BALANCED ISLAMIC EDUCATION
AL-GHAZALI'S UNFINISHED LEGACY

For Conference on Higher Education and Peace Culture: Whither Africa?
The Council for Research in Values and Philosophy
University of Lagos
in collaboration with CRVP, Washington D.C.
21 April 2010


The 20th and emerging 21st century world has experience an explosion of knowledge in all fields. Apart from blaming its occasional misuse, Muslims and non-Muslims alike are caught up by the craze.

But what makes for a balanced education? And how has a balanced education been achieved, in the past and in the present?

Centuries ago, the sciences were far less developed, and education less widespread. Yet, right from the days of the early Greeks all areas of available knowledge were zealously cultivated by small circles of encyclopedist savants, often patronized by progressive rulers. This tradition passed to the Arabs, particularly under the `Abbasids and in Umayyad Spain. From there it passed to medieval Europe and continued under the auspices of the Church and of civil rulers until the knowledge explosion of modern times.

Today's situation differs from the past in three notable respects:

  1. It is characterized by specialization, so that no one man can be a master of all branches of knowledge.
  2. There is selectivity of interest, and some areas take priority over others. This is determined largely by the market. Is an area of research relevant enough to justify the investment?
  3. The priorities are generally secular topics, so that religious studies are often the first to be excluded from the academic scene. In the past theology or religious studies was the queen of the sciences, and the balance of research interest was often upset to the disadvantage of secular subjects.

In view of the above, which schools today, anywhere in the world, can claim to offer a balanced education? That is an open question. An argument about what goes into a balanced education raged in al-Ghazālī's day. His position marked a turning-point in the history of Islamic education.

To understand his impact, we must first trace the progress of education in the Islamic world up to his time, then examine his position, with its repercussions up to the present day, and finally assess how the struggle for educational balance is going in today's Muslim world.

1.     Education in the Muslim world before al-Ghazālī

Professor E. El-Garh observes that many pre-Islamic attitudes survived the Islamic revolution in the Arabian peninsula. Some of these were carried over into Islamic education: [1]

  1. Excessive glorification of the Arabic language, leading to emphasis on form rather than content,
  2. A pride of race, culture and language (عصبية), together with a contempt for anything foreign,
  3. A reliance on memorization, together with shallowness of thought and lack of inquisitiveness and philosophical analysis.

The Islamic era spread literacy through the Qur'an and Ḥadīth texts and the linguistic, exegetical and historical studies that accompanied it. The greatest flourishing of science took place under the `Abbasids. During that period a large scale infusion of foreign learning took place, mostly of Greek origin. This was further developed by some interested Muslims, but was never assimilated into the mainstream of Islamic culture and education.

El-Garh states:

Education did not become absolutely liberal or truly humanistic, since the central motivation of that expansion remained a religious one. Whatever was learned, developed or translated was that which would first and foremost help establish the religion of Islam or assist its government and community to retain their predominance. There is very little evidence that knowledge was developed for its own sake during that period or even that knowledge was developed for the purpose of making man's life on this earth better. That is why, when the Greek heritage fell to the hands of the Muslim scholars and became available for translation, only works of philosophical or medical nature were translated, while works of literary or artistic nature were ignored... The expansion in Islamic education at this time was more quantitative than qualitative. It is no wonder therefore that many of the limitations alluded to above were maintained in spite of the educational expansion of the golden age.[2]

2.      Al-Ghazālī's position

Of al-Ghazālī (d. 111) it has been said that "classical Arabic literature contains no theory of education more authoritative, systematic and comprehensive than had been bequeathed by al-Ghazālī."[3] Al-Ghazālī, however, as we shall see, is an outstanding spokesman for the extreme position that banishes practically all learning but religious studies. It is worthwhile first to examine his statements, then ask why he held such a position, so that the values he was trying to safeguard might be incorporated in a better model of humanistic education that we could defend today.

Al-Ghazālī's position on education revolves around his discussion of knowledge or science (علم). This term can refer to "science" in the strict sense of general facts ascertained by observation or measurement together with causal analysis, or for any sort of information, experience or skill; it can be learned by oneself or form another or can be had by revelation or inspiration. Al-Ghazālī spoke of knowledge in all these senses, yet in this paper I am concerned particularly with his evaluation of scientific teachable knowledge; this includes both human and religious sciences, and is distinguished from knowledge which depends on Sufic experience or direct revelation.

