Taha Abderrahmane’s concept of the awakened youth and the formation of modern Arab Nationhood
Although modern international relations may be dominated by theories and practices of big powers and their societies, it is wrong to think that societies that bear this dominance, directly or indirectly, do not think about or theorize international relations. They do so, though their views may not have a clear impact on real international affairs. Arguably, their focus is internal first: to build functional modern states. The Arab world is an example here. The Arab philosophical tradition does not limit thinking for change to its internal tradition and geography since the globalization of international relations has opened local thinking and rendered its critique national, regional and global. That is why the quest for change in international relations starts by underlining both national and regional differences and, by implication and explication, the local aspirations for global justice in international affairs. This is the general take of Taha Abderrahmane (b. 1944, Morocco), a leading philosopher of language, logic and ethics in the Arab-Islamic world (Hashas, 2014, 2015). Despite his relevance, Abderrahmane has remained unknown and understudied in Euro-American academia.
In the Arab world, in particular, he enjoys the status of a major philosopher, especially that he stands critical of many of his contemporaries, like his two com-patriots who are more known in the “West,” that is the philosophers Mohammed Abed al-Jabri (d. 2010) and Abdallah Laroui (b. 1933). Unlike these two, Taha Abderrahmane started to be more known only during the last two decades. He first came to the Arab public through Masārāt (Trajectories) intellectual TV programme of Aljazeera Channel in Doha in May 2006 in six episodes. He received the Moroccan Writers Award in 1988 and 1995; the Islamic Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization Award in 2006; and King Mohammed VI Award in Islamic Thought in 2014. He was invited by the Ministry of Religious Affairs to give a lecture, during the month of Ramadan Lectures Series of 2006 (known as addurūs al-ḥasaniyya), in front of King Mohammed VI; he was also invited to give a lecture in Carthage Palace in Tunisia “post–Arab Spring” in 2013, in front of the president of Tunisia Mouncef al-Marzouki. During the last three years, three annual conferences have been organized successively in his honour, in Agadir, Marrakesh and al-Jadida in 2014, 2015, and 2016, respectively. Overall, his work is gradually being read and examined during the last few years also outside the Arab world. (Hashas, 2014, 2015).
This chapter focuses on his political philosophy. I synthesize it by taking into account his various works, with a focus on his conceptualization of the requirements for the formation of a modern Arab nation-state.
Because the context of writing this chapter is represented by the events of the so-called Arab Spring or Arab Revolts, I introduce Abderrahmane’s concept of the “awakened youth” (al-futuwwa al-muntafiḍa) as the highest stage of “ethical renewal” in Arab political philosophy. That is, ethics1 become the vital axis on which renewal in the Arab world can be based for the formation of modern nation-states. The concept used to refer to this nation-state is “living nationhood” (al-qawmiyya al-ḥayya). The required renewal is double: philosophical and political. I refer to it as “double awakening.” Based on Abderrahmane’s philosophical framework, and in the light of the ongoing events of the Arab revolts, this chapter argues that the double awakening (philosophical and political) aspired for is in progress, depending on different Arab regions and the potential they have for change. This means that the concept of the “awakened youth” reflects “youth awakenings” that have fuelled the revolts despite the horrific repercussions they have turned into in some countries because of internal and external factors that this chapter does not deal with. The chapter takes the “Moroccan Spring” as an experiment of Abderrahmane’s concepts introduced earlier. The aim is not so much to present an argument but some concepts of political philosophy that can be applied in the study of local Arab social movements and political events. These are concepts that reflect the local tradition, which is grappling with its own history in an age of European modernity and international hegemony over the region.
To explain the concept of the “awakened youth,” I go through a number of stages so as to clearly situate it in the general philosophy of Abderrahmane. I proceed as follows: First, I introduce Abderrahmane’s view of the task of philosophy, or what I refer to here as the “localization” and “politicization” of philosophy. I refer to his ideas of “the Arab right to philosophical difference.” Abderrahmane also theorizes “the Islamic right to intellectual difference,” but here I am more concerned with the Arab right than with the Islamic one – though they intertwine immensely in his project. Second, after emphasizing the need for a “philosophical awakening” (qawma falsafiyya), I move to politicize this call through the need for a “political awakening” (qawma siyyāsiyya).2 I introduce the concept of the “living nationhood” (al-qawmiyya al-ḥayya) as the aspired-for form of a nation-state that is both modern and rooted in Arab (and Islamic) values. I refer to its features and the strategic plans to concretize it. Third, I briefly refer to Islamic ethics as a step towards the realization of the “living nationhood.” Fourth, I introduce the concept of the “awakened youth” (al-futuwa al-muntafiḍa) and its task of endorsing a double awakening, philosophic and political, fuelled with the characteristics of the Arabic living nation and Islamic ethics. Finally, I take the Moroccan context as a case study for closing remarks, where I try to match Abderrahmane’s concepts with the political realities in the country.
Abderrahmane’s language and logical argumentation are unique if compared to the various contemporary Arab-Islamic philosophical projects. His language in particular echoes a classical Arab-Islamic tradition of philosophical writing and argumentation. His expertise in logic and mastery of some European languages that allows his direct access to the original sources of Western philosophical texts renders his Arabic composition (style) and way of coining new terminology an unrivalled project in modern Arab philosophy. Driven by questions of “defeat” after the Six Days War of 1967, the young doctoral graduate of La Sorbonne dwells on revisiting the role of (Arab-Islamic) philosophy for renewal and change.
Abderrahmane develops a new task for philosophy. While the Greeks considered that the task of philosophy is to “raise questions” (Aristotle in focus) and the Europeans considered “criticism” its primal task (Kant in focus), Abderrahmane believes that this age is that of ethical responsibility, so the task of philosophy is to raise a “responsible question” (assu’āl al-mas’ūl). When there is a question, then there is a responsibility that follows to answer it (in Arabic, the move is from assu’āliyya [questioning] to al-mas’ūliyya [responsibility] in philosophy; Abderrahmane, 2002, pp. 13–15). Accordingly, a question receives an ethical dimension through responsibility. If it is posed, it has to be answered, and the feel of responsibility makes the exercise of answering ethical: “Philosophizing without [practical] ethics is null and void” (Abderrahmane, 2002, p. 15).
In so thinking, Abderrahmane is actually corroborating his idea of “praxeology of philosophy” or “the essence of philosophy” (fiqh al-falsafa) that goes beyond the limitations surrounding the cognitive capacities of a particular philosopher. Abderrahmane argues that philosophy as a discipline of inquiry and questioning is a limited one. What seems more open as a discipline is fiqh al-falsafa that could be as expansive and inclusive as usūl al-fiqh (the sources of fiqh). The latter includes disciplines such as language and linguistics, logic and the sciences of tafsir and hadith, among others. In other words, Abderrahmane is regrounding Arab-Islamic philosophy in its “original sources” (al-manhaǧ al -usūlī) for the practice of thought from within, as if going back to the early stage of Arab-Islamic philosophy (Abderrahmane, 1995). He targets what he calls in The Spirit of Modernity “the second birth of the Islamic message” (Abderrahmane, 2006). Without such a renewal, a “second death” – meaning decline/decadence – is possible (Abderrahmane, 2002, p. 8).
Binding philosophy to questions that have to be answered responsibly is the task the Arab (and Muslim) philosopher has to engage with.3 Abderrahmane here calls for prioritizing some questions over others. He wants Arab philosophy to raise questions that concern its current status and needs. He aims at concentrating its energies on questions the Arab philosopher faces and not on questions imposed by the external/hegemonic philosophy of the West and its own questions. The latter has no right to impose its own philosophical issues/questions on the Arab philosopher.
