Some years ago a colleague shared an experience she had visiting archives in an old mosque in Istanbul. The caretaker proudly displayed a very old copy of the Qur’an. “Look,” he said, “other documents in the archive have been destroyed by moths and other vermin, but the animals respect the sacred scripture.”
From a viewpoint of the secular study of religion there is of course no such thing as sacred scriptures, or any sacred objects for that matter. There are only scriptures (and objects) that human beings consider sacred and relate to in diverse ways. Sacredness is invested. It is not inherent. This holds true for sacred books, as well as for any other sacred objects, persons, and places. I personally feel confident that any paper-eating animal, in a carefully controlled experiment, would just as happily consume pages from the Qur’an as any other piece of paper. But the case of humans is different. Humans have a particular capacity, even proclivity, for sacralization; in Durkheimian terms, for setting apart and forbidding certain objects (Durkheim, 1965 [1915], 62). Books appear to be easily sacralized. The question is why.
Introducing the concept of an “iconic dimension,” historian of religion James Watts attempts to capture a particular aspect of the relationship between humans and their sacred scriptures; more specifically “the other” uses of scripture besides those that focus on the content, as a source for information on dogma and ritual (semantic dimension), as part of rituals such as recitation, or as scripts for performance of ritual (both relating to the performative dimension). The iconic dimension covers practices such as when physical copies of texts become objects of special treatment, respect, and awe. It also covers uses of scriptures as icons displayed in public, and as sources of sacred power affecting their surroundings, particularly through providing protection, health, and wellbeing (Watts, 2013b, 14–16).
In Islamic religious tradition, the iconic dimension of the sacred scripture is well established. Most believing Muslims subscribe to the view that the Qur’anic text, at least in Arabic, is the literal word of God, transmitted to humanity through the medium of the Prophet Muhammad (mostly by way of the angel Jibril as an intermediate) The word qur’an means “reading” or rather “recitation,” which relates to the performative dimension. The book is also referred to as kitab, or “that which is written” relating more to its semantic dimension. Yet another term, however, is more connected to the iconic dimension: mushaf. Unlike qur’an and kitab, mushaf, is not mentioned in the text itself. It refers to “that which is between covers,” i.e. the Qur’an as a codex, as a delimited physical object (Motzki, 2001).
Watts claims that the iconic dimension of sacred books is generally understudied (Watts, 2013b,10). This is true also for academic studies of the Qur’an, despite the fact that to the majority of believers the Qur’an is not—at least not in everyday life—primarily a source of information to be directly consulted on matters of beliefs, morals, and law. Few are intimately familiar with its semantic content. For those Muslims who do perform daily rituals and participate in religious gatherings, the performative dimension is more present in everyday life. The iconic dimension, however, is culturally pervasive.
One reason for a (relative) lack of academic interest in the iconic dimension of the Qur’an may be that from the viewpoint of ethnography and historiography there is little to be said besides noting that Muslims treat copies of the Qur’an with reverence, and as sources of divine power, and display them in public, and that they do this because they view the scripture (or rather copies of the text) as “sacred.” This chapter aims to move beyond this descriptive level of how the iconic dimension becomes visible in different context, to an explanatory level of why this dimension occurs at all, and why it takes the forms it takes. This step will be taken with the help of two theoretical tools.
Two of Watts’ remarks on the iconic dimension of scriptures made in passing form the starting point. First, he notes that believers have a tendency to ascribe to scriptures “personas more like people than like books.” Secondly, he draws an analogy to the concept of the “ethos” of a speaker in classical rhetoric. The iconic dimension relates to believers’ views of the “character, uniqueness and inner qualities” of the scripture (Watts, 2013b, 25). These two elements of the iconic dimension correspond well with two basic human mental capacities and proclivities: conceptual blending and psychological essentialism.
The theory of conceptual blending was introduced by cognitive linguists Gilles Fauconnier and Mark Turner (Fauconnier and Turner, 2002; Turner, 2014) The theory is complex in its details, but the basic idea is straightforward. When humans construct, or grasp, new concepts we blend concepts already established in our minds. The blending process, which is more often than not unconscious, involves a selective transfer of properties from what could be termed parent concepts into the new concept: the blend. An example is the mythological concept of a centaur as a blend of a person and a horse. The blend (the centaur) acquires some of its properties from the person concept and some from the horse concept. It is, however, something new altogether: a concept of a “horse-person.” A less obvious example, provided by Turner, is the creation of the concept of another person. This is also a blend: of the perception of the bodily form of another human being and the concept of “I,” as an entity with beliefs, thoughts, feelings, values, and aspirations. The result is a concept of another person with a mind, similar but never identical with one’s own (Turner, 2014, 31–56).