Al-Ghazālī talks about the value of knowledge in several of his many works. Most representative of his thought on this subject are:

  1. His early work, Tahāfut al-falāsifa (written in 1095)
  2. His great work, Ihyā' `ulum ad-dīn, Book I, chs. 1-7
  3. His short later work, Ayyuhā l-walad, and
  4. Al-Munqidh min aḍ-ḍalāl.

The first work was written during his first period of teaching, the second and probably also the third during his period of retreat and devotion to Sufism from 1095 to 1106, and the fourth around 1108 after he had resumed his teaching in Nishapur.[4]

2.1             The Ihyā'

In the Ihyā', Book I, ch. 2, al-Ghazālī first notes the old philosophical distinction between practical معاملة) and speculative (مكاشفة) knowledge. Practical knowledge is necessary to fulfill duties binding every individual (فرض العين), which are three:

  1. Knowledge of the shahāda, the basic elements of belief, without any need for proofs or detailed explanations,
  2. Knowledge of those acts which everyone is required to perform, and
  3. Knowledge of what one is forbidden to do.

Communal duties (فرض الكفاية) also require practical knowledge, both human and revealed. Examples of human knowledge which is a communal duty-fulfilled by any representatives of the community-are medicine, arithmetic and the basic skills needed for human living. Detailed knowledge of these matters is not obligatory but only recommended. Forbidden knowledge includes magic, talismans etc. Knowledge which is neutral or merely permitted (مباح) includes poetry and history.

Human knowledge comes up for discussion again later in chapter 2, where al-Ghazālī divides philosophy into four parts:

  1. Mathematics (geometry and arithmetic), which is legitimate,
  2. Logic, which is only part of Kalām (philosophical theology)
  3. Divinity (الإلاهيات, a central area of metaphysics), which belongs to Kalām, and
  4. Natural science, which can be false (as astrology and magic), useless (detailed knowledge of the physical universe), or useful (medicine).

Revealed knowledge (شرعية), which is also practical, is another communal duty. It includes:

  1. The sources (الأصول): the Qur'an, the Sunna, Consensus, and reports of those who witnessed the life of the Prophet,
  2. The branches (الفروع): legal science applied to this world, and knowledge of the next world which, effectively, is the science of moral virtues.
  3. Preliminary knowledge: Arabic language and grammar, which is necessary to understand the Qur'an, and
  4. Complementary knowledge, such as how to recite or interpret the Qur'an and how to assess traditions.

Speculative knowledge—for all, yet pursued especially by Sufis—is a gift of God illuminating the heart to understand the reality of God and the deeper meaning of the Qur'an. This knowledge and knowledge of one's individual duties, such as how to live virtuously, are far more important than knowledge of fiqh. The latter deals with legal points much less vital to man's primary purpose in this world which is to prepare for the next life.

In summary, al-Ghazālī defines valuable knowledge (علم) in chapter 3 as knowledge of God, his signs, his deeds for his servants in the created world. In conclusion he says: وكان العلم بالقرآن العلم كله "Qur'anic knowledge is all knowledge."

2.2             Ayyuhā l-walad

This brief work begins by exhorting the Sufi sālik, or disciple, to concentrate his interests on God and his own salvation, leaving other matters. Only one statement contains a list of the various branches of knowledge: "What do you gain by mastering knowledge of Kalām, legal discrepancies, medicine, genealogical accounts, poetry, astronomy, prosody, grammar and declensions but a waste of your time and neglect of the Majestic."[5]

Al-Ghazālī goes on to emphasize that action is the only important thing, not knowledge. In fact, action is a special avenue to the truth, because it gives a person a taste (ذوق) for reality which can only be had by experience, not by being taught.

The sālik needs to know only four things:

  1. Correct belief
  2. Good advice—and for this he needs a senior man to direct him (مرشد)
  3. How to reconcile with people who complain against him, and
  4. As much of Sharī`a as is necessary for his work or to fulfill God's commands.

As for other sciences, he need know only what is necessary for his salvation.

2.3             Al-Munqidh min aḍ-ḍalāl

The relevant section of this book is towards the beginning where al-Ghazālī distinguishes the classes of seekers after truth (أصناف الطالبين). These are the masters of Kalām (theologians), the Bāṭinites (Shi`ites), the Philosophers and the Sufis. The section on Kalām contains nothing new. The discussions on the Bāṭinties and Sufis are important for al-Ghazālī's idea of truth and how to attain it, but what interests us here is his attitude to the secular learning embodied in "philosophy".

