J. Andrew Kirk,Civilizations in Conflict? Islam,the West and Christian Faith

Informative

Kirk’s book is informative on many different fronts. First – and most importantly, given the frenzied charges and counter-charges Huntington’s book has stirred up – Kirk is carefully informative about what Huntington actually claims. He fairly restates both Huntington’s theme – that civilizational conflict, with its unavoidably religious themes and roots, ¹ has today replaced the Cold War era’s narrowly political differences as our main global problem – as well as Huntington’s purpose: that contrary to what many hold, Huntington’s purpose was not to drive a divide between East and West but rather to reconcile them. ²

Second, Kirk’s book is also extremely informative about Islam itself: in re-capitulating a pocket history of its development over 13 centuries, in highlighting its two-step development through an initial ‘Mecca stage’ (the years spent as a minority in Mecca, with the Koran silent as to any sanctioning of religious violence) into its final ‘Medina stage’ (the subsequent years spent as the ruling majority in Medina with religious violence now receiving divine sanction), ³ in detailing the non-monolithic nature of Islam with its three schools of thought – the ‘traditionalist/conservative’ wing, the ‘modernist/reconstructionist’ wing and the ‘fundamentalist, radical’ wing ⁴ – and in Kirk’s assessment of which of these schools of thought is best suited for adapting Islam to modern, liberal society, thereby avoiding any impending clash of civilizations.

Third, along the way, Kirk makes some pungent observations about the nature of modern Western society: that it is in deep trouble given its displacement of God in both private and public life, ⁵ that it can learn from Islamic society at exactly this point, ⁶ that it, especially through the mistaken policies of the United States, has rashly contributed to a clash of civilizations between the West and Islam. ⁷ Beyond that, he also denounces Western Christianity’s flabbiness in its abject capitulation to Western secular liberalism, ⁸ not least in the issues of abortion and gay marriage. ⁹

Surprising

Kirk’s book is surprising because, despite initial appearances, he actually agrees with Huntington’s base themes: i) that there is a clash of civilizations between Islam and the West, and ii) that religion is at the root of this clash between Islam and the West. ¹⁰ Kirk concludes:

Perhaps, the ‘clash’ is more apparent than real. . . . Nevertheless, it would be foolish to adopt the stance of the ostrich. There is sufficient evidence to indicate that what Huntington describes as fault-lines between profoundly different ways of believing and acting in the contemporary world do exist. These are held with sufficient conviction that they can and, in limited cases, do explode into serious conflict and violence. ¹¹

This is surprising in that throughout the book he gives every appearance of rejecting Huntington’s thesis of civilization clash through his continual references to it as merely ‘the alleged clash’, ¹² through his propensity to admit the clash only tenuously in the most highly qualified language possible (there is ‘some evidence’ for a ‘possible clash’ such that ‘it is not wholly disingenuous to maintain’ this position ¹³ ), and through his habit of admitting the clash in one breath, only to take it all back in the next! ¹⁴

But, finally, Kirk agrees; not only with Huntington’s concept of civilizational clash but also with Huntington’s thesis regarding religion’s central role in this clash. Indeed, if Kirk did not agree with Huntington on these two points, his entire book would be inexplicable. His book’s central thesis assumes these as its very starting point:

My particular interest in this book is to explore the alleged ‘clash of civilisations’ between Islam and the West by examining how the origins of Islam and Christianity may have contributed to contemporary dominant political systems and ideologies . . . And . . . how may this understanding help to bridge the apparently divisive perceptions that Muslim and Western communities have of one another. . . . ¹⁵

Specifically, Kirk identifies Islam’s and Christianity’s antithetical understanding of prophecy – with Islam understanding it as a governmental role and Christianity, he claims, as alternative to government – as the core difference (more on this below). At this point there is a ‘fundamental divide between Islam and Christianity’, ¹⁶ and one with huge downstream political consequences.

Bold

Kirk’s book is not only surprising, it is bold to the point of controversial. Indeed, it is far more controversial than Huntington’s. To see how, consider the following three contrasts between Kirk and Huntington. First, Huntington emphasizes equally both sides’ contributions to the clash: Islam’s being ‘convinced of the superiority of the culture and . . . obsessed with the inferiority of their power’ butting up against the West’s conviction ‘of the universality of their culture’ and their ‘obligation to extend that culture throughout the world’. ¹⁷ In contrast, Kirk, while clear on the failings of the West in general and the United States in particular, aside from a few acerbic comments concerning the United States’ bungling interventionism, ¹⁸ overwhelming concentrates his analysis on Islam’s contribution to the problem (its view of religious coercion and church-state relations) and for Islam’s need to change (see more below).

