Hooman Dorandish interviews Soroush Dabbagh: Abdolkarim Soroush is not seeking to transcend religion

Baran-Shahr; Hooman Dorandish – The current of liberal religious intellectualism, centered on the ideas of Dr. Abdolkarim Soroush, is now almost thirty years old. Although Soroush is a disciple of Rumi, like Ferdowsi, over these thirty years, he has laid the foundation of a lofty palace of reason! With a rational and humane reading of religion, he has democratized the mentality of a significant portion of the religious members of Iranian society. Many fundamentalist and ideological religious people in post-revolutionary Iran, as a result of the widespread and effective influence of Soroush's teachings, found their religiosity compatible with democracy. Among those born in the 1350s and 1360s (1970s and 1980s), many young people also emerged in the 1370s and 1380s (1990s and 2000s) who, following Soroush, desired and advocated for a religion that could be reconciled with democracy, freedom, and human rights. Soroush, without exaggeration, has been the most important thinker and most influential intellectual in Iran in the post-revolutionary era, and the pro-democracy social forces of Iranian society have been most intellectually influenced by him. But in these three decades, not everything has gone according to the wishes of this 'master with many disciples.' The lofty palace he built stone by stone with the capital of patience and reason is now facing the unprecedented pickaxe of criticism from his students, and perhaps it will suffer harm from wind and rain! Some of his students and admirers have also quietly left religion. They write nothing in criticism of him but no longer believe in his teachings. This group considers themselves liberal democrats to whom Soroush showed the exit door of religion, and now, from outside the door, they watch with astonishment the master's continued dwelling in this 'old house.' Soroush, however, considers religion a house like language and homeland. He does not consider the Persian language and the land of Iran free of faults and flaws either; but he considers bidding farewell to homeland and language an irrational and identity-destroying farewell. He believes the house of religion is meaning-giving, stability-giving, and identity-giving, and this house, like the houses of 'homeland' and 'language,' must be renovated; even if this renovation and reconstruction takes years and requires a resolve like that of Hakim Tus. Regarding Abdolkarim Soroush and his intellectual project, two contradictory critical opinions also exist in cultural circles. Some consider Soroush the Saint Manuel of contemporary Iran. That is, a good man whose heart is not religious, but his reason deems religiosity necessary for society. Some also consider him a cunning thinker who is not personally religious and gently steers his numerous audience towards the realm of 'liberation from religion.' It seems such opinions are unfair and, with disregard for a lifetime of Soroush's religious words and deeds, are raised in some private circles of Iran's cultural society; especially the second opinion, which is deeply conspiratorial, ignores Soroush's intellectual developments, and promotes the idea that Soroush wanted, from thirty years ago, to lead his audience to a certain realm. Whereas Abdolkarim Soroush, in 1370 (1991), explicitly said, 'We differentiate between the words of the Prophet and the words of the Quran ... the Prophet's words are an interpretation of the Quran, not the Quran itself.' (Fatter than Ideology: Religious Belief, Religious Arbiter). But now, in the course of his religious research, he has concluded that the words of the Quran are the very words of the Prophet. The fair opinion, perhaps, is that Soroush, throughout his intellectual life, has advanced relying on the cane of 'reason' and has now reached the 'borders of religiosity.' For this very reason, when he appeared on the 'Pargar' program with a cane that was comfortable and pleasing to his disciples, his disciples became agitated by his rational analysis of revelation, and each said in their own way: The wise are the point of existence's compass, but/ Love knows that in this circle they are bewildered! In any case, whatever relationship Abdolkarim Soroush has with religion, in heart and mind, he has been a thinker whose school has only nurtured democrats. Some of these democrats have become irreligious, and the majority of them apparently are still religious. But the students who have emerged from under Soroush's cloak, whether irreligious or religious, pour water into the mill of freedom and humanism and, like their master, defend a minimal religion that brings harm to no one.

The following text is a critical conversation with Soroush Dabbagh about the intellectual project of Abdolkarim Soroush. Throughout this interview, a critical perspective on the intellectual trajectory of Abdolkarim Soroush over the past three decades is evident, and the fundamental assumption of this dialogue is Dr. Soroush's arrival at the "boundaries of religiosity." What the religious consequences of this intellectual trajectory are is one of the central issues of the interview. The analysis of the question of what effect Abdolkarim Soroush's views have on moving beyond religiosity stems from a social concern and is aimed at clarifying the nature and consequences of a significant intellectual project in Iran's religious society; otherwise, the interviewer is not personally worried about the departure of any Tom, Dick, or Harry from the circle of religion and piety. A glance at Iran today also clearly shows that religiosity does not necessarily bring about an ethical life, worldly well-being, or otherworldly salvation. Nevertheless, during the interview, sometimes sharp and harsh criticisms have been raised, some of which are the interviewer's analyses and others are views present in certain layers of Iranian public opinion. The open-mindedness and high tolerance of Mr. Soroush Dabbagh in this critical dialogue were truly admirable and praiseworthy to me. This open-mindedness, which comes from a liberal-minded gentleness, would do well to serve as a model for other religious intellectuals. Of course, some of the interview questions remained unanswered. Although this interview turned into a five-hour conversation, the lack of time was rampant, and many questions were not reached. In their last press interview, Dr. Soroush spoke of the necessity of critical dialogue between high-ranking officials of the Islamic Republic and "independent and courageous journalists." How good it would be if he himself acted according to this prescription and now, when his theological views have faced numerous criticisms from supporters of the religious intellectualism movement, at least engaged in deep critical dialogues with brave and independent journalists abroad. Answering the scattered questions of enthusiasts via email and Telegram or at the end of lecture sessions, rather than having the scent of dialogue, takes on the color of a monologue. In this very conversation as well, some questions (about the loss of the authority of revelation and the contingent nature of most of the Quran's theological verses as a result of Abdolkarim Soroush's teachings) remained unanswered precisely because answering them was logically the responsibility of Dr. Soroush, not his learned son. Soroush Dabbagh, who is now a researcher and scholar in the Department of Religious Studies at the University of Toronto, has sincerely and scholarly defended the religious reform project in this interview. However, the pressures facing religious intellectuals caused this young and promising religious intellectual to resort to a bit of expediency, crossing out and moderating some of his answers, and leaving some questions unanswered, saying, like Beyzai, perhaps some other time!

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About three decades ago, according to Dr. Soroush's account, Ahmad Fardid swore in one of his classes that Abdolkarim Soroush has no religion. Two decades ago, Ayatollah Javadi Amoli claimed that Soroush is not seeking the revival of religion but rather its demise. Now, the majority of religious intellectuals have serious criticisms of Dr. Soroush's recent views. Some of these individuals consider these views un-Islamic, and others, who were among Dr. Soroush's closest students, consider these views a prelude to leaving religion or even synonymous with leaving religion. Why has it come to this, and why have Dr. Soroush's students and like-minded peers become so doubtful about the Islamic nature of his thoughts?

In the name of God. I hope we can have a good critical dialogue regarding the recent developments and discussions in religious intellectualism that emerged in the wake of Abdolkarim Soroush’s views on revelation, especially since some of Mr. Soroush’s old and close students have also entered the fray. Concerning Mr. Ahmad Fardid, I think we should not dwell on him too much or consider his claims on this matter as evidence. Fardid made sarcastic remarks about many of the great figures of this land and occasionally leveled numerous accusations, from the late Bazargan to the late Shariati, Mr. Soroush, and others. Fardid’s own lifestyle, according to his students, bore little relation to piety and religious observance in the conventional sense. For such a person to accuse others of irreligiosity is ironic. If we pay attention to Dariush Ashouri’s article criticizing Fardid, as well as the statements of certain individuals who have gradually unveiled Fardid’s personal traits, I think we can say that this sort of talk from Fardid, whether about Mr. Soroush or others, carries no weight and should not be regarded or taken into account. I do not, of course, intend to speak now about Fardid’s philosophical standing and particularly his influence among a segment of Iran’s intellectual elite. I grant him some standing overall; after all, he coined concepts that have endured in our intellectual and philosophical milieu—concepts such as “Westoxification,” “nihilism,” and “historical dispensation.” This alone demonstrates his philosophical and literary significance and taste. Of course, Fardid lacked skill in writing, and apparently this inability troubled him. He was not strong in oratory either, but he possessed considerable flair and constructed concepts; and more importantly, important figures like Dariush Shayegan, Dariush Ashouri, and Reza Davari, who are our prominent cultural figures in recent decades, were at one point strongly influenced by Fardid. Thus, Fardid is an important actor in our intellectual and cultural sphere, but that sort of talk from him, as I said, carries absolutely no weight. Ayatollah Javadi Amoli, as a traditional cleric and Sadrian philosopher, has also made such a statement. The expression “mortification of religion,” in my view, is a harsh phrase but not unexpected. After all, a traditional jurist and philosopher, who incidentally has also become an official philosopher, naturally does not look favorably upon religious intellectuals, just as such individuals did not look favorably upon the late Shariati. In any case, the raising of such statements is not improbable, but a reason must be provided for them. That a certain statement is unorthodox does not necessarily indicate the mortification of religion. Moreover, I have seen many individuals or read their messages saying that if they still believe in engaging with the sacred dimension of existence in this day and age and—in their own words—if a remnant of their religiosity remains, it is due to the words of religious intellectuals; otherwise, for years and even decades, the clergy’s words about religion have not resonated with them. If we also consider these individuals in the discussion of the revival of religion, there are, incidentally, many who are the audience of religious intellectuals. But as for the claim that Soroush’s students are now saying the same thing as Fardid, I truly doubt that this is the case. Some of the critics, namely Messrs. Mahmoud Sadri, Alavitabar, and others, make no such claim. These individuals are critics of Mr. Soroush’s later views. Expressing this opposition is their right, and I think it is among the requirements of putting forward a new and thought-provoking theory. When an unconventional statement is made, such opposition is natural, and it takes some time for us to reach a collective judgment about it. These sorts of critics consider these statements, at most, unjustified or an unacceptable innovation. One person, of course, had pointed out that Mr. Soroush’s recent views entail an exit from religion. Leaving aside his lack of competence in this matter, unfortunately, such claims—that Abdolkarim Soroush has claimed prophethood—are of the nature of slander and calumny; in my view, such claims are more motivated than reasoned. These motivated claims cannot be refuted with reason, because they are not of an epistemological nature and carry no weight on the scales of inquiry. We can, of course, discuss where the boundary between religious reform and exit from religion lies. If necessary, we will address that later. So, the summary of my answer is that if we set aside Fardid and Javadi Amoli, some religious intellectuals have serious criticisms of Mr. Soroush’s recent views, while one person’s encounter was motivated and of the nature of calumny and slander. Exit from religion is entirely different from putting forward unconventional statements. Someone who makes unconventional statements has distanced himself from religious orthodoxy. In the history of Islam, too, figures such as Ayn al-Quzat Hamadani, Hallaj, Sheikh Shahab al-Din Suhrawardi, and Mulla Sadra, in the

ز حرکت می‌کردند و فاصلۀ چشمگیری با ارتدوکسی دینی داشتند و کم‌وبیش هزینۀ سخنان نامتعارفشان را هم پرداختند.

In the article “Reasons for the Appeal of the Prophets’ Call” (the first entry of the book Āyīn dar Āyīneh [The Faith in the Mirror]), Dr. Soroush has written: “What is negated from the prophetic realm is not the rhythmic and melodious quality of his speech, but its being imaginative. That is, the Prophet does not speak imaginary words. Revelation, outwardly, stands wall to wall with the world of imagination. The slightest carelessness causes one to slip into the abyss of doubts. Some have said that revelation is of the nature of instinct, or that the speech of the prophets is on a par with the work of poets. These statements are, in the precise sense of the word, ‘atheistic.’” This article was written in 1367 [1988/89]. That is, even from the perspective of Soroush of ’67, today’s Soroush is uttering atheistic statements. Firstly, what is your view on these contradictory views on the theology of revelation? Secondly, if Dr. Soroush had the right to say that those who hold such a view of revelation have an atheistic view, why do you not grant others the right to say that Soroush’s current statements about revelation are atheistic?

Yes, this section of the book Āyīn dar Āyīneh has a considerable distance from Mr. Soroush’s current views on revelation; whether we consider revelation as prophetic experience or as the prophetic dream. My answer is that, like any other thinker, he has moved beyond some of his previous statements and no longer accepts them today. Personally, I do not favor the term “atheism,” and a few years ago, in an article, I suggested using the term “non-theism” instead of “atheism,” which carries a negative semantic load. Furthermore, in the interview with that Dutch journalist, Mr. Soroush, for the sake of approximation to the mind, considered revelatory experiences to be of the same kind as poetic experience. In any case, Dr. Soroush’s current theology of revelation has found a considerable distance from his theology of revelation of the 1360s [1980s]. I also see this transition. I also do not favor the use of the term “atheism,” whether regarding Mr. Soroush’s current views or the earlier and later views of others. Dr. Soroush himself today, that is, after the debate and correspondence he had with Ayatollah Montazeri, his conception of apostasy and atheism has found a significant distance from the conception he had of these categories three decades ago, and perhaps he would no longer use these expressions. A few years ago, I had about thirty sessions of conversation with him concerning the biography of Abdolkarim Soroush, which covers his entire intellectual and political life up to the end of 1392 [2013/14]. In one of those conversations, I asked him: “At one time, in the article ‘Religious Intellectualism and Religiosity,’ you used relatively harsh expressions about Forough Farrokhzad and Mohammad-Ali Foroughi; do you still defend those expressions now?” He also said: “No, when I look at it now, I see that those expressions of mine were not good expressions; neither regarding Forough Farrokhzad nor regarding Mohammad-Ali Foroughi.” In the article “Let Us Learn from History” in the book Tafarroj-e Son‘ [A Contemplation of Creation], Mr. Soroush also almost charted a deterministic path for history; but in those conversations, he explicitly said that today he thinks differently, and if he were to write that article again, he would not write it in that way; he also mentioned this point a few years ago in one of his lectures. In the world of thought, such instances have always and naturally existed. That is, people have held a view, and with the passage of time, their view has changed.