At this point, Abderrahmane weakens two practices that he says many other Arab-Muslim philosophers have fallen into: (1) universal thought (al-fiqr al-wāḥid) and (2) le fait accompli (al-amr al-wāqi‘). For the first, he believes that if philosophy in the past sought convergences among cultures, now the opposite is the case. Against the power of questions raised by hegemonic philosophies – such as that of the West – current philosophy has to seek difference; otherwise, its role of liberating thought and thus its welcoming of criticism and disagreement would die, and all philosophical traditions become the same, raising the same questions imposed by the hegemon. This is against the ideal of philosophy: the liberation of thought. As to le fait accompli, it is much tied to the previous point. Accepting questions raised by a philosophical tradition that is supported by a political-economic hegemon means the intellectual death of other traditions, a death which the “responsible question” and ethical philosophy do not allow. Unitary thought (al-fikr al-wāḥid or attaswiyya athaqāfiyya) is against criticism and difference principles of exercising philosophy, “we, the Arabs, want to be free in our philosophy” (Abderrahmane, 2002, p. 22). It is only when this freedom is granted, and “our particular philosophy” takes shape that “dialogue” can take place. Liberty brings difference, and difference leads to dialogue, and this dialogue is part of the “responsible question” process (Abderrahmane, 2002, p. 22).
The “Arab right to philosophical difference” is a right to liberation from blind imitation (taqlīd) of three philosophical projects: Greekization (attaghrīq), Westernization-Europeanization (attaghrīb) and Judaization (attahwīd). The first project is the Greek one. For example, unlike many contemporary Arab philosophers as well as Orientalists, Abderrahmane considers Ibn Roshd (Averroes) a mere “imitator” – in his own words – of Aristotle. On the other hand, he appreciates the originality of al-Ghazali, who tried to distinguish Islamic philosophy from Greek influence and has been misread as an opponent of reason for that (Abderrahmane, 2003, pp. 119–120).4 Abderrahmane considers al-Jabri’s work another imitation of an imitator of Aristotle – that is al-Jabri is known to be Averroest in his approach of separating but reconciling religion and philosophy; thus, being Averroest means being an imitator, according to Abderrahmane (Abderrahmane, 1994). Also, he considers that the division between reason and religion (or al-‘aql wa al-shar ‘) is a mere Greek philosophical problem that a number of early Islamic philosophers integrated into Arab-Islamic philosophy, either because of imitation or because of mistranslation and inability to find more adequate Arabic terms for Greek philosophical concepts (Abderrahmane, 2002, pp. 135–168).5
As to Westernization-Europeanization (attaghrīb), Abderrahmane is critical of the European appropriation of the Greek heritage and henceforth the monopoly of all philosophy, as if it were only Greek and now only European. Abderrahmane refers to original texts of Heidegger and Husserl, for example, to defend his idea that German philosophy has tried to appropriate European philosophy and claim itself the only or main heir of Greek philosophy. This aspect belittles the idea of the universality of philosophy that this same philosophy claims. Further than that, Abderrahmane argues that the German claim of leading European philosophy has been influenced by Jewish philosophers who have not hidden their Judaic heritage. He refers to the influences of Ibn Maymun (Maimonides) on Leibniz through Nicolas de Cues and the influence of Spinoza and Mendelssohn Moses on Kant. Hegel and Nietzsche note the influence of the Judaic tradition on Kant, too. Succinctly, the Judaic philosophy mediated the Greek philosophy and the German one through its positioning of the “logos” as the mediator between God and man, which Christian theology would integrate by interpreting the Holy Spirit as the “logos.” This philosophical aspect aside, it is the politicization of the Judaic tradition through the search for a geographical place for the materialization of the “promised land” through the Zionist movement which makes German philosophy substantially Judaic. Since German philosophy claims itself in the lead of European philosophy and the heir of Greek philosophy, then the universality aspect it claims is Judaic as well – thus the name “Judaization/attahwīd” (Abderrahmane, 2002, p. 58–65).
The contention here is that (Western) philosophy is first local and national before it is universal; since this is the case, then the right of other traditions to underline local and national concepts in their philosophies becomes a normal philosophical practice; it is only through this local rootedness that concepts can have meaning when they are universalized or when discussed by other philosophies. The argument here is that liberation of thought starts as local thought. If it starts as universal thought, it certainly follows the philosophic guidelines of the universal hegemons; the universal philosophies of hegemons find support in the economic and political influence of the political entities where they flourish. The aim at the end is to shape one’s own modernity, thus Abderrahmane’s idea of “multiple modernities.” If “first modernity” claims to be purely European, why then is this same right of shaping one’s own modernity – through one’s own philosophy – denied to others? A “second modernity” is accordingly not only possible but is required (Hashas, 2014). This is the framework within which Abderrahmane builds his project of renewing Arabic (and Islamic) philosophy and subsequently politics (Abderrahmane, 2006, pp. 11–69).6 What I am then taking from Abderrahmane in this chapter is his localization, henceforth Arabization, of philosophy for political awakening.
Abderrahmane proposes a “living nationhood” (qawmiyya ḥayya), and not nationalism, as the concept around which the Arab world and Arabic speaking nations should develop their own philosophical and, consequently, political independence (Abderrahmane, 2002, pp. 193–203).7 This means that it is only through philosophical renewal that political independence can be achieved:
we have to start to think to philosophize for ourselves, and not for our enemy [that does not allow us to think], so that we can be among the living, and not among the dead; it is not a philosopher he who thinks to extinct himself but he who thinks to live.
(Abderrahmane, 2002, p. 66)
In al-ḥadātha wal muqāwama [Modernity and Resistance] (2007) Abderrahmane defends modernity from within and underlines the ideas of resistance against mimicry and hegemony by means of creativity as a form of living a truly modern life.
The “living nationhood” (al-qawmiyya al-ḥayya) is characterized by three features: standing or rising (al-qiyyām), obligations (al-qiwām) and awakening (al-qawma) (Abderrahmane, 2000, pp. 171–186).8 Rising (al-qiyyām) is rooted in the verb “to stand up” or “to rise up” (qāma). It is based on “movement and work” (al - ḥaraka wa al-‘amal). Therefore, a living nation is that which is constantly dynamic and at work being productive. Obligations (al-qiwām) are the values that make the movement and work reasonable and ethical in their essence. A nation cannot be dynamic and productive unless it has a value system around which it centres its efforts so as to make itself respectable to its own people and to people outside it. These values are “material or civilizational” and thus lead to the construction of a civilization from within this active nation; these material values could be shared by others outside this nation. There are also “spiritual and cultural” values, which colour the nation with a “specificity” as a civilization (Abderrah-mane, 2002, pp. 67–69). The awakening (al-qawma), the most important feature, is a revolution that changes not only the material status quo of a nation but also its spiritual specificity by renewing it. For Abderrahmane, a revolution may stop at the material level and may be violent and cause some damage instead of repair and order. What is required for the ethical productivity of a nation is a “qawma,” an awakening that is especially philosophic-spiritual and that touches the value system of its own people, with the aim of expanding, through philosophical dialogue, these spiritual and ethical values to the world at large (Abderrahmane, 1987, 2005, 2013). The awakening “is the work of jihad and ijtihad” as practiced by all the members of the nation – both jihad and ijtihad here are defined primarily as internal and intellectual exercises practiced to respectively refuse what contradicts the value system of the nation and bring to it what serves it. It is first and foremost a “philosophical awakening” (qawma falsafiyya). Following this philosophical awakening there is a political awakening, which I refer to as qawma siyyāsiyya, though Abderrahmane does not use this linguistic symmetry. He says that the philosophical awakening may melt in abstraction if it does not find (political) bases on the ground – the localization of philosophical responsible questions has to be remembered here (Abderrahmane, 2002, pp. 69–70).
This transformation of philosophical thought into a political one goes through three conceptual stages, which he considers as plans of the awakening (khuṭaṭ or istrātīǧiyāt al-qawmiyya al-ḥayya): resistance (al-muqāwama), evaluation (attaqwīm) and edification (al-iqāma).
