The End of The Golden Age: Part 3

In my first piece of the series, I made a passing comment about the “so-called” Golden Age of Islam, implying a question as to whether this is indeed an accurate description. However, I held off on expanding upon this idea until now, as I first needed to establish some ground work. For their majority, the last two essays have operated on a very Western bias and outlook towards Eastern science and philosophy. This was partially intentional. I wished to present that outlook as it is the easiest place to start, and it is the starting point of most modern history one might read on the subject. I only inserted marginally challenging ideas to this bias, such as the defense of Al-Ghazali’s support of science and the idea of ijtihad of the spirit, but the even these were at heart Western in conception. But, having planted the seed of these doubts and different perspectives, it is now time to reap. This final installment will be a dedicated expose and attack on the Western biases which heretofore have assumed the end of Islamic science and thought. Indeed, it is totally mistaken to claim that the Golden Age of Islam ended. These ideas have more to do with the development of modern Western culture than they do with the actual history of the Middle East.

Background

In order to make the argument, let us try first to see the West through Eastern eyes, so to speak. That is, let us take the issue raised in the second essay, that of ijtihad vs. taqlid, and transfer it to an overview of Western scientific development in the early modern era. Strangely, this concept (which I posited as conceptual, not actual), is far more useful for understanding European intellectual history than it is for understanding the Middle East and Islamic world.

Historians of science in particular like to point to the significance of Copernicus and Galileo’s challenges to the geocentric model of the world, claiming that this was what resulted in a complete shift from medieval style science to the Mechanistic model of reality. And, hence, it resulted in what would come to be known as modern science. In pre-modern Europe, astronomy was not simply a branch of science, but a foundational model of the universe. Ptolemy’s (and Aristotle’s) geocentric system worked on philosophical and religious principles that ordered the universe in a series of spheres upon spheres, such as the orbit of planets, all the way out to the sphere of the stars, and beyond that the Prime Mover, i.e. God. God would spin the nearest sphere of the stars, and all others would then begin to turn as well, all the way down to the center. Thus could God guide all action and causality in the universe and on Earth. This, by the way, is part of the justification for astrology: assuming this model is true, one could predict what would happen on Earth based on the movement of planets and stars.

Coinciding with and dependent upon this model was also Aristotle’s views on physics. Aristotle argued that there were four elements: earth, water, air, and fire. And, in a perfect world, each had its place: earth was down, water was just above it, air was just above that, and at the top was fire. But the world isn’t perfectly set up like this; all of the elements are mixed. Mountains rise above the sea, fire can be found deep within the earth (i.e. magma), and so forth. But, Aristotle, claimed, these elements all tended to move towards their perfect place. Thus, earth tends to fall down, air tends to rise, water tends to settle in between, and so on. This essentially explained all physical motion without the need for modern notions like gravity, density, and so on. Given this conception, then, the Earth had to be at the center of the universe.

But, if someone were to challenge this model, then entire thing would fall apart. If the sun were at the center of the universe, the Earth would fall into it. If the Earth were to move, then it would fly apart. If the orbit of planets was not a perfect circle, they couldn’t be on a celestial sphere. If all of this were untrue, then where would be the Prime Mover? What room would there be for God? Given this reality, most European scientists and religious officials had a vested interest in the geocentric model and Aristotelian physics. All this began to change, say historians, when Copernicus demonstrated that a sun centered universe would fit our observations and calculations just as well as a geocentric one. That is, the sun may very well be at the center, because it would result in the same mathematical consequences. Needless to say, this would be a very troubling concept for European thought.