Second, Huntington avoids entirely the delicate question of whether ‘authentic Islam’ is inherently violent or not. ¹⁹ It is simply outside his major area of interest. Not so with Kirk! Identifying how Islam went wrong at a critical point through its embrace of violence is absolutely central to his book’s purpose. Kirk is absolutely clear that Islam’s religious violence cannot merely be explained away as the misinterpretations of an extremist, fundamentalist fringe within Islam. Rather Kirk points out that violence is rooted in ‘mainstream Islam’ and in ‘verses in the Qu’ran that . . . manifest intolerance and justify violence against non-Muslims . . . [which are] too numerous to ignore’. ²⁰ Mainstream Islam’s embrace of violence, Kirk claims, began with Muhammad’s ²¹ move from Mecca to Medina in 629 when he established a socio-political community and ‘won control of power’. ²² This was a fateful decision, says Kirk:

The decision to ally faith in Allah with political power in a city-state has brought with it many consequences for the whole history of Islam. . . . The legitimacy of armed struggle as a way of defending and furthering the religion of Allah now became embedded in the foundation Scriptures. Muslims of all generations inherit this legacy. . . . ²³

Those Muslims who reject this religious-political alliance, such as Sudanese Muslim reformer Mahmoud Taha (executed as an apostate in 1985), Kirk identifies as ‘atypical mavericks’. ²⁴

Third, given Huntington’s refusal to identify ‘authentic Islam’, it follows that he also abstains from the equally sensitive topic of how Islam might reform itself religiously. This, however, is precisely where the weight of Kirk’s solutions are to be found. While freely acknowledging the West’s need for renewal in ‘a world dominated by the decadent and perverted values of current Western societies’, ²⁵ how Islam might reform itself is the point of his book. He fully acknowledges how presumptuous this may appear (‘Any self-respecting Muslim, however, would want to ask by what right Western . . . opinion formers can dare to suggest what constitutes authentic Islam belief and action.’ ²⁶ ), but he charges on nevertheless.

Kirk identifies himself with one of the three schools of Islamic interpretation, the ‘modernists’ or ‘reconstructionists’, ²⁷ as those most likely to reform Islam. His reformist program – aimed at ‘persuad[ing] Muslims that there are some aspects of a secular society that need to be properly appreciated and affirmed’ ²⁸ (specifically, its embrace of religious liberty) – has two essential planks: a re-envisioning of the prophetic role and a return by Islam to its Meccan phase. As to the nature of prophecy, he looks to his biblical sources (perhaps not so convincing to Muslims!) to correct the Islamic error whereby ‘prophets mentioned in the Qur’an were also political leaders’; in contrast, the truly prophetic office ‘stood apart from the power structures as an alternative voice’. ²⁹ If it could recapture its earlier Meccan phase, thereby ‘rediscovering the prophetic nature of their faith as a minority community’, ³⁰ Kirk contends it would be truer to this prophetic calling.

As to his second plank, a return by Islam to its Meccan phase, he proposes that, ‘It is feasible that Islam as a universal religion could possible reinterpret its own original message, without compromising its essential nature’, in the way Muslim modernist Tariq Ramadan has suggested, to arrive at the apparently revolutionary conclusion that ‘Medina cannot be repeated’. ³¹ He expands:

The conclusion seems obvious, although emotionally very tough to admit: Muslims . . . have to substitute the dream of re-establishing a form of state like that of Medina . . . for a fresh ideal. . . . Although it would seem to be an immense claim, the only real hope for Islam . . . is to return to a form of the prophetic faith that it was at the beginning [while in Mecca]. . . . The experiment of an imposed theocracy . . . cannot be repeated. ³²

Kirk nowhere predicts the likelihood of Islam adopting the reformist course he urges; he simply notes the stakes involved: ‘[T]he stakes are crucial. The way in which the sources are handled will determine the way in which Muslims, the world over, understand their role within their contemporary context.’ ³³