Resistance (al-muqāwama) is not only material on the ground in cases of external imperial projects. Rather, the resistance plan is based on the principle of rejecting any imported or foreign philosophical concepts unless they are proved to be compatible with the value system of the living nationhood project (I address later what these basic values are by referring to the intertwining between Arabic living nationhood and his other project of renewing Islamic thought). Even when a new concept seems good, it does not necessarily mean it is compatible with the “difference” principle of Abderrahmane’s project based on ethics. One of the examples of these concepts is the Hegelian concept of “the end of history” (later widespread by Francis Fukuyama). Accepting such a concept simply means the death of Arab-Islamic worldview and other traditions (Abderrahmane, 2002, pp. 70–72).
The evaluation plan/strategy (attaqwīm) is based on the principle of measuring human concepts with the measurement of “higher values” and “lower values” that may be good but endangering of human diversity, dignity and humanness. Evaluation always aims high and does not hasten at calling for, say, ontological and/or epistemological breaks as has done the concept of “modernity” in its European model. For example, European modernity cannot be universal, and thus should be critiqued/evaluated in light of “higher values” that go beyond its limitations. It claims that religion is a problem, that rationality is purely a modern product and that so are liberty and equality. For Abderrahmane, this is just partly true because human history has always lived part and parcel of developments of these values, which European modernity cannot claim to itself. Past civilizations, including the Arab-Islamic one, defended these values, although on different degrees and priorities that each worldview and civilization advances (Abderrahmane, 2002, pp. 73–76).
The edification plan (al-iqāma) is based on the principle that the stages of resistance and evaluation have to culminate in renewal, starting by coining terms and building concepts that the so-called universal philosophy of the West does not provide or allow. Such an edification primarily depends on its natural context, or what he calls the “natural domain,” in forming its concepts and philosophy. In this strategy of edification, the localization and Arabization of philosophy then take their highest forms at the conceptual level, a level much rooted in its context and from which they nourish themselves with responsible questions (Abderrahmane, 2002, pp. 70–79).
It is not possible to speak of philosophic and political awakening in the Arab world without referring to the substantial place given to Islam in Abderrahmane’s project. They (the Arab world and Islam) intertwine to inseparable degrees in his works. What I integrate in this chapter from his work on renewing Islamic thought is his philosophy of ethics. The idea is that Islamic theological and fiqh renewal and Arab philosophical rebirth are bound together by his theory of ethics. Unlike the limitations of Western rationality, in Abderrahmane’s view ethics is the reinvigorating force that nations seeking renewal in the age of modernity need. Since the envisaged ethical norms stem from a world religion that is considered as a continuation of previous revealed religions – and thus, ideally, not in antagonism with the idea of the oneness of God, the ontological freedom of men and their equality at the moment of creation – the Arabs could be among the most fortunate people to build on this ethical message, revealed in their language, and contribute not only to revisiting their tradition but also to the formation of a “second modernity” (ḥadātha thāniyya) and the “coming world” (al-‘ālam al-muntaẓar). In the following, I introduce the general idea of Abderrahmane’s ethics before I link it to the concept I am driving at – the “awakened youth.”
Abderrahmane does not take ethics to be an independent discipline, separate from human existence and his agency or action. According to my reading of his project, his theory is based on an ontological bond among three major components: religion, reason and ethics, seen as inseparable entities. (In a while I will add the fourth entity of “doing/work” as also paramount in his ethical project for a philosophic-political double awakening). I refer first to the bond between religion and ethics, followed by the bond between reason and ethics.
Abderrahmane regrounds Islamic philosophy on an ontological fact he sees has been lost from early Islamic times. This ontological fact is the “original unity” between religion and politics and between this-worldly affairs and other-worldly worlds, which makes religion vital to human life, for religion means ethics, and man without ethics is impossible; that is, there is no man without ethics since it is the latter than distinguish human beings from other existing beings, and gives meaning to life. Abderrahmane argues at length that religion equals ethics: “religion and ethics are one” (Abderrahmane, 2000, p. 52). He does not separate the two. He sees them as one ontological unit: “The existence of man […] does not precede the existence of ethics, but accompanies it” (Abderrahmane, 2000, p. 54). And since religion (and consequently ethics) has existed with the existence of man (Abderrahmane, 2006, p. 25), the following syllogism is reached: there is “no man without ethics, […] no ethics without religion, […] and no man without religion.” (Abderrahmane, 2000, pp. 147–149). Linking ethics to work, he says that “ethics in Islam are the origin of any work” (Abderrahmane, 2006, p. 188). Based on this ethical project, Abderrahmane says that a new “civilization of ethos” is needed; it is the “awaited for civilization” (Abderrahmane, 2000, p. 146).
The same thing applies to reason. Reason is not considered an entity independent from religion and ethics. Abderrahmane divides “rational ability” into three basic levels: “rationality of abstraction,” “rationality of living experience” and “rationality of Sophist belief,” which match three terms: “abstract reason,” “guided reason” and “supported reason.” The “abstract reason” is limited to the description of things, the “guided reason” is devoted to doing things, whereas the “supported reason” represents the capability of knowing their internal identity. “Supported reason” is “expanded reason” (Abderrahmane, 1989). For Abderrahmane, European modernity has not gone beyond the first two levels of reasoning, and Islamic thought has mimicked it and has been unable to overcome it too.
Following the same categorization, Abderrahmane speaks of three levels of ethics. First, by ethics he means “the quest for good per se” (Abderrahmane, 2000, p. 14). It is ethics that distinguishes man from any other species, and not reason. Ethics is the essence of humanness, and without it man is not a human. Ethics, then, has to be entangled with every single act of man, however simple or abstract it may be (Abderrahmane, 2000, p. 157). Abderrahmane refutes theories that say that ethics are part of religion or follow religion or the ones that claim that religion is part of or follows ethics. They are interdependent in the sense that they intertwine inseparably. For him, Greek and European philosophies have idolized reason and have been expressed accordingly. He calls Western civilization a “civilization of wording” (ḥadāratu al-qawl) because according to it man is a speaking animal, and this speaking is the result of his abstract reasoning. As to the theory of ethics he builds, it is part of the Islamic spiritual worldview, which he calls a “civilization of doing” (ḥadāratu al-fi‘l) (Abderrahmane, 2000, pp. 77–78). That is, ethics in Islam is not a different entity that either follows or is followed by religion or reason. Rather, ethics is the equivalent of religion. Religion and ethics are one (Abderrahmane, 2000, p. 157). It is also the equivalent of work, or doing. There is no act that can escape the field of ethics. I will come back to this in subsequent paragraphs, but I first refer to a few major features of Abderrahmane’s theory of “supported ethics” (akhlāq mu’ayyada).
While “abstract ethics” and “guided ethics” match “abstract” and “guided” reason because they (ethics) are broadly seen as separate from religion and reason and, thus, can be applied only partially, Abderrahmane speaks of “supported ethics” (akhlāq mu’ayyada) when he refers to ethics. When he stresses ethics as a theory, he is not just calling for paying more attention to their role in human life. Instead, he is saying that without ethics, there is no man and no innovative and truly human civilization.
