The current rash of policies across universities (aided by disastrous successive government policies on Higher Education) closing departments of Theology and Religious Studies, let alone other subjects in the Humanities, will one day be an interesting subject for some sociological analysis. Apart from the fact that their view of ‘religion’ is so misinformed so as to evacuate a number of social and political systems of any meaning, they seem to be totally oblivious to the implications of our deeply uncertain and fluid international situation at the moment, where it would be very unreflective (to put it mildly) not to engage with the study of religion and theology. Part of the problem of course is that for a great deal of people around, although religion seems to be very much back in the public domain, ‘religious belief’ is still considered by many to be a private matter, and as such, an anomaly in a vast ocean of human rationality; therefore, it is often considered as faulty, or irrelevant and weak. In some circles, a greater emphasis is put on what is called ‘worldviews’ or ‘spirituality’ without engaging with how these terms actually work.
Very few people can deny that we have moved on from the 1960s analysis of Harvey Cox’s The Secular City and Bryan Wilson’s Religion in Secular Society, when there was an overly optimistic view that religion has become irrelevant. The sustained influence and increasing visibility of religion in the United States led some observers to believe that secularisation was unique to Europe. Meanwhile, historical research into religious developments in individual countries over the last two or three centuries has revealed that patterns of religious expansion and decline frequently do no match the expectations of secularisation theories. Although most Western societies have experienced secularisation, its scale and underlying causes are still unclear. Recent research by Professor Stephen Bullivant at St Mary’s University suggested that secularisation may have peaked in Britain too.
Shifts of opinion on matters that were taken for granted has been evident in different ways. The Brexit referendum ten years ago here suggested a broad frustration with supranational institutions such as the EU; the credibility of the UN has also been under strain with the dominance of a single power, such as the USA. Fast forward ten years on, as America attacks Iran, the dominance of this single power is now itself under question as Britain seeks closer ties with its European neighbours; this is partly because sovereign states are increasingly aware that global crises such as the environment, terrorism and migration cannot be solved by detached states alone, even if these states dislike global jurisdictions. So, the first lesson we have from these initial remarks is that we cannot see the world around us in arbitrary single-eyed ways. There is no one way of understanding the world, which any fool is going to easily discover. We need to develop a range of skills that enable us to make connections and understand one event by viewing it through the perspective of other phenomena.
The American/Israeli confrontation with Iran cannot clearly be understood only through the lens of pure politics. America’s project of deposing Middle Eastern tyrants with the hope of turning their states into ‘Switzerland’ has failed miserably. This is a project that united both the politically Liberal Right and the European liberal Left. Both assume that Enlightenment liberalism is the evident creed of rational human beings, whilst many such Liberals are unconscious of the fact, as Tom Holland’s book Dominion argued, that the historical development of Liberalism is not possible without Christianity. Liberalism is, otherwise, inexplicable. The cultural and religious varieties in play between Europe and the Middle East are not superficial private matters that can easily be ignored.
The Iranian regime thinks of itself as ‘the virtuous city’, to use the term of the Arabic philosopher Al-Farabi (reshaping some Platonic terms); in practice, it is more a group of sad old men leading a rather dysfunctional constitutional model; it appears to be a contradictory combination of public representation with the absolute rule of the Jurist cleric. The assumption for this kind of regime is that the common good is obvious, and any sensible Shi’a Muslim must surely agree with the same policies and vision of the religious rulers. The Ayatollah figures are there to guide and direct everyone in the same direction. When ‘democracy’ was finally imposed on Iraq after the American invasion in 2003, the same type of constitution (under American supervision) was developing in a context where Shi’ites formed the majority and religious leaders had to play a role in the decision-making process.
Understanding Islamic law and society here is important. Scholars of Islamic law, such as Wael Hallaq, have pointed to the ‘impossibility’ of establishing a modern Nation State based on Sharia as statutory civil law, simply because Islamic law is not meant to be a centralised system in a bureaucratic state; as such, the concept of a civil law, or civil society, where ideas of natural law and reason as fundamental human properties, are historically alien to traditional Muslim societies. Liberal democracies have not been possible in most of the countries in the Middle East. Whilst there are some contemporary Muslim thinkers, such as Abdullahi An-Naim and Anver Emon, who are trying to engage with these questions, the Middle East has oscillated between secular despotism and the so-called Islamist rule. In Iran, it seems, those who question the authority of the jurist cleric and his ability to interpret the divine will are bound to suffer.
Islam of course is not monolithic. However, one might argue that it is a great deal easier to develop this illiberal view when the religious tradition understands the Quranic revelation as hegemonically frozen in time. This is different from the historical evolvement of doctrine that St John Henry Newman talks about in reference to the Truth as a dead man on the cross, when the saeculum of St Augustine of Hippo sits between the Incarnation and the Parousia. Khomeini, the founder of the Islamic Republic of Iran, like Martin Heidegger, believed in a particular understanding of union or annihilation in Being; for Khomeini, this is based on a type of Sufi thought and practice, solving the Cartesian riddle of mind/body at a stroke. But as we know, Heidegger was a Nazi.
Therefore, the assumptions made about democracy in the Middle East suggest a good level of ignorance about the history of where the liberal democratic tradition comes from. The justification for the offensive against Iran as regime change is vulnerable to the kind of unhistorical optimism which characterised the American invasion of Iraq.
However, if you thought that was enough religion to engage with, Tim Stanley added in one of his Telegraph op-eds recently, with his characteristically good satirical humour, how ‘Trump’s reckless Iran war is underpinned by bad theology’, namely eccentric American Christian Fundamentalism. Similarly, in a recent Spectator podcast, the former Archbishop of Canterbury, Lord Williams, spoke of America’s ‘demonic’ political climate, adding his voice to Pope Leo’s critical interventions, the Pope being someone who got to his position at a very challenging time in international relations indeed.
