarchate focuses on the claimed
dis-connection between Orthodoxy and chauvinistic and violent nationalism.
The Patriarchate claims that the Eastern Orthodox churches have always warned
against the danger of nationalism and have always disconnected Orthodoxy from it
because it disrupts the unity of humanity (FitzGerald, 2004; Tsetsis, 2004; Clapsis,
2004). This argument is based on the Patriarchate’s historical denunciation in 1872
of what is called (ethno-)phyletism. The heresy of phyletism, or “ecclesial racism”,
as it is sometimes called, is claimed to be the concrete ideological connection be-
tween nationalism and Orthodoxy that emerged in the nineteenth century. In the
Patriarchate’s view, this was what the Council of Constantinople in 1872 took a
stand against. The concrete historical circumstances in 1872 were, however, not as
simple as that. The council’s denunciation of phyletism was directed towards the
emerging Bulgarian Exarchate that had been established as an independent church
organization outside of the Patriarch’s control, in cooperation with the Ottoman
Sultan and the newly resurfaced Bulgarian Orthodox priesthood. The Bulgarians
saw the Exarchate as the first step towards national independence and as a means to
disassociate themselves from the crumbling power of the Greek Phanars who had
controlled the Ecumenical Patriarchate for centuries under Ottoman vassalage. The
1872 denunciation of phyletism was therefore instead a part of an ecclesial struggle

between the Bulgarians and the Greek-dominated Patriarchate (Riis, 1999, 231-36).
This historical background is often disregarded nowadays and the Ecumenical
Patriarchate uses the 1872 statements as proof of the Patriarchate’s resistance to
nationalism and the division of the church. This may be seen, for example, in their
paper on The Phenomenon of Ethnophyletism in Recent Years (2001).
The two lines of argumentation outlined above characterize the scope of the Pa-
triarchate’s position on violence, war, and peace. The position on violence is, perhaps
not so surprisingly, very similar to the spiritual level that Florovsky described. The
Patriarchate argues that violence is always a transgression of God’s command and
that it is a betrayal of the God-given unity of humanity and the universality of the
church. This ecclesial viewpoint situates the Church and clergy within the spiritual
level, in the metaphorical desert outside of the secular “imperial” realm. They sim-
ply reject the notion that any war or form of violence is theologically acceptable.
Jus in Bello: A Lived Experience of War
A position that reflects the lived experience of war and conflicts can be found within
the Serbian Orthodox Church (SOC), in contrast to the position of the Ecumenical
Patriarchate which remains far from any concrete experience with war and violence.
The SOC has been accused by many external analysts (Aleksov, 2010) of directly
taking part in the post-Yugoslav conflicts of the nineties and even of inciting the
Serbs to ethnic and religious violence (Anzulovic, 1999). These claims are debatable
and it would take more than a short paragraph to either verify or deny them, and
that is not the purpose of this investigation. I will instead try to focus exclusively
on the SOC’s own lived experience with the war and the subsequent theological
reflections and eventual justification that the SOC made after its encounter with
the war. Such an investigation mostly overlooks the concrete discussion of the
war(s) and the SOC’s role.
The SOC’s unofficial position concerning the war in Bosnia-Herzegovina and
Croatia is perhaps most evident in the publication God’s Lamb and the Beast from
the Abyss (Serb: Jagnje Božije i Zvijer iz bezdana, 1996). This book contains several
political-theological reflections on the war written by high-ranking members of
the Serbian clergy and Serbian leaders, officers and intellectuals. The three most
prominent contributors were Radovan Karadzić, the leader of the Bosnian-Serbs,
and two Serbian Orthodox metropolitans. The two contributing metropolitans
of the Serbian Orthodox Church are identified by the Serbian journalist Tomanić
Milorad (2001) as part of the trio that was the leading theological and political
85
center in the SOC in the nineties. The book presents a well-developed theological
reflection on war and violence, especially in the contribution by the Metropolitan
of Montenegro and the Littoral, Amfilohije Radović. In his text St. Petar of Cetinje
and War (1996), Radović tries to reflect on the relations between the holy and war.
The life of the Montenegrin Prince-Bishop St. Petar Petrović-Njegoš (1774-1830) is
used as a narrative that exemplifies Radović’s reflections on the theme. The text is
structured around three “wars” that the Prince-Bishop had to fight: 1) an internal
spiritual one, 2) an internal societal one, and finally 3) an external one against the
Turks and the Napoleonic Empire. Radović describes the prospect of each of these
wars as “his own [St. Petar’s] crucifixion …the tragic crucifixion of his small nation”
(1996, my translation). These crucifixions are, according to Radović, said to have
been a necessary symbolic and physical sacrifice by St. Petar and his nation. This
necessity of war and violence is due to the fact that
there is constant warfare through the entire history of humanity … it is something

that belongs to the history of mankind at all times and it is something that belongs
more or less to all men. How do we explain this historical fact? It is not easy to an-
swer. However, one thing is clear, there’s something imperfect in the human nature
… this imperfection is present in mankind’s historical reality …there are always
signs of a struggle between light and darkness, between God and Satan, between
God and Evil. (1996)
This struggle between good and evil is a testament to human imperfection which
is grounded in the fact
that the true sense of Christianity is not yet realized in mankind’s history; which
means that the New Testament is something which is only visible on the horizon;
and which one might be able to attain as an individual by becoming the full image
of Christ and his crucifixion … St. Petar’s history, and through him Montenegro and
the Serbian people’s history as a whole all the way to today, is more or less a return
to the Old Testament. (1996)
And at the end of the text he concludes that:
St. Petar accepted the war as a necessity, as unavoidable. At the same, I need to stress
this again; he did not need to wage war for his own sake, out of selfish love, but for
those who were ready to sacrifice themselves for their loved ones, for their sake, for
the defense of that which is most sacred for any man. (1996)
There are several thematic clusters of argumentation within Radović’s text. At

perhaps the most basic level, he argues for a justification of violence and war based
on the principle of self-protection or defense. This line of argument does not claim
violence as just, but simply emphasizes that humanity can be forced to use violence
in order to protect itself from harm. This self-defense argument, as a sort of jus in
bello (justice in war) argument, is excluded from Radović’s text, because he does
not speak of personal self-defense, but rather of defense of others—their loved ones.
At a second level, he argues that humanity is “imperfect” and that is why we see
a struggle between good and evil that manifests itself in violence. This imperfec-
tion is a historical fact and will therefore constantly lead to violence that needs a
protective response. This historical fact, argues Radović, is a “return” or constant
revival of the Old Testament narrative —a return that provides a biblical scene
or context for violence. In the Old Testament the holy people are forced to use
violence in order to protect and keep their homeland—and violence also appears
within this people because they are imperfect and therefore sinful. This narrative
keeps repeating itself in history.
The New Testament and especially the evangelical kerygma of Christ is, however,
the light on the horizon that breaks this violent spiral. Christ is born into this world
of imperfection as a perfect being. He is met with rejection and eventually a brutal
end. It is only through him and his acceptance of humanity’s imperfection that
mankind can transcend this historical and Old Testament world in order to reach
a world of peace and perfection. Radović therefore speaks of St. Petar’s sacrifice
and crucifixion, because it is through them that St. Petar reaches beyond violence
and deifies himself—which means that he becomes one with Christ’s mystical
body, the Church. This emphasizes a very central point which is that violence, in
the eyes of metropolitan Radović, as self-sacrifice for others, leads one into the
world of the New Testament. Violence therefore only becomes justified if it is in
the defense of others, if it is a sacrifice where the strong protect the weak. Radović
thereby uses the structure and language of the Gospel in order to understand the
relationship between the holy and violence. Just as Christ in the Gospel is subjected
to humanity’s imperfection and subsequent violence, so is St. Petar. It is within
Christ’s bloody sacrifice that he transcends humanity’s imperfection and it is this
exact same process that St. Petar relives. A vital point in this argumentation is
that—just like Christ—St. Petar is a victim of an external violent threat. Radović
thus indirectly hints that it is the same in the case of the Serbs that are involved in
the conflict in Northern Yugoslavia. They were the victims of external violence and
therefore their violent responses were a necessity and even justified because they
were done for the protection of their loved ones. In fact, Radović, in a sophisticated
and implicit manner, even argues that self-protection is a holy and Christian task
when facing an external threat.
Several other contributors to God’s Lamb and the Beast from the Abyss likewise
dwell on the concrete justification of war, but they do not completely follow or argue
87
along the same lines as Metropolitan Radović. The Metropolitan of Zahumsko-Her-

zegovina, Dr. Athanasius, in his contribution titled The Worst of All Possible Wars
(1996), and Matej Arsenijević in his article titled Orthodoxy and War (1996), both
speak in a more dualistic fashion. Athanasius writes that:
St. Gregory the Theologian said, referring directly to the spiritual war in defense of
faith, that we should not wage war against weapons but rather war against heresy
which destroys human salvation, because they go to the devil and not to Christ,
when speaking about the war of darkness against the light, of evil against good, of
lies against the truth, that such a war is better than a false peace: “Better war than
peace that separates us from God”. (1996, my translation)
In this quote, Athanasius stresses that violence and war are necessary in the face
of heresy and evil. War and violence seem unavoidable. He directly quotes St.
Gregory arguing that war is better than a peace that separates us from God. It
should, however, be noted that St. Gregory speaks of a spiritual war against vices
and theological heresies. Athanasius’ text does not seem to contain the same
direct separation of the secular and spiritual spheres as one can find within St.
Gregory’s text and that Florovsky argues for. The worldview that emerges within
Athanasius’ text seems rather to operate with a direct and concrete manifestation
of evil and good in the physical being of humanity. The enemies of the Serbs are,
in Athanasius’ text, much more than an external threat of which Radović speaks.
The enemies here become the physical embodiment of the devil which threatens
the salvation of humanity. Noticeably, there emerges in the nineties a divergence
within the SOC when it comes to violence.
Even the SOC’s Patriarch Pavle took part in this discussion, not least because he
had signed the aforementioned Berne Declaration in 1992. Pavle’s position, voiced
in the Berne Declaration, was close to the attitude of the Ecumenical Patriarch.
But meanwhile he also issued a statement on behalf of the SOC in 1991 which
claimed that “victims of genocide cannot live together with their past and perhaps
future executioners” (Aleksov, 2010, 181). This statement was interpreted as a direct
justification of the Serbian armed uprising in Bosnia and Croatia (Aleksov, 2010).
Pavle hence explicitly claimed peace as a virtue in the Berne Declaration, but at
the same time he practically incited his fellow Serbs to take up arms in a statement
from the previous year. Radović’s and Athanasius’s arguments follow the same
lines, where Athanasius seems to more directly argue for the need for violence in
order to protect the holy and humanity’s salvation. Radović’s position becomes the
middle ground with a more nuanced statement where he limits himself to speak-
ing of the justification of violence only when confronted by an external (vaguely
defined) violent threat.
The statements, reflections, and discussions of the SOC in the nineties provide
concrete examples of the ethical conflict that the imperial problem imposes on the
Orthodox churches. At one point, the SOC tries to commit itself to the virtue of
peace, but at the same time they face, in their opinion, an external threat which
forces them to argue for war as a “necessary evil”. The leading theologians of the
SOC end up with a complex and nuanced position on what constitutes the right
thing to do within the context of a war (a jus in bello argument).
Concluding Remarks
In this chapter I have tried to show not only the multitude of conflicts that have
involved the Orthodox churches, but also how this form of Christianity views vio-
lence and draws on its tradition when it reacts to those conflicts. I would therefore
conclude that it seems that there are two central levels or poles within Eastern
Orthodox Christianity when it comes to violence. The first one is the spiritual or
ecclesial level—which is seen in the canonical writings as well as the statements of
the Ecumenical Patriarchate. This level provides the possibility for an ideal position,
which only exists when the church as an organization in this world is not faced
with violence firsthand. In this position, there is no just violence or war. The focus
here is on the “deification” of humankind—human beings becoming perfect in
this world and in the church.
On the second level, which becomes the tradition that is drawn upon in hours of
need, war and violence are accepted as they are in the canonical writings and in the
Serbian Orthodox Church. This is a position fashioned through the encounter with
violence, where the church has been forced to accept the lived reality and therefore
tries to deal with it—as does Metropolitan Radović. In this position, violence and
war can be justified or even forgiven. Here, the focus is on the “imperfection” of
humankind—the “fallen” nature of human beings. The church is hence also seen
as a community of sinners that need salvation, which is given to them through
the church.
Stanley Harakas’ (2004) characterization of Orthodoxy as a tradition in which
peace is a virtue and violence becomes a necessary reality under external threats
seems to be the correct illustration of Orthodoxy’s position on violence. The moral
dilemma posed by this position is not solved by a simple theory, as in Western
just-war theories, but rather calls for continual reflection on the concrete and
lived experience of the Orthodox communities peregrinating through this world.
89
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91
Embracing the Other: Lessons from History
and Contemporary Christian Thought
Kostake Milkov
Embracing the Other
Religion seems to be the usual suspect in contemporary times as the source of vi-
olence on both individual and corporate levels . Much has been said in response to
this assumption, both by those who agree and disagree with it, and it is not within
the scope of this essay to address this particular claim . The essay will rather look at
the basic ideas of a sixth-century Church Father, Maximus the Confessor, together
with some other early and contemporary Christian writers, in order to display the
best practices that Christian thought can offer to counter violence and offer a path
of thinking about the role of religion, more precisely Christianity, in encouraging
the flourishing of societies in an increasingly conflict-ridden world .
Maximus on Self-Emptying (Kenosis) as the Central Principle

of the Christian Faith
Maximus’ commentary on the Lord’s Prayer (Expositio orationis dominicae) is

his most succinct spiritual exegesis of Scripture . It yields seven revelations or
mysteries about the salvation of humanity: “theology, adoption in grace, equality
of honour with the angels, participation in eternal life, the restoration of nature
to itself . . . the abolition of the law of sin, and the overthrowing of the tyranny of
evil .”1 Maximus speaks briefly about each of these at the beginning of the Expositio
orationis dominicae, linking every one of them with a specific petition in the Lord’s
Prayer . The thread that goes through all these mysteries is the believer’s imitation
of Christ’s kenosis or renunciation of his own will, demonstrating how this trans-
1 Maximus the Confessor, Expositio orationis dominicae, 102-103 .

93
94 Kostake Milkov
lates into the believer’s encounter with the affairs of the world. Maximus insists
that by this, Christ reaffirms God’s assessment of the created order as being good
and confirms his plan for a final transformation and unification.2 In the relatively
short text, one can see the linear development of Maximus’ ascetic thinking which
shows the gist of his view of renunciation dispersed throughout his corpus of works.
Second, Maximus’ connection of the mysteries—which present the highlights of his
ascetic ideal—supports the argument of this research, namely, that each mystery is
discovered through the believer’s commitment to carry out the spiritual plan that
proceeds from praying the Lord’s Prayer. God carries this plan out through Christ,
and subsequently through the believers who participate in and imitate him. It is
through this mutual kenotic movement that the believer “by the humbling of the
passions … takes on divinity in the same measure that the Word of God [became]
genuinely man.”3 The corresponding response of the Christian to the kenosis of
Christ for the sake of the world is the believer’s personal kenosis, also for the sake
of the world. In an analysis of the following Maxian statement, Alan Cooper finds
an indication that human suffering can be redemptive:
In and through his particular sufferings, all human suffering—an ontological and
theological more than psychological reality—is given potentially redemptive signif-
icance, in such a way that “our salvation resides in the death of the only-begotten
Son of God”. 4
Maximus makes this clear at the very onset of his exposition of the Lord’s Prayer:
“For the words of the prayer make request for whatever the Word of God Himself
wrought through the flesh in His self-abasement.”5 In other words, anyone who
repeats the words of Christ in the prayer is also asking to participate in Christ’s
kenotic self-abnegation.
In the first part of Expositio orationis dominicae, Maximus writes prologue-like
comments on each of the mysteries which are subsequently discussed with the in-
vocation along with each of the petitions of the prayer. The invocation “Our Father
who art in heaven,” and the first and the second petitions, “Hallowed be thy Name,”
and “Thy kingdom come” yield, under Maximus’ interpretation, the doctrine of the
Trinity. Maximus reminds the readers that it is Christ the incarnated Λόγος (Logos)
2 Ibid., 30.41-44; 102.

3 Ibid., 32.101-33.105; 103.
4 A. G Cooper, The Body in St. Maximus the Confessor: Holy Flesh, Wholly Deified, Oxford
Early Christian Studies (Oxford: Oxford University Press 1982), 91.
5 Maximus the Confessor, Expositio orationis dominicae, 102.
Embracing the Other 95
who teaches the words of the prayer. He is the one who reveals the mysteries, and
more importantly, he reveals the Father and the Holy Spirit.6
Theology is then about the knowledge of the Triune God who in the Logos takes
human nature upon himself to make that knowledge available to men. He is the
author (aftourgos/αὐτουργός) and the mediator (mesitis/μεσίτης) of the “goods”
that the Father, in the Spirit, bestows on men. In his monograph Le Christ et la
Trinite Selon Maximie le Confesseur Pierre Pirret interprets the kenotic passage in
the following way:
The Lord Jesus Christ, by his own flesh, ‘manifests’ to men the Father whom they do
not know. The unique, self-identical Lord Jesus ‘leads’ to the Father, by the Spirit, the
men he has ‘reconciled’ to himself. In his affirmation of the mediator between the
Father and human beings, Maximus indicates the relation between the Incarnation
and the paschal mystery.7
Maximus says that the Logos did this when he “… willed to empty himself in the
incarnation.”8 By this self-emptying act he inaugurated the second mystery revealed
in the prayer, that of the adoption of the believers as children of God. In a short,
yet dense text, Maximus shows that kenosis is the principal link between God and
humanity. God empties Himself in the incarnation of the Logos—in order to truly
participate in human nature—so that man can truly participate in divine nature,
but man has to reciprocate with his own kenosis. Initially this should start at the
level of the passions: “… by the humbling of the passions (ti kenosei ton pathon)
it [the human will] takes on divinity in the same measure that the Word of God
willed to empty Himself … of His own unmixed glory….”9
Further, in Expositio orationis dominicae, Maximus claims that the absence of the
male/female (thymos/epithymia) tension in the soul lets it become a virgin-mother
of Christ.10 When this passage is compared with Quaestiones ad Thalassium 40,
where Maximus also uses the image of mother of the Logos with the difference
that the mother there is faith, it will be seen that the purpose is not to supersede
moral philosophy, but rather to fully prepare humanity for it: “Having first created
the faith in us, the Logos then becomes the Son of our faith embodying Himself
6 Ibid., 31.87-89; 103.

7 P. Pirret, Le Christ et la Trinité: Selon Maxime le Confesseur (Paris: Beauchesne Éditeur,
1983), 60.
8 Maximus the Confessor, Expositio orationis dominicae, 105-106.
9 Ibid., 102-105; 103.
10 Maximus the Confessor, Expositio orationis dominicae, 109.
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96 Kostake Milkov
through it into virtues in accord with [spiritual] praxis.”11 It is an act according

to the Logos of human nature by which the deviant aspect of possibility (capacity
to suffer) is overcome. Commenting on the same passage of Expositio orationis
dominicae, Lars Thunberg writes:
Maximus points out that man now must re-orient the activity of his soul and turn
his whole desire towards God, so as to know only one pleasure (ἡδονή/hedone), the
pleasure which is contrary to that of the senses and consists entirely of the living
communion of the soul with the logos. 12
This is, according to Maximus, the main reason for asceticism; Maximus uses the
argument of natural asceticism in his dispute with Pyrrhus. Pyrrhus asks Maximus:
“If that which is natural to us does not appear through ascetic practices, but it is
inbuilt in us, and virtue is natural, how is it that we acquire virtues through toil and
ascetic practice?”13 Maximus’ answer furthers the view that for him asceticism is
a form of natural conduct that gets rid not of natural, but of unnatural, tendencies
in man: “The ascetic practices and the toils have been contrived by the virtuous so
that the deception of the senses will be separated from the soul to which they have
been attached, and not to introduce the virtues from outside.”14 This means that
the tension between the intelligible and the sensible does not have an ontological
bearing. The tension is there as a result of “malfunctioning” of intelligible and sen-
sible faculties. Blowers’ comment gives the gist of Maximus’ thinking on this topic:
The tension between the sensible and intelligible dimensions of creation is, in the
context of Maximus’ system, one of the “economically” based and intrinsic polarities
in the natural world that the human subject, qua microcosm, is summoned to mediate
in the vita practica and vita contemplativa.15
11 Maximus the Confessor, Quaestiones ad Thalassium, in Corpus Christianorum: Series

Graeca, vols. 7 and 22, ed. C. Laga and C. Steel, trans. P.M. Blowers and R.L. Wilken
(Turnhout-Leuven: Brepols Publishers, 1980), 125-128.
12 L. Thunberg, Microcosm and Mediator: The Theological Anthropology of Maximus the
Confessor (Chicago: Open Court Publishing Company, 1995), 171.
13 Maximus the Confessor, Disputatio cum Pyrrho, in Patrologiae cursus completus, Series
Graeca, vol. 91, ed. J.P Migne (Paris: Migne Imprimerie Catholique, 1866), 309B.
14 Ibid,, 309C.
15 P.M. Blowers, Exegesis and Spiritual Pedagogy in Maximus the Confessor. An Investiga-
tion of the Quaestiones ad Thalassium. Christianity and Judaism in Antiquity, 7. (South
Bend, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2005), 99.
For example, overcoming fleshly desires and material things is a basic requirement
for forgiveness. Of such a person Maximus writes: “In truth he forgives, in spiritual
detachment, those who sin against him because no one at all can lay his hand on the
good he zealously seeks with all his desire.”16 On the basis of the petition “Forgive
us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us,” Maximus derives
the idea that the one who forgives sets God as an example of virtue for himself.17
But this can be said only with the tantum-quantum principle in mind. As much as
man has become like God in forgiveness, he can ask that much forgiveness from
God. This again is determined by a person’s commitment to imitate Christ’s kenosis:
“For if he wishes that as he forgave the debts of those who have sinned against him,
he might also be forgiven by God.” 18
The centrality of renunciation for Maximus is demonstrated in his explanation in
Expositio orationis dominicae as to why God first demands reconciliation between
people. This demand is so that God can show “... that the disposition of those who
are forgiven accords with the state of grace.”19 Forgiving another’s offences brings
into perspective man’s role as a microcosm and a mediator. Only in the context of
God’s grace and guidance does renunciation find its place of preparation for a life
of imitation of God.20 In interpreting the Bible, Maximus never loses sight of the
biblical portrayal of the cosmic battle which has an impact on earthly affairs, nor
that the kingdom of God that Jesus inaugurated is in contrast to that of the earthly
governments (Matt. 20:28 and parallels). Christians should forgive all those who
have sinned against them and identify with all victims of power as Jesus himself
identified with humanity by taking on human flesh.
Maximus adds one more incentive to his plea against the hatred that causes
estrangement from those who have transgressed: in forgiving them one acknowl-
edges them as fellow human beings.21 Maximus’ anthropological egalitarianism
is based on the idea that all human beings in their basic natural state are of equal
status before God because they are created in his image. All human persons carry
the divine image in themselves, and should act towards each other as God in Christ
acts towards them by practicing forgiveness. In the Liber asceticus 8, the image of
God is the motif that enables and requires one to forgive:
16 Maximus the Confessor, Expositio orationis dominicae, 63.64.647;115.

17 Ibid., 64.647-651; 115.
18 Ibid., 64.656-65.664; 115.
19 Ibid., 65/673-674; 116.
20 Maximus the Confessor, Quaestiones ad Thalassium, 229.26-230.37.
21 Ibid., 69.747; 117.
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98 Kostake Milkov
For those that are created after the image of God and are motivated by reason, that
are thought worthy of knowledge of God and receive their law from Him, it is possible
not to repulse those that cause grief and to love those that hate them.... When the
Lord says: Love your enemies; do good to them that hate you, and what follows, He
does not command the impossible, but clearly what is possible.... The Lord Himself
... has shown it to us by His very works.22
The works of Christ in the Liber asceticus correspond to his self-emptying act in the
Expositio orationis dominicae. This means that human beings are ordered by God
to do what is clearly within the capacity of their nature when aided by divine grace.
The renouncing act of self-emptying forgiveness is in reality nothing exceptional,
which makes renunciation as such nothing exceptional either. On the contrary, as
an image of God, renunciation is expected from humanity by default. If he is to
be forgiven, man is to forgive: “Let us then love one another and be loved by God;
let us be patient with one another and He will be patient with our sins. Let us not
render evil for evil, and we shall not receive our due for our sins.”23 In the Expositio
orationis dominicae, Maximus claims that this is the only way that one can pray
for forgiveness of one’s own sins.24
Maximus reminds his readers that they are to conquer the world in the same
manner as Christ conquered it. The wording in the Liber asceticus 15 is a strong
confirmation of Maximus’ ideal of love as the renunciation of all satanic scheming
and reasoning. Victory is to be won through the love that constitutes “giving up.”
The focal point of the apostle’s ministry of reconciliation is that “… by giving way,
they conquered those who thought to conquer”.25
The example of the divine selflessness and love for Maximus is not just a figu-
rative way of speaking, and literary device to incite believers to better appreciation
of benevolence. The example is for Maximus quite literal. The exhortation in the
quotation above, “to be concerned for others more than for ourselves,” finds an
echo in Maximus’ Epistle 44. Maximus states that by the incarnation, God has
fulfilled the law of love that He has established. For Maximus this is a sign that the
unthinkable has happened. God, the absolute being, the self-sufficient Creator to
whom all creatures owe their existence, is willing to value humanity and through
it the whole world, as something worth sacrificing for. The believer’s love is proven
22 Maximus the Confessor, Liber asceticus. in Corpus Christianorum: Series Graeca, vol.
40, ed. P. Van Deun, trans. P. Sherwood (Turnhout-Leuven: Brepols Publishers, 2000),
19.142-21.151.
23 Ibid., 115.968-971.
24 Maximus the Confessor, Expositio orationis dominicae, 69.747-751.
25 Maximus the Confessor, Liber asceticus. 69, 747-751.
true only if it pierces through the boundaries of self-love, offering himself for the
sake of the other:
Indeed, if he [Christ] has deliberately delivered himself up to the passion and the death,
willing to take responsibility in our place, we should have suffered as responsible, it
is clear that he has loved us more than himself, we for whose sake he gave himself to
death, and—though the expression be bold—it is clear likewise that, as more than
good, he elected to suffer those outrages which were willed at that moment in the
Economy of our salvation, preferring them to his own natural glory. Going beyond
the dignity of God, and transcending the glory of God, he made of the return to him
of those who were removed far away a more insistent expression and manifestation
of his own glory.26
This Jesus is the Christ, the Logos and the second hypostasis of the Trinity. For
Juan-Miguel Garrigues, the hypostatic versus the individualistic concept of man
in Maximus is crucial for the actualization of love and forgiveness for others:
The hypostasis as life of charity, implies intimate communion with our co-natural
fellows, in the likeness of the consubstantiality of the Trinitarian Persons. Charity
thus ‘innovates’ our free will into that glorious freedom which can ‘enhypostatise’,
by intention, self-same human nature into personal communion, thus fulfilling, in
a way that is beyond itself, the aspiration of our nature which free will claimed to
satisfy in the absolutisation of its ‘I’.27
Ultimately the process of unifying all of creation through renunciation is present-

ed by Maximus with the fundamental biblical imagery of grace, forgiveness, and
reconciliation. In his interpretation of these biblical topics, a key role is played by
the free response of man to God’s grace and revelation. The free disposition of the
soul in synergy with God’s grace appropriates the reconciliation, or in Maximus’
words, the unification of the whole world with God. Renunciation means overcoming
divisions and achieving victory through surrender!
The only way the real value and dignity of anything can be appreciated is to
penetrate beneath the surface, to be able to recognize its inner coherence, beauty,
goodness, and truth. For Maximus, this is discovered in the transforming potential
of creation; not only its renewal, but its “resurrection” as well. The continuity of
the “old” is preserved, and yet by grace it is brought to a level that is utterly “new.”
This newness is God’s ultimate gift—a unity between the Creator and the created.
26 Maximus the Confessor, Epistolæ xlv, 91, 644AB.

27 J.M. Garrigues, Maxime le Confesseur: La Charité, Avenir Divin de L’homme. (Paris:
Beauchesne, 1976), 180-181.
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100 Kostake Milkov
Maximus in his theological and ascetic writings aims at nothing less than the
restoration of the entire cosmos—a restoration that can be realized only through
the patient realization of voluntary kenosis.
The Principle of Renunciation for Today?
After this outline of Maximus’ thought on renunciation one can ask the question
as to where this research could lead if it were taken beyond its immediate scope.
In the Ambiguum 7 he writes:
But nothing that comes into being is its own end, since it is not self-caused. … [God] is
that for the sake of which all things exist, ... [He], however, is for the sake of nothing. 28
In the context of the meaning of Maximus’ thought unpacked in this study, these
words insist that the whole universe, all its beings, both animate and inanimate,
have been brought into being and motion by and owe their existence to someone
else. Not a single grain of dust has man as its end. Humanity is rather surpassed
and to be considered as one of the beings that has an ultimate end outside itself.
On the contrary, man’s role is not meant to be an end, but rather a means through
which all beings reach their rightful end. Maximus’ teaching on renunciation can be
taken as a principle that breaks the cycle of consumerism, replacing it with giving.
Giving should not originate simply from what is clearly superfluous, but rather it
should be undertaken with the aim that others not be in dire need.
Maximus writes about people trapped in a selfish state of life:
They misuse God’s creatures for the service of the passions and do not contemplate
the reason of the wisdom which is manifest in all things to know and glorify God
from his works, as well as to perceive whence and what and why and where we are
going from the things which are seen.29
Maximus detects self-love (filauti/a) as the source of all other passions and sees in
self-love the reason for the disintegration of the unity of human nature. As a result
of self-love human life has become very mournful, since men “… have become
plunderers of each other, because of rivalry and out of self-love.”30 The figure of
28 Maximus the Confessor, Ambiguorum liber, 48.

29 Th. Oec 2.41(PG 90: 1144B; trans. Berthold 1985: 156).
30 Maximus the Confessor, Quaestiones ad Thalassium, 33.271-272.
Christ in Colossians 3:11 stands as the prime example of unity, one who is “all in
all.”31 Racial, ethnic, and social origins are irrelevant when humans realize that
that they are all united in Christ. Thus one cannot talk any more of the “value” of
a man deeming him less human (Scythian) or putting a price on him (slave). One
can only talk of human dignity, which is equal for all who are created in the image
of God. By accepting their neighbour as their equal, men acknowledge their com-
mon createdness, owing their existence to Christ who is “all in all.” Man therefore
cannot treat other creatures and their habitat as if they existed only to gratify his
desires. On the contrary man is created with the precise task of leading all other
beings to reach the fullness of their potential.
Accordingly, all Christians are called to an “ascetic” life broadly understood, insofar as
every believer must aspire, through disciplined practice and contemplation, exercising
every level of the life of the soul and the body, to participate in the transfiguration of
the cosmos–indeed, to be a miniature demonstration of its realization–and thereby
to share actively in Christ’s mediation of the new creation.32
The Challenge of the Other
A modern theologian who relates to Maximus’ vision for love and nonviolent con-
flict resolution is Miroslav Volf. In his book Exclusion and Embrace, by thinking
through the essence of otherness, Volf gives a plausible response to the paranoid
divisions of “us” and “them” present in the principle of exclusion. He defines this
principle as “barbarity within civilization, evil among the good, crime against the
other right within the walls of the self.”33
The beginning of the 21st century offers a surprisingly cruel reality reflective of
this barbarity. The pictures of this reality, brought to us daily by the media, can be
reduced to the following concept: otherness, the simple fact of being different in
some way, is defined as an evil in itself. All of us old enough to have encountered
the violence and volatility of the Balkans in 1990’s are living witnesses that this
is a sad truth.
31 Ibid., 55.485; 111.

32 Blowers P. M. and R. L. Wilken, On the Cosmic Mystery of Jesus Christ: Selected Writings
from St. Maximus the Confessor, Popular Patristic Series (Crestwood, NY: St Vladimirs
Seminary, 2003), 38.
33 M. Volf, Exclusion and Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and
Reconciliation (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1996), 60.
101
102 Kostake Milkov
Beginning with the newly coined term “ethnic cleansing” which was connected
to the wars in Croatia and in Bosnia and Herzegovina, through to the Kosovo crisis
and the armed conflict in Macedonia, people in the Balkans have been becoming
increasingly aware that exclusion is a modern mortal sin. This is a sin that forces us
to see reality through the prism of our own suffering and makes us act out of fear
and anger. It gives us an excuse to have a clean conscience while being the source
of suffering for others, for those who are not in our (smaller and smaller) circle.
Using the New Testament metaphor of salvation as reconciliation for his starting
point, Volf suggests the idea of embrace as a theological solution to the problem
of exclusion. The New Testament univocally emphasizes that salvation comes not
only when we are reconciled with God, learning to live “next to each other,” but
also when we open ourselves to the other. This is a dangerous move and carries
a high price with it. This is nevertheless the only worthy response to the same
dangerous and priceless move with which God has received us in his embrace,
or as Volf states, “the will to embrace precedes any ‘truth’ about others and any
construction of their ‘justice.’”34
In the exposition of his personal vision for resolving the problem of exclusion,
Volf listens to the voice of the past and the voices of the present. He tests his thesis
in the context of classical theology and philosophy as well as in contemporary
feminist and postmodern thought. The end result is the creative suggestion that
Christian teaching about the Holy Trinity, the Incarnation, and the cross is the best
platform for elucidating even the most demanding socio-political themes, such as
exclusion, oppression, justice, liberation, and peace.
In other words, Volf insists that the answer to these questions must have as its
guide God’s self-sacrificial love shown by Jesus on the cross. It follows, therefore,
that reconciliation between different groups of people with a history of animosity
is a process that also requires selfless, unconditional love.
Addressing the victims that frequently feature as future perpetrators in the
name of “just revenge,” Volf encourages them to resist converting the experience
of suffering into a source of violence. In order to achieve this, each side needs to
develop a “double vision”—the capacity to see reality through the eyes of the other
as well as through their own.
Constantly aware of God’s embrace of humanity, Volf emphasizes its social
implications. The image of an “arms wide-open” God clearly communicates to
the godless that He does not want to leave them to their own evil, but rather He
empties himself in order to bring them into fellowship with one another. We are
asked to do the same with our enemies, whoever they may be and no matter what
34 Ibid., 29.
involvement we may have had in the initiation and pursuit of enmity; because the
“will to be oneself must entail the will to let the other inhabit the self.”35
The key theses in Exclusion and Embrace have important consequences for the
condition of the world today, one that has become less and less tolerant towards the
“other.” People are called to repentance, to forgiveness, and to embrace unity not
only according to the example of Jesus, but also according to the recognition that
spiritual happiness can only be achieved through justice and peace.
Human Flourishing: The Reward of Walking with God
In the final part of this essay, we will explore the way in which religion can contrib-
ute to the flourishing of humanity. In order to frame our discussion of flourishing
we will examine John’s emphasis on the Logos in his Gospel, Gregory of Nyssa’s
teaching on Akolouthia (to follow), and the Abrahamic covenant.
In the opening three verses of his Gospel, John acknowledges that the Word
is Creator of the world. Nothing that has come into being can be outside of the
creative being of the Word. This reminds us of our position as contingent beings
in the midst of a contingent world. John establishes the relationship between the
Word and us. The fact that we are His creation and that we are created through
him indicates a more intimate intention of the relationship that the Word wants
to have with us. God could have created everything by merely commanding ex-
istence. Instead, He decided to create through His Word or Logos, which implies
much more than an uttered sound. In this way we are not creatures whose existence
only indicates God’s sovereign will, but first and foremost reflect His love and His
personal interest in creation.
God desires us from the very moment of our conception in and through his
Word. He has eternally been thinking desirously about us. What does this say
about human beings and how we should experience ourselves? John’s suggestion
is to experience ourselves as God’s beloved creatures, and as Nicholas Wolterstorff
elaborates, find our great worth in that belovedness. Wolterstorff goes so far as
to claim that, “other creatures, if they knew about that love, would be envious.”36
Besides this creative intimacy—something that the Church fathers will describe
as eros—in verses four and five John goes on to tell us about two other exceptional
concepts: Life and Light! Let us think for a moment about “Life”. Gen. 2:7 says
35 Ibid., 91.
36 N. Wolterstorff, Justice: Rights and Wrongs. (Princeton University Press, 2010), 360.
103
104 Kostake Milkov
that the “Lord breathed into his (man’s) nostrils the breath of life and he became
a living soul.” We discover here that the Spirit is involved in our becoming living
beings. By becoming alive we are endowed with the faculties that respond to our
environment and in our original state that involves experiencing creation in all of
its fullness. This includes our basic capacity to be amazed and awed. Amazed and
awed by what? By the unity, the goodness, the beauty, and the truth of creation.
The concept of life is a dynamic one, quite literally of dunamis, or potential. Life
means that we were always meant to create culture in our living space, but a culture
based on what Nigel Biggar calls a cosmic fulfillment that:
[I]nvolves the emergence and securing of beings capable of appreciating, and freely
committing themselves to, what is true and good and beautiful—that is, it involves
the growth and establishment of a community of virtuous human persons. This is
the human good: the condition where persons flourish.37
The other concept utilized by John helps us to grasp this further. John says that
this Life is at the same time Light. In other words the only way we can live our
lives authentically is to live them in the context of Light, the first quality to stage
the scene of the formless and empty earth. John says, “the Life was Light to the
people,” through which he wants to remind his readers that darkness does not have
the last word on the world’s destiny. The Light is the first and the last Word on the
world’s destiny. It is this Word about whom verse fourteen says that it became flesh.
By taking fallen created nature upon him the Word began the work of renewal,
confirming creation’s original unity, goodness, beauty, and truth. By the fact that
we are here, that we exist, and that we have been created in the image and likeness
of the Creator, the only way we can have our wholeness, our peace, or rather our
stasis, is to follow the example of the Word that became one of us and lived the
life of a perfect man. What Christ did through the incarnation Gregory of Nyssa
defines as akolouthia. Akolouthia, as presented in Gregory’s thought, is the order-
liness of the whole of creation. The only way that creation can function properly is
to follow the innate principles of order. Disorder is the falling away from goodness
and beauty. From this we see how ontology and ethics are connected, with the one
inevitably following the other. “This linking of ontology, epistemology and ethics
… was a central notion in Christian patristic thought. … Akolouthia is both ‘fol-
lowing’ intellectually and ‘following’ as discipleship.”38 Thus, all imperatives to live
a life which is not submitted to an inner logic of createdness collapse in themselves
37 N. Biggar, In Defence of War (Oxford University Press, 2013).