However, this was a non-issue in Islam. As inheritors of several different traditions of astronomy, from the Greeks to the Persians to the Indians, Islamic theology and philosophy was not tied up in concerns about the nature of the universe in terms of geocentric vs. heliocentric. Ptolemy’s model was used extensively because it did explain quite a bit of phenomenon and allowed for accurate predictions. But many Muslim astronomers questioned this system, some even going so far as to make proto-Copernican arguments for a sun-centered system. Most notable among them are Ibn al-Haytham (965 – 1039), al-Biruni (973-1048) and Nasir ad-Din al-Tusi (1201-1274). All three were geocentrists, but often made the similar point of Copernicus that a heliocentric universe would result in similar calculations and observations. In fact, all three were active critics of Ptolemy, championed experimental method and empirical observation, and did believe the Earth moved (on its axis). Al-Tusi was actually able to empirically demonstrate this final point. Historians are now finding that the models, arguments, and mathematics of these three, especially the last, can be found throughout Copernicus’ work. Whether he developed his ideas independently or had access to scattered translations, Copernicus was clearly working with a vast amount of similar information as his Muslim predecessors. So why, then, is the work of Copernicus and those like him so monumental and the work of their Muslim counterparts not?

Before answering, let us continue our analysis of Western science with Galileo. By this time, the telescope had been invented, allowing for more detailed observations than before. With the recent work of figures such as Brahe and Kepler, it was soon becoming clear that the Ptolemaic system couldn’t entirely explain everything. Galileo, working with his own observations and with Copernicus’ writings, became the first to really push for the heliocentric model of the universe. He also experimented in physics, challenging a lot of the old Aristotelian ideas of motion. Galileo’s arguments were very sound, but if he were right, it would mean that all astronomy and all physics up until that point would have to be rethought (at least in Europe). As brilliant as he was, Galileo was also skilled at making enemies, and he soon was able to make an enemy out of the Pope. The history at this point is well known: the persecution of Galileo by the Inquisition, the reaction of scientists against established truths, the formation of Newtonian physics, and so on. Suffice to say, historians of science often point to Copernicus and Galileo’s contribution towards the heliocentric model as the first step towards a new physics, a new science, and consequently, even new philosophy. With all old truths in doubt and all old authorities in question, thinkers such as Descartes felt compelled to start with reasoning alone, resulting in his famous words, “I think, therefore I am.” Thomas Hobbes began constructing a whole new conception of society based on similar original reasoning, beginning by positing man “in a state of nature,” i.e. before any government, and then reasoning out what kind of government is best. In short, this new doubt for everything spread to all aspects of European intellectual life, not simply the sciences. Galileo did not simply cast doubt on Ptolemy and Aristotle (as Muslim thinkers did so long before him), he cast doubt on the authority of religion, the church, and all traditional sources of authority. In a sense, then, we could say that Galileo made it necessary for European thinkers to abandon any sort of “taqlid of spirit” in favor of a kind of hyper-ijtihad wherein everything must be doubted and subjected to individual reasoning, from the ground up. And of course, historians say, it is from these new thinkers that the modern world was formed: democracies, the industrial revolution, advanced medicine, and so on.

As mentioned before, the geocentric world view was never so entangled in traditional authority, whether religious or secular, as it was in Europe. Thus, we might be able to understand why questioning it would not send so many shock waves through the intellectual culture. In other words, if Galileo had lived in 12^th century Baghdad and come up with the same ideas, what we think of as modern science, modern philosophy, and modernity in general may not even have happened. More likely, he would be among peers who would consider his ideas interesting, open for debate like anything else, but ultimately not be motivated to question every other traditional authority. There wouldn’t be a need for a Muslim version of Descartes, for example, nor a Muslim equivalent of Hobbes, or Locke, or Newton. The traditional authorities in science, society, and religion would have been adaptable enough to accommodate a heliocentric model without sending shock waves reverberating throughout all other aspects of society. In a way, then, modern scientists of the West actually own a debt of gratitude to the Catholic Church: by being so dogmatic and repressive of science, it actually gave challenging, new science greater effect! Islam, on the other hand, was perhaps too respectful of science for its own good.