So far, apart from you, who are Dr. Soroush’s son, no prominent figure within the religious intellectualism movement has come forward to support the theory of the prophetic dream. Could this theory be the beginning of Dr. Soroush’s departure from the religious intellectualism movement? And if such an event were to occur, what consequences could this separation have for the religious intellectualism movement?

Recently, sessions were held in Tehran to critique and examine the theory of the Prophetic Dream, with the participation of Messrs. Mohsen Armin, Habibollah Peyman, and several professors of philosophy and theology. Of course, I am not saying that anyone in these sessions defended the theory, but the very act of critiquing and examining it speaks to the importance of this idea. At the same time, I would like to add this point: openly defending this theory, both religiously and politically, will not be without risk. One can guess that some individuals may, a few years from now—once the dust has settled—be willing to defend parts of this theory. Of course, I am not saying this is necessarily the case; I am merely speculating that it might be. But regarding the path of religious intellectualism and Mr. Soroush's departure from it, I must say that I do not believe this theory marks the beginning of Dr. Soroush's exit from the current of religious intellectualism. He himself does not hold such a view either; for this theory, in a sense, is a continuation of the "Expansion of Prophetic Experience," and moreover, in explaining the mechanism and workings of revelation, it remains oriented toward a critical rereading of the religious tradition and the establishment of an alternative theory. In my view, the critical rereading of the religious tradition is what gives coherence to the current of religious intellectualism and new religious thinking. As long as someone is engaged in this critical rereading and continues to cite this tradition, they are considered a religious intellectual or new religious thinker. Furthermore, I believe that new religious thinkers include both religious and non-religious new thinkers. That is, new religious thinkers do not necessarily have to be devout. As long as they are oriented toward the religious tradition, have empathy with it, and engage in its critical rereading, they are within the current of new religious thinking, even if they are not personally religious. But Dr. Soroush considers himself a Muslim and follows the religious tradition, yet he has made unconventional statements. I do not imagine that the Prophetic Dream is the beginning of Dr. Soroush's departure from religious intellectualism; for, on the whole, it is of the same nature as the Expansion of Prophetic Experience and seeks to examine the mechanism of revelation; that is, it has a phenomenological and hermeneutic character, not an epistemological one. In other words, the Prophetic Dream takes the epistemological authority of revelation as given and adopts a phenomenological approach to revelation. I imagine that as these discussions progress and a few years pass, the strangeness and novelty of these statements will diminish, and dialogue about this theory will become more feasible. The reactions are partly due to the unconventional nature of these statements and partly stem from the neglect of the fact that these discussions pertain to the mechanism of revelation. If someone were to come and propose an alternative theory in revelation studies and—let me put it more bluntly—attempt to establish an alternative theological system whose monotheism, eschatology, and prophethood differ from the conventional old theological system, they would still be within the heart of this same tradition. In what sense? In the sense that, in order to present textual evidence and proofs, they still turn their attention to the rich Iranian-Islamic tradition. Whether it is Mr. Soroush or Mr. Shabestari, they are still within the heart of the current of new religious thinking, and with such statements, they do not exit this current but rather open a new path before it. However, the question of how effective these statements will be and whether they will take hold in people's minds is one whose answer depends on the passage of time and historical experience. That is, at least ten to twenty years from now, it will become clear to what extent this theory has been effective and has gained a foothold in Iran's religious society. If it does not prove effective, it will become part of the history of religious thought. Recently, it was the fortieth anniversary of Mohammad Nakhshab's passing. Today, many of Nakhshab's views have become part of the history of religious thought in Iran. That is, his views now have fewer adherents and sympathizers. A hundred years from now, too, the majority of the current theories being discussed in the sphere of religious reform in Iranian society—at least some of them—will have become part of the history of religious thought in Iran and will be examined from that perspective.

In one of the footnotes of the book The Theoretical Contraction and Expansion of the Sharia, Dr. Soroush, referring to the statement of the central office of the representatives of the Supreme Leader in universities, wrote: “This statement contains the astonishing sentence: ‘We consider the promotion of ideas that attempt to present religion as a function of other variables of human knowledge to be dangerous and tantamount to the negation of religious and Islamic government.’ My astonishment stems from how an idea that has not yet been properly understood has been deemed dangerous.” That is, around 1991, the Leader’s representatives in universities had said that Contraction and Expansion leads to the negation of Islamic government, and Dr. Soroush implicitly said that this theory does not lead to such a conclusion. But the passage of time showed that the Leader’s representatives were right. That is, the negation of religious government was also one of the fruits of the theory of Contraction and Expansion. Now, too, some religious intellectuals critical of The Prophetic Dream say that views of this kind ultimately erase the boundary between religiosity and irreligiosity. Firstly, please tell us what you think about that accurate conjecture of the Leader’s representatives; secondly, could it be that this time, too, the predictions of Dr. Soroush’s critics might turn out to be correct?

In The Theoretical Contraction and Expansion of the Sharia, the discussion is about different understandings of religion; it does not discuss religious government. In the article “Religious Democratic Government,” written a few years after Contraction and Expansion, Dr. Soroush argued that if we make our religious understanding fluid, we might be able to reconcile the satisfaction of the created with the satisfaction of the Creator. In the article “An Analysis of the Concept of Religious Government,” written in 1996, Mr. Soroush considered the primary and essential duties of government to be meeting basic needs (i.e., security, health, economy, etc.). In any case, Dr. Soroush has traversed this path step by step. From a historical perspective, too, the passage of time has always played an effective role in clarifying the effects and consequences of ideas, even for the thinkers and ideologues themselves.

The Leader’s representatives were also saying that someone who has proposed Contraction and Expansion will eventually end up negating religious government. Now, too, Dr. Soroush’s friends are saying that someone who has proposed The Prophetic Dream will eventually be led to abandon religion.

Both claims require proof. I do not know what arguments the representatives of the Leadership put forward at that time to show that Qabz va Bast necessarily leads to the negation of religious government. I want to say that Mr. Soroush himself traversed this path and arrived at the article “Analysis of the Concept of Religious Government” and then at the idea of “extra-religious government.” But three points. First, from that example concerning Qabz va Bast, one cannot conclude that the critics’ conjecture today will also be correct. That is, even assuming that incident happened there, one cannot logically conclude that the exact same story will apply to Dr. Soroush’s theories regarding revelation. The second point is that friends who are concerned today about exiting religion must demonstrate with reasons why The Prophetic Dream and similar theories lead to exiting religion. I have yet to see even a single reason offered in support of this claim. A convincing argument must be presented to show why Dr. Soroush’s recent revelation-epistemological views logically lead to exiting religion or abandoning religiosity. The third point arises from the “ethics of belief.” In the ethics of belief, the motive for a theory’s stirring in the thinker’s mind, the motive for proposing the theory, the arguments for and against the theory, and finally the effects and consequences entailed by the theory are separated from one another. Thus, the causes of a theory’s formation in the thinker’s mind, the causes of sharing it with others, the arguments and the truth or falsehood of the claims, and the relation and connection of the arguments and claims to one another, and finally the effects and consequences entailed by the claims, must each be examined separately. In the ethics of belief, we must begin from the third stage, not from the first or second stage; because these stages have no epistemic status; they have an explanatory status and present the context and circumstances of a theory’s emergence. Just as we can say about Qabz va Bast that a decade of living under the revolution and religious government was among Abdolkarim Soroush’s causes and motives for proposing this theory. This statement is entirely correct, but it does not take the place of his arguments for the claims of Qabz va Bast. My point is that in confronting the theories of “The Expansion of Prophetic Experience” and “The Prophetic Dream,” one must examine the possible flaws in the arguments for these theories. If the arguments offered in favor of these theories are justified, one must also accept the effects and consequences of these theories. In other words, one should not begin the discussion from the effects and consequences. If the arguments are justified, one cannot then say that because we do not like the theory’s conclusion, we do not accept it. Critics should not start the discussion from the consequences; they must address the arguments themselves. If the arguments are convincing and prove the claims, one must also accept the logical implications of the theory. At the same time, the view of the theorist is also helpful and illuminating in this regard. If you ask Dr. Soroush or me—who sympathizes with the theory of the Prophetic Dream—our answer is that this type of revelation-epistemology establishes a new theological system, not that it entails exiting religion. This new style of religiosity is distant from traditional religiosity, but it is still, in any case, within the heart of the Iranian-Islamic tradition; although it is distant from the mainstream of the Iranian-Islamic tradition.

Before pursuing the crux of the previous question, it is worth recalling this point from the article “Religious Belief, Religious Arbiter” that Dr. Soroush, in this article, which is originally an interview published in 1991, said: “The rejection or acceptance of jurisprudential opinions does not harm the principle of religiosity … but the discussion of theological opinions is a discussion about the principle of religiosity or the understanding of religion. A theological discussion about the existence of God or the truth of revelation … can sometimes take a person out of the circle of religion or give his religion a new nature and content.” Apparently, the current disagreement between Dr. Soroush and some religious intellectuals is that theories like The Prophetic Dream give the religiosity of believers who hold these views a new nature and content, whereas critics consider The Prophetic Dream to be an instance of that part of the aforementioned sentence where “a theological discussion about the truth of revelation can sometimes take a person out of the circle.”

Yes, I also agree with the second part of Mr. Soroush's statement. Critics, of course, have the right to agree with the first part of the sentence, but they must be able to demonstrate with justified reasons that these discussions about revelation have led to leaving religion or may lead to this conclusion. Since I recognize pluralism, different lifestyles, and different narratives of religion, I believe that as long as one invokes the religious tradition and organizes one's experiences and evidence under this tradition, refers to and engages with the works of the predecessors of this tradition, and articulates and explains one's innovations and novelties within the heart of that tradition, one remains within the vast and broad Iranian-Islamic family; even if one presents a new style of religiosity and even builds a new theological system whose monotheism, resurrection, and prophethood differ significantly from orthodox monotheism, resurrection, and prophethood. In any case, it is better for critics to address the ideas themselves and present convincing arguments against the ideas. Merely saying and emphasizing that these ideas lead to a certain place is methodologically flawed and leads nowhere. If an idea is justified, wherever it leads, logically it must be accepted.

Representatives of the Leader at that time and figures like Abdolali Bazargan and Mohsen Armin in the present time have stated and continue to state their reasons for rejecting Contraction and Expansion or the Prophetic Dream, but you say that these individuals have not yet provided a reason as to why these theories are incorrect (according to their opinion, of course) and lead to leaving religion. However, the point I have in mind is that thinkers in many cases sense something. That is, they catch the scent of something with their intellect, even if they cannot provide a strong and clear reason to prove it. Given that the sensed outcomes of Contraction and Expansion turned out to be correct, shouldn't we reflect more on the sensed outcomes of the Prophetic Dream?

I understand what you are saying, but the truth is that the matter of sensing is very subjective. I do not want to deny the possibility of the correctness of sensing and the occurrence of the conjecture arising from it, but the problem is that regarding the sensed outcomes of an idea, due to the subjective nature of sensing, one cannot discuss it objectively and intersubjectively. However, regarding the arguments for or against a theory, one can discuss it objectively and intersubjectively. If sensing is formulated objectively in the form of arguments, one can speak about it, but as long as it is sensing and not based on arguments, nothing can be said about it, neither in negation nor affirmation. I also cannot say anything now about the speculations of these critic friends; because these conjectures and speculations, as you say, are at the stage of intuition.

With a bit of humor, I must say that if a person can smell God, perhaps they can also smell godlessness and irreligiosity!

That's fine; only on the condition that the scent of godlessness and the scent of irreligiosity can be formulated. I say honestly, in fairness, I do not smell godlessness and irreligiosity from these revelation-related discussions. A kind of essentialism is seen in the critiques presented. If we recognize plurality and do not consider the mainstream understanding of religion as the only possible current, Mr. Soroush's recent views are a departure from the orthodox reading, and nothing more than that. If we recognize plurality, these views, in fact, present another narrative of religiosity. Proposing an alternative does not mean leaving religion and departing from religiosity. Mr. Nikfar, who has an essentialist approach to religion, considers ISIS the sole representative of religiosity in the contemporary world and regards any distancing from ISIS as a kind of departure from religiosity. That is, as if we have one narrative of the religion of Islam and that's it. If the ISIS narrative is not the only possible narrative of Islam and we have alternative Islams such as traditional Islam, traditionalist Islam, and reformist Islam, the new revelation-related discussions fall under reformist Islam. Moreover, within this very reformist Islam, there are various schools of thought; that is, within the family of religious reform, we also have different opinions and schools.

The points you raise in your critique of essentialism are good, but Dr. Soroush himself, in his debate with Mr. Bahmanpour, explicitly wrote that "being a Muslim depends on belief in and commitment to the essentials." That is, he himself accepts that if we distance ourselves from certain matters, we have left Islam. Now, the debate is over determining the instances. That is, are these matters from which religious reformism is distancing itself the essential and ineradicable elements of Islam or not? I want to say that the fluidity you have in mind cannot expand so much that nothing remains as the "essence of religion."

If someone explicitly says that they no longer concern themselves with monotheism, revelation, and prophethood, they have left the religion. Or if it can be shown that a thinker's statements logically no longer bear any relation to the Islamic tradition, the claim that they have left the religion is correct. But as long as the individual claims to be religious and does not say they reject monotheism, prophethood, the afterlife, and revelation, and tries to offer a new understanding of these categories, they have not deviated from the essentials of religion. Fluidity within this general framework is acceptable. The project of religious reform seeks to create a new theological system, not a new creed or religion, and to distance itself from theism or religiosity and move towards atheism, irreligiosity, or agnosticism.

If someone says, "I consider Muhammad (PBUH) a prophet, but I believe the image of God that the Prophet portrayed is not correct," have they not separated themselves from the essentials of the Islamic religion?