38 G. Paulos, Cosmic Man: The Divine Presence; an Analysis of the Place and Role of
the Human Race in the Cosmos, in Relation to God and the Historical World, in the
since our trajectory is never our own, but rather the one of ecstasy—going outside
of oneself, and thus, reflecting the glory of the One whose image we carry.
In the example of the Logos of John’s first chapter, the God-man Christ, hu-
manity has been introduced to the glorious possibility of union with God. In this
way man can experience God in the depth of his being. “... By affirming that this
mutual penetration without confusion occurs between God and man, Christianity
has revealed the unfathomable and indefinable mystery of the human person and
his consciousness.”39
Since “God is love,” to experience his love is to experience the fullness of His
divinity. To communicate that love to others is to communicate God himself. How
can this participation be expressed? I believe John Polkinghorne’s Science and Cre-
ation offers a scientific illustration or metaphor. Polkinghorne correlates the world
of thought to the physical world and suggests that man participates in the world
of thought in a similar manner to the way in which he participates in the physical
world: he neither creates it nor exhausts its content by his participation in it. “It is
rather like the way in which a particular diagrammatic representation of a theorem
in geometry participates in that theorem without being either its origin or its full
expression.”40 We neither create nor exhaust God. But we might participate in the
divine nature without being either its origin or its full expression.41
The biblical view of man sees his existence and the existence of all creation as a
result of God’s creative sustenance. Excluded from God’s creative activity, a being
becomes a non-being. Therefore the decisive question about the created beings is
not ontological: “Why is this being the being it is?” The question is rather teleo-
logical: “Why do beings exist at all?” The ontological question is asked by Greek
philosophy and the answer within that framework is that a being is as it is simply
because it is an eternally self-existing entity temporarily modified by matter and
imperfectness. The teleological question is the pursuit of the Bible, and the biblical
answer would be that the purpose of existence is to be sought in the only perfect
and self-existing Being—God. From this it follows that man is not an ontologically
determined entity but a being determined by the creative power of God. “To be
Thought of St. Gregory of Nyssa, Ca 330 to Ca 395 A.D. (New Delhi: Sophia Publica-
tions, 1998), 52.
39 D. Staniloae, Prayer and Holiness: The Icon of Man Renewed in God (Oxford: Fairacres
Publications, 1982), 14-15.
40 J. Polkinhorne, Science and Creation: The Search for Understanding (London: Templeton
Press, 1988), 76.
41 The Einstein-Podolsky-Rosen paradox within quantum theory indicates that when two
quanta have reacted with one another, they continue to have some influence on each
other no matter how far they eventually may be separated.
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106 Kostake Milkov
a finite being is to be open to the power and love of God, who, without annulling
or removing anything that he has given can always, if he sees fit, give more.”42 We
are then beloved creatures of God who can participate in him without losing our
individuality or humanity, and receiving from him without ever exhausting him.
In other words, the establishment of the Kingdom is not the end but the beginning
of a communion with the inexhaustible and never fully comprehensible God.
This should encourage Christians to acknowledge that the Kingdom of God is
already established on the earth standing in utmost opposition to the evil kingdoms
under the dominion of Satan. “Christ is the eschaton, or the divinely ordained
climax of the crisis of history. It was as a gift of God and not on account of human
effort. It was the manifest and effective assertion of the divine sovereignty in
conflict with evil in the world.”43
When we consider the historical context of Revelation, we are able to see that
the mythological language of the cosmic war depicts situations in the real world.
The application of the message of Revelation has to do more with the earth than
with heaven. It is the hope of heaven, the coming kingdom of God, which gives
strength to Christians to continue their fight against evil while on earth. Revelation
is the message to all generations of Christians to be assured that although it seems
that each generation lives in a period of “the eclipse of God” (Buber) and God’s
existence is far from self-evident, remembering what God has done for us in the
past gives us hope that He will bring the history of creation to a glorious victory
over the powers of darkness, sin, and evil. “In Jesus we have exhibited the power by
which God rules the world.”44 If Jesus conquered the world (Jn. 16:33), the believers
who are joined to him have done the same.
The biblical imagery of a cosmic battle might be too abstract to appreciate
its significance for our daily life. Nevertheless, the Bible never loses sight of the
cosmic battle that has an impact on the earth’s affairs. The spiritual forces which
opposed Jesus’ ministry on earth exercised their attack through the socio-political
structures of the Greco-Roman world. The Kingdom of God that Jesus inaugurated
is in contrast to that of the earthly governments (Matt. 20:28 and parallels). We
should identify with all victims of power as Jesus himself identified with humanity
by taking on human flesh.
42 E. L. Mascall, The Openness of Being: Natural Theology Today, The Gifford Lectures
in the University of Edinburgh 1970-1971 (London: Darton, Longman & Todd Ltd.,
1997), 247-248.
43 Ibid., 65.
44 G.G. Koontz, “The Liberation of Atonement”, Mennonite Quarterly Review 63, no. 2,
1989, 183.
But how are Christians to achieve that? The answer of the Eastern Church Fathers
points in the direction of self-denial. For example, such was Origen’s desire to see
the establishment of the Kingdom of God that in one of his homilies he writes:
If I, who seem to be your right hand and am called Presbyter and seem to preach the
Word of God, if I do something against the discipline of the Church and the Rule of
the Gospel so that I become a scandal to you, The Church, then may the whole Church,
in unanimous resolve, cut me, its right hand, off, and throw me away.45
Origen’s deepest yearning is to be identified or named as a Christian, as someone

who belongs to Christ. This is well indicated in another homily that ironically states
Origen’s fear to be identified as a heretic. Far from it, he states that he wants to be
a man of the Church, and then explains:
I do not want to be called by the name of some founder of a heresy, but by the name
of Christ, and to bear that name which is blessed on the earth. It is my desire, in deed
as in spirit, both to be and to be called a Christian.46
What Origen is chiefly concerned about is not his personal destiny, but rather the
condition of Christ’s Church and the establishment of God’s kingdom. It seems the
reward of the Christian life for Origen is not so much what one can get for oneself
by the acts of obedience to God, but paradoxically that we are the reward that
God gets for himself. From the two quotations above it can be said that for Origen
the pivotal importance of believers belonging to Christ is actually the reward for
Christ’s victory over death and sin. Salvation of the individual is significant only
in the context of the redeemed people of God. An Old Testament parallel can be
drawn from Is. 40:1-11. In verse 10 it says, “See, the Lord God comes with might,
and his arm rules for him; his reward is with him, and his recompense before him.”
Most contemporary commentators agree that the reward and the recompense
in this case refer to the people God has delivered. In Isaiah’s vision of Yahweh’s
victorious return to his city is not leading captives, but rather people whom he has
rescued from captivity. Or as Klaus Baltzer says “they are his wages, just as sheep
were Jacob’s wages.”47 The people who are Yahweh’s wages are the same to whom
45 Origen, Homiliae in Jesu Nave, in Die Griechischen Christlichen Schriftsteller, vol. 30,
ed. W. A. Baehrens, trans. B.J. Bruce (Leipzig: Hinrichs’sche Buchhandlung, 1921), 7.6;
150.
46 Origen, Homiliae in Lucam, in Die Griechischen Christlichen Schriftsteller, vol. 49, ed.
M. Rauner, trans. J.T. Lienhard (Leipzig: Hinrichs’sche Buchhandlung, 1931) 16.6; 109.
47 K. Baltzer, Deutero-Isaiah: A Commentary on Isaiah 40-55. Trans.Hermenia Margaret
Kohl (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2001).
107
108 Kostake Milkov
he gives the promise in Psalm 37:27, that they will dwell forever in the Promised
Land if they “turn away from evil and do good.” The promise can stand on its own
as it reflects the importance of obedience to God’s ordinances. However, verse 28
states explicitly what motivation one has for such obedience. It is to be found in
Yahweh’s love of justice. Or “In other words, he shall live a moral life to please God
and not at all to secure thereby a tranquil life.”48 A tranquil life is only a corollary
of this God-pleasing life.
Abraham’s calling and the subsequent story is a good example of this. First of
all God chooses a man who in the context of the given culture would have been the
least likely candidate for the task. Abraham does not seem to fit. Already uprooted
from his original home in Ur, he is now about to be uprooted from his closest family.
In this way Abraham is asked to leave behind the two most formative frameworks
of his context, a home country and an extended family, both of which pertain to
one’s identity and security. The verbs of promise such as “make,” “bless,” “make
great,” “be,” “bless,” “curse,” “find blessing” depend on one verb that Abraham
receives as a commandment, “go.” It is through the going of Abraham that God
will trigger into motion his blessings, of which the highest one according to Lev.
26:11-12 is that He walks among his people. Thus, in this call to Abraham we
already have God’s incipient promise to walk with him. This promise of walking
together reminds us of God’s original plan for humanity when he walked with the
first people in the Garden of Eden. In other words, with Abraham God was most
distinctively reasserting his intention to continue to build a people for himself to
whom he offers identity, greatness, providential care, and mediation. According to
Gordon Wenham what “Abram is here promised was the hope of many an oriental
monarch (cf. 2 Sam 7:9; Ps 72:17).”49
But the promise comes with a price. It is a call to give up all of that which for
Abraham is a source of comfort. In responding to this call he is to resolve himself
to dereliction, abnegation, and wandering in total surrender to God. Brueggemann’s
commentary on the story of the calling of Abraham observes that, “Such renunci-
ation, of course is exceedingly difficult to speak of in our culture which focuses on
self-indulgence because ‘you owe yourself this.’” 50 However, he is convinced that the
same call is valid for our culture because it is not about law or discipline, but promise.
48 A. Weiser, The Psalms: A Commentary, Trans. Herbert Hartwell (: Philadelphia, PA: Old
Testament Library, John Knox Press, 1962), 321.
49 G.J. Wenham, Genesis 1-15 Word Biblical Commentary (Dallas, TX: Zondervan, 1987),
275.
50 W. Brueggemann, Genesis, Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Preaching and
Teaching. (Atlanta, GA: John Knox Press, 1982), 118.
If with Abraham God begins the renewal of the personal relationship with
humankind represented in his walking in their midst and Abraham is called to a
life of renunciation, it seems that this renouncing act is already the reward. That
is, God’s full promises will be accomplished one day but his walking has started
in the here and now.
If one takes into consideration the absence of an unequivocal promise for a life
after death as a blessing for such an obedient response from Abraham, and indeed
the people of Israel as described in the Pentateuch, the response itself and the
willingness remains an inspiring reminder for what should be the motive of our
surrender and submission; namely, the sheer pleasure of living a life that is pleasing
to God, and which itself is an abundant reward.
References
Primary Sources
Maximus the Confessor (1866). Ambiguorum liber, in Patrologiae cursus completus, Series
Graeca, vol. 91, ed. J.P Migne, trans.P.M. Blowers and R.L. Wilken. Paris: Migne Im-
primerie Catholique.
Maximus the Confessor (1866). Disputatio cum Pyrrho in Patrologiae cursus completus,
Series Graeca, vol. 91, ed. J.P Migne. Paris: Migne Imprimerie Catholique.
Maximus the Confessor (1866). Epistolæ xlv, in Patrologiae cursus completus, Series Graeca,
vol. 91, ed. J.P Migne, trans. A. Louth. Paris: Migne Imprimerie Catholique.
Maximus the Confessor (1991). Expositio orationis dominicae, in Corpus Christianorum:
Series Graeca, vol. 23, ed. by P. Van Deun, trans. by G.C. Berthold. Turnhout-Leuven:
Brepols Publishers.
Maximus the Confessor (2000). Liber asceticus. in Corpus Christianorum: Series Graeca,
vol. 40, ed. P. Van Deun, trans. P. Sherwood. Turnhout-Leuven: Brepols Publishers.
Maximus the Confessor (1980). Quaestiones ad Thalassium, in Corpus Christianorum: Series
Graeca, vols. 7 and 22, ed. C. Laga and C. Steel, trans. P.M. Blowers and R.L. Wilken.
Turnhout-Leuven: Brepols Publishers.
Origen (1921). Homiliae in Jesu Nave, in Die Griechischen Christlichen Schriftsteller, vol. 30,
ed. W. A. Baehrens, trans. B.J. Bruce. Leipzig: Hinrichs‘sche Buchhandlung.
Origen (1931). Homiliae in Lucam, in Die Griechischen Christlichen Schriftsteller, vol. 49, ed.
M. Rauner, trans. J.T. Lienhard. Leipzig: Hinrichs’sche Buchhandlung.
Secondary Sources
Baltzer, K. (2001). A commentary on Isaiah 40-55. Hermenia Margaret Kohl, Trans. Min-
neapolis: Fortress Press.
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Berthold, G.C. (1985). Maximus the confessor: selected writings, the classics of Western
Spirituality. New York: Paulist Press
Biggar, N. (2013). In defense of war. Oxford: Oxford University Press
Blowers, P.M. (2005). Exegesis and spiritual pedagogy in Maximus the confessor: An in-
vestigation of the quaestiones ad thalassium. Christianity and Judaism in Antiquity, 7.
Blowers, P.M. and R.L Wilken (2003). On the cosmic mystery of Jesus Christ: Selected writing
from Maximus the confessor. Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary.
Bruce, B.J. (2003). Origen: Homilies on Joshua. Washington, DC: The Catholic University
of America Press.
Brueggemann, W. (1982). Genesis interpretation: A Bible commentary for preaching and
teaching. Atlanta, GA: Westminster John Knox Press.
Cooper, A.G. (1982). The body of St. Maximus the confessor: Holy flesh, wholly deified. Oxford:
Oxford University Press.
Garrigues, J.M. (1976). Maxime le confesseur: La charite, avenir divin de l’homme. Paris:
Beauchesne.
Koontz, G.G (1989). The liberation of atonement. Mennonite Quarterly Review 63 (2):171-192.
Lienhard, T.J. (2000). Origen: Homilies on Luke. Washington, DC: The Catholic University
of America Press.
Louth, A. (1996). Maximus the confessor. New York, NY: Routledge.
Mascall, E.L. (1997). The openness of being: Natural theology today, the Gifford lectures in the
university of Edinbyrh 1970-1971. London: Darton, Longman & Todd Ltd.
Nichols, A. (1993). Byzantine gospel: Maximus the confessor in modern scholarship. Edin-
burgh: T&T Clark.
Paulos, G. (1998). Cosmic Man: The divine presence, an analysis of the place and role of the
human race in the cosmos in relation to God and the historical world in the thought of St.
Gregory of Nyssa, ca. 330 to ca. 395 A.D. New Delhi: Sophia Publications.
Pirret, P. (1983). Le Christ et la Trinité selon Maxime le confesseur. Paris: Beauchesne Editeur.
Polkinhorne, J. (1988). Science and Creation: The search for understanding. London: Tem-
pleton Press.
Sherwood, P. (1955). St. Maximus the confessor: The ascetic life. London: Paulist Press.
Staniloae, D. (1982). Prayer and Holiness: The icon of man renewed in God. Oxford: Fairacres
Publications.
Thurnberg, L. (1995). Microcosm and mediator: The theological anthropology of Maximus
the confessor. Chicago, IL: Open Court Publishing Company.
Volf, M. (1996). A theological exploration of identity, otherness, and reconciliation. Nashville,
TN: Abingdon Press.
Weiser, A. (1962). The psalms: A Commentary (Herbert Hartwell, Trans.). Philadelphia, PA:
Westminster John Knox Press
Wenham, G.J. (1987). World Biblical commentary: Genesis 1-15. Dallas, TX: Zondervan.
Wolterstoff, N. (2010). Justice: Rights and wrongs. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.
Section II:
Islam and Violence
The Theological Background of Violence
in Islam
Ednan Aslan
Introduction
After every Islamist terror attack anywhere in the world, we can observe a variety
of reactions . Increasingly striking is the fact that the vast majority of Muslims
believe that such attacks have nothing to do with Islam . This is offset, however, by
a formidable public consensus that ascribes such attacks to Islam and even renders
Islam responsible . In this chapter, I would like to focus on both of these attitudes
and address two questions: whether or not the violence has to do with Islam and
what the Islamic sources have to say about violence .
In the first part of the chapter we will deal with the role of violence in the Qur’an
and the Sunna, followed by an examination of the different positions of these sources
in Islamic theology . Finally, an interpretation of these sources from a European
Muslim perspective will be presented . In conclusion, the causes of contemporary
acts of violence and possible theological solutions will be examined .
Violence in the Primary Sources of Islam: The Qur’an
Examining Islam’s approach to the causes for the use of force and violence inevitably
begins with the Qur’an, since the Qur’an is viewed as the basis for all theological
positions in Islam . Moreover, the general public, particularly non-Muslims, tend
to view the Qur’an as the cause of all wrongdoings in Muslim countries .
In the Qur’an, violence is considered from two perspectives . On the one hand,
there is the power of God, and on the other hand, there is human power . The sto-
ries of the prophets of Judaism that are related in the Qur’an are actually stories
about violence in which entire nations and ethnicities are annihilated for various
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reasons. Some names of God also point to this quality of God, such as “al-qahhār”
(The Subduer), “shadīd al-‘iqāb” (Severe in punishment), “sarī’ al-hisāb” (Swift in
reckoning), “al-jabbar” (The Powerful), and “dhū’l-intiqām” (The Avenger).
Nations who did not take the prophetic warnings seriously are represented as
deserving of the punishment of God:
“But when they continued to challenge Us, We inflicted Our retribution on

them, and drowned all of them.” (Qur’an 43:55)
According to the interpretation of the Islamic theologian Ilhami Güler, which can
be found in one of his unpublished essays, violence has always been an instrument
in the Divine method of education. The Qur’an considers it to be a response to
human actions that are contrary to God’s wishes:
“For, no wrong did We do to them, but it was they who wronged themselves.”
(Qur’an 11:101; see also 3:117)
Moreover, sinners are threatened with various penalties in the Hereafter, such as
condemnation to burn in the eternal fire, to be immersed in boiling water, to drink
pus and other disgusting fluids, etc. (see for example Qur’an 47:15; 78:25-28, and
other verses). 1 These penalties are referred to as God’s just response to the actions
of evildoers and are not perceived as inappropriate violence (Qur’an 10:54). Many
Islamic scholars see all of these threats as nothing more than preventive reminders
from God, in the hope that people will not abandon the true and just way (Qur’an
20:113).
During the period of the revelation (610-632 CE) the Qur’an did not constitute
the only original source of violence. Very crucial here is the pre-Islamic Arab tribal
tradition, which at the time was more or less regarded as customary law, since
almost all of the penalties found in the Qur’an originated in that tradition. The
Qur’an itself strongly criticized the stubbornness of the Arab Bedouins (Qur’an
9:97), not in relation to the Qur’an or in a spiritual context, but rather in relation
to the Arab tribal tradition.
Neither the murders of the Prophet’s successors, nor even the extermination of
the members of the Prophet’s family, nor the killing of apostates after the Prophet’s
1 M. Asad understands that behind these depicted threats of the Hereafter is nothing
more than the symbolic expression of the pain of self-accusation and remorse, which
is produced by the conscience of the individual. Asad (1989), Sura 15, footnote 33.
The Theological Background of Violence in Islam 115
death, nor the wars undertaken among his Companions, were due to the Qur’an.
All of them resulted instead from the well-known Arab tribal tradition. This is an
irrefutable historical fact.
With well-focused observation, it is easy to recognize that the Qur’an views
the Arab tribal tradition as the real challenge to the Divine will and would like
to cautiously lead people out of this tradition of violence and into a tradition of
forgiveness—cautiously, since people cannot be extracted from their old, deeply
ingrained habits overnight.
In some places, the Qur’an vigorously attempts to come to terms with that tra-
dition, but what can be discerned in the overall context of the Qur’an is that the
Qur’an would like to take the limits and the possible speed of social change into
consideration, so as not to overburden the ability of the people to cope with pressure:
But when they are told, “Follow what God has bestowed from on high,” some
answer, “Nay, we shall follow (only) that which we have found our forefathers
believing in and doing.” Why, even if their forefathers did not use reason at
all, and were devoid of all guidance? (Qur’an 2:170)
This must be the reason why certain processes of distancing from the past occupied
the whole chain of prophets for so long.
In the example of the pre-Islamic custom of killing female infants, we see that
the Qur’an wants to break with the Arab tradition, but recognizes, nonetheless,
that humankind needs time to process change. It is not only for this reason that
the Qur’an can be enlivened and more deeply understood in the present through
concentrated reflection (cf. Qur’an 81: 8-9).
The real challenge for the revelation was to lead the Meccans from a violent and
punitive conception of God to a tradition of forgiveness, since the Meccans had
learned in their eternally fractious and extremely patriarchal and masculine tribal
tradition to fear God as a violent power and to regard forgiveness as weakness:
Thus have We raised thee (O Muhammad) as Our Apostle amidst a community

[of unbelievers], before whose time [similar] communities have come and gone,
so that thou might propound to them what We have revealed unto thee: for
[in their ignorance] they deny the Most Gracious! Say: “He is my Sustainer.
There is no deity save Him. In Him have I placed my trust, and unto Him is
my recourse!” (Qur’an 13:30)
Similarly, the Qur’an recounts the refusal of the Meccans to believe in Surat al-Furqan,
indicating that they did not want to worship God as the “Most Gracious One”.
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Yet when they [who are bent on denying the truth] are told: “Prostrate yourselves
before the Most Gracious,” they are wont to ask, “And [who and] what is the
Most Gracious? Are we to prostrate ourselves before whatever thou biddest us
[to worship]?”—and so [thy call] but increases their aversion. (Qur’an 25:60)
What is true for many other ayahs in the Qur’an also applies here, that people who
want to act within the meaning of the Qur’an must learn to think more deeply about
it, since the Qur’an itself would like to escort people out of a tradition of vengeance
and violence and into a tradition of forgiveness and grace.
In addition to these instructions, there is also another indication that the Qur’an
would like to overcome the fearsome and destructive image of God that was firmly
anchored in the minds of the Arabs:
…and so they say: “[O Muhammad,] we shall not believe thee till thou cause a
spring to gush forth for us from the earth, or thou have a garden of date-palms
and vines and cause rivers to gush forth in their midst in a sudden rush, or
thou cause the skies to fall down upon us in smithereens, as thou has threat-
ened, or [until] thou bring God and the angels face to face before us, or thou
have a house [made] of gold, or thou ascend to heaven—but nay, we would not
[even] believe in thy ascension unless thou bring down to us [from heaven] a
writing which we [ourselves] could read!” Say thou [O Prophet]: “Limitless in
His glory is my Sustainer! Am I, then, aught but a mortal man, an apostle?”
(Qur’an 17: 90-93)
This statement in the Qur’an is also reflected in the rejection of the traditions of
miracles of the Abrahamic religions, in that the Qur’an refers to itself as the work
of God, and this, according to the nature of human understanding, is a miracle
(cf. Qur’an 10: 38-39).
The violence that is currently justified based on the Qur’an can only find legit-
imacy in the revelation if one excludes the Qur’an from human thought processes
and returns Muslims to the atmosphere of the tribal skirmishes and wars of the
7th century, since that would force the Qur’an, as a living process, into geographic
and temporal strictures. That would be nothing other than a fragmentation and
perversion of the Qur’anic message, which does not in fact perceive humans as
simple consumers of writings, but rather as beings who are capable of using their
own competence to design appropriate responses. Thus based on this intellectual
attitude it should be apparent that the real message of the Qur’an is not tied to the
ever-changing human understanding of justice, but rather rests on the abiding
forgiveness and grace of God:
But [remember that an attempt at] requiting evil may, too, become an evil:
hence, whoever pardons [his foe] and makes peace, his reward rests with
God—for, verily, He does not love evildoers. (Qur’an 42:40)
In another qur’anic verse, the intentions of God, which are reflected in human ac-
tions, become clearer, since all the sanctions mentioned in the Qur’an originated in
Arab tribal relationships, as well as in other sacred monarchies of the same human
epoch, and not in the Qur’an. The Qur’an indicates, however, where it would like to
lead people. For this, a frequently mentioned qur’anic verse on physical punishment
serves as an interesting example.
Now as for the man who steals and the woman who steals, cut off the hand of
either of them in requital for what they have wrought, as a deterrent ordained
by God: for God is almighty, wise. (Qur’an 5:38)
The true will of God, however, is evident in the following verse, because in it God
presents forgiveness as being the primary goal of Islam:
But as for him who repents after having thus done wrong, and makes amends,
behold, God will accept his repentance: verily, God is much-forgiving, a dis-
penser of grace. (Qur’an 5:39)
Similarly, with the example of other verses, we can see that the real message of the
Qur’an is grace and forgiveness. Laws that people need for their social and political
order originate, accordingly, in human thinking and depend on particular social
relations. Thus, the physical penalties mentioned in the Qur’an should be under-
stood as pre-Islamic and thus familiar and recognized forms of human measures for
that epoch, not as God’s ultimate will (see for example Qur’an 2:178-179, 5:27-29).
Violence in the Sunna
After the death of the Prophet, the hadith books, unwittingly or even intention-
ally, began to replace the Qur’an in the daily lives of Muslims. The Qur’an, in and
of itself, is not the sole foundation of Islamic theology. In the Sunna, violence is
understandable and clear. Through its own theology, the Sunna even replaced
the qur’anic perspectives in many areas. In the hadith books, there are numerous
depictions of violence that are claimed to have been endorsed by the Prophet and
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his messages. These representations, which begin with punishments including cru-
cifixion or death by burning, include all facets of violence, which are presented as
nothing extraordinary but instead as everyday occurrences in this era. According
to the six main hadith books of Sunni Islam alone, the Prophet himself led over 38
military expeditions and more than 90 wars were performed on his behalf (Tekin,
2015, 36-78). The instances of violence in these war scenes, which is unimaginable
by contemporary human standards, constitute the main points of reference for
many contemporary terrorist organizations.
The so-called ‘ISIS’ retrieved its theological references to burn the Jordanian
pilot alive from these sorts of works (Dabiq, 2016, 05-09). Not only was that crime
committed in the name of Islam, but almost all of the terrorist violence, including
suicide attacks, finds legitimacy in these works (Kostantinniyye, no. 3, 1436, 39).
An honest and non-apologetic consideration of these books allows Muslims, who
really approach these books seriously and critically, no other consideration. In
addition, the circumstances surrounding the revelation of verse 33 of Chapter 5 of
the Qur’an, al-Ma’idah (The Table Spread),2 as presented in the hadith collection
of Bukhari, are made to deliver even more violent messages. Examples of these are
that there were apostates and enemies of God whose bleeding the Prophet refused
to stop, allowing them to die (al-Bukhari, Hudud 16); some apostates and enemies
of God, while they were dying were given no water to drink (al-Bukhari, Hudud
117); according to one portion of a report the Prophet violently removed the eyes
of the enemy fighters (al-Bukhari, Hudud 118).
Not only in al-Bukhari’s collection, but also in every other recognized hadith
work, one can find statements about the killing of apostates, torture, burning, etc.
that contradict the basic principles of the Qur’an (cf. Abu Dāwūd, Hudud 3; Bukhari,
Jihad 149; Muslim Masajid, 42) and could offer almost any act of violence a broad
basis for Islamic legitimacy.
Without repeating these traditions or classical theological discussions about
the quality and truthfulness of certain traditions (Ertürk, 2002), I would like to
highlight a fundamental problem in dealing with the Sira, or Islamic accounts of
the Prophet’s life, which demonstrates that some Muslims regard the history of
the Meccan or Medinan periods, or in general, the history of Islam, explicitly as
God’s history, or as a history of the Prophet. A distorted image results from this,
since some Muslims attempt to construct religious practice based on this history.
2 Q 5:33. The punishment of those who wage war against God and His Apostle, and strive
with might and main for mischief through the land is: execution, or crucifixion, or the
cutting off of hands and feet from opposite sides, or exile from the land: that is their
disgrace in this world, and a heavy punishment is theirs in the Hereafter.
In fact, the history of Muhammad may be reduced neither to God’s history, nor to
the history of prophecy in Islam:
The fact that Muhammad was, admittedly, not only a prophet, but also a ruler
and warlord, makes it difficult for Islam to place nonviolence, love of enemies,
and forgiveness at the center of its attention. (Palaver, 2008, 170)
The actions of the Prophet Muhammad in Medina should be mainly understood

in this historical and political context, since many actions of the Prophet did not
originate in the Qur’an, but rather in his personal thinking, or in mutual consul-
tation, at that time. It was not qur’anic verses, but instead the political and cultural
conditions in Medina that constituted the basis for the constitution of Medina. This
has to do with the fact that Islam is not a prophet-centered religion, but instead
seeks to be a God-conscious and monotheistic (tawhid-conscious) religion:
And Muhammad is only an apostle; all the [other] apostles have passed away
before him: if, then, he dies or is slain, will you turn about on your heels? But
he that turns on his heels can in no way harm God—whereas God will requite
all those who are grateful [to Him]. (Qur’an 3: 144)
The actions and statements of the Prophet in active social life arose in a specific
social context which was not dependent only on his demands. This included his
wars, but also his emigration from Mecca to Medina, which he undertook against
his will. He had to take the societal relations, and above all the natural needs, of the
people into account when he made decisions, since, as a prophet, he was not able
to regard the people independently of and separately from those societal relations.
For this reason, when considering the Prophet’s message one should differenti-
ate between his statements expressing the objectives of the religious message and
those statements arising in a context where his actions were dependent on specific
obligations. Such negotiations by the Prophet as guidance for Muslims should not
be taken as compulsory mandates or engender strict obedience without exception,
since Muslims themselves as his successors are not obligated to repeat the same
actions in every context. Such an understanding of every element of the Sunna as
completely normative would have fatal consequences for the understanding of the
teachings and person of the Prophet in the lives of Muslims.
From this more nuanced and contextualized perspective, we see Muhammad
as a prophet highlighting the moral rudiments of society and committed to serv-
ing as a model: “God has made me a generous servant not a violent tyrant!” (Abu
Dawud, Salah 143, Ibn Maja, Salah 1086). This statement also finds agreement in
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the Qur’an, since Muhammad, in his prophetic role, was sent as the prophet of
mercy and forgiveness:
And [thus, O Prophet], We have sent thee as [an evidence of Our] grace towards
all the worlds. (Qur’an 21:107).
Violence and Islamic Theology
Already during the fatal illness of the Prophet Muhammed, which allegedly went
on for about 15 days, the foundations of the young Muslim community based on
sincerity, justice, and cohesion, began to crumble. The pre-Islamic tribal tradition
reverted to its old behavior patterns and the Companions of the Prophet forgot many
of their Islamic ethical and political values. They began to fight with one another
as before, based on their pervious practice (cf. Akbulut, 2001, 13-19). The election
of Abu Bakr as head of the Muslim community did not derive its legitimacy from
the Qur’an, but rather from the well-known Arab tribal rituals, according to which
the community head should be a khalifa (representative) of the tribe of Quraysh,
thus the derivation of Abu Bakr’s title of “Caliph” of the Prophet (cf. al- Bukhari,
Ahkam 51; Muslim, Imarat 5-9). Although political authority was not even a part
of Muslim prophecy (Qur’an 42: 6, 48; 50:45, 17:54), rulership was established
after the death of the Prophet to be a necessary part of Islam through excessively
manipulated theological arguments. The subsequent wars and uprisings of the
Arab tribes clearly demonstrate that such pseudo-religious arguments did not
convince the real majority of Muslims, since Abu Bakr, with incredible severity,
executed more than 30,000 people and even had some tribes completely eradicated
(cf. Fayda 2008 , 91-93).
By this, I simply mean that the theological history of Islam legitimated vio-
lence as a religious means immediately after the death of the Prophet and this
even became central to its teachings. Therefore, the instruments of power such as
domination, destruction, and conquest were among the primary responsibilities
of Muslim political authorities. For this reason, all of the wars after Muhammad’s
death were carried out not due to threats to the community, but rather as a result
of power interests.
To legitimize these wars and conquests, Islamic identity was justified and exalted
by devaluating others. The territories inhabited by Muslims were described as the
domain of Islam (dār al-islām), while other areas, those not ruled by Muslims, were
deemed the living spaces of unbelievers (dār al-kufr), who were showered with
labels such as “enemies of Islam”, “the nastiest people”, “those who are lower than
animals”, “impure people”, “soldiers of the devil”, and a cascade of countless other
neologisms of hatred. Anyone who did not submit to the demands of the Muslims
was denounced in a devastating fashion. All of these definitions and labels, which
may be found in the Qur’an, are here taken out of context and used as arguments
for military actions. To legitimize conquests, many sayings of the Prophet were
invented, such that Muslims could no longer distinguish Islam from the warlike
interests of the rulers:
Constantinople was so powerful as a symbol of resistance to the expansion of Islam

that a whole series of ahadith, some authentic and some not, as well as legendary
and folk-epic material, spread about the future Muslim conquest of the city (Inalcik,
2010 /2011, 1).
With the development of Islamic theology in the 8th and 9th century, it was hardly
possible for Muslim scholars, under pressure from rulers, to distinguish the Arab
tribal tradition from the meaning of the Qur’an. A theology emerged that introduced
violence as being God’s desire into the foundations of Islamic theology.
For the expansion of political power interests, in addition to military measures,
theological foundations were necessary, since justifying war exclusively on the basis
of political and economic gains would be in obvious contradiction to the Prophetic
tradition. In response to the Crusades of the Christians, the Muslims developed the
jihad theory as a theological foundation for the power interests of the authorities.
As Düzgün notes in his analysis, this theory constituted a profound break from
the position on jihad in the teachings of the Qur’an:
Here one must point to specific contents: What was revealed in Medina was not jihad,
but instead war (qital). Jihad was first revealed in Mecca. As I will explain, jihad
initially carries no meaning that refers to military action. In contrast to jihad, war
(qital) required a military organization to defend something or to attack as a means
of territorial expansion. On the other hand, jihad demanded no organized movement
or attack, but instead only affected the individual and society. . . al-Maturidi (d. 944)
defined jihad as any actions that prevent war.3 (Düzgün, 2016).
Despite the many Sufi movements in Islamic history that valorized the prophetic
report exalting the “inner” jihad against the ego above military struggles, jihad
theory was established as a permanent component of the warlike actions of Muslim
dynasties and has experienced a revival through the modern Islamist movements
of the 20th century.
3 Or as any actions that take place not in the context of or prior to undertaking a war.
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Today, a majority of the Islamist organizations adopt this theology of violence as

the basis for their terrorist acts. Even the former Mufti of the Islamic Community
in Austria demonstrates that this theology of violence has infected all of Islamic
theology and that violence has been internalized as an instrument of Muslim life.
In the second verse, however, the reason that war is commanded is because Muslims
must weaken the power and domination of the infidels, so that they are unable to
proliferate unrest [fitna] among or harm the Muslims. In the fight for these objectives,
a Muslim may be required to sacrifice his or her life, if necessary. For this, one may
be rewarded with martyrdom. (Mullaoğlu, 2009, 39-40)
According to the Mufti, this theological foundation also has current political
significance:
You taught us that Islam is not a religion of defense, but a religion of aggression and
conquest for the liberation of humanity, a religion that requires us to be committed
to jihad to the point of exhaustion to ensure the rule of justice and righteousness.
(Mullaoğlu, 2015)
Not only in the area of jihad, but also in many other spheres of life, we can observe
the dominating effect of this theology among Sunni jurists. A 19th-century Turkish
Mufti warned with similar zeal against the dangers that threaten those who interact
with non-Muslims, claiming that Muslims should avoid non-Muslim territories.
He is referring to the medieval dar al-harb and dar al-islam theory to justify the
anti-Western sentiment that dominates the Muslim world:
Ahmet Gümüshanevi (d. 1893) said in this regard that those Muslims who live among
non-Muslims, build a house there, participate in their holidays, adopt their customs,
and die under those circumstances, will be punished in the Hereafter together with
the unbelievers. (Aksoy, 2016)
The attacks and crimes of ISIS have their roots in this type of theology, which firmly
anchored violence as a form of worship in Islamic doctrine:
Such laments as ‘Where does the adversity of ISIS come from?’ or, ‘ISIS has nothing
to do with Islam’ have no meaning at all. Perhaps, ISIS is not entirely a product of the
fiqh or tafsir traditions, but the fact that ISIS is fed by the jihad and war theories of
Muslim countries is also an indisputable fact. The fiqh and tafsir scholars under the
protection of these states and dynasties have produced these doctrines in support of
the interests of the rulers. For example: Setting out to wage war on Vienna would be
viewed negatively, whereas if the mission were defined as conquest, it could even be
considered sacred. Although ISIS justifies its crimes with the same ayat and ahadith
that early scholars used to develop their theories, ISIS is demonized by Muslims
by whom they are considered invalid. But to simply demonize ISIS is a cheap and
dishonest response and neither appropriate, nor credible behavior. Viewing ISIS as
a refuge for marginalized groups, criminal offenders, and victims of society would
be a simple solution. It may well be that ISIS is made up of those people, but such an
attempt at a description is inadequate for characterizing the overall problem. What
ISIS does can clearly be defined as violence, terrorism, and crime. Using nihilism to
explain ISIS is also not applicable. . . If we truly want to criticize ISIS, then we must
deal critically with the terms that are fundamental to our theology, such as shari‘a,
Islamic state, caliphate, and jihad. (Öztürk, 2016)
All of these facts, which are repeatedly mentioned by critical Islamic theologians,
call our attention to the theological background of violence motivated by Islam. It
would, however, certainly not be accurate to reduce the cause of violence only to
religion and to lose sight of the social, economic, and political conditions.
The first foundation for the theologically based violence which not only affects
Muslims is the absolutist truth claim of Muslims, which excludes further truth
claims and regards Islam as the last and final religion. Based on this position, other
peoples and territories are presented pejoratively, in such a way that, from this,
the duty arises for Muslims either to convert all others or to bring them, through
conquest, under the protection or domination of Muslim states. In order to revise
this attitude, it is necessary to critically interrogate the words ‘Islam’ and ‘Mus-
lims’ to determine whether or not these terms, under the pressure of the wars of
the states, have been distanced from their true meanings, so that they justify the
belligerent intents of the rulers.
What is Islam?
The fact that the term ‘Islam’ designates a specific religion and the term ‘Muslim’
only its adherents is not apparent from the Qur’an, but instead this identification
arises from the theological history of Islam. The Qur’an rather defines these terms
as “godly devotion” and as “those people who are conscious of God”, respectively.
According to the Qur’an, godly devotion is not to be understood as blind obedience,
but rather as a responsible God-human relationship. Evidence for this can be found
in the example of Abraham, who did not regard religious affiliation or meticulous
obedience as tantamount to godly devotion.
123
124 Ednan Aslan
Abraham was neither a ‘Jew’ nor a ‘Christian’, but was one who turned away
from all that is false (ḥanīf), having surrendered himself unto God (muslim);
and he was not of those who ascribe divinity to aught beside Him. (Qur’an 3:67)
The term ‘Muslim’ is applied in the Qur’an not only to Ibrahim (Abraham), but also
to the sons of Yaqub (Jacob) (Qur’an 2:133) and the apostles of Jesus. The Qur’an
even relates that Pharaoh, when he was close to drowning, described himself as
being among those who are “Muslims” (Qur’an 10:90… Wa-‘anā min al-muslimīn). 4
From this, it is apparent that the later theological definitions of ‘Islam’ and ‘Mus-
lim’ do not correspond with the qur’anic descriptions of these two concepts. In the
former, the institutionalization of religion is of immediate importance, whereas in
the Qur’an the promotion of religious God-consciousness as a universal identifying
characteristic of godly devotion is the primary focus of attention.5 In this regard,
the two terms ‘Islam’ and ‘Muslim’ acquire new meaning. They are understood not
only in terms of a specific institutionalized religion (sharī’at Islam) and its adherents,
but also in relation to the foundation of faith for all people who believe in God. 6
In this regard, Okuyan and Öztürk (2001) criticize reducing being a Muslim
to the implementation of certain religious rituals just as they resist defining the
terms ‘Islam’ and ‘Muslim’ only in terms of the specific historical religion that was
proclaimed by Muhammad and to its adherents:
4 Qur’an 10:90. “I have come to believe that there is no deity save Him in whom the
children of Israel believe, and I am of those who surrender themselves unto Him!”
5 Muhammad Asad comments on the verse, “For, behold, it is the God-conscious
[alone] whom gardens of bliss await with their Sustainer: or should We, perchance,
treat those who surrender themselves unto Us as [We would treat] those who remain
lost in sin?” (Qur’an 68:34-35), in which the term ‘Muslim’ is used for the first time in
the history of the revelation of the Qur’an, as follows: “This is the earliest occurrence
of the term muslimūn (sing. muslim) in the history of qur’anic revelation. Through-
out this work, I have translated the terms muslim and islam in accordance with their
original connotations, namely, one who surrenders [or ‘has surrendered’] himself to
God, and man’s self-surrender to God; the same holds true for all forms of the verb
aslama occurring in the ‘Qur’an. It should be borne in mind that the institutionalized
use of these terms—that is, their exclusive application to the followers of the Prophet
Muhammad—represents a definitely post-qur’anic development and, hence, must be
avoided in a translation of the Qur’an.”
6 Qur’an 3:19. “Behold, the only [true] religion in the sight of God is [man’s] self-sur-
render (islam) unto Him;” or Qur’an 3:85. “For, if one goes in search of a religion
other than self-surrender unto God (islām), it will never be accepted from him, and in
the life to come he shall be among the lost.”
. . . such verses from the Qur’an as “Islam is the only religion before God” (3:19) or “I
[God] have ordained Islam for you as a religion” were interpreted as meaning institu-
tionalized Islam, while all people outside of this category were necessarily classified
as being ʻkafirsʼ (unbelievers). In the light of this generally exclusivistic position
regarding the contents of the Qur’an, any praises found in the text for followers of
other religions needed to be interpreted as only referring to Jews and Christians up
to the time of the Prophet, or else these [positive] verses were declared to have been
abrogated. (174-175)
‘Muslims’ are therefore any people who, beginning with Prophet Adam, perform
good works with godly devotion and champion justice. It is only through this
righteousness that the consequences of rituals can have a positive impact on society
and can be made manifest. Without this righteousness, and its resulting impact
and visibility, the universal objectives of faith cannot be attained.
The Bedouins say, “We have attained to faith.” Say [unto them, O Muham-
mad]: “You have not [yet] attained to faith”; you should [rather] say, “We have
[outwardly] surrendered”—for [true] faith has not yet entered your hearts.
But if you [truly] pay heed unto God and His Apostle, He will not let the least
of your deeds go to waste: for, behold, God is much forgiving, a dispenser of
grace. (Qur’an 49:14)
Turkish theologian Mahmut Aydın supplements this verse with the comment that
Muslims should rethink their own position in relation to both non-Muslims and
intra-Muslim diversity.
In addition to this general meaning, this verse gives expression to a current problem of
Muslim communities in dealing with diversity and unity. In this regard, the question
arises as to whether or not a school of law, theological explanation, or an ideology
can declare a Muslim an unbeliever? If we look for the answer to this question in the
Qur’an, we find an impressive response: “Do not say unto anyone who offers you the
greeting of peace, Thou art not a believer.” (4:94) Regardless of the commitment to
religious pluralism on the basis of faith, Muslims are unfortunately not even able to
admit the existence of diversity within their own society. (Aydın, 2005, 119)
By recognizing other truths in addition to one’s own, Muslims would be able to

define themselves without devaluing or scorning others. Faith should not lead a
person to arrogance, but instead to humility, so that the believer repeatedly recog-
nizes himself anew in the mirror of the other.
125
126 Ednan Aslan
Victimhood as a Basis for Violence
The history of humankind on earth begins, according to the Qur’an, with a story
of victimhood, in which the victim, Adam’s son Habil (Abel) reconciles with the
one who threatens him and renounces any revenge against him. In adopting this
attitude, he relies entirely on the justice of God.
[And Cain] said: “I will surely slay thee!” [Abel] replied: “Behold, God accepts
only from those who are conscious of Him. Even if thou lay thy hands on me
to slay me, I shall not lay my hand on thee to slay thee: behold, I fear God, the
Sustainer of the worlds. (Qur’an 5:27-28)
Although this early conflict between the brothers arose over the supposed divine
preference for animal sacrifice, later in the course of human history, the sacrifice
of animals escalated into the sacrifice of humans in many cultures, such that hu-
mankind gave even further expression to its own victimhood and unconditional
submissiveness in a monstrous ritual through this self-sacrifice. Physical sacrifice
was later civilized in the monotheistic religions and returned to its original state, so
that humanity could, through animal sacrifices, adequately express this readiness
to obey the divine command.
Even more can be gleaned from the Qur’an on this matter, namely that the
Qur’an, even in this area, seeks to motivate people to develop a more evolved
intellectual approach by stating that God needs neither animal nor human sacri-
fices, but rather that God-consciousness is the decisive prerequisite for a healthy
God-human relationship:
“Never does their [sacrificial] flesh reach God, neither their blood: it is only
your God-consciousness that reaches Him. . .” (Qur’an 22:37)
After the colonization of Muslim countries and their constant defeats in politics,
business, and science, Muslims faced a hopelessness that drove them to explain
these defeats, in other words, to find a culprit. The simplest solution that did not
require great effort, and the one that seems to be the most common route of human
weaknesses and psychological flaws, was identification with victimhood in order
to avoid critical and strenuous self-examination of the role of their own religious
attitudes, culture, and society. An example of this is the following opinion:
When Muslims were more advanced (in science, economics, and military power),
they did not, out of principle, use the filter of this proud and positive self-perception
to exploit the weak, nor their power to spread injustice. Instead they behaved as a
protective force for the defenseless. But the West, with its power, exploited the weak,
destroyed cultures and civilizations, at the expense of life and assets, and became
rich by depriving vulnerable people of liberty. When the powerful are tyrants, it
goes without saying that the weak lose their means of existence. (Karaman, 2016)
Karaman is not the only scholar from the Muslim world who attributes the political
defeat of Muslims solely to the injustice of the West. According to this view, there are
Islamophobic forces at work all over the world which are backed by a conspiracy of
the West and Zionists against Islam. Thus, an image of the world emerges in which
Muslims are always the victims, and the West and Zionists are all perpetrators.
This attitude leads to a devaluation of, or even a contempt for, Western culture and
civilization and exaggerated polemics such as the following:
The suicide rate in Europe and America has reached new heights, as is likewise the
case regarding divorce. Genocide and abortion cost millions their lives. Alcohol and
drugs destroy countless lives. A terrible struggle for markets and economic prosperity
rages among different classes and peoples. Jealousy, malice, and enmity cause people
to be against their neighbors. The race for ownership has made the lives of so many
people bitter. The huge and glittering cities of our time, which seem so magnificent
from a distance, provide shelter to millions of people who live in misery. Do you call
that success? Is that what you are striving for so enviously? (Maududi, 2001)
A leading figure of the Muslim Brotherhood, Sayyid Qutb (d. 1966), argued his
anti-Western position in a similar manner:
When humans, as happened in Europe, lose their faith, the central node of their lives,
disorientation and perversity arise. European thought wanted to free itself from the
oppression of the Church, and in the process, it distanced itself from the permanent
pillars of religion. (Qutb, 1991, 87-90)
European civilization is a product of the victory over a degenerate teaching of the