Debatable

Kirk’s book is informative, surprising and bold; it is also debatable – especially as to the political theology which underlies two of his central points: both his anti-Constantinianism (it was a ‘failure’ and a ‘fatal compromise’ ³⁴ ) and his understanding of the prophetic (as necessarily ‘alternative to’ and ‘apart’ from governance, working from the ‘bottom-up’ versus top-down ³⁵ ). He condemns Constantine for abandoning the prophetic calling and turning Christianity into ‘a religious pillar of the political establishment’. ³⁶ Kirk’s stance here is subject to four critiques: It is based on a scriptural half-truth; in adopting the Anabaptist viewpoint it totally neglects the Reformed insights; to say that ‘most Christians today regard’ Constantine as a failure is a poor recommendation given the misunderstandings of what Christendom actually was; and lastly, in condemning governmental coercion and top-down efforts of any kind, Kirk actually undercuts his own vision for Christians acting as an involved citizenry making a difference.

It is a half-truth that the prophets stood apart from government: Scripture also portrays prophets as part of the governmental structure. We see it in the prophet Samuel, who not only assumed political power himself but was the key king-maker for both King Saul and King David. ³⁷ Equally, the prophet Nathan was no mere ‘outsider’ but was so identified with the reign of King David that, in challenging David’s choice of a successor, David’s son Adonijah deliberately left him out of his conspiracy (I Ki. 1:8–10). This same Nathan was also active in appointing and anointing David’s successor Solomon (I Ki. 1:34–40). Moreover, the story of I Ki. 18 illustrates that the outsider prophet (Elijah) can only have his fullest effect when cooperating with the insider-participant of government (Obadiah). An emphasis on only one side of this equation is imbalanced.

Kirk’s Anabaptist-sounding assertion that the church ought not ‘seek this . . . political power . . . for itself’ being instead ‘social communities that acted as alternative’, ³⁸ ignores the Reformed-Kuyperian note stressing, ‘There is not a square inch in the whole domain of our human existence over which Christ, who is Sovereign over all, does not cry: “Mine!”’ ³⁹ Truths from both camps need a hearing.

It was this insight that even the government was under God’s sovereignty that drove Constantine and the birth of Christendom. But Christendom comes in various forms, ⁴⁰ only the worst of which (neither of which Constantine advocated) hold to coerced conversion and the conflation of citizenship and church membership. ⁴¹ In its best form, as Oliver O’Donovan explains, Christendom is not a forsaking of its mission but rather ‘Christendom is response to mission. . . . It is constituted not by the church’s seizing alien power, but by alien power’s becoming attentive to the church.’ ⁴² O’Donovan thinks Constantine is misunderstood, writing:

Here I must define an affectionate parting of the ways with my friend Stanley Hauerwas. . . . His attack on Christendom, which he often denominates as ‘Constantinianism’, seems to be founded on the premise: Christendom/Constantinianism is . . . the improper acquisition of worldly power by the church . . . [with] Christians . . . attempting to further the kingdom through the power of this world. . . . [T]his claim . . . I think is simply wrong. That is not what Christians were attempting to do. Their own account of what happened was that those who held power became subject to the rule of Christ. ⁴³

Lastly, there is a fatal contradiction within Kirk’s programme when he advocates (properly!) the rolling back of the ‘tacit ideological treaty whereby Christians do not seek to insert their convictions into public life’, insisting, instead, that Christians (and all religionists) should as ‘citizens with attending rights and responsibilities’ be ‘participating critically . . . to create societies that reflect[] the moral precepts reflected in its foundation documents . . . through advocacy and persuasion’. ⁴⁴ The problem here is that you cannot have such an engagement in shaping public governance without equally engaging in the very coercion and top-down-ness that Kirk condemns. Passing laws involves coercion – if not in their adoption (that is, through a democratic process) then in their enforcement (prohibitions given force through fines, imprisonment, etc.). This coercive element is the inescapable nature of government, even of legitimate government. ⁴⁵ Only the anarchist would object. Thus Christians have a choice: they can eschew all shades of coercion by sticking to a privatized sphere or they can insist that Christianity is public truth with public relevance, even if it has coercive overtones, no matter how softened through the democratic process.

Kirk does not adequately address this contradiction. In fairness to him, his major task in this book was not to analyse Christendom. He took his assumptions as read and simply moved on to tackle Huntington’s thesis concerning a clash of civilizations. In bending his attention to this clash between the West and Islam as rooted in their different understandings of their religious roots, he has helped the reader better grasp what the key issues are in, as Huntington has urged, the ‘remaking of world order’. If he has debatable points, he has many others which are helpful and informative.