If they say they believe in a monotheism and prophethood that has no counterpart in the Islamic tradition, then they have deviated from and separated themselves from the essentials of the Islamic religion. But as you know, Mr. Soroush's statements on this matter have had counterparts in the Islamic tradition. Mystics and philosophers have more or less said similar things, but they were not the mainstream or dominant current in the flowing river of religious tradition. Soroush's recent statements have a new formulation, but they bear a significant relation to the views of some Muslim philosophers and mystics within the Persian-Islamic tradition; ʿAyn al-Quḍāt Hamadānī, Suhrawardī, Ibn ʿArabī, Rumi, Mullā Ṣadrā, and others have also expressed such unorthodox ideas. We are talking about a 1400-year tradition. Abdolkarim Soroush's statements, although not a repetition of his predecessors' words, are related to the views of some Muslim mystics and philosophers who, firstly, as their works testify, considered themselves Muslims (what was in their hearts, we do not know), and secondly, presented their views under the umbrella of the Persian-Islamic tradition. Unless we want to engage in intention-reading, which is an incorrect and unjustifiable stance and has a subjective, non-epistemic character.

Another point present in Dr. Soroush's response to the statement by the Leader's representatives in universities is that Dr. Soroush, in rejecting the view of the statement's authors, says: "Religion is not subject to any form of knowledge. It is religious knowledge that is subject to other forms of knowledge." But later, in "The Expansion of the Prophetic Experience," "The Quran as the Word of Muhammad," and "The Prophetic Dream," Dr. Soroush clearly stated that religion itself is also subject to human knowledge; and because science and knowledge were limited in the Prophet's time and society, this deficiency also found its way into the Prophet's religion. That is, it seems the Leader's representatives were right in this case, and apparently, Dr. Soroush was not fully aware of this consequence of Contraction and Expansion.

I have two points. Firstly, the account of the theory of Contraction and Expansion given by the office of the Leader's representatives is not justified. Because that theory speaks of dialogue and a two-way relationship between different branches of knowledge, not that Contraction and Expansion says only religious knowledge is influenced by other forms of knowledge. The second point is that…

I apologize for interrupting you. But in the articles on Contraction and Expansion, Dr. Soroush did not address the influence of religious knowledge on other branches of knowledge. Only at the end of the third article, in one sentence, did he refer to such an influence.

The theory of “Contraction and Expansion” has mostly dealt with the influence of human knowledge on religious knowledge. I accept that. Due to the atmosphere, the times, and the context that led to the formation of the theory of Contraction and Expansion, Contraction and Expansion was also more focused on demonstrating the influence of human knowledge on religious knowledge. But if we consider the matter logically and the epistemological system of this theory, we must say that the theory of Contraction and Expansion also considers the door open for religious knowledge to influence other human sciences. In any case, this is my reading of the theory of Contraction and Expansion; a narrative that can be epistemologically justified and its logical implications drawn out.

In the past twenty-six years, that is, after the completion of the writing of Contraction and Expansion, religious intellectuals have never addressed the issue of, for example, what influence physics, astronomy, psychology, or sociology have received from religious knowledge.

Yes, there has been less discussion in this area. But logically, one can say that the theory of “Contraction and Expansion” recognizes such epistemological implications.

Your second point about the statement from the representatives of the Leader’s office remained unaddressed.

Yes. The second point is that Dr. Soroush could, in principle, have stopped at Contraction and Expansion and not raised the subsequent discussions. That is, the discussion of the expansion of prophetic experience, the Quran as the Word of Muhammad, and the prophetic dream are entirely different matters, and one can perfectly well imagine that after Contraction and Expansion, he would not have entered into these discussions at all. Contraction and Expansion pertains to the understanding of the sacred text, but discussions like “prophetic experience,” “the Quran as the Word of Muhammad,” and “the prophetic dream” pertain to the formation of the sacred text itself. That is, they are at a different level and stage and are not logical implications of Contraction and Expansion.

But Dr. Soroush has always said that these are the fruits and consequences of Contraction and Expansion.

It is a consequence of Contraction and Expansion within his theological-religious studies system; although these discussions pertain to two different stations. Contraction and Expansion is about the understanding of the sacred text, but in “The Expansion of Prophetic Experience,” “The Quran as the Word of Muhammad,” and “The Prophetic Dream,” he has moved a step further, addressing more fundamental layers. Yes, they are related and connected if you want to formulate Abdolkarim Soroush’s religious studies and theological system. But this does not mean that the expansion of prophetic experience logically emerges from within Contraction and Expansion. I am aware that Mr. Soroush has said that The Expansion of Prophetic Experience is the second volume of Contraction and Expansion, but this statement does not signify a logical connection and relation; rather, Abdolkarim Soroush is saying my view on the nature of “understanding the sacred text” was such, and now I say this about the “formation of the sacred text.” But it is logically conceivable that he would have stopped at Contraction and Expansion and not proceeded further.

Dr. Soroush recently said: “Religious intellectuals are those who have well understood the crisis of religious thought in the contemporary era and, for this reason, have a critical view of the foundations. Hence, their religiosity is minimal or minimalist. That is, as much as they can, they reduce the things that are indefensible to reach that minimum which is defensible and preserve it.” If we look at Dr. Soroush’s intellectual trajectory over the past thirty years, it is completely evident that the religious matters indefensible in his view have increased year by year, and “that defensible minimum” has correspondingly decreased. That is, it seems we are facing a contraction of Sharia, not an expansion of Sharia.

He has explicitly said that the intention of the Lawgiver is the contraction of jurisprudence and the expansion of ethics. But in this question of yours and some of your other questions, there is a kind of view based on numbers and figures. What does decreasing and increasing mean? Does it mean five things decreased and six things increased? In discussing religious studies, I think more about the methods and evidence that are presented. I do not know if numbers and figures are important here, that you say the volume of religious matters has been reduced? We know that in recent decades, there has been a demystification regarding what is considered religious matters; this work has not been exclusive to religious new-thinkers. Religious revivalists – like Motahhari and Qabel – have also done this; that is, they have reduced the amount of religious superstitions. Motahhari also wrote that if we collect the narrations that unqualified preachers recount about the event of Ashura, it would amount to over five hundred volumes of books. Is this what is meant by numbers and figures? If so, yes, these superfluities must be purged.

At the time of publishing The Attributes of the Pious and Wisdom and Livelihood, Dr. Soroush had no problem accepting the existence of beings called angels, but in the last decade, he has apparently removed angels from that “defensible minimum” as well. For instance, in his debate with Ayatollah Sobhani, he called angels “imaginary beings.” That is, here we are no longer dealing with the superstitions of Ashura, but with the question of the existence of beings called angels, which is emphasized throughout the Quran.

Excuse me, but I think you have not correctly understood the status of the “imaginal world” (ʿālam al-khayāl) in these discussions. “Imaginal” (khayāl) in this context does not mean fanciful and unreal, as it is used in everyday language today to say someone has become delusional; not at all. The “imaginal world” is one of the concepts that has a history in the Islamic philosophical and mystical tradition and has been employed; Suhrawardi spoke of it, as did Rumi and others. In more technical terms, the realm of the imaginal is a realm in which there are forms, but not matter. When Rumi said in the Masnavi: “I became naked of body, he of imagination / I glide in the utmost reaches of union,” he meant this very sense of the imaginal world. Hence, in these discussions, ontology does not become thin and meager. In fact, Dr. Soroush, in that written debate with Ayatollah Sobhani, cited Allameh Tabatabai’s Al-Mizan. In my recent debate with Hujjat al-Islam Vaezi, my account of which was published in the article “Dialogue in the Square of Revelation,” I mentioned that Mr. Vaezi said that in new revelatory discussions, the angel of revelation is reduced to a subjective matter that existed in the imagination of the Prophet of Islam. In response, I said that, firstly, in the Islamic tradition, figures like Farabi, Avicenna, and Rumi also had such an understanding; secondly, the discussion here emphasizes the subjective aspect, not that the objective aspect of the angel of revelation is denied. In his debate with Mr. Sobhani, Mr. Soroush also points out that Allameh Tabatabai considered the wingedness of angels to refer to their function. The presence of angels in the imaginal world was explained by Rumi in the third book of the Masnavi; where Gabriel says to the Virgin Mary: “Mary, behold, I am a difficult form / I am both a crescent moon and an imaginal form in the heart.” Angels are difficult forms; that is, they are both subjective and inward, and objective and outward. In these discussions, the existence of angels and the supernatural is generally taken as a given. That is, a reality called an angel or a reality called the sacred realm is assumed. In the traditional understanding of religion, angels are spoken of as if an angel is a completely objective phenomenon, just like this table in front of me right now. But Mr. Soroush, following some Muslim mystics and philosophers, has emphasized that the angel of revelation was in the Prophet’s faculty of imagination and the Prophet saw him. The angel of revelation had a reality, but we do not know what that reality was. Someone who discusses angels and highlights and emphasizes their subjective aspect is in a completely different position from someone who fundamentally rejects God, revelation, the angel of revelation, and the supernatural world. In any case, the philosophical explanation of this matter is that angels appeared to the Prophet in the faculty of imagination.

Of course, I used “imagination” in the same sense that Dr. Soroush opposed in 1988 when he said, “The Prophet does not speak imaginatively.” But aside from this side point, an ordinary person reading the Quran readily accepts that we also have a being called a jinn in this world. But a believing scientist probably does not believe that a jinn is a real being. He tries to offer a new interpretation of the jinn. It now seems that angels in Dr. Soroush’s thought have met the same fate as jinns in the thought of this hypothetical scientist.

A layperson and a physicist have different understandings of various phenomena such as the sea, rain, a table, and so on. Individuals at different levels relate to phenomena in different ways. An ordinary Persian speaker and an eminent literary scholar, although both read Hafez’s ghazals, do not derive the same enjoyment from hearing or reading a ghazal of Hafez. Naturally, that literary scholar has a deeper understanding of Hafez’s poetry. The same applies to jinn and angels. Of course, livelihood-oriented religiosity is far removed from mystical religiosity and philosophical religiosity. In these revelatory discussions, an attempt is made to explain the mechanism of nature’s relationship with the supernatural and metaphysics. We do not have access to the Prophet’s experiences and what occurred within his consciousness. In these discussions, it is generally assumed that entities called jinn and angels possessed a reality about which the Prophet spoke. However, the main point is the explanation and understanding of the Prophet’s experience. Before addressing angels, jinn, and the manner of explaining and interpreting them, let us turn to the most important religious concept—namely, God. The God of a scholar is worlds apart from the God of a layperson. For the multitude of people, God’s boundlessness is not at all a matter of consideration. They conceive of God as a sultan seated in the heavens, addressing ʿAmr and Zayd; exactly like an earthly king. That is to say, a reality called God is present in the minds of the faithful, but this very reality, beyond a certain point, becomes, as logicians say, a case of verbal equivocation. A philosopher or theologian speaks of God, and so does a livelihood-oriented believer. As Rumi says: “That beggar says ‘God’ for the sake of bread / The pious man says ‘God’ for the sake of the soul.” Both use the same word, but the signified and the referent of this shared term differ. When the concept of God is like this, jinn and angels are naturally even more so.

In his written debate with Hujjat al-Islam Bahmanpour, Dr. Soroush described the injection of “rights” into duty-oriented Islamic jurisprudence as an instance of “relying on tradition and going beyond it.” Given that, as time has passed, the “minimum defensible” core of Islam, in Dr. Soroush’s view, has diminished, it seems that the phrase “relying on religion and going beyond religion” could also be used to describe the trajectory and telos of his intellectual project. That is, a kind of respectful passage beyond religion.

An observer or commentator might say such a thing, but my impression is that Mr. Soroush himself does not hold such an understanding of his own intellectual project. I, too, as someone whose epistemological inquiries over the past ten years have been partly focused on the religious reform project and who has closely observed the developments of this project, do not share such an understanding. Others may have such a perception, but they must also present their evidence. I see the introduction of new discussions as a new phase in the religious reform movement. Iqbal Lahori, whose stature has not been recognized in our country as it should be, also spoke in his book “The Reconstruction of Religious Thought” about revising the entire apparatus of Islam. The term “reconstruction” is an astute and interesting expression. The reason I emphasize Iqbal’s importance is that Abdolkarim Soroush’s intellectual project is a continuation of Iqbal’s project. That is, the project of reconstructing religious thought. Dr. Soroush sees his intellectual endeavor as focused on a critical rereading of religious thought and providing an alternative theological system. But this project, as I explained in response to the previous questions, lies within the framework of the tradition of religious thought; a tradition that has its own fluidity but is not without constraints or red lines. As long as a thinker’s thought is directed toward these categories and rereads this religious tradition, it falls under this project. Iqbal’s discussions on revelation and the afterlife are also unorthodox, but he too did not step outside the religious reform project, and today we still consider Iqbal a religious reformist.

Dr. Soroush, following Iqbal Lahori, says the entire apparatus of Islamic thought needs reform. If you owned a car or a house that experts believed needed repairs everywhere, it would be better to replace that house or car rather than waste your time on the endless repair of a thoroughly dilapidated asset. I mean to say that promoting such an opinion about Islam leads many non-conformist and educated individuals to leave this religion. Especially since these strata today possess a “logic of life” and are not willing to spend their lives studying a phenomenon (i.e., Islam or Islamic thought) whose main proponents and practitioners themselves acknowledge that every part of this phenomenon is flawed.

It is true that Iqbal used the term reconstruction, but the analogy of religion (which is a social phenomenon) to a house, which is a tangible thing with definite boundaries—that is, it has a roof, a door, and walls—is not a precise analogy. Iqbal used the metaphor of “reconstruction” to emphasize the necessity of fundamental reform. The second point is that human beings are free; no one is compelled to be preoccupied with a project. Different people, as long as they see themselves as the audience for the project of religious reform and their epistemic and practical predicaments are resolved by this project, make use of it. But if they become disillusioned, they abandon this project. Projects are many; the land and sea are vast and people are numerous. Someone might even consider this project necessary only from a cultural standpoint, meaning they have no doctrinal attachment to it, yet think that in the current climate of third-world countries we have no path other than religious reform. Whether among the audience or the activists, if someone from a certain point onward no longer finds this project useful, it is obvious that they will abandon it.