Church. For this reason, hatred against the Creator and supernatural creation lies
dormant in the hearts of experts of science and philosophy. (Maududi, 2015)
Such a ‘victim’ mentality and the resulting contempt for other religions and cultures
inevitably leads to violence. In the writings of ISIS which are directed against the
West, it can be clearly seen that violence receives its nourishment from two sources:
denial of non-Islamic religious truths and contempt for and devaluation of those
who believe in other faiths:
1. We hate you, first and foremost, because you are disbelievers; you reject the oneness
of Allah–whether you realize it or not—by making partners for Him in worship, you
127
128 Ednan Aslan
blaspheme against Him, claiming that He has a son, you fabricate lies against His
prophets and messengers, and you indulge in all manner of devilish practices. It is
for this reason that we were commanded to openly declare our hatred for you and
our enmity towards you. … Furthermore, just as your disbelief is the primary reason
we hate you, your disbelief is the primary reason we fight you, as we have been com-
manded to fight the disbelievers until they submit to the authority of Islam, either by
becoming Muslims, or by paying jizyah—for those afforded this option—and living
in humiliation under the rule of Muslims … (Dabiq, Issue 15, Shawwal 1437, 30-34)
2. We hate you because your secular, liberal societies permit the very things that Allah
prohibited, while banning many of the things He permitted, a matter that doesn’t con-
cern you because you separate religion and state, thereby granting supreme authority
to your whims and desires via the legislators you vote into power…—your secularism
and nationalism, your perverted liberal values, your Christianity and atheism—and
all the depravity and corruption they entail. You’ve made it your mission to “liberate”
Muslim societies; we’ve made it our mission to fight off your influence and protect
mankind from your misguided concepts and your deviant way of life. (Dabiq, Issue
15, Shawwal 1437, 30-34)
Although the power of ISIS shocks Muslims, the lines of argument of ISIS are not
so different from the lines of argument of the other representatives of political
Islam, namely that Muslims are victims of Western hegemonic goals. On the basis
of this victimhood, all violence against the West is legitimized and considered a
natural reaction of Muslims.
In these explanations, one should not lose sight of the role of certain actions of
the West in Afghanistan, Iraq, etc., namely, that erroneous policy and military action
have made this region into a battleground. Still the real challenge that Muslims
must face is not resolved merely through the condemnation of others, but instead
by also acknowledging and addressing their own responsibility. It is with this kind
of critical attitude that the problems can be solved, not with lamentations about a
deplorable and eternal sacrifice, which makes critical reflection on their own role
impossible. Thus, the path of self-knowledge is key in finding true solutions to the
complex challenges faced by Muslims in diverse contemporary situations.
Conclusion
In the Islamic sources one finds numerous indications that can be read as presenting
violence as being God’s will. An analysis of the entire context of the Qu’ran and
the life and way of thinking of the Prophet, however, indicates that it is not these
writings, which are self-contained, that form the actual basis for the practice of
Muslims, but instead the representations of the secondary goals that can be derived
from these writings. Nor is it the societal order of that era with its 7th-century tra-
ditions that should form the basis for the religious practices of Muslims, but rather
the general ethical orientations that can be derived, interpreting with intellectual
maturity, from the scriptures.
However, if Muslims do not succeed in performing critical self-reflection, there
is a danger that they will catapult the present back into past history and thereby
perceive society through the filter of an atmosphere of war and expulsion. From this
perception there arises contempt for and devaluation of others, together with the
resulting violence, which are legitimized by writings about military expeditions in
the Qur’an and then presented as being God’s will. The past is revived in such a way
that is compatible with this static perception in order to allegedly and erroneously
conform to that distorted understanding of God’s will.
Emerging from this crisis must not, however, be viewed purely and solely as a
theological task. Such a perception could not provide this task with enough force.
Nevertheless, the role of theology in addressing violent attitudes should not be
underestimated. From this theological perspective, religiously motivated violence
can be countered, if religions, in our case Islam, would be rendered capable of
tolerating other truths, in addition to their own, and freeing themselves from this
self-perceived victimhood. That would be a very important contribution toward
restoring to Islam, which is currently perceived as being inherently violent, its true
face as a religion of forgiveness and mercy, thereby resolving tensions of co-existence
and pluralism and making possible a more peaceful future.
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Civil Disobedience in Islamic Politico-Legal
Theory: A Challenging Balance between
Justice and Stability
Osman Taştan
Civil Disobedience in Islamic Politico-Legal Theory
John Rawls defines ‘civil disobedience’ as “a public, nonviolent, conscientious yet

political act contrary to law usually done with the aim of bringing about a change
in the law or policies of the government” .1
Looking at certain cases of resistance in administrative and legal contexts in early
Islam having the capacity of civil disobedience in line with the Rawlsian approach,
it is plausible to state that civil disobedience played a major role in the formation
and development of Islamic theo-political theory . One of the major watershed events
in the theo-political history of Islam was the transition of political power from the
Prophet Muhammad to Abū Bakr as the first Caliph to succeed him . Immediately
after the shocking news of the death of the Prophet, the leading figures among the
Companions of the Prophet gathered in the famous venue known as Banū Sāʿida’s
Saqīfa in Medina to hold talks about who should politically succeed the Prophet .
In due course, Abū Bakr who was cooperating with ʿAlī in the Prophet’s funeral
preparations, is reported to have joined ʿUmar Ibn al-Khaṭṭāb to go to Banū Sāʿiʿda’s
Saqifa in order to participate in the extraordinary meeting for political discussions .
The urgency of settling the problem of the power vacuum caused by the death of
the Prophet was given priority over the funeral arrangements that were, de facto,
assigned to ʿAlī .2 This marked an image of duality: some leading political figures
including ʿUmar and Abū Bakr were engaged in power politics while others, like ʿAlī,
had to deal with the more humanitarian duty of preparing the Prophet’s funeral . This
event initiated ʿAlī’s resistance against pledging allegiance to the caliphate of Abu
1 John Rawls, A Theory of Justice (Cambridge, Massachusetts: The Belknap Press of Harvard
University, 1971), 364 .
2 Al-Māwardī, al-Ḥāwī al-Kabīr, vol . 14 (Beirut: Dār al-Kutub al-ʿIlmiyya, 1994), 98-101 .
131
132 Osman Taştan
Bakr until after the death of Fatima,3 about six months after the latter assumed the
office of the caliphate. ʿAlī is also known for his outspoken opposition to ʿUthmān’s
rule.4 If ‘Alī’s attitude is taken as an example of civil disobedience, in line with the
Rawlsian definition of being a “public, non-violent, conscientious, and yet political
act to bring about change”, we may arguably claim that civil disobedience rests at
the origin of the Sunnī and Shīʿī theo-political division in Islam.
Thus, ‘Alī’s initial resistance to Abu Bakr’s power paved the way for the emergence
of Shi‘ism in Islam. Uniting religious and political authority in one and the same
person, the Imām, Shī‘ite theo-political doctrine in the making would take ‘Alī as
the first Imām and continue through his two sons Ḥasan and Ḥusain, respectively.
Subsequently, the hereditary lineage would proceed from them until the twelfth
Imam who disappeared thereby initiating the de facto beginning of the period of
Occultation which lasts indefinitely. On the other hand, Fāṭima, the daughter of
the Prophet, showed her disobedience by claiming her share of inheritance from
two pieces of land in the localities of Fadak and Khaybar left behind by her father
in contravention to a rule based upon a ḥadīth that prophets would not leave any
inheritance to the would-be heirs among their relatives.5
Another figure famous for his civil disobedience was Abū Dharr al-Ghiffārī
(d.32/652) who is known for his personal modesty, distancing himself from gov-
ernmental positions, and his advocacy for social policies in favour of the poor, to
the extent that his blunt criticism of public authorities for malpractice in financial
and social policies led the Caliph ʿUthmān to ask him to leave Syria where he was
already in exile and return to Medina. Subsequently, he lived in Rabadhah, a small
neighborhood at a short distance from Medina where he would spend the last two
years of his life and his voice of opposition would not have much effect on provoking
further public opinion being raised against the government.6 On the other hand,
Caliph ʿUthmān’s popularity was decreasing for a multiplicity of reasons and the
society was undergoing turmoil to the extent that reportedly no more than seven
3 Muhammad Nazeer Kaka Khel, “Succession to rule in early Islam”, Islamic Studies 24,
no. 1 (1985): 17.
4 Heather Keaney, “Confronting the Caliph: ʿUthmān b. ʿAffān in Three ʿAbbasid Chron-
icles”, Studia Islamica, 106, no. 1 (2011): 40.
5 See Ahmed Souaiaia, “On the Sources of Islamic Law and Practices”, Journal of Law and
Religion 20, no. 1 (2004-2005):137-140.
6 Saad A. Al-Rashid, “Lights on the History and Archaeology of al-Rabadhah (locally called
Abu Salim)”, Proceedings of the Seminar for Arabian Studies 9, (1979):90; Michael Cook,
Commanding Right and Forbidding Wrong in Islamic Thought, (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2000), 62.
Civil Disobedience in Islamic Politico-Legal Theory 133
people attended his funeral in Medina where no fewer than several thousand
Muslims lived at the time.7
Al-Ḥasan al-Baṣrī (d.110/728) was another leading proponent of civil disobedi-
ence. He is known for his opposition to armed rebellion as a method of forbidding
wrong (munkar)8 and for his civil outspokenness for human rights and against
certain administrative policies of the governor of Basra who wanted to keep recent
converts to Islam under surveillance.9 Also, the leading jurist of the ʿIrāqī School
of Law, Abū Ḥanīfa (d.150/767), is known for his civil disobedience against the
power of the Umayyad regime in resisting pressures upon him to assume an official
duty in the judiciary.10 Likewise, the leader of the Ḥanbalī School of Law, Aḥmad
Ibn Ḥanbal (d.241/855), famous for his literalism, resisted the pressure from the
rationalist regime of the Abbasid Caliph al-Ma’mūn (r. 198-218/813-833), which
demanded that he declare that the Qur’an was created.11 Both Abū Ḥanīfa12 and
Ibn Ḥanbal13 are known to have endured torture under these governments for their
civil and politically disobedient attitudes.
Bernard Lewis suggests that due to socio-political upheavals in early Islam, the
notion of civil disobedience, which had initially developed from the constitutional
context of the qualifications for the caliphate, evolved into an issue of practical
administration with regard to “whether” and “how” administrative policies were
just, regardless of who held the presidential office or if the accession to power was
through a legitimate process or not. In other words, the idea of legitimacy was
replaced by that of legality.14 Sunnī political theory would verify the legality of a
government through its de facto control of the power to maintain law and order
7 Ahmet Akbulut, “Ilk Devir Siyasi Olayların Müslüman Düşüncesine Etkileri”, İslami
Araştırmalar 5, (1991) no. 1:42-43.
8 Michael Cook, Commanding Right and Forbidding Wrong in Islamic Thought, 52.
9 Muḥammad Ibn Ismāʿil al-Bukhārī, al-Adab al-Mufrad: al-Jāmiʿ li al-Ādāb al-Nabawi-
yya, Dār Ibn Kathīr, Damascus & Beirut, 1428/2007, 943-944; Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya,
Tuḥfat al-Mawdūd bi Aḥkām al-Mawlūd, ed. ʿAbd al-Raḥmān al-Muṣṭāwī, (Beirut: Dār
al-Maʿrifa,, 1424/2003), 123-124.
10 Hiroyuki Yanagihashi, “Abu Hanifa (D.150/767)”, Islamic Legal Thought: A compendium
of Muslim jurists, ed. Oussama Arabi, David S. Powers & Susan Spectorsky, (Leiden &
Boston: Brill, 2013), 11.
11 Muḥammad Abū Zahra, Ibn Ḥanbal: Ḥayātuh wa ʿAṣruh, Ārā’uh wa Fiqhuh, (Cairo:
Dār al-Fikr al-ʿArabī, n.d.), 46-74.
12 Hiroyuki Yanagihashi, “Abu Hanifa (D.150/767)”, 11.
13 Muḥammad Abū Zahra, Ibn Ḥanbal, 46-74.
14 Bernard Lewis, “On the Quietist and Activist Traditions in Islamic Political Writing”,
in Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 49, no. 1, (1986): 141.
133
134 Osman Taştan
in the public and political spheres within its territorial jurisdiction. In time, the
Sunnīs, to put it in Fazlur Rahman’s words, “accentuated the idea of laissez faire
and an abstention from politics. Doctrines of submissiveness to de facto authority
were given tremendous weight”.15
Fazlur Rahman goes further to say that “the Sunnīs had, forever, become the
king’s party, almost any king”.16 A similar notion is observed by Bernard Lewis in
the following statements:
The hard lessons of a time of upheaval brought what was in effect a new principle—
that any authority, however acquired, was legally valid as long as it preserved a basic
minimum of legality, i.e., of respect for Islamic legal norms.17
The idealized concept of legitimacy with regard to accession to power was, in

practice, subordinated to the pragmatic nature of maintaining law and order. To
cite Fazlur Rahman’s words:
The ʿUlamā’ continued, on the one hand, to strenuously advocate absolute obedience
(and this was their concession to realism) and, on the other, to draw perfectionist
pictures of an ideal caliph (which was of course a statement of idealism).18
At some stage, two competing lines of interpretation in relation to civil disobe-

dience emerged in both Sunnī and Shīʿī Islamic political thought: “the quietist
and the activist traditions”, in Bernard Lewis’s words, with reference to Islamic
political theory in general,19 or “militancy and quietism” in Denis McEoin’s terms,
with specific reference to Shīʿī Islamic political theory.20 As indicated by Bernard
Lewis,21 both trends—the quietists and the activists—had valid textual arguments
for resorting to self-justification in literal terms. For example, the following three
Qur’an verses would support the position of the activists:
15 Fazlur Rahman, Islamic Methodology in History (Islamabad: Islamic Research Institute,

1984), 88-89.
16 Fazlur Rahman, Islamic Methodology in History, 88-89.
141.
18 Fazlur Rahman, Islamic Methodology in History, 94.
141-147.
20 Denis McEoin, “Aspects of militancy and quietism in Imami Shi’ism”, Bulletin of the
British Society for Middle Eastern Studies), 11, No.1 (1984), 18-27.
21 Bernard Lewis, “On the Quietist and Activist Traditions in Islamic Political Writing”.
In Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, 49, (No. 1), 141-147, 140, 145.
And keep thy soul content with those who call on their Lord morning and
evening, seeking His Face; and let not thine eyes pass beyond them, seeking
the pomp and glitter of this life; nor obey any whose heart We have permitted
to neglect the remembrance of Us, one who follows his own desires, whose case
has gone beyond all bounds. (Q 18: 28)
and
And follow not the bidding of those who are extravagant—who make mischief
in the land and mend not (their ways). (Q 26: 151-152)
In line with the above quoted Qur’an verses, the Prophet Muhammad is quoted
as saying:
“There should be no obedience to any human being in disobedience to God.”22

“The finest form of holy war (jihād) is speaking out (kalimat ḥaqq) in the
presence of an unjust ruler (sulṭān jā’ir)”.23
In line with the above quoted Qur’an verses and ḥadīths attributed to the Prophet
Muḥammad, the activist tradition is a systematically set pattern in both Sunnī and
Shīʿī political discourses, denying legitimacy of obedience to any human authority
in disobedience to God. Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya (d.751/1350) comments upon the
Qur’an 28:50 which reads:
But if they hearken not to thee, know that they only follow their own lusts: and who
is more astray than one who follow his own lusts, devoid of guidance from Allah.
For Allah guides not people given to wrong-doing,
and concludes that this verse divides the matter of obedience into two with no
third option: either to follow what God and His messenger introduce or to follow
[personal] desires; “anything which is not introduced by the Messenger must be
22 Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya, Iʿlām al-Muwaqqiʿīn ʿan Rabb al-ʿĀlamīn I, (Beirut: Dar
al-Jayl, 1973), 48; Josef van Ess, “Political Ideas in Early Islamic Religious Thought”, in
British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies 28, No. 2 (Nov., 2001), 158.
23 Abū Bakr al-Jaṣṣāṣ, Aḥkām al-Qur’ān I, edited by Muḥammad al-Ṣādiq Qamḥāwī,
(Beirut: Dār iḥyā al-Turāth al-ʿArabī), 1992, 328; Heather Keaney, “Confronting the
Caliph: ʿUthmān b. ʿAffān in Three ʿAbbasid Chronicles” in Studia Islamica 106, No. 1
(2011), 32.
135
136 Osman Taştan
based on personal desires”.24 Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya verifies the same dichoto-
my between the divinely originated and matters arising from desire through the
following three Qur’an verses cautioning the prophets David and Muḥammad
respectively against the attraction of the desires which could lead to disobedience
to the divine commands:25
O David! We did indeed make thee a vicegerent on earth: so judge thou be-
tween men in truth (and justice): Nor follow thou the lusts (of thy heart), for
they will mislead thee from the Path of Allah. For those who wander astray
from the Path of Allah, is a Penalty Grievous, for that they forget the Day of
Account. (Q 38:26)
Then We put thee on the (right) Way of Religion: so follow thou that (Way),
and follow not the desires of those who know not. (Q 45:18)
They will be of no use to thee in the sight of Allah. It is only Wrong-doers

(that stand as) protectors, one to another: but Allah is the Protector of the
Righteous. (Q 45:19)
With regard to obedience to public authority, Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya, in his

comment upon Qur’an 4:59 which reads:
O ye who believe! Obey Allah, and obey the Messenger, and those charged
with authority among you. If ye differ in anything among yourselves, refer it
to Allah and His Messenger, if ye do believe in Allah and the Last Day: That
is best, and most suitable for final determination,
underscores that the Qur’an instruction to obey public authority through its refer-
ence to “those in authority among you” does not warrant the obedience to public
authority if and when it is detached from obedience to the Prophet.26 Furthermore,
the Prophet articulated the following three principles:27
1. “There is no obedience to the created (human) in disobedience to (God) the creator”.
24 Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya, Iʿlām al-Muwaqqiʿīn 1, 47.

2. “The obedience is [legitimate] exclusive[ly] to the right [deeds or right policies]

(maʿrūf )”.
3. “Whoever [from the public authority] orders you to do wrong against God, there
shall be no heeding or obedience whatsoever [to such an order from such a public
authority] (fa lā samʿa wa lā taʿata)”.
In sum, Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya’s discourse and interpretation of obedience or

disobedience to public authority from the above quoted Qur’anic verses and ḥadīths
from the Prophet lead to the emergence of the following principle: obedience to
God and to the Prophet Muhammad is the sine qua non of legitimacy for obedience
to human authority.28
In Shi’ite Islam, al-Kulaynī (d.329/941) records in his Uṣūl Kāfī certain ḥadīths
attributed to the Prophet Muhammad which contrast the divine authority with that
of human beings and caution against obedience to human authority in violation
of divine authority. One such ḥadīth from the Prophet Muhammad, quoted by
al-Kulaynī through the narration of Abū Jaʿfar, reads:
Whoever seeks approval from people at the expense of God’s disapproval, his praise
from the people [eventually] will become deprecatory; and whoever prefers obedi-
ence to God at the expense of people’s displeasure, will find God sufficient for him
against the enmity of any enemy, jealousy of any jealous person, and the rebellion
of any rebel, and God –Almighty—becomes [sufficient as his] helper and assistant
(nāṣiran wa ẓahīran).29
A much more severe ḥadīth from the Prophet Muhammad recorded by al-Kulaynī
on the authority of Jābir Ibn ʿAbdallāh (al-Anṣārī) reads:
“Whoever obeys an authority at the displeasure of God departs from the

religion of God”.30
Al-Kulaynī also quotes the following statement from Abū Jaʿfar:
He who takes obedience to the human (authority) while disobeying God as [his]
religious position has no religion; he who attributes a worthless fabrication to God
28 Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya, Iʿlām al-Muwaqqiʿīn 1, 47-48.

29 Al-Kulaynī, Uṣūl al-Kāfī 4 with added Persian translation of Sayyid Jawad Mustafa
(Tehran: Intishārāt ʿIlmiyya Islāmiyya, n.d.), 79.
30 Al-Kulaynī, Uṣūl Kāfī 4, 80.
137
138 Osman Taştan
as [his] religious position has no religion; and he who takes denying anything from
the verses of God as [his] religious position has no religion.31
For the Quietists, the following qur’anic verse is a typical reference that explicitly
enjoins obedience to authority:
O ye who believe! Obey Allah, and obey the Messenger, and those charged
with authority among you. If ye differ in anything among yourselves, refer it
to Allah and His Messenger, if ye do believe in Allah and the Last Day: That
is best, and most suitable for final determination. (Q 4:59)
Also, Ibn Baṭṭa (d.387/997), a famous Ḥanbalite scholar of the 4th/10th century who
urged people to be quiescent at times of civil war (fitna) and not to take up arms
against rulers even if they are tyrants, quotes the following words of the Prophet
Muḥammad to Abū Dharr legitimizing the position of the Quietists: “Be patient,
even if he [the public authority] is an Ethiopian slave.”32
Ibn Baṭṭa also quotes the following words from ʿUmar Ibn al-Khaṭṭāb: “‘Be
patient’ if he [the public authority] oppresses you.”33
In this regard, al-Qurṭubī (d.671/1273), a prominent Mālikite scholar of the
7th/13th century, quotes the following statements from Sahl Ibn ʿAbdallāh al-Tustarī
(d.283/896), a leading scholar in Islamic mysticism:
If the public authority (al-sulṭān) bans a particular scholar (al-ʿālim) from issuing
fatwā(s), he shall not have the right/liberty to issue fatwā(s); if he does, then, he is
sinful/rebellious, even if the public authority [amīr] is tyrannical.34
With regard to the Shi’ite line of quietism, the following remarks narrated from
Mūsā Ibn Jaʿfar (d.183/799) provide a clear example, as quoted by Denis McEoin:
31 Al-Kulaynī, Uṣūl Kāfī, 4, 80.

32 Ibn Baṭṭa al-ʿUkbarī, al-Sharḥ wa al-Ibāna ʿalā Uṣūl al-Sunna wa al-Diyāna, ed. Ridā Ibn
Naʿsān Muʿṭī, (Medina & Damascus: Maktabat al-ʿUlūm wa al-Ḥikam & Dār al-ʿUlūm
wa al-Ḥikam, 2002), 305; Lewis, 141.
33 Ibn Baṭṭa al-ʿUkbarī, al-Sharḥ wa al-Ibāna ʿalā Uṣūl al-Sunna wa al-Diyāna, 305; Lewis,
141.
34 Al-Qurṭubī, Al-Jāmiʿ li Aḥkām al-Qur’ān 5, (Cairo: Dār al-Kutub al-Miṣriyya, 1937),
259.
Do not submit yourselves to the abandonment of obedience to your ruler (sulṭānikum);

if he be just, ask God to prolong his life, and, if he be tyrannical, ask God to reform
him. Your well-being lies in the well-being of your ruler…35
In fact, both the activists and the quietists emerge as divisions across the application
of the principle of al-amr bi al-maʿrūf wa al-nahy ʿan al-munkar (commanding
right and forbidding wrong), which theoretically originates from the following
qur’anic verse:
Ye are the best of peoples, evolved for mankind, enjoining what is right, forbidding
what is wrong, and believing in Allah. If only the People of the Book had faith, it
would have been best for them: among them are some who have faith, but most of
them are perverted transgressors.36
Abū Saīd al-Khudrī transmitted a ḥadīth:
I heard the Messenger of Allah (peace be upon him) saying: “Whoever [of you] sees
an evil thing (munkar) and is able change it with his hand must, then, change it with
his hand; if he is not able to do so, then [he must change it] with his tongue; and if he
is not able to do so, then [he must change it] with his heart, and that is the weakest
level [effect of] faith.”37
As manifested by the aforementioned ḥadīth of the Prophet, there is an underlying

moral duty encoded in the principle of acting against evil in one of three different
ways based upon one’s capacity to act: 1) by direct physical intervention, 2) by verbal
exhortation, or 3) by inner disapproval.
Among the three methods, the second confirms the policy of activists, while
the third confirms that of quietists, but the first method with the possible inclusion
of the use of force in physical terms, which extends the possibility of resorting to
violence as a method of correcting the wrong,38 is precociously marginalized and
deemed de facto applicable to neither the position of the activists nor that of the
quietists in the context of civil disobedience.
Putting the issue at hand in context, al-Jaṣṣāṣ (d.370/981), a leading Ḥanafite jurist
of the 4th/10th century, claims that at times of upheaval the prevalence of corruption
35 Denis McEoin, “Aspects of militancy and quietism in Imami Shi’ism”, 19 (Denis McEoin
cites from Hajj Muhammad Khan Kirmani, Al-Kitab al-Mubin 2, 2nd.ed. (Kirman, n.d.),
568).
36 Q 3:110.
37 Abū Bakr al-Jaṣṣāṣ, Aḥkām al-Qur’ān 4, 155.
139
140 Osman Taştan
makes resorting to the first and the second methods, i.e., direct physical or verbal
interventions—in commanding right and forbidding wrong—de facto ineffective
and the only remaining method becomes the third one, i.e., keeping consciousness
or inner disapproval against wrong (munkar).39 For al-Jaṣṣāṣ, at times of political
upheaval, this last resort in resisting against wrong (munkar) is justified on the basis
of two reasons: a) the need for self-protection (taqiyya) against dangers at times of
upheaval; b) the ineffectiveness of the preceding two methods in forbidding wrong
(munkar) at times of upheaval.40 This method of last resort in forbidding wrong by
inner disapproval is recognized and set in the Sunnī theo-political theory just as it
is interpreted by al-Jaṣṣāṣ, but it is comparatively more identified with Imāmī Shīʿī
theo-political theory through the principle of taqiyya, precautionary dissimulation.41
Taqiyya encodes endurance and survival at times of political disturbances. Thus,
“the finest form of jihad”, which was “to speak in criticism of an unjust ruler” as
quoted from the Prophet,42 is now turned into a silent disapproval for fear that
blunt verbal criticism of the evil (munkar) policies of the ruler could cause fitna
(anarchy or civil strife). Inner disapproval would be the only remaining method in
forbidding wrong (munkar). Here, the dilemma is between the moral duty encoded
in civil disobedience which has a great capacity to unfold through verbal criticism
of the governmental policies and the silence in order not to provoke fitna, which
de facto renders support to the perpetuation of the status quo. Thus, the change
that could come through civil disobedience to restore justice is in such a situation
replaced by a prevailing inertia.
To see the codes of interaction and transitions among the above-mentioned three
methods through a Rawlsian lens, his following remarks about “civil disobedience”
should suffice: “To engage in violent acts likely to injure and to hurt is incompatible
with civil disobedience as a mode of address...”.43
To avoid or minimize the harm that could erupt from civil strife or fitna, jurists
adopted and justified the principle of quiescence with reference to some ḥadīths
attributed to the Prophet, as well as juristic opinions. For example, al-Sarakhsī
(d.490/1090), a prominent Ḥanafite jurist of the 5th/11th century, quotes the following
two statements attributed to the Prophet Muhammed:

41 For taqiyya in Shīʿa’s theory see Etan Kohlberg, “Some Imāmī-shīʿī Views on Taqiyya”,
Journal of the American Oriental Society 95, no. 3 (1975): 395-402.
43 John Rawls, A Theory of Justice, 366.
“Fitna (civil strife) is asleep. May God curse whoever wakens it.”44
“Whoever escapes from fitna, may God save him from Hell.”45
Al-Sarakhsī, based upon the authority of Abū Ḥanīfa, underscores the urgency
that, when fitna appears among the Muslims, it is everyone’s duty to stay indoors
and not to involve themselves in the conflict.46 Al-Sarakhsī’s condemnation of fitna
and caution to people against involvement in fitna encode the prioritization of the
de facto existing law and order over the idea of civil disobedience to the public
authority who could ensure social stability, regardless of whether he is a just or an
unjust ruler. Putting this relativistic and utilitarian notion of law before the idealized
principle of justice that could provoke civil disobedience in the public context and
consequently stimulate violence or fitna, this political theory is developed to the
extent that civil disobedience in major practical issues of the public sphere across
religion, law, and politics is declared to be somehow illegitimate. In this regard,
Sahl Ibn ʿAbdallāh al-Tustarī urges people to obey the authority (al-sulṭān) in the
following seven areas: 47
1. production of dirhams and dinars,

2. regulation of weights and measures,
3. the legal rulings (al-aḥkām),
4. the pilgrimage,
5. prayers of Friday,
6. prayers of the two Festivals [al-fiṭr and al-aḍḥa],
7. jihād.
Likewise, Ibn Baṭṭa disentangles the legitimacy of religious practices and civic duties
of individual citizens from the legitimacy or justice of the ruling public authority,
and claims that all the ʿulamā from the outset of Islam up until his own era, i.e. the
4th/10th century, unanimously agreed that the following practices are valid under
any ruler, just or unjust:48
44 Al-Sarakhsī, al-Mabsūṭ 10 (Cairo: Maṭbaʿat al-Saʿāda, 1324 A.H.), 124.

45 Al-Sarakhsī, al-Mabsūṭ 10, 124.
46 Al-Sarakhsī, al-Mabsūṭ 10, 124.
47 Al-Qurṭubī, Al-Jāmiʿ li Aḥkām al-Qur’ān 5, 259.
48 Ibn Baṭṭa al-ʿUkbarī, al-Sharḥ wa al-Ibāna, 305-307; B. Lewis, “On the Quietist and
Activist Traditions”, 142-143.
141
142 Osman Taştan
1. Performing the prayers of Friday (al-jumʿa), and the two festivals [al-fiṭr and
al-aḍhā],
2. [the ceremonies of] Minā and of ʿArafāt,
3. warfare against the infidels (al-ghazw wa al-jihād),
4. the sacrifices (al-hady),
5. Paying land tax, legal alms, and the tithe (al-kharāj, al-ṣādaqāt, al-aʿshār).
6. Praying in the great mosques built by the [just or unjust] rulers.
7. Walking on bridges constructed by the [just or unjust] rulers.
8. Buying and selling, and other matters of trade, agriculture and crafts in the
domain of the [just or unjust] rulers.
9. Resorting to jurisdiction of judges under the [just or unjust] rulers.
10. Honouring the rulings of fixed penalties (al-ḥudūd) and law of retaliation
(al-qiṣāṣ)
11. Seeking legal redress from the governors (umarā) or police officers (shuraṭ).
12. Obeying any authority appointed by the ruler—even if he is an Abyssinian
slave—as long as it is not in disobedience to God, as there is no obedience to
creatures in such a situation.
Also as interpreted by Bernard Lewis, Ibn Baṭṭa particularly emphasizes that the
oppression of the oppressor and the tyranny of the tyrant would not harm people
who perform their religious and civic duties and would not invalidate their duly
performed acts.49
In comparison to the above quoted remarks of Ibn Baṭṭa, who underscores the
significance of religious practices and civic duties by the individual and downplays
the justice of the public authority in his rule, Ibn Taymiyya (d.728/1328), the prom-
inent Ḥanbalī jurist of the 8th/14th century, goes beyond downplaying the justice of
the public authority in his ruling. He directly emphasizes the indispensability of
the authority of the ruler, regardless of his being just or unjust, while he sees the
presence of the public authority as a prerequisite for the performance of certain
essential religious practices in public contexts, and upholds the rule of law and
social stability in the following remarks with a thoroughly utilitarian perspective:
Necessary practices like the conduct of holy war, administration of justice, practices
of pilgrimage, [prayers of] Fridays and the Festivals (al-aʿyād), helping the oppressed,
and upholding the implementation of fixed penalties cannot be complete without the
presence of power and [administrative] authority; and that is why it is said “the sultan
49 Ibn Baṭṭa al-ʿUkbarī, al-Sharḥ wa al-Ibāna, 305-307; B. Lewis, “On the Quietist and
Activist Traditions”, 142-143.
(the public authority) is the shadow of God on earth” and “sixty years under an unjust
ruler is more suitable than a single night without any authority.”50
In Ibn Taymiyya’s words, too much was at stake to resort to civil disobedience;
while moral liberty, which could form the basis of the right to civilly disobey the
law,51 is turned adversely into a moral duty to obey the law and authority in order
to maintain utilitarian ends through the prevalence of law and order. Now, the vital
link between morals and politics through civil disobedience which could allow the
individual to civilly or politically disobey authority in order to bring about change
in favour of justice is rendered defunct. The reason behind this shift in priorities
from upholding the principle of justice to the convenience of maintaining law and
order at the expense of the moral liberty to civilly disobey authority is the perceived
difficulty in safeguarding the civility of disobedience against its potential involve-
ment in violence that could pose a threat to socio-political stability. In principle,
civil disobedience is deprived of its civility when it becomes involved in violence
since then it turns itself into a threat. Civil disobedience and threat are essentially
incompatible as manifested through the following remarks of John Rawls: “Yet civil
disobedience is giving voice to conscientious and deeply held convictions; while it
may warn and admonish, it is not itself a threat.”52
In theory, civil disobedience in Islamic political thought represents an essen-
tial notion of high moral values in terms of upholding the human right to resist
wrong through peaceful means as encoded in the principle of al-amr bi al-ma‘rūf
wa al-nahy ‘an al-munkar (commanding right and forbidding wrong). In prac-
tice, it remains either unbalanced by the risk of its entailing violence or muted in
order to avoid potential involvement in and consequences of violence. Thus, the
dilemma of civil disobedience arises from its vulnerability to violence in applied
contexts which could allow a transition from peaceful means to violent means in
resisting wrong. This occurs due to two reasons: 1) the violence-inclusive53 capacity
of direct physical intervention as the prime method of resisting wrong, and 2) the
sedition-inclusive capacity of verbal intervention that could potentially result in
violence as the second and moderate method of resisting wrong. Hence, the civility
of disobedience through the first two methods in resisting wrong appears somehow
vulnerable in practical contexts; while inner disapproval, which is the third and
50 Ibn Taymiyya, al-Siyāsa al-Sharʿiyya (Cairo: Dār al-Kitāb al-ʿArabī, 1955), 161-162.
51 J. Angelo Corlett, “What is civil disobedience?” in Philosophical Papers 26 no. 3 (1997):
244.
52 John Rawls, A Theory of Justice, 366.
53 Abū Bakr al-Jaṣṣāṣ, Aḥkām al-Qur’ān 2, 317 & vol. 5, 280.
143
144 Osman Taştan
totally violence-free method in resisting wrong, lacks the necessary public nature
of civil disobedience. Consequently, it remains limited in capacity to bring about
the desired change in law or public policies. Furthermore, inner disapproval, also
referred to as taqiyya or precautionary dissimulation, is designated as being the
weakest method in resisting wrong with a dual pragmatic purpose: a) maintaining
the inner conscientiousness against wrong, and b) providing self-protection against
harm which could arise from a prevailing state of turmoil (fitna).
Self-protection through taqiyya is given tremendous emphasis to the extent that
one may hide or stop manifesting his faith in God or Islam in order to save his life
at times of serious hardship. This, as interpreted by al-Jaṣṣāṣ54 with reference to Q
16:106, allows for a verbal expression of disbelief in God in Islam under duress as
long as one’s heart remains full of faith. Taqiyya or precautionary dissimulation,
which includes the right to conceal opposition to the public authority or law as jus-
tified on the basis of self-protection, denotes a de facto disengagement with the act
of civil disobedience while moral liberty as the right to publicly express opposition
to the public authority or law in order to bring about change and reform, signifies
direct engagement with civil disobedience as long as it excludes violence. Thus, the
complexity of civil disobedience in Islamic political thought rests in the interpre-
tation of the means and the limits of the freedom of expression in practical terms
and its vulnerability to violence. Freedom of expression through peaceful means in
relation to civil disobedience is the key test in proving its viability and balance in
precluding violence, which is incompatible with civil disobedience. Precautionary
dissimulation (taqiyya), however, falls outside the context of civil disobedience as
it is not a public mode of expression in resisting wrong. Thus, the right to remain
silent at times of hardship and civil strife for purposes of self-protection or in or-
der to not provoke fitna is in tension with the moral duty to express opposition to
governmental authority and unjust public policies in order to restore justice and
honour the principle of commanding right (ma‘rūf) and forbidding wrong (munkar).
Thus civil disobedience in Islamic political thought poses a challenge of how to
strike a balance in upholding idealized justice while ensuring practical stability.

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Muslim Theologians of Nonviolence
Marcia Hermansen
The purpose of this paper is to provide a broad introduction to representative re-

cent and contemporary Muslim theologians who have offered Islamic positions on
nonviolence . The theme of this volume, religion and violence, suggests that at the
outset of our reflections we should reference the current scholarly debate on the role
of religion as either a source of or a solution to the violence that plagues our world .
On the one hand, we are living in a time of global religious revival, marked by a
proliferation of religiously inspired social and revitalization movements . Islam, a
personal commitment and/or research focus of many of our conference participants,
is often singled out as the religion most characterized by support for terrorism and
egregious belligerence . At the same time, the number of Muslim activists, academics,
or theologians working on issues of peace, conflict resolution, and nonviolence in
terms of positive Islamic contributions has never been greater .
In this chapter, I plan to frame my discussion of Muslim theologians of non-
violence by addressing the following questions . After a brief initial indication of
perspectives in the current scholarly debate over religion and violence, I will indicate
some possible registers of the term “nonviolence” . I will then provide representative
examples of some recent/contemporary Muslim theologians of nonviolence, first
indicating the contexts in which this theologizing is occurring and then some of
the challenges that it faces as well as the promises that it holds .
Is religion the cause of, or one of the solutions to violence? There are advocates
of each position today as well as attempts to reconcile the paradox that each under-
standing may hold some validity . This mirrors the debate over the respective weight
of ideas and ideology in human motivation versus material factors such as economic
and historical developments . James Cavanaugh, in his book, The Myth of Religious
Violence, refers to the very definition of religion as being skewed by contemporary
perceptions that mask the nature of religion and conflate it with modern ideologies
that may inspire equal, if not greater, violence . (Cavanaugh, 2009) . In other words,
it is not the unique emotional appeal or otherworldly agendas of religion that are
147
148 Marcia Hermansen
the sources of violence, but rather the way that some humans process worldviews
or existential commitments, including both theologies and ideologies.
University of California Economist Alan Richards speaks of certain types of
“thinking” that can lead to violent posturing and enumerates some features of a
“violent mind set” that include: seeing good and evil as a binary opposition, ignoring
history, being unable to cope with paradox, and assuming that there is always a
solution (Richards, 2004). By the way, Richards’ criticism of fixating on finding a
solution is that this can defer attempts to mitigate existing violence in anticipation
of an ideal comprehensive solution.
The Oxford bibliography on “Islam and Non-Violence” introduces the topic as
follows:
Nonviolence is the principled and strategic abstention from violence to bring about
political or social change. The concept is most commonly associated with Mohandas K.
Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., Leo Tolstoy, and other non-Muslim figures. Muslim
activists, scholars, and leaders are seldom, if ever, counted among these venerable
modern saints. However, Muslim nonviolence is a growing and influential phenom-
enon on a global scale. Although rooted in Islam’s sacred texts, especially the Qur’an,
the historical genesis of the concept coincides with its development elsewhere in the
early 20th century. Proponents of nonviolence are found within the Sunni, Shi’a, and
various mystical and heterodox branches of Islam. Muslim nonviolence also exists in
both religious and pragmatic nationalist forms (Halverson, 2013).
In fact “nonviolence” itself is a multivalent and internally paradoxical term that

may be understood along a continuum. Some advocates may consider that strate-
gic or principled limitations of violence qualify as non-violent interventions (just
war, limited engagement, defensive war only), while others may embrace full-scale
pacifism in all contexts. Even pacifism can be further parsed as vocational (that
adopted by specific religious communities) or universal. Since peace is a corollary
of nonviolence, it is also subject to qualitative variations: for example, peace studies
scholars have formulated concepts of negative peace, positive peace, etc.
Islam and Nonviolence
At the present time, Islam is often singled out as the most violent faith and the name
of the religion is regularly coupled with terrorism in the media and the popular
imagination. The founding exemplar of the most recent of the major world faiths
to emerge in history, Muhammad the Prophet of Islam, was a successful political
leader during his lifetime and engaged in armed struggle as well as enforced order
Muslim Theologians of Nonviolence 149
within his community. Islam was carried by Arab conquests through rapid mili-
tary expansion to become a religion of empire beginning in the 7th century. While
Islamization was a complex and gradual process rather than being instantly perpe-
trated by the sword, it has no doubt left historical memories of military conquest,
domination, and local resistance among Middle Eastern and Balkan Christians,
Indian Hindus, and others.
While much of the Western world has embraced secularism and democracy at
the level of the nation state, the legacy of colonialism, lack of economic and po-
litical development, and many other factors have resulted in a number of Muslim
majority societies adopting Islamic religious teachings to drive state policy and,
in some cases, to provide the framework or even the constitution for the opera-
tion of the political order. This conflation of Islam and politics is contested at two
ends, firstly, by the claim that no “state” in the modern world would ever be moral
enough to faithfully implement the spirit of shari‘a to the letter (Hallaq, 2012); and
secondly, by Islamophobic anxieties that posit that Muslim citizens could never be
faithful and democratic participants within a secular political order. In addition
to the global phenomenon of Islamic revival since the 1970s, more recent decades
have seen certain governments coercively implementing Islamic law, as well as the
rise of militant and extremist movements culminating in groups such as ISIS that
perpetrate terrorist attacks and brutally commit atrocities in Iraq and Syria in the
name of religion. All this adds to the impression that Islam is, by nature, violent.
Therefore one purpose of this brief overview is to alert scholars and theologians
to the existence of recent Muslim theologizing about nonviolence.
Muslim Theologians of Nonviolence
Palestinian American pioneer in Islamic peace building and nonviolence, Mo-

hammed Abu-Nimer, has classified the existing literature on peace studies and
Islam into three major categories: studies of Jihad, studies of just war, and studies
of nonviolence. In studies of Jihad, Islam is presented as a violent religion and its
potential for peacebuilding is overlooked. In the just war studies, scholars see Islam
from a strategic standpoint as a mixture of both violent and pacifist aspects, either
of which might be used under certain conditions. The third category is comprised
of scholars such as Abu Nimer himself who highlight the study of nonviolent
principles as core values in Islam with violence being a deviation. Unfortunately,
these scholars have been silenced as a result of their challenge to the mainstream
discourse, both inside and outside Muslim communities (Soliman, n.d.).
149
I will now offer some representative examples of contemporary Muslim theo-

logians and their theologies of nonviolence that would fall into the third category
of writings described above by Abu-Nimer. Let me point out that the category
“Muslim theologian” is itself open to contestation and lack of precision. It is clear
that in terms of articulating beliefs about the cosmos, theological anthropology,
and the moral order, theological thinking has been central to Islam throughout its
history. The more formal schools of medieval religious thought such as the Sunni
‘Asharites or Mu‘tazilites focused on problems that may seem arcane to contemporary
individuals. Undoubtedly, Muslim theology in a broader sense exists today and has
even been revived by both conservative and liberal Muslim thinkers.
With the coming of modernity broad existential and societal questions have
come to fore and are addressed publicly, primarily by the traditional scholars (ul-
ama) trained in Islamic seminaries (madrasas), but now by Muslim intellectuals
from a range of backgrounds who are often more widely known and influential
than traditional scholars. In this regard I need only cite pioneers of Islamic revival
such as ʿAli Shari‘ati (d. 1978) or Abu al-‘Ala Mawdudi (d. 1979).
Therefore we observe much current Muslim theologizing in the writings of ac-
tivists, literary figures, and academics. In fact, the shifting institutional context of
professing Islamic authority has had a dramatic effect on the expansion and global
networking of activists and scholars whose works address a range of issues from
within the tradition. The authority of holding an academic degree and position
within a university system has increasingly allowed Muslim scholars from a range
of backgrounds and formations to present ideas that challenge certain classical
perspectives. For example, the Turkish educational system features traditional
Islamic education based on the imamhatip model1 at the initial stages, followed by
university level courses in Islamic studies that include historical critical method-
ologies. New theological initiatives in Europe, specifically Germany and Austria,
support the creation of academic positions on a par with the those accorded to
Christian theology faculties within the German academic system. In some Muslim
majority societies, the emergence of religious teachers and preachers, whether with
the support of governments or as a broad social trend,2 has opened up new spaces
1 These were secondary schools geared to training imams that replaced the madrasa system in
the Turkish Republic. Graduates now often go on to pursue university degrees in Theology.
2 Margaret Rausch, “Women Mosque Preachers and Spiritual Guides: Publicizing and
Negotiating Women’s Religious Authority in Morocco” in H. Kalmbach and M. Bano
(eds.) Women, Leadership and Mosques. (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 2001), 59-84; Mona Hassan,
“Reshaping Religious Authority in Contemporary Turkey: State-Sponsored Female
Preachers” in H. Kalmbach and M. Bano (eds.) Women, Leadership and Mosques (Leiden:
E. J. Brill, 2011), 85-104.
for issues of social pluralism, women’s rights, religious practice, and dignity to be
discussed and challenged from within the Islamic tradition.3
The academic disciplinary location of Muslim scholars writing on religious topics
is less easily defined as being “theological” since a secular academic formation in
religious studies, area studies, or the social sciences implies a constructivist and
critical attitude to sources which may either bracket the “faith” question or assume
that it is socially or historically constructed. Liberal and progressive Muslims
scholars may not present their work as “theological” in a uniquely privileged or
normative sense, and yet may find it engaging and informing issues that are crit-
ical to theological projects and concerns within contemporary Islamic thought.
In summary, the scope and definition of who is a Muslim theologian is far from
clear and determined.
In selecting the representatives below as Muslim theologians of nonviolence I
am neither applying measures of authoritativeness nor credentials—in part due
to the nature of Islam not having an official body (church) or doctrinal arbiter
(Pope). I rather intend to illustrate the varied social, cultural, theological, and
historical positions of those who have become known as Muslim proponents of
nonviolence. The increasing numbers of Muslims who advocate nonviolence bears
witness to the contemporary relevance of this topic, both within Muslim circles
and in broader nonviolent advocacy and interfaith contexts. Emerging out of and
responding to the needs of our time, are those who advance these positions inno-
vative and somewhat ironically performing interpretive “violence” to the classical
tradition? Who is a theologian, who is an activist, and to what extent can the two
be separated? I will not claim to be comprehensive in my selection, but perhaps
aspire to be simultaneously representative and diverse, introducing my examples
in roughly chronological order.
Khan Abdul Ghaffar “Badshah” Khan d. 1988