I refer to four principles of these ethics to clarify the point. First is the principle of obligation (mabda’ al-īǧāb): ethics in the stage of “supported ethics” are not optional; they are the essence of human identity; without them evil or wrong occurs. Like made law that entails punishment for those who do not follow it, through particular authorities that are agreed on, ethics is also a law that entails punishment for those who do not follow them. The difference between the two is that the punishing authority is oneself; it is spiritual and internal. If it is not visible as a punishment, it does not mean that it is not there, nor does it mean that the committed wrong is not punishable. A consistent person would feel guilty and not at ease with him- or herself. Second is the principle of reproduction (mabda’ attakṯīr): ethics do not have one shape or one form or one place. Rather, they transform their prerequisites according to (1) time, (2) space and (3) the consequences it engenders. An ethicist would always measure the consequences of his or her action and make pursuing the good his or her target. While a good may seem good in some particular time or space, it does not necessarily bring good consequences in that time and space as it may in others. This means that a particular ethical attitude can take many shapes and have different consequences according to the preceding three conditions. Ethics are thus expansive, embracive of time and space and the intellect that balances the consequences. Third is the principle of organization (mabda’ attartīb): ethics are infinite in their scope; the more the ethicist is committed to them, the more ethical attitudes and satisfaction they bring about. As time and space change, so do the consequences. This means that ethics are not of one degree. The fact that they are expansive and inclusive makes them classifiable one on another; each good act brings another when it is measured according to the consequences it brings in different times and spaces. Fourth is the principle of expansion (mabda’ al-ittisā ‘): this makes the ethicist unable to think of an uncovered field where he may be unethical in his behaviour or thought. His or her doing and thought about humanity and the whole cosmos become ethical. Ethics become identical to his or her senses and to his or her being. Without ethics he or she feels life is useless, and only through it is meaning gained (Abderrah-mane, 2000, pp. 81–84).
The preceding principles of supported ethics are based on doing (al-fi‘l). Doing, in turn, is based on three principles that I mention in brief: (1) belief in this value system of ethics (that is inseparable from religion) remains incomplete without living ethics (mabda’ al-ishtigh ā l al mubāshir); (2) the previous principles of reproduction and expansion of ethics mean that the ethicist takes some infinite ideals or attributes of ethics as his guide, and these ideas are the “attributes of the divine” (mabda’ attakhaluq bi aṣifāt al-ḥusnā). Their infinity is the only attribute that can guide the ethicist in his or her path of consistency and ethical perfection and closeness to the ethics of the divine; (3) human beings need concrete examples in their ethical aspirations, and the prophetic example is unrivalled (mabda’ al-iqtidā’ al-ḥay). These principles of ethical doing bring about three consequences: (1) “the feel of happiness” (ashu ‘ur bi assa‘āda) through the liberation from possessiveness and slavery to people and men; (2) “humility” and modesty (annaḏra al-insāniyya) towards the self, others and the cosmos; and (3) “artistic taste” (aḏawq al-ǧamāli) which ethics engender because the happiness they bring render one always appreciative of people and the world; the diversity of the world becomes itself an ethical feature that the ethicist likes to see because it brings him or her joy and makes him or her discover multiple levels of humanness within the self, through training the self to accommodate itself in different times and spaces (Abderrahmane, 2000, pp. 84–89).
In The Spirit of Religion, Abderrahmane says that Western thought has idolized reason (allaha al‘aql) and turned it into a tyrant of modernity (tāghūt al-ḥadātha) (Abderrahmane, 2012, p. 462, n. 21) since it enforces oblivion of the divine (attansiyah or nisyān, or al-insā’) (Abderrahmane, 2012, p. 466). It creates “a world governed by oblivion” (‘ālam nāsī), in opposition to a “contemplative world” (‘ālam dhākir). The former is inhabited by a “horizontal man” who conceives just what he sees, while the latter is inhabited by a “vertical man” who conceives also what he does not see (Abderrahmane, 2012, p. 14). Abderrahmane’s project of “Islamic modernity” uses the same plans, but innovatively, and makes the fusion of ethical reasoning and piety the axis of the project. In so doing, he claims to foster “continuous innovation” that preserves ties with the tradition (ibdā‘mawṣūl), instead of “discontinuous innovation” (ibdā‘mafṣūl) (Abderrahmane, 2006, p. 194).
The point here is that reason is not only an isolated part of the whole entity of man. Reason is not only that mechanical part that is invoked to categorize and differentiate items or components that man needs to analyse. Ordinary reason – or “abstract reason” – stops at this level of mechanical analysis. If European modernity has rationally pigeonholed human action in categories – and has thus led to differentiating morality from actual action, ethics from business, religion from politics, management of the world from the contemplation of the world and so on – the “second modernity” Abderrahmane proposes espouses reason to ethics and the latter to religion. I summarize this in the following format: religion = ethics = reason. The essence of human reasoning becomes religiously ethical. This link among the three is connected to the earlier interpretation that the majority (maturity) of man cannot be universally beneficial to him unless it is tied to the divine attributes of the good. Put differently, the ontological bond between the Creator and Creation, between the divine and the physical world through revelation finds its utmost resonance in man’s testimony to live the trust (amāna) that is fused in his capabilities to act in the world. That is, the natural, or original, trait of the spirit of man is good. Reason, religion or ethics is but a means to activate this good and channel it through for concretization. Religion is the ethical path that rationally seeks the good of man (Abderrahmane, 2000, p. 159). This makes his thesis that there is no ethics without work and vice versa, as further developed in his The Question of Doing (2012b) and The Misery of Secularism: Trusteeship Critique of the Separation of Ethics from Religion (2014). Accordingly, expanding the earlier format to include work is feasible: religion = ethics = reason = work/practice. What could be called “ethical doing,” which is ontologically a feature of the human being in this paradigm of thought, is what builds the human identity of “youth” (al futuwwa), which I position in this line of argumentation of this chapter – leaving critique aside here.
Abderrahmane uses the symbolism of youth to philosophize the political situation in the Arab world. Two points have to be noted before I proceed. First, he takes “youth” (al-futuwwa) to mean the existential highest form of humanity and existence, as if this stage of man is the most relevant in identifying his being and doing in the world. Therefore, “youth” here is seen as the most elevated stage of special cognitive human capacities that are universal and not only Arab-Islamic. Most important, and to connect this concept to his project of philosophical-political renewal and ethics, youth is taken to mean that higher stage where being and doing are inseparable from the format entities I reached earlier: religion = ethics = reason. Second, Abderrahmane seizes the occasion of the Palestinian Intifada of the youth in 1987 to build the concept philosophically politically. He concretizes his concept on the political attitudes of Arab politics towards the Intifada. This concretization helps in clarifying the concept but is not fundamental in this analysis. Rather, I take the concept to the Moroccan current political situation and see how far it can be applied to what is often referred to as “Moroccan exceptionalism.” While Abderrahmane takes the Intifada of 1987 to politicize his concept, I take the Arab Spring events that started in mid-December 2010–January 2011 for my inferences.
Abderrahmane uses the Arabic diction as the linguistic and cognitive container of three stages of “human nature” (al-khā ṣ iyya al-bashariyya) in its development to the highest stage of humanity. This highest stage is called “al futuwwa” (youth), and the three antecedent stages, which are cognitive concepts too, are al-insāniya (humanity), arruǧūla (manhood, which is genderless), and a- murū’a (magnanimity). Succinctly, humanity10 is realized when “supported reason” – the third-highest stage of reasoning – matches the highest stages of ethical doing. Manhood is the upper stage/concept where the ethical characteristics of humanity are accumulated. Magnanimity is the third stage, when manhood ethical characteristics are achieved. Henceforth, the human being (al-insān) is lower in ethical-rational stage compared to man (arraǧul), and the latter, in turn, is lower in ethical-rational capacities compared to the magnanimous (al-mar’; Abderrahmane, 2002, pp. 173–176). If I bring Abderrahmane’s earlier three levels of reasoning faculty that merges ethics (abstract, supported and guided levels), I can say that the human being uses, or is characterized by, abstract reason; man uses or is characterized by guided reason; and the magnanimous uses or is characterized by supported reason. This said, what differentiates “al-futuwwa” (youth) from the previous three stages and concepts?
