This is a collection of essays by some of the most prominent scholars of religion and secularism in recent decades. Two primary essays by Talal Asad and the late Saba Mahmood establish the groundwork of the debate, following which each is critiqued by Judith Butler in a single essay, to which Asad and Mahmood then respond.
The papers investigate the notion of critique within the secular context - specifically, the concept of "blasphemy" and "free speech", as they are understood in contemporary Western discourse. Both Asad and Mahmood take as their starting point the mid-2010s Danish cartoon controversy, which refuelled the ever-contentious debate around freedom of speech and religion. Before proceeding, however, it might be useful to establish that the essays consider "free speech" from the perspective of it as an idea (that is, how it is conceptualised and understood), rather than as the mere existence of an environment in which people are free to say what they like.
Asad begins by scrutinising the claim that "Western Christian" societies are - in contrast to their Islamic counterparts - unique bastions of democratic practice and tolerance, by simply recounting how this does not reflect the historical record. Subsequently, continuing his lifelong engagement with formations of the secular, he problematises the conventional binary between "private" and "public" that characterises secular discourse and - in turn - its conceptualisation of Islamic society (where, it is said, no such distinction exists). Indeed, as he readily points out, in Euro-American society the "private" sphere is consistently violated by public regulation in (for example) matters relating to family welfare and, to some extent, sexual relations. Similarly, while there exists no such division between the public and private in the Islamic tradition, there is a recognition that the internal beliefs or view held by a person are distinct from the exercise of publicly expressing them (pp.36-7).
In a series of astute and probing arguments that all warrant great reflection, but only a few of which can be dealt with in the space available here, his thesis builds on these ideas to assert that secular modes of thinking makes it difficult to understand 'the passion that informs those for whom, rightly or wrongly, it is impossible to remain silent when confronted with blasphemy, those for whom blasphemy is neither "freedom of speech" nor the challenge of a new truth but something that seeks to disrupt a living relationship' (p.46). Indeed, while accepting that notions of freedom and truth are not inherently bound up in Islamic discourse as they are in Christianity (p.39), it is the insistence on associating so-called "blasphemy" with freedom (in as much as it threatens freedom) that prevents a proper assessment of the viability of those charges. In other words, the secular link drawn between blasphemy and freedom of speech (and it's important to remember critics of the Danish cartoon did not tend to use the Arabic equivalent for "blasphemy") translates the protests into something they essentially are not. Asad implies this may be bound up with the historical fact that (in the West) blasphemy charges accompanied by 'powerful punitive apparatuses' (p.46, 55). In fact this might lead us to the conclusion that secularism itself (as it is imagined in these grandiose narratives of Western/Judeo-Christian/Christian/Secular/Euro-American civilisation against a barbaric Islamic one) is dependant on an understanding of "religion" as an absolute entity onto which it can direct its moralising pronouncements. But this is just exploratory, on my part.
I don't think it would be fair to cast Asad as seeking to defend the violent response that followed the publication (and defence) of the cartoons, this is besides his point. Rather, his subject is the secular modes of thinking (or what he calls 'empirical feature[s] of modernity' (p.57)) that underpin the idea of blasphemy and their relation to enlightenment ideas of personal autonomy. In true Asadian fashion, these notions and ideas that so characterise secular discourse are never too far from historical determinants. But this bears much mulling over on my part before I can offer any substantial critique(!).
Mahmood's essay begins with echoes of Asad, as she conceptualises secularism as 'not simply...the doctrinal separation of church from state but also the rearticulation of religion in a manner that is commensurate with modern sensibilities and modes of governance' (p.65). Secularism, for Mahmood, presents itself as a necessity in opposition to so-called religious extremism, which embodies not only violence (which we can all readily oppose) but other motifs like 'veiled women' (p.65). In many ways, her essay is more disciplined than Asad's. She clearly sets out her argument as follows: 'Despite polemical differences, both [those who opposed the cartoons and those who sought to justify them] remain rooted in an identity politics (Western versus Islamic) that privileges the state and the law as the ultimate adjudicator of religious difference' (p.67).
Mahmood deconstructs the secular understanding of religion as embodied in symbols and images - something Asad has dealt with sufficiently himself in his 'Religion as an Anthropological Category'. But, for her, this greatly underestimates the depth of Muslim reactions to the cartoons. From this, it follows that the counter-reaction from secular(ised) commentators represents a kind of plea to Muslims to construct a division between subject (the Prophet and his status in Islam) and object (a depiction of him) that so distinguishes the secular understanding of religion (pp.73-4). In turn, she then examines the Muslim reactions, which is substantiated and strengthened by her own fieldwork.
Contrary to what the charges of "blasphemy" signify in the West, Mahmood contends that the moral injury emanating from the cartoons derives not from a violation of 'the law' but because of the place of the Prophet's example in the Islamic tradition and 'the perception that one's being, grounded as it is in a relationship of dependency with the Prophet, has been shaken' (p.78). In spite of this, she observes, European Muslims sought recourse in European legal institutions (most notably the ECHR). For Mahmood, these institutions and the legal norms they uphold are embedded within majoritarianist assumptions. That is, whilst they uphold freedom of religion, to extend that into the realm of constricting freedom of expression (as would be the case with, say, banning the cartoons' publication) relies on such an expression offending the so-called religious sensibilities of a majority. It is for this reason that a case in Turkey was successful in doing just this, but not when it is brought by Muslim minorities. I don't know how convinced I am by this argument, but the implication this is related very much to power differentials is worth thinking further about.
I only wish both Mahmood probed deeper into her particular argument that the Muslim reaction was itself characterised by a reliance on "the secular". This alludes to a line of thinking derived from, but largely overlooked in Asad's own work - that secular modes of thinking are so pervasive in both the so-called West and East, they can be employed by both of the alleged "sides" of the debate. But recognising this gets us no further in remedying the very real dislocations produced by persistent provocations of European minorities and their traditions.
Though I haven't offered much in the way of criticism for 'Is Critique Secular', I do hope some of the above outlines provide not just potential readers but myself with lines of enquiry to take up upon returning to the book.