Under British colonial rule Khan was first an Indian Muslim, then, after Partition
in 1947, a Pakistani. He was part of Gandhi’s movement for Indian self-rule and
was most active at the time of the Indian independence movement. Abdul Ghaffar
Khan led a movement of peaceful civil disobedience, was imprisoned by the British,
and saw his followers, called Khudai Khidmatgars (servants of God) killed even as
they faced armed British soldiers unarmed and nonviolently. This movement was
initially founded to enjoin social and economic uplift among the Pathans. It then
became a formal ally of the Congress Party and Gandhi. Due to his activities, the
3 Some of this leadership in the Arab world is depicted in the 2009 documentary film
Veiled Voices, directed by Brigid Maher.
151
British exiled Khan in 1934. Later the Pakistan state imprisoned him for supporting
Pashtun nationalism and he lived in quasi exile in Afghanistan during much of
the 1960s up to the 1980s.
In terms of his ideas, while primarily an activist, Khan saw nonviolence as
an Islamic approach that was resonant with the satyagraha ideals of Mahatma
Gandhi. He tried to demonstrate that the greatest figures in Islamic history were
known more for their forbearance and self-restraint than their fierceness (Pal, 102).
He advocated a peaceful and tolerant approach to interpreting Islam, advocating
patience as a primary virtue and the conviction that Islam is based on selfless
service, faith, and love.
Mahmoud Mohammed Taha d. 1985

Taha was a traditional Sudanese religious scholar who was executed by the military
dictator Gafaar Nimeiri in 1985 on the basis that he had apostatized. In his native
Sudan Taha initiated a socio-religious movement, the Sudanese Republican Brothers.
His ideas have been publicized through translation and continued by his students,
including Sudanese-American Muslim scholar Abdullah Na’im.
In his major work The Second Message of Islam, Taha puts forward his main thesis
regarding how Islam should be interpreted in a more flexible and compassionate
way. According to Taha, the Qur’an contained two messages revealed respectively
during the Prophet’s career in Mecca (610-622) and Medina (622-632). Islamic
jurists developed a principle of abrogation (naskh) which prioritized the authority
of later (Medinan) verses over earlier Meccan ones. In fact, the Medinan verses
contain many more specific injunctions since the role of the Prophet there was as
political leader and arbiter of disputes as well as religious guide. Taha, however,
places emphasis on the more universal Meccan messages. He held that the shariʿa
in its ideal form should be able “to evolve, assimilate the capabilities of individual
and society, and guide such life up the ladder of continuous development”. In fact,
it is the Meccan verses that should form the “basis of the legislation” for modern
society (Taha, 1987, 39-40f). (as cited in Lichtenthäler, 2013) This response follows
the Muslim modernist tactic of promoting the spirit of Islam over literal and
specific rules in order to provide a framework for religious freedom, social justice
and gender and economic equality. Taha also had extensive background in Sufism
which may have formed some of the background to his promotion of nonviolence.
In terms of nonviolence specifically, Taha invoked the example of Muhammad
at Mecca where his technique was persuasion. He observed that the warfare of later
periods was expedient for that time, but in the present era jihad by taking up arms
should be replaced by persuasion alone (Thomas, 151).
Wahiduddin Khan of New Delhi India

Wahiduddin Khan is a traditionally trained Muslim scholar who for a time was
associated with the Islamist Jamaat-i Islami movement, but later forged his own,
more liberal, interpretations of Islamic thought. He is a prolific writer and oper-
ates a small intellectual center, al-Risala, in New Delhi, India. Wahiduddin Khan
advocates nonviolence as an Islamic value. Central to his project is a reevaluation
of jihad and the whole system of political Islam or the caliphate (khilafa).
In fact Wahiduddin Khan argues that all of the greatest successes of Islam were
achieved by nonviolent methods. His primary example is the Prophet’s life. Wahi-
duddin Khan states that of the 23-year period of his prophethood, during the initial
13 years, when Muhammad was in Mecca, the Prophet adopted nonviolence (Khan,
1999, 79). When the Meccans became threatening and belligerent against him and
his followers, the Prophet chose to immigrate to Medina, which Khan considers
to be a form of nonviolent activism. Only when the Meccans unilaterally waged
war against Muhammad, the battles of Badr and Uhud took place. Khan points
out how the Prophet made a 10-year treaty called the “Peace of al-Hudaybiyah”,
accepting all the conditions of his opponents. This peace treaty paved the way for
peaceful, constructive activities. Therefore, it is possible to say that the Prophet had
actively engaged in war for a total of a day and a half during his entire career, and
otherwise observed the principle of nonviolence throughout his 23-year prophetic
mission (Khan, 1999, 81).
Khan further distinguished between jihad and qital. Unlike active warfare
(qital), he portrays jihad as a psychospiritual phenomenon involving continuous
effort by individuals to act in concert with qur’anic values of justice, compassion,
restraint, and the quest for peace and ‘reconciliation as best’ (Q 128: 4). For Khan
(2000, 2001, 2002, 2003), the purpose of jihad is therefore the endeavor to attain
and establish salam, namely peace (Seedat 835-6). Revisioning jihad, Khan states
that it consists of nonviolent activism. He invokes the Qur’anic verse “perform
jihad with this (i.e. the word of the Quran) most strenuously” (Q 25:52) in order
to support this view. Because the Quran is not a sword or a gun, but rather a book
of ideology, Khan concludes based on this injunction that performing jihad could
only mean an ideological struggle to conquer peoples’ hearts and minds through
Islam’s superior philosophy4 (Kadayifci, 47)
Khan’s discussion of normalcy (Khan, 2002) in particular, is intriguing since this
theological concept in Islam is fundamental to developing a Muslim theology of
4 Maulana Wahiduddin Khan, “Non-Violence and Islam”, paper prepared for the Sym-
posium: Islam and Peace in the 21st Century, Washington D.C. (February 6-7, 1998), 1;
cited in Kadayifci, 2003, 47.
153
reconciliation. The Islamic model of peace and goodness is founded upon the idea of
“normalcy”. Furthermore, Arabic/Islamic vocabulary and Islamic theological concepts
of “normalcy” are imbedded in classical Muslim discussions about processes such as
the customary way of God (sunnat Allah) (Q 17:77, 33:62, 48:23) (Hermansen, 2011).
A further intriguing feature of Khan’s analysis is his critique of contemporary
Muslims as not engaging in self-control and self-critique. Even some Gandhian
methods such as civil disobedience are criticized by Khan, since, according to
Khan’s analysis, after the Partition communal violence continued because the
Muslim and Hindu individuals who had been involved in these Gandhian protests
became unruly since they did not achieve the personal transformation necessary
to maintaining a nonviolent stance.
Chaiwat Satha-Anand (Qader Muheideen) of Thailand

Satha Anand is an academic, a political scientist who, on the basis of observing
practices of conflict resolution among Thai Muslims, developed an Islamic theory
of nonviolence. Like Wahiduddin Khan and others, he refocuses jihad away from
traditional militant interpretations concluding that jihad means to stand up to
oppression, despotism, and injustice (whenever it is committed) and on behalf
of the oppressed (whoever they may be). In its most general meaning, jihad is an
effort, a striving for justice and truth that need not be violent (Satha-Anand, 1993).
Perhaps Satha-Ananda’s most well-known contribution to a theory of Islamic
nonviolence is his eight theses on Muslim Nonviolent Actions. These are:
1. For Islam, the problem of violence is an integral part of the Islamic moral sphere.
2. Violence, if any, used by Muslims must be governed by rules prescribed in the
Qur‘an and Hadith.
3. If [the] violence used cannot discriminate between combatants and noncom-
batants, then it is unacceptable in Islam.
4. Modern technology of destruction renders discrimination virtually impossible
at present.
5. In the modern world, Muslims cannot use violence.
6. Islam teaches Muslims to fight for justice with the understanding that human
lives—as all parts of God’s creation—are purposive and sacred.
7. In order to be true to Islam, Muslims must utilize nonviolent action as a new
mode of struggle.
8. Islam itself is fertile soil for nonviolence because of its potential for disobedience,
strong discipline, sharing and social responsibility, perseverance and self-sac-
rifice, and the belief in the unity of the Muslim community and the oneness of
mankind (Satha-Anand, 1993, 23).
It is clear from these principles, especially number five, that Satha-Anand holds
nonviolence to be the only true option for Muslims today.
Jawdat Said
Said is a Syrian Muslim scholar and one of the most prolific Muslim writers on
nonviolence. However, most of his works are in Arabic and have not yet been
translated. He was born in 1931 and graduated from Egypt’s al-Azhar University
in 1957. Jawdat Said adopted the doctrine of nonviolence in the 1960s and has been
arrested repeatedly in Syria because of his intellectual and religious positions.
In the early 2000s, Said worked with a group of young people in Daraya, near
Damascus, to create a civil society movement that focused solely upon the city’s
affairs, including, among others, issues of culture and sanitation. However, the re-
gime was not tolerant of this move and arrested seven of the activists and sentenced
them each to five years in prison. In 2005, Said co-signed the renowned “Damascus
Declaration,” which became the major umbrella of the Syrian opposition until the
revolution in March 2011 (Humeid, 2009).
The Doctrine of the First Son of Adam or The Problem of Violence in the Is-
lamic Action is Said’s most prominent book, written after his first arrest in 1966.
Said subsequently authored more than twelve books dedicated to the doctrine of
nonviolence and the reconsideration of the Qur’anic text from the perspective of
nonviolence (Humeid, 2009).
Said sees his approach as grounded in the Qur’anic creation stories. In Sura 5,
verses 27–31, one can read how the “God-fearing Abel” declined to defend himself
against his brother, although in the end, Cain murdered him. Said sees this as a
call to react “like Adam’s firstborn son, who did not defend himself against the
attacks of his brother”. The nonviolence exhibited by Adam’s son represents, in
Said’s view, “a position to be aspired to by all mankind, and adhering to it is one
of God’s commandments” (Humeid, 2009). In addition, Said refers to the stories
of the various other prophets in the Qur’an. None of them attempted to spread his
ideas by means of violence which Said sees as a clear indication that violence is
incompatible with the core faith of the Qur’an.
In his 1988 book Read! For The Lord Your God is Benevolent, Said supports his
view of an Islam free of violence by developing an approach to the interpretation
of the Qur’an which would focus on finding pragmatic solutions to real world
challenges rather than getting bogged down in interpretive disagreement and
controversy. This is also associated with his call to Muslims to learn from history
and not to simply resort to literal interpretations without a context (Nafisah, 1996,
27-29). Even among the Companions of the Prophet such as ‘Ali, one finds examples
of such a positive solution-driven response to disagreement and conflicts opposed
155
to engaging in doctrinal disputes or resorting to violence. Said concludes from this

that the Qur’an challenges people to search for truth in the real world and not in
the texts of the Qur’an. Since the call to “wander the earth” is repeated 13 times in
the Qur’an, Said concludes that this is a part of the divine revelation: to search for
knowledge about the world, its history and its societies. Therein lies for him the
“profound meaning and wonder of the Qur’an” (Bashar Humeid, 2009).
Based on the Adam story, Said posits a fundamental conflict between science
and violence. In Sura 2, verses 30-33, the angels protest God’s decision to put a
human representative on earth since humans will do nothing but create trouble
and spill blood. In response, God teaches Adam “all things and their names.” Said
understands this passage symbolizing the contrast between science or a rational
approach and violence by drawing out the language of the qur’anic verses. Thus
this reflects the opposition between “naming names” and “creating trouble and
spilling blood” (Bashar Humeid, 2009).
Said does, however, allow some recourse to violence in limited situations as
implied in the case of the following qur’anic passage:
If two parties among the believers fall into a quarrel, make ye peace between them; but
if one of them transgresses beyond bounds against the other, then fight ye against the
one that transgresses until it complies with the command of God; but if it complies,
then make peace between them with justice, and be fair: for God loves those who are
fair and just (49:9). (Said, n. d.)
This addresses the situation of what to do in the case of violent threats from groups
such as ISIS, who resemble the violent secessionist movements that appeared early
in Islamic history such as the Khaijites.
Mohammed Nimer, United States

Palestinian American academic and peace-building activist Mohammed Nimer
is a prolific writer on the topic of Islam and nonviolence. In his book, he develops
more a theological and a pragmatic approach to Muslim peace making that is a
standard in the field.
To understand the compatibility of Islamic values and beliefs with nonviolence we

have first to dispel the myth that nonviolence is a form of surrender in which the
victim waits to be slaughtered and accepts such a fate. This misperception has been
mistakenly associated with peace work and peace groups. Khalid Kishtainy, Khalis
Jalabi, Jawdat Said, and Imam Muhammad al-Shirazi (pioneers of nonviolence in the
Arab world) have coined the term “civic jihad” in order to avoid using the neologism
lā ʿunf (literally, no-violence), which has this negative connotation of surrender and
passivity in Arabic (Abu Nimer, 2004).
He asserts the complete compatibility between such methods of nonviolence and

Islamic values and beliefs. These instruct the faithful to resist injustice and oppression,
to pursue justice and sabr (patience), to protect the sacredness of human dignity,
and to be willing to sacrifice their lives for this cause. To fulfill and follow such
values, the Islamic approach to nonviolence can only be based on active rejection of
and resistance to zulm (aggression) and injustice. If we accept the assumption and
belief that Islam emphasizes resistance and pursuit of justice, then the real question
becomes: can nonviolence be an effective tool for resistance? (Abu-Nimer, 2004)
Abu-Nimer invokes many episodes in Islamic history that illustrate the use of
nonviolent methods and, like Wahiduddin Khan, he reminds us of Muhammad’s
thirteen years of nonviolent struggle and resistance during the Meccan period
when not a single violent act or expression was used or legitimized by the Prophet
or his early followers, despite severe persecution. Yet at this epoch Muslims were
not merely passive but rather they preached their message and faith and confronted
nonbelievers on a daily basis.
Abu Nimer observes that those who reject the Islamic nonviolent approach often
argue that later Muslims fought many battles and chose to defend themselves using
swords and other weapons. But it is important to emphasize that when Muslims
used such weapons or fought such wars, their intentions—and the teachings that
guided them—were not focused on killing or physically eliminating the others. On
the contrary, the objective of the struggle was to defend the faith and pursue justice,
to protect human lives, and to accept death as martyrdom in the cause of God).
Within that context, Caliphs Abu Bakr and Ali preached their famous instructions
to their military forces not to kill older men, women, children, animals, or destroy
trees (Abu-Nimer, 2004).
Like Satha-Anand, Abu Nimer calls us to consider modern weapons systems
and the massive destruction that even the smallest war now must cause. On this
basis it is clear that any violent act employing such weapons must violate Islamic
teachings. In the case of Palestine, nonviolent resistance provides Muslims with an
opportunity and framework to resist and pursue justice without inflicting physical
harm or suffering on the “other”. The power of Islamic nonviolent resistance is its
appeal to the morality and humanity in every person, even the occupying soldiers.
It is human nature to know and discover what is right and sacred in God’s creation
Nimer thus holds that “Islamic nonviolent methods can ‘force and persuade’ the
aggressors through unity and steadfastness in the just cause.” (Abu-Nimer, 2004)
Such methods, if organized and designed correctly and implemented system-
atically, can mobilize far greater segments of the Palestinian people in resisting
oppression. And they can provide the resister, or mujahid, with a sense of power
and dignity far greater than the effect that a suicide bomb leaves in the mind and
157
heart of the same mujahid or his supporters. Such nonviolent methods can also
prevent further dehumanization of Palestinians and Muslims around the world
and convey a more powerful and sacred Islamic message of resistance.
Abu Nimer’s framework linking Islam and nonviolence is based on the central-
ity of the principle of the pursuit of justice in the building of Islam. As divinely
ordained in the Qur’an, all Muslims have a duty to fight to remove injustice and
bring justice in the different aspects of their life. Abu-Nimer sees in this principle
a call for nonviolent activism in Islam.
Another principle Abu-Nimer sees as being crucial to his framework is social
empowerment by doing good, both to oneself and to one’s fellow humans. This
second principle acts as an umbrella concept to many other ones, such as the dig-
nity of all human beings and the sacredness of their lives, equality, compassion,
forgiveness, patience and solidarity. All these concepts, he argues, provide a solid
ground for peace building in Islam.
Rabia Terri Harris

Harris, the only female on our list, has degrees in Islamic Studies and teaches in
the United States. She has been strongly influenced by Sufi Islam. She is also an
activist and founder of the Muslim Peace Fellowship on whose website we find
the following declaration: “The Arabic term for nonviolence as a life decision is
islam; the Arabic term for nonviolence as a method is jihad; The Arabic term for
the principle underlying both aspects of nonviolence is tawhid, the affirmation of
the unity of God” (Harris, 2010).
Harris critiques certain contemporary Islamic just war theorists, who draw
analogies “between the suffering Muslim peoples of today and the beleaguered and
vulnerable community around the Prophet. These theorists attempt, therefore, to
re-analyze the Prophet’s successful jihad to find those key political and strategic
insights which will once again liberate the oppressed. They hope thus to restore
to Islamic nations that life of dignity and meaning which is encapsulated in the
phrase ‘the sovereignty of God’” (Harris, 2007).
Harris critiques this Islamist move as not fitting the current situation for mul-
tiple reasons.
This [call for violent resistance] may mean pressuring present-day Muslims to more
closely approximate the image of those Muslims who were liberated long ago—thus
producing real oppression for the sake of an imagined liberation. Or it may mean
redefining “the enemy” to signify something the Prophet never would have allowed..
. .Turning to God for the sake of sovereignty and power is different from turning to
God for the sake of God. Do religiously inspired political activists genuinely seek
liberation and godliness, as the Prophet did, or do they only seek a release from hu-
miliation and a return to empire? Perhaps they themselves are not sure. (Harris, 2007)
Thus Harris is criticizing, as does Abu Nimer, the effectiveness of violent resistance
as well as its impact on the perpetrators of violent actions.
Conclusions
In summary, I will provide some general observations regarding the strategies

favored by Muslim theologians of nonviolence. It seems that arguments by con-
temporary Muslim theologians are largely philosophical rather than juridical,
for example, they do not engage in the issuing of formal legal opinions (fatwas).
Their preferred methods rather include semantic analysis of terms and expression
of holistic views along the lines of Muslim modernist evocations of the “spirit” of
the texts rather than a literal reading.
An important tactic of Muslim advocates of nonviolence is a reading of the
Prophet’s life (sira) that emphasizes peacemaking, especially drawing on the Meccan
period where the method of outreach and interaction was persuasion. Wahiduudin
Khan, for example, notes the limited engagement (one and a half days!) of the prophet
in warring activities. As Ednan Aslan’s contribution to this volume suggests, it is
the later Islamic tradition than glorified battles and armed struggle.
Among the promises of Islamic theologies of nonviolence are their hopefulness
and their willingness to engage in an internal critique. At the same time we note
that the proponents of nonviolent Islam adopt a “modern” approach that shares
strategies with Islamic liberalism, pluralism, feminism, etc., for example, employing
historical contextual interpretation of sacred texts and pivotal events.
Almost all of the examples in this chapter date from the 1990s or earlier. In
the post-millennial era one may look forward to anticipate “new” emergent Islamic
theologies of nonviolence. In these the discussion of nonviolence is being broad-
ened to include issues of gender justice, domestic violence, the psychological roots
of violence, etc., such that both private and public aspects of violence can be ad-
dressed. An example might be Ranja Ebrahim’s discussion of Q 4:34, the so-called
“beating verse” of the Qur’an, in this volume as an example of violence perpetrated
by certain interpretations of sacred scripture on female dignity and autonomy.
Muslim theologians are now coming into deeper conversation with philosophy,
comparative religion, and critical thought. More recently, Muslim theologians are
in more consistent dialogue with those of other faiths such that concepts such as
159
“reconciliation” in dialogue with Christianity can occasion mutually productive

discussions and reconsiderations of classical interpretations of verses of the Qur’an
(Hermansen, 2011; Moosa, 2015) such as:
“For, [true] servants of the Most Gracious are [only] they who walk gently
on earth, and who, whenever the foolish address them, reply with [words of]
peace” (Q 25:63),
and
“Good can never be the equal of evil. Thus repel [evil] with that which is beau-
tiful or even better; then you will find that your enemy will turn into a bosom
friend (wali hamim).” (Q 41:34-5)
In summary, there are now proponents of nonviolence within the Islamic tradition
who conclude that there is no theological reason for Muslims not to adopt nonvio-
lence. In fact, some have concluded that not to adopt nonviolence is antithetical to
Islam (Kadayifci, 2003, 42). In a time when Muslims in the West and globally face
the aspersions that their religion is to blame for the violence impacting so many
communities, voices of Muslim theologians that counter this perception are being
raised and hopefully will receive the hearing they deserve both within and without
the Islamic tradition.
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The Sunna of Fighting: Background,
Dimensions, Scope, and Consequences
Ulvi Karagedik
The Sunna of Fighting
The most important textual sources in Islam after the Qur’an are reports and
literature about the life and actions of the Prophet Muhammad (Juynboll, 2007;
Koçyiğit, 2006) . The Prophet is perceived as a role model (Bobzin, 2000) and for
many Muslims his actions constitute the foundation of their ethical actions . Even
though the Qur’an is deemed to be the primary source of law in Islam (Krawietz,
2002), it is often used as a very general guideline, while reports about the prophetic
actions (Sunna literature) act as an addition to the Qur’an . It is by means of this
secondary source of Islam that the Qur’an is often interpreted (Wiedensohler, 1971)
and put into practice . Furthermore, theological principles, explicit concepts of ac-
tion, and judicial verdicts (istinbāṭ al-ḥukm) are derived from these reports about
prophetic actions (Falaturi, 1997) . In particular, acts of violence, such as stoning
and beheading, are often legitimated and derived from Sunna literature by Muslim
fundamentalists . Apart from the question of the authenticity of this literature, it
is important to recognize its significance and to generate approaches to interpret-
ing these references . The great hadith collections (collections of the reports about
actions and statements of the Prophet), the sīra works (works about the life of the
Prophet) and the so-called maghāzī literature (literature about military campaigns,
theaters of war, and military actions of the Prophet) contain a wide range of detailed
information about different topics . With regard to the issue of violence, these works
contain both content promoting peace as well as problematic elements . Thus, the
question of violent material in the Sunna is of a very complex nature .
An appropriate hermeneutic understanding of religious source texts requires
the disclosure of the historical background as well as of the overall contextual
picture within the source text . Therefore, the problem of the question of violence
in the Sunna with its respective contexts implies a huge range of topics that include
religio-legal punishment, violence against apostates, the treatment of women, and
violence with regard to the conduct of war .
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164 Ulvi Karagedik
This chapter will limit its scope to the Prophet’s conduct of war. The focus will
be on the classical Sīra literature as well as the most famous maghāzī works by
al-Wāqidī and Ibn Sa‘d. In this chapter, the objects of research are the reports of the
military actions of the Prophet that are included in the references listed above. The
chapter aims to uncover the historical background of these reports from different
dimensions and to find the best approaches to understanding the corresponding
written records. It would go beyond the scope of this chapter to detail all the mil-
itary actions present in these references; hence its focus will be on the question of
the significance and dimension of the military campaigns of the Prophet and their
religious consequences. The reports about the military campaigns have been debated
over and over again. Moreover, the topic of the conduct of war according to Islamic
norms has become even more relevant considering the current events in the Mid-
dle East. This is true both for intra-Islamic as well as for non-Muslim discourses.
The Significance of War Stories in Early Islamic Culture
First of all, the question has to be answered as to why the Sunna contains violent
material. This seems to arise due to the culture and the social surroundings in
which Islam evolved. The pre-Islamic Arabs used to take pride in their heroic deeds
and campaigns and transmitted them in numerous legends called Ayyām al-ʿArab
(‫“ ) أﻳﺎﻡ ﺍﻟﻌﺮﺏ‬days or fighting days of the Arabs”. Thus, it comes as no surprise that
this cultural orientation continued to exist even with the later development of Islam.
As early as a century after the Prophet’s death, literature, mainly about his battles,
emerged. Exemplary for this literature is the maghāzī literature, which emerged
even before the classical hadith collections. This development of the foundation of
Islamic historiography has had effects throughout the entirety of Muslim history
up to the modern age. Even today, many Muslims perceive their Prophet’s life as a
heroic story of victory that has to be taken as an example. A kind of militant culture,
which had already been present in pre-Islamic Arabia and has continued to exist
within Islam, can be recognized. Even the readiness for war of radical Islamist
groups is oriented towards the campaigns of the Prophet. Accordingly, they want
to put their religion into practice in an aggressive way.
Violent material about the life of the Prophet thus has to be recognized in its
proper context. Moreover, the emphasis of the topics included in Sunna literature
has a different character than, for example, the Qur’an. From an Islamic perspective,
the Qur’an is of divine origin and so are the emphasis and distribution of its topics.
Not all of the Sunna meets this criteria. Literary works have been fabricated by their
The Sunna of Fighting 165
authors on their own initiative and are accordingly evaluated as well as classified.
To be able to handle these works adequately, all contextually relevant sources of
the respective transmissions would have to be cited.
But to what extent do military events dominate the life of the Prophet? Do the
campaigns hold a religiously binding dimension? How did these campaigns even
come about and how can they be characterized? What was the reason for the first
actions of war between Muslims in Medina and the polytheistic Arabs? These and
more questions will have to be answered in order to capture the full extent of the
Sunna of warfare.
Background
The starting point for the conflicts between the Muslims and the polytheistic Arabs
was their tense relationship in early Islamic Mecca. Since people from all parts of
the Arabian Peninsula would go on pilgrimages to Mecca in order to honor the
idols at the Ka‘ba, the polytheistic citizens of the city saw the emergence of a new,
monotheistic religion making absolute claims not only as irreligious, but also as an
economic threat. Besides, it must be mentioned that the Prophet belonged to the
Banū Hāshim clan, who were perceived as rivals by the rulers of the Quraysh from
other clans (Algül, 1986). Hence, there was also a desire to maintain the status of
the dominant clan. These circumstances as well as the social equality propagated
by the Prophet threatened the political structure of pre-Islamic Mecca, the hierar-
chy and the culture of the existing tribes (Omar, 2003). The hostile attitude of the
inhabitants of Mecca toward the emergence of Islam can thus not be reduced to its
message against polytheism or critique of the established lifestyle (rates of inter-
est, polygamy, gambling, alcohol etc.), but it is also associated with wide-ranging
political, economical, cultural, and other dimensions.
This initial situation led to harassment and violence against the Prophet and
the early Muslims. The Muslims for their part felt discriminated against since they
only wanted to fulfill their mission to proclaim and practice their religion (Qur’an,
15: 94-99). The polytheistic Arabs’ aggressions against the Prophet and the early
Muslims in Mecca were manifested through persecution, torture, confiscation of
properties, boycotts, and murder, which finally led to the emigration of the Muslims
to Medina (Hamidullah, 1992). The defensive position of the Prophet as well as of
his supporters shows that despite the severity of the incidents, there had been no
rebellion against the legitimated political system or the rulers in Mecca (Ibn Māja,
Book 13: 17: Hadith #3004).
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166 Ulvi Karagedik
For the inhabitants of Mecca, the Muslims’ emigration to Medina and their high
concentration there meant a threat to their trade routes to Egypt and Syria, because
the routes of their caravans went from Mecca toward Medina (Hamidullah, 1992).
They demanded the extradition of the Muslims and the Prophet and otherwise they
threatened to start a war (Abū Dāwud, Book 19: 23: Hadith #2340). The Prophet
decided to reciprocate against such threats by imposing a blockade against caravans
from Mecca that moved through Medina (Ibn Ishāq, 1978). This blockade manifested
itself in Muslim emigrants from Mecca raiding the caravans. The praxis of raiding
leads Muslim scholars to find justifications and reasons for them. This is why some
scholars say that the reason for the raids was not only the threat by the Meccans,
but mainly their confiscation of Muslim properties, which had been left behind by
the emigrants in their old home town (Watt, 2008). This is believed to be the reason
why only these emigrants took part in the raids (Ramadan, 2007). Others argue that
the exclusion of the remainder of the Medinans was based on the Prophet’s distrust
of them (Nagel, 2008). Moreover, there are also interpretations that claim that the
hindrance of Muslims from performing the pilgrimage to the Ka‘ba was crucial as
the turning point to an offensive position towards the Meccans (Berki, 2006). This
position can be emphasized by a verse from the Qur’an (Qur’an 2: 217). Some of
the above justifications seem to be accurate, but all of them point to one fact: that
the first Muslim offensives had not only religious, but also political, economic and
cultural justifications, which can be summarized as follows:
a. Religion not only had a spiritual character, but also held a crucial status of
honor in pre- and early Islamic Arabia. This is emphasized by reports about
cults and customs connected to religion around the Ka‘ba. The possession of
the Ka‘ba was linked to a claim of power over all Arabs and the offices around
the pilgrim traditions were seen as titles of glory (Nagel, 2008). This aspect puts
the aggressive position of the Meccans against the newly arising religion into
perspective. Apparently their aim was not only to destroy a new understanding
of religion, but also to maintain the tradition of their ancestors and the social
and political status quo.
b. The raids engaged in by the Medinans were only undertaken against caravans
from Mecca, especially Qurayshite caravans, but not against other, non-Muslim
caravans from other parts of Arabia (Hamidullah, 2003).
c. Raids like these were part of the Arab culture and everyday life and were meant
to maintain prestige. The raids were an old Arab custom and not an invention
of the Muslims (Watt, 2008). This circumstance is emphasized by the fact that
the Muslim raids were not directly requited by the Meccans, which shows that
the raids were perceived by them as an established custom. Thus it comes as no
surprise that the word “raid” originates from the Arabic word “ghazwa” (Lewis,
1988). Furthermore, such raids were performed by a small number of Muslims
and thus cannot be placed on the same level as big campaigns.
d. After the emigration, the role of the Prophet acquired not only a religious, but
also a political dimension, since he became the ruler of the city state of Medina
(Watt, 2008). The fact that militant actions only started at that point indicates
that the use of violence did not become lawful until a political mandate was in
force. The absence of fighting during the earlier Meccan times (Falaturi, 1992),
even for the purpose of resistance, underpins this hypothesis, as it shows a
compliance with the authorities as well as the observance of the authorities’
legitimation. As a solution to increasing oppression, not the use of violence,
but rather emigration was chosen as the first option. It should be noted that
during the Meccan period, the Muslims were lacking the power to perform
combat operations against the governors. Military inferiority, and even lack
of opportunity, however, do not present any reason for the lack of violence on
the part of the weaker party. Hence the Prophet’s passive behavior at this time
is important to note.
e. The inter-religious structure of the charter of Medina (Yıldırım, 2006) offers
a rationale for the political character of a possible military defense of Medina
in the event of attack, since it was intended to defend all the people of Medina
and not only the Muslims (Hamidullah, 2003). Therefore, not a specific religion,
but rather the territory of Medina was to be protected. The city-state was under
the threat of the Meccans who were demanding the extradition of the Prophet.
At first, defensive measures did not emerge in the form of a classic “defense” in
terms of military maneuvers, but in the form of raids and thereby demonstration
of power as a deterrent. Thus, it seems evident that the attitude of the Medinans
was not of a purely “defensive” nature, as is stated in some biographies of the
Prophet (Berkit, 2006), but rather was of an offensive, deterrent nature that was
likely for the purpose of defense.
Extent and Types of Islamic Military Actions
al-Wāqidī (1948) and Ibn Saʿd (1909) mention 27 campaigns of the Prophet, not all
of which can be classified as military campaigns or wars. The actions related in the
classic maghāzī works include raids, the signing of peace treaties, punishments, and
classic war events. The raids are, as already stated, not to be classified as wars since
they involved cultural aspects and served the purpose of plundering and discour-
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168 Ulvi Karagedik
aging the enemy, not of definitively destroying him. The enemy’s delegations were
picked up, disempowered, and their goods were confiscated and kept. This does not
conform to the classical confrontation between two groups, where the capture of
territory or the like is at stake. Nevertheless, it should not be denied that the raids
comprised military actions and, in their peculiarities, can be compared to patrols
in the modern sense. Therefore, active confrontations did not occur during each of
these patrols because the intended objective had, for example, escaped or evaded
and could not be found. However, such expeditions led to the intimidation of the
opponent. Expeditions that led to peace treaties are not to be classified as “cam-
paigns” either, since no combat operation would have occurred. Accordingly, the
military actions mentioned by al-Wāqidī and Ibn Saʿd can be classified as follows:
1. Military actions without violence performed by the Muslims: Al-ʾAbwāʾa (2 A.

Hijra/ 623 A.D.), Ghazwa Būwāṭ (2/ 623), Ghazwa Safawān (2/ 623), Ghazwa
al-ʿUshayra (2/ 623), Ghazwa as-Sawīq (2/624), Ghazwa al-Qarqara al-Kudr (2 or
3/ 624), Banū an-Naḍīr (4/ 626), Badr al-Mawʿid (4/ 626), Ghazwa Dhātar-Riqāʿa
(5/ 626), Dūma al-Jandal (5/ 626), Banū Liḥyān (6/ 627), Ṣulḥ al-Ḥudaybiyya (6/
628), Tabūk (9/ 630).
2. Military actions with active confrontations: Al-Badr (3/ 624), Banū Qainuqāʿa
(2/ 624), Banū Ghaṭafān (3/ 624), Banū Sulaym (3/ 625), GhazwaʾUḥud (3/ 625),
Ghazwa Ḥamrāʾa al-ʾAsad (3/ 625), Ghazwa Banī Musṭaliq (5or 6/ 627), Ghazwa
al-Khandaq (4or 5/ 627), Ghazwa Banī Qurayẓa (4 or 5/ 627), Ghazwa al-Ghāba
(6/ 627), conquest of Khaybar (6/ 628), Wādī al-Qurā (6/ 628), Fatḥ al-Makka (8/
630), Ghazwa Ḥunayn or Banū Hawāzin (8/ 630), Aṭ-Ṭāʾif (8/ 630)
Considering the maghāzī literature, it seems that the 62 years of the Prophet’s life
as well as the 23 years of his prophecy were dominated by violence and wars. The
great number of military actions without the use of violence by the Muslims, how-
ever, shows that the total duration of active fighting should be considered far less
than usually assumed. The process of fighting, even during brief campaigns like
the battle of Badr or the battle of Uḥud, as is well known, did not take very long
and only lasted a few hours (Guillaume, 1967). If one adds up all the active fights
mentioned by al-Wāqidī and Ibn Saʿd, with each fight lasting an average of half a
day, the total duration is about one week. A week of active fighting constitutes a
very small time frame compared to his 23 years of prophecy (about 8,000 days) and
lifespan of 62 years. Furthermore, all types of combat operations are added together
in this calculation (pre-emptive strikes, offensive, and defensive military actions).
Many of the military actions consisted of expeditionary forces sent out pre-emp-
tively. The Prophet had organized—for those times impressive—surveillance and
intelligence operations and had thus been informed about upcoming attacks on
Medina as well as attacks which were in preparation (Hamidullah, 2003). This was
the case, for example, during the expeditions against the Banū Sulaym (3/ 625), the
Ghazwa Ḥamrāʾa al-Asad (3/ 625) or the Ghazwa Ḥunayn (8/ 630) (Al-Wāqidī, 1948).
This shows that such military actions were not of a defensive nature, they rather
held the character of primarily offensive strikes based on intelligence information
and thus indirectly served defense. On the other hand, battles like GhazwaʾUḥud (3/
625) or Ghazwa al-Khandaq (5/ 627) were purely defensive wars (Ibn Isḥāq, 1978; al-
Wāqidī, 1948). This is also shown by the geographical position of the battlegrounds,
which were located directly in and near Medina, the location of the Muslims. This
illustrates that they were attacked by the arriving military forces (bear in mind
that Mecca is approx. 400 km away from Medina). In contrast, the battle of Badr
(3/ 624) resulted from a raid by the people of Medina on a caravan from Mecca (Ibn
Isḥāq, 1978; Hamidullah, 2003), and therefore this battle cannot be rated as solely
defensive. Nevertheless, circumstances make clear that the city-state of Medina,
which was under the rule of the Islamic Prophet, was under continuous threat of
attacks as well as planned attacks. Therefore the Muslims pursued the strategy of
asserting themselves militarily in order to safeguard their existence.
The Ghazwa Banī Qurayẓa (4 or 5/627) is of a completely different character and
can be rated as a punishment rather than a military campaign. After the Ghazwa
al-Khandaq (4 or 5/627), in which a whole alliance of aggressors set themselves
against the city state of Medina (al-Baladhurī, Ḥadith 730) and which posed a
serious threat, judgment was passed on the Jewish tribe Banī Qurayẓa. They had
been conducting negotiations with the attackers during Ghazwa al-Khandaq and
were probably planning to betray the Muslims from within the inner city of Medina
(Watt, 1961). After the battle, the Prophet ordered them besieged and they had to
capitulate. Saʿd b. Muʿādh, the ruler of the most influential tribe of Medina, the Aws,
was supposed to decide the fate of the Banī Qurayẓa. The Banī Qurayẓa themselves
as well as the tribesmen promised to agree to Saʿd b. Muʿādh’s judgment (Ibn Isḥāq,
1978). He decided to execute the men and enslave the women and children of the
tribe. Ibn Isḥāq (1978) mentions that 600-700 men put to death, while at-Tirmidhī
states that 400 were executed (2007, Hadith 1582). The latter source seems more
accurate since Ibn Isḥāq also states that the Banī Qurayẓa were captured in the
house of Zayd ibn Ḥarith after they capitulated. It appears difficult to keep 500 to
1000 people in a single house of 7th century Medina. Furthermore, Ibn Isḥāq does
not name any sources for the information about the numbers of the Banī Qurayẓa,
while at-Tirmidhī’s hadith has a chain of transmission and, contrary to Ibn Isḥāq’s
report, is to be rated more substantive if this record is true. However, the approach
taken against the Banī Qurayẓa represents a turning point in the military method
169
170 Ulvi Karagedik
of the Muslims in Medina. While the Banū an-Naḍīr (4/ 626), a Jewish tribe as
well, were granted permission to emigrate from Medina, the Banū Qurayẓa were
sentenced to death (Ibn Isḥāq, 1978).
While execution after a defeat was common in the warfare of that time (Norman,
1979), it must be questioned why the tribe was not just expelled like the Banū an-
Naḍīr. They likely wanted to prevent expelled enemies from striking back because
the Banū an-Naḍīr were important initiators of the dangerous Ghazwa al-Khandaq
(Ibn Isḥāq, 1978). As a conclusion, it can be stated that the actions taken against the
Banī Qurayẓa did not constitute war, but rather a process of punishment and that
the underlying cause was a political sanctioning rather than a religiously motivat-
ed execution. As tragic as the fate of the Banī Qurayẓa may be, it has to be taken
into consideration that the charter of Medina intended coexistence with the Jews
(Hamidullah, 2003) and that the Qur’an legitimates the existence of the People of
the Book (Qur’an, 22: 40; 60: 8-9). Accordingly, the Prophet’s primary aim was not
to expel all Jews (Watt, 1962), which is also indicated by the records in which the
Prophet declares that he will be prepared to confront anyone in the afterlife who
treats a Jew or a Christian badly (Abū Dāwud, Book 19: 23: Hadith 3046).
In contrast, the Ghazwa al-Ghāba (6/ 627) or the takeover of Mecca corresponds
to classic war events. While the Ghazwa al-Ghāba was a retaliatory strike, the
takeover of Mecca was based on a breach of contract (Ibn Isḥāq, 1978). The general
amnesty towards the hostile Meccans, on the other hand, was unconventional. This
result marks the peak of the Prophet’s power and the opportunity to eliminate the
long lasting problem with the Meccans. But instead of taking revenge, the Prophet
decided to exercise leniency. This aspect of the prophetic conduct of war is crucial,
since it invalidates the claim of adopting a peaceful position during weak times and
a violent policy at times of the stronger rule of the Prophet in Medina. Moreover,
the Qur’an emphasizes that retaliation was permitted, but forgiveness was desired:
“Those who, when visited by aggression, come to each other’s aid. The requital of
evil is an evil like it. So whoever excuses and conciliates, his reward lies with Allah.
Indeed He does not like the wrongdoers.” (Qur’an 42: 39)
Violence-Laden Material in the Sunna in Relationship