But the crux of my question was: when we say that this thing we are engaged with, namely Islamic thought, is flawed in every respect and in need of reconstruction, repair, and reform, doesn’t promoting this view lead to a contradiction of purpose? A reasonable person would say to themselves: why should I spend a lifetime of effort and thought on reforming or studying the reforms of something that is fundamentally broken?

The expression “flawed in every respect” is yours; religious modernists do not use such expressions. Moreover, in what sense do you use “a lifetime”? The effort is made to produce an alternative to “existing Islamic thought,” and from a certain point onward, work proceeds within this very alternative system, and those flaws, to use your expression, are resolved and settled.

When we say an entire apparatus needs reform, that means it is flawed in every respect, doesn’t it! Incidentally, this analogy of the “house” and the phrase “repairing the house” belongs to Dr. Soroush himself. In his book Razdani va Roshanfekri va Dindari (The Knowledge of Secrets, Intellectualism, and Religiosity), he has written: “Religion is the religious intellectual’s house, which he builds himself, not a ready-made house that he buys … Until he recognizes and inspects each of its bricks in turn and places it in its proper place, neither is the house complete nor is the heart at ease. For this very reason, the intellectual is dynamic, a person of striving. Because he is always engaged in building and repairing his own house.” Is it rational for us to choose to dwell in a house where we must always be engaged in repairing it?

Repairing, in my opinion, is the same as producing an alternative theological system. Of course, this matter also has a personal dimension to some extent. That is, you cannot ignore your own experiences as a human being with a particular lived experience and state. Let me put it this way: you could also ask a philosopher who is constantly working on Kant’s philosophy or Hegel’s philosophy and spends his life on the philosophy of these philosophers, and is perpetually seeking to produce a more refined account of their philosophical views, why do you spend your life refining Kant’s philosophy? I mean to say this is a commonly encountered question. Certain tasks, from a certain point onward, become part of people’s identity and lived experience. Tell a philosopher: from now on, do no philosophical work; so many philosophers have debated up to now; have they reached any conclusion? Or tell a poet: write no more poetry! Of course, you did not say these things, and I am giving examples. In any case, that philosopher might say: I am engaged in rebuilding the house of my philosophy. That poet also says: I am adding to the house of poetry. In any case, if you were to make such a criticism of that hypothetical poet and philosopher, they would also say that engaging with philosophy and poetry is part of our lived experience, work, and passion, and within this work, we find meaning for ourselves and our lives become meaningful. A religious intellectual can also give such an answer. I mean to say, in addition to the social and political importance of the religious intellectual’s work, see this aspect of the matter as well.

In his book The Expansion and Contraction of Religion, Dr. Soroush says that if the instances of conflict between science and religion are numerous, believers will gradually lose hope in the truth of their religion. In the same vein, one might ask how long and to what extent the project of religious reform is supposed to continue. If believers see that every part of their religion (that is, not only jurisprudence, but also its eschatology and theology) requires a radical and endless reform, they will gradually conclude that their religion is thoroughly infused with error and falsehood, its every aspect constantly in need of correction. Obviously, the emergence of such a perception would lead to the attrition of the more rational followers of such a religion.

Do not say they will conclude that their religion is "thoroughly infused with error and falsehood." This expression is erroneous and unwarranted; at most, one can say they will conclude that their "understanding" of religion is erroneous. I am not claiming that such an occurrence is historically impossible. But let us proceed with the discussion based on the very foundations of The Expansion and Contraction. When you say believers might conclude that their religion is entirely flawed, it should be expressed as: some believers might conclude that their "understanding" of religion must be profoundly reformed.

Let us use the word "Quran" instead of the phrase "the believers' religion."

We must say their understanding of the Quran; or their understanding of the sacred text. In the world of hermeneutics, the sacred text is not something self-evident and easy to grasp! In actuality and the real world, sacred texts do not have a single reading. Say that some believers might conclude that their understanding of the sacred text is problematic. Very well! Believers listen to the words of reformists; if they accept those words, then the desired outcome is achieved; if they do not accept them, they abandon them. But when you say "their religion," this statement is a departure from the foundations of The Expansion and Contraction; foundations that I consider important, justified, and path-breaking. A rational modernist sees that traditional Islam does not satisfy him, nor is he convinced by the traditionalist Islam of Nasr-Schuon; the distressing and repulsive nature of fundamentalist Islam is also clear. He can study reformist Islam, from Iqbal, Shariati, and Bazargan to Soroush and Shabestari. If he finds the alternative system these individuals offer from the sacred text and religious tradition to be intellectually pleasing and convincing, he continues his religiosity; if not, he moves beyond it. I believe the issue should be formulated in this way.

The problem that Dr. Soroush's radical Quranic views of the last decade create, however, is that during the period when he was proposing the theory of Expansion and Contraction, he was engaged in reforming religious knowledge, but now he appears to be reforming religion itself. That is, he previously emphasized the necessity of reforming incorrect understandings of religion (and your response was along the same lines), but in the last decade, his main discussion and concern has not been that, for instance, a certain interpretation by Allameh Tabatabai is infused with error; rather, he says that a certain verse of the Quran is infused with error, because the Prophet had limited scientific knowledge and was heavily influenced by Arab culture, and that culture was infused with superstitions, and for this reason, error and falsehood have found their way into the Quran itself. In other words, Dr. Soroush's work has extended from reforming Al-Mizan Exegesis to reforming the Quran.

If you are referring to the Prophetic Dream theory, he has proposed a new paradigm in that theory. At the same time, Dr. Soroush has not spoken of error finding its way into the sacred text, as you formulated it; rather, he has emphasized the incompatibility of the "apparent meanings of some verses" with the findings of modern science.

But his writings apparently indicate something more than the incompatibility of the "apparent meanings of some verses" with scientific findings. In any case, my previous question pertained to Dr. Soroush's written debate with Ayatollah Sobhani, not the Prophetic Dream theory.

We’ll get to that! For now, let’s start with the Prophetic Dream. In the Prophetic Dream theory, he says a paradigm shift must occur in the understanding and interpretation of the Quran. His proposal is that instead of interpretation (tafsir), we should engage in the explication (ta‘bir) of the sacred text, because revelation had an audio-visual character, not merely an auditory one. This is a theory concerning the explanation of the mechanism of revelation and the presentation of an alternative theory for understanding revelation from behind this fourteen-century veil. It is useful to view the debate with Mr. Sobhani in light of this later theory. In my article “From the Expansion of Prophetic Experience to the Prophetic Dream,” I wrote that the Prophet did not have a private language and could not use a private language. If the audio-visual aspect of revelation becomes prominent for us, its implication will be that the context and temporality of revelation have collapsed into the Prophet’s dreams. The gist of the matter is this: Take the wheat, for the measure is rejected. In other words, an expansion occurs in the concept of “address.” Of course, this is my understanding of the Prophetic Dream theory. That is, the addressee of the sacred text, according to this theory, differs from the “addressee” in the traditional conception. In fact, this theory seeks to say, in the present age, when modern science has advanced and human knowledge is broader than in the past, what are the requirements of “being the addressee of the sacred text”? Let me tell you a relevant memory. In some of my classes in Toronto, a radiologist attends. He once criticized me, saying that in your article “The Theology of Religious Intellectualism,” you wrote that the verse “He is created from a gushing fluid that issues from between the loins and the ribs” contradicts modern medical science (because there is no space between the loins and the chest bones from which a gushing fluid or semen could emerge), and on this basis you say we do not concern ourselves with the literal meaning of these verses because the sacred text is not a scientific book, and we fundamentally do not have such an expectation of the Quran. He insisted that although we doctors do not currently know of a space between the loins and the ribs from which semen emerges, surely one day it will be discovered that such a space exists between the loins and the ribs; he criticized me on this basis. In fact, his difference with me goes back to our conception of “being the addressee of revelation.” One meaning of “addressee of revelation” is that a person reads the text of the Quran like any other conventional text, understands its verses in their literal meaning, compares them with scientific theories, and laboriously tries to explain that, for example, such-and-such a Quranic verse alludes to the Big Bang. In the shadow of theories such as “The Quran as the Word of the Prophet” and “The Prophetic Dream,” a more refined understanding of the concepts of “address” and “addressee of revelation” has been achieved. In fact, the message that was meant to be conveyed, according to these theories, had no relation to these biological and physiological minutiae and subtleties. The physiological and biological teachings of the Quran were derived from the science of the time (and could it have been otherwise?), but the core message contained within these verses concerns other matters. In this sense, a transformation occurs in the meaning of “being an addressee.”

This “Take the wheat, for the measure is rejected”—if we want to put it plainly, doesn’t it mean that from the perspective of a scientist, a modern philosopher, or even an informed modern citizen, not all Quranic verses are correct and useful, and today only some Quranic verses are of any use to us?

Why do you use the phrase “of any use”? I am saying we must correct and limit our expectations of the language of religion and the sacred text. If we do that, we will formulate the problem differently.

You are saying the same thing I said, but, as Shamloo would say, in a more polished, watered-down way!

What I said differs from your formulation and phrasing. In encountering inspirational-artistic-spiritual texts, the meaning of “addressee” must be changed. That is, in encountering these texts, one must have a different conception of the concept of “addressee.”

Meaning that a physicist who grants authority to the science of physics is not the addressee of all the verses of the Quran.

In what sense is one not the addressee of all the verses? If one expects to find facts related to physics in the Quran, or wants to take these facts as corroborating one’s own scientific views, one should not turn to the Quran. Otherwise, one is the addressee of all the verses. For instance, the very same radiologist I mentioned would say that what is in the Quran corresponds exactly to the achievements of modern science. In cases where they appear to conflict, we will eventually understand this correspondence one day. In my view, his encounter with the Quran is methodologically unjustified and based on an incorrect understanding of the language of the sacred text and the expectations from religion. At the same time, according to my account, he too can be the addressee of all the verses by adopting justified methods.

Dr. Soroush, in “Rāzdāni va Rowshanfekri va Dindāri” [Esotericism, Intellectualism, and Religiosity], has said that the thinkers and philosophers of the Western world “strove as much as they could to preserve religion in one form or another … and if they abandoned it, it was with reluctance.” It seems Dr. Soroush has also made such an effort over the past thirty years, but considering his intellectual trajectory and the continuous diminishment of that extractable wheat or the “minimum acceptable,” if religious intellectualism proceeds at this pace, the next generation of religious intellectuals, like the European intellectuals, will likely set religion aside, reluctantly or unreluctantly. Especially since Dr. Soroush himself has said that Islam in Islamic societies will ultimately find a status similar to Christianity and Judaism in the Western world.

That the next generation of religious neo-thinkers would do such a thing—you are probably speaking of the generation after mine. I do not know. You do not know either; you are only speculating. I cannot say anything now, negatively or positively, about their conduct and creed. As for the point you made about Islam and Christianity, yes, it appears in one of Abdolkarim Soroush’s writings. I have no objection to it either. That is, a strongly humanistic minimal religion can endure. Last year at the “Suhrawardi Foundation” in Toronto, I taught several sessions on the “History of the Enlightenment.” It was interesting for me that among the thinkers of the Western world from the fifteenth to the end of the eighteenth century, figures like Erasmus and Kant emerged. Erasmus and some other Reformists were doing such work. That is, unlike the French intellectuals, especially the Encyclopedists, who were in conflict with religious tradition, people like Erasmus directed their efforts toward preserving religion or religiosity. The narrative of the Encyclopedists is one narrative of modernity and the Enlightenment. We have also had other narratives, which are, in fact, visible in the present-day situation of Western countries. The difference between France and England and Germany is interesting in this respect. If I may speak from my own lived experience, the Francophone part of Canada (i.e., the province of Quebec), which is influenced by French ideas and where a kind of anti-traditionalism is seen, is very different from the Anglophone part of Canada, which is influenced by England. In Europe, too, England, Germany, and the Netherlands have a different relationship with religion and religious tradition than France. As far as I can discern, the project of religious reform in Iran bears a relation and resemblance to the work that Erasmus or Kant were doing, not the work carried out in the French tradition. The work of Erasmus and Kant was a kind of critical refinement of tradition and opened the way for a kind of spiritual outlook or a rational and ethical religious life. The project of religious reform in our country and in the Middle East in general will, I think, proceed along this same path and manner. But that this project necessarily leads to the abandonment of religiosity is a point that must be expressed with caution. Even now in the Western world, there are still people who believe in a rational and ethical religion and live by it. Yet at the same time, in the West, due to the numerous transformations that have occurred, society is secular. Secular not only in the political sense but also in the ideological sense. At the same time, we must understand this reality correctly and not surrender to common propaganda. In America, fifty percent of society is religious. In Europe too, the state of religion in Germany and England, especially in the south of the continent, is very far from the state of religion in France and the Scandinavian countries. Yes, religion in the Western world is no longer the basis of political legitimacy, but it is still present in the public sphere and civil society in many Western countries. If the meaning is that our religious reform may lead to such an outcome, I have no problem with it and I think the path, in general, is such a path.

But when liberal religious intellectualism, centered on Dr. Soroush, examines every aspect of religion with modern rationality and, over a nearly thirty-year process, concludes that many Islamic jurisprudential rulings are unjust and many of its otherworldly propositions are neither reasonable nor acceptable, one feels that this intellectual endeavor is heading toward defeating its own purpose. That is, this religion is constantly becoming smaller and thinner, and modern religious people will eventually be forced to abandon religion.

These are your interpretations and points. In his discussions, expressions such as the unreasonableness of religion's otherworldly propositions and the injustice of many jurisprudential rulings have not appeared. Religious new-thinking, in this account, provides an alternative theological system. All of these presented discussions can be subsumed under this alternative theological system. In the article "The Theology of Religious Intellectualism," I have tried to show the theological model of religious intellectualism in my own account (which is of an apophatic theological nature) and the connection and relationship between the different levels of this model (namely, religious experience, religious knowledge, and religious action). As far as I can see the horizon now and reread this—as you say—thirty-year experience, at the beginning of this path, many of the current propositions and views were probably not in the minds of the actors of the religious new-thinking movement. Their lived experience over these thirty years has become richer, and numerous developments have occurred in the realms of politics, knowledge, and society. Putting all of this together, the product of the religious reform project is the provision of an alternative theological system that is miles away from the traditional theological system; yet this alternative system is still within the heart of this religious system or the Iranian-Islamic tradition. But as for whether the continuation of this path will lead to abandoning religion, the experience of Western intellectuals shows that this will not necessarily happen. I deliberately raised the example of Kant and Erasmus, as opposed to the French tradition. Not all the heroes of the Enlightenment abandoned religion, whether willingly or unwillingly.