How can one distinguish between good or bad theology? First, it is important to remember that contemporary American Christian fundamentalism is essentially modern. As George Marsden pointed out, the fundamentalist conception of truth is derived from a scientific age. It is formed on the analogy of natural science as seen in the Newtonian mould. Therefore, fundamentalists tend to have a ‘scientific view’ of the bible; a series of ‘hard facts’ apprehensible by the ‘common sense’ of the sincere believer’.[1] It is an interesting fact that this movement flourished in North America more than in any other traditional context.[2] Its foundational method of reading the Bible is not dissimilar to the foundation of modern America with its disregard for history, local tradition, and law. The immigrant whites came to consider America as the new free land, where they can do what they wish with total disregard to the local traditions and no sense of belonging to the indigenous culture.[3] This formative narrative, one might suggest, is fertile soil for eccentric fundamentalisms. It has allowed America to look in the eyes of Middle Eastern peoples today as a counter ‘Jihad state’. Indeed, Trump’s foreign policies are not new American policies. When I visited Washington DC in February/March of 2025, I was told by those who should know better that Donald Trump looks back to the example of the 25th US President William McKinley (1897-1901), who had similar expansionist and tariff policies.
If Tump and some of his Right-Wing allies like to talk of the Christian heritage of the West, we need to ask what this means; for this is not simply about Christianity being the dominant faith. Rather, it is more importantly about remembering that the history of the Church and its engagement with political powers in Europe made it clear that political power in Europe was to be argued about; political leaders were always answerable to justifying their legitimacy before the law and before God. This much we can learn from the medieval text of Thomas Aquinas too. Without denying the Church’s illiberal past, many contemporary thinkers remind us that the Enlightenment protests that shaped modern Europe did not come from nowhere; much of it rests on theological arguments that would not have been possible if the Church were not a distinctive body in the society challenging those with various interests and agendas vying for power.
Both the Trumpian model and the purely secular rhetoric in Europe have left us vulnerable to different types of unhistorical optimism, because both of them either disregard the Church as an enemy (Trump vs the Pope) or at best consider it a private institution; this has allowed our assumptions about liberal modernity to turn into an absolute, tyrannical, pseudo religious ideology, not dissimilar in fact to radical political Islam. The rise of what some regard as unwelcome elements in European politics comes with the gap created by this total disregard to this aspect of the Christian history of Europe; a forthcoming book by Dr Michael Bonner, The Crisis of Liberalism, argues that without faith in God, Liberalism faces an existential crisis.
The challenge in the West, therefore, is to be able to engage critically with this history, preserving a European distinctiveness in the midst of all of this requires that we ask what is the specific moral and European substance that shaped European history and that can engage with the world of Islam in a clear and productive manner. In the absence of any such clarity, many religious and non-religious thinkers have warned, we find ourselves in the postmodern dilemma of competing relative narratives vying for power without any clear perception of the wider common good; not to have a clear moral and spiritual foundation today means being trapped in violent reactions.
The challenge in the Islamic context, whether in the Middle East or in Europe is to go beyond the dangers of essentialising the text and turning it into a system. There are limits to the Quran’s claim to textual finality, as a purer account of the divine. As a friend scholar of Shi’ite thought once noted to me: ‘A divine voice that seeks to remain aloof to the complexities of history risks falling victim to it’. Is it possible for an Islamic tradition to raise anything equivalent to the biblical argumentation with God, as opposed to the power play of who can provide a better exegesis of sacred texts? This is not only characteristic of Iranian religious institutions. It’s also there in other Sunni establishments.
As I noted elsewhere before, the path forward in Muslim contexts lies in focusing more on certain elements of Islam’s mystical dimension and the quest for a “humbler” position where the revealed text’s contingency and human limitations are more clearly recognised. It might be a difficult position to take given the insecurities of the post-colonial Muslim majority states. But it is this kind of acknowledgment that will encourage a culture of argumentation and intellectual humility that the best of the Enlightenment brought. Whilst there are complicated and rich debates in classical Islam on questions of Theodicy, God’s law and justice, it was my medieval Muslim friend, al-Ghazali who came closer to the Christian understanding of natural law, albeit not entirely the same either. Without this exploration, or perhaps even transformation, ‘the common good’ of the Middle East is going to end up simply being defined by tyrants of different types.
The challenge for us here in Britain is how to revive greater engagement with theology and religious studies for the common good so that our universities can be havens for arguments and a better culture of political negotiation; the government has a responsibility to promote such collaboration for universities and indeed fund it. Theocracies, or pseudo theocracies as well as ideological secularism provide a final claim that might be functionalist, but they are an escape from the complexities of history, and they see the world with one eye. The society deserves better, and they won’t get there if the focus lacks engagement with theology, because, as Aquinas noted, theology is the sort of subject that relates to everything; its pedagogy is that of wholeness, inviting us to an entire process of engaging with all the sciences through our participation in wisdom. We ignore it at our peril.
Rev’d Dr Yazid Said is a Senior Lecturer in Islam at Liverpool Hope University. After being ordained an Anglican priest, he completed his PhD at the University of Cambridge (2010) on the medieval Muslim theologian Abu Hamid al-Ghazali (d. 1111). His research is focused on medieval Muslim political and legal thought and on Christian-Muslim theological encounters, with reference to the manner in which Greek philosophical thought was appropriated in both Christian and Muslim texts.
[1] Marsden, George, Fundamentalism and American Culture, pp. 7-8.
[2] Ibid, pp. 221-228.
[3] As story narrated in Dee Brown’s Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee all too clearly reveals.
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