to the Qur’an
The suffering of the Muslims caused by the Meccans or the customs and acts of war
in 7th-century Arabia would have entirely justified the punishments and execution
of their defeated enemies (Watt, 1961). The motivation behind the classic warfare
style of the Prophet was thus neither the shedding of blood nor the elimination of
religious and political enemies, but rather the necessity of making an existential
assertion. The following verses can be understood along those lines:
Those who are fought against are permitted [to fight] because they have been
wronged, and Allah is indeed able to help them. Those who were expelled from
their homes unjustly, only because they said, ‘Allah is our Lord.’ Had not Allah
repulsed the people from one another, ruin would have befallen the monaster-
ies, churches, synagogues and mosques in which Allah’s Name is mentioned
greatly. Allah will surely help those who help Him. Indeed Allah is All-strong,
Almighty. (Qur’an 22: 39-40)
and
They are eager that you should disbelieve like they have disbelieved, so that you
all become alike. So do not make friends [with anyone] from among them, until
they migrate in the way of Allah. But if they turn their backs, seize them and
kill them wherever you find them, and do not take from among them friends
or helpers, excepting those who join a people between whom and you there is
a treaty, or such as come to you with hearts reluctant to fight you or to fight
their own people. Had Allah wished, He would have imposed them upon you,
and then they would have surely fought you. So if they keep out of your way
and do not fight you, and offer you peace, then Allah does not allow you any
course [of action] against them. (Qur’an 4: 89-90)
However, the question of how to deal with transmissions such as the following,
still arises:
I have been commanded to fight the people until they say La ilaha illā allāh (There
is no God but God). Whoever says La ilāha illā allāh, his wealth and his life are pro-
tected from me except for a right that is due, and his reckoning will be with Allah
(Muslim, Book 1: 8: Hadith #33)
According to the sabab al-wurūd, the reason for the utterance of this report, an
intruder (probably Abū Mas‘ūd) was supposed to be killed during a visit of the del-
egation of the Banū Thaqīf to the Prophet. Thereupon, the Prophet asked whether
he was Muslim, which was affirmed. Subsequently, the Prophet spoke the words
mentioned above (Masud, 2002). This context converts the intention of the hadith
from the use of violence against non-Muslims to the renunciation of violence to-
wards Muslims. The question is, what would have happened if the invader had not
171
172 Ulvi Karagedik
been Muslim? The obvious assumption is that the man would probably have been
killed. A similar problem is apparent in the interaction with some enemies of the
Muslims during the conquest of Mecca. Even though people like the leader of the
Meccans, Abū Sufyān, were not directly killed despite their offenses against the
Muslims, they had the choice between either converting to Islam or being executed
(Ibn Isḥāq, 1978). Furthermore, the idols of the polytheistic Arabs were destroyed
(Muslim, Book 32: 31: hadith #4622). These and other, similar practices suggest
that the use of violence was not only politically, but also religiously motivated.
Why else would the acceptance of Islam have led to amnesty? But the answer
seems to lie precisely in this question. As stated before, religion had practical and
ritual functions as well as functions linked to status. The polytheistic Arabs had
fought hard against the Muslims and they perceived the new religion as a rebel-
lion against the religion of their ancestors (Qur’an 43:22-24). Polytheism thus had
negative political, legal, social, and historical connotations for the Muslims. The
threat represented by Arab polytheism was no longer to be endured. Therefore the
embrace of Islam meant, aside from the religious dimension of the forgiveness of
sins by God, the elimination of potential risks and the removal of any remnants of
polytheism. Apart from the religious rejection of Islamic beliefs by polytheists, this
also minimized the risk of a return of the newly converted to their former religion.
How could a polytheist return to his faith, when all its idols had been destroyed?
Thus, polytheism was extinguished in the area controlled by Islam, but this was
probably politically, rather than religiously motivated. If the aim of early Islamic
politics had been to eliminate other religions for purely religious reasons, it would
conflict with the Qur’an:
Allah does not forbid you in regard to those who did not make war against you
on account of religion and did not expel you from your homes, that you deal with
them with kindness and justice. Indeed Allah loves the just; So admonish—for you
are only an admonisher, and not a taskmaster over them. (Qur’an 60:8; 88:21-22)
Moreover, it should be noted that in Islam, religious actions or religious beliefs lose
their validity if they are enforced and do not correspond to one’s inner conviction.
The mentioned quotes from the Qur’an illustrate—aside from the possible co-
existence with non-Muslims—the understanding of their own role from the inner
perspective of Muslims as a leading and directing authority in Arab society. This
role might not have been intended at first, but became possible only due to the
threat by the polytheistic Arabs, the following emigration, as well as the political
mandate in Medina and the consequent territorial expansion.
Handling of the Sunna Material
Throughout the history of Islam, different models for handling violent material in
the Sunna have developed. For example, the model of the schools of law makes use of
the principle of taqlīd (imitation) (Masud, 2002), which means the subordination of
a person or jurist to following the rulings of a school of law. Here, the school of law
decides when and how violence can or should be legitimized and used. The question
of the use of violence therefore often lies in the hands of religious or political leaders.
Furthermore, there was the principle of ṭarīqa (Masud, 2002), which was especially
characteristic of mystical Islam and the Sufi orders. The ṭarīqa principle does not
completely exclude the principles of the legal schools, but it is also characterized
by the quest for spiritual, not only literal, meanings in the material.
A turning point in classical handling of religious literature and thus also with
violent material starts with Taqī ad-Dīn Aḥmad ibn Taymīya in the 13th/14th
century and further develops in the modern age, especially starting in the 18th
century with Muḥammad ibn ʿAbd al-Wahhāb in Saudi Arabia. A more belligerent
approach to the significance of religious texts and injunctions as well as advocating
the use of violence for the prevention of evil were increasingly justified during this
period (Masud, 2002).
Furthermore, the subsequent handling of the topic of fighting motivated by Islam
within the tradition may have to do with the confrontation with colonial powers,
the gradual loss of the last great caliphate, the interactions of the Ottoman Empire,
as well as the later development of modern and secular nation states in Muslim
countries, with the resultant disentanglement of national law codes from shari’a.
New interpretations arose, which meshed with the development of jihadist literature.
It has to be recognized that conceptions of jihad were constantly changing along
with historical and political developments in Islamic history (Motzki, 2009). For
example, in recent interpretations it has been shown that jihad can also be directed
against Muslims, for example in the Iran-Iraq war.
Problems with analyzing violent material in the Sunna include an over emphasis
on the text itself and the lack of the general readership’s theological grounding.
Readers have access to violent material quoted out of context, because of the almost
immediate distribution available through mass media like the Internet. Radical
interpretations may proliferate while contextual references are disregarded, espe-
cially if the material is not critically examined in relation to the Qur’an and the
historical context.
Since the state leadership in Muslim, as well as non-Muslim, countries is per-
ceived as “acting un-Islamically”, radicals ready to use violence may utilize the
Sunna as a basis for action. Individuals and groups that are prepared to use violence
173
174 Ulvi Karagedik
claim to act out of a religious motivation, but without any political legitimation
or corresponding mandate, and thus they operate more or less in an anarchistic
manner. They legitimate their approach with hadiths like:
Whoever among you sees an evil action, let him change it with his hand (by
taking action); if he cannot, then with his tongue (by speaking out); and if he cannot,
then with his heart (by hating it and feeling it is wrong), and that is the weakest of
faith. (Muslim, Book 1: 20: hadith #78)
While such hadith reports can be drawn on as spiritual resources for inner and
outer ethical responses towards unjust actions or misdeeds, they may also serve
radicals ready to use violence as a carte blanche for their operations.
Conclusion
The significance of war in the pre-Islamic culture of the Arabian Peninsula and an
emphasis on Islamic warfare has led to violence becoming the focus of attention
on the part of some Muslims, while other aspects of the Sunna, such as ethical
behavior, helpfulness, kindness towards children or good treatment of animals,
are being neglected. This issue is similar to another problem that emerges in the
Muslim world—i.e., that aspects of outward appearance like having a beard assume
a high priority, while nobody cares about people littering the environment. But the
question remains, to what extent is the spirit behind the behavior of the Prophet
or behind religious sources to be understood?
Religious texts and sources may contain violent content. But why do they contain
these violent materials if they correspond to actions willed by God? Did God want
violence in the religious sources or was God making references to human realities?
Violence is a part of human reality, whether past, present or future. Violence has
always led to retaliation and counter-violence. Thus, it was attempted to regulate
human violence by a just authority through religion (Girard, 1979).
Violence in religious sources is an undeniable reality and it should be recognized
that the Sunna contains violence as a subject of discussion. However, the life of the
Prophet was not centered on this issue, let alone dominated by violence. Threats of
violence presented a reason for emigration, for the quest for allies, for the conclusion
of treaties, for raids, for pre-emptive strikes, for legal decisions, and for battles in
the classic sense. Therefore, transmissions like, “O people! Do not desire to en-
counter the enemy, and ask Allah for health. And when you encounter them, then
be patient, and know that Paradise is under the shade of the swords” (Abū Dāwud,
Book 15: 89: hadith #2631) can be found along with regular calls to take up arms.
The mutual interactions among economic interests, cults based on honor and
glory, political decisions regardless of religion, religiously motivated assertions,
and the intention to do justice, were all triggers for the Prophet’s warfare. It is
thus clearly shown that the Sunna of fighting is not the predominant practice of
Islam, but neither can it be interpreted as being completely independent of it. The
dimensions, scope, and roles of the Prophet’s actions must be recognized in order
to differentiate among the various roles and aspects of his engagements. Like many
religious texts and teachings, the conduct of war can only be understood correctly
in its proper context.
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Women’s Entitlement to Autonomy
in Islam and Related Controversies
Surrounding Verse 4:34
Ranja Ebrahim
Women’s Entitlement to Autonomy in Islam
With the emergence of Islam in the Arabian Peninsula in the early 7th century, wom-
en experienced a reevaluation of their existing self-conceptions . This reevaluation
introduced a new understanding of the self and its relationships to others, enjoining
equality under one transcendent power . In this respect, it can be said that the shift
from being a restricted tribal member to becoming an autonomous person was meant
not only to uplift women from the oppressive structures of the pre-Islamic tribal sys-
tem, but also to positively impact all of humanity, irrespective of gender differences .
But if one takes an honest look at the current situations of women in societies
in which the majority population is Muslim, it seems that it is Islam that actually
deprives women of rights and equality while urging them to endure ill-treatment
and abuses, whether physical or mental . Against this background it seems like mere
lip service to state that Islam actually meant to introduce a gender revolution in
order to rehabilitate women’s image and position in society . Statistics obtained, for
example, by UNESCO,1 illustrate the miserable conditions of Muslim women with
regard to educational status and degree of participation and active contributions to
public and political life . Due to these conditions and the streams of mainly Muslim
refugees that the EU is currently dealing with, it seems of central significance in
social, as well as political, discourses to question Islam’s potential to promote gender
equality and to enable Muslims to meet the related challenges that lie in the future
in Europe . There are certain qur’anic verses that not only seem to confirm these
premises, but also seem to instill biases due to the abuses of qur’anic commandments
in order to offer male members of society a more comfortable and rewarding life
One of them is verse 4:34 which reads:
1 UNESCO report on adult illiteracy . Retrieved from http://www .unesco .de/bildung/2011/

uho-0911-alphabetisierung/erwachsene-analphabeten-grafi k0 .html March 16, 2016 .
177
178 Ranja Ebrahim
“Men shall take full care of women with the bounties which God has bestowed
more abundantly on the former than on the latter, and with what they may
spend out of their possessions. And the righteous women are the truly devout
ones, who guard the intimacy which God has [ordained to be] guarded. And
as for those women whose ill-will you have reason to fear, admonish them
[first]; then leave them alone in bed; then beat them; and if thereupon they pay
you heed, do not seek to harm them. Behold, God is indeed most high, great!”
(Asad translation, 1980)2
This verse seems not only to condone of disciplinary measures against women,
specifically corporal punishment, but also to place men in positions of power vis-
à-vis women. Hence, the epicenter of my chapter is the positioning of males and
the resulting positioning of females that emerges from the classical commentaries
on this verse. According to the latter, a man is not simply put in the position of
judging his wife’s actions, he is in fact made responsible or rather co-responsible
for her decisions. Subsequently, he is elevated to a privileged position that allows
him to determine whether she is behaving poorly, and if so, tasks him to choose
an adequate punishment to get her back on track.
In this context, the kind of violence that concerns me in this chapter is less the
physical aspect of violence, but rather the aspect of the incapacitation of woman and
her related impotence in the face of this imbalance and inequality. Indeed, support
for violence-affirming positions at the present time finds its roots first and foremost
in classical approaches. The worldviews and the images of women in the commentar-
ies on this verse correspond with the contextual embedding of their authors. Since
these earlier approaches still enjoy sovereignty over other interpretations today, it
is necessary to have a brief look at three of the recognized classical commentaries:
The famous commentary known as the Jalālayn states the following about
about verse 4:34.
And as for those you fear may be rebellious, disobedient to you, when such
signs appear, admonish them, make them fear God, and share not beds with
them, retire to other beds if they manifest such disobedience, and strike them,
but not violently, if they refuse to desist [from their rebellion] after leaving
them [in separate beds]. If they then obey you, in what is desired from them,
2 All of the qur’anic verses cited in this chapter are taken from Muhammad Asad`s trans-
lation. For detailed information regarding the source, see the bibliography below.
Women’s Entitlement to Autonomy in Islam 179
do not seek a way against them, a reason to strike them unjustly. God is ever
High, Great, so beware of Him, lest He punish you for treating them unjustly.3
The commentary in the tafsīr al-qur’ān al-̔ ̣aẓīm of the famous Islamic scholar Ibn
Kathīr (d. 1373) suggests that if the wife does not react (positively) to the lesson
(maw‘iẓa), nor to the male’s turning away (hijrān), he should beat her, but in a
painless (ghair mubāriḥ) way (Ibn Kathīr, 26).
In his tafsīr, entitled Jāmi ̔ ̣ al-bayān ‘an ta᾽wīl al-qur᾽ān4, aṭ-Ṭabarī argues in a
similar way. Corporal punishment is permitted, as long as it is not painful (ghair
mubāriḥ).
In summary, it can be said that each of these three sample commentaries on
this verse permits corporal punishment, i.e., violence, towards women, if the first
two approaches, namely a) the lesson that ought to instill the remembrance of God
and b) turning away (from marital intimacy) fail. Violence, in the form of corporal
punishment, is permitted in all three commentaries, but it is recommended to be
non-painful. These inferences are built upon the consensus that the term used for
the female (qānitāt) means “obedient”, i.e., in this case obedient to the husband.
My premise is that these classical approaches to the verse undermine a wom-
an’s right to autonomy, which was bestowed in the same text which now seems to
deprive them of it in other instances, thereby placing them at the mercy of males
and subordinated to subjective male understandings of righteousness. Hence, the
focus on violence in this chapter is to be seen in connection with autonomy. How-
ever, before I discuss the theological consequences of women being deprived of
autonomy, which is granted to all human beings in Islam, it is necessary to look at
the situation of women and the prevailing social structures in pre-Islamic Arabia.
In my opinion, investigating this period is crucial, as the improvements that Islam
instituted for women in society are only visible when compared with the pre-Islamic
era, the so-called Jahiliyya (Age of Ignorance).. Moreover, many practices today
are traditionally and erroneously linked to Islam, such as female genital mutilation
(FGM) and the arbitrary practice of polygamy in some Muslim societies—conditions
that seem to obscure the border between religion and tradition.
The concept of community in pre-Islamic Arabia and during the lifetime of the
Prophet Muhammad was based, with few exceptions, on blood relations. These
exceptions included, for instance, the legally binding of two or more clans on the
3 Tafsir al-Jalālayn. Retrieved from http://www.altafsir.com/Tafasir.asp?tMadhNo=0&t-

TafsirNo=74&tSoraNo=4&tAyahNo=34&tDisplay=yes&UserProfile=0&LanguageId=2
4 Tafsir al-Ṭabarī. Retrieved March 29, 2016 from https://archive.org/stream/tafseer-al-
tabari/taftabry06#page/n709/mode/2up; see p. 710.
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180 Ranja Ebrahim
basis of a contract. These contracts were made for the purpose of defeating or
undermining a common enemy and they were usually dissolved after the aim was
achieved. The strongest clans constituted independent political entities (Watt, 1981).
Internally, clans were strictly hierarchical with women occupying the lowest
ranks within them and their value being equated with the material goods belonging
to the clan. The strength and influence of a clan corresponded to its inner constel-
lation, i.e., the number of male representatives (Watt, 1981). There were continual
blood feuds between competing clans which simultaneously posed a threat with
regard to the influence and power of each clan in the region. The defensive forces
of the individual clans could be regarded as decisive for the strength and, therefore,
the reputation of a clan in the face of other rival clans. This social constellation
already implies the baseline that women were regarded as a burden that threat-
ened the positioning of families within the predominate system. However, if the
opposing clan managed to kidnap one or more women of the rival clan, the latter
was exposed to two situations, both of which harmed its reputation. The first one
was the payment of a large amount of money to the opposing party. The second was
the refusal to payand, consequently, a decrease in the clan’s honor, which resulted
from the loss of its women to the enemy. Consequently, clans sometimes chose to
bury female offspring alive as soon as they were born. Female infanticide was thus
regarded as a means to prevent a clan from becoming vulnerable vis-à-vis other
clans (Jawad, 1998).
The most determinative fact regarding the image of women in the Jahiliyya is
connected to her value. Women before Islam were regarded as property or objects
that could be passed on at the will of the male family members. The frame of marriage
did not ensure protection from the arbitrariness of the moods of the male guardians.
Once the husband passed away, it was possible for his sons or his brothers to take on
the widow, including her inheritance, leaving her with no right to it. Marriage was
not bound by a specific contract or any other contractual agreements. Men could
therefore marry as many women as they wished. At the same time a man could
repudiate his wife without a reason and take her back as often as he willed. Due to
the lack of a contract to curb the arbitrariness of the husband, women were helpless
against the superior positions of the male members of the tribe. If a woman was
remarried, she had no control over her personal belongings or inheritance that her
husband had left to her, nor any other right to personal property, as women were
themselves regarded as being such. (Jawad, 1998).
Consequently, it can be suggested that women in pre-Islamic Arabia did not
achieve the entitlement of full personhood, i.e., the claim to unconditional dignity.
This occurred for numerous reasons, but was primarily due to the social constella-
tion which privileged and preferred certain people over others and the fact that the
privileged positions were mainly occupied by men. Hence, the concept of dignity
in pre-Islamic Arabia was bound to certain qualities and prerequisites and was
therefore not intrinsic in everyone.
The coming of Islam to Arabia intended to break the tradition of the tribal
system, not least because this system was responsible for destructive dynamics in
the region that went beyond gender issues. The significant difference between the
understanding of community in pre-Islamic Arabia and the Islamic understand-
ing of community, i.e., umma, is that the community was no longer solely based
on blood relations. The basis of the umma constituted collective witnessing to the
oneness of God (Watt, 1981). This change of perspective required critical reflection
and abandoning the shared “tribal egoism” in favor of equalizing all humanity on
the horizontal level beneath one transcendent power (Lahbabi, 2011, 59). On a social
level, this meant the breakdown of the social hierarchy and the approval of spiritual
enhancement on both the social and individual levels. On the social level, the frame
of social awareness experienced an expansion and enhancement that extended
beyond the limits of the tribe, i.e., the family. The consciousness of the individual
with regard to his self-conception allowed identification with a wider frame that
went beyond the limits of language, origin, and sex (Lahbabi, 2011). Each human
being was henceforth given unconditional dignity (karāmat al-insān), regardless of
any restricting qualities. This condition of individual worth and dignity no longer
needed to be set aside for the maintenance of the common system:
Now, indeed, We have conferred dignity on the children of Adam [laqad kar-
ramna banī ādam], and borne them over land and sea, and provided for them
sustenance out of the good things of life, and favored them far above most of
Our creation. (Q 17:70)
The most substantial characteristic of the qur’anic understanding of dignity, which

is comparable with the European understanding of dignity according to Kant and
the Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedom,5
is its aspect of inherency. God’s conferral of unconditional dignity on humankind
is to be understood as an implicit act of love and a bestowal of honor (Kamali, 2011,
11). The expression of dignity (karāma) as well as the correlating characteristics of
humanity are explicitly as well as implicitly articulated in the qur’anic text. The
following section of this chapter contains a short discussion of the qur’anic expres-
sion of dignity on the explicit, as well on the implicit levels. This step is crucial for
5 European Convention on Human Rights. Retrieved April 6, 2016 from http://www.echr.

coe.int/Documents/Convention_ENG.pdf
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182 Ranja Ebrahim
presenting the qur’anic characteristics and God-given abilities of humanity, which

forms one component of my elaboration of the theological consequences that I
assert are a result of withdrawing female autonomy in verse 4:34.
Three main points, which are to be explicitly understood, clearly intend to elevate
humankind, and make no distinction between men and women. The first main
point addresses the already mentioned aspect of inheritance. The dignitaries in this
case are the children of Adam (banī Ādam). This term occurs quite frequently in
the qur’anic text and refers allegorically to the whole of humanity. Hence, dignity is
declared to be an intrinsic good, without excluding or preferring certain groups of
people, nor by restricting it to Adam himself (Lavasani & Kalantarkousheh, 2013).
Hence, a person’s religiousness or lack thereof does not influence the degree of his
or her essential dignity as a human being. On the lexical level, it can be observed
that the verse uses the relatively neutral term “banī Adam” to refer to humanity.
This aspect is a remarkable phenomenon of the qur’anic text. When it comes to
describing the creation of humankind, men and women are always being addressed
collectively and this “is not expressed in gender terms” (Wadud, 1999, 20). Moreover,
the term insān (human being), which may designate either biological or psycho-
logical elements of human nature, occurs in the Qur’an about 240 times. However,
these hints do not seem to be intended to reveal anatomical or even ontological
descriptions or indications of the distinction between men and women. Instead,
they seem to describe “abilities, conditions, status and other social and spiritual
ways of life of humankind” in order to make the “creator-creation-relationship”
derivable from them (Hajatpour, 2013, 75).6 In this context, there is no distinction
being made between men and women.
The second argument states that human beings are never seen as the means to
an end, but rather as the purpose itself. The creation of the earth and everything
on it, as well as what it produces, are described as a bestowal of honor by God
on his creation which is to provide “for them sustenance out of the good things
of life” (17:70) (Lavasani & Kalantarkousheh, 2013). Hence, the purpose and the
nature of the earth (see also 45:13, 31:20, 45:13), and the thriving of living beings
and crops, are placed here to achieve a comfortable life for humankind on earth
(Ibn Kathīr, 1981, 389).
The third point relates to the status and position of humankind with respect
to the rest of creation. Ibn Kathīr cites a hadith of the Prophet in his commentary
on the qur’anic verse 7:37:
6 Translated from the German text by the author.

And the Angels said: Oh Lord! You gave the children of Adam the earth (this
world)—to eat, to drink and to live on it and we praise your compassion without
eating, without drinking and with no enjoyment. So, as You dedicated to them this
world, dedicate to us the hereafter (paradise). He (God) said: There is no comparison
with the best (creation), which I created with my own hands and others [for example
angels, heavens and the earth] which came into existence by me ordering them to Be!
and it was. (Ibn Kathīr II, 1981, 389)7
Besides the explicit commitment to human dignity in qur’anic passages, there is a

broader spectrum of implicit verses that either build upon the explicit principles
or extend one of the three points discussed above. Even if invoked neither explic-
itly nor implicitly, the term “dignity” may be considered to be entangled with the
whole range of human characteristics. The following section discusses the implicit
characteristics connected to the human being in the qur’anic text:
The first point that I would like to make concerns human ability and freedom
of choice. A person can only be rated as autonomous if he/she has the liberty to
choose for or against something. Lahbabi (2011) ties this disposition to the essential
consideration that each person is singular (Lahbabi, 2011, 61), meaning that each
human being is to be seen as an individual, which can never be considered as a
prototype. This principle implies the obligatory acceptance that each person is to
choose for or against something, even if the decision is about religious freedom:
“There shall be no compulsion in [acceptance of] religion” (2:256). This verse states
a clear prohibition against any kind of offences that threaten the right to choose
(Kamali, 2011, 39). This point is clearly supported by the principle stated in the
explicit articulation of humankind’s unconditional intrinsic dignity that does
not correlate with or change according to a person’s religious attitude. Hence, the
choice for or against religion can be regarded as the utilization of the autonomous
right to choose and can be subsequently understood as the claim of the qur’anic
dignity given to the children of Adam. If we hold on to this point for a moment,
and think back to the classical commentaries, the first discrepancy is perceptible.
All three commentaries on 4:34 agree on the meaning of maw‘iẓa, i.e., to warn the
wife, reminding her of God, as one of the preliminary steps before beating her. In
this context, the wife does not obtain the right to choose for or against faith. Hence,
she is not autonomous with regard to religious freedom. The compulsion to adopt
the right path that relates to the subjective understanding of the husband in this
context is to be encountered with violence. If freedom of choice is a characteristic
of humanity which is implicitly connected to dignity and this is, in turn, explicitly
stated in the qur’anic text, then we have a fateful discrepancy between bestowed
7 Translated from the original Arabic text by the author.

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184 Ranja Ebrahim
rights and abilities conveyed in the divine text to humanity and the classical Is-
lamic perspective on interpersonal relationships which actually is to regulate these
according to a frame of fairness in the service of the protection of women.
The second point concerns humankind’s uniqueness in the order of creation
that is connected to certain rights and privileges which at the same time are in-
terrelated with a range of obligations and responsibilities (Talbi, 1993, 57). These
capacities are equally imposed on men and women. There is no distinction made
in the Qur’ān between men and women when God intends to address humanity
in regard to spiritual relationships as well as individual “aspirations” (Wadud,
1999, 62). This attitude is implemented in the text by addressing men and women
as individuals, usually referred to as nafs—“Allah does not tax a nafs beyond its
scope. For it (is only) that which it has earned, and [held] against it (is only) that
which it has deserved” (2:286).
However, the consequences of this two-fold nature are visible in the qur’anic
narration on the demonstration and confrontation of human abilities and those of
angels and jinn. In this narration there are two central points that provide further
demonstrations of the significance of humans having certain abilities that seem to
include a higher purpose, ungraspable by the common human mind.
The first issue relates to God`s demand for prostration by the angels and jinn
before Adam in Qur’an 2:34. According to the fundamental Islamic principle of
tawḥīd,8 it is only God who is due the honor of receiving prostration and worship.
From the Islamic perspective, physical prostration embodies absolute commitment
and humility (Kamali, 2011, 13). In fact, prostration is a fixed component of the
daily Islamic ritual prayers. The theology of tawḥīd is articulated in the verse:
“Thee alone do we worship; and unto Thee alone do we turn for aid” (1:5), and
the qur’anic chapter from which this verse derives is the most frequently recited
chapter, as it is also repeatedly recited during the course of each ritual prayer. If
one only counts the obligatory prayers without considering the additional Sunna
prayers performed according to the tradition of the Prophet Muhammad, precisely
this particular verse is recited 17 times per day. Hence, God assigns in this qur’anic
narration the same action of commitment and humility to Adam, i.e., humankind,
which he normally claims for Himself alone.
The second point addresses the starting point of the motivation for this com-
petition of humanity with other creatures. The narration was preceded by the
8 “Tawhid is the defining doctrine of Islam. It declares absolute monotheism—the unity

and uniqueness of God as creator and sustainer of the universe.” “Tawhid”, Oxford
Dictionary of Islam, ed. John Esposito, Retrieved Sept, 29, 2016 from “Oxford Islamic
Studies” http://www.oxfordislamicstudies.com/article/opr/t125/e2356?_hi=15&_pos=2
scenario of a competition between Adam and all of creation of which he knew

the names, that were in a sense competing with him in this context. This contest
involves demonstrating Adam’s superiority over other creatures by his knowing
“the names of all things” (2:31). Despite the initial objections and doubts of the
angels regarding humankind’s designation as God’s vicegerents on earth, they
finally obeyed God’s will and prostrated before Adam, except for Iblis (Satan)
who refused to prostrate himself due to his arrogance. Thereupon, he was banned
and cursed and turned from this moment on into the “anti-human force“ who is
to lead humanity astray from the “right path” (1:6) (Rahman, 1994, 12). Although
no human being is immune from the sabotage of the inner conflict, not even the
prophets or the Prophet Muhammad himself (7:200; 41:36), there is an inner force
within each human being that is able to resist this internal conflict.
These scenarios stress the point that humanity, i.e. men and women, obtain the
capacity of the intellect, a quality which all the other creatures lack. In the qur’anic
text, there is no reference to be found that stipulates an intellectual discrepancy
between males and females, but rather this narration conveys the fact that each
human being is able to help him or herself intellectually as a result of God’s intended
purpose, expressed within the concept of dignity. Thus, the lack of autonomy in this
context implies the withdrawal of the intellectual ability bestowed and expressed
in this prominent motif of the Qur’an. This point is essential to discuss, especially
when looking at the situation of women in Muslim societies, which systematically
predicate the oppression of women upon the erroneous assumption that “males and
females are different not merely in basic anatomy, but in elusive qualities of spirit,
soul, and intellect.. They are not supposed to do the same things, think the same
way, or share the same dreams and desires” (Wadud, 1999, 62).9
Another consequence relates to the natural disposition to righteousness, i.e.,
fiṭra. The human inner resistance against going astray is called fiṭra (30:30). This
quality can be understood as a “natural disposition” (Asad, 2011, 776) which
enables human beings to differentiate between good and bad, right and wrong,
and true and false. This natural disposition can be referred to as the wellspring of
belief which is to instruct humankind about the existence of God and his Oneness
from the moment of creation (see Asad, 2011, 776). Once this inner source of belief
within the person is exposed to outer influences, the connection between the self
and this source either becomes stronger or weaker. The following hadith from the
collection of al-Bukhari explains the concept of fiṭra more precisely: “Every child
is born with fiṭra and it is his or her parents who turn it into a Jew, a Christian or
9 Wadud, 1999, cited Carol Travis and Carol Wade from The Longest War: Sex Differences
in Perspective, (Orlando: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1984), 2.
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into a Sabaean” (Bukhārī 2012, 222, #1385). According to this concept, each person
bears both sides within themself—the human propensity for good and for bad as
well as the inner ability to fight against evil. Rahman (1994) postulates therefore,
that the “straight path” (1:6) or as it is often also translated “the middle path”, is
the only realistic path for a human to aspire to follow, as it fuses both dynamics of
the human self into one harmonious unit.
This ability clearly challenges the purpose of the husband’s intervention, as
recommended in the commentary to verse 4:34. This point of view seems to com-
pletely shut out the fact that this inner disposition towards the good as well as the
bad also affects men who themselves, according to the Qur’an, need to aspire to
an inner balance in order to obtain taqwā (righteousness or God consciousness).
The middle or straight path captures the very moment in which both parties
are represented in an act of balance. This act of balance reveals another qur’anic
characteristic of human nature, which is called taqwā. Taqwā is based on the
prerequisite of a sense of responsibility (Rahman, 1994). This term is traditionally
translated or interpreted as fear of God, in the sense of the “fear of a wolf” or mo-
tivated by punishment (Rahman, 1994, 20). However, the root of the term “taqwā”
derives from its Arabic root in the basic form w-q-a, i.e., “defending” (Majdi,
1996, 2) Hence, in comparison to the traditional approach, which connects taqwā
to fear and punishment, the roots seem to provide hints that suggest considering
responsibility for the awareness for both dimensions—the present and the hereafter.
Taqwā can be therefore also understood as the mechanism that tries to protect the
self from going astray (Rahman, 1994). Rahman (1994) designates this term “as
the most important single term in the Qur’ān. At its highest, it denotes the fully
integrated and whole personality of man …” (Rahman, 1994, 19). This thesis seems
to refer to Alī b. Abī Ṭālib’s conception of taqwā: “Taqwā is to fear the Almighty;
to act upon the Revelation; to be content with little and to prepare for the Day of
Travel” (Majdi, 1996, 2). Ibn Kathīr,10 Qurtūbī, Hassān, and Qutāda, on the other
hand, describe taqwā as the fulfilling of the divine commandments and refraining
from the forbidden (Majdi, 1996). As far as the self is concerned, it is understood as
the entity which is to bear the responsibility for one’s actions taken in this world,
in the hereafter. Hence, each human being is fully responsible for his or her own
actions and decisions. Following this starting point, there is no way for any kind
of intercession or saviorship. If we look back to the classical understanding of verse
4:34, which implies that the husband is to judge and punish his wife’s decisions
and actions, this interpretation seems to clearly conflict with this principle of the
person being fully autonomous, supported by the inner dispositions which underlie
10 Ibn Kathīr III, 1981, 477.

self-reflection and control, i.e., taqwā and the ability to improve—i.e., fitra. As soon
as a person, in this case the husband, is in charge of another person`s behavior he/
she is consequently put into the position of becoming jointly responsible as well as
an intermediary between the human being and God. The Qur’an, however, very
explicitly rejects any kind of intercession or saviorship:
All that they have ever yearned for awaits them with their Sustainer: such will
be the reward of the doers of good. And to this end, God will efface from their
record the worst that they ever did, and give them their reward in accordance
with the best that they were doing [in life]. Is not God enough for His servant?
And yet, they would frighten thee with those [imaginary divine powers which
they worship] beside Him! But he whom God lets go astray can never find any
guide. (39:34)
The next point addresses the Islamic profession of faith, the shahāda, itself. It already
suggests that faith must require freedom in the first place. The shahāda technically
constitutes the lowest common denominator of all Muslims, irrespective of all the
different approaches and understandings with regard to the divine text. Therefore,
it can be stated that bearing witness to the absolute Oneness of God, “There is no
God but God”, sets up the irreducible starting point of being Muslim. This starting
point is to be deepened by the following phases that move the oral witnessing to a
conscious witnessing (Lahbabi, 2011). The first stage enhances the oral witnessing
with rituals, for instance, the obligatory prayers or fasting (i.e., the five pillars of
Islam) that allow religion to occupy space in everyday life. The most crucial step
is followed by the third dimension—the intention. It is only the intention (niyya)
that distributes religious value to the actions taken in the second dimension. Only
the niyya “differentiates the motivation of the heart and the critical reflected
approval from the herd mentality” (Lahbabi, 2011, 75). If we reconsider the verse
4:34, it is clear that, in it, males are technically authorized to utilize violence in
order to lead wives back to the right or the middle path. The expected reform of
the wife reached by the active intervention of the husband as recommended in
the commentaries can consequently only be upheld on a level which shuts out the
“motivation of the heart”, i.e., conscious conviction resulting from of free choice
and autonomy—“Indeed, Allah will not change the condition of a people until they
change what is in themselves” (13:11).
The God-man communication in the frame of the qur’anic revelation can be
tied to this previously discussed principle of conscious conviction. The connecting
medium between transcendent power and humanity is referred to as signs (ayāt)
in the Qur’an. These are revealed in two different ways, but both ways derive from
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the initiative of God. One variant of revelation comprises, according to Izutsu,

the so-called “natural signs”, while the second type of communication is of verbal
nature, i.e., in terms of the revelations sent down to the prophets (Izutsu, 2008,
142). The acceptance as well as the rejection of these signs are exclusively subject
to the free will of each human being and are supposed to guide “men to the right
path by showing them ayah after ayah (…) which “begin to show their positive
effect only when man shows on his part a deep understanding” (Izutsu, 2008, 146).
Izutsu (2008) investigated the semantic field around the qur’anic term “ayā”.11
This resulted in the recognition that the term occurs in connection with the different
“aspects of understanding” of the divine revelation (tanzīl). The interesting point is
that the organ of understanding12 is according to the Qur’an expressed by the terms
lubb or qalb, i.e., the innermost kernel or heart. The analysis of the terms lubb or qalb
as well as the various related ways in which a person can interpret the verses, and
finally how each person will deal with them, supports the thesis of human pluralism
as part of the divine plan. These different ways and decisions of the heart are taken
into account in the Qur’an several times: “For, every community faces a direction
of its own, of which He is the focal point. Vie, therefore, with one another in doing
good works.” (2:148) (see also 49:13). Thus the paths and the endeavors towards
righteousness and the interpretations of what righteousness subjectively stands for,
are as plural as humankind itself. These different streams in turn flow together in
their common aims, i.e. “good works” instead of insisting on uniformity: “If unity
were the ideal, then why would God will disunity or difference?” (Lamptey, 2014,
162). In addition, if we look at the symbolic location of the organ of understanding,
its being internal appears to express its inaccessibility to third parties who may be
trying to produce or enforce their subjective convictions on another.
It would require completely objective assessment in order to truly understand
and to adjudicate these different approaches. This characteristic is according to
the Qur’an not a part of human ability, but rather explicitly something attributed
exclusively to God: “Everyone acts in a manner peculiar to himself and your Sus-
tainer is fully aware as to who has chosen the best path.” (17:84).
This skepticism regarding human ability to judge fairly and objectively constitutes
one of two main opinions with regard to polygamy in Islamic law. While the first and
dominant position allows polygamy under certain circumstances and rulings, the
second position clearly declares plural marriages to be prohibited. It is considered
a decree that was valid after the war of Uhud, which produced a high number of
11 Singular form of ayāt.

12 Examples for the mentioned different “aspects of understanding” are lexically expressed
with verbs aqala, fahima, tafakkara, tadhakarra, etc. (Izutsu, 2008, 147)
widows in a time in which women were not yet able to sustain themselves and their
children and where women would have been exploited for their weak position in
society. However, the basic argument against polygamy according to the scholars
who regard it as outdated, i.e., for instance, Muhammad Abduh, is based on the
qur’anic statement that humans can never be objective and fair towards others. This
argument is based on a verse that can be used as a proof for the annulment of the
verse that actually allows polygamy (4:3). It says: “And it will not be within your
power to treat your wives with equal fairness, however much you may desire it; …”
(4:129). Tunisia is the only Muslim country that prohibits polygamy by law.13 This
attitude is based on the argument with regard to the unjust nature of humanity.
Thus, in the case of polygamy the question of the validity of this degree is questioned
from two angles—the first one questions its validity based on contextual reasons,
the second takes the characteristics of humankind into account which in the end
eliminates the qur’anic permission for polygamy. If we look back to the classical
understanding of 4:34, it is exactly this weakness (see also 18:103-105; 2:11-12) that
is taken as the basis of argumentation, namely a man’s ability to judge his wife’s
actions. In the case of polygamy, there is one out of two positions that prohibit the
qur’anic permission due to a certain human characteristic. In the case of verse 4:34
the very same human characteristic is used to justify or legalize violence and the
related disempowerment of women.
Conclusion
I mentioned at the beginning of this chapter the relevance of discussing the practices
of the Jahiliyya in order to make Islam’s dramatic improvements to the situation
of women more visible. Due to the fact that many of these improvements were lost
through reversion to previous Jahiliyya practices, the achievements of Islam in
effecting actual changes do not seem obvious to us today. I would like to make my
point by giving a concrete example. As already stated in this chapter, men in pre-Is-
lamic time, and also during the lifetime of the Prophet Muhammad, would marry
and remarry as often and as many women as they wished. Women were exposed to
male despotism from which not even marriage could protect them. Islam countered
this issue with restrictions, for example, restricting the number of wives to four.
13 http://passblue.com/2015/07/09/tunisian-women-feel-their-rights-eroding/ [Retrieved
April 7, 2016]; However, after the revolution of 2011, the topic of polygamy and the ways
to legalize it have attracted new attention among the supporters of the Islamists.
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190 Ranja Ebrahim
Also divorce was put into a framework that demanded serious reconsideration and
critical reflection on the individual situations in marriages, rather than the mere
pursuit of one’s own moods and desires. These measures drew on the habits of that
era, but at the same time intended to prevent the arbitrariness that was common
in the society in regard to marriage and divorce practices.
A similar perspective might help in approaching verse 4:34. Violence and the
misuse of power positions were standard practices in pre-Islamic Arabia and did
not completely disappear with the rise of Islam. This verse treats the issues of plural
marriage, and tries to restrict or prevent the usage of physical violence gradually
by advancing preliminary steps to take before actually utilizing violence. If Islam
intended a quick abolition of the habits, customs, and traditions that Arabs were used
to, it seems quite likely that the growth of Islam would not have been as successful.
Evidently, addressing social issues regarding sexism, racism, and other negative
inequalities within Arabian society constituted a large segment of the content of
the Prophet’s famous farewell sermon (khutbat al-wida’ ̔ ̣), This fact suggests that
despite the endeavors of the Prophet in fighting these injustices, they still lingered
in the consciousness of the people around him.
Verily in the sight of Allah, the most honored amongst you is the one who is
most God-fearing. There is no superiority for an Arab over a non- Arab and
for a non-Arab over an Arab or for the white over the back or for the black over
the white, except in God- consciousness. […] Every claim of privilege, whether
that of blood or property, us under my heels ….14
Restrictions alone do not sustainably solve problems nor would this meet the re-
quirements of the Qur’an’s claim to be valid for all times and places. This requires
a reconsideration of deadlocked ideas and traditions.
The first consideration would direct us to undertake a critical reflection on his-
torical periods of Islamic rule that are widely considered glorious and triumphant.
With the establishment of dynastic succession and the related expansion of the
empire, the improvement of women’s status in society did not last long since Islam
and Muslims encountered different cultural and traditional customs that led to the
deterioration of the the roles and status of women. The education of women was
minimized to consist of the basic knowledge of religious rites and memorization
of the Qur’an just as their main role regressed to “be good and obedient wives and
mothers” (Jawad, 1998, 25). The education of women was then regarded as leading
14 Translation taken from http://www.scholaris.com/islam/learning/PDF/DAE25_Fare-