For Abderrahmane, “youth” is the most elevated sensation of ethics. It is the culmination of the three previous stages. It contains them all and is above them all. It is a metaphor of excellence and perfection on the following three levels: religious, power and doing (or work) perfections. First is religious perfection (kamālu attadayyun): youth is impossible without a religiously ethical message with which, and through which, it strives to develop its natural human features. While the human being (al-insān), as seen earlier, may be the first and lowest stage of rational ethics, youth (al-fatā) excels over the human in religiosity-rationality. While the human being may prioritize or prefer “abstract reason” over ethics and higher values, the youth always matches reason with ethics, which he considers of divine origin. While the human may develop his or her own humanism or humanist trends, the youth always brings forth the ontological bond between the human and the divine (Abderrahmane, 2002, pp. 176–178).
Second is power perfection (kamāl al-quwwa): the youth excels in various types of power manifestations over man (arraǧul). The utmost of these is physical power that goes along the ethical and rational powers. Abderrahmane cites the physical power of prophets as examples, such as the power of Abraham in demolishing pagan statues equipped only with his physique and faith in the ethical message revealed to him. While manhood may last with its ethical traits, its physical powers fade away with time, but youth remains in him despite old age. Still, the youth as a physical stage is better that manhood of old age, because it carries both physical and ethical power, while manhood carries just one (Abderrahmane, 2002, pp. 178–180).
Third is doing or work perfection (kamal al-‘amal): the youth excels in doing good to the extent that he or she exceeds an excellence act with another excellent one, and so on (īthār al-īthār). Consistency in doing excellent deeds and faithfulness to this excellence is what characterizes the youth and makes him or her, consequently, embracive of the characteristics of the magnanimous – the third stage of human nature’s excellence. The youth makes doing (al-‘amal) the spouse of his supported reason and higher ethical values, namely supported ethics. For the youth, there is no work without ethics and no ethics without work (Abderrahmane, 2002, pp. 180–183) – recall Abderrahmane’s previous theory of ethics and the place of practice in it.
Here is the delicate stage: How is it possible to match these theoretical developments (of philosophical awakening) with the real political status quo in the Arab world (for political awakening)? In passing, I refer to the way Abderrahmane matches the “living nationhood” and the “awakened youth” with the Israeli–Arab (or, more narrowly, the Israeli–Palestinian) cause. I underline the previous note that Arab philosophical and political awakening has the right to exist. According to Abderrahmane, the threat to such an existence is philosophical and political external hegemony, led by the West in general and concretized by the Zionist project of Israel, a project that has espoused itself to the Judaic tradition. This note is to emphasize the idea that Abderrahmane is not distancing philosophical engagement from the political one. Without a philosophical project that is local or national, there could be no real political self-determination and realization of the liberation the “awakened youth” aspires to. It is only by understanding this philosophical engagement through “responsible question[s]” that the referred-to concepts can be understood.
Abderrahmane considers four political attitudes of Arabs towards the Intifada of the Palestinian youth. These political attitudes reflect four philosophical-ethical attitudes, and each of them matches one of the concepts referred to earlier. The first attitude towards the Intifada is that of “naturalization” of relations with Israel (attaṭbī‘). According to Abderrahmane’s scale of ethics (abstract, guided and supported ethics – which correspond to the three scales of reason) and the scale of a “living nationhood” (humanity, manhood, magnanimity, and the crowning stage of the awakened youth), the attitude of “naturalization” is the least ethical, least rational, least human and least national because it is defeatist and not liberationist. It accepts, to use an earlier concept used to awaken Arab-Islamic philosophy, the status quo, or ḥaqīqat al-wāqi‘/fait accompli. Since it does accept such a degrading status, then this attitude is neither rationalist nor ethicist nor even humanist in the sense of giving the Intifada youth their basic human freedoms (Abderrahmane, 2002, pp. 183–184).
The second attitude taken by the Arabs towards the Intifada is that of “boycott” (al-muqāta‘a). This attitude is ethically more adequate compared to the previous one. The boycott corresponds to guided ethics and guided reason concepts. It also corresponds to the manhood stage/concept of the “living nationhood” and ethical human nature. The boycotters take only a semi-ethical attitude towards the Intifada and Israeli–Arab conflict, according to Abderrahmane. While they are against the Zionist colonial and degrading expansion in the region, they are, however, not totally against the colonial project as such; the boycotters indirectly recognize the Zionist project and thus indirectly recognize that they remain under its hegemony (Abderrahmane, 2002, pp. 184–185).
The third attitude is that of “rejection” (rafḍ) of the Zionist project. The rejectionists of a colonialist and hegemonic project are the ones that have absorbed the highest stage of human nature in being free and living freely. Their attitude corresponds to the stages of supported ethics and supported reason. They understand that it is only through a liberationist attitude that they can live in peace and construct an independent state, with its own independent philosophical-political references. The rejectionists are magnanimous in their characteristics (Abderrahmane, 2002, pp. 186).
The fourth and final attitude is that of “the youth of the Intifada” who go to the streets and resist also physically the colonialist projects of the Zionist project, according to Abderrahmane. Youth then means “Intifada,” which goes beyond the three previous attitudes of naturalization, boycott and rejection. The youth’s attitude of facing colonialism and all it brings about in terms of restrictions of freedoms, racial discrimination and alienation with their bodies, through martyrdom (al-istishhād) and jihad, correspond to the highest level of ethics and reasoning (supported ethics and supported reason stage), where internal ethics and rational argumentation match doing, or work, on the ground. The youth have seen that naturalization, boycotting or rejection are not enough in facing the colonialist. The callers for the naturalization of relations with a colonial power are considered, in comparison, the least liberationists; on the contrary, they are mimetists and are happy with being followers. The boycotters, on the other hand, have not been able to match their ethics with deeds. The magnanimous are the closest to the attitude of the youth, except that the latter enjoy the three previous excellences: religious, physical and doing (or work) excellences. Youth is then the highest stage of awakening, thus the concept of the “awakened youth.”
What I do in this section is to tentatively read Abderrahmane’s concept of the “awakened youth” in the light of the so-called Arab Spring and, then, take the Moroccan case as an example. Before I do that, I make a few linguistic and political-philosophical notes on the interpretation that follows. First, there is an expression in Arabic that says “someone is in his or her springtime” (huwa/hiya fi rabi‘al-‘umr), which means “he or she is in his or her peak of youth.” I take, then, the “Arab Spring” to linguistically mean the “Arab Youth.”11
Second, because Abderrahmane has moved the term youth (futuwwa, instead of shabāb) from its linguistic domain to that of political philosophy, with an ethical load, I henceforth take the “Arab Youth” to be synonymous with philosophical and political awakenings, thus the possible name of “Arab Awakening” – as Tariq Ramadan calls the revolts, though with a sceptical tone of international conspiracy and doubts of engaged intellectuals.12
Third, as noted earlier, Abderrahmane espouses Arab awakening to the ethical message of Islam. The Prophet Muhammad’s moment was the first realization of the Arab (Islamic) awakening on all levels. Now is the time for a second awakening. Moreover, Abderrahmane considers the Arab-Islamic Renaissance (nahda) of the 19th century a semi-awakening because it focused on the political liberation of most Arab-Islamic lands from European colonialism, and now is the time to complete this awakening through a philosophical awakening, which will materialize itself in full political autonomy again.13 Further than that, Abderrahmane considers that the philosophical projects attempted in the Arab world for the last few decades were/have been mostly unable to build a new philosophical framework and present a thorough critique of the dominant Western philosophy. He presents his project to fill in this gap.
