According to Wikipedia, the author of this book was a former British diplomat in India and a teacher and editor in Cairo. At some point in this career he converted to Islam, and spent the latter half of his life as a scholar and public intellectual specializing in Islamic civilizations. He approaches Islam from the perspective of the "perennial philosophy,” which I associate most closely with figures like Aldous Huxley, who are disposed toward the discovery and explication of telling commonalities between the world’s faiths, revealing them to be culturally embedded and therefore superficially variable manifestations of a universal or near-universal set of human spiritual preoccupations and yearnings.
The danger in such an approach is the soupy conflation of disparate and possibly contradictory ideas and traditions. The spirit of structuralism can sometimes overbear the material and reduce complex phenomena to fit prescribed patterns. And, because the commonalities in question are so often about mysticism, a related risk is the prioritization of a faith’s intellectual and esoteric features rather than its sociological ones. In a faith as socially and behaviorally grounded as Islam (in Eaton’s telling here), this would be a serious deficiency.
Luckily, Eaton’s passion for his subject matter is matched by a depth of scholarly knowledge. The book appears to be frequently recommended as a primer on Islam for people like me, who are interested in learning more about the faith (especially comparatively), but who lack much serious prior knowledge. I’d further these recommendations, with a few qualifications.
This short but dense book is divided into three sections. The first outlines Eaton’s view of Islam in the world today, as a political agent and in relation to post-Christendom Eurasia and the US. Eaton deliberately avoids describing these lands as “the West.” Partly this choice is motivated by a desire to distance himself from the provincialism of past orientalists, whom he reads as so often falling prey, wittingly or no, to sensationalism and maximizing perceived differences between the Muslim world and the “civilized” West.
This is a valid enough reason, but a more specific and interesting one stems from the book’s era (pub. 1985), and Eaton’s wish to acknowledge the cultural continuity between Western Europe and the US on the one hand, and the Soviet Union on the other, the latter being structured at least nominally on Marxist principles which are as “Western” as any others. For these reasons he contrasts “the orient” with its more old-fashioned opposite, “the occident,” and uses this noun and the adjective “occidental” throughout when making comparisons.
Another facet of this first section is Eaton’s emphasis on the independence of his own views from the politics of the Arab world. As a Sufi who seems to relate to his faith in scholarly and historical terms, he views much of contemporary Islam among Arabs as politicized and ethnicized to the detriment of spirituality and of what for Eaton is the purpose of religion, the cultivation of a constant awareness of God’s presence (the Arabic term for this is taqwa). He argues that the form of Arab Islam which wears its anti-Westernism on the sleeve – one assumes he has figures like Sayyid Qutb in mind – and which sells itself as a much-needed radical (as in the Latin radix) return to origins is in fact, ironically, highly Western in its revolutionary structure and goals, and, because of this as well as its explicitly mass-political nature, highly modern as well. He further argues that an understandable but spiritually corrosive postcolonial resentment and insecurity is a major fuel for this form of Islamic politics. Although Eaton’s tone on these matters is occasionally paternalistic and head-patting, especially coming from a former official of an insidious empire, a lot of this seems hard to argue with.
The book’s lengthy middle section covers the early history of Islam, beginning with the pre-Islamic status quo of a monotheism that had grown increasingly polytheistic over the years through syncretism – Eaton vividly describes a “thick forest” of lesser gods surrounding the Kaaba – and proceeding through the life and death of the Prophet, the rule of the four “rightly guided” caliphs (the Rashidun) immediately following upon the Prophet’s death, from thence to the splendor and decadence of the Abbasid caliphate in Baghdad, and to the improbable establishment of Islam in Spain.
As you can imagine, this is a whirlwind tour despite the relative length of the section, and if much of the history is new to you (as it was to me) this will require a slower pace of reading. I also get the sense that Eaton is less at home narrating battles and assessing the administrative competence of this or that caliph than he is talking about “Big Ideas.” Indeed, Eaton’s literary flair when discussing Islam’s theological and philosophical dimensions, and in his preferred terms, the religion’s affective ‘feel’ or ‘climate’ as generalized across its practice, is probably the main reason for the ongoing healthy readership of a decades-old monograph in the “SUNY Series on Islam.”
At any rate, it’s definitely my biggest reason for recommending the book: there are plenty of other places you can get a rundown on the 101 of Islamic history and thought, but no place else will render them quite like Eaton. This is especially true of the book’s third section, which discusses Sufism, the relationship of Islam to art (especially architecture and calligraphy), and views of the afterlife. The syntax throughout is refreshingly rich, layered, and twisty-turny. This is in service of an allusive and poetic style. If you overlooked the dates of his citations and the occasional obviously modern allusion (e.g. a tangential and disgusted description of a nude by Lucian Freud), you could easily think that you are reading prose of the 19th century. I mean this as a fine compliment, though of course some others will not read it this way. A quick scan of the first five pages will likely help each reader decide for herself.
As an example of Eaton’s poetic disposition, I was struck by Eaton’s statement that in terms of affect and the ‘lived experience’ of religious life, Christianity is to fire as Islam is to snow. Knowing a bit more about Christianity, the first half of this rings completely true to me: it is a religion grounded in passionate love of a Person, and mystic after mystic has represented this burning devotion as a fire of the heart, or in Eliot’s adaptation of this motif in the Four Quartets, with a shirt of fire, with salvific dance to the motions of holy fire, and the famous unity in “Little Gidding” of “the fire and rose.”