Al-Ghazālī first distinguishes philosophers according to their attitude to religious beliefs.

  1. There are the Materialists (الدهريون) who think that the world exists by itself forever without a creator.
  2. Then there are the Naturalists (الطبيعيون) who admit that the world is created by God, but deny the survival of the human soul and the consequences an afterlife has for them.
  3. Finally the theists (الإلاهيون) have Aristotle as their forefather. His chief Muslim followers are Ibn-Sīnā and al-Fārābī.

Al-Ghazālī evaluates the achievements of the philosophers area by area:

  1. Mathematics is not objectionable in itself, but dangerous if Muslims demand for religious beliefs proofs with the clarity and cogency of mathematics, or if they deny the validity of mathematics and are then embarrassed by predicted eclipses, for example.
  2. Logic is likewise unobjectionable in itself, but it can be used loosely in religious matters, giving errors the appearance of demonstrated certainty.
  3. Natural science is also unobjectionable except when speculations are made that nature is self-sufficient. Al-Ghazālī here refers to his Tahāfut where such speculations are refuted. He repeats the occasionalist viewpoint common among Muslim theologians that nature has no power to act on its own.
  4. Metaphysical theology (الإلاهيات) is where the Philosophers mostly erred. Al-Ghazālī refers to his Tahāfut for twenty of their errors in this area, particularly the denial of a bodily resurrection, the denial that God knows singular things, and the affirmation of the eternity of the world.
  5. Politics is an area where nothing objectionable has been heard, because, al-Ghazālī says, the Philosophers are merely repeating what the prophets taught.
  6. In ethics, al-Ghazālī asserts, the Philosophers borrowed heavily from the Sufis. Their books are dangerous, however, because simple readers may reject the truth they contain because of errors also present, or they may credit the authors with originating the truth they write, and then accept the errors along with the truth.

2.4             Summary and critique

In the foregoing treatises it is clear that for al-Ghazālī knowledge at its best is religious knowledge, particularly that contributing to purity of heart and Sufic awareness of God. Secular knowledge is begrudgingly accepted in so far as it contributes to the necessities of life, such as medicine. Any other investigations or speculations are either useless, risky or definitely harmful. The Tahāfut in particular denies the competence of philosophy to say anything about God and human destiny.

Al-Ghazālī incurred the criticism of his conservative Ḥanbalite contemporaries both for delving into philosophical studies with an open mind and for introducing much philosophical thinking and method into Islamic theology, for example syllogistic argumentation.

On the other hand, because of his strong influence on Muslim thought, his opposition to secular learning contributed to the decline of scientific philosophical studies which began in the Islamic world about this time. Yet other factors contributed to this decline. In the eastern part of the Islamic world there was no philosopher of note contemporary with al-Ghazālī (Ibn-Sīnā died in 1037), and it seems people were turning instead to a theosophical Ḥikma philosophy, perhaps in conjunction with the Isma`īlī Bātinite movement which al-Ghazālī attacks.[6]

In Spain the study of scientific philosophy continued for a time, culminating in Ibn-Rushd (d. 1198). Many of his philosophical works perished in the flames of Muslim religious zealots. Some of these survived in Hebrew and Latin translations.

If it achieved anything, al-Ghazālī's negative attitude to philosophy reinforced and gave rationale to a process already in motion which put secular learning to sleep in the Islamic world until the awakening of the 19th and 20th centuries.

Al-Ghazālī's model of education can be summarized under the following points:

  1. The guiding principle is that education must serve man's primary purpose in this world, which is to prepare for the next life.
  2. Education, therefore, must be concerned first of all with those beliefs and practices which are necessary for this goal.
  3. Knowledge of other human or religious matters have value only in so far as they contribute to man's ultimate goal.
  4. Scientific theories sometimes contradict basic articles of faith; in this case religion exercises a corrective function, since a scientific theory cannot be true if it contradicts revealed truth.

Al-Ghazālī's guiding principle, that education should serve man's final goal, is incontrovertible for monotheistic believers. His application of this principle, however, is too narrow. He saw minimal usefulness and maximum danger in the human science. He rightly saw the limited value of religious legal studies (Fiqh), yet he looked on theology (Kalām) only as a tool for refuting errors. In restricting himself to the apologetic function of theology, he missed its sapiential function, which is to penetrate ever more deeply the mystery of God and the meaning of the articles of belief.