well_Sermon_of_Prophet_Muhammad_SAW.pdf [accessed April 16, 2016]
to “an increase of depravity” (Jawad, 1998, 25).15 The state of mind at that time is
traceable in the intellectual approaches which largely determine our contemporary
understanding of the Qur’an. Thus, in order to rehabilitate women’s image and po-
sition in society today, a redefinition of the theological starting point is required by
looking at contemporary issues from an appropriate angle while being sensitive to the
time, place, and context of their occurrence. The most critical fact about the impact
of classical commentaries today is the “tendency to attribute these interpretations
to the Qur’an itself rather to the authors who formulated them” (Wadud, 1999, 35).
This point is directly followed by the next claim, which concerns the usage and
the interpretation of certain qur’anic words. For example, the terms qānitāt and
nushūz that occur in verse 4:34 demonstrate this issue. In the classical tafsīrs that
I presented at the beginning of the text, the term qānitāt is consensually translated
as obedient, or obedient to the husband. Wadud (1999) points out that this word
occurs in the Qur’an quite frequently in reference to both males and females. Now
the interesting fact about the semantic analysis of this adjective is the recipient of
this alleged obedience. In the cases16 where the word is used, whether in the male
or in the female form, each refers to a human characteristic which is attributed to
the believers. Obedience is in this case directed to God and imposed on those who
wish to follow His commandments. The way classical commentaries use the word
qānitāt is rather in accordance with the word ṭa ̔ a, that is to refer to obedience to
created things. Thus, the claim that wives have to be obedient in the sense of them
being qānitāt, i.e., through their obedience to another creation, is theologically a
grave error. It can be observed that a similar strategy is used with the term nushūz
which is, according to the classical tafsīrs, interpreted as meaning disobedience to the
husband. Like the term qānitāt, nushūz is used to refer to both males and females.
However the usage of this term in the classical commentaries shows an apparent
asymmetry in its interpretation, clearly to the detriment of women (Wadud, 1999).
In summary, attitudes and approaches that seem to systematically undermine
equality between men and women by manipulating the meaning of qur’anic terms
are highly critical for our analysis as they artificially constitute values that may even
contradict qur’anic teachings. This means that they underlie ideas and traditions
that declare a “primordial distinction between males and females” thus abrogating
the whole concept of autonomy and consequently the ability to exercise free will and
other characteristics that are implicitly connected to the essential idea of dignity
15 Jawad (1998) cites J.S. Szyliowicz, (1973). Education and Modernization in the Middle
East. (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press), 58.
16 The word used referring to females in the Qur’an: (4:34, 33:34, 66:5, 66:12); referring to
males: (2:238, 3:17, 33:35)
191
192 Ranja Ebrahim
as discussed in this chapter (Wadud, 1999, 62). The consequences can be seen in
many societies in which religious traditions play a central role in personal, social,
and political life. I would like to give two examples that go beyond well-known
restrictions such as dress codes and underrepresentation of women in politics:
The first one addresses the issue of freedom of mobility with an Egyptian ex-
ample. According to Egyptian law, a woman cannot travel freely and “a guardian
male must approve a female’s passport”.17 This law is based on a hadith that reads
as follows: ”Women are not to travel except with a mahram [male guardian]” (al-
Bukhari, 2012, # 3006). Even though the Egyptian constitution declares women
equal to men, and despite the untiring endeavors of the National Council for
Women, along with several NGOs in order to abolish this law, the government’s
fear of triggering unrest within the society has hindered any developments towards
establishing women’s freedom of mobility.
The second example addresses discrimination in education as a consequence of
the issue discussed above. Saudi Arabia has over the last decade caught up as far
as female education and employment18 are concerned. However, access to higher
educational institutions is still a hurdle for women living in rural areas due to
encumbrances with regard to female travel and mobility in general. Even if edu-
cation is to a certain extent open to both males and females, certain gender and
religious-based restrictions hinder rural women from exercising these freedoms
that are actually provided by the state.
These grievances flourish on the basis of the failure to recognize incapacitation
and lack of autonomy as a kind of violence, especially on the part of organizations
that are supposed to address violence. The WHO fact sheet on “violence against
women”19 shows very clearly that the understanding of violence against women
articulated on this sheet only deals with tip of the iceberg. According to the most
recent fact sheet (2016), reported violations are of “intimate partner violence” which
are exclusively defined as being of a “physical and/or sexual” nature. Depriving
women of autonomy or, as the sheet inappropriately summarizes it, “attitudes
accepting of violence and gender inequality” are only addressed as “factors” that
might cause or motivate violence in the concrete sense in which it is expressed
above, rather than addressing depriving women of autonomy as an actual form
of violence. This way of downplaying the relevance of personal freedom actually
17 http://womensenews.org/2001/04/egyptians-seek-right-travel-without-male-ok/ [Re-
trieved Sept. 9, 2016]
18 The number of employed women between 2010 and 2015 has increase up to 50% [Re-
trieved Sept. 9, 2016]
19 http://www.who.int/mediacentre/factsheets/fs239/en/ [Retrieved Sept. 9, 2016]
distracts from looking at gender issues from a broader perspective and then merely
treating the overt symptoms. In contrast to the status of autonomy according to
the WHO fact sheets, the preamble of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights
(1948)20 bases its tenets on “dignity … of the equal and inalienable rights of all
members of the human family”, giving fundamental significance to equality and
autonomy by including an explicit dedication “dignity in rights” in its first article.
In summary, it is time that the relevant overlap between modern Western un-
derstandings of dignity and autonomy and Islamic understandings be recognized,
so that on the basis of these common factors, gender inequality in Muslim societies
and all forms of ensuing violence, whether physical, psychological, emotional, or
spiritual, can be effectively challenged and ameliorated.
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Responding to the Marrakesh Declaration
with a United States Declaration
A Call to Preserve and Protect Muslim Civil Rights
Jason Renken
This chapter seeks to identify the benefits of Christianity and other religions in
the United States authoring a United States Declaration for the protection of the
rights and liberties of Muslims in this country, as a way of mirroring the January
2016 authorship of the Marrakesh Declaration, which called for the protection of
non-Muslim religious minorities in Muslim majority states throughout the world .
The justification for this thesis is that the years since 2001, including the especially
contentious rhetoric surrounding the presidential election of 2016, have included a
steady increase in “Islamophobia” through both general negative attitudes toward
Islam and specific violent or hate-fi lled acts that fall under this heading . Islam-
ophobia here is defined as the fear of, and discrimination against, the religion of
Islam as a whole or its adherents, the approximately 3 .3 million Muslims of the
United States (Mohammed, 2016) .
This uptick has been especially noticeable since 2010 due to many factors . One
of the most publicized was the now defunct Cordoba House effort, also known as
Park51 or the “Ground Zero Mosque” controversy of 2010 (Patel, 2012) .1 Eboo Patel
points to the controversy surrounding this masjid and Muslim community center
in Lower Manhattan as reminding many of the horrors of September 11 (Patel,
2012) . The original proposal to construct a condominium and Muslim museum
at the Park51 site has been abandoned . The Cordoba Initiative retains its legacy of
dialogue, owing its name to the city of Cordoba that flourished during the period
of conviviality among Jews, Christians, and Muslims in al-Andalus in tenth and
eleventh-century Spain .
1 The year 2010 is cited by Eboo Patel in a number of his writings and addresses as a
bellwether of what would follow in coming years . See especially Chapter 1 of his Sacred
Ground: Pluralism, Prejudice, and the Promise of America .
195
196 Jason Renken
Six years later, on the cusp of another United States presidential election, the
main candidates, Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton, highlighted this same uptick,
yielding much more dangerous trends of Islamophobia than even 2010 or the past
presidential election cycle of 2012 between Mitt Romney and incumbent Barack
Obama. Direct or indirect threats of comprehensive monitoring, registering, or
identifiable markers for Muslims and their mosques, or even the possibility of
deportation or immigration barriers, have routinely been touted by certain candi-
dates, their staff members, supporters, and the media at large. The classic thesis of
Samuel Huntington, that there is now in place an eventual “clash of civilizations”
between the West and the Muslim world, appears more relevant than ever to many
as a point of alarm.
Yet responding further to isolationist calls to bar foreign nationals en masse
misses the mark and oversimplifies complex geopolitical realities. I do not claim here
to evaluate the complexities of the policies and procedures regarding immigrants,
refugees, and displaced persons. Instead, I wish to express the proactive benefits of
a parallel statement to the Marrakesh Declaration that would stand in solidarity,
first with Muslims already present as citizens and residents in the United States, and
second with those who face regimes that drive them elsewhere, such as Syria over
the past five years. At the same time, since many in the United States improperly
link “Muslim” or “refugee” with “potential terrorist,” there is an ethical imperative
for religious entities of the United States not to turn away Muslims who now face
increased questions of belonging, despite second, third, and fourth generations of
immigrants that have arrived since the mid-1960s. This imperative is rooted in the
words of the perhaps unlikely source, Ronald Reagan, who in 1981 defended the
welcoming of refugees fleeing persecution in their home states:
We shall continue America’s tradition as a land that welcomes peoples from other
countries. We shall also, with other countries, continue to share in the responsibility
of welcoming and resettling those who flee oppression. (Reagan, 1981)
For many, the imagined threat of Islam cloaks itself in patriotic and borderline jin-
goistic language reminiscent of bygone eras of anti-Jewish, anti-Catholic, and other
destructive sentiments. Often, this threat becomes synonymous with a distinction
between “good” and “bad” Muslims, the bad being those that are somehow more
susceptible to “radicalization.”
What is often forgotten in the political milieu of 2016 is the capability of reli-
gions and their leaders to stand against social evils in the past, examples of this
are their role in the abolition of slavery and the civil rights movement being chief
among them in the United States. The free exercise clause of the First Amendment
Responding to the Marrakesh Declaration with a United States Declaration 197
to the Constitution protects the practice of any religion or no religion, along with
the prohibition against the establishment of a national religion. When the welfare
of individuals from one religion is threatened, there should be a corresponding
reminder of the protection of their safety under the fundamental rights guaranteed
by the Constitution. I argue that there is now a theological and ethical imperative
for Christians especially (since they constitute a majority in the United States) to
reiterate this openness for all here present or seeking religious asylum by responding
in kind to the Marrakesh Declaration.
***
In January 2016, 250 Muslim religious and political leaders met in Marrakesh,
Morocco. Gathered together by King Muhammad VI of Morocco, Sheikh Ab-
dallah bin Bayyah, and the United Arab Emirates Forum for Promoting Peace
in Muslim Societies, their purpose was to issue a declaration on the rights of
minority religious populations in Muslim-majority states, ultimately titled: “The
Rights of Religious Minorities in Predominantly Muslim Majority Communities”
(Marrakesh Declaration, 2016) known for short as the “Marrakesh Declaration.”
Christianity is naturally the first religion that was under consideration, and many
Christian leaders were also present at the three-day symposium that culminated
in the issuing of this document.
At the beginning, the Marrakesh Declaration states that its original impetus
for composition was the Charter of Medina, a Muslim constitution drawn up by
the Prophet Muhammad and his companions in Medina in 622 CE. This charter
was drawn up in the initial period following his hijra, or migration from Mecca
to Medina, to protect Jews and others living among the newly organized Muslim
community. While ultimately not a document that took on major standing in
decades to come, it does underscore the necessity of both inclusion and protection
of Jews in Medina and for all non-Muslims present in Muslim regions. (Medina
Charter, 622) It is explicit in its decree:
God’s protection is one, the least of them may give protection to a stranger on their
behalf. Believers are friends one to the other to the exclusion of outsiders. To the
Jew who follows us belong help and equality. He shall not be wronged nor shall his
enemies be aided (Medina Charter, 622, clauses 15-16).
While owing allegiance to Muhammad as a political authority in Medina, the charter

also recognizes that those non-Muslims living among him and his followers are
a part of this plural society. Muhammad and his companions were under duress
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198 Jason Renken
before fleeing Mecca, so to react with compassion and empathy towards the new
minorities in their midst was certainly admirable and advisable.
In this spirit, the Marrakesh Declaration of 2016 invokes democratic principles
similar to those that the Medinan charter had advocated fourteen centuries earlier.
The charter’s promises of the free exercise of religion and peaceful co-existence
for Jews and others in Medina are echoed in the second clause of the Marrakesh
Declaration. This declaration also rightly describes how often politically motivated
violence is used as a tool that decimates governments and empowers criminal groups
to grossly distort the religion of Islam (Marrakesh Declaration, 2016). This coin-
cides with the need to reiterate the true non-violent beliefs of Muslims in contrast
to those who co-opt Islam to advance processes of radicalization.
It furthermore parallels another recent document which illustrates in a point-by-
point manner how the actions of the Islamic State contravene the Qur’an, hadiths
(or sayings) of Muhammad, and the fundamental precepts of Islamic jurisprudence:
the Open Letter of Muslim scholars and religious leaders to Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi,
head of the Islamic State (Open Letter, 2014). The Marrakesh Declaration under
discussion here is cognizant of this open letter’s much more expansive and the-
ologically incisive critique of the Islamic State and other terrorist groups falsely
claiming to represent Islam.
The Marrakesh Declaration then continues by enumerating the protections of
the Charter of Medina, including “a number of the principles of constitutional
contractual citizenship, such as freedom of movement, property ownership, mutual
solidarity and defense, as well as principles of justice and equality before the law”
(Marrakesh Declaration, 2016). This also is stated as conforming to the United
Nations Charter of 1945 and the Universal Declaration of Human Rights of 1948
(Marrakesh Declaration, 2016).
The declaration next references “A Common Word Between Us and You,” the
2007 letter of 138 Muslim scholars to then-Pope Benedict XVI emphasizing the
values of love of God and love of neighbor that Islam shares with Christianity,
and continues by insisting upon full protection for the rights and liberties of all
religious groups (Marrakesh Declaration, 2016). A series of recommendations to
scholars follows, which includes the following summary points: 1) the appropria-
tion of Muslim jurisprudence that is inclusive of diversity; 2) a review of Muslim
educational materials; 3) a reminder to politicians and policy makers to underscore
these religious protections in constitutional decrees; 4) an open invitation for the
larger society to take up the cause of justice and human rights; 5) retention of the
knowledge of a shared interreligious history as a means of combating terrorism
and violence; 6) the imploring of all religions to soundly condemn persecution and
all forms of hate speech towards others; and 7) the total condemnation of any form
of oppression of religious minorities in Muslim countries (Marrakesh Declaration,

2016). These calculated points are beneficial to track and follow in a similar way
when considering the key elements of a United States Declaration to preserve and
protect the civil rights of Muslims.
Coverage of the Marrakesh Declaration by the West, including the United
States, has been met by the media with the same woefully inadequate response that
past Muslim statements against religiously motivated violence and terrorism have
encountered: minor at best. This is despite many religious scholars who recognize
that statements, fatwas (or Muslim religious rulings), and similar condemnations of
violence have been promulgated regularly, preceding and following the September
11, 2001, terrorist attacks. This provokes one dangerous strain that allows Islamo-
phobia to continue: stating that no Muslims have stood up to condemn terrorism,
expressed often in the vexing question, “Where are all the moderate Muslims?” or
“Why do we not hear all acts of terrorism being soundly condemned?”
Among many others, sociologist Charles Kurzman of the University of North
Carolina has compiled an extensive list of national and international Muslim
organizations that strongly deplored September 11 (Kurzman, 2012). At many
places referenced on his personal webpage, empirical evidence and news stories
have confirmed that “Islamic terrorism” as a veritable threat in the United States
is skewed heavily out of proportion with its actual danger. Put simply, terrorism
feeds on fear, regardless of whether a threat is real or imagined.
Yet Kurzman’s and other noble efforts have failed to dispel the false perceptions
that Muslims do not condemn terrorism. Prominent statements by the Islamic
Society of North America and the Council on American-Islamic Relations, as well
as other regional Muslim organizations and local masjids, although buttressing the
multiple messages of Muslim theologians and activists of nonviolence, are rarely
heard or propagated through the media on a consistent basis.2 The United States
public cannot help it if there is a media blackout on these condemnations, which
translates into an even stronger reason for individual and collective non-Muslim
religious leaders to take on a leadership stance to ensure that these voices are heard
and Muslim communities thereby protected.
In the wake of the Marrakesh Declaration and its comprehensive recommenda-
tions for Muslim majority countries, I maintain that a United States Declaration
should be drafted, one that draws similar defenses for the legal and civil rights of
Muslims. The following analysis will accomplish two tasks. First, I will state what
2 See www.isna.net and www.cair.com for up-to-date statistical data, statements, and
responses strongly condemnatory of terrorism perpetrated “in the name of” Islam or
otherwise.
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200 Jason Renken
complementary protections such a declaration may include. Second, I will state how
this (and the Marrakesh Declaration) fit into the model of social theorist Jürgen
Habermas’ turn to the capacity of religion for mediating the roles of the religious
and the secular in civil society. This also demonstrates reciprocity with Muslim
minorities as a viable political ethos in a Christian (and secular) majority society
and basis for future dialogue. It further coheres with Habermas’ recommendation
for religion’s engagement in the public square. Finally, this maneuver may also serve
as a sign of solidarity in returning to and defending the constitutional protections
and rights of Muslims in the United States.
The question becomes: What would such a United States Declaration for the
protection of Muslim minorities look like? Ideally, it would restate the above con-
stitutional protections of freedom from the establishment of a national religion and
the ability of all citizens to choose whether to adhere to or abstain from identifying
with any religion. In the shifting political atmosphere of late 2016, this would be
open for all religious and political entities to adopt, although national and state
judicatories and leaders from both would be the primary signatories. Nothing would
prevent members of individual communities or houses of worship from adding
their endorsements. In fact, this local support is a necessary step in guaranteeing
Muslim allies at the grassroots level. It is here that could occur one of the greatest
strengths of building community partnerships with masjids and strengthening
existing ministerial associations and interfaith alliances, as has already occurred
throughout the United States in the past fifteen years since September 11, 2001.
A list of protections parallel to the Marrakesh Declaration in the United States
Declaration would be open for all to affirm, but specifically with a preamble that
governmental and religious leaders have a specific and parallel responsibility and
mandate to carry out this civic and religious duty with an eye to the sustained
preservation of the rights of Muslim minorities in the United States. The rising
threat of Islamophobia and the history of past persecution of racial and religious
minorities in the United States would be cited as important considerations.
Then, under this aegis, the possible points to include become very similar to
the above points contained within the Marrakesh Declaration: 1) the Constitution
and Bill of Rights as safeguarding all, including religious minorities; 2) a review
of existing educational materials about Islam and Muslims in schools and houses
of worship; 3) a reminder to establish state and local protections consistent with
national protections; 4) a renewed and bipartisan effort toward dialogue on recent
political polarizations that have evinced fear and anger, particularly the results of
the 2016 election; 5) an emphasis upon using a dialogical approach in schools, both
public and private, to ensure that all are welcomed; 6) a reevaluation of media and
social media efforts to condemn the violence and exclusion that begin at home and
most especially in the earliest years of the lives of children. Again, these are merely
some initial suggestions for how such a declaration would look. The tasks here are
many and sufficient respect and recognition should be given to already existing
structures that have dedicated resources to any of the above, so as not to duplicate
already accomplished success.
The next question follows: Who would publish the initial declaration? Ideally,
national religious bodies, such as the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops,
the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the USA, and various Jewish,
Buddhist, Hindu, and Secular Humanist organizations and their various congre-
gations could do so. There is nothing to prevent interfaith organizations such as
Religions for Peace USA and numerous other grassroots non-profit religious and
secular organizations from doing the same. Schools at all levels are certainly an ideal
audience, and this also may yield more dedicated education on civic responsibility
in a pluralist society. Stephen Prothero, in his Religious Literacy: What Every Amer-
ican Needs to Know—and Doesn’t (Prothero, 2007), describes what has led to the
dearth of education about religion in the United States. A United States Declaration
could work against the trend of ignorance about the right of freedom of religion
by exploring how this freedom has been protected in the past and present. Perhaps
even guiding institutions, such as governmental organizations, municipalities, and
corporations are potential allies, willing to stand upon the democratic principles of
guaranteeing the rights and safety of Muslims in our midst. The primary authors
should remain religions and their leaders.
In the current precarious political and civic life of the United States, such a
bold act may be viewed positively by the world, especially as a good faith effort
for Muslim majority states and Muslim minorities in other states. It also fits the
evolution of the dialogical stance that the social theorist Jürgen Habermas recog-
nizes as imperative between the religious and the secular. Where Enlightenment
reason and the convictions of faith formerly were at odds in their ignorance of
one another, Habermas urges that the “post-secular” and “post-metaphysical” age
renew its encounter with religion, especially in the speech upon his acceptance of
the 2001 Frankfurt peace prize, his dialogue with four Jesuit academics in 2007
(Fish, 2010), and elsewhere.
In 2001, Habermas stated that modernization was to blame for much of the
anguish that many feel in many non-Western societies (Welton, 2015). Religions
must come face to face with their consciences and inability to ascribe meaning
on the secular plane, but similarly, reason must recognize its post-Enlightenment
failure to exhaustively respond to the problems and perils of modern existence. I
think that responses such as the Marrakesh and proposed United States Declara-
tions are the beginning of a new type of language, a new “speech act” that allows
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202 Jason Renken
common ground while limiting the ability of the secular to swallow up religion
and the religious to swallow up the secular.
Moreover, by recognizing the inherent bounds established in the church/mas-
jid-state separation, there is the allowance for religious voices in the “unregulated
public sphere” that is both permitted and encouraged (Mercier and Knuth, 2014).
This is stated by political philosopher John Rawls as being part of the necessary
work of religious bodies, but Habermas appropriates it in the service of translating
a different religious approach (dogmatic) that must be brought to the political,
or liberal, process (Mercier and Knuth, 2014). Here is where the fruit of such a
“mixed” document as the United States Declaration can be found. The democratic
process can check dogmatic worldviews but still see such principles as fundamental
restatements of constitutionally given rights. The translation process in carrying
out the promises of the declaration is the creative work that must be undertaken
by all parties concerned.
Ultimately, religious leaders of the United States, chief among them Christians
due to their vast majority status, are charged to do more than simply speak out
against Islamophobia. While past generations of Jews, Catholics, and other religious
minorities have faced persecutions, hate crimes, and violations of their civil rights
in the United States, a United States Declaration formally recognizes the wave of
Muslim immigration since the 1960s as indicative of a similar pattern of arrival,
assimilation, and tension to adjust as a minority religion and culture. This should
be met first by overcoming Islamophobic tendencies and secondly by explicitly
welcoming Muslims to our neighborhoods without fear and prejudice, guided
by the same ideals that welcomed past generations of immigrants to the United
States. Demonstrations of public non-violent resistance may be necessary, and it
is impossible to tell in late 2016 if a United States Declaration will need to take a
bold stand against a Muslim registry, as incendiary as such a suggestion would have
appeared a few years ago. For religions to fail to protect the civil rights of Muslims
and masjids at this juncture would be a travesty.
Such a declaration now fits with what Jürgen Habermas has recognized as the
political cache that religious communities possess (Habermas, 2006) while retaining
an open dialogue with the secular institution of government. As the millennial
generation ages and begins to raise children of their own, it is becoming increasingly
clear that this new generation will be looked upon as either much more or much
less tolerant than its parents and grandparents. It is now the ethical responsibility
of religions and their leaders to carry out this much needed task.
References
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Habermas, Jürgen (2006). Religion in the public sphere. European Journal of Philosophy,
14(1):1-25. Retrieved March 20, 2016 from http://citeseerx.ist.psu.edu/viewdoc/down-
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November 25, 2016 from http://kurzman.unc.edu/islamic-statements-against-terrorism/
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medina/con_medina.htm
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take on religion. World Religion Watch. http://www.world-religion-watch.org/index.php/
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faith-and-knowledge/
203
Section III:
Religious Education
and the Challenge of Violence
Against Religiously Motivated Violence
Religious Education’s Contribution to Peaceful
Relationships between Diﬀerent Religions—
What Should it Entail and How Can it Be Evaluated?
Friedrich Schweitzer
It is probably fair to say that expectations regarding Religious Education in both

the political sphere and among the general public have changed in ways that are
responsive to elements of the contemporary situation . Increasingly, Religious Edu-
cation is now expected to be a remedy for reducing religiously motivated violence .
This can be seen, for example, in European policies which used to completely
neglect religious education but, especially since 9/11, have clearly opened up to
this topic (for an overview, see Schreiner, 2012) . Today, many politicians seem to
expect religious education to contribute to peace and consequently to work against
religiously motivated violence .
In my understanding, this expectation is ambivalent . On the one hand, it implies
a new appreciation of “Religious Education” as a school subject—and as a religious
educator naturally I am grateful for this new attitude towards a field that has tended
to be neglected in European politics . On the other hand, the new appreciation can
be viewed as an attempt to use this subject for purposes that have little to do with
religion or with religious motives, but instead primarily arise from societal needs .
If this holds true, Religious Education would be instrumentalized for purposes that
are not its own . In the case of Islamic Religious Education as a new school curric-
ular subject in Germany, Muslim religious educators have rightfully pointed out
that the purpose of Islamic Religious Education must be seen, in the first place, in
its contribution to education, not in its possible value for such societal or political
needs as integration or the prevention of violence (cf . for example, Ucar, 2010) .
Moreover, the respective demands concerning Religious Education often appear
to be based on the one-sided assumption that religion is responsible for violence
while, in fact, violence can never be explained by only looking at the religious mo-
tives involved . Time and again, the respective analyses concerning, for example,
the situation in the Near East or in Northern Ireland have shown that there are
always other, i .e ., non-religious factors involved in the tensions arising between
207
208 Friedrich Schweitzer
different groups—political and economic factors as well as ideological factors such

as, for example, racism and ethnocentrism. Religion has never been the sole cause
for violence and aggressive conflict, even if religious references undoubtedly have
played a prominent role in many cases.
Yet, even if the demand that Religious Education should work against religiously
motivated violence must be considered ambivalent, it would be difficult to find good
reasons for the claim that religious educators should not get involved in working
against violence. Most of all, violence must be counteracted not only for political,
All religions—and notably Christianity, Judaism, and Islam—do at least include
some kind of peace ethics and it seems time to put a clear focus on these ethics for
good religious or theological reasons. It should be noted that major representatives
from different religions and from Religious Education have made clear statements
concerning the role of their faith in creating an education of peace (see, for example,
Nipkow, 2003; Jackson & Fujiwara, 2005). Moreover, in the view of today’s phi-
losophies of education in general, contributing to peace and to peaceful attitudes
should be a basic aim of all education. It would therefore not make sense to claim a
place for religion in education while denying its role for peace and against violence.
Based on these general considerations it seems quite obvious that Religious
Education should make working against all religiously motivated violence one of
its tasks. There is no need to repeat the many reasons for this here, be they religious
or non-religious reasons. Instead I want to consider a more specific question that
is of crucial importance for all attempts at working against religiously motivated
violence. This question is simple and rather straightforward: What can Religious
Education really do in this respect? Which efforts can be expected to be effective?
The importance of these questions is not based on the—mistaken—assumption
that there have been no suggestions for this task in the past. Even if it has, in fact,
taken Religious Education a long time to arrive at a clear position in this regard (cf.
Nipkow, 2003), education for peace has become a central concern for this subject in
many countries. Yet until today, there has been very little evidence concerning the
efficacy of what religious educators are trying to do in order to prevent religiously
motivated violence. However, while good intentions are one thing, achieving the
desired effects is another. This is why my focus in the following chapter will be on
how the effects of Religious Education working against religiously motivated vio-
lence can be evaluated. This complex question cannot be answered for all possible
aspects of Religious Education in a single chapter; I will therefore concentrate on
one of these aspects that I consider central to the task at hand.
I will proceed in two steps. First, I will address the question of what Religious
Education can contribute to peaceful relationships between different religions
from a theoretical point of view. The results from this analysis are presupposed for
Against Religiously Motivated Violence 209
my second step in which I will discuss some possibilities for empirical research in
this field by presenting one of the on-going research projects from my own insti-
tute at the University of Tübingen in Germany. This procedure implies that I will
not address all possible forms of religiously motivated violence, but instead only
those forms that are related to tensions among different religions. Considering,
for example, religiously motivated forms of possibly violent resistance against
totalitarian governments or other political representatives or institutions—a case
that, with National Socialism, has played an important role in German Religious
Education—would be another topic that cannot be dealt with here. Finally, I will
concentrate on Religious Education in the context of the school (the capitalized
spelling of Religious Education indicates this reference to the school subject). Other
fields of religious education in the context of religious institutions or of groups
and movements related to civil society can also play an important role in working
against religiously motivated violence, but since their presuppositions are clearly
different from school contexts, they will not be addressed in this article.
1 Theoretical Considerations: How can Religious

Education Contribute to Peaceful Relationships
between Different Religions?
As can be seen from the field’s literature, this question has received quite a bit of
attention. In many cases, interreligious education is connected to peace education.
Pioneering models in this respect first came from the United Kingdom. For example,
the well-known Birmingham Syllabus advocated a new kind of Religious Education
open to different religions and became one of the basic models for today’s mul-
ti-faith Religious Education in England and Wales (c.f. Hull, 1984; also cf. Copley,
2003). Well-known examples from Germany and Central Europe are the Nürnberg
Forums on intercultural and inter-religious education (Lähnemann, 2007) and the
Global Ethics project developed by Hans Küng (Küng, 1991; for Religious Education:
Lähnemann, 1995). A more recent example was the REDCo project carried out
about ten years ago by colleagues from Religious Education in several countries
(Jackson et al., 2007 and the resulting series published by Waxmann publishing
house). REDCo stands for “Religious Education: A Contribution to Dialogue or a
Factor of Conflict in Transforming Societies of European Countries”—a project
title that clearly shows the interest in peace education.
In terms of publications, two handbooks deserve special mention. The first
handbook on interreligious education was published in German in 2005 (Schreiner,
209
Sieg & Elsenbast, 2005). It includes a broad theoretical survey of this emerging
field as well as many examples with practical experiences. The second handbook
was published five years later (Engebretson et al., 2010). Its scope is international,
including two comprehensive parts that are of special interest in the present con-
text, one on “Inter-religious Education for Social Justice and Peace” (597-864) and
one on “Inter-religious Education for Citizenship and Human Rights” (865-1152).
Many of the articles in these handbooks are related to more far-reaching theoretical
analyses in monographs (for example, Hull, 1984; Jackson et al., 2007; Afdal, 2006;
Leganger-Krogstad, 2011; from my own German context: Nipkow, 1998; Lähnemann,
2007; Leimgruber, 2007; Schambeck, 2013). In a recent monograph I myself have
also tried to contribute to this understanding (Schweitzer, 2014).
At least in terms of theory, interreligious education has become an established
field within Religious Education. At the same time, attempts to find out if the
aims identified for interreligious education can in fact be reached in practice
have remained remarkably rare. Such attempts must be based on research designs
that make it possible to collect data that allow for a critical evaluation of models,
materials and practical experiences that are based on the best intentions or try to
draw on very sound educational reasons. For an evaluation it is not the intentions
that count, but instead the actual outcomes, which may always differ from the
aims stated in theory or even by practitioners. Strictly speaking, there have only
been a handful of projects that fulfill this requirement. To my knowledge, the first
study of this kind was carried out by Carl Sterkens in the Netherlands (Sterkens,
2001). A more recent example comes from Hans-Georg Ziebertz and his team in
Germany (Ziebertz, 2010). At least in part, the Austrian study by Gerog Ritzer
can also be mentioned here (Ritzer, 2010), although its scope is much broader, i.e.,
an investigation concerning a number of different effects of Religious Education,
so that interreligious education is not at the center of this study. In a different but
related way, Finnish studies have taken up the question of “interreligious sensitivity”
(Holm, Nokelainen & Tirri, 2014). Finally, I want to mention the ongoing research
on interreligious competence at my own Tübingen institute on which I will draw
in the next section of this chapter (also cf. Losert, Merkt & Schweitzer, 2015 for a
similar project related to the context of training future caregivers).
Based on the research and the discussions in the publications and projects men-
tioned above, it is probably fair to say that Religious Education at school can first
of all address cognitive aspects that are of relevance in this context (this is one of
Ritzer’s main results, cf. Ritzer, 2010). While, for example, peace groups operating
in civil society can bring together especially motivated young people from countries
or groups that are hostile to each other (for example, Yablon, 2010), the possibilities
for schools are much more limited. Schools have to work with groups of pupils that
have very different motives, interests, and political attitudes, and the pedagogical
framework, which is obligatory for most schools, only allows for certain kinds of
activities, most of which are related to cognitive learning processes. This is why
their possibilities are limited. Yet, these possibilities should not be underestimated.
They may only be cognitive, but this does not mean that they are not important.
Furthermore, schools have an advantage over all special interest groups in that
they reach basically all young people; this also gives Religious Education at school
a special potential.
On a cognitive level, Religious Education can, for example, offer insights into
the complex relationship between religion and violence. It can help pupils identify
the peaceful motives inherent in their own religious tradition as well as in other
traditions. It can also study and critically discuss non-peaceful religious motives
and develop a critical stance towards them, again in relationship to their own re-
ligious tradition as well as to other traditions. Fulfilling these tasks can be clearly
considered a basic presupposition for working against religiously motivated violence.
Moreover, in pursuing this task of clarifying the relationship between religion
and violence, Religious Education can try to work against prejudice. It is certainly
difficult to change, or even influence attitudes in a limited context like that of a
particular school subject. Yet, Religious Education can at least make available un-
distorted views of the religious other by offering information and insights into other
faiths or by presenting biographies of concrete people who belong to other religions.
It can try to correct misconceptions about other religious traditions, in the case
of Christian-Muslim relationships, for example, by enlightening pupils about the
meaning of violence in the Bible and in the Qur’an. This should include a contextual
and critical interpretation of verses or passages from the Bible or the Qur’an, for
example, about God’s alleged justification of violence against non-believers that
often are quoted in an isolated manner and without further examination or with-
out reference to theological and ethical discussions about their possible meaning
in today’s world. Moreover, in Religious Education such texts and teachings can
be—and should be—confronted with other texts and teachings that are more in
line with supporting peace.
Religious Education can—and should—also address difficult issues and topics,
like the medieval Crusades as well as the events of 9/11 or the so-called Islamic State.
Such examples show that the emphasis on the cognitive dimension does not unduly
limit the possibilities of education. Rather, there is a whole field of important issues
that are in need of theoretical analysis and that, consequently, are especially suitable
for the context of school-related cognitive learning. In all these respects, the task
would be to make undistorted views of the religious other available to the pupils.
211
Accurate information about the other can be considered an important step.

Knowledge is the prime domain of the school. Religious Education should see the
presentation of such knowledge as one of its prime tasks. Yet, while knowledge is
important and while the cognitive dimension remains important even concerning
the prevention of violence, Religious Education can also do more and should do
more. In the field of interreligious education, understanding the other by taking
the perspective of the other has come to play an important role. The aim of inter-
religious education should not be limited to coming to know the traditions of the
other, but it should also include at least some understanding of how the other reads
or views this tradition. For Muslim pupils, it is important to have some knowledge
of the Bible, just like Christian pupils should have some knowledge of the Qur’an.
In addition to this, they also need to know how Muslims read and understand the
Qur’an or, in the case of Muslim pupils, how Christians read and understand the
Bible. This kind of concrete taking on of perspectives related to Bible and Qur’an
cannot be achieved by general information alone. It is not enough to know the
Muslim understanding of the Qur’an’s origin in God’s verbal revelation to Muham-
mad. One must also become familiar with what this means for the concrete text of
the Qur’an by Muslims today. The same can be said concerning the Bible. This is
why projects based on reading texts from the Bible and the Qur’an together with
members of the other religion have often been praised as especially enlightening
and rewarding (van der Velden, 2011).
Understanding the perspective of “the other” includes a general ability that is
not limited to interpreting texts through the eyes of the other. In general, it refers
to the attempt of seeing oneself with the eyes of others that is basic for all social
and moral development (Selman, 1980). In the present context of interreligious
education, the other whose perspective has to be taken can be further specified as
the religious other. How does this other—as Muslim—see me as a Christian? And
how is this view related to me seeing him or her as a Muslim? These are just two
examples of adopting religious perspectives. Similar questions can be formulated in
relationship to any encounter between individuals or groups belonging to different
religions. Taking the perspective of the religious other will not be possible without
knowing the other. In this sense, understanding various religious perspectives
requires knowledge and learning about religions.
In the context of teaching and learning, taking on the perspective of the other
can be considered a specific ability or competence. The term competence refers to the
attempt of many educators today to become clear about what exactly different school
subjects should teach. Religious perspective taking would then be a competence
that can be supported in its development in Religious Education. Developmental
psychologists like Robert Selman have provided basic models of how this ability
evolves in the life of individual persons (Selman, 1980). In the field of intercultural
education Milton Bennett has added a model for how individuals are dealing with
the cultural other (Bennett, 1993). Religious perspective taking, however, has not
received much special attention in psychology so far. Yet it is easy to see that religious
perspective taking must be a close neighbor to general perspective taking as well
as to intercultural encounter. In all these respects it is of central importance that
children and adolescents learn to view themselves through the eyes of the other.
This implies that they have to become aware of the differences between the various
perspectives involved, and that they come to do so by becoming, at least to some
degree, familiar with different cultural and religious contexts. This is the reason
for the understanding described above, i.e., that knowledge of other religions is a
presupposition for interreligious perspective taking. Without knowing about the
beliefs of Christians, a Muslim child will not be able to understand how a Chris-
tian child feels about a church or about eating food that Muslims consider haram.
It has often been pointed out, however, that perspective taking can be ambivalent.
It can be used to do justice to the other by gaining insight in his or her views and
feelings, but it can also be used to deceive the other. The better I understand the
views of the other and the more I am able to anticipate the other’s intentions and
actions, the easier it will be for me to trick him or her. Since there is a certain truth
to this critical evaluation it is important to add a third component to the first two
components of knowledge and perspective taking—the component of attitudes. In
the present context, such attitudes refer to tolerance, recognition of the other, and
mutual respect. It can be assumed that such attitudes make sure that the ability to
take on the other’s perspective will be used in a peaceful manner.
It is known from psychological research that attitudes are acquired or learned.
They are neither inborn nor immutable for other reasons. Yet it is also known that
it is much more difficult for schools to change attitudes than to increase knowledge.
Other influences, for example, from the family, from peer groups, or from the me-
dia exert a powerful influence on attitudes. Consequently, it is an open question
as to what degree one could claim that Religious Education should be responsible
for changing pupils’ attitudes, especially when Religious Education is limited to a
few hours per week.
The same is true for a last aspect—competences for appropriately behaving and
acting in interreligious contexts. Such competences are certainly needed but it is
not clear how much the school can do to support their acquisition. Moreover, the
school offers very limited possibilities for using the respective abilities because
many forms of behaving and acting do not occur in a school context but rather in
everyday life. Whether someone would really show appropriate ways of dealing
with difficult situations related to interreligious encounters or to religiously mo-
213
tivated violence can hardly be judged from his or her behavior in the classroom.
Therefore, it is also not possible to effectively shape learning processes that depend
on experience and on feedback from teachers.
In sum then, it can be said that the possibilities for Religious Education to work
against religiously motivated violence and towards peaceful relationships among
different religions may be limited, but such possibilities clearly exist—both in
relationship to knowledge and religious perspective taking as well as, although to
a definitely lesser degree, in relationship to attitudes, while actual behavior and
action tend to lie beyond the reach of the school.
Yet given today’s educational discussions and insights, it is not enough to make
this theoretical claim. We also have to demonstrate empirically the effects of Religious
Education because it is quite possible that the reality of this educational practice
does not correspond to the theoretical claims. This is the reason why I now turn
to my second step in order to discuss some possibilities for empirical research in
this field by presenting one of our own research projects.
2 Researching Interreligious Education Empirically:

The Example of the Tuebingen Project “Interreligious
Education Through Perspective Taking”
Just like all other kinds of education, interreligious education is first of all based
on theoretical reasons and expectations. As shown in the first part of this chapter,
there are good reasons for giving much more emphasis to this task in the context
of Religious Education in the future. Yet it is also easy to see that good reasons
do not necessarily imply that an educational aim will actually be reached. This is
especially true for innovative approaches like interreligious education.
The practice of Religious Education can easily lag behind the aims stated in
the theoretical discussion. In extreme cases, it is even possible that it may lead to
effects that are contrary to the best intentions cherished by religious educators. In
the case of interreligious education this could, for example, mean that pupils ex-
posed to a respective teaching unit actually become more resistant to information
about other religions because they develop defensive or other negative attitudes.
They could also become more hesitant to take the perspective of the religious other
because they have become more aware of the differences between different religious
convictions or aware of possible aggressive attitudes arising from such differences
among certain individuals or groups. It is therefore necessary to gain a realistic
picture of the practice of interreligious education and of its actual potentials. Only
on the basis of such evaluative insights can effective approaches be developed or

can existing approaches be improved.
At this point, most of the research on interreligious education presented in the
publications quoted above has been analytical or theoretical. It is based on histor-
ical and theological or hermeneutical analysis, most of all, of different religious
traditions and belief systems—a task that certainly will remain indispensable in
the future as well. This does not justify, however, that so few studies have become
available that can be considered truly evaluative in that they were designed to show
both possible educational success, but also possible educational failure or at least
point out unresolved problems. Most of all the studies by Sterkens (2001) and by
Ziebertz (2010) have to be mentioned here again. Both of these studies were car-
ried out as so-called intervention studies (cf. Hascher & Schmitz, 2010) in which
certain teaching units were used with a number of school classes and the learning
results were tested empirically. In both studies, the results were quite mixed and
certainly not identical to the intended outcomes. Not all of the aims connected to
interreligious education could be reached with all of the pupils who took part in
the respective lessons.
In the following section I want to consider the possibilities for evaluating teaching
projects in the field of interreligious education in more detail. For this purpose I
will draw on the experiences reported by Sterkens and Ziebertz, but most of all on
one of our own ongoing projects.1 This project is still in process. Its main phase
started in 2013 and it will be completed in fall 2016. My emphasis in the following
will not be on the material results from this project (at this point, the results are
still preliminary), but on what the project can tell us about possibilities for doing
research in this field. In other words, my main concern will be with the design
and the methodology of the research because it may be used in other contexts of
interreligious education as well.
1 This project is supported by the German Research Foundation (DFG). Project leaders
are Friedrich Schweitzer (Protestant Religious Education) and Albert Biesinger (Roman
Catholic Religious Education). In 2015 Reinhold Boschki (Roman Catholic Religious
Education) joined the project as an additional leader. A whole team of researchers (from
Protestant, Roman Catholic and Muslim backgrounds) has been working on the project:
Magda Braun as principle investigator and Martin Losert in charge of statistical evalua-
tions; with various tasks and responsibilities: Annette Bohner, Matthias Gronover, Simone
Hiller, Lydia Hüsemann, Murat Kaplan, Claudia Märkt and Hanne Schnabel-Henke.
In addition, a number of student workers, again from different religious backgrounds,
made very valuable contributions. I am very much indebted to the commitment and
work of these people who can also be considered co-authors of this part of the present
chapter.
215
The most general question of our project is whether interreligious education in

the Religious Education classroom really is effective. Does this approach achieve
its goals? And can this be demonstrated empirically? The earlier studies on inter-
religious learning mentioned above (especially Sterkens, 2001; Ziebertz, 2010) raise
certain doubts concerning the effects of teaching units in this field, at least in some
respects. According to their results, interreligious education can be effective but it
is not always effective and certainly not with all pupils.
In order to answer our questions about the effects of teaching units on interreli-
gious education we decided to do a classic so-called intervention study. Intervention
studies are considered to yield reliable insights on possible effects of educational
approaches or teaching units (Hascher & Schmitz, 2010). Such a study presupposes
three things:
• First, certain lessons that will be taught as a teaching unit to a certain group of
pupils. This is called the treatment.
• Second, there will be a group of pupils who do not participate in these lessons
and who do not receive the treatment. This is the control group.
• Third, a number of measurements will be taken especially at the beginning and
at the end of the intervention that show whether the abilities or competences
and attitudes of the pupils have really changed. In recent times, an additional
measurement sometime after the treatment is recommended in order to probe
for more long-term effects.
An intervention study then typically looks like this:
t1 Treatment t2 t3
Experimental group X treatment X x
Control group X --- X x
The basic design described above allows for the evaluation of the impact, for example,
of a certain teaching unit. In the field of teaching and learning, including Religious
Education, there are often additional questions. In many cases, the question is
not only about a certain topic such as interreligious relationships or certain aims
such as fostering interreligious competence, but there are also different possible
approaches to teaching and teaching strategies that could be suitable. For exam-
ple, in the case of interreligious education, one may think of lectures by teachers
or of independent study projects carried out by the pupils almost independently
of the teacher, to mention only two alternatives. Given the demands of empirical
evaluation it seems important that decisions concerning competing approaches
to teaching a topic or different teaching strategies will not only be based on the
experiences reported by teachers, but also on empirical evidence as well. This is
important because the experience-based arguments in favor of a particular ap-
proach often refer to the teachers’ own personal experience. Just as in all cases of
this kind, this basis remains very subjective and will tend to be distorted. In any
case they cannot be generalized.
In order to go beyond such personal and subjective opinions referring to the
suitability and effectiveness of certain teaching approaches in the field of interreli-
gious education, we added another aspect to the design of our study. We broadened
the basic design of the intervention study in order to be able to compare the effects
of two different treatments—or, to use the language of teaching and learning, in
order to be able to compare two different approaches or strategies of teaching.
Consequently, two different teaching units were developed and implemented so
that their impact could be evaluated comparatively. The following chart shows that
comparisons can refer to the relationship between an experimental group and the
control group, but also to the relationship between the two experimental groups.
t1 Treatment t2 t3
Experimental group 1 X treatment 1 x x
Experimental group 2 X treatment 2 x x
Control group X --- x x
The two treatments or teaching strategies differed in that one referred to a general
topic (“Religion and Violence”) while the other was related to the future profession
of the pupils taking part in the present project (“Islamic Banking”). In this case, we
wanted to find out if the relationship to a professional context, for which the pupils
in the vocational schools are being trained, would work in the sense of tying the
topic to their experiences and to their life-worlds. It is often assumed that this kind
of experience-related or situated learning is more effective than abstract types of
teaching and learning. Moreover, it is assumed that pupils will be more interested
in the topic if they perceive a clear connection to their personal or professional
life-worlds.
217
The project can also be described graphically in the following manner:
The design of the research project looks straightforward and easy to implement . Yet
one should not overlook the many problems to be solved with a project that really
allows for comparing the effects of different teaching units . One major challenge
consists in making sure that the teaching unit could be carried out in an identical
manner in the different religion classes and by the different teachers involved in
the research (so-called treatment integrity) . In other words, we did not opt for the
possibility of having one and the same especially chosen and trained teacher carry
out the lessons in all of the classes—an option that recommends itself because of
the higher probability of identical teaching, while our approach allows for a closer
relationship to the average everyday situation of teaching . However, with intervention
studies, treatment integrity is of crucial importance . For this reason, we carried
out a number of pilot studies in which the units were tested . The teaching process
was videotaped and the tapes were evaluated concerning treatment integrity and
other possible problems by a number of raters . Questions to be considered for this
early stage of the research referred to the practical feasibility of the teaching units,
to the teachers’ personal evaluations of the units as well as to the way in which
they were administered by different teachers and with different groups of pupils .
Moreover, unfortunately, there are very few research instruments available in
the field of Religious Education that are based on long-term testing for validity and
on continued use in research. Therefore, we had to develop our own questionnaire.