The Quran has repeatedly said in describing the people of hell, "khalidina fiha abada" (they will abide therein forever); but Dr. Soroush has explicitly said that hell is not eternal, even for Hitler. This statement means that all those verses concerning eternal punishment do not square with reason. Now, let us leave the judgment to the reader and move on to the next question. Karl Popper, in his critique of the "interpreters of the school," says: "The function of a school has always been to preserve and transmit the doctrines of its founder. If a member of the school tries to change its doctrine, he is expelled as a heretic and the school undergoes a schism... But sometimes, the traditional doctrine of the school must adapt itself to new external conditions (for example, to newly acquired knowledge that has become part of the public domain). In such cases, the change in the official doctrine of the school is almost always carried out covertly, through a reinterpretation of the old doctrine; so that it can later be said that practically no change has occurred in the said doctrine. The newly changed doctrine (which is not said to have changed) is attributed to the master of the school who originally founded it." This statement that this alternative theological system is still within the heart of the religious system or religious tradition, isn't it similar to what Popper attributes to the "interpreters of the school" in his criticism of them?

The religious reform project invokes the religious tradition and gives meaning and form to its innovations under the various components of this tradition; therefore, it differs from what you quoted from Popper.

The fact that, as you say, we distance ourselves miles away from the traditional understanding of religion yet still consider ourselves under the umbrella of the religious tradition, confirms Popper's point that the modernist interpreters of the school, although they put forward various new statements, still consider themselves connected to that school, and in reality, a covert break from that school takes place.

If that is what Popper means, I disagree with him. Let me recount a memory of John Hick; it may be useful. During the time I was studying in England, I had the good fortune of meeting John Hick on numerous occasions. I remember Hick telling me in one of those meetings that he still considered himself a Christian, even though he had been asked to leave the church and was no longer a priest in the conventional sense of the word. I asked him, since you do not believe in the Trinity or the virgin birth of Mary (Hick also had his own particular view of God, meaning he saw God as beyond the duality of a personal God and an impersonal God), what complaint do you have that the church does not consider you a Christian? He replied that Meister Eckhart had said similar things in the fourteenth century. He also named several other Christian theologians and mystics who held such beliefs. Hick said it is true that I do not believe in the Trinity and have distanced myself from the mainstream of Christianity, but these ideas of mine have had proponents within the two-thousand-year Christian tradition, and in this sense, I am connected to the Christian tradition and consider myself a Christian. Hick said those who expelled me from the church can at most say they have expelled me from the mainstream of Christianity. In light of this statement by Hick, with which I sympathize, I must say I do not know what Popper means by that expression "secretly." Both John Hick and Abdolkarim Soroush have explicitly stated that they distance themselves from religious orthodoxy. If one wanted to hide something, it is precisely this distancing from orthodoxy that one would have to hide. In any case, I deeply believe in that broad sense of "tradition" and think that the explorations of religious intellectuals bear a relation to tradition and are not severed or detached from it.

The expression "secretly" does not signify a secret distancing from religious orthodoxy or the "mainstream," but rather indicates a secret exit from a religion or school of thought.

Religious intellectuals have not secretly exited the religious tradition; rather, they have openly exited religious orthodoxy, and exiting orthodoxy does not mean exiting the religious tradition. I have recently been reading the writings of Ayn al-Quzat; Ayn al-Quzat also held such non-orthodox views. In the Islamic tradition, in the broad sense of the word, Ayn al-Quzat, Avicenna, Suhrawardi, Mulla Sadra, and Ghazali—who excommunicated Avicenna—were present, alongside orthodox jurists and censors like Amir Mobarez al-Din in Hafez's era. I use religious tradition in this broad sense; a tradition that encompasses all these individuals.

Would it not be better, instead of "religious tradition" in this very broad sense, to say the history of religion? All these individuals are present in the history of religion or the history of religious thought.

Tradition is composed of these very components. Tradition does not have a complicated meaning; our religious tradition is composed of jurisprudence, theology, philosophy, exegesis, mysticism, and their bearers.

But not every opinion found in the history of religious thought is endorsed by the Lawgiver.

Yes, these various opinions together constitute the religious tradition. I did not say that all these opinions are necessarily endorsed by the Lawgiver. Tradition is like a flowing, pervasive river that has coursed through the length of history. The works of philosophers, mystics, jurists, theologians, exegetes, and so on, together have formed the thick religious tradition.

It seems that Ghazali, in the last days of his life, was very worried that he might die an infidel. His concern was that he might have exited the religion without being aware of it himself. But it appears that religious intellectuals, simply by saying "we are Muslims," are completely at ease that no matter what aberrant opinions they hold, they will still depart this world as Muslims. The memory you recounted of John Hick also supports this point. However, according to Ghazali's view, not everyone who considers themselves a Muslim is necessarily a Muslim (in the true sense of the word, not the legal sense).

What criterion or touchstone do we have to say that someone who considers themselves a Muslim is not a Muslim?

The criterion Dr. Soroush has offered for being a Muslim is “referring to the Book and the Tradition and understanding them.” But you yourself, in the article “Religious Intellectualism and Religious Intellectuals,” say that we can have a religious intellectual who is not religious yet continually refers to the Book and the Tradition with the intention of understanding them. Even some opponents of religion continually refer to the Book and the Tradition in order to negate religion.

That is fine; “the proof of a thing does not negate what is other than it.” He says the criterion of religiosity or the criterion for a project being religious is referring to the Book and the Tradition, but this does not mean that those who have no attachment to the religious tradition do not refer to the Book and the Tradition. I imagine that statement of Mr. Soroush’s is not meant to distinguish between a Muslim and a non-Muslim, but rather aims to provide a criterion and touchstone for discerning whether an intellectual endeavor still falls under the project of religious reform or not.

But Dr. Soroush has precisely said, “The criterion of religiosity is referring to the Book and the Tradition and understanding them; that’s it, period.”

Yes, but this does not negate the opponents of religion referring to the Book and the Tradition. As you say, deniers of religion may also continually refer to the Book and the Tradition to find reasons against religion.

Perhaps it would be better to say a sympathetic reference to the Book and the Tradition. But this qualifier “sympathetic” does not solve the problem either; because, as you say, the irreligious religious intellectual also has sympathy for religion.

It can be that way. That is, it is possible for someone to conceive, in principle, an “emancipatory reading” of the religious tradition without being religious. Emancipatory in the social and political sphere; not that they hold such a belief theologically. In this sense, it is entirely conceivable that a religious reformist has no religious attachment yet advances part of the project of religious reform. That is, helps us offer, socially and politically, an emancipatory reading of the religious tradition. Of course, this is my judgment, and Dr. Soroush has not said such a thing.

A negating reference to religion is not our subject of discussion. A sympathetic reference also does not necessarily indicate religiosity. Therefore, it seems only a faithful reference remains. That is, to complete Dr. Soroush’s sentence, we must say the criterion of religiosity is a faithful reference to the Book and the Tradition. But in that case, the question that arises is: when we refer to the Book and the Tradition but do not accept the Prophet’s descriptions of God and the angels, are we still in the position of a faithful reference?

Well, a faithful reference to the Book and the Tradition also has various types. Allameh Tabatabai was also a believer, yet he made anomalous and unconventional statements about the manner of the angel’s descent upon the Prophet’s mind; and his discussion on ethics is very anomalous, to the point that even the late Motahhari, in his critique of the late Tabatabai, said that Russell has also said these things of yours. In any case, Allameh Tabatabai’s faithful reference also diverges from religious orthodoxy, but he believed that he was understanding and explaining religious discussions and categories in a philosophical and justified manner. So, firstly, a faithful reference is not of one single type; secondly, there have been various individuals who, from their own perspective, made a faithful reference to the Book and the Tradition, but the result of their reference diverged from religious orthodoxy. Tabatabai was not in agreement with the traditional reading of revelation. Soroush’s and Shabestari’s conceptions of the mechanism of the revelatory matter also diverge from the traditional reading. Yet all three of these thinkers agree with the principle of revelation and prophethood. Therefore, their departure from religious orthodoxy does not mean a departure from the realm of being a Muslim.

I will ask the previous question in another way. What is the status of a believer in encountering the religious views of their Prophet? Following the Prophet and the Quran, or reforming the teachings of the Prophet and the Quran? If we deem the Prophet’s opinion on agriculture to be incorrect, logically there is no objection to us; but if we also deem some of the Prophet’s views regarding God and the afterlife to be incorrect, we must answer this important question: why have we become followers of such a Prophet in the first place?

The issue is not the incorrectness of the Prophet’s views concerning God and the afterlife. Consider that in the Quran there are references to a formless, non-anthropomorphic God. Under the new theories of revelation, one can say that, according to the sacred text, the Prophet had different images of God. If the Prophet was the author or narrator of the text, one can examine what conceptions and experiences of God the Prophet had. Yes, according to the sacred text, an anthropomorphic God was predominantly manifested to the Prophet. In some verses of the Quran, an image is also drawn as if rigid and strict laws govern the universe—that is, a cause-and-effect system that nature follows, such as the manner of rainfall or the fertilization of plants. This image has a deistic hue, meaning it is close to the philosophical God: a God who created the world based on a set of rules and laws from which one cannot deviate. This is another account of the transcendent in the Quranic verses. Of course, the frequency of this reading is less than that of the personal, anthropomorphic God. We also have another image of God in the Quran that resembles the God of the mystics—that is, the God of the unity of existence. This God has no human attributes. Verses such as “He is the First and the Last, the Manifest and the Hidden” and “Wherever you turn, there is the Face of God” point to this conception of God. In religious reform, where an alternative theological system is presented, one can say that given the majority of the sacred text’s audience, who were average people, the Prophet was compelled to depict an anthropomorphic God. Spinoza also said that the prophets encountered the revealed matter through the faculty of imagination and spoke to the people based on that. One of the components of encountering the sacred realm in the faculty of imagination is the pictorial nature of the transcendent, so that the words are comprehensible to the majority of the audience. However, traces have also been left in the sacred text for those who can go beyond an encounter based on the element of imagination. These traces are the verses that have a deistic hue, depicting a God who is the establisher of the rigid and strict laws governing the universe, and the other is the verses that depict a formless God—verses such as “There is nothing like unto Him.” Therefore, according to the sacred text, which was the product of the Prophet’s dreams or experiences, firstly, these three types of encounter with the transcendent can be distinguished from one another, and secondly, these three types of encounter with the transcendent seen in the Quran arose from the differences among the audiences at the time of the sacred text’s formation. This difference among audiences is still observable. Later religious intellectualism has recognized this point, and so that the non-lay audience can establish a more justified connection with the transcendent, it highlights other passages of the sacred text and emphasizes them in its theological system. In the project of religious reform, the difference in people’s understanding of the transcendent is considered and recognized. In the sense that many people may not have the audacity or desire to encounter a boundless God who is formless, colorless, and indeterminate. We must take this reality into account in our type of religious studies. Perhaps one could say that religious intellectualism strives to provide other images of God’s human attributes. I was recently reading an interview with Popper in which he revealed his agnostic sentiments. At one point in the interview, Popper says: “Although I am not a Jew, I have come to the conclusion that there is abundant wisdom in the Jewish commandment that says: Do not take the name of the Lord in vain.” I think what Popper meant by this, or at least my interpretation, is that God, who is a mysterious and awe-inspiring matter, should not be expended needlessly, and the sacred realm of existence should not be manhandled. One should not degrade and reduce God by attributing coarse and crude human attributes to Him, as if He were a sultan sitting in the sky, watching us and issuing commands and prohibitions. The transcendent, as Gabriel Marcel put it, is of the nature of a mystery—a mystery whose enigmatic character never subsides; a mystery that is indeterminate, colorless, and boundless. If we are to speak of God as an ordinary matter and a being among other beings, that is precisely taking the name of the Lord in vain, or, in my terms, manhandling the sacred realm of existence. This is how I understand Popper’s statement. If this is the case, I think the religious intellectual can tell livelihood-minded believers that when I remind you of the anthropomorphic attributes of God in the Quran, I mean to say: do not think God is something at hand; do not strip Him of His mysterious and awe-inspiring character, and do not manhandle Him. In fact, religious intellectualism tells the livelihood-minded believer that it is better to have a more transcendent and refined understanding of God.

If we say so, the religious reformist remains faithful to the spirit of the sacred text and, in accordance with the maxim “Take the wheat, for the measure is but a ruse,” can tell livelihood-minded believers to grasp the implications of this wise saying and not take the Lord’s name in vain. If this is the case, the project of religious reformism, with the depth it lends to the anthropomorphic attributes of God, still falls within the religious tradition.

Dr. Soroush, if I am not mistaken, has also likened religion to a shop where various strata of people can find their desired goods. And since the prophets' task has been to bring human beings closer to God, one might say that in the shop of religion, the anthropomorphic image of God is a good suited to the common people, while the formless, non-anthropomorphic God is suited to the elite. Therefore, the elite have the right to pass over most of the Quran's theistic verses.

What do you mean by passing over? As I understand it, passing over means reaching the inner meanings of those verses and turning one's attention to the meaning hidden behind them; in Sepehri's words: "One must pass over / and become a companion to distant horizons." The majority of mystics and philosophers throughout history have also encountered the teachings contained within the religious tradition in this way.