In the following, the concept of the Qur’an as a sacred scripture will be analyzed as a blend on a cultural rather than individual level. Following Watts’ observation, the blend would be one with the parent concepts of 1) an object, an artifact (a book) and 2) a person. Many of the characteristic traits of the iconic dimension of the Qur’an become intelligible from this perspective.
A key assumption in blending theory is that the transfer of properties from source concepts to the blend is selective. In the case of the Qur’an, the sacred scripture retains some of the characteristics of a book. Copies of the Qur’an do not walk around by themselves. Neither do they get hungry. No one attempts to mate with them. Watts’ remark (see above) concerning the “ethos” of the sacred scripture indicates what the property transferred from the person concept might be. Turner, as mentioned, claims that the concept of another person is in itself a blend. What is transferred from the concept of “I” into the blend of another person is the phenomenological experience of an “inner world” (Gärdenfors, 2004, 238) or in colloquial terms a “soul,” “unique character,” or “personality.” This “inner world” is invisible, but nevertheless defines a person, and serves as an explanation for her behavior.
Psychological essentialism denotes an intuitive human reasoning heuristic that is operational in diverse domains of thought. It refers to a belief that objects are what they are because they contain an inherent, generally invisible but nevertheless causally effective, substance. It is important to stress that essentialism here is treated as a psychological phenomenon. Whether or not essences actually exist is beside the point (Gelman, 2003, 8–11). Evidence for psychological essentialism, that it emerges early in children’s development, and that it recurs cross-culturally, is today robust (Gelman, 2003; Haslam, Holland, and Karasawa, 2013). On-going discussions concern which domains essentialism pertains to, cultural variation in essentialist thought, and the different forms essentialism may take when applied in different domains (Bloom, 2010; Gelman, 2013).
The remainder of this essay addresses how conceptual blending and psychological essentialism as theoretical tools can help explain aspects of the iconic dimension of the Qur’an as scripture.
Take good care of the Qur’an. Look at how it is! [the student points to the classroom copy of a paperback English translation of the Qur’an]. The pages are falling out. Take good care of it. It is the word of God, and it is dirty! You will be held responsible if you do not look after the Qur’an.
The words are those of the chairperson at an Islamic club meeting at a high school in Kisumu, Kenya, which were collected during a fieldwork session in 2006. They mirror a commonplace view. According to established tradition, a mushaf should always be treated with respect and protected from contact with polluting persons, contexts, and substances. Several practices within the normative tradition of adab al-Qur’an, or “etiquette with the Qur’an” (al-Nawawi, 2003), concern these two aspects of respect and protection.
According to a well-known narrative, the second caliph ‘Umar was initially a staunch enemy of Muhammad and Islam. With murder in mind, he approached the Prophet’s house. After a row with his sister, who had converted, he asked her to give him a page from the Qur’an to read. She refused because she considered him to be ritually impure. Only after washing himself was he allowed to touch the page and read the words. He was then overwhelmed and converted on the spot. Whether or not this narrative reflects an actual historical event is impossible to ascertain. It does however reflect a view that being in a state of ritual purity is a prerequisite for touching the physical text (Zadeh, 2009, 445–446). Muslim exegetical tradition usually connects this to verses 56:77–79: “That this is indeed a Qur’an most honorable. In a book [kitab] well-guarded, which none shall touch but those who are clean [mutahharun].”1 The centrality of this norm is indicated by the historical practice of writing this particular verse on the protective cover of mushafs (Arabic plur. masahif) (Deroche, 2009, 179).
There is a longstanding discussion and parting of views among Muslim religious scholars regarding what exactly constitutes the object that should be protected and respected: the book containing the word of God, i.e. the mushaf, the word of God itself, i.e. the text contained in the mushaf, or both. How should one treat textual excerpts from the Qur’an appearing, for example, in other books as ornamentations or as bumper stickers? Do excerpts merit the same respect and protection as do mushafs? I will return to this issue later in this essay. For now, however, I will focus on mushafs as delimited material objects.
The dominant view is that touching a mushaf demands that a person is in state of ritual purity (tahara). Women who are menstruating, for example, are not allowed to touch a mushaf. Copies of the Qur’an should also be protected from coming into contact with polluting substances and objects, specified as najis, such as blood, alcohol, urine, feces, and saliva. A person reading the Qur’an should not lick her fingers in order to facilitate turning the pages.