We could use a number of items from earlier research by others but, in the end, we
had to rely on carefully testing the questionnaire ourselves. This involved another
pilot study (N>300) just for checking the validity of the instrument.
Many studies in religious education research work with small non-representative
samples. For the research question at hand this would not have been a sufficient
basis. Valid results require representative samples. In addition to this, more complex
statistical analysis such as multilevel analysis (for applications in the field of religious
education, cf. Ilg/Schweitzer, 2010) presuppose samples of a certain minimum size.
We therefore decided to include a sample of 1800 pupils.
The measuring instrument (questionnaire) had to include the components
described above (knowledge, attitudes, perspective taking). Consequently, the
items in the questionnaire had to reflect the different nature of these components.
In some cases, simple questions are sufficient. In other cases, the questionnaire
had to present tasks to be fulfilled. Some examples from our questionnaire can
show the type of items used for the different components of knowledge, attitudes,
perspective taking.
Knowledge
Which of the following belong to the five pillars of Islam?
Belongs to it Does not belong Don’t know
Prayer ☐ ☐ ☐
Hajj ☐ ☐ ☐
Headscarf ☐ ☐ ☐
Studying the Qur’an ☐ ☐ ☐
Holy War ☐ ☐ ☐
Alms-giving ☐ ☐ ☐
Resurrection ☐ ☐ ☐
Ramadan ☐ ☐ ☐
Creed ☐ ☐ ☐
219
Attitudes
Would you like it, would it not matter to you, or would you not like it so much if the
following people would move into the apartment next door to you?
I would not Wouldn’t I would like

like it. matter to me. it.
a homosexual couple (gays, lesbian) ☐ ☐ ☐
an immigrant family from Russia ☐ ☐ ☐
a German family with many children ☐ ☐ ☐
a number of students sharing the apartment ☐ ☐ ☐
an elderly retired couple ☐ ☐ ☐
a German family that lives on welfare ☐ ☐ ☐
a dark-skinned family from Africa ☐ ☐ ☐
a Turkish family ☐ ☐ ☐
Perspective Taking
You are working for a big bank as an investment advisor. More and more the clients
are families from immigrant backgrounds. Many of them come from Turkey or
from the Near East.
Today you are advising a couple from Lebanon who want to invest 25000 EURO
in the best way possible. In Lebanon, there are Christians (about 40%) and Muslims
(about 60%), both with different denominational affiliations.
The couple has not been customers of your bank. In their appearance, the woman
and the man are no different from the local customers.
You are aware that the most lucrative investment funds of your bank are closely
related to firms producing weapons. Your bank does rather well with them and in
the case of a sale, you will receive a percentage.
Recently, however, you learned that Islam does not allow investing in firms
related to alcohol, tobacco, pork, and weapons.
Which is suitable?
Not suitable Suitable Don’t know
With Lebanese I assume that they are Muslims ☐ ☐ ☐
In this counseling situation I consider it permis-
☐ ☐ ☐
sible to ask about their religious affiliation
In order not to hurt the customer’s religious
feelings I do not mention that our most lucra-
☐ ☐ ☐
tive fund implies investments in the production
of weapons
I offer a fund that is related to investments in
☐ ☐ ☐
weapons only to a small degree
The religious affiliation of a customer may not
☐ ☐ ☐
play a role in designing an offer
If they are strongly believing Muslims I will stay
away from our most lucrative fund from the be- ☐ ☐ ☐
ginning
If they are strongly believing Christians I will
stay away from our most lucrative fund from ☐ ☐ ☐
the beginning
As stated above, serious evaluations must intentionally include the possibility of

failure. In the present context this means that one must be interested not only in
possible effects of a teaching and learning unit along the lines of the aims of in-
terreligious education, but also in the possibility of lacking effects or, in the worst
case, contrary effects. For example, in the project design described above, it would
be possible for the control group to make as much—or as little—progress as the
experimental groups. Or the experimental groups could end up at a competence
level that is lower than in the beginning. Such results would call in question that
interreligious competence can be fostered, at least with the teaching units applied
in the project.
In addition to using a research design that clearly allows for critical or negative
results, formulating clear hypotheses is another important consequence that follows
from the evaluative interest. If such hypotheses are set down in a project plan or,
as in our own case, an application for funding prior to the actual research process,
this ensures transparent procedures in interpreting the eventual results. It also
makes researchers vulnerable, in a positive sense, because comparisons between
the hypotheses and the results make visible at which points the results hoped for
by the researchers could actually not be attained.
221
For such reasons, we formulated a whole set of hypotheses at the beginning of

the project. These hypotheses were not based exclusively on theoretical consider-
ations but also on the pilot studies and preliminary results from trial runs. Here
are three examples:
1. Religious perspective taking increases more with the experimental groups than
with the control group.
2. Religious perspective taking increases more with a treatment related to a voca-
tional (“life-world”) context.
3. There is a positive relationship between religious perspective taking and inter-
religious knowledge (knowledge as necessary but not sufficient presupposition
for perspective taking).
As mentioned above, the project is still in progress. Final results will not be available
before 2017. Yet some preliminary general results can be reported here, not in detail,
but in the sense of the tendencies that have become visible so far.
Hypothesis 1 above is of course of crucial importance for the whole field of in-
terreligious education. If a treatment—well-planned teaching units in the present
case—do not make a difference in terms of a measurable increase in interreligious
competence, at least the approach to interreligious education chosen for the project
would be put in question. The results from the project available so far, however,
indicate that this is actually not the case. At least in a number of key aspects, the
experimental groups show more interreligious competence after having been ex-
posed to the teaching units used as treatments in the project.
Hypothesis 2 is less crucial for the idea and plausibility of the enterprise of in-
terreligious education as such than for the different ways in which it can be carried
out in terms of strategies of teaching. The connection to a vocational context—sit-
uations related to banking for future bank employees or other tasks in the field of
finances and accounting—was considered a variety of teaching strategies aiming for
strong ties to the life-world of the pupils. Such ties are expected to increase pupils’
motivation for learning as well as to support learning outcomes in general. The
results from the project available so far seem to support this hypothesis as well, at
least in part and less clearly than in the case of the first hypothesis. In other words,
the results are somewhat mixed and therefore need more scrutiny and discussion
before they can be interpreted.
Hypothesis 3 was formulated in the interest of further testing our competence
model, the model of interreligious competence described above. More specifically,
it refers to a specific—hypothetical—relationship between two components of this
competence, i.e., knowledge and taking the perspective of the other. At this point,
it is not clear if the results of the project will allow for clear insights concerning
this relationship. In any case, further statistical scrutiny is needed concerning this
possible relationship.
These are just three examples of the hypotheses formulated and tested in our
research project. A full publication covering these hypotheses in more detail as
well as the other hypotheses that could not be taken up here, is in preparation.
Conclusions
This chapter started out with theoretical considerations on religiously motivated

violence and the possibilities for Religious Education to work against such violence.
More specifically, in a first step, interreligious education was discussed as a possible
contribution to Religious Education in countering religiously motivated violence
in that this approach can be expected to work, for example, to counter distorted
views of the religious other and ensuing religious prejudice. It is assumed that such
negative views and other forms of prejudice can play an important role in lowering
the threshold of violence against the religious other.
In a second step, in conversation with an ongoing Tübingen research project on
interreligious education through perspective taking, possibilities for evaluating the
effects of interreligious education were discussed. The still preliminary results of
the research project indicate both that the approach can indeed be successful but
that not all effects hoped for can be attained.
At this point the final results from our project are not available yet. Independently
of these results, however, the design of the study could be of lasting interest and
importance for the field of interreligious education and beyond—as an example
for how valid data on processes of interreligious learning and of learning for peace
can be obtained.
In my understanding, the dimensions or components described above—knowl-
edge, religious perspective taking, attitudes—can be considered the core of a
general model of interreligious competence. Such a model is the presupposition
for evaluating the respective attempts in the field of religious education. Using
a competence model for purposes of measuring the effects of teaching does not
imply that all teaching in Religious Education should be competence-oriented as
some religious educators have demanded in the aftermath of the PISA (Program
for International Student Assessment) studies. This would be another discussion,
however, which is why I limit myself here to indicating some skepticism against
223
relying on the competence-oriented teaching approach as the guiding model for

teaching Religious Education.
Finally, interreligious education does not cover the whole range of possibilities
for Religious Education to respond to the problem of religiously motivated violence.
Other possibilities could include, for example, focusing on the question of the rela-
tionship between religion and violence or on the relationship between religion and
peace. It was not the intention of this chapter to cover all of the different possibilities.
Yet independently of the approach taken it should be clear that all approaches must
be submitted to careful evaluative scrutiny, including empirical testing.
To say it again in conclusion: Good intentions are one thing—effective teaching
is another.
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225
Violence as a Challenge for Religious
Education, Psychological, Theological,
and Educational Perspectives
Martin Rothgangel
Violence as a Challenge for Religious Education
This chapter consists of four sections that analyze violence as a challenge for religious
education . To begin with, there is a preliminary discussion that seeks to clarify the
term “violence” . The second section presents three “classical” theories of violence
drawn from psychological research . The third section attempts a self-critical Chris-
tian-theological reflection on violence; the essential thesis of this section is that we
should not ignore those parts of Holy Scripture that document violence—to the
contrary, we should accept this challenge and subject it to theological reflection .
Finally, with the foregoing in mind, we formulate educational—particularly, reli-
giously educational—considerations for dealing with violence .
Preliminary Discussion of the Term “Violence”
In German, the term “violence” possesses a radically different usage between every
day and academic discourses . The German word Gewalt (“violence”; “power”) is
derived from the root word walten (“to prevail”) and originally meant a special
form of ability or capacity in the sense of “having the ability to command .” (Korff,
1995) During the Middle Ages, the use of Gewalt to translate potestas (Lat . “power”)
in the sense of “legitimate power,” as well as violentia (Lat . “violence”) in the sense
of “hurtful power,” introduced simultaneously a marked ethical dimension and a
semantic ambiguity into the word’s usage (Korff, 1995) . This ambiguity may be
observed in the connotation of Gewalt to this day: In everyday usage, Gewalt most
frequently carries the negative connotation of “hurtful power,” while in political
usage Gewalt either enjoys a neutral connotation (e .g . Gewaltenteilung—“separation
of powers”) or an outright positive one (e .g . “all state authority [Staatsgewalt] is
227
228 Martin Rothgangel
derived from the people”; see Basic Law for the Federal Republic of Germany, Art.
20.2) (von Scheliha, 2005, 26).
In psychology, violence can be defined as a subdomain of aggression—where
aggression is “behavior that is directed at harming or hurting other individuals”,
violence is “grave forms of aggressive behavior.” (Nolting, 2005, 15). In contrast
to this narrow understanding of violence, Johan Galtung (1975, 9) offers a much
broader definition by considering “structural violence”: “Violence occurs when
people are so influenced that their actual somatic and intellectual achievements
are less than their potential achievements.” The advantage of this broader approach
is that it enables the detection of forms of violence that function at a structural
level and that in turn represent a significant breeding ground for interpersonal
violence. At the same time, one disadvantage here is that through such a definition,
the concept of violence can be extended to the point that it becomes shapeless (von
Felten, 2000, 33–37).
Hurrelmann & Palentien (1995) propose a reified conception of violence, which
proves helpful in the context of education because it differentiates among the fol-
lowing forms of violence:
• “physical violence—the impairment and injury of another through physical

force and strength;
• psychological violence—the impairment and injury of another through the
withholding of affection and trust, or through mental torment and emotional
extortion;
• verbal violence—the impairment and injury of another through the use of
insulting, humiliating and degrading words;
• sexual violence—the impairment and injury of another by forced, intimate, phys-
ical contact or other sexual acts which enable the offender to meet his own needs;
• misogynistic violence—physical, psychological, verbal or sexual forms of im-
pairment and injury to women, which are often inflicted through the exercise
of power and with a discriminatory or degrading purpose;
• xenophobic and racist violence—physical, psychological and verbal forms of
impairment and injury to another based on ethnicity.”
The above interpersonal forms of violence are distinguished from the following:
• “structural violence—that is, physical, psychological and verbal forms of im-

pairment and injury to another, inflicted through the taking advantage of
power, hierarchy and (the victim’s) dependence and through the exercise of
public functions”—and
Violence as a Challenge for Religious Education 229
• “vandalism—that is, a form of physical damage and destruction of property.”
In the context of schools, this reified conception of violence can serve to foster a
conversation about the current usage of Gewalt (Peter, 2005).
Psychological Perspectives
As we have already suggested above, in psychology, the term “aggression” is frequently

preferred to “violence.” Below, we outline three “classic” psychological theories of
aggression: drive theory, the frustration-aggression hypothesis, and explanatory
theories derived from social learning theory (Krahe, 2013).
Drive Theory
Despite the influence of Sigmund Freud, its renowned originator, drive theory plays
virtually no role in current academic psychology research. Late in his career, Freud
postulated a “struggle between Eros and Death, the life instinct and the destructive
instinct.” (Freud, 2003, 249; Bucher, 2003)
In a certain sense, one can say that the organism’s drive toward Death functions
as an innate and continuous wellspring of aggressive impulses. Indeed, findings
from anthropology and sociobiology prove that aggressive behavior also represents
an “innate inheritance” of humanity. Especially well-known here is the research of
Konrad Lorenz, which explained intraspecific aggression as combative behavior that
serves to preserve the species by forcing conspecifics to divide space and expand in
order to prevent the overpopulation of small spaces. This also explains the fixation
of mammals and humans on their territory (Lorenz, 1963, 46-49). “The current
appeal of radical right-wing warnings that we are threatened by a deluge of the
Other lends this thesis an oppressive relevance.” (Bucher, 2003, 35)
The Frustration-aggression Hypothesis

“According to the frustration-aggression hypothesis, impulses do not arise spon-
taneously but in response to disturbing, unpleasant events.” (Bucher, 2003, 35).
Leonard Berkowitz, one of the chief proponents of the frustration-aggression
hypothesis, subsequently developed the theory by replacing “anger” with a nonspe-
cific “negative affect” that functions as an emotional link between frustration and
aggression. By way of summary, one can say that aggressive behavior most likely
follows negative events,
229
• “if the event entails an active provocation against one’s self-esteem or body, or
represents a breach of the principles of equity …;
• if the affected person also perceives (as malicious, reckless, negligent, etc.) the
event as a truly negative and culpable behavior and therefore feels anger, indig-
nation or a similar emotion;
• if the person moreover contributes aggressive (and non-constructive) behavioral
habits as well as low inhibitions to such situations;
• if the situation includes aggressive models, sign stimuli and incentives (probability
of success) but does not encourage inhibitions.” (Nolting, 2005, 76)
Unlike the original frustration theory, under which aggression is always a con-
sequence of frustration, the developed theory allows for aggressive behaviors to
manifest themselves uncaused by a negative event: 1. instrumental aggression (e.g.
a bank robber who makes threats to extort money); 2. aggression arising from
obedience (e.g. the Milgram experiment); 3. delight-aggression (e.g. hooliganism);
4. spontaneous imitation (e.g. children mimicking violent movie scenes) (Nolting,
2005, 76).
Explanatory Models Derived from Social Learning Theory

This last example of children mimicking media brings us to the currently popular
explanatory models of aggression as derived and developed from social learning
theory by Albert Bandura (Bandura, 1979). Unlike the drive and frustration theories,
social learning theory holds that aggressive behavior does not occur due to specific
stimuli: “Instead, like any other behavior, [aggressive behavior] is determined by
the laws of learning—from operant conditioning, from observational learning, and
from cognitive learning.”(Nolting, 2005, 39).
Through observational learning, aggression can be learned in almost all walks
of life: in the family, on television and the media in general, on the sports field, on
the road, in the workplace, in politics, etc. And yet, as Bucher pointedly remarks,
“All Central Europeans have already been exposed to murder; the majority has not
imitated what it has seen.” (Bucher, 2003, 39). This in turn gives rise to the question
of why some people imitate violent behavior, while others do not. Ultimately, this
depends on several factors: 1. on the observed behavior (e.g. whether the aggressive
behavior resulted in success or not); 2. on the observer (e.g. whether the observer
is predisposed to aggression); 3. on the relationship between the observer and the
aggressor (e.g. whether the observer likes the aggressor or feels similar to him);
and, 4. on the given situation (e.g. a sanctioned act of violence) (Nolting, 2005).
While observational learning explains how a person can acquire new aggressive
behaviors, operational conditioning explains why people engage in aggressive be-
haviors (Nolting, 2005, 94). In this respect, empirical studies show that very different
benefits (e.g. the assertion of one’s own desires; obtaining recognition or at least
attention; the protective function) (Nolting, 2005, 94) and in particular emotional
effects (“positive self-evaluation for aggressive behavior, satisfaction, […] thrill”)
(Nolting, 2005, 100) can be viewed as positive outcomes and can therefore make
aggressive behaviors seem promising.
Cognitive theories reveal prejudice formation as the dark side of the cognitive
processes of categorization and attribution that every individual relies on. Thus,
individuals attribute positive as well as negative traits in an undifferentiated
manner to others’ groups (outgroups), in contrast to one’s own group (ingroup).
Similarly, negative behavior by an outgroup is ascribed to that group’s inherent
traits, whereas the negative behavior of one’s own group is attributed to external
factors. In this sense, for example, the relatively high unemployment rate among
immigrants leads the extreme right to the prejudice that this group is lazy (i.e. an
inherent trait), whereas unemployment among members of the extreme right is
explained through the poor condition of the labor market (i.e. an external factor).
It should be noted that as of the time of writing, there has not yet been an attempt
in psychological research “that managed to use one of the three core concepts of
‘drive,’ ‘frustration’ or ‘learning’ in order to explain the diversity of aggressive
phenomena. The juxtaposition of these three positions as ‘theories of aggression’
is so far only of historical significance.” (Nolting, 2005, 39–40)
Before we move on to a theological reflection on violence, it is worth stating that
simply given the above psychological theories, it becomes problematic when, for
example, the current atrocities of ISIS are attributed in a mono-causal manner to
Islam. In this case, the manifold causes of violence (e.g., frustration) that lie beyond
religion are either unrecognized or ignored. Conversely, immunization strategies
that rigidly claim a distinction between Islam and violence are not convincing:
After all, ISIS-affiliated scholars issue problematic fatwas that provide a “learning
opportunity” for their audience. Here, we find the need for a critical theological
discourse that will engage such fatwas through argument and thereby reach beyond
the mere statement that Islam and violence are two distinct categories. Given the
myriad causes for the emergence of violence, it behooves us to conduct a theological
discourse that is open to self-critique and to consider the problematic “learning
opportunities” that even one’s own religion provides for violence as well as what
potential it offers against violence. In the following, we make an attempt to do just
this with regard to our own Protestant Christian tradition.
231
Theological Perspectives
Violence and God in the Bible

The issue of violence leads towards the depths, or better, towards the deep chasm,
of theological reflection. It may seem comforting to assume that God is entirely
gentle and benevolent, a God of love, but this is only one side of the God of the
Bible. The other side of the biblical God is, for example, reflected in the Old Tes-
tament study of Andreas Michel who lists about 1,800 biblical passages that talk
about God’s forceful and violent deeds (Michel, 2003). Allow us to illustrate this
side of God with an example from the Old Testament where God is quoted saying,
“Now go, attack the Amalekites and totally destroy all that belongs to them. Do not
spare them; put to death men and women, children and infants, cattle and sheep,
camels and donkeys.” (1 Sam. 15:3, New International Version)1 “The dark side of
God” (Dietrich & Link, 2009, Vols. 1 & 2) manifests unsparingly throughout the
whole of the Bible, in the Old and New Testaments alike. Accordingly, it must be
considered theologically,2 but without falling into an extreme position, in which
primarily a punitive God and a “Black Pedagogy” deal with the sinful nature of
humanity (Bucher, 2013, 696).
“Violent acts of God” show the “tremendous” power of the biblical God. This is
an aspect that does not fit well into the comfortable living rooms of rich societies.
Dietrich & Link (2009) write, “Our time demands a ‘gentle’ God, a smooth-edged
God who fits effortlessly into the world view of society and its rules. We no longer
know the God of David and Isaiah, … who let his chosen ones feel his energetic
opposition to their way of life.” (Dietrich & Link, 2009, Vol. 1, 171).
Manfred Oeming (2005) labels different theological meanings of God’s violent
acts, of which two are worth highlighting here:
• “violence in God is a humbling experience regarding humanity; it highlights how

disgraceful and punishable a lot of that what humans do to each other is;
• violence in God stands for His world-changing dynamics: God does something;
He is not satisfied with the situation as it is.”
Oeming hits the nail on the head in summarizing that dialectics has often been
condemned as a “magic trick” of theologians who are not able to accomplish
1 For a more detailed reflection of this passage see Dietrich & Link 2009.
2 Insufficient forms of theological reflection on violence (e.g. “ignoring and whitewash-
ing,” “historicizing and relativizing,” “relativizing the Old Testament”) are evaluated
by Oeming, 2005, 70–74.
theology’s task of speaking about God by means of ordinary reason: “However,

when thinking about God and violence I repeatedly come to the conclusion that
it is probably impossible to […] approach the mystery of God by any means other
than dialectics. In His actions fraught with tension, God remains the secret of the
world. God is love and God is anger. … God is forgiveness and God is punishment.”
(Oeming, 2005, 81)
Nonviolence and Loving One’s Enemies

Most people are familiar with the biblical saying “an eye for an eye, a tooth for
a tooth” (Exodus 21:24); it is the so called lex talionis. In our day and age, this
sounds brutal, but in earlier times, this definition was one that reduced violence,
as it forbade any intemperate retaliation—thereby ensuring that the retaliation was
not allowed to exceed the injustice.
In contrast, in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus demands complete nonviolence:
“If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also. … If
anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles” (Matthew 5:39–41). In
the same way, Jesus radicalizes the concept of loving one’s neighbor and expands
it even to loving one’s enemies (Matthew 5:43). And yet, considering that human
history clearly shows a need to harm those who have done harm themselves, lov-
ing one’s enemies appears to be an excessive demand (Nipkow, 2005, 170). Thus,
former German Chancellor Helmut Schmidt’s observation that one cannot base
one’s politics on the Sermon on the Mount seems reasonable (Käßmann, 2001, 48).
Nevertheless, we ought to keep in mind that, as opposed to the lex talionis and
political power play, the antitheses of retaliation and loving one’s enemies are able
to break the cycle of violence. In addition, the nonviolent provisions of the Sermon
on the Mount should not be confused with defenseless passivity. Ultimately, turning
the other cheek humiliates the aggressor and walking the second mile is a possible
form of protest (Käßmann, 2001, 49). After all, “probably no other text of the New
Testament questions our reality to such an extent and provokes so much hope that
this world’s circumstances could be different and will be different in God’s future.”
(Käßmann, 2001, 49).
Trust in God is a crucial requirement for preventing despair when faced by these
radical ethical demands, which “will wipe away every tear” (Revelation 21:4) as
well as the feeling of being accepted and loved by God: “We love because He first
loved us” (1 John 4:19). Those who live in this awareness “no longer depend on a
correspondence of feelings before they can love others. They are supported by a
relationship with God, which passed death (Romans 8:38f).”
“In early Christianity the abolition of violence is part of the eschatological vi-
sion (1 Corinthians 15:24), whereas authoritarian violence belongs to this earthly
233
world in this period of time—as enacted by God (Romans 13:1)—and must be

endured.” (Schrey, 1984, 170). During the difficult times when Christians were
persecuted, the consistent renunciation of violence by Christians was a factor that
contributed to the spread of the Christian faith. Even in martyrdom, outsiders
were able to perceive the trust of Christians that even death would not be able
to separate them from the love of God. This trust therefore presented a credible
testament to the Christian faith. Nevertheless, when the Christian Church gained
power, she turned to violence herself and endangered her credibility: crusades,
inquisition, witch trials, forced conversion, and anti-Judaism stand as symbols
of this (Käßmann, 2001, 17).
Protestant Teachings on Violence

Before we leap into the depths of Protestant teachings on violence, let us first again
recall that “force” and “violence” are the same word (Gewalt) in German. Meanwhile,
in English, they can be used interchangeably, but “violence” has a more negative
connotation and “force” often means the positive rule of law (e.g. as in “legal force
and effect”). Since violence and force do help define each other, we will treat them
together in the following section.
Martin Luther’s position on violence has historical significance, which can be
understood in view of his two kingdoms doctrine. These two kingdoms represent
two types of government—spiritual government and secular government. “Spiritual
government” stands for God’s rule of the world by means of the Gospel word alone.
The use of violence in order to spread the faith is categorically rejected (Schrey,
1984,. 171). On the other hand, God rules by law in the secular government, which
includes “the use of force by the entities that God has chosen” (Schrey, 1984, 171)
to prevent the spread of interpersonal violence. Even if the authorities misuse
their sovereign power, no counter violence is allowed: “For one should not resist
the authorities with force, but only with commitment to the truth.” (von Scheliha,
2005, 27) While the love of one’s neighbor can make it necessary for a Christian to
use force, nonviolence is required when it comes to one’s own self: “For individual
Christians, the example of Jesus Christ shows the way to nonviolence in private life.
They should adopt the principle of loving their neighbors as well as their enemies
and ought to learn to apply it in everyday life.” (von Scheliha, 2005, 29)
The limits of the two kingdoms doctrine became obvious soon after the Ref-
ormation, since the doctrine often led to supporting “authoritarian injustice” and
thus “structural violence.” In this view, the legitimate exercise of violence was
solely acceptable if it came from the authorities and the state’s monopoly on the
use of force. Up to the present day, the exercise of revolutionary violence has been
controversial in a theological sense. The World Council of Churches’ Commission
report on “Violence, Nonviolence and the Struggle for Social Justice” (1973) is a
good example of the disagreement which arises in response to the question: Was
Jesus’ nonviolence only situation-related or a fundamental decision of lasting sig-
nificance for Christians.” (Schrey, 1984, 175).
Recent publications of the World Council of Churches emphasize that even
revolutionary violence implies violence (Käßmann, 2001, 12 & 42). However,
revolutionary violence should not be entirely ruled out in the face of such things
as deadly economic injustice—after all, every year about seven million children
die because of hunger and malnutrition. Certainly it would be easier and safer for
us to rule out revolutionary violence, since we sit in judgment from the “comfort-
able armchair perspective” of a wealthy country. Instructive here are the ethical
considerations of Dietrich Bonhoeffer in his so-called “Prison letters.” Facing the
Nazi regime, Bonhoeffer (1992 & 1997) advocated “tyrannicide” (i.e. the killing of
Hitler), recognizing that even in this exceptional situation, tyrannicide was an act
of taking on personal guilt. Again we observe here a dialectical way of theological
thinking: On the one hand Bonhoeffer advocates tyrannicide; on the other hand
he stresses that even tyrannicide makes one guilty.
Perspectives for Religious Education
The foregoing is intended to provide insight into the complexity of the issue, with-
out being able to consider nearly all the possible perspectives it offers. The issue of
violence confronts schools with an imperative educational challenge that reaches
beyond violence itself. At the same time, it is worth considering the limits of edu-
cational efforts in a realistic manner. Although from a learning theory perspective,
the propensity to violence can be unlearned, everyday life remains brimming with
an abundance of violent learning opportunities. Basically, overcoming violence
does not simply involve correcting a knowledge deficit, but necessitates targeted
coordination by different areas of education.
Intra- and Interpersonal Preventive Measures

Given the complexity of violence and its deep roots in individuals as well as society,
it behooves us to consider preventive measures (as borrowed from drug prevention
research) as well as structurally-dependent factors of violence. An instructive as-
sortment of such aspects can be found in the prevention matrix of Udo Schmälzle
(2003). In the area of primary prevention, which is aimed at reducing violence, the
235
following measures are proposed in regard to the intrapersonal and interpersonal

dimensions:
“Intrapersonal Dimension
• Awareness, encouragement and maintenance of basic trust and self-esteem
• Education aimed at drive deferment and violence reduction by building the
child’s awareness of his/her corporeal integrity.
• Reinforcement of pro-social attitudes and motives
• Awareness, fostering and maintenance of self-expression
Interpersonal dimension (family, school, peer group)

• Nonviolence as a parenting style and educational goal
• The practice of nonviolent conflict resolution in the family, school and society
(exemplary behavior), cooperation from agents of socialization
• Family networking
• Parental support
• Addressing the issues of violence and aggression in the classroom
• Fostering social work in schools
• Consistent persecution of infractions
• Involvement of children and young people in decision-making processes (e.g.
change of residence)
• Intercultural work with youth and children.” (Schmälzle, 2003, 162)3
Similarly, elements from what is often termed secondary prevention deserve an

examination aimed at work with possible at-risk groups:
“Intrapersonal Dimension
• Immunization of potential victims and perpetrators through anti-stress and
anti-aggression training
• Empowerment of at-risk persons to deal with anxiety, guilt and aggression
Interpersonal dimension (family, school, peer group)

• Help for drug and alcohol addicts
• Protection of disabled persons
• Women’s shelters
• Foster families
3 The similarly-outlined cultural dimension is less relevant here.

• Immunization of potential victims by fostering self-confidence to learn self-de-

fense techniques in school and leisure time
• Avoiding performance pressure
• Working with school failure
• Mediator training
• Children’s living groups
• Child protection centers.” (Schmälzle, 2003, 162)
It becomes clear that religious education offers limited capabilities in this context
and must rely on cooperation. Still a theological topic like “nonviolence” can prove
to be very apposite in religious education. By way of example, this can be outlined
through the intrapersonal dimension in the field of primary prevention. The
importance of confidence-building was forcefully emphasized in the theological
reflection and is with good reason brought into the foreground by Karl Nipkow
in his consideration of peace education (2004). The recognition of the corporeal
integrity of every human being is theologically derived from the divine likeness of
man and is addressed in different ways by religious education. The reinforcement of
“pro-social attitudes” lies at the core of religious education’s “compassion project,”
as proposed by Lothar Kuld et al. (2000) and has so far proven successful in prac-
tice. Finally, the promotion of self-expression directly addresses one’s emotional
state, as can be exemplified with Baldermann’s approach to teaching the Psalms
(Baldermann, 1986). In addition, other preventive measures are particularly suitable
for project work (e.g., women’s shelters and child protection centers). Thus, in view
of the preventive measures listed above, we can see numerous aspects in which
religious education can make an important contribution to overcoming violence.
Networked Educational Measures

There are numerous proposals and programs against aggression for schools, which
according to Nolting can be assigned the following five different types (Nolting,
2005, 284–286): 1. changes to school conditions, especially the school climate; 2.
fostering pupils’ social competence (recognizing emotions, empathy exercises,
anger management, constructive conflict resolution); 3. urgent intervention vis-
à-vis aggressive actions and individual meetings with offenders; 4. protecting and
strengthening typical victims (as a rule, it is the offenders who receive the most
attention); 5. multilevel concepts that integrate measures 1–4 into a single concept
and currently enjoy “the clearest evidence of efficacy.” (Nolting, 2005, 286).
Such multilevel concepts do not require the complete performance of each
measure; instead, different emphases are made in different individual projects. It
is important that beyond individual (difficult) students and individual classes, “all
237
members of the school system [are involved.] The goal is to alter social interaction,
not just individual education!” (Nolting, 2005, 287). Nolting cites a very constructive
set of projects conceived at various levels drawn from different European countries:
“School level
• Raising problem awareness (among teachers, parents, students)
• Binding rules (attacking is prohibited; those attacked should be helped; no one
should be marginalized)
• Schoolyard design (structuring, zones, proposals)
• Better oversight (of critical sites and individual offenders or victims)
• Regulations for critical situations (e.g., waiting periods)
Class level
• Class discussions about incidents and conduct
• Instructions for onlookers to render assistance
• Social curricula, training programs
• Aggression and bullying as a lesson topic
Individual level
• Urgent intervention against aggressive acts
• Conversations with offenders, victims, parents
• Support and protection for victims; confidence building
• Incentives for positive behavior; exposure to negative consequences.” (Nolting,
2005, 289)
Teachers of religion can participate at all levels and make a concrete religious edu-
cational contribution by, for example, creatively integrating the WCC’s Decade to
Overcome Violence (Käßmann, 2001) or through “classical” religious education
topics such as “violence,” “loving one’s enemies,” and others.4 The above list, how-
ever, also clearly shows what we stated earlier in the introduction to the education
section of the present work: An explicit religious educational treatment of the topic
of aggression—and violence, in particular—can serve as one of the many building
blocks to the effective overcoming of violence. We will not delve further into this
here, since there is already an abundance of excellent teaching materials that in
addition to incorporating psychological research on aggression, also include pro-
4 Furthermore, it is worth considering the specific potential of Evangelical schools in

terms of peace education. For this, see Schreiner, (2005).
posals rooted in religious education, which deal with subjects such as loving one’s
enemy and nonviolence (Mokrosch, 2000; Klie, 1993; Peter, 2005).
“Exciting” Religious Education Measures

What do all these considerations mean in terms of religious education? We would
now like to pick up on one aspect which emerges from the theological reflections
above.5 It became clear at various points that there is a tense dialectic between the
issue of violence and the conception of God, the ius talionis and the Sermon on the
Mount, as well as nonviolence and “legitimate” use of force.
Meanwhile, in front of children, there is a tendency to present Jesus as meek and
God as kind, ignoring God’s dark side. Ignoring the theologically doubtful nature
of this approach, it is illuminating that Anton Bucher begins his essay “A God who
is too Kind?” with references to Harry Potter—a work that, according to its critics,
is characterized by extreme cruelty, but fascinates children, adolescents, and adults
alike (Bucher, 2004). Furthermore, developmental-psychological studies show that
children have a very explicit understanding of what is good and evil. According
to children, God’s punishment and evil serve the purpose of educating people for
the better (Bucher, 2004, 180–181).
For these reasons, Rainer Lachmann’s position is convincing. He states that reli-
gious educators “should not deal with the smooth, unquestionable, and inoffensive
stories alone, even in children’s Bibles. Children should also get to know difficult
and dark stories from the Bible. This applies to the dark side of God as well as our
human acts with their contradictions and the many things that remain unexplained,
misunderstood, and incomprehensible.” (Lachmann, 2005, 218). The prime example
that Lachmann gives for this is the productive way in which children deal with the
story of Cain and Abel in Genesis 4 (Fricke, 2005). This narrative-initiated dialectic
of God’s and man’s conception can be further developed through argumentation
at the junior secondary level.
The dialectic of theological thought, which is so necessary to the subject of vio-
lence, can be further deepened in the senior secondary level of education—doing so
by presenting Luther’s two kingdoms doctrine as a theological theory of violence:
To what extent is this an appropriate solution, given the claims that Jesus makes
in the Sermon on the Mount? At the same time, the legitimacy of revolutionary
violence—an issue arising in the aftermath of Protestantism—can also be contrasted
with the idea of consistent nonviolence.
5 Nipkow (2007) provides a comprehensive overview. For deeper insights into the signif-
icance of compassion, see Naurath (2007).
239
In this context, it becomes vital that classical “teaching examples” for nonviolence
(Jesus, Gandhi, Martin Luther King) are not depicted as unattainable, idealized
role models. It is obvious that even Jesus of Nazareth should not be characterized
as a person who lived totally “sine ira et studio” and without violence—we need
only to look at the Cleansing of the Temple narrative: “If Jesus was truly human,
then it could also be assumed that his anger in this instance was stronger than his
belief that nonviolence was the right way.” (Käßmann, 2001, 50) The tension and
diversity of biblical experiences regarding Jesus must also not be rashly sacrificed
to a trivial image of a meek Jesus. On the contrary, a “merely kind God” can hardly
stand up to the painful experiences of children and young people.
Put bluntly: “It is just like with food—you cannot live by chocolate or baklava
alone.” (Bucher, 2004, 184)
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Journeying into a Peaceful Islam:
A Worldview Framework Approach
John Valk and Mualla Selçuk
Introduction
In the minds of many in Europe and North America, the words Islam and violence
often go hand in hand . Islam is readily associated with 9/11, ISIS, the oppression
of women, honour killings, beheadings, and more . Small wonder . The media—
newspapers, radio, television and more—report on an almost daily basis some car
bombing, suicide bomber, mass killing, or beheading committed in the name of
Allah, Islam, or the Islamic State . For all too many, nuances and fine distinctions
are arduous if not challenging and common assumptions associating Islam with
violence quickly become common declarations . A recent Pew survey revealed that
a rather alarming percentage of Republican voters who had never befriended, let
alone encountered, Muslims had negative views towards them . Increasingly, many
Muslims living in Western countries fear guilt by association .
For the more judicious but religiously adverse reader, a steady diet of Islamopho-
bic writings creates similar inferences . In attempts to purge Islam of its patriarchy
and hostilities towards women, Ayaan Hirsi Ali highlights its oppressive nature,
leaving the reader with a highly negative view of the religion (Ali, 2008) . Salman
Rushdie, in his Satanic Verses, made highly derogatory allusions to the Qur’an and
the Prophet Muhammad that many regarded as blasphemous, despite his protests
to the contrary (Rushdie, 1997) . Charlie Hebdo left little to the imagination on the
violence advocated by the Qur’an in particular and Islam in general in its cartoon
depictions . Richard Dawkins captivated and convinced many readers that not
only is God a delusion but that this delusionary God incites the faithful to vio-
lence (Dawkins, 2006) . Christopher Hitchens emphatically declared that religion,
and in particular Islam, poisons everything (Hitchens, 2007) . Such vitriol and
contempt, subtle and otherwise, by otherwise well-educated and self-confessed
tolerant writers and academics leaves many Islamic apologists rather dumbfounded,
243
244 John Valk and Mualla Selçuk
if not speechless, against a form of selective analysis that itself leads to religious
extremism and violence.
Such steady salvos of disdain hurled at Islam in the West have their impact.
Painting Islam with such a large brush has consequences, and these are often rather
unpleasant. Violence is often met with counter-violence. Muslim women are attacked
on city streets. Mosques are burned, vandalized, and perceived as training grounds
for potential terrorists. Peaceful, law-abiding Muslims long settled in a country
are still regarded with suspicion. Even those with otherwise charitable attitudes
towards immigrants are now having second thoughts about accepting into their
home countries legitimate Muslim refugees escaping persecution and violence.
It will not do, on the other hand, to whitewash Islam and Muslims of all aggressive
actions, narrowed thinking, anti-Western sentiments, or to deny the existence of
individuals or groups bent on abusing Islam to advance their own nefarious purpos-
es. Like Christianity and other religions, Islam also has its shadow side: a troubled
and turbulent history and problematic texts that appear directly or indirectly to
incite violence. These too are well known, have been adequately documented, and
cannot be ignored or denied. Yet, there is a longing, a plea and a cry, for balance,
and a better understanding. Like Christianity and religion in general, Islam is all
too often simplified, vilified, and misunderstood because of an imbalance in the
manner in which it is portrayed. This leads to what we are currently witnessing,
and what appears to be escalating. Can we not do better?
Schools remain best positioned for educating about religion. Though not the only
place, they are certainly a preeminent place to gain knowledge and awareness of the
world around us, including the religious world. For some time now they have also
laid claim to uniquely developing in students a crucial skill: critical thinking. But
have they relinquished their responsibility when it comes to teaching about religion,
even critical thinking about religion (Austin, 2004; Carroll, 2003; Connor, 2005;
Smith, 2001)? Therefore there appears to be a disturbing decrease in knowledge
and awareness of religion (Nord, 1995; Prothero, 2007).
Schools do, of course, teach about religion. But where they do the question is raised
about what they teach and how. Religion all too often becomes an easy identifier.
It has been linked readily to violence, but this leads to inaccurate if not erroneous
assumptions. During the Crusades, Christians were indeed pitted against Muslims,
but this leads the uncritical mind to assume that the bloody encounter had to do
with a struggle of one belief system seeking to triumph over the other, rather than
a struggle over power, territory, and holy places (Madden, 2014). In Ireland in the
latter part of the 20th century, Catholics were indeed pitted against Protestants, but
here again the struggle had little to do with the teachings or confessions of these two
factions within Christianity and more to do with the political and socio-economic
Journeying into a Peaceful Islam: A Worldview Framework Approach 245
divisions and subsequent hardships that had developed over the years (McGarry &
O’Leary, 1995). These two examples and more confuse correlation with causation,
resulting in an oversimplified generalization that religion is the cause of most or
all domestic and global violence (Sacks, 2015). Recent research has exposed this
gross exaggeration (Armstrong, 2014; Cavanaugh, 2009).
Students learn facts about religion (sacred places, teachings, rituals, symbols,
functionaries), but all too often these are presented as museum pieces, artifacts
of a distant past. They also become disconnected pieces of information about the
religious other. This often lacks authentic connections to lived experiences and
religion’s centuries long struggles to make sense of and give meaning to life, and
to the lives of individuals and groups of individuals in light of the circumstances
in which they live. It also often lacks real connections to the learners’ own lived
experiences—to the religious self. For learning to be effective, students require a
framework that actively engages them as they engage others and assists them in
creating meaning for themselves and understanding of others (Palmer & Zajonc
2010; Parks 2011). Can such a process applied to religion in general, but to Islam in
particular, generate greater knowledge and awareness of both self and others, and
contribute to enhancing peace and curbing violence in this world?
Religious education is best served when it establishes meaningful connections
between content and the lives of students. Rather than present students with pre-
scribed answers and information for memorization, they should be challenged to
think and process such information, and to derive and articulate meanings from
their own lived experiences as they encounter those of others. Meaningful learning
arises when challenging questions are posed: What are your beliefs? Where do they
come from? Do they change over time? Do they enliven or limit you, how and why?
How do you know when something is true or right? How do you know what you
know? What does it mean to participate in peaceful community relations? How
do you distinguish between cultural traditions and religious injunctions? What do
universal concepts such as justice, fairness, equality and benevolence mean in your
context or situation? Engaging students in these questions, especially in regard to
religious matters, may lead to understanding religion not as a source of strife and
violence but as one way to understand our deepest questions and concerns. But how
do we go about this—for religion in general and Islam in particular?
A journeying into Islam that avoids narrow and prescribed formulas requires
a comprehensive approach that solicits insights from a variety of disciplines. It
seeks a framework that goes beyond a focus on literal interpretations, prescribed
teachings, cultural expressions, traditional dress, obligatory rituals, and specified
behaviours. It entails an approach that acknowledges Islam’s rootedness in the
Qur’an yet realizes that Islam is expanded by insights gained from other sources.
245
It requires an approach that seeks wisdom in understanding how to implement

Qur’anic injunctions specific to the context in which they were revealed in the
context in which one finds oneself today. It seeks an approach that invites Muslims
to freely discover for themselves how to live by the Qur’an’s two most central tenets:
believing in God and being a good person.
A Worldview Framework
A pedagogical model that engages Muslims (and non-Muslims) in discovering a

comprehensive Islam for themselves requires a worldview framework that is trans-
disciplinary and comprehensive. It seeks to present an Islam that is open, dynamic,
and peace-loving—not prescriptive, static, or violent. What follows is a framework
that attempts to do so. It consists of five sub-frameworks, with each comprised of
six further components. The framework is grounded in theory from a number of
disciplines (McKenzie, 1991; Naugle, 2002; Olthuis, 1985; Sire, 2004; Smart, 1983;
Tillich, 1957; Valk, 2010, 2012). Each sub-framework raises thought-provoking
questions that are open-ended, revealing structures similar to various worldviews
—secular and religious—but in many cases radically different in content. Unique
to implementing this framework approach is its next step: asking learners for
their responses in the form of a non-confrontational Socratic (“And what do you
think?”) query.
This worldview framework has been used in many years of university teaching
(Valk, 2009). It has been suggested as a model for religious education in Turkey
(Selçuk & Valk, 2012). It is used in teaching indigenous students about their
worldview. It served as the methodological framework for a book-writing project
(An Islamic Worldview: Religion in a Modern, Democratic, and Secular State) that
emerged from Ankara University, where a variety of philosophical, theological,
cultural, sociological, and existential questions and issues were raised regarding
Islam (Valk et al., 2016). From the perspective of a comprehensive worldview
framework, a wide-ranging and dynamic view of Islam can take shape, one that is
not prescriptive, static, nor definitive. Rather, it encourages a journey into Islam’s
two most central tenets to explore their meanings in the context in which Muslims
may find themselves; it is essentially a journey into a peaceful Islam.
The larger worldview framework consists of five further frameworks: Personal/
Group Identity; Cultural Dimensions; Ultimate/Existential Questions; Ontological/
Epistemological Categories; and Universal/Particular Beliefs, Values and Principles
(Valk, 2010; Valk et al, 2016).
Worldview Framework
Personal/Group Identity
Religious/Cultural Dimensions
Ultimate/Existential Questions
Ontological/Epistemological Categories
Universal/Particular Beliefs, Values & Principles
Framework #1 focuses on Personal/Group Identity. It recognizes that no person is

belief-neutral, but instead that everyone approaches these two central questions,
as well as many other questions and issues of life, already having been shaped and
influenced, however implicitly or subtly, by their personal, social, and cultural
contexts. Hence, exploring and coming to understand one’s own personal circum-
stances or group identity sheds some light on why one may view things in certain
ways, nonetheless recognizing that one’s views are always subject to change.
This framework encourages individuals and groups of individuals to explore
in what way their gender, family relationships, abilities/disabilities, characteris-
tics, desires, levels of education, urban/rural and religious or secular upbringing,
socio-economic status, even ethnicity, nationality, and language might impact,
influence, or shape their views and beliefs. This is not to assert, however, that one
cannot modify or alter his or her views or beliefs; humans are, after all, dynamic
creatures. It is simply to explore facets of an individual’s worldview that have been
shaped and influenced by his or her circumstances.
Gender, Family Relationships, Orientation