Argument

But of course, this version of history carries a very strong Western bias: specifically, the assumption that the modern ideas that developed since Galileo are inherently superior and part of a historical teleology from start to finish. This is the assumption intentionally operating in all of my previous writing on the issue, right through the very last sentence of the preceding section in this essay. But, let us also look at the subtle clues hidden in my arguments: In my first essay, I argued that Al-Ghazali and those like him actually had a pro-scientific spirit. In my second essay, I argued that a taqlid of spirit dominated in the Muslim world, but at the same time I suggested that it was only a conceptual point, as the historical fact is that the gate never truly closed on ijtihad. And, in this essay, I have already demonstrated how Muslim science had a strong tradition of challenging norms and old models of science and philosophy without much constraint from traditional authority. So, let us return to my original question from the first installment of this series: “Why did the Golden Age of Islam come to an end?”

There is no real answer to this question, only a punchline. The Golden Age didn’t end. It was the European outlook which ended and began anew. Through its own inner workings, Modern European thought shifted into a form of hyper-ijtihadism, in which the gate closed on taqlid. This constituted what came to be modern era rationalization. Everything was rebuilt from the bottom up, premise by premise. Thinkers began with a “state of nature,” a first premise such as “I think, therefore I am,” and began reformulating every idea in every branch of human thought, from philosophy to science, and guiding every question from “What is the best form of government?” to “How did the universe begin?” Thinkers pursued these topics explicitly without the reliance on old authorities. They trusted only their sole reasoning. What resulted was the Age of Enlightenment, and eventually, the modern world.

But reasoning itself was nothing new. Reasoning had been around for quite some time. The principles of logic are ancient, as are math and the sciences. These men of Europe didn’t somehow get thinking “right” after all these millennia; thinking was right before. What mattered was their way of thinking, their hyper-ijtihadism, their rejection of all past authority, doubt for everything, and sole reliance on their own reasoning for knowledge. This was new. This didn’t, however, make them “more right.” Their mathematical principles were just as valid as the mathematical principles of the medieval Muslim astronomers. Their principles of logic were just as valid (or invalid, which was often the case) as their medieval Muslim forbearers’. What changed was an entire view of the world, a particularly Western view. It is from this view that came the notion of a Golden Age of Islam, as well as the notion of its decline.

As mentioned before, Western thinking became focused on rejecting authority and working from a foundational premise to all conclusions with an unerring logic. This was not simply a method, but a world view. To modern Western thinkers, reality itself would come to be seen as following the same process. That is, the history of existence flows from an original premise to a conclusion with an unerring logic, from one point to the next, in a secular teleology from start to finish. In short, it was the development of the idea of progress. A culture, they would come to believe, develops from its first, or “primitive,” form to its final development, like an evolution. And, all the cultures of the world followed the same logical progression. Given this view, it is easy to understand how someone might come to grips with the history of the Islamic world. Muslims science in the Middle Ages represented one stage, much like it did in Europe before Copernicus. But, it never developed into modern European style of thinking. To our new breed of European thinker, this presented a huge problem. If all of history is supposed to develop along a logical path of progress, then how to we come to terms with the fact that the Islamic world didn’t “progress” in the same way “we” did? Something must have interrupted the flow of nature. Something must have gotten in the way of the logical, “natural” progression. In short, something must have happened to end this age. And furthermore, this age must represent the last point of progress before decline, a marvelous “Golden Age” which at once promised future progress, but ended in disappointment.

This is the real source of the problem and the real source of the question: it is nothing more than a modern European illusion, an invention of a peculiarly European way of thinking since the modern era began. As such, it is the wrong question entirely. Nothing ended the Golden Age. There never was a Golden Age. There was an age, time passed, change occurred, and this change occurred on its own terms. A better question would be, “Why do we think the Golden Age ever existed?” The answer is that it is a modern, Western invention.