Fourth, and most important, as a continuity to the previous point, I take it that the project of the “awakened youth” is both political and philosophical, and if one of them is achieved or semi-achieved, the rest has to be worked on, and the other fully worked on for completion of this “double awakening,” to call it so. In light of the events of the so-called Arab Spring, I assume, in this chapter, that neither the philosophical nor the political awakening is fully achieved – knowing that measuring philosophical/intellectual awakening is not easy unless it is the manifestation of this awakening in society that can allow a judgement. In the Arab world, these awakenings can be seen to be oscillating between tradition and modernity, between a substantially grounded reform and a gradual reform that appears unable to trace a clear philosophical-political vision or path – though reading such an oscillation as a choice of the peoples in itself may not be a wrong reading of it since societies do not change immediately and since change takes different levels, directions and times according to particular examined fields of social affairs. Henceforth, while I understand and endorse the overall point of Abderrahmane’s philosophical-political awakenings, I consider the concept of the “awakened youth,” a process of reform and not a particular stage per se in Arab philosophical-political awakenings. So, if I use the “awakened youth” as an equivalent to the “Arab Youth” or the “Arab Spring” I mean by that the “Spirit of the Arab Youth” and not its actual manifestation. By this “spirit” (rūḥ) I mean the various philosophical and political projects that this “awakened youth” aim at achieving behind doing this “awakening” (qawma or Intifāda). This “spirit” is the result of the accumulated push factors behind the awakenings. Literally, then, it could also be right to say “the Awakening Youth” instead of, or besides, the (already) “awakened youth” – for the “muntafiḍ” in “al-futuwwa al-muntafiḍa” could be a description of the action as it happens right now or as it happens in a continuous form over a long time. Such an action cannot be void of philosophic-political weight in the Arab context, whose “renaissance-awakening” (in the sense of working for change) has been in process since the 19th century (since the nahda) at least. This is the major point I have been driving at in this piece about the Arab Spring. The second supportive point I have been driving at concerns the Moroccan case and its place in the “awakenings.” I turn now to this point.
Eventually, in this closing section, I use Abderrahmane’s framework to read the stage/place of the “awakened youth” in the Moroccan context. To do this, I refer to Abderrahmane’s views on what he calls the “Moroccan ethicist school,” and second, I use his earlier concepts to broadly evaluate the philosophic-political status of the “Moroccan Spring.” While I use Abderrahmane throughout this chapter to understand the Arab philosophic-political conception of the “living nationhood” and the concept of the “awakened youth,” I underline the idea that the rest are my own inferences and do not necessarily correspond to Abderrahmane’s current views on the status of the “Moroccan Spring.” I start with Abderrahmane’s two further points about the Moroccan ethical school and political ethics, with as few details as possible.
To begin with, in The Arab Right to Philosophical Difference (2006), Abderrahmane shows again his criticism of the Moroccan philosophical trends that he sees as mostly mimetic and less innovative in content and methodology. He is also critical of the influence of the French tradition and language on Moroccan philosophy (Abderrahmane, 2002, pp. 137–168).14 While he acknowledges the “unique” (mutafarrid) and prolific Moroccan contribution to contemporary Arab-Islamic philosophy, he still does not summarize this contribution à la al-Jabri’s “the future can only be Averroest” (Al-Jabri, 1999). To summarize the Moroccan and, more generally, Maghreb’s historical intellectual contribution only in reason as understood by al-Jabri is for Abderrahmane an “intellectual heresy” (bid‘a fiqriyya), because al-Jabri’s reason is but the lowest category of reasoning in Abderrah-mane’s scale – recall abstract (the lowest), then guided and, finally, supported reason stage/category (Abderrahmane, 2000, p. 202).
Besides, Abderrahmane ends his work The Question of Ethics (2000) with reference to the contribution of the Moroccan scholars to the development of an ethical reading of the Islamic tradition. He refers to the Moroccan ethicist scholars who contributed to defending the Egyptian religious and political crises over the centuries. By this example, he defends the Moroccan “exceptional” approach to religion through ethical reason and not only reason or only ethics that is isolated from real life preoccupations. With his example, he refutes the “Jabrist” idea that the Maghreb, and Morocco, in particular, is more rational than the Mashreq, which is illuminist and more influenced by self-centred spirituality and esotericism. He also refutes the idea that it is not true that the Mashreq is the centre, producer and distributor of Arab-Islamic thought, while the Maghreb simply a consumer. Abderrahmane situates the Moroccan scholarly contribution to Arab-Islamic tradition at the “exceptional” level of bringing reason and ethics into communion through what he calls “supported reason” and “supported ethics.” In summary, the Moroccan ethicists are characterized by three main features. One, they connect to inseparable levels ethics and fiqh. Moroccan ethicists are contextualists; they measure human reason with sharia reasoning and consider them as aiming at the same thing and are, consequently, not contradictory. Two, they merge their ethical theories based on their faith with their concrete work, or practice. While they believe, they also work for themselves, as life dictates, instead of being preoccupied with finding God through esotericism and leaving this world uncared for. Three, they dissociate themselves from politicizing religion by turning jihad and da‘wa (proselitization) into a spiritual quest and work for social well-being, in general; jihad has been used in the defence of the territorial sovereignty of the country or Islamic lands when need be, without pushing to make of religion the primal preoccupation of the state affairs as long as the state does not breach the broad ethical premises that the community-society believes in. According to Abderrahmane, the adoption of the Malikite madhab (school of jurisprudence) in Morocco has been influential in shaping “Moroccan culture” (athaqāfa al-maghribiyya) through adapting the religious ethos to reason and context (Abderrahmane, 2000, pp. 200–222).15
Having made these further notes, I now close this chapter with “grounded conclusions” of how to read the Moroccan Spring of 2011, based on Abderrahmane’s framework described earlier. These conclusions I summarize in the following notes.
First, the awakening in the Arab world has to be twofold: philosophical and political. Since the awakening in Morocco is part of the Arab awakening, it has to be both philosophical and political.
Second, philosophical-political awakenings in the Arab world are partially mimetic of Western philosophy and politics, or mimetic of the classical un-renewed Arab-Islamic tradition. Therefore, a modern awakening is not fully achieved yet both in philosophy and in politics. Since Morocco is part of this world, it also suffers from the same shortcoming.
Third, since Moroccan political history and culture enjoy a particular rational and ethical standing within the overall Arab-Islamic tradition, then it is quite possible that Morocco’s awakening could be unique also on the ground, politically. Henceforth, the Moroccan Spring can be unique (mutafarrid) and its “youth awakening” different, something that can be considered “exceptional” in both positive and negative terms (more on Morocco later).
Fourth, since the concept of the “awakened youth” is philosophically and politically the highest (aspired-for) stage of change in the Arab world, and since the Arab Spring current political events are still going on – with various horrendous repercussions, especially in countries such as Iraq, Syria, Libya and Yemen – it means that this stage is not easy to achieve yet, especially in these ruined countries. So, as I have briefly inferred earlier, what the Arab world, and Morocco, in particular, is experiencing is “youth awakening” or the “spirit of the awakened youth” – and this has not reached the stage of the “awakened youth,” in which philosophical and political awakenings are highly independent and successful. Literally put, the concept of the “awakened youth” is still “awakening” – in the sense of “rising up” in defence of a project – and is “evaluating” its achievements since the independence from European colonialism. In this sense, and to apply previous concepts to the current Arab philosophical and political situation (details and exceptions aside), it could be assumed that what has been achieved until now has not crossed the first stages of “living nationhood.” Having resisted direct colonialism, the post-colonial era16 could match the evaluation era in which various attempts to build modern Arab states (“living nationhoods,” to make an inference from the concept of “living nationhood”) have been tried with little success: the Arab Spring comes to revisit and further re-evaluate. Following this assumption, it could be said that the Arab Spring has not entered the third stage of edification and is still working on the “evaluation” stage. Accordingly, the Arab Youth revolts could be better named “youth awakening,” which is, again, assumed to be leading to the mature “awakened youth” stage (recall the three stages of the “living nationhood”: resistance [al - muqāwama], evaluation [attaqwīm] and edification [al-iqāma]).