Framework #1 Personal Abilities/disabilities, interests, characteristics, desires
Learning: education: levels, schools
Social Community—rural/ urban; religious/spiritual/secu-
Personal/Group lar identity
Socio-economic status: lower, middle, higher
Identity
Cultural Ethnicity, nationality, language
Framework #2 focuses on Religious/Cultural Dimensions. It recognizes that our

views of the world are shaped and influenced by stories, narratives, metanarratives,
scriptures and sacred texts, and enquires as to which ones and to what extent they
define the world for us. For Muslims it is clear that the Qur’an heavily shapes their
visions and ways of life, as does the Bible for Christians. But there might be other
metanarratives, other stories about the nature of reality, including human reality,
such as those that emerge from worldviews such as Consumerism, Neo-liberalism,
247
or Utilitarianism, which may also have some bearing on their view of life as well
as their way of life. In turn, each of these has teachings of some kind that have
been or are currently impressed upon us, accompanied by ethical principles, and
rituals and symbols that hold great sway. Exploring the communities to which we
are linked, such as religious, recreational, literary, and more, gives us a sense that
through them our worldviews may receive certain support and reinforcement.
Further, communities of whatever kind in which we are members or to which we
are linked engage in or promote experiences such as rites of passage, momentous
events or occasions, that can be of a particularly fervent, enthralling and even
ecstatic nature. These in turn serve to communicate or convince adherents of the
importance of certain thoughts, behaviours, and actions.
Reflecting on all of these matters and considering responses to them gets a per-
son a little closer to understanding where they stand, what they embrace, and what
they believe. Asking what narratives/metanarratives, teachings, ethics, rituals and
communities one embraces and is associated with is not to prescribe them as much
as it is to reflect on them, enquiring the extent to which they shape and influence
one’s own views. One’s understanding of what it means to believe in God and be a
good person, for example, may in whole or in part be grounded in one’s particular
reading of the Qur’an, teachings that relate to it, rituals associated with it, and more,
all of which impacts and influences thoughts and behaviours.
Texts, Scriptures, Narratives/Metanarratives, Stories

Framework #2 Teachings, doctrines
Ethical principles
Rituals; symbols
Community: social gatherings of the devotees: cathedrals—
sporting facilities, shopping malls, financial institutions
Religious/Cultural
Ecstatic experiences that strengthen one’s worldview: sporting
Dimensions
events, rock concerts, eucharists
Framework #3 focuses on what are often called the Ultimate or Existential Questions.
These are the “larger than life” questions that are not easy to answer yet confront
us nonetheless. Philosophers are generally tasked with them but others also raise
them: theologians, writers, poets, and more. Frequently we face them in tragic
moments and unexpected crises, yet in socially and culturally changing circum-
stances they are also often asked anew. They concern the greater meaning and
purpose of cosmic life and of human life. In our rapidly changing and diversified
life, questions pertaining to responsibilities and obligations, discerning right from
wrong and good from bad, become paramount, and especially when broaching the
larger question of how to live a good life.
The question of the existence of a power, being, or force greater than humans
meets with a variety of different responses today. Inquiring into what that power,
being, or force might be advances the question. Inquiring into the nature of such a
power, being, or force becomes even more crucial, especially for those who believe
in God, for it opens up the further question of what belief in such a God might
entail. Believing in God and living a good life is equally connected to the question
of whether there is existence of life after this life, and what its nature might be.
Framework #3 Meaning/purpose of cosmic life, the universe

Meaning/purpose of human life
Responsibilities/obligations
Ultimate or Existential Values, discerning good/bad, right /wrong
Questions
Greater force, power, being in the universe: theism, atheism,
agnosticism, and deism?
Eschatology: Life after this life
Framework #4 focuses again on Ontology/Epistemology—raising difficult questions,

centering on the nature of being, reality, the human, and the extent of our knowing.
Increasingly, as science unfolds new frontiers of knowledge and information regard-
ing these issues, these philosophical questions take on more urgency. Worldview
positions are readily staked out on these. Philosophical naturalism proclaims that
the essence of reality is material, concluding that humans are essentially “dust in
the wind”—here today and gone tomorrow. But such a view is opposed by others
who believe that there is more to our reality than the material, that there is a
metaphysical or spiritual dimension to reality, including human reality. As such,
how we define human reality may indeed be the most pertinent question of the
21st century. As our medical technology advances, how we define what constitutes
the human and to what extent we can or should manipulate the human takes on
a disquieting urgency.
Equally controversial, and similarly connected to all of this, are questions re-
garding the origin and the future of the universe. Affirming the existence of God
affirms a Creator who brought into existence the universe as we know it and has some
interest in its future, a future whose survival is not guaranteed, as we are coming
to realize, due to destructive human or cosmic behaviour. The future looks grim,
for, according to cosmologists, the sun, as it reaches beyond its mid-life supernova
stages, will begin to expand and swallow planets in its path. While all of this is still
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far into the distant future, it does beg the question whether the cosmos, let alone
humans, will yield to the will of God or self-destruct on its own.
All of this raises the further question regarding the extent of our knowledge—what
can we know with any certainty, and what are we justified in believing? Muslims
affirm God’s revelation to humans and by extension they hold that humans are
to believe in God and be good persons. But is that knowledge purely subjective
knowledge, unverifiable by science and reason? Can we know anything with any
degree of certainty? Is there objective and universal knowledge by which we can
ascertain, if not affirm, the existence of God, and God’s revelation to humans, or
is much if not all of this socially/culturally constructed? Much of this is dependent
on the sources we embrace, what we regard as verifiable knowledge, and whether
we are justified in holding these beliefs. These are crucial questions that need to be
posed especially in contexts where some religious authorities assume to know the
will of God with absolute and unquestioned knowledge. Recognizing that there is
no such thing is a sure sign of humility and would go a long way in curbing violence
associated with religious beliefs.
Framework #4 Nature of being, Ultimate nature of reality; of the human

reality, the Metaphysical or spiritual nature
human Origin/future of the universe
Ontological/ Nature of our Subjective knowledge: intuition, revelation, neural
Epistemological knowing: certain- Objective knowledge: reason, science, authority
ty of knowledge. Source, basis of knowledge
Framework #5 focuses on Universal/Particular Beliefs and Values. It examines in

further detail what most people in principle embrace quite readily. In general, most
people, regardless of their culture, religion, socio-economic status, even levels of
education, embrace notions of justice, equality, tolerance, the dignity of all people
and the sacredness of life. These beliefs and values are seen cross-culturally and
have been investigated and affirmed by research undertaken by cultural anthro-
pologists, cultural historians and more. They can be seen within remote cultures
in faraway places in the world, and even in sub-cultures in high-density areas of
populous cities.
What each particular culture, group, or sub-group understands by these universal
beliefs and values can differ in greater or lesser degrees. Our culture or sub-culture
is the conduit through which much of our knowledge and actions are influenced
and shaped. In other words, much of our knowledge and actions are culturally or
socially constructed. As such, our notion of what it means to believe in God and
be a good person is heavily influenced by our cultural and social circumstances.
So too is our understanding of certain beliefs and values. Believing in God and
being a good person also concerns our understanding of justice and just actions
towards others. Does believing in God entail harsh punishment and swift justice
or does it entail justice tempered by mercy, and how does this play out in the reality
of our particular world? When does belief in God entail the need to act justly, yet
not in violent retribution? Does being a good person entail rendering dignity to
all people, especially respecting those who are different and with whom one might
disagree, yet affording them the opportunity to live a full, free and dignified life?
Does being a good person entail rendering dignity to all people, even those who
have committed offences, so that they do not languish in prison? How might this
play out in the social and political circumstances in which one lives? Does believ-
ing in God and being a good person, especially in regard to the general concept
of the sacredness of human life, entail protection of life in all its stages, especially
its most vulnerable stages, or does it entail leniency and consideration for those in
particularly difficult personal circumstances? While in general we may embrace
the notion of equality, does belief in God and being a good person entail treating
both genders, even transgendered persons, with respect and giving them equal
opportunity to grow and develop freely and fully within the social, economic, and
political worlds in which they find themselves? In all of this, what is to be tolerated
and what is not? To what is one to be open so that we remain dynamic in coming to
understand what it means to be human in societies that are constantly changing?
All of these things also touch on concern for the environment, especially in regard
to economic, industrial, and technological advances that take a huge toll on the
environment. One does not believe in God and struggle to be a good person in a
vacuum; it is done in the context in which one finds oneself. Islam is a religion of
peace. How does its sacred scripture and tradition assist one in understanding
universal beliefs and values so that they may be enacted in a manner that becomes
a journey of peace and not violence?
Framework #5 Pursuit of justice: what is deemed to be just?

Dignity of all people: how is it expressed in everyday life?
Sacredness of life: is all of (human) life sacred?
Equality/diversity: is everyone given equal status?
Universal/ Particular Openness/tolerance: what is tolerated; what is not tolerated?
Beliefs and Values Environmental concern
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The larger worldview framework presented here, complete with its sub-frameworks,
is a means to uncovering one’s beliefs and values about a large variety of matters,
examining the contexts from which they may emerge, the places and spaces in
which they are lived out and enacted, the sources which influence and shape them,
and the knowledges and certainties in which they are embedded. The framework
challenges one to think more broadly and more deeply about their beliefs and
actions, and in a manner that is dynamic, recognizing that life changes them and
that from the perspective of Islam what it means to be human is connected to belief
in God and being a good person, and becoming a better human. It is a journey—a
lifelong journey—and each individual is responsible for his or her own journey.
While one can be assisted and guided by others, a person is ultimately responsible
for his or her own life. Hence a great challenge is to engage the learner.
The Challenge: Engaging the Learner
We never stop learning, even if our formal education comes to an end. Learning is
a life-long journey, with many twists and turns and profound moments of enlight-
enment and discovery. Humans have been uniquely gifted with enhanced powers
of critical reflection to think about the world around them, and their place in it.
Muslims are challenged to critically reflect on all of this in regard to the central
tenets of Islam: belief in God and how to be a good person. What all of this entails
does not drop from the sky, even though revelations that guide and direct come
from above. Yet they are not prescriptive but entail interpretation.
The Muslim learner is challenged, therefore, to think. The learner is challenged
to make meaningful connections between his or her own life and the religious
teachings that emerge from the Qur’an and Islamic tradition. The approach needs
to be “bottom up” rather than “top down”. Learners are encouraged to respond to
the deepest questions and concerns that arise from the situation in which they find
themselves, to the extent of their ability. Those responses become most meaningful
in breadth and depth when they include challenges and questions that arise in
turn from religion itself but also from other sources of human knowledge, such as
science, reason, and also culture.
Equally challenging in all of this is to let the questions guide the answers. Hence,
the two central tenets of Islam can become questions rather than statements: what
does it mean to believe in God rather than a dictum to believe in God; what does
it mean to be a good person rather than the injunction to be a good person. The
learner is assisted here not by means of rigid responses and prescribed answers,
those emerging from a different time and place. The learner is assisted by freely
exploring the possibilities and where they may bring the learner, all the while guided
by the teachings and wisdom of the past and recognizing that different places and
spaces open up the possibility of new or nuanced responses. All of this becomes
possible by means of an interdisciplinary worldviews approach, one that exposes
the learner to different modes of thinking and ways of being, and encourages him
or her to deepen and expand their own beliefs and the traditions from which they
come. In this manner individuals can engage in a dynamic understanding of Islam.
It is this dynamic understanding of Islam as a worldview, as a vision of life and a
way of life, that then becomes crucial for the learner. But of course, Islam has many
faces, as do many other religious worldviews. Islam is shaped by the particular
context in which it is lived. It is shaped by culture, tradition and history, both past
and present. There is not one version of Islam, as a cursory glance at history up
to the present reminds us. Yet there are certain common elements that are clearly
central to each.
Most central to Islam is the Qur’an. It is the primary and sacred source for all
things in life for all Muslims because it is revelation from God. Yet, insights from
other knowledge sources (science, reason, history, culture) become supplemental to
the Qur’an and as such are important for gaining insight into what is stated in the
Qur’an but also for many other matters of life. Taken together, these sources assist
individuals in achieving a greater understanding of life in general and especially
issues regarding belief in God and how to be a good person.
Though the Qur’an is revelation from God, it requires interpretation. It was
revealed at a particular time, in a particular place and in a particular context, yet
it is not time, place or context-bound. Nonetheless, it is to be understood in light
of the context from which it emerged. As such, what it means to believe in God
and how to be a good person may be guided by revelations emerging from a par-
ticular time, place, and context, but will need to be explored from the perspective
of a different time, place, and context. This gives individuals a basic freedom to
explore Islamic principles for themselves, and most specifically its two central
tenets. Their understanding cannot be prescribed from previous eras or different
cultural contexts, for this would freeze them in a particular time, place, and context,
rendering them static rather than dynamic. Yet those previous understandings can
give guidance and direction as one seeks to discover how to understand them in
their individual context. While this does give immense freedom to the individual,
and may appear worrisome for those who assume for themselves the role of pro-
tectors of the faith, it engages the learner in creating a dynamic understanding of
the faith for him or herself, one that they can own, rather than one prescribed to
them. Nonetheless, under the guidance and direction of those steeped in the vast
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knowledge and wisdom of the Qur’an and its traditions, it can propel learners along
a journey into a peaceful Islam.
Transformation of Islamic Education
Such an approach alone cannot curb the violence often committed in the name
of Islam, let alone religion. It is neither a panacea nor an antidote. Those bent on
committing violence will do so regardless. Yet it will present a challenge to those
who commit such violence by consistently applying a Socratic method of inquiry.
While learners will have freedom to explore what a belief in God entails and what
it means to be a good person, they will nonetheless be challenged to think about
their responses and its consistency with Qur’anic beliefs and principles. Most ben-
eficial in all of this is placing the learner in charge of exploring his or her own faith
and understanding, rather than having it prescribed according to the dictates of
another. Most difficult in all of this is transforming the manner in which Islamic
education is given; either from a top-down, prescribed, and static presentation of
Islamic beliefs and values or a bottom-up, imaginative, and dynamic exploration
of Islamic beliefs, and no less its two central tenets, through a worldview frame-
work approach as outlined above. We suggest that the latter engages the learner
in a manner that leads to a broader and deeper commitment to journeying into a
peaceful Islam, with results as follows.
A worldview approach is an interreligious approach. Max Mueller stated that
“he who knows one (religion), knows none”, implying that deepening and broad-
ening understanding of one’s own beliefs and values necessitates interaction and
comparison with other worldviews. But engagement should also include secular
worldviews, especially in regard to our global world. A further examination of
secular worldviews will get one beyond some of their superficial enticements and
probe them at a deeper level. Questions one asks of other worldviews, whether these
be religious or secular, then also become questions asked of one’s own, leading to a
deeper understanding of both self and others. Often we fear what we do not know
or understand, which in turn can lead to hatred and violence directed towards
others. Understanding and even engaging with others can go a long way to dispel
ignorance and fear.
A worldview approach transforms education when it seeks as its primary goal
not information transference or imposition but engagement of the learner in the
learning process. It recognizes that certain levels of knowledge and awareness be-
come important, for without this one cannot make informed decisions. Knowledge
and awareness of different interpretations of the Qur’an or the impact of traditional

expressions in various contexts are important means by which one can adjudicate
one’s own understandings and behaviours. But learning becomes heightened when
individuals or groups of individuals are invited to imagine what is or what could be
beyond the information they have received or beyond what they have traditionally
believed or done. Humans are dynamic beings who are on a continuous journey of
discovery and exploration, recognizing that no one view or understanding ought
to be frozen across all time or universal in scope. The realities in which we live
are dynamic and changing, and so must our sense of how to live within them. As
such our understandings of what it means to believe in God and how to be a good
person are often forced to adapt.
These two central tenets, and more, also get communicated in rituals, which
are ways and means to give expression or illustration to that which is deemed most
central or crucial to the lives of individuals and groups of individuals. Rituals
are often fixed, resulting in their loss of meaning and significance. A worldview
approach, especially one that explores how people past and present express their
religious beliefs and values, affords one the opportunity to examine how rituals
in one time and context might need restructuring in current contexts. It is the
meaning and intent behind the ritual, more so than the ritual itself, which is most
important. This opens us to possibilities to change them or some elements within
them for greater ritual enrichment.
A worldview approach resists the politicization of religion in general and Islam
in particular. It does not ignore the fact that worldviews of any kind, religious or
secular, impact and influence the societies in which they are expressed. But a focus
on exploring, even imagining, central tenets of a worldview so they lead to greater
wisdom, guidance, and direction for life, delinks our worldview from any particular
political structure bent on forcefully implementing one particular expression of it.
Its approach is an inquisitive one—searching and probing the meaning of central
tenets of one’s beliefs that will lead to a life of peace and freedom. It recognizes that
each individual will have his or her own personal journey, shaped by his or her own
particular circumstances. But the goal is the same—how to be a better human. It is
not to impose particular political structures that force religious compliance. This
inevitably and ultimately harnesses or links beliefs and values to particular social
and cultural expressions. It curtails individuals from exploring for themselves how
to understand and live out the central tenets of their beliefs.
Instead, a worldview approach to Islamic education resists rigidly imposed
beliefs and behaviours. It resists prescription, rejecting a heavy-handed top-down
imposition of what a Muslim must believe and do in order to be considered faith-
ful. Rather, it invites learners to explore for themselves, to explore Islam anew, to
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discover it as a dynamic vision of life and a way of life that frees them to imagine
anew what it means to believe in God and to be a good person. It gives space to
believers to own their beliefs in the place in which they find themselves.
Such an approach to Islamic education, or religious education in general, can
be perceived as a dangerous risk. After all, do the guardians of the faith not have
more insights into the Qur’an and the vast teachings handed down through tradi-
tion? No doubt they do. But in essence each person ultimately must determine for
himself or herself what the Qur’an says and what the traditions teach. Traditional
teachings are themselves interpretations by individuals or groups of individuals.
Of course, any particular individual will be assisted by the wisdom and insights of
the past and present, and this ought to give guidance and direction. Learners ought
to be encouraged to investigate as much of this as possible, but all in a manner that
encourages them to then seek for themselves responses to questions posed by the
worldview approach. It also allows learners latitude in their exploration, recognizing
that a journey into a peaceful Islam is a journey of a lifetime; it cannot be achieved
overnight. Can such an approach work?
The Results
A project was conducted by the Faculty of Divinity at Ankara University that began
in May 2011 and concluded four years later. It received support from the Scientific
and Technological Research Council of Turkey (TUBITAK) and consisted of five
workshops of three to four days each. It included a group of academics numbering
almost eighteen members who were both younger and older scholars—full profes-
sors, assistant professors, research assistants, religious instructors, and graduate
students—with expertise in areas such as Qur’an Studies, Religious Studies, Women’s
Studies, Worldview Studies and Cultural Studies. Each workshop focused on one
worldview framework and its components that served to guide the discussions.
Questions were raised stemming from each of the frameworks and its compo-
nents, which in turn were broadened and deepened through comparisons with
other worldviews, both religious and secular. Group members joined in intense
discussion with each other regarding the questions posed, raising further questions,
testing deeply held assumptions, probing Qur’anic texts, confronting traditional
understanding, discerning between textual mandates and cultural dictates, and
more. Insights from multiple perspectives, including the theological, philosophical,
historical, cultural, sociological and more, deepened and expanded the discussions.
At the conclusion of the project a manuscript was produced. Further, those who
participated in the project were asked to speak of their experiences. What follows
is a narrative of their responses.
Project members were encouraged to think systematically about a whole array
of questions with which they were confronted that challenged them to think anew
about their beliefs and values on a variety of issues. In addition, the worldview
framework opened up for them numerous new areas of thought. Further, learning
what other worldview perspectives thought about certain ultimate questions, such
as the meaning/purpose of life or discerning right from wrong, was an impetus to
broaden and deepen their own responses.
Within the context of a group that allowed for a variety of responses, members
were encouraged to explore, imagine, and voice their own views. They felt safe and
free to explore new thoughts and ideas that arise as a result of living in a modern era,
with all the opportunities and challenges it brings and presents to people seeking to
remain faithful to their religious beliefs. They also felt free to ask big questions; to
push the boundaries of traditional responses in order to gain new understandings
and insights. A safe environment to explore their thoughts and ideas is fundamental
to expanding the knowledge and awareness of learners.
Through this process members gained a much stronger connection to their Islamic
tradition and beliefs. They became more aware of the richness of their tradition, the
scholarship inherent in it, and the variety of views, opinions and, interpretations
arising from differing contexts. They discovered that many of the questions they
posed had been addressed in different times and places, and as such many of their
questions were answered. Yet new thoughts and ideas always led to new questions,
revealing the dynamic approach taken by many individuals. But group members
also realized that asking the right questions was important, for these often led to
new insights. Strategic questions often led to opening up new space and uncovering
new insights. This pertained to matters such as daily prayers, their meaning and
intent, who should or can engage in them, when, where and why. It pertained to
ontological questions about the nature of the human, how one defines the human,
and what it means to be human. Such questions become particularly poignant today
in light of modern medicine and modern medical technology, and controversial
issues such as abortion, prenatal screening and intervention, and doctor assisted
suicide. They raise new questions imploring new insights for which the wisdom of
the past can only serve to guide but not pronounce.
A worldview framework approach leads to a Socratic style of questioning that is
not satisfied with easy answers and simplistic theological sound bites. Constantly
asking why one holds the views that they do, and what the sources are for such
views, is not to pull the religious rug out from under a person’s feet as much as it
is to give more solid grounding to the views that they hold. It serves to make clear
257
distinctions between what the Qur’an says (or the sacred books of any religious faith)
and any particular interpretation of it; between Qur’anic injunctions and traditional
teachings; between religious principles and cultural dictates. It recognizes that
hermeneutics is both a challenge and a burden, but from which escape is difficult.
Lastly, a worldview approach confronts the learner with the essence of the
Qur’anic revelation: a God of love, justice and mercy. What then does it mean to
believe in such a God and how does believing in such a God of love, justice and
mercy lead to becoming a better person? No doubt it entails striving for justice in a
world filled with injustices. No doubt it entails confronting evil and eliminating its
devastations. But it does not advocate unrestrained violence and heedless destruc-
tion of human life and the natural world. This is not the Islamic way; it is not an
Islamic vision of life and way of life. Discussions that emerged from the workshop
were very clear on this point. Those involved in the discussions recognized that a
worldview approach invited them to journey into a peaceful Islam. It made ever
more clear to them that Islam is a religion that promotes peace and not violence.
A Resource for Teachers
A worldview approach is a valuable resource for religious education teachers. Its

value lies in engaging learners in their own journey in faith and understanding. It
invites learners to take an active role in determining their own beliefs and values
recognizing that everyone has beliefs and values; no one is neutral. It also imparts
that all learners already come with beliefs and values, however unformed these may
be, along with certain assumptions about reality and the state of the reality in which
they live, however unformed and unclear these might be. Inviting the learner to
gain more clarity in regard to these, to gain more knowledge, understanding and
awareness of what these entail, is to invite the learner into a journey of discovery.
Such an approach creates a dynamic opening up of a learner’s beliefs and values.
Beliefs and values are no longer regarded as fixed, static, and rigid. Pedagogy is no
longer fixated on what learners must know as dictates or prescriptives of their reli-
gion but rather exploratory of why such dictates or prescriptions might be relevant
and what they might mean. To communicate to young learners that Islam teaches
that they must love God and be good people fails to sufficiently engage them. To
involve them in discussions of what it means to love God or what it means to be a
good person invites them to explore, to engage their imagination. To deepen and
nuance these questions at different stages of the learning process and in age ap-
propriate ways invites learners to explore how they might think of situations that
confront them, of the realities in which they live, of improving the circumstances
with which they are faced. To love God and be a good person can never be simple
abstractions; they are lived out in the realities of daily life.
A worldview approach becomes all the more valuable in that it involves a
continuous process of questioning, reflecting, articulating, and the posing of new
questions. This is as it should be, for humans are dynamic. They are on a journey
of becoming human, a journey that lasts an entire lifetime. Religious education is
valuable in that it accompanies learners on that journey by posing questions that are
central to the religious enterprise. Religion, more so than any other discipline, has
always wrestled with ultimate questions such as the meaning and purpose of life,
whether there is a higher power, force, or being in the universe or beyond, and what
it means to be a good person. It communicates to the learners that there is more to
life than secular existence and the accumulation of material wealth and power. The
religious educator as such opens up vast new places and spaces in secular existence,
so that rays of transcendence can shine through to enrich our secular condition.
But all of that must involve a pedagogy that does not communicate that religion is
little more than quaint beliefs and rituals, and merely an add-on to an otherwise
secular this-world focus. It must involve learners in an exploration of the richness
that religions, and especially Islam, bring to the human. It is to invite the learner
into a journey to explore God and what living in the presence of God entails in a
world that is increasingly devoid of God and that tends to glorify political power,
conspicuous consumption, environmental destruction, and unrestrained violence.
It invites learners into investigating the implications of each, and how each con-
tributes to their becoming human or the unmaking of the human.
A worldview approach is all the more valuable because it is interdisciplinary and
comprehensive. Religious education becomes increasingly irrelevant if its approach
is too narrowly focused. Insights from a variety of disciplines shine valuable light
on what it means to be religious. Insights from disciplines such as psychology shed
light on the psychological makeup of the human, how character traits shape and
influence each individual, and how religious fervour can be manipulated for de-
structive purposes. Insights from sociology can shed light on the impact of culture
or socio-economic circumstances on the manner in which religious beliefs and
values are appropriated, and whether such circumstances easily lead to particular
interpretations of the Qur’an and its traditions. Such insights encourage the learner
to distinguish between Qur’anic injunctions and cultural traditions, especially in
regard to current controversial issues such as gender equality, fashion modesty, and
religious plurality. Here the learner is encouraged to shift from a prescriptive to
an explorative focus. What does gender equality mean in the society in which one
lives? What is modesty in the ever-changing fashion industry that swirls around
259
us, especially in Western countries? How should one interpret Qur’anic verses con-
demning apostasy in the context of religious plurality? And what insights do these
various disciplines bring to the fore in regard to what appears to be a secularization
trend? Does a decrease in ritual participation entail a decrease in religious faith?
These are all big questions for which the answers are not easily forthcoming, but the
questions engage the learner to journey deeper into their own beliefs and values,
to explore for themselves what all of these things may entail.
A worldview approach is also inclusive of all worldviews, both religious and
secular. Guardians of the faith often perceive the exploration of other worldviews
as a threat, as if learning about another worldview may lead to the abandonment
of one’s own. No doubt there is this risk, but only if learners are unable to see or
experience the richness of their own tradition. This places the religious educator
in an important position, and at a crucial juncture.
Investigating other worldviews is important to increase knowledge and awareness
of the other, i.e., the beliefs, values, rituals, and behaviours of others. Knowledge
of the other is important for developing critical thinking skills in general. But
knowledge of the other is also important in broadening and deepening one’s own
worldview and the questions one can bring to it. Thoughts and ideas emerging
from an investigation of the other become thoughts and ideas to bring to one’s
own worldview, not to confront its weaknesses but to explore its depths. All too
often popular writers present distorted versions: the best of one and the worst of
another. While such an approach might sell books and initially entice audiences, it
soon reveals its superficialities and inaccuracies. More helpful is to challenge one’s
own worldview to uncover the spiritual treasures within and shed the cultural
baggage that encumbers it.
The greatest challenge to religious educators today is confronting the lack of
knowledge and awareness among learners of the worldview in which they were
raised, but also the worldviews of others. Lack of awareness of religious worldviews
is particularly acute today. So powerful are secular forces that religious worldviews
are being pushed more and more to the margins and interpreted very narrowly. A
worldview approach that investigates a number of worldviews will bring them back
into public discussion so they can be seen as dynamic and robust. It also reduces
fear of the other, for we fear what we do not know. Such investigation can also reveal
the extent and reach of both religious and secular worldviews in places not seen
previously. It also makes clear that worldview neutrality is virtually impossible.
Lastly, a worldview approach gives recognition to the fact that people of various
worldviews often strive for the same thing: to live meaningfully and peacefully
in the world they inhabit. This provides opportunity for people from various
worldview traditions and positions to lock arms in common cause, recognizing
that the reasons for doing so may vary tremendously. In a world that is growing
more globally, yet rocked by violence done in the name of religion, this becomes
increasingly important.
Conclusion
Ignorance leads to fear, stereotyping, and violence. Ignorance of various religious

worldview traditions, especially that of Islam in the West, is on the rise. We have
seen the backlash this has created. It has resulted in very narrow depictions of
certain worldviews by those who embrace others, thereby unleashing violence. It
has resulted in very narrow understanding of one’s own worldview, which leads to
unleashing violence on others.
Religious education that is prescriptive fails to engage the interest and imag-
ination of the learner. Instructing the learner in the basic tenets or teaching the
basic doctrines of a religious worldview results in little more than information
transfer—knowledge that might be important but that does little in capturing
the attention and interest of the learner. Religious education that fails to mine
the richness imbedded in its traditions fails to equip the learner to deal with the
challenges of this modern world. Religious education that fails to connect with the
real world of the learner fails in being dynamic and robust. Religious education
that fails to explore religious and secular worldviews in breadth and depth fails
to explore that which is central to worldviews in general. Religious education that
fails to distinguish between scriptural injunctions and cultural traditions fails to
assist learners with the knowledge and skills necessary to live in a modern, global,
culturally and religiously diverse world.
Religions such as Islam that have survived for centuries and captured the hearts
and minds of diverse peoples and cultures are dynamic visions of life and ways of
life. They survive because they give meaning and purpose to the lives of countless
peoples throughout the world. They also survive because they engage their learners
in exploring the tenets of their beliefs and to imagine possibilities. Martin Luther
King’s famous speech, “I have a dream”, imagined the possibilities of a racially
free America and inspired countless Americans and more, even though he was
murdered in the process. Gandhi imagined a post-colonial India that could be
attained through peaceful means and worked hard to achieve it, though he too was
murdered in attempting to achieve it peacefully. While peaceful endeavours may
still occasion violence, they stand as a powerful witness against it.
261
A worldview framework is a means to engage learners into a journey of im-

agination and exploration. Combined with a Socratic approach, it engages the
learner to grow in a greater knowledge and understanding of their faith. Such an
approach to Islam becomes a valuable resource for religious education instructors
in encouraging learners to journey into a peaceful Islam. It encourages them to
see Islam as a religion of peace.
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Author Biographies
Author Biographies
Ednan Aslan is the Chair of Islamic Theological Studies at the University of Vienna .
Professor Aslan is chairperson of various working groups on the development of
curricula in Germany, Austria, and Southeast Europe, and has published extensively
on Islamic religious education in Europe . His research focuses on Islamic identity,
the future of Islamic theology, and imam training in Europe . His books include
Islamic Education in Europe (2009), Islamic Textbooks and Curricula in Europe (2011),
The Training of Imams and Teachers for Islamic Education in Europa (2013), Islamic
Education in Secular Societies (2013) and Islam and Citizenship Education (2015) .
Claude Dargent holds a Ph .D . in political science from the Sorbonne in Paris . He

has overseen research in sociology in Sciences Po since 2004 . Dr . Dargent has been a
Full Professor in the Department of Sociology (University of Paris VIII) since 2006
and is also a researcher at Cresppa (Center for Sociological and Political Research in
Paris) . He has served as Vice-President of Paris Lumières University since 2015 . He
co-edited Religion et valeurs en France et en Europe (2009) with Bruno Duriez and
Raphaël Liogier . He has also published Les protestants en France aujourd’hui (2005)
and numerous journal articles . His research concerns the sociology of religion, the
sociology of opinion, as well as values and voting behaviour .
Ranja Ebrahim is a pre-doctoral research assistant at the Institute for Islamic

Religious Education in the Centre for Teacher Training, University of Vienna . She
holds a Master`s degree in Arabic and Islamic Studies with a focus in Islamic history
from the same University . She is working on her doctoral thesis which deals with the
development of a pedagogical concept that aims to revive the God-human (student)
communication on the basis of the “occasions of revelation” (asbab an-nuzul) related
to the Qur’an and Ruth Cohn’s Theme-Centered Interaction Model (TCI) . She also
teaches at Vienna University and the Viennese Teacher’s College .
265
Wiener Beiträge zur Islamforschung, DOI 10.1007/978-3-658-18302-8
266 Author Biographies
R. Ruard Ganzevoort is Professor of practical theology at Vrije Universiteit Am-

sterdam and a Senator in the Dutch Parliament. He has published numerous books
and articles in the fields of religion, trauma and violence, and popular culture. His
recent co-edited volume Lived Religion and the Politics of (In)Tolerance (Palgrave,
2016) deals with these topics. Full details on his activities are available at www.
ruardganzevoort.nl.
Marcia Hermansen is Director of the Islamic World Studies program at Loyola

University Chicago where she teaches courses in Islamic Studies and Religious
Studies as a Professor in the Theology Department. Her books include Islam and
Citizenship Education (2015) (co-ed.), Muslima Theology: The Voices of Muslim
Women Theologians (2013), co-edited with Ednan Aslan, Shah Wali Allah’s Treatises
on Islamic Law (2010), and The Conclusive Argument from God, a study and trans-
lation (from Arabic) of Shah Wali Allah of Delhi’s Hujjat Allah al-Baligha (1996).
Dr. Hermansen has also contributed numerous academic articles in the fields of
Islamic thought, Sufism, Islam and Muslims in South Asia, Muslims in America,
and Women and Gender in Islam.
Ulvi Karagedik earned a Master’s degree in Islamic and Judeo-Christian Religious

Studies and Pedagogics from the Goethe University in Frankfurt. He also worked at
Frankfurt University. Currently, as a Ph.D. student, he serves as a university assis-
tant for Islamic religious pedagogy at the Center for Teacher Education at Vienna
University. In addition, Karagedik teaches at the University of Teacher Education
in Vienna and conducts research in the area of hadith studies, particularly focusing
on the themes of violence, democracy, freedom of speech, and religious freedom.
Kostake Milkov is a theologian, public speaker, essayist, and writer. He has authored
numerous theological essays and articles and published works of poetry and prose.
Dr. Milkov holds a D. Phil. in Patristic Studies from the University of Oxford. He is
President of the Balkan Institute for Faith and Culture, and he is a member of the
speakers’ team of the Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Europe.
Ferid Muhic holds a Ph.D. in Philosophy from Belgrad University. His interests lie
in contemporary Western thought, European philosophy from Bacon to Hegel, and
philosophical hermeneutics. He is professor emeritus at the University Sts. Cyril
and Methodius in Skopje. He served as the first President of the Bosniak Academy
of Sciences and Arts (BANU). Ferid Muhic has published numerous academic
monographs as well as four books of poetry and collections of essays and short
stories. He writes in Bosnian as well as Macedonian. His academic works have been
Author Biographies 267
translated into English, French, German, Italian, Polish, Albanian, Turkish, Malay
and Arabic. The philosophic views of Professor Ferid Muhic have been studied in
several theses as well as two books.
Wolfgang Palaver is Professor of Catholic Social Thought and Dean of the School
of Catholic Theology at the University of Innsbruck, Austria (where he earned his
doctorate). From 2007 to 2011 he was president of the “Colloquium on Violence
and Religion”. He has also published books and articles on violence and religion,
Thomas Hobbes, Carl Schmitt, and René Girard. His most recent book is René
Girard’s Mimetic Theory (2013).
Jason Renken is a Ph.D. candidate in Theology at Loyola University Chicago. His

dissertation focuses on the ways that globalization has shifted the method and
content of interreligious dialogue between Christians and Muslims. He is an ad-
junct professor at Loyola, American Islamic College, Lewis University, and Joliet
Junior College. Renken is a consultant to the Archdiocese of Chicago on Catholic/
Muslim dialogue. He is a member of the Faiths in the World Committee of the
Catholic Association of Diocesan Ecumenical and Interreligious Officers, as well
as the Catholic/Muslim Scholars’ Dialogue between the Archdiocese of Chicago
and Council of Islamic Organizations of Greater Chicago.
Martin Rothgangel is the Dean of the Faculty of Protestant Theology of the

University of Vienna and the Chair of the Institute of Religious Education. Be-
fore this he taught and conducted research at several universities (Erfurt, Wein-
garten, Göttingen) and also served as the chairperson of the “Association for
Fachdidaktik (GFD e.V.)”. Rothgangel’s research focuses on basic and empirical
questions of religious education with special attention to anti-Semitism, religion
and the natural sciences, and interreligious learning. His books include An-
tisemitismus als Religionspädagogische Herausforderung (1997), Naturwissen-
schaft und Theologie (1999), Basics of Religious Education (2014), Religionspäd-
agogik im Dialog I (2014), and Religious Education at Schools in Europe (2016).
Emil B. H. Saggau holds a Master’s degree in Theology from the University of
Copenhagen, Denmark (2014). He has been employed at University of Copenha-
gen from 2011-present and from 2011-13 worked as an assistant at the Centre for
European Islamic Thought and to the editor-in-chief of the Yearbook and Journal
for Muslims in Europe published by Brill, Leiden. His main interests lie within the
study of relations between Islam, Christianity, and various states. He has published
267
268 Author Biographies
several popular and academic articles on the subject of state and religion, religious
identity, and ecclesiology.
Friedrich Schweitzer is professor of Religious Education and Practical Theology

at the faculty of Protestant Theology at the University of Tuebingen, Germany. He
has studied and worked in Germany, Switzerland, and the United States and holds
degrees in theology and education/social science. He has published many books
on religious and moral education, including historical as well as empirical studies.
Some of his books have been translated into several languages (Danish, Dutch,
English, Hungarian, Japanese, and Korean). His latest book is on interreligious
education Interreligiöse Bildung (2014).
Mualla Selçuk graduated from Ankara University School of Divinity with a B.Sc.
degree. She was appointed as a research assistant at the same institution and later
granted a Ph.D. following the completion of her doctoral thesis on “Religious Pat-
terns in the Education of Pre-School and School Age Children.” In 1999, she was
appointed full professor in the Religious Education Department. Currently Director
of the Continuing Education Center, she has also served as Dean of the Faculty of
Divinity. Dr. Selçuk has also held a number of national positions, including her
tenure as the first female member of the Religious High Council for the Presidency
of Religious Affairs and General Director of Religious Education at Ministry of
Education. Her research includes published works on Islamic religious education,
religious education in democratic cultures, interfaith religious education, and
teaching the Qur’an.
Osman Taştan received his Ph.D. from Exeter University, U.K., in 1993. He is Pro-
fessor of Islamic Law in the Faculty of Divinity at Ankara University. He has been
affiliated as ‘visiting scholar’ in the Department of Near Eastern Studies at Cornell
University; the Oxford Centre for Islamic Studies (2014); and the Department of
Islamic Religious Studies at Friedrich-Alexander University, Germany (2015-16).
His publications include chapters on “al-Sarakhsī” and “Religion and Religious
Minorities” in Turkish as well as numerous articles on Islamic legal theory and
history. His research covers war and peace in Islamic law and the intersection
between religion, law, and politics in Islam.
John Valk graduated from the University of Toronto with a Ph.D. in Religious
Studies following the completion of his doctoral dissertation entitled “Religion
and the Schools: The Case of Utrecht”. He is Professor of Worldview Studies at the
University of New Brunswick (Fredericton, New Brunswick, Canada). His teaching,
Author Biographies 269
research and writing focus on worldviews, worldviews and education, worldviews

and leadership, worldviews and religion, and more. He has presented academic
papers at various national and international conferences, and published in vari-
ous academic journals and books. He is also Visiting Professor at the Protestant
University Darmstadt, Germany and a Distinguished Fellow of the University of
South Africa (Pretoria).
269

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Wiener Beiträge zur Islamforschung

Weitere Bände in dieser Reihe http://www.springer.com/series/13592

Religion and Violence

Wiener Beiträge zur Islamforschung

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017941509

Lektorat: Katrin Emmerich

Printed on acid-free paper

This Springer VS imprint is published by Springer Nature

Preface: Islam and Violence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

Religion and Violence: Christian and Muslim Theological

Section I: Religion and Violence

The Drama Triangle of Religion and Violence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17

Section II: Islam and Violence

The Theological Background of Violence in Islam . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113

Section III: Religious Education and the Challenge of Violence

Against Religiously Motivated Violence. Religious Education’s

Author Biographies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265

In Tetova, Macedonia, numerous renowned colleagues from Europe and beyond

This volume is based on a conference convened in Tetova, Macedonia, in October

Section I: Religion and Violence

as a helper, rescuer, judge, witness, or enabler. Since these processes function on

Orthodox theologian Kostake Milkov turns to Maximus the Confessor, a seventh

Section II: Islam and Violence

that in an age of extremism, theological and historical illiteracy, and superficial

Against the background of the escalation of anti-Muslim rhetoric, commonly

Section III: Religious Education and the Challenge

critically discussing non-peaceful religious motives while developing a critical stance

Islam, Terrorism, and Asylum Seekers

In contemporary Europe, Islam functions prominently in the two—separate yet

The Drama Triangle and Religion: the Perpetrator

The Drama Triangle and Religion: the Victim

In these emerging fields, spirituality and religion are awarded a somewhat

The Drama Triangle and Religion: the Bystander

can be legitimately identified as such. Meanwhile there is a tendency to conflate

Twemlow, S. (2000). The roots of violence: converging psychoanalytic explanatory models

A History of Anti-Religious Prejudice

By demonstrating in his lifelong research that aggression is universally present

Violence as an Intrinsic Part of Modern Secular Society

The Rise of the Liberal State

when committed by a Muslim, is instantly identified as “terrorism” by all mass

Every fundamentalist movement that I have studied in Judaism, Christianity and

The Error of Forced Secularization

Contemporary Terrorism Leads to an Identification of

Terrorist attacks by religiously motivated people have led to an identification

Today terrorist attacks by religiously motivated people have further contributed

Imagine … a world with no religion. Imagine no suicide bombers, no 9/11, no 7/7, no

Human Beings, not Religions, Cause Violence

Mimetic Rivalries as the Main Cause for Human Violence

By referring to competition Girard declares mimetic or imitative desire to be a

former Chief Rabbi of the United Hebrew Congregations of the Commonwealth,

Violence and the Sacred

The Abrahamic Exodus from Archaic Religions

French philosopher Michel Serres summarized Girard’s distinction between the

Global Terrorism as a Perverted Offspring of the

tian persecution of Jews. Today there is no terrorist group in the world—secular

God and Violence

This distinction is closely linked to her reflections on “atheism as a purification”

To listen to the Father’s silence is to abandon oneself to his withdrawal, to conform

Palaver, W. (2013a). Mimetic theories of religion and violence. In M. Juergensmeyer, M.

In 2006, the weekly created a controversy by publishing the twelve Muhammad

Part One: The integration of Muslims into French society

My conclusion, based on analyzing polling results, is that a sense of national unity

(Harris for LCP, January 12th-13th, 2015)