In continuation of that sentence, "The criterion of religiosity is referring to the Book and Tradition and understanding them; that's it, period," Dr. Soroush has said: "But what is the result of this reference? It can be anything; as long as it is reasoned, justified, and methodical." If someone refers to the Book and Tradition and concludes that the arguments of the polytheists and deniers of the people of 'Ad, Thamud, Lot, and even the Quraysh prevailed over the arguments of their prophets, is that person still religious? Especially since Dr. Soroush wrote about two decades ago: "The Quranic verse 'those who listen to the word and follow the best of it' did not mean leaving people free to choose the best. Rather, the Quran itself introduced the best word."

No, the result of this reference cannot be anything; but it can be diverse. That is, we encounter plurality here; because, in the words of Ali ibn Abi Talib, we interrogate the text; methodically, of course. The believers' reference to the Book and Tradition leads not to unity of opinions but to plurality of opinions; as indeed it has. Then you and I choose among the narratives and readings that are presented. An epistemic choice, of course, not a choice based on personal preference. That is, we choose the reading whose arguments are more justified and whose textual evidence is more abundant.

Dr. Soroush recently said: "What is religion that it should be diminished or grow and become fat... what does it mean to say that religion is a fixed package with a specific quantity and weight, and then some people have come and want to make it thin or fat?" Whereas the expression "making religion thin" belongs to him, and he himself has said that Shariati was fattening religion, but my work is making religion thin.

Yes, making religion thin and fattening religion are his expressions. As far as I understand, in the recent interview, his point was that we should not have a mechanical encounter with religion, nor consider religion a package, nor have an essentialist encounter with religion. Otherwise, fatness and thinness are two attributes he used two decades ago to say that, unlike Shariati and some clerics, I have minimal expectations of religion. I understand his objection to mean that the attributes of thinness or fatness should not be applied to religion in such a way as if religion is a physical package, such that if a part of this package is lost, religion and religiosity are also lost. That is, a kind of invitation to consider that very fluidity of religiosity and the religious tradition, and to avoid an essentialist approach to religion, which I explained earlier. Essentialism is sometimes hidden, even if it is not spoken. In any case, it must be avoided. Religion and social phenomena are not specific, objective entities that are before our eyes like a table or a glass. You can easily say half of this table was lost due to sawing; but you cannot say such a thing with certainty about religion, modernity, secularism, or democracy. In any case, I imagine that sentence of Abdolkarim Soroush was aimed at avoiding this methodological error.

Dr. Soroush explicitly wrote in The Theoretical Contraction and Expansion of the Sharia: “Religion itself is truth. That is, all its components are true. How could someone, a believer in a religious school, hold a belief in it and also believe that it contains false statements?! … All components of religion are true … In religious knowledge, truth and falsehood are intermingled, but in religion itself, we do not have truth and falsehood intermingled. What exists is pure truth.” This view clearly contradicts Dr. Soroush’s current opinions; for in the last decade, he has explicitly stated that there are erroneous and false statements in the Quran. Therefore, can it not be said that the current Soroush is not a “believer” from the perspective of the Soroush who wrote The Contraction and Expansion?

This is like the very transformation we discussed at the beginning of the interview. In The Contraction and Expansion, the discussion was about explaining the manner of understanding the sacred text, but in the discussions of the last ten years, the matter of revelation itself and the manner of the formation of the sacred text has been raised; this encounter is clearly different from what Abdolkarim Soroush once said in The Contraction and Expansion. It can be said that a transition has occurred and he has stepped into a new phase, and in those days, he did not hold such a view. Moreover, I emphasize again, he has not said that there are erroneous and false statements in the Quran; rather, in his correspondence with Ayatollah Sobhani, he stressed that scientific data is incompatible with the “outward aspects of the verses.”

In any case, it was because of this very transformation that I earlier said Dr. Soroush’s work has progressed from reforming Al-Mizan to reforming the Quran.

I do not sympathize with the expression “reforming the Quran,” and I consider this transformation in Dr. Soroush’s religious-studies and theological views to be more a result of attention to the “infiltration of the science of the age into the Prophet’s dreams and experiences.” In light of this transformation, an expansion in the meaning of the “addressee of revelation” emerges, and we understand the text in a different way, and our expectations of the sacred text become more refined. Mr. Mojtahed Shabestari, too, in his discussions about faith and freedom and some of his other topics, by borrowing the concept of “news” and how we follow the news and consider ourselves the addressee of revelation, has addressed this same subject in another way. Being the addressee of revelation in the present age—an addressee who makes the text speak in a path-opening way—is born in the light of these discussions.

With this in mind, one must ask whether the addressees of the religious reform project are the majority of the Iranian people? Because most people are not like Mr. Shabestari, who can read these discussions and still preserve their religion. If they become immersed in these discussions, they will probably leave religion.

The addressees of this project are not the majority of the people. But the urban middle class, or the elite stratum and those who are preoccupied with scholarly and investigative religiosity, are primarily and essentially the addressees of these words; that is, those whom the words of the clergy and the bearers of traditional religiosity have not convinced. That is the answer to your question. At the same time, when the views arising from religious reformism are accepted among the urban middle class, they can gradually be fed to other people and thus influence the whole of society. In the Western world, too, traditional religiosity has not disappeared. I have often gone to church in England and Canada and listened to the words of priests. They are exactly like our own clergy. That is, they do not have a modern understanding of religion. Of course, they are tolerant and defend the rights of homosexuals, for example; although they believe homosexuality is a sin, because they grew up in the Western world, they believe in tolerance. I have a priest friend whose mindset is traditional, he is completely exclusivist and believes that only Christianity is salvific and guiding; he also believes in the verses of the Bible in the literal sense of the word. This young priest, 38-39 years old, who was born and raised in Canada, despite his traditional theological positions, defends the fundamental rights of all human beings, regardless of religion, race, gender, etc.

In fact, you are saying that if it were not for the discussions of Western intellectuals in the last two or three centuries, we would not now have such a priest who defends tolerance.

Yes, that is my impression. These people were not tolerant before. To be fair, the introduction of those discussions has had very significant socio-political implications and consequences, and has led to institution-building in the Western world. This pastor friend of mine, who has an attachment to the Baptist church and is not entirely in agreement with the doctrines and ways of the Catholic Church, has told me many times that if it were not for Luther and the Lutheran-Calvinist reform that resonated throughout Christendom—a reform that emphasized the authority of the sacred text (the Bible) and understood the words of popes and priests as subordinate to the verses of the Bible—the Christian world, both theologically and in terms of the state of the churches, would be in a completely different situation. I sometimes ask myself, what is the difference between this pastor and a cleric residing in Qom? He considers Christianity the alpha and omega and is exclusivist. He also believes the world was created in six days and holds beliefs of that sort. The difference between these pastors and our clerics lies in the 'accident of birth.' They happened to be born in the West and learned tolerance from early childhood. They did not have to struggle much to become tolerant. But it is very good that they are tolerant; they are deeply tolerant. That is, if they hear that a Muslim cannot perform their religious duties in Canada, they become deeply upset. Or, even though they consider homosexuality to be a false and sinful matter, they say homosexuals have the right to live in this society and their way of life should be recognized. This pastor friend of mine's understanding of religion is deeply traditional, and he does not, for instance, sympathize with Kierkegaard, Kant, and Spinoza, but rather upholds and promotes orthodox religiosity. Ninety-nine percent of what he says in church, if we set aside the Christian elements of his discourse, is exactly the same as the words of our own clerics. His listeners and audience are also traditional believers. In short, religious reform primarily addresses those who are persuaded by a more scholarly religiosity, are open to the new world, and at the same time have spiritual concerns. If the political and social obstacles to religious pluralism in Iran are removed and various styles of religiosity are accepted, good effects and results will follow. Religious reformists also do not expect all segments of society to be receptive to their views. When a pastor in Canada speaks to traditional Canadian believers just like our clerics do, certainly in Iran too, traditional believers wish to hear the same things from Iranian clerics. In our own family as well, my maternal and paternal aunts are traditional believers who are not the audience of religious intellectuals but rather the audience of the bearers of traditional religiosity, and they derive their religious understanding from the clerics.

If we consider the goal of the religious reform project to be—as Mr. Malekian puts it—the pruning of religion so that religion does not disturb human life in the present age, there is no problem; but if we consider the goal of this project to be the preservation of religion, it seems that Dr. Soroush's sharp criticism of the Islamic Republic, namely 'fostering unbelief,' also ensnares religious intellectualism itself; because in the last two or three decades, some people have left religion as a result of reading the views of religious intellectuals, and we are faced with a kind of contradiction of purpose.

I completely agree with pruning. Providing a humane and ethical reading of the religious tradition implies exactly this. But regarding the preservation of religion, I prefer to say that religious intellectualism seeks to present an alternative theological system whose entirety can differ from traditional religiosity. As for fostering unbelief, I do not deny your claim. It is entirely conceivable that some individuals have left religion by reading the ideas of religious intellectuals; but 'having seen that cruelty, behold the loyalty too!' On the other hand, I think, numerous individuals have entered the realm of religiosity and reconciled with spirituality and the sacred realm by reading the views of religious intellectuals; 'O butcher, this thigh comes with the neck!' Both aspects must be seen, and social matters inherently have such characteristics and exigencies. A matter whose consequences are entirely positive is very rare, perhaps even non-existent. The Quran, in describing itself, has also said, 'He misleads many thereby and guides many thereby.' That is, according to the sacred text, some people are led astray even by reading the Quran. Where the lightning of disobedience struck Adam the chosen one / How does it befit us to claim innocence? If some people are led astray by reading the Quran, it is entirely possible that some people also leave religion by reading the views of religious intellectuals.

Of course, it must also be said that some of those who left religion after reading Dr. Soroush's ideas, for instance, should have left religion twenty years ago, but because they were captivated by Soroush's ideas for a long period, they remained in religion; in fact, Dr. Soroush kept these individuals in religion for one or two decades! But aside from this, in your view, is the ultimate goal of the religious intellectualism project to facilitate human life in the modern world or to preserve religion in the modern world?

I think both.

What if a conflict arises between the two?

I don't consider the phrase "preserving religion" to be very precise. In my view, the work of religious intellectualism is to offer an alternative reading of religiosity. That is, to present a version of religiousness that is compatible with rationality. But regarding those who have left religion after reading the ideas of religious intellectuals, let me add this point: we only see our immediate surroundings. I personally, as a small member of the family of religious new-thinking, receive many written messages via email, Telegram, Facebook, and Viber, from Europe, North America, Afghanistan, Iraqi Kurdistan, border cities, and non-border cities in Iran, and the gist of what the authors of these messages say is that by reading your works, we have made peace with religion over the past few years. As I said, social phenomena are two-sided. You may have seen journalists around you who were once on good terms with religious intellectualism and have now left this current. I also know many people in Mashhad, Tabriz, Kish, Iraqi Kurdistan, Afghanistan, and Europe who—by their own account—were not on good terms with the spiritual matter and, as a result of reading the ideas of religious new-thinkers, have been drawn to religion. On the whole, there has been both attrition and growth.

It seems that the people who have sent you such messages are the more modern individuals from traditional cities and regions.

Yes, I agree. They have been from Bushehr, Iraqi Kurdistan, Iranian Kurdistan, Afghanistan, Mashhad, Qom, and so on. It is evident from their writings that they have carefully read the works of religious new-thinkers, including Dr. Soroush, Mojtahed Shabestari, and myself.

Dr. Soroush, in his debate with Bahmanpour, said: "Neither regarding Rumi nor anyone else (after the Prophet) do I believe in prophethood and its functions and requisites." But it seems that he does recognize some of the functions and requisites of prophethood (though not all of them) for mystics and even non-mystics.

It depends on what you mean by the prophetic functions. If you mean receiving revelation, we have it in the Quran that revelation was sent to the mother of Moses and even to the honeybee. Rumi also says, “He who is honored ascends / How could his revelation be less than the bee’s?” That is, if the honeybee receives revelation, why should a human being—of whom the Quran says, “We have honored the children of Adam”—not receive revelation? So revelation, according to the testimony of the Quran, is not exclusive to the Prophet. However, a distinction must be made between two categories (this distinction is fully observed in Mr. Soroush’s writings): the matter of revelation, that is, connecting to the inner realities of the world and undergoing blissful, dove-like experiences, is one thing, and the category of messengership and prophethood is another. The Quran does not say that the mother of Moses had a mission. Dr. Soroush proceeds from this point and employs the expression “expansion of prophetic experience.” In his view, the mystics have, in this sense, expanded the Prophet’s experience and shared in the Prophet’s tastes and ecstasies, and each according to their rank has had revelatory or inner experiences. But this does not mean that a mission is consequent upon the mystics’ experience and that others must follow them—absolutely not. The claim to prophethood and messengership was never part of the mystics’ work. The distinction between the “essential dimension” and the “legal dimension” of the finality of prophethood is entirely illuminating here. Abdolkarim Soroush has explicitly stated that the soil of history will no longer yield prophets, and the implication of finality is that a person who claims a mission and whose words are binding on others will no longer arise, and this door has been closed in history. This is the legal finality of prophethood. That is, the legal personality of the Prophet will not be repeated or expanded. But in the essential sense—that is, sharing in the tastes and ecstasies of the Prophet—this is something the mystics have done throughout history and, by their conduct and creed, have given a ruling in favor of the expansion of that experience. Therefore, as I understand it, the theory of the Prophetic Dream does not differ from the expansion of prophetic experience in this respect, and Mr. Soroush has explicitly distinguished these two stations from one another. Moreover, regarding Rumi, who is one of his beloveds, Dr. Soroush has not said anything beyond or outside this framework I have described. Of course, Rumi had unveilings and added to this religious tradition, but he did not claim messengership or prophethood, and Mr. Soroush has absolutely no such understanding of Rumi and takes the finality of prophethood (in the sense of the finality of the Prophet’s legal personality) very seriously. Yet he sympathizes with the inner experiences of the mystics and believes these experiences have contributed to the flourishing and efflorescence of Islamic civilization. In any case, elevating the inner experiences of the mystics is another matter and does not contradict the finality of prophethood.