And this also tends to explain the mistakes of Western historians in interpreting Islamic history and philosophy. As hyper-ijtihadists looking for a theory of progress, it is natural to assume that independent reasoning is what leads to “higher” forms of culture. Europe moved from a religious, authority-centered world to one of freedom of thought, therefore independent reasoning tends to further science, philosophy, and society, whereas traditionalism, or “taqlid of spirit,” has the opposite effect. Such is the most reasonable assumption for one coming from a modern, European perspective. Thus, in looking for a cause for decline, one must look for tradition and traditionalists. Islam was a popular target for the likes of Ignaz Goldziher and his contemporaries. They argued that Islam was anti-science. Another popular target was Al-Ghazali, who does indeed hold a lot of respect for traditional authorities, particularly the Qur’an. And then, of course, there is the entire tradition of taqlid in Islamic jurisprudence, an explicit example of reliance on authority. To a modern, Western thinker, these are the most natural culprits. They simple fit the Western worldview in the best way. But, as I have been demonstrating with each of my three essays, they do not fit the evidence. These are not the real culprits. Taqlid never killed ijtihad, Al-Ghazali never killed philosophy (nor did Ibn Sina, for that matter), and Islam was not and is not anti-science. None of those arguments are supported by the evidence. In fact, the evidence contradicts them. These arguments are nothing more than conceptual fabrications based on the more fundamental fabrication: that a Golden Age ever existed.

Truly, this has not been a history of the Middle East or Islam. It has actually been a history of the Western world. My concepts of ijtihad and taqlid are indeed valuable for historical analysis, but for modern and early modern European culture, not for Islamic culture. Perhaps we should be grateful to the Arabic language for supplying the proper terms. In any case, there is still plenty that can be learned from this about the Middle East, Islam, and their histories. If we are to get a rational understanding of the East, as opposed to a rationalized one, it will require that we pick apart our assumptions in such a way as these three essays have done. The Middle East, Islam, and the cultures they entwine have changed in significant ways over time based on each one’s particular circumstances. There is no lack of development or progress, no backwardness or decline, and certainly no stagnation. These concepts and their corollaries are at best roadblocks to rational inquiry into the past, and as Said argued, they are at worst pathetically racist. If we can banish these biases from our minds, we can finally look at the evidence objectively.

The End of the Golden Age: Part 2

In my last entry, I discussed the infiltration of mysticism into Aristotle, and the infiltration of metaphysical logic into theology. I argued that it was to the detriment of both, and ultimately led to enough frustration that one element had to go. This element was philosophy (as understood by the medieval Arabic word). But this is far from a satisfying or all encompassing solution to the problem. As important as it is to understanding the issue, there is another element that I alluded to in my previous entry. I would draw the reader’s attention to one of the questions I asked, “Why did people begin to blindly follow the authority of certain scholars rather than analyze the spirit of their work or attempt to build upon it themselves?” It is this question in particular that I would now like to discuss, as I see it as the result of a fundamental conflict in Muslim intellectual culture: the dichotomy of ijtihad and taqlid.

First, I must give a rough definition of these terms as they are rather technical in Islamic law. Essentially, Islamic jurisprudence (fiqh) is centered on drawing conclusions about religious law from the Qur’an primarily and the Hadiths (reported sayings of the Prophet) as a secondary referent. However, Islamic jurisprudence quickly developed beyond these two essential source due to the fact that many passages and sayings were open to interpretation or didn’t cover certain specific cases. Thus, religious thinkers developed a number of methods for solving novel cases when the answers were not clear in the Qur’an or Hadith. It isn’t necessary to go into them in detail. The method most relevant to our discussion, however, is that of precedence. In other words, one way to solve a difficult legal problem was to look at how other judges had solved a similar problem and to draw an analogy from that. For instance, one judge might face a difficult question of whether or not hashish is legal to smoke under Islamic Law. The judge would look to the Qur’an and Hadiths, but find that hashish is not mentioned. However, he might draw an analogy between the effects of hashish and the effects of alcohol, which is clearly forbidden. Then, he would conclude that hashish is also forbidden. In this case, the judge is practicing what’s known as ijtihad, or independent reasoning, because he had to use his own reasoning to figure out the answer from the evidence of the two sources (in this case, reasoning from analogy, though there are other methods of ijtihad as well). But, now that the judge has made this decision, he has since set a precedent. Other judges, then, may simply refer to his conclusion and judge all similar cases accordingly without going back to the sources, the Qur’an and Hadith, to make their own judgments on the evidence. This is a practice known as taqlid, or obedience to what another (earthly) religious authority figure has decided, and imitating his decisions without question. Of course, the practitioner of taqlid might still have to use a bit of reasoning in order to make the conclusion fit. So, for instance, another judge might face a similar question about another narcotic, and then conclude it is also forbidden based on a reference to the similarity between this case and that of the first judge. However, the practice is still technically taqlid.