Given Islam’s desert origins, the analogy to snowfall may seem strained, but Eaton convincingly argues that as far as psychological reality goes, the absence of snow in the Quran is a matter of geographical happenstance. Were it available as a meaningful point of reference for the Quran’s original readers, it would have made for a perfect contrast with fiery Christianity: Eaton evokes a spirit of Islam marked by love but also by the virtues of sobriety, practicality (embodied in the priority of jurisprudence over “theology” per se), and the acquisition of clarity of understanding through the free and creative exercise of gifted intelligence. All this is captured for Eaton in the “cool luminescence” of the whitened post-snowfall world. Walking around the block between chapters of this book, late at night in subzero temperatures witnessing exactly the picture Eaton describes, I felt there was something true and moving about this imagery.
I also have some criticisms. Eaton is viciously anti-atheist and anti-Marxist, and he doesn’t really back up his broadsides on these topics with argumentation. To do so would likely be beyond the scope of the book, but then so is the original vitriol. His line on the relationship of Marxism to faith reminded me of Joseph Ratzinger’s denunciation of liberation theology in the 1980s, before he became pope. His view was that liberation theologians’ utilitarian use of Marxist thought as a tool for social analysis in Latin America was doomed to corrode the faith. The idea was that Marxism is both intrinsically atheist and a totalizing system of thought; consequently, if you tried to import any part of it, now matter how seemingly irrelevant to matters of religion, you were somehow inevitably importing the atheism as well, making liberation theology a Trojan horse in need of stern admonishment.
Eaton’s disdain for “left-wing Islamic movements” is almost identical, except for the added observation that Islam itself is a totalizing system of thought and behavior, in addition to Marxism. The presence of not one, but two self-contained and intricately intra-dependent thought-systems makes the possibility of their dynamic interrelation seem all the more ludicrous. Neither Ratzinger nor Eaton explains to my satisfaction why, exactly, Marxian critiques of capitalism or imperialism are always necessarily the atheistic camel’s nose under the Ummah’s tent. To the contrary, the concept of commodity fetishism has obvious parallels to that of idolatry, a concern of all the Abrahamic faiths but especially of Islam, as Eaton himself believes. (Eugene McCarraher explores these parallels in Christian terms in his own recent book, The Enchantments of Mammon.)
Eaton’s apparent ambivalence toward science also struck me as strange and unnecessary. In the book’s last chapter he discusses Ash’arite theology, whose doctrine of “occasionalism” asserts that there are no “natural causes” of events per se, because all changes are ultimately caused not by immediately preceding physical events, but by God’s will. Elephants could birth antelopes and gravity could reverse itself at any moment, should God see fit. It is important to understand this, because if physical and temporal occurrences are treated as causes in their own rights, then they are effectively treated as ‘creators’ of scenarios; hence as ‘gods’; and hence as objects of idolatry.
Furthermore, creation did not just happen once, it is always and ongoingly happening. At every infinitesimally small instant of time, God has decided to allow the universe to exist for another moment. Eaton introduces the thrilling comparison of this cosmology to the technology of film and film editing, in which each frame seems to the viewer to ‘cause’ the subsequent frame but in which, in actual fact, each frame is a discrete image, a blip of reality independent of any causational chain with the images surrounding it, and which therefore can be spliced, shuffled around, or destroyed as the editor-God sees fit.
This is all well and good, even fascinating. But Eaton then declares, as though it were obvious, that these views are incompatible with the scientific method and that Muslims would do better to simply fess up to the fact that their worldview could not in principle produce “occidental” technology. In Eaton’s view, this is so because the production of advanced technology requires the adoption of “scientific” (which he conflates with “atheist” and “materialist”) assumptions about the feasibility of analyses which account only for material actors, and which are useful not despite, but because of their exclusion of everything that is immaterial. In other words, to be a scientist is inherently to treat physical events as causes, in the fashion that is problematic to Ash’arite thought.
This simply isn’t so, however. Even an atheist scientist would recognize that there is no one ‘cause’ of any event, except as a matter of contextual convenience; the spatial and temporal scope of the diagnosed ‘cause’ can always be expanded or contracted. Moreover, a Muslim scientist can operate, in their capacity as a scientist, within the confines of a material analysis, while also, in their capacity as a Muslim, believing that (a) the proximate causes of physical events are only local or apparent, and are ultimately derived from God, and (b) God could and very well may flout physical principles if he wants to, but that this doesn’t exclude the possible study of God-derived physical principles in situations where God does not flout or alter them. To me, the radical contingency of the Ash’arite view of creation seems if anything to be complementary with David Hume’s famous skepticism-in-principle about the knowability of causation, which is generally considered a bedrock of modern science. In short, maybe Eaton elaborates on his view of science elsewhere, but in the absence of that elaboration here I find that his terse discussion does a disservice to his subject and to science.
Despite the detail in which I’ve gone into them, these complaints are essentially about blemishes of rhetoric. The book as a whole is detailed and compelling. I can even imagine it being life-changing. If you relish the pace of slow prose and are looking for a Sufist and Perennialist overview of Islam from a Western convert, this is not just an option, it’s the option. There is a hadith (quoted in the book) in which the Prophet acts as Messenger of Allah, and Allah is quoted as saying that “whoever comes to Me walking, I will come to him running.” If the beauty of this idea stirs you even a little, run, don’t walk, to grab this book.