Al-Ghazālī correctly saw the corrective function of theology in relation to the human sciences, yet he did not allow for their autonomy. Logic, for him, was absorbed into theology. He begrudgingly allowed the practical functioning of arithmetic and medicine, but condemned any pretense of the human sciences to speculative certainty. Fundamentally this was because of his Ash`arite occasionalist view of the physical world, where by nature (الطبيعة) does not exist and therefore neither does natural regularity or causality; only God is the direct and immediate cause of everything that happens. So, with nature unpredictable, there can be no science of nature.[7] The problem of miracles breaking the laws of nature, however, admits of other solutions than the Ash`arite occasionalism maintained by al-Ghazālī.[8]

3.      The repercussions of al-Ghazālī's position

Al-Ghazālī was the last great representation of this golden age in the Islamic world outside Spain. With the Mongol conquest of Baghdad in 1258 an age of decadence (عصر الجمود) set in, typified by the study of set texts which were slavishly memorized, commented on and annotated, as El-Garh comments:

Education in a typical Islamic institution like al-Azhar can be called the "text education", for the whole process of the educational activity of the student and the teacher at every level in the educational ladder, revolved around a chosen text-book, whether the holy Qur'an, the prophetic tradition or any other venerated text for every subject, and exhaustive discussions were carried out not about the topics, points or theories made by the author in the book, but about the way the author formulated his style. The attention was invariably on the "form" rather than the "content" of the text. This normally produced the shallow, verbose, pedantic type of scholar, rather than inquisitive theoretician, with a deep and comprehensive look at each situation under review and a simple straightforward style for analyzing it. Again, such an attitude normally resulted in a great deal of attention being given to the details at the expense of the total whole.[9]

As a consequence of this educational system, El-Garh observes, a certain other-worldliness took over. This life and its requirements were considered ephemeral and of little important, compared with preparation for the hereafter.

4.      Westernized Islamic education

A radical change came with the impact of modern Western civilization in the 19th and 20th centuries. The contrast between the exposure to foreign learning and that of the `Abbasid period is well summed up by El-Garh:

On the first occasion, although the Muslim community was intellectually still inferior to the source of the foreign influence, it was politically and militarily stronger; this put the Muslims in a position to control the foreign influence and to determine how much of it they could accommodate or assimilate and which part of it they should reject. When in the end, they decided to contain that foreign influence and completely boycott it, they were capable of doing so.

On the second occasion, however, the foreign influence caught the Muslims in a state not only of intellectual complacency but also of extreme political and military weakness. They were, therefore, incapable of controlling the overwhelming foreign influence or containing its results. The final outcome of these two occasions of contact between Muslims and non-Muslims in the fields of learning and scholarship were, therefore, proportionately different; on the first occasion the knowledge of the non-Islamic nations was Islamized, while on the second occasion the education of the Muslim world was Europeanized.[10]

Describing the state of Islamic education in 1967, A. L. Tibawi says that the curriculum had become completely European, except for Arabic language and Islamic religion.[11] Practical, not theoretical, considerations brought about this change:

  1. Foremost was the need to master the science and technology which are the basis of modern communications, trade and production.
  2. Second was the need to achieve political, economic and cultural autonomy, particularly in the struggle against Zionism.
  3. Third was the need to enlist Arab Christians in the national struggles on the basis of Arab unity and general religious principles without particular stress on Islam.

This turn-about, which placed religion in a small compartment of an overall secular scheme of education, was fairly general throughout the Muslim world for much of the 20th century.

5.      A reaction

A reaction came about because of several factors that emerged in the second half of the 20th century:

  1. Newly independent Muslim states, with liberal secular constitutions, failed to deliver the prosperity and social justice that the people expected.
  2. The foundation of the state of Israel, which expanded its boundaries In several wars, stimulated Palestinian resistance and the sympathy of the entire Muslim world for the Palestinian cause. This set the Muslim world in opposition to Europe and the United States, which backed Israel.

For these reasons, Islamic fundamentalism came to the fore in the late 1970s, affecting all Muslim countries to one degree or another. The alliance between Muslim and Christian Arabs cracked, and both socialist and Western legal and educational structures began to be dismantled in favor of Sharī`a law and an education pervaded by Islam.

The fundamentalist reorientation, however, did not exclude Western technological input, training and trade. This input is interwoven with secular values which the fundamentalist movement has tried to filter out. It has not, however, been very successful in doing so, or in constructing a viable synthesis of Islam with the gamut of contemporary science and culture.