Eventually, this practice of taqlid led to the development of the Sunni “rites,” or legal schools, known as the Maliki, Hanbali, Hanafi, and Shafi‘i, each named after the judge who contributed the rulings and reasons derived from their independent research. The important thing to note is that these early thinkers of Islamic law arrived at their conclusions using independent reasoning, or ijtihad, for the most part. This is simply due to the fact that, in the early days, there was not much precedent upon which to rely. However, after the establishment of these rites, Sunni judges and scholars tended to rely less on their own judgment and more on the conclusions of these four rites. Thus, taqlid became increasingly practiced in Islamic Law. Although, as historians have pointed out, ijtihad never totally went away (historians refer to a inaccurate idea of “closing of the gat of ijtihad,” and I have no intention of resurrecting this historical myth), certainly no new rites were being developed and Muslims scholars of Sunni Islam simply accepted one of the four rites without much question.

Even though this is a technical piece of Islamic jurisprudence, it is still integrally important to my argument. I do not believe it was simply a coincidence that Islamic law began to abandon ijtihad in favor of taqlid near the end of the Golden Age of Islam. Although technical terms with a specific meaning, I think they also illustrate a more fundamental problem in Muslim, Arab, and Middle Eastern culture at the time. In many ways, students of the sciences and philosophy also entered into a period of “taqlid.” That is, instead of using independent reasoning to continue to develop theories of the past, scholars were satisfied with what past experts had said. Thus, as mentioned in my previous essay, scholars were willing to read Ibn Khaldun, but didn’t find it necessary to really expand upon, modify, or challenge his ideas in any significant way. Instead, his books were read as if they had already exhausted the topic. I argue that this is part of a more general problem that could be described as a general spirit of taqlid replacing a spirit of ijtihad. That is, the very attitude behind the assumption of taqlid in its narrow juridical meaning is one that seemed to take over every aspect of the intellectual culture, that unquestioned and blind obedience to past authorities is behind the end to the intellectual flourishing of the Middle Ages. Indeed, I argue that the very reason thinkers failed to develop older sciences and philosophies is the same as that which inspired judges to practice the method of taqlid more and more. Both stem from the same root: an attitude, or “spirit,” of blind obedience as opposed to a spirit of independent reasoning. In essence, the Golden Age ended when the spirit of taqlid conquered the spirit of ijtihad.

It should be noted that this is not an original argument. In fact, many older historians and even several early modern Muslim reformers referenced the problem of ijtihad vs. taqlid as fundamental to why Islamic culture supposedly declined. I have no intention of making the exact same arguments, as many of them are faulty and go against historical evidence. However, I want to introduce the two concepts in order to apply them analogically to an attitude which I believe underlies the assumptions of scholarly literature from the Golden Age vs. that of later times (specifically, during the era of the Ottoman empire). I am not using these terms in their juridical meaning, only as potentially useful analogies to describe or consider a more general, more fundamental attitude which lies beneath the surface. Thus, I am presenting more of an angle, or perspective, rather than a strict historical argument. The analogy could be entirely wrong given the historical facts, but it may still be a useful way of looking at them.

