Given that René Girard is one of the premier theorists of violence in recent years, and that many people associate Islam with terrorist violence, the title of Adnane Mokrani’s latest book, Toward an Islamic Theology of of Nonviolence: In Dialogue with René Girard, is intriguing and hope-inspiring. Girard’s own comments on Islam were sparse and lacked a detailed analysis, an aspect of his work that Mokrani calls “Girard’s silence.” In the book’s introduction, the author states his purpose: “This research is an attempt to fill a gap: interpreting Girard’s silence about Islam and developing an Islamic theology of nonviolence, a mystical narrative theology of radical peace” (xxi).
The first chapter, “Theory and Principles,” provides a helpful overview of Girard’s mimetic theory, as well as comments on the Decalogue (with a table of Qur’anic parallels), sections on Satan in Girard and the Qur’an, and the “thirst for peace” in Islamic tradition. The text includes many quotations from the Qur’an, but the reader may have the impression that these are “cherry-picked” and that those Islamist radicals who support violence would be able to provide alternative interpretations of the quotations, contradicting the author’s claim that they support nonviolence. The chapter also contains comments on pluralism and on the question of whether or not Muslims believe that Christ was crucified. It continues with sections on “The Divine Models” and “Practical Ethics,” interspersing ideas from Girard and quotations from the Qur’an. In the discussion of “No Compulsion in Religion,” the author writes that embracing or leaving a religion are acceptable options for a person within Islam. This seems to contradict the widespread reality in many Muslim societies that if a person were to leave Islam, they might be executed; one expects the author to face this issue head-on and provide a full discussion, but he does not. In Saudi Arabia there are no churches, by law; the author does not address topics such as that.
In chapter 2, on “Qur’anic Narratives,” Mokrani examines “the meaning of being human,” “the first fratricide,” “Abraham’s sacrifice,” “Joseph and his brothers,” Moses, King Solomon, and other topics—always seeking to show that there are substantive parallels between Girard’s reading of the Bible and the contents of the Qur’an. He seeks to show that the pathway of spiritual growth is found in both schools of thought; the destinations of this pathway are the purification of the human soul and societal nonviolence.
Chapter 3 turns to historical narratives concerning the birth and spread of Islam. The author notes that just as Christianity can be criticized for its crusades, so also can the spread of Islam. The expansion of Islam, all the way from near the borders of China to southern France, can be criticized as a kind of “war machine” (79) that sought material gain through loot and taxes, and as an example of easing internal tensions by always seeking an external enemy, a scapegoat. The author critiques modern extremist groups that twist the idea of jihad into a “perennial war” and a “management of savagery” that has “nothing to do with God, which Islam and its Prophet preached. There is a vital need to free ourselves from this knot that has caused significant damage to Islam’s image among its people and in the world” (80).
Mokrani argues that Muslim thinkers who have fomented this type of savagery have “hijacked” Islam, a point that was made by Girard in his post 9/11 comments. This “temptation” to violence has been present in Islam from its origins, the author argues, but he insists that it is “not essentially or necessarily ‘Islamic’ in the religious sense of Islam”(82). The last few pages of the book refer to leaders of nonviolent movements outside the Muslim world, such as Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Nelson Mandela, and they note that there were in the Muslim world also similar leaders such as Abdul Ghaffar Khan, Maulana Abul Kalam Azad, Jawdat Said, and others.
My critique of this book concerns this conclusion; I was left hoping that the book would have begun with these nonviolent Muslim thinkers instead of ending with them, as a kind of appendix. If the book were flipped, and the thoughts and actions of these leaders were examined in depth to show that they discovered on their own the same sort of insights that Girard had discovered, the text would have been much more interesting and useful. Mokrani uses the many quotations from the Qur’an in the book to make a case for the “religious sense of Islam”(82) as being nonviolent, but the text of Islam’s holy book is also known to the violent ideologues, and they think that they are the true representatives of the religion. For this reason, a much deeper articulation of the debate between these camps is needed.
The “problem from hell” that is the Palestinian / Israeli conflict is not addressed by the author in any substantive way at all. The Palestinian / Israeli conflict has, by now, more than a century of twists and turns, with atrocities committed by both sides. This situation is low-hanging fruit for a Girardian commentary on enemy brothers who resemble each other more and more in their actions, even as they see only a Manichaean difference between “us” and “them.” Each side can claim, rightly, that it has been victimized, and it is this that fuels the self-righteous spiral of apparently never-ending violence. Girard says that Christ’s prayer from the cross “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” is the key to the possibility of human beings becoming conscious of themselves as violent persecutors, instead of hurtling forward through history driven only by the scapegoat mechanism. The author leaves me wondering whether there is a parallel possibility in the “religious sense of Islam.” He clearly believes that there is, but how will it become an active principle permeating Islam as a whole? We still don’t know.
Charles K. Bellinger is professor of theology and ethics at Brite Divinity School.
Charles K. Bellinger
Date Of Review:
July 12, 2024