Rather than serious analysis on a theological and philosophical level, one meets manifestos, slogans and the blaring of Qur'an chanting and preaching at every possible interval.

6.      The present challenge

The challenge remains for Islam to allow its meaning and inspiring force to penetrate and truly integrate all that is valid in contemporary scientific culture into a single harmonious Islamic vision and way of life. I propose the following as some of the constitutive elements of a balanced education:

  1. It goes without saying that knowledge of God must considered the supreme wisdom. Knowledge of God is more important than any other knowledge. Moreover his sovereignty over every aspect of our lives must be acknowledged. Allegiance to him is not negotiable. Al-Ghazālī was eloquent and correct about this point.
  2. Yet here some discernment is required. Are all precepts equal, or are there some major ones which are always and everywhere obligatory, and others that admit of exceptions, circumstantial adaptation etc. Such distinction is necessary to prevent fanaticism, which is the exaggeration of lesser values to the expense of greater values.
  3. The full range of sciences must be included, and their autonomy recognized. Al-Ghazālī woefully underestimated the value of science both for enhancing human life and for revealing God's creative wisdom.
  4. Assertions made by scientists need critical examination. Incontrovertible facts cannot contradict what is incontrovertibly revealed. But revelation can contradict some scientific speculation. Al-Ghazālī rightly cites the philosophical theory of the eternity of the world. And scientific facts can contradict some theological speculation, for example, al-Ghazālī's denial of the presence of energy or causality in the world.
  5. The theoretical foundation of science can be enriched by an Aristotelian philosophy of nature. This itself needs a critical reading. Thomas Aquinas provides a clearer and purer exposition of it, but did did filter out all Aristotle's errors, e.g. his geocentric universe and his failure to apply the concept of "impetus" to the heavenly bodies.[12] Ibn-Sīnā and the other Arab philosophers fail on these same points, and also adulterate Aristotle with a neo-Platonic perspective.
  6. A balanced education should also include training in one's own language and in some foreign languages, with a familiarization with one's own culture and history and that of others. It is important not only to have theoretical education, but also to appreciate the art, the music, the history of one's own and other peoples.

[1] "The philosophical basis of Islamic education in Africa," West African Journal of Education, 15 (1971), p. 8.

[2] Ibid., p. 14.

[3] A.L. Tibawi, Islamic education, p. 39.

[4] Cf. Maurice Bouyges, Essai de chronologie des oeuvres de al-Ghazālī (Beirut: Imprimérie Catholique, 1959). See n. 16 for the Tahāfut, n. 28 for the Ihyā', n. 46 for Ayyuhā l-walad -This work is basically the same as Khulāṣat at-taṣānīf-n. 5 for al-Munqidh. In this paper I have used for the Tahāfut the edition of M. Bouyges (Beirut: Imprimérie Catholique, 1927/1962), for the Ihya' the edition of Dr. Badawī (Cairo: al-Ḥalabī, 1957), 4 vols., for Ayyuhā l-walad the edition of M. Muṣṭafā Abu-l-`Alā in the volume القصور العوالي من رسائل الإمام الغزالي, pp. 123-143 (Cairo: Maktaba al-Gindī, n.d.), for Khulāsa at- taṣānīf the edition of M. Muṣṭafā Abū-l-`Alā in the volume الرسائل الفرائد, pp. 303-329 (Cairo: Maktaba al-Gindī, 1909), and for al-Munqidh the edition of M.M. Jabir (Cairo: Maktaba al-Gindī, n.d.).

[5] P. 137. Cf. Khulāsat at-tasānīf, p. 309.

[6] Cf. W. Montgomery Watt, Muslim intellectual, a study of al-Ghazālī (Edinburgh U.P., 1963/1971), p. 173; Toshihiko Izutsu, The concept and reality of existence (Tokyo: The Keio Institute of Cultural and Linguistic Studies, 1971), pp. 57ff.

[7] See Tahāfut al-falāsifa, q. 17, on the possibility of miracles.

[8] For example, see the discussion of miracles by the Christian theologian, St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa theologiae, I, q. 105.

[9] Ibid., p. 15.

[10] Ibid., p. 16.

[11] Op. cit., pp. 201-202.

[12] Thomas applied "impetus" to a bouncing ball in his Commentary on Aristotle's Physics, Book 8, lesson 8, and to the motion of an arrow in Questiones disputatae de potentia, q. 3, a. 5, ad 3.