Ijtihad Among the Medieval Scholars

First, I would like to describe the spirit of ijtihad as it pertains to medieval Muslim scholars. In general, their works express an idea that human knowledge is immediately imperfect, that a single person cannot hope to uncover all the truths of the world or to be correct on all of them. He may have reasoned opinions, indeed his opinions should be reasoned, but they should not be given the status of unquestionable truth. Thus, it was the duty of every scholar to continue to question, analyze, challenge, and build upon the knowledge of the past, not blindly accept it. Several scholars even argued quite positively about the future, saying that each successive generation is in a better position than former ones, because they have the more materials to work with, and hence can come to better, more reasoned arguments regarding nature, philosophy, and religion. But, this required the activity of building upon the past, not accepting it blindly.

This attitude can be seen in a number of thinkers. Imam Malik, for instance, is known for establishing a body of work regarding Islamic law (the Maliki rite). However, he was careful to state that his theories and conclusions might not be all correct or complete, and that anyone who blindly followed them without consulting the original sources and thinking for himself was a fool. Although he stood by his reasoning, he warned his students to not accept his ideas blindly, but to continue to debate and develop their own ideas on the subject. This is also consistent with his reported fondness for debate and dissenting opinions. Imam Malik’s attitude is one I would argue typifies the spirit of ijtihad. Indeed, the other founders of Sunni rites were in agreement on this point. Abu Hanifa is known to have argued in much the same spirit, and ibn Hanbal is perhaps among the best known of the four for his support of ijtihad, both in its legal sense, and seemingly in attitude as well.

Other scholars present a similar attitude, though they dealt in different area. Ibn Zachariyya Al-Razi, for instance, was a ninth century scholar known today for his work in medicine, alchemy (chemistry), and other such areas. Of particular note is his book, Doubts About Galen, he challenges many of that ancient Greek physician, and argued that is Galen were alive, he would approve of Al-Razi’s challenges, because both of them valued knowledge and truth above authority. Indeed, Al-Razi is known for a very positive belief in the future and in successive generations’ ability to improve passed down knowledge. And, his life was characterized by challenging accepted knowledge, even about religion. He even took the radical position of attempting to refute the Qur’an.

Of course, Al-Razi was a fairly unique individual in terms of his radical beliefs (or lack-there-of), but even more moderate scholars expressed similar underlying attitudes. As mentioned in the last essay, both Ibn Khaldun and Al-Ghazali encouraged people to continue to research the sciences and to question passed-down belief. Ibn Khaldun’s works on history were themselves direct challenges to the methodologies and arguments of historians at the time. He took it upon himself almost immediately in the Muqaddimah to attack falsehoods he perceived in historical accounts, and to disparage historians for being satisfied with chronicling events and simply repeating the accounts of past chroniclers. Ibn Khaldun’s work is a pure example of the spirit of ijtihad, and a call for men of reason to think for themselves. To do otherwise, he believed, was erroneous and ignorant.

This spirit of ijtihad, in many ways, was the spirit of the time. Although it is somewhat suspicious that many of these commentators felt it necessary to comment so openly on reason vs. blind imitation (perhaps there indeed was a problem with the latter, and they were the exceptions), it is still clear that much of the great thinkers were also characterized by an attitude of independent reasoning, regardless of whether they were strictly religious, such as ibn Hanbal, or radically irreligious, such as Al-Razi.

Spirit of Taqlid in the Ottoman Era

Generally speaking, this attitude of ijtihad was not to be found among the scholars and jurists of the Ottoman era. No new rites developed, and the metaphysical philosophies were considered finished. This is not to say that the Ottoman Era was one of stagnation. Indeed, the Ottoman government was very dynamic and adaptable, willing to use new technologies (such as gunpowder), new methods of political organization, and so on. Even jurists were at least partially willing to allow for some wiggle room in the interpretation of the law, often based on local custom, interests, and circumstances. But the basic assumption of taqlid was paramount, and the spirit of taqlid took over among the attitudes of the educated, scholarly classes. For every change in Ottoman policy, there was a backlash among court officials who tended to resist change. Eventually, if they did “come around” to a Sultan’s decisions, it was due to obedience to his authority, not from their own originality. These scholars were not interested in questioning or expanding significantly upon the knowledge of the past.