Five, because of its philosophical exceptionalism through its concepts of “supported ethics” and “supported reason” and because of its fusion of doing/practice with supported ethical reasoning, Moroccan thought, in general, and the Moroccan movement for change, in particular, may, consequently, be read to be politically working on the second strategic plan of “evaluation” (attaqwīm) to enter the “edification” (al-iqāma) third plan that characterizes the “living nationhood” (alqawmiyya al-ḥayya). I mean that it has entered the field of reformation smoothly, differently from the way other Arab states have done or are still trying to do, and the way ahead seems long before it achieves full “living nationhood” characteristics, imbued with the “awakened youth” features. To be more precise, Morocco could be said to be close to the edification stage only since its symptoms of “evaluation” (attaqwīm) are obvious, sometimes called “exceptional.”17 This conclusion is supported by the following political observations (which cannot be detailed here). While I note these observations in the following, I also bring back again some of Abderrahmane’s concepts used earlier as a means of normatively measuring/evaluating the Moroccan case.
Morocco has been receptive of the Arab Youth demonstrations which started in December 2010 in Tunisia. The movement of 20 February in Morocco went to the streets to ask for socio-political reforms on 20 February 2011, and on 9 March, the monarch responded by calling for revising the constitution. This led to the adoption of a new constitution on 1 July through a referendum and legislative elections held on 25 November. About 73% of Moroccans went out and voted in the referendum for the new constitution, which was adopted by 98%. Some fraction of the 20 February movement boycotted the constitution and referendum, and so did the conservative movement Justice and Charity (al-‘adl wal iḥssān), few small parties like The United Left (a- yassār al-muwaḥḥad), and few independent non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and associations of human rights. Overall, nationally, regionally and internationally, the way the state – a state in which the monarch still holds strong powers – has dealt with the Moroccan Spring is considered politically wise, smooth and a sign of will for change and democratization.
However, since the coming of the moderate Islamist Party of Justice and Development (PJD) party to the government, in an alliance with three other parties, political commentators on the Moroccan scene do not show overall satisfaction, neither does the governing coalition and the leading party itself. The PJD leaders would speak of “ghosts” and “crocodiles” in the political system that refuses change and fight of corruption; other leaders in the coalition speak of PJD dominance – or arrogance – in taking decisions in the coalition, while the opposition, made of parties that were in government before the Arab Spring, accuse the PJD of not fulfilling its promises for socio-political change. Independent NGOs, human rights activists, and Amazigh movements also join in the debate and speak of their dissatisfaction with how “things” still are. While they recognize that the Moroccan case is “different” and even better compared with the rest of Arab countries, intellectuals and political analysts still broadly see a lack of philosophic-political vision in the way the country is governed (by the elected government) and ruled-reigned (by the king).18 To put it clearly, there seems to be no clear philosophical grounds for the political reforms Morocco is trying. Political thought in the country seems more adaptive than being innovatively grounded on some clear philosophical tradition (political philosophy in focus) of its own. The reforms the country has been trying are categorized as “exceptional” because they are partially hybrid and vague, which slows down the pace of reform and the development of a modern state, or what has been called here “living nationhood,” with clear philosophical and political aims.
Henceforth, one can say that Moroccan exceptionalism, when both the philosophical and political domains are looked at together at the same time, is still in a transition period. It is in a middle stage between refusing awakening (change) and adopting it according to the weight of diverse stakeholders, some of whom may not be interested in any form of awakening. To apply the (1) three characteristics of “living nationhood” (i.e., [a] rising up [al-iqama], [b] evaluation [al-qiwām] and [c] awakening [al-qawma]), (2) the three stages that precede the “awakened youth” stage (i.e., [a] humanity [al-insāniyya], [b] manhood [arruǧula], and [c] magna-nimity [al-murū’a]) and (3) the rational-ethical three stages required for this awakening (i.e., [a] abstract [muǧarrada], [b] guided [musaddada], and [c] supported [mu’ayyada]), we can conclude, without further elaboration, that (1) when it comes to the features of the modern nation-state (in the sense of “living nationhood”), Morocco is still in the “evaluative stage”; (2) since the rule of law still does not fully reign and accountability measures have not found ways to the political agents, this means that the ethical and rational faculties of these agents are not “supported” nor, maybe even, “guided”; that is, the highest ethical norms that should guide the rational faculty and the agency of the political stakeholders are still missing for the realization of radical and genuine modern reform; the stage of “magnanimity” (al-murū’a) is not reached, and the “awakened youth” who enjoys the three excellences of “religion,” “physical power,” and “work” are not mature; (3) there is no supported ethics in politics, which gives space to corruption (al-fasād), and the latter cannot build a modern nation-state (a “living nation”) that is rationally ethical in its political philosophy. The so-called Moroccan exceptionalism has more “evaluations” to go through before it “edifies” its “exceptional” living nation.
1 I use ethics in both plural and singular form, depending on the context. Its equivalent in Arabic is al akhlaq and al khuluq, respectively. I do the same later with the term youth in “awakened youth” to mean “al futuwwa” (singular) and “al fityān” (plural).
2 While it is Abderrahmane who uses the term philosophical awakening (qawma falsafiyya), I infer the term political awakening (qawma siyyāsiyya) from his argument. I refer to the context of the argument in the following paragraphs.
3 Abderrahmane has separately defended the ideas of the Arab and Islamic rights to philosophical difference but has at the same time built strong ties between them. I reiterate the point that I am more interested in his concept of the Arab renewal, and I refer to his project of Islamic renewal only when need be, as in the case of enriching the concept of “living nationhood” with Islamic ethics.
4 Abderrahmane says that while he agrees with al-Ghazali on many issues, he denies being his follower because of the different reasons that make the two work on these same issues. For example, Abderrahmane says that al-Ghazali integrated Aristotelian logic into Islamic philosophy to defend it, while Abderrahmane does not integrate this logic or European modern ones but develops his logical utensils from various Islamic sciences, like usul al fiqh and language (thus his use of the term fiqh al falsafa, or “the essence of philosophy”). Also, al-Ghazali was critical of the limitations of philosophy, while Abderrahmane not only re-examines the role of philosophy (remember his idea of the “responsible question” in philosophy) but also calls for its awakening for national-political and religious renewal (thus his concepts of “qawma falsafiyya”/“philosophical awakening” and what I have inferred from his diction to be a “qawma siyyāsiyya”/“political awakening”).
5 Part of Abderrahmane’s project is to revive the linguistic ability of Arabic philosophy by means of coining concepts according to its grammatical structures and stylistic diction, and not through mere translations of external or imported concepts. He has devoted a number of books to the issue of translation and philosophy. See, for example, his critique of the dangers Moroccan philosophy has fallen in while mistranslating European philosophy from its (especially German) tradition by going through the French translation to reach the Arabic version.
6 Space limitations do not allow for elaborations on Abderrahmane’s approach to modernity. Summarizing his thought, it is possible to say that he distinguishes between two kinds of modernity as a way to find space for the right of difference to be exercised by Arab-Islamic thought. One is the “essence of modernity,” or the “spirit of modernity” (rūḥu al ḥadātha), and the other is the “fact of modernity” (wāqi‘al ḥadātha). The latter manifests itself in the way it is realized by the West, which can be referred to as European modernity. The “essence of modernity” is based on three principles, and each of them is built on two pillars: (1) the principle of majority (mabda’ arrushd) and its two pillars of autonomy (rukn al istiqlāl) and creativity (rukn al ibdā‘), (2) the principle of criticism (mabda’ annaqd) and its pillars of rationalization (rukn atta‘qīl) and differentiation (rukn attafṣīl or attafrīq) and (3) the principle of universality (mabda’ ashshumūl) and its pillars of extensibility (rukn attawasu‘) and generality (rukn atta‘mīm). The “second modernity” is spiritual, religious friendly, pluralist and friendly to nature.