In the debate with Bahmanpour, Dr. Soroush said: “{If we say} that what {the Imams} said was unquestionable, without the possibility of error, and based on divine inspiration, was exactly the word of the Prophet and not open to objection … would anything remain of the concept of finality but a deficient and diluted notion?” He recently said that we even have criticisms of the Prophet. This means we sometimes question even the Prophet and do not even accept some of his words. Does criticizing the Prophet not also entail a deficient and diluted finality?

His point in that interview was that we have no religious testimonies for refraining from criticizing the Prophet. That is, there is no verse or narration stating that the Prophet cannot be criticized. In fact, Mr. Soroush wanted to say that being a Muslim and following the prophetic tradition is, in principle, not incompatible with criticizing the Prophet.

But in the debate with Bahmanpour, he had said: do not say that the speech of the Imams was unquestionable like the speech of the Prophet, so that finality is not diluted. That is, he seemed to consider the unquestionability of the Prophet’s speech as one of the pillars of finality. If believers adopt a critical approach toward their Prophet, they do not necessarily leave the religion, but do they not dilute finality?

I imagine that finality (khatamiyyat) is not diluted; rather, our conception of the Prophet's prophethood and mission changes. That is, we can still regard him as the Seal of the Prophets, yet also say that the Prophet was a human being who can be criticized. Of course, this conception of finality differs from the religious orthodoxy and the common understanding among people, but I do not think the logical implication of this statement is the weakening of the finality of prophethood. Among our predecessors, the Mu'tazila spoke about the conditions of revelation's descent and the infiltration of Arab culture into the sacred text. This, too, was an unconventional matter, and the critics of the Mu'tazila, namely the Ash'arites and the jurists, did not approve of their statements. In any case, Arab culture had its own exigencies, and the critics of the Mu'tazila thought that if these discussions were broached, the sanctity of the sacred text would be diminished; because in Arab culture, right and wrong, pure and impure are intermingled, and if we accept that these matters infiltrated the sacred text, the text loses its uniformity and sanctity. But the Mu'tazila did not think so. Their response was that our conception of the formation of the sacred text differs from the common conception, yet this account aids a more reasonable understanding of the context of the sacred text's emergence.

In the debate with Bahmanpour, Dr. Soroush also raised this point: "How is it possible that after the Seal of the Prophets, individuals emerge who, relying on revelation and mystical intuition, utter words that have no trace in the Quran and the Prophetic tradition, and yet their teachings, legislation, obligations, and prohibitions are placed on the same level as prophetic revelation and acquire the infallibility and authority of the Prophet's words, without any breach occurring in finality? So what does finality negate and prohibit? / Calling the Shiite Imams commentators and elucidators does not untie this knot either, because a great many of the sayings of those Imams are new and unprecedented rulings." Now the question is: if a great many of the Imams' sayings are new and unprecedented rulings, and this very fact signifies a violation of finality, then a great many of the sayings of religious intellectuals and even reformist clerics possess the same characteristic. When religious reformists issue new rulings, and Dr. Soroush also considers revelation to be ongoing and regards mystics and philosophers as those who, relying on revelation and intuition, have spoken new words and added to Islam, does anything remain of finality but a name devoid of meaning?

Mr. Soroush's judgment regarding the conception some Shiites have of Imamate is that they implicitly accord the Imams the same status and position they accord to the Prophet, and the relationship between Imamate and finality is unclear. That is, the sayings of the Shiite Imams are also considered obligatory to obey, and one must "obey" them. This conception of Imamate is current and prevalent among the Ghulat (extremist) Shiites. The Ghulat Shiites do not articulate this claim verbally, but in practice, they hold such a position. For instance, the rulings on khums in its current form have no precedent in the Prophetic tradition and belong to the Imams. Most Shiites, because they consider the Imams as obligatory to obey just like the Prophet, regard the Imams' rulings on khums in the same way as the Prophet's rulings on other matters. Dr. Soroush's critique of such Shiites is: why do you place the Imams alongside the Prophet and accord the Imams the same status and position you accord the Prophet? But as for what you said about the practice of religious reformists, the answer is that religious reformists are in the process of realizing reform within the religious tradition by emulating the spirit governing this tradition; in this sense, this work does not violate finality. Religious reformists say that in this era, we reread and recreate the message of the Prophetic tradition, which was formed in another context and time, by emulating the possibilities, expressions, and tools of that tradition. The implication of this statement is that, for religious reformists, finality has both a name and a meaning. Moreover, religious reformists are not jurists to issue rulings; rather, they share their theological-philosophical-mystical-religious studies reflections with their audience. That is all, and nothing more.

“Religious intellectuals” are not jurists, but when we speak of “religious new-thinkers,” at least a few jurists enter the picture. In any case, the practical problem here is that, for example, a hundred and fifty years after the Prophet’s death, the Shi‘a Imams, when faced with the everyday issues of life, were compelled to issue new rulings that had no precedent in the prophetic tradition. Now, 1,400 years after the Prophet’s era, religious intellectuals and new-thinking clerics are rightly compelled to issue rulings that had no precedent in the Prophet’s words. So why, fundamentally, should we regard new legislation and the issuance of new rulings as a sign of violating the finality of prophethood?

No, the point is that the Imams must not be placed in the station of the Prophet. This is what the ghulat (extremist) Shi‘a do. The Sunnis also have their caliphs and the four schools. They, too, are very fond of their caliphs and the leaders of the four schools, but they do not place them in the station of the Prophet. The question is whether some Shi‘a might treat the Imamate in such a way that the Imamate becomes not a successor to prophethood but a substitute for it. If this is not the case, and the distinction between prophethood and Imamate is taken seriously in practice and in actual realization, no one has a problem with ijtihad. Shi‘a jurists have spoken of ijtihad in secondary matters (furu‘), and religious new-thinkers speak of ijtihad in the principles (usul). This reform remains a reform within the heart of the religious tradition.

If we set aside the element of apostleship or mission, on which specific element is that station of the Prophet precisely based? If we set aside the Prophet’s mission, nothing remains that is beyond the reach of the Shi‘a Imams, or the mystics and jurists.

Note that what is meant is apostolic revelation; that is, a revelation upon which a mission is consequent—a revelation accompanied by the prophetic mission. The file on this discussion is closed, and no prophet will appear after the Prophet. The objection to the ghulat Shi‘a is that they deal with the Imamate in a way as if it were a substitute for and counterpart to apostolic revelation.

If someone considers themselves a Muslim but does not accept the Prophet, logically their Islam is not acceptable. But the ghulat Shi‘a say that if someone considers themselves a Muslim but does not accept the Imams, their Islam is also not acceptable. Dr. Soroush is apparently sensitive to this claim.

Yes. That is, what holds centrality and is the pillar of the tent is prophethood. Mr. Soroush has also said, as a counterfactual condition, that the Prophet’s audience in early Islam—though they had not seen the Imams and, in today’s terms, were not Shi‘a and did not possess walaya (in the Shi‘i sense of the word)—there is no doubt about their being Muslims, and their Islam lacks nothing.

In fact, from Dr. Soroush’s perspective, a Muslim who does not accept the walaya of the Shi‘a Imams faces no problem for their otherworldly salvation.

Yes, that is so; although some Shi‘a dislike this statement. At the same time, as I understand it and have written in the article “The Theology of Religious Intellectualism: Assessing the Relationship between Religious Experience, Religious Knowledge, and Religious Action,” what is the pillar of the tent and the constituent of salvation in the later school of religious new-thinking is prophethood.

In his debate with Bahmanpour, Dr. Soroush also raised the point that the Prophet’s knowledge is unmediated, accompanied by infallibility, and possesses authority, and that the “ghulat Shi‘a” recognize such knowledge for the Imams as well. But when we ourselves have criticisms of a Prophet who possessed such knowledge and consider his knowledge—as manifested in the Qur’an—to be mixed with error in numerous instances, what need is there at all to quarrel with the ghulat Shi‘a over the issue that only the Prophet of Islam possessed this error-laden knowledge? Let them say that others also possessed such knowledge!

As I mentioned earlier, the discussion is not about knowledge that is mixed with error and manifested in the Qur’an. Such expressions have never been used in the writings of religious new-thinkers; rather, the discussion concerns the incompatibility of the “outward meanings of some verses” with scientific data and findings. Moreover, the boundaries and limits of the Prophet’s knowledge are not relevant or central here; rather, the discussion concerns his utterances being necessarily obeyed. That is, if the Prophet’s word holds centrality and is the pillar of the tent of religiosity, we must not say anything that would extend this status and station to others as well. The main locus of the dispute is here; the rest is secondary to the story. This is how I understand it.

It seems to me that in discussing Dr. Soroush's view on "the introduction of error into the Qur'an," your answer is expedient and based on certain considerations; unless Dr. Soroush's current view differs from the one he expressed in his debate with Jafar Sobhani. With your permission, I will pose the next question. In 1988, Dr. Soroush wrote: " Some individuals have said … the words of the prophets are on a par with the work of poets. These statements are, in the precise sense of the word, 'atheistic.'" Two decades later, in his debate with Ayatollah Sobhani, he wrote: "To understand the unfamiliar phenomenon of revelation, we can seek help from the more familiar phenomenon of poetry (and artistic creativity in general) … This is only in the realm of conception." In these sentences, which are clearly different from those 1988 statements, the likening of the Prophet's work to that of poets and artists is, of course, accompanied by a caveat ("This is only in the realm of conception."). But less than a decade later, even that caveat was removed from Dr. Soroush's theory of revelation, and in his debate with Abdolali Bazargan, he explicitly stated that the Prophet was an artist. Whereas in that same 1988 article, he had said: "It is emphasized in the Qur'an that the Prophet is not a poet." Given this intellectual trajectory, my question is: where is the boundary between religious reform (or moving away from religious orthodoxy) and exiting religion?

Two years ago, I had a written debate with Dr. Mahmoud Sadri. In that debate, which took the form of our responses to questions from the "Cheshmandaz" journal, Mr. Sadri raised the reform-revival dichotomy. From his perspective, what is useful to us is religious revival; because the project of "religious reform," according to my understanding of Dr. Sadri's argument, entails a kind of slippery slope that progresses and gradually leaves nothing of religiosity behind; or, in your words, religious reform ultimately leads to exiting religion. I do not sympathize with Dr. Sadri's dichotomy and formulation. Of course, in my own writings, I have spoken of the revival-reform dichotomy, but I do not agree with Sadri's account of this dichotomy. Religious revival means emphasizing neglected aspects of religion and removing superstitions and the like, and it is entirely within the paradigm of religion and is carried out by invoking the means, instruments, and resources of the religious tradition. The work of figures such as Motahhari, Qabel, and to some extent Kadivar, are examples of religious revivalism in the present day. In religious reform, as I said before, a kind of reconstruction of religious understanding and the provision of an alternative theological system takes place. The well-known and important examples of religious reformism are Iqbal, Soroush, and Shabestari. Shariati, who spoke of religious Protestantism and proposed the "Geometric Design of the School," was also walking in this same terrain. Shariati was influenced by Iqbal as well, but he lacked Iqbal's philosophical depth and perhaps religious knowledge, yet due to his genius and brilliant mind, he knew what he was doing and named his synthesis the "Geometric Design of the School"; a design that appears in his Islamology. His work also fell under the project of religious reform. As for where the boundary between religious reform and exiting religion lies, in my opinion, there is no clear boundary; meaning that, as long as an individual invokes the religious tradition and is thinking of offering a new narrative and an alternative reading vis-à-vis religious orthodoxy, and bases their statements on certain passages of the religious tradition, they are still walking under the project of religious refinement or religious reform; even if their statements are unconventional. If it can be shown that their statements logically entail a departure from the religious tradition, meaning they have no relation to monotheism, prophethood, and the afterlife, and that individual themselves accepts that their statements have no relation to the religious tradition and the pillars of this tradition (i.e., monotheism, the afterlife, and prophethood), then that individual exits the project of religious reform and thereby also leaves the realm of religiosity. But reformists believe that their statements do relate to the pillars of the religious tradition, even if they are distant from common understanding (or from religious orthodoxy). In other words, as I said before, I believe in a kind of fluidity in these matters and do not imagine that we have a "touchline" in social phenomena, including in the realm of religiosity. A touchline is good for a football game, but in these realms, which involve subtlety and fluidity, we do not have a touchline to tell someone that the ball of their thoughts has gone half a meter out of the field of religion! If an argument can logically be made that the person themselves and the scholarly community accept that their statements entail a crossing beyond monotheism, the afterlife, and prophethood, then it can be said that that reformist has – as Wittgenstein would say – entered another language game and has exited the realm of religious reform.

The problem this answer creates is that we do not understand why Mr. A is a religious intellectual who is religious and Mr. B is a religious intellectual who is non-religious. Because both of these individuals have sympathy for religion and invoke the religious tradition.

The non-religious religious intellectual invokes the religious tradition because he considers religion an important element in the political and social sphere and seeks to offer an emancipatory reading of religion. However, he is not "personally" religious, and if you ask him about his personal beliefs, he will tell you himself that he does not personally believe in the pillars of the religious tradition. But when a religious intellectual explicitly says he believes in monotheism, resurrection, and prophethood, we can no longer tell him that he is not personally religious either. The commonality between these two religious intellectuals is offering an emancipatory reading of religion. Their distinguishing feature is their personal beliefs.

I asked the previous question because the non-religious religious intellectual, in all likelihood, has left religion while engaged in this very project of religious reform. That is, you yourself ultimately believe that a religious intellectual eventually crosses a line somewhere and has now become a non-religious religious intellectual.

Yes, it is conceivable that such a thing could happen. But in that case, he would become disillusioned with this game, that is, the epistemic game of religious reform. Of course, some individuals who do not have religious attachments also take the project of religious reform seriously and believe that reforming our social and political situation depends on taking the project of religious reform seriously.

Dr. Soroush previously spoke in condemnation of instrumentalism and emphasized that Shariati was not an instrumentalist. But the non-religious religious intellectual apparently has an instrumentalist encounter with religion. If we recognize the non-religious religious intellectual, we are in fact no longer condemning the instrumentalist approach to religion.

