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A response to Sam Harris - and a challenge to us all

Posted in Irshaddering Thoughts, Q & A on May 25, 2008

In the past few days, this blog has hosted a robust debate about whether ardent atheists need to reform as much as uncritical Muslims do.

To appreciate how constructive the debate has become, first read this from my friend, Shahid, who started it all. Then read this response from Sam Harris, author of The End of Faith and Letter to a Christian Nation.

Now you’re ready to read Shahid’s reply to Sam, along with a challenge to us all:

Clearly I’ve been served. I have no defense against the indictment of intellectual laziness. It was, indeed, sloppy of me to lump Sam Harris in with Christopher Hitchens and Richard Dawkins. My sincere and unqualified apologies to Sam.

Still, our perspectives diverge in ways worth noting. Before I go there, let me summarize where Sam and I agree.

I have no bones with his criticism of religious dogma and the evils done in its name. Islam today is dominated by fundamentalism to an extent that’s more severe than in any other major faith. Contemporary Islam is particularly infested with an aversion to debate, dissent and intellectual honesty.

So I respect that political correctness doesn’t hinder Sam from speaking his mind. I also respect that his own intellectual honesty forces him to break ranks with his fellow liberals and fellow atheists (i.e. in his promotion of what he calls contemplative practices). Our perspectives converge up to this point.

Here’s where we part ways. Let me repeat the final sentence in his response to me:

“I have spent over two years on silent retreats… And yet, I am an even harsher critic of Islam than Dawkins or Hitchens is. This is not an accident. It is, in fact, very difficult to think of a perspective that makes the contents of the Qur’an seem less wise, useful, necessary, or noble than the perspective of vipassana.”

Conversely, vipassana meditation has brought me to a place of practical compassion for observant Muslims. I’m not saying Sam isn’t a compassionate being. Practically speaking, though, I can’t see how a creative, non-violent solution to Islamic fundamentalism can emerge from Sam’s blanket condemnation of the Qur’an.

In an effort to empathize with him, I must admit that he asks a valid and incisive question: How do I reconcile the noble perspective of vipassana with the Qur’an, which he views as “less wise, useful, [or] necessary”?

Like Sam, I don’t draw a cozy equivalence between vipassana meditation and organized Islam. Vipassana is a dogma-free practice that cuts right to the root of misery and shows how to eradicate suffering. Its main virtue is not as an intellectual or spiritual ritual but as a practical means to achieve peace of mind and deep empathy for my fellow beings. It’s a no-nonsense and results-oriented technique exercised by people of many religions and no religion at all.

By contrast, the Qur’an is considered sacred by its followers and forms a crucial basis of their religious identity. Unlike Sam, I don’t believe the Qur’an is bereft of any positive moral worth. In fact, I read much in it that contests the dogmas practiced so uncritically by so many Muslims.

As Irshad routinely reminds us, the Qur’an has three times as many verses calling on Muslims to think, reflect and analyze than verses that preach what’s absolutely right or wrong. That’s a literal challenge to literalism itself!

Of course we can find scriptural support for blind faith and fear, but the Qur’an contains far more complexity than that. The more I meditate, the more I see a deeper meaning to much of its contents, a meaning premised on infinite mercy and compassion, personal responsibility, tolerance, even love.

Now back to vipassana. It’s an art that demands approaching life through the lens of harmony in thought, word and deed. I wouldn’t be exhibiting these attributes if I said, “Ok, all you Muslims, listen up. This book you recite: It’s the 7th century superstitious ramblings of an illiterate and you’re fools for clinging to it. Vipassana, on the other hand, is the bomb-diggity. For the love of Allah, you’d better adopt this path before we all perish. Got it?”

To promulgate such a message would be to serve my ego, not diminish it. I’d be reinforcing my sense of superiority, not eradicating it.

Vipassana teaches me an attitude of non-violence. That’s not to be confused with pacifism, which is a political ideology that some meditators adopt and others, like me, don’t. After all, someone committed to non-violence can’t stand by when the peace of others is being violated. So I don’t deny the Islamist threat to all our freedoms. Nor do I advocate relativism.

Rather, an attitude of non-violence continually compels me to consider which type of conflict is unavoidable, and which type will only serve to further harm others and buttress my ego. As a serious vipassana meditator, I know through experience that when I act out of self-righteous anger, the first person I damage is me.

Honoring this knowledge is what starts reversing the process of misery and forms the essence of a non-violent mind. It launches me into the fray of responsible civic engagement with eyes and heart wide open, even toward my enemies.

Irshad’s mission of democratizing ijtihad, Islam’s tradition of independent thought, seems like a compassionate common ground in the necessary fight against Islamist dogma. I call it “common” ground because ijtihad has a rich historical pedigree that’s fully compatible with the principles of modern, pluralistic, open societies. Its very basis is freedom of thought. And since ijtihad is an Islamic tradition, it doesn’t require faithful Muslims to abandon the identity they cherish.

Practically, supporting ijtihad means supporting those Muslims, many of them young, who are willing to be agents of moral courage in their communities and who boldly use the Qur’an to defy harmful reigning orthodoxies.

It means creating a space that affords Muslims the human dignity and human right to openly question and explore faith on their terms.

It means encouraging them to deepen their relationship with questions, encounter spirituality over and above rituality, and discover a shared human consciousness.

Irshad can bear witness that renewing ijtihad is a life and death business. It doesn’t mean sanitizing the practices of many Muslims or ignoring the bloodthirsty bits of sacred text. Ultimately, it means rocking the status quo from a foundation largely devoid of practical compassion, in both the secular and religious camps.

After reading Sam’s reply and seeing how he commendably organized a meditation retreat for his fellow scientists, I realized a remarkable omission on my part. While I challenged my atheist friends to sit a vipassana session, I let my Muslim brothers and sisters off the hook.

So here it is Muslims — reform, moderate, orthodox, or otherwise. You’ve officially been served. In the spirit of ijtihad, I challenge you to undertake a ten-day vipassana retreat. That includes you, Ms. Irshad Manji.

And just because Irshad calls me a Bu-Mu (Buddhist Muslim), please don’t assume I’m asking anybody to become a Buddhist. I’m not. Vipassana has nothing to do with institutional religion. See for yourself. I’m speaking to Muslims in Tehran too, where there’s a vipassana center.

While I’m at it, why stop at Muslims? Jews, Hindus, Protestants, Catholics, agnostics, Episcopalians, Jains, pagans, Mormons, witches, dreads, francophones, World of Warcraft elves, communists, Stalinists, snowboarders, waitresses, friends, enemies… Consider yourselves all officially served.

In case you’re wondering, vipassana is free. You hear that, my fellow South Asians? (*Wink*) If it sounds like I’m trying to convert, I assure you of this: The only conversion I hope to see is from misery to happiness.

If you do sit a retreat and feel like having company, let me know when and where: mr.shahid.man@gmail.com. I just might join you.

South-Asian-girl post-script from Ms. Irshad Manji: Did Shahid say “free”? Hell, I might join you.