7 I translate qawmiyya as “nationhood” instead of “nationalism” because Abderrahmane is critical of the latter. The ideology of Arab nationalism of especially the mid-20th century, according to him, has been an imported idea to the Arab conceptual world without criticism and adjustment and without clear “philosophical awakening.” Abderrahmane offers two major criticisms to the failed Arab nationalism project: its focus on ethnicity and lack of focus on the element of language and its failure to make of ethical values its major pillar for genuine renewal.
8 Abderrahmane’s Arabic style is unique. The many new terms he coins oblige the reader who wants to translate him practice the same intellectual processing into the targeted language. The Arab or non-Arab reader who wants to translate him will have to bear in mind Abderrahmane’s translation methodologies for accuracy, to which he has devoted a huge volume: fiqh al falsafa I: al falsafa wa-ttarjama (The Essence of Philosophy – Vol. I: Philosophy and Translation; Abderrahmane, 1995).
9 I am translating the concept of al futuwa al muntafiḍa as “the awakened youth” instead of, say, “the revolting boyhood,” “the revolting youth” or “the rising youth” for three main reasons. First, al fatā in Arabic is closer to the meaning of ash-shāb than to al walad or aṭifl, taking the cognitive as well as the physical features of al-fata that are higher and stronger, respectively. These two features are stressed in the concept of alfutuwwa al-muntafiḍa; attufūla al-muntafida is neither able to “stand up” nor able to “reason” to bring about a philosophical-political awakening. As to ash-shabab al-muntafiḍ, while it may be closer in meaning, the term shāb is mostly a physical feature and not cognitive; thus, it is unable to carry the weight of especially the “philosophical awakening.” Second, Abderrahmane, in a note, prefers the term qawma, which I have translated as “awakening,” to the term revolution, as I have indicated earlier when introducing “qawma /awakening” third strategic plan of the “living nationhood.” I assume that Abderrahmane could have used the term al-futuwwa al-qā’ima, but he seized the occasion of the Palestinian Intifada to use the term al-futuwwa al muntafida, to bring closer philosophy to its “domain” (majāl) of political events, making of the philosopher a local philosopher first. Third, I am using awakening which finds echoes in the Arab-Islamic literature, more than revolution. Since Abderrahmane uses youth as the most elevated stage in human existential being and doing realizations, I have brought to mind the influential text of Hay Ibn Yaqdhān (The Living Son of the Awakened), considered the first Arabic novel and first philosophical novel, as an example of “awakening” that also Abderrahmane would, according to my understanding, envisage for his project. Hay Ibn Yagzan is commonly attributed to Ibn Tufail (d. 1185), but three versions of the work were also composed by Ibn Sina (d. 1037), Shihab Eddine Sohrevardi (d. 1191) and Ala’ Eddine Ibn Annafis (d. 1288). The same text influenced Daniel Defoe to write Robinson Crusoe in 1719. So, the awakening of the youth here is expected to be innovative at the level of the four major components or entities that I have come to see equal in Abderrahmabne’s project: religion, ethics, reason and work/doing. Overall, with these illustrations, I believe I am loyal to both the linguistic and cognitive aspects of the concept and project of “awakening” in my translations.
10 I drop the inverted commas of the used concepts once I assume that the reader has become used to them. I use them again later in the text as a way of emphasis, or as a reminder that they are concepts.
11 This does not distance the content of the “Arab Spring” as a political movement from the historical “Spring of Nations” of 1848, and the “Autumn of Nations” of 1989 in Europe. The point is that while similarities are possible on the socio-political events, this may not necessarily be so on the linguistic terms. The latter may seem superficial differences, but they can be more than linguistic but cognitive. This allows for the study of each historical event in its political context and philosophical background, and with its linguistic equipment as much as possible.
12 Tariq Ramadan, Islam and the Arab Awakening (Oxford: Oxford UP, 2012).
13 I reiterate the fact that the Arab philosophical and political awakening envisaged by Abderrahmane does not totally distance itself from Islamic ethics, where liberty and justice messages are worked out in the ground through doing excellence. Though I have focused on Arab awakening here, I refer to the Islamic one too, when needed, because of its ethical contribution Abderrahmane considers universal and of paramount importance in the renewal of the Arab world that is mostly Muslim by practice or culture or both.
14 Abderrahmane has devoted a long methodological critique of al-Jabri, Averroes and their “mentor” Aristotle, as referred to earlier. The other Moroccan philosophers he refers to in this book without naming them are Mohamed Aziz Lahbabi (d. 1993) and Abdellah Laroui (b. 1933). He indirectly refers to the concept of “Muslim personalism” which is one of the works of Lahbabi and the historicist Marxist approach which is Laroui’s.
15 These three major features are mostly derived from the ethicists that he studies with reference to their impact on the Egyptian political and religious fields over the centuries and in particular periods, especially during the Fatimid caliphate and the time of its decline (r. 909–1171 AD).
16 Arab intellectuals and philosophers question what “post-colonial” means, considering the renewed military presence of external powers in the region. For example, the cause of Israel–Palestine is not solved yet, and it involves directly or indirectly most Arab states, especially the neighbouring ones, which renders speaking of a fully post-colonial region and area not factual. Added to this example is that of the US invasion of Iraq in 2003, the current Russian and Iranian military presence on the Syrian ground, the Arab armies’ intervention in Yemen led by Saudi Arabia and the recent intervention of the Turkish one as well in Kurdish areas of Syria. This blurs the meaning of colonial–postcolonial.
17 It could be interesting to use the various concepts of the “living nationhood” and “awakened youth” and measure accordingly the reaction of both the Arab states and Arab streets to youth protests all over the Arab world. For example, the three concepts used to measure the reactions to the Palestinian Intifada as a moment of “living nationhood” can be applied, with adjustments, to the Arab Spring events, too. To recall some of these adequate concepts, I cite “naturalization,” “boycott,” and “rejection.” Henceforth, some countries would be said to have “naturalized” (i.e. embraced) relations with the Arab young protestants for the sake of change. This naturalization is smoother in Morocco, to which I return, and sophisticated in Tunisia and Egypt – to make general remarks in this limited space. Gulf countries, like Saudi Arabia, may be said to have “boycotted” the youth awakenings through early increases in salaries and promises of further socioeconomic measures that a small fraction of protestant youth and critics of the regime have called for. Algeria may be included in this category of “boycotters” of youth awakenings; it aborted their protests from the first days by giving certain promises, like increases in salaries. As to the cases of Yemen, Libya and Syria, the regimes that have governed these countries for three to four decades strongly “rejected” these protests and faced them with tanks. The damaging outcomes of these “rejections” are still not over yet, seeing the civil wars they have turned into. Following this broad comparative description, a further study can use the three strategic plans of “living nationhood” to measure the level of awakenings in each state and society. These plans, to be recalled, are “resistance,” “evaluation,” and “edification.” The same can be said about the level of “humanness” (humanity, manhood, magnanimity) and “ethics” (abstract, guided and supported) in each political reaction. Such a work could construct a vision of new pathways for Arab political thought post–Arab Spring.
18 While the king, Mohamed VI, enjoys large popularity and respect for his reformist projects since 1999, there is still a large dissatisfaction about the monopoly of the royal palace of the market and strategic decisions and policies in the country. This dissatisfaction, when voiced by political analysts or ordinary citizens, is generally directed to the entourage of the monarch and not to him. This middle position of critiquing the monarchy but not the monarch, per se, stems from the large powers the king still enjoys within the new constitution, which does not make of Morocco neither an absolute monarchy nor a constitutional monarch (or a parliamentary monarchy as Moroccans like to call it). It is this middle position that will still be debated in the coming years while attempts of change keep being introduced on various levels and in different fields. The elected government will always find ways to accuse “invisible players” or “ghosts,” that is the “deep state,” when they face problems in advancing their projects. The monarchy will have to face this critique. For more on the Moroccan new constitution and the debate it has opened up, see for example Belkeziz (2012 a, 2012b), Maghraoui (2011) and Hashas (2013).
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