It depends on what is meant by instrumentalism. Suppose someone truly has no religious belief; he cannot lie to himself. At the same time, he has political and social concerns. He also considers religion the most important cultural component of our current society and has an acceptable familiarity with the religious tradition. Therefore, he tries to offer a reading of the religious tradition that serves the realization of political and social freedoms. I consider an instrumentalist to be someone who acts contrary to his belief and engages in duplicity to achieve certain desires. But the non-religious religious intellectual does not engage in duplicity and, as a social activist, sees that the most important component of tradition in our society is religion and considers social and political reform impossible except through religious reform; the work of such a person can be considered justified. Until now, we have known the school of religious new-thinking through religious new-thinkers who are religious, but in my opinion, there is no problem in principle with expanding the ranks and numbers of the activists of this school.

Dr. Soroush recently said: "Religious intellectuals are not religious in the traditional and Shariati sense of the word. This is something that must be said and not concealed." But two decades ago, in the book "Tolerance and Management," in his critique of Sufism, he wrote: "Pushing aside the shell and leaving the core free caused the core itself to be lost as well." Is the religious intellectual's distancing from religious practice not stepping onto a path whose end is exiting religion?

Not at all. I imagine his style of religiosity becomes different from the traditional style of religiosity. That is, their type of piety becomes different. In this type of religiosity, spiritual individuality and solitude become prominent; unlike collective and ritualistic religiosity, in which attending religious gatherings and congregations holds special importance. Religious thinking becomes prominent in this type of religiosity, and the importance of the quantity of deeds diminishes. Inner experiences also hold special importance in this type of religiosity. On the whole, a new style of religiosity emerges. It is not amiss to speak of the evolution of my own experience of religiosity. About twenty years ago, I was committed to definitely participating in the public ceremonies of Tasu'a and Ashura or being present at the ceremonies of the Nights of Vigil. I thought the Nights of Vigil must necessarily be held in the form of collective and ritualistic ceremonies. But gradually, considering that in livelihood-oriented religiosity there is no escape from ritual ceremonies, I distanced myself from this style of religiosity and my religiosity became individual; that is, focused on taking my own states seriously, observing the territory of my own existence, and distinguishing the cloudy and sunny days of this territory from one another. It can be said that this is another style of religiosity.

In this new style, does religious practice also become diminished?

Not necessarily. Of course, it depends on what you mean by religious practice.

Individual religious practice. Performing prayers and fasting.

No, its meaning can change. For instance, when I now perform prayers and fast, I see and seek another meaning in these acts and rituals.

That is, the pleasant state that you attain in this world from performing prayers and fasting takes priority for you.

Yes, I look at religious rituals, including prayer and fasting, from another perspective. In the article "Jurisprudential Rituals and Mystical Conduct: A Schema of Modern Mysticism 7," published in my book, Sepehri's Azure Philosophy, I have recounted, in my own narrative, a meaning-seeking and meaning-discovering encounter with religious rituals. In this conception, without denying the livelihood-oriented believers' encounter with religious rituals and acts, the existential and inner dimensions of religious rituals become prominent and central.

Dr. Soroush, in his book Tolerance and Management, has also said: "If you see people who are indifferent to the outward aspects of religion, do not trust them. The outward aspects of the Sharia are just as important as the inner aspects of the Sharia." It seems his opinion in this regard has also changed to a considerable extent.

Perhaps it should be said that the diversity of religious lifestyles has become more prominent for him. I agree with this. That is, rather than confining ourselves to the Sharia and the outward aspects of religion, we should turn our attention to the inner aspects of religion. Of course, his own style of religiosity is more or less the same as it was two or three decades ago, but during this time he has explicated other styles of religiosity and has recognized them more and more.

Dr. Soroush has always been a critic of earning a livelihood from religion, and moreover, he believes that earning a livelihood from religion has a broad scope. Are the instances of earning a livelihood from religion only that a certain cleric mounts the pulpit and receives his pulpit fee or obtains a governmental position? Is not the attention various media give to religious intellectuals, and the fame, status, and authority they, willingly or unwillingly, gain as a result of speaking about religion, an instance of earning a livelihood from religion?

Earning a livelihood from religion means that your sustenance and occupation establish a relationship with religion. What you are saying is, as logicians put it, a shared characteristic. A physicist or a sociologist may also gain fame and status in society through teaching at a university and conducting scientific research. Should we say that they earn a livelihood from physics or sociology? In one sense, that is true, but there is no escaping this. A religious reformist, because he is engaged with religion, the more he advances in this field, if his words find favor in society, in the sense you mean, earns a livelihood from religion. That is, his relationship with religious studies becomes like that physicist's relationship with the science of physics, yet there is no escape from this situation. Engaging with religion, in the style of religious intellectuals, has a function in our society that traditional bearers of religion are incapable of fulfilling; opponents of religion also have no belief in fulfilling such a role. If this style of engaging with religion had no function, firstly, it would not have emerged in our society, and secondly, it would not have lasted a hundred years. The second point is that religious reformists must be careful that, beyond a certain point, their words do not arise from expediencies related to their livelihood. Otherwise, the mere fact that the words and thoughts of religious intellectuals have created social prestige for them is not problematic. What matters is that they do not earn a livelihood directly from religion. This is an important matter, and religious intellectuals must remain faithful to it. Moreover, in recent decades, religious reformists have generally paid a price and have lost some political, managerial, and academic positions and statuses. However, in principle, they must be warned to be careful that, now that this social standing has emerged for them, they do not speak out of self-interest.

Of course, in Dr. Soroush's view, earning a livelihood from physics and philosophy is unproblematic; earning a livelihood from religion is impermissible. But I asked the question about earning a livelihood from religion because it seems that the interminability of the religious reform project is partly due to the fact that religious intellectuals, through continuously speaking about religion, have gained a special position in Iranian society and are worried that if the religious reform project ends, their social status and authority will also be lost. That is, just as a cleric does not wish traditional religiosity to fade, apparently the religious intellectual also does not wish religious reform to be discontinued.

I imagine such a claim should not be made about religious reformists. In my view, the reason for this situation is that our society is in transition. If our society passes through this transitional period, for example, twenty or thirty years from now, we will no longer need a school of thought called religious reformism that has a function in society; just as we have no need for such a school of thought in contemporary Canadian society. In any case, the relationship is two-way; the law of supply and demand governs here. There is a demand due to the transitional period, and epistemic goods suited to this demand are supplied. If we move beyond this atmosphere, and become, for instance, like contemporary Swiss or Scandinavian societies, there will no longer be a demand for such epistemic goods that would require supply, and even if such goods were supplied, there would be no buyers. If the transitional period is passed, discussion and inquiry about religion will retreat to the backrooms of academies. In the academic circles of the Western world, discussion about religion is serious. For example, in the Department of Religious Studies at the University of Toronto, where I am currently working, I witness numerous and varied lectures and seminars being held, but these matters have little social manifestation. That is, these discussions, unlike in Iran, are not drawn much into the media sphere. Why? Because the entry of these discussions into the media no longer has a social or political function. Because the Western world has already passed through the era in which we find ourselves. The project of religious reform was pursued in the West several centuries ago and left its profound political and social impacts. The activists of religious reformism in the West, in your terms, also had a special social position. But the Western world no longer needs religious reformism, at least not on that grand and extensive scale, and those who think and write about religion no longer possess the social standing of figures like Erasmus, Spinoza, and Kant.

It is also worth pondering that the experience of religious intellectuals who came to power in Turkey shows that religion can become entangled with the “legitimate and illegitimate material interests and political expediencies” of religious intellectuals themselves, and, as it happens, these very religious intellectuals who attained power become an obstacle to the final and complete realization of the transition to democracy project.

Intellectuals everywhere in the world are, in Dr. Soroush’s words, the powerful without office. They do not necessarily have to occupy the seat of political power. However, a warning must be issued that if some people come to power in the name of supporting religious reformism (or are themselves religious reformists), they should not forget or set aside the teachings of religious reform. One of the most important of these teachings is the separation of the institution of religion from the institution of government. Of course, religion is present in the public sphere and is not, in practice, a private matter, but political legitimacy must not be tied to religion. And if some people, in the name of religious reformism, do such a thing and hinder the transition to democracy, they must be subjected to the blade of criticism; because these individuals have climbed the ladder of religious reformism but have not remained faithful to the political implications of religious reform.

It seems another common feature of religious intellectualism and the Islamic Republic has been a step-by-step retreat in the face of the onslaught of modern world values. With the difference that most retreats by religious intellectuals have been accompanied by theoretical justification, whereas the Islamic Republic has retreated without theoretical justification (for example, on the issue of hijab and women’s covering).

I do not sympathize with the term retreat. In my phrasing, a step-by-step critical re-reading has taken place and progressed.

But this critical re-reading over the past three decades has always been in favor of modern world values.

Yes, but the term “retreat” carries a negative connotation. I have no problem with you saying that critical rethinking has taken place and some religious new-thinkers, like myself, have reached the conclusion that not covering the hair and neck has no moral reprehensibility or, in the words of the late Qabel, has no religious-legal objection. Moreover, all religious new-thinkers believe that compulsory hijab is an immoral matter. In fact, religious new-thinkers have taken issues from society and addressed them as part of the project of critically re-reading the religious tradition. Although the issues have been taken from society, addressing these issues has been methodological and has had an epistemic character. In the Islamic Republic, too, the discussion of politics has its own exigencies, and one of the important components of politics is pragmatism or weighing expediency in practice. I mean to say that there are two different types of approaches to these issues. Rulers are compelled to make practical assessments of expediency, while thinkers must provide reasoning and consider issues in an epistemic manner. That is, both the Islamic Republic and religious new-thinking have taken issues from society but have had different encounters with them.

Dr. Soroush, on the whole, believes that an ethical life guarantees otherworldly felicity; contrary to those who consider faith and religious belief as a condition for otherworldly salvation as well. I myself find Dr. Soroush’s view more reasonable and fairer, but if we accept this view, religiosity becomes something not so vital in the life of modern human beings.

I will answer this question from my own perspective. In Mr. Soroush's thought, as you mentioned, this theme is very prominent, and I too deeply believe in it. In other words, according to this view, if someone diligently, sincerely, and through scholarly inquiry reaches the conclusion that religious knowledge is not justified and that religion is not a knowledge-imparting matter, they set religion aside and have committed no error from a religious standpoint. Do we not have in the Quran, "God does not burden any soul beyond its capacity" and "Man shall have nothing but what he strives for"? Commentators have also said that God not imposing a duty beyond one's capacity means He does not impose a duty beyond one's physical or mental capacity. It is not just physical capacity; it is mental capacity as well. If someone, through diligent, sincere, and scholarly inquiry, reaches the conclusion that religious claims are not knowledge-imparting claims, I imagine they will not be held accountable in the world after death; even if their view is erroneous from the perspective of the faithful. As I have written in the article "Apostasy on the Scales of Ethics," we must distinguish between two types of error: "epistemic error" and "moral error." In many cases, if someone leaves religion, even from the perspective of the faithful, they have committed an epistemic error, not a moral error. What one is held accountable for is moral error. An epistemic error is like you asking me what day of the week it is, and I say Wednesday when it is actually Tuesday. Lying, however, is a moral error. In the article "Apostasy on the Scales of Ethics," I have written that even if the apostate has erred, firstly, the punishment prescribed for them is not proportionate to their offense, and secondly, no one should be punished for committing an epistemic error. The nature of such a person's error, if formulated from the perspective of believers, the faithful, and the devout, is an epistemic error, not a moral error. In any case, whatever has occurred is a matter between them and their God; and the worldly punishment of the apostate is an unjustified matter that should be set aside.

If someone says that homosexuality should be recognized as a lifestyle, have they committed an epistemic error, a moral error, or neither?

Are you asking this question of a religious neo-thinker or a jurist?

Of a religious intellectual. Because Dr. Soroush, unlike Arash Naraghi and some other religious intellectuals, has never been willing to defend the rights of homosexuals.

But he has not negated them either. I personally defend the rights of homosexuals. In my view, a religious neo-thinker can defend the fundamental rights of homosexuals. At the same time, they can say that homosexual behavior is not justified from the perspective of the sacred text. This is my judgment. The rights of homosexuals must be defended just like the rights of religious minorities and women's rights; but defending the fundamental rights of homosexuals is a separate matter from whether a religious justification can also be provided for this act. If you ask me about the religious justification for this act, I do not think a justified account can be derived from the sacred text that deems homosexuality permissible. Such a thing cannot be methodically derived from the sacred text. The discussions of my dear friend Mr. Naraghi regarding homosexual behavior from a Quranic perspective seemed, in my view, contrived and unjustified, and Mr. Armin's response to him was convincing and acceptable. I have personally examined those verses, themes, context, and occasions of revelation carefully. In my view, Mr. Armin was right in this matter, and such a reading of the sacred text regarding the permissibility of homosexual behavior is unjustified. Furthermore, I do not sympathize with the notion that homosexuals should be held accountable in this world for choosing this lifestyle. As for the relationship between them and God and the otherworldly judgment of their behavior, given that we are not meant to sit upon God's throne and do His work, it is better to leave this important matter to Him and not to speak or utter a word about it. The matter of safeguarding civil rights in this regard is one thing, while moral and religious judgment is another category. As I understand it, one can defend the civil rights of homosexuals while simultaneously deeming this act unjustified from a moral and religious perspective. Moreover, one must know one's limits, leave God's work to God, not become a divider of heaven and hell, remain silent about the goodness and badness of individuals and their otherworldly state, and, following Saadi, say: "I know not the unseen within him," and murmur the following exquisite verses of Hafez under one's breath:

Find not fault with the profligates, O ascetic of pure nature,

For the sins of others will not be written against you.

Whether I am good or bad, go and mind your own self

Everyone reaps in the end what they have sown

Do not make me despair of the precedent of eternal grace

What do you know behind the veil, who is fair and who is foul

Thank you for participating in this critical conversation.

I thank you as well.

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Interview by Hooman Dorandish with Soroush Dabbagh

Source: Hooman Dorandish's Personal Website

Published on 3 November 2016

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