As an excellent example, I would like to refer the reader to the etiquette literature written around the time of 16^th century reform in the Ottoman Empire. At this time, the old order of tax collection and political organization was breaking down. Cavalrymen from the Sultan’s army were initially responsible for collecting taxes in designated areas and provinces. However, the Sultan increasingly needed hard cash (most peasants could only pay in goods) in order to pay his increasingly large corps of Janissaries (elite infantrymen). In order to gain more cash, the Ottoman government instituted a practice known as venality of office. Essentially, this meant that instead of collecting taxes directly, the government would auction off the right to collect taxes in an area for a set period of time, along with selling titles, government positions, and other positions of authority. This gave the Ottoman treasury a nice boost, but also resulted in a number of officials being less than qualified for their positions. Although we know historically that this did not lead to any major collapse within the Empire (indeed, it seems to have worked fairly well), many scholars were incensed by this radical change in political and social organization. Several wrote treatises and tracts decrying the sad state of the Empire, and arguing that this was a sign of its inevitable decline. Many cited Ibn Khaldun’s theories directly in making this argument.

The Ottoman Empire, of course, continued on in prosperity for a number of centuries afterwards, even though many of these scholars saw decline. These scholars might have been partially motivated by the fact that many of them lost their own court positions to people who had more money to buy them away. But, what is important is that their writings express a very significant attitude. Whereas earlier scholars in the spirit of ijtihad implicitly or explicitly expressed a positive outlook for the future, these Ottoman scholars saw only decline and degradation as the inevitable course of history. And, furthermore, they saw change and innovation especially as the source of this decline. To make their arguments, they unquestioningly followed Ibn Khaldun’s theories of circular history, that is that history moves from pre-sedentary to sedentary civilization, the latter of which inevitable declines, and eventually is conquered by another pre-sedentary nomadic group. They never questioned the fact that Ibn Khaldun himself wished people to challenge this element of his theory, and that his real pride was in reorienting historical research towards looking for causes and analyzing contemporary social forms for a better understanding of the past. Ibn Khaldun’s theory itself even expresses an idea that the dynamic element of nomadic groups is part of what gives them strength, whereas sedentary civilizations become too static and used to luxury, unwilling to progress in more noble tasks, and thus leading to a decline. In every way, Ibn Khaldun’s theory and methodology represented the spirit of ijtihad. But, these Ottoman scholars took those theories and unconsciously interpreted them in an erroneous, specifically taqlid kind of way. To them, it wasn’t stagnation that was a sign of decline, but change. It wasn’t useful to look to contemporary social forms (if they did, they would have noticed that venality of office was a very common practice). To them, it was enough to accept whatever observations Ibn Khaldun had made. And, they certainly didn’t look for causes; it was rather enough to simply fit what was happening in the empire into a specific mold, and explain that this is simply how history works. There was no desire to seek change, new ideas, new outlooks on causes, or anything of the sort of spirit which characterized Ibn Khaldun’s writings. Instead, there was a spirit of blind imitation, and the attitude that what there is to know on a subject has already been exhausted by a figure from the past. This is the spirit of taqlid which defined many aspects of the era as it pertains to intellectual matters.

Conclusion:

Thus, the spirit of ijtihad which characterized intellectual activity during the Golden Age was replaced by a spirit of taqlid. Blind obedience won out over independent reasoning. A positive view of the future and successive generations’ ability to improve human knowledge was lost to a deterministic belief in inevitable decline. On this last point, it is worth mentioning also the common belief among scholars of the Ottoman era that past generations were in fact better than successive ones, thus history itself was seen as a process of inexorable decline rather than human advancement. These are the attitudes which characterized the two eras.

By understanding the history in this way, I do not wish the reader to think that the end of the Golden Age has been explained in a cause and effect sort of manner. Rather, my intent is only to draw a useful picture, an interesting perspective on the past, based on a few examples. I wanted to present concepts and a perspective that might shed a new light on modern events. What are these modern events? That will be the topic of my next and final essay.