The substances and objects from which the mushaf should be protected are ones that also render Muslims, i.e. persons, ritually impure. This supports the suggestion of a blending process, but at the same time points to its selective character. There is a conspicuous lack of information in the normative literature on what should be done if the Qur’an actually comes into contact with impurity. Unlike in the case of a person, there are no specified cleansing rituals to be performed and there is no mention of the mushaf itself entering a state of impurity through contact with impure objects or substances. I will return to this difference.
According to the dominant normative tradition, a mushaf should be kept in a place of honor. It should not be placed underneath other books in a pile, but always on top. When read from, it should be placed on a small stool (kursi). It should never be used as a pillow or put on the ground. Some traditions recommend showing respect to the artifact by kissing it (taqbil) (Meri, 2001). There is a long-standing practice of beautifying the covers of mushafs with ornamentations, often in gold or silver (Deroche, 2009, 175).
These practices indicate emotions such as love, affection, respect, and even adoration directed at the scripture. The emotions directed to scripture are analogous to those occurring in interpersonal relationships, which lends support to the suggestion of a blending process. Further support comes from the treatment of a mushaf that is no longer fit for use because it has been damaged in some way (Svensson, 2010). One of the methods more commonly cited in the normative discourse merits attention: a worn-out copy should be respectfully buried, preferably on a Muslim burial ground, wrapped in a funeral shroud, and placed in a grave niche in the direction of the holy city of Makkah, i.e. in a manner directly analogous to the burial of a Muslim person.
Although the examples above fit with the suggestion of a book-person blend, there is yet another that is even more telling. Recent years have witnessed several instances of peaceful as well as violent Muslim protests against actual or rumored desecrations of copies of the Qur’an, performed by anti-Muslim, anti-Islamic activists.2 Anyone with access to the Internet can find multiple examples of texts, photos, and videos featuring Qur’an desecration.
Desecration is an interesting phenomenon because there are few indications that desecrators are familiar with the long tradition of “etiquette with the Qur’an” or of Islam in general as a religious tradition. How, then, do desecrators know what to do? A possible answer is that the diverse actions suggested or actually performed—such as using a piece of bacon as a bookmark, using the Qur’an for target practice, ejaculating, urinating, or defecating on a mushaf—are not based on knowledge about Muslim exegetical traditions but are the result of inferences drawn from a book-person blend that makes cross-cultural understanding (although not respect) possible. Desecrators do not have to study Islam to figure out that using a mushaf for target practice will upset Muslims. Acts of desecration have one thing in common: they would all be considered acts of violence and humiliation if they were directed at a person.
Research on psychological essentialism has long focused on the domain of “folk-biology.” Human beings in diverse cultural contexts, as well as small children, categorize living creatures on the basis of assumed shared, invisible properties with causal effects. A cat is a cat because of an inner “catness,” which also explains particular “cat behavior.” Even if that cat is surgically transformed so that in all appearances it resembles a dog, it is still a cat and will act as a cat. The invisible inner “stuff,” the essence, that defines membership, is intuitively construed as transferrable through procreation. Cats, even surgically transformed ones, give birth to kittens, not puppies.
However, as research has progressed during the last 25 years, suggestions have been made that psychological essentialism as an intuitive reasoning heuristic is operational in other domains besides folk-biology. On the far end of the spectrum, and in line with the suggestion above concerning the selective transfer of properties into the book-person blend, psychologist Paul Bloom claims that humans use a form of psychological essentialism in every day reasoning about individual uniqueness. An individual is who she is not because of her outer appearances or behavior (i.e. observable traits) but because of an unobservable inner “something.” He terms this particular form of psychological essentialism “life-force essentialism” (Bloom, 2010, p. 20).
It could then be suggested that it is this notion of life-force essence that is transferred into the book-person blend. According to Fauconnier and Turner, a blend is made possible because of a “mapping” between similar elements in the parent concepts (Fauconnier and Turner, 2002, 39–44). Like a person, the Qur’an has an outside, an outer appearance, and an inside of thoughts, beliefs, intentions, etc. The latter is analogous to the inner world of a person (with one important difference to be discussed below).
However, there are some problems with this model. Bloom’s life-force essentialism does not fit perfectly with Muslim conceptions of the Qur’an as a sacred scripture. Strictly speaking, there is no one, unique Qur’an that is considered sacred. Individual copies of the Qur’an, mushafs, are not objects set apart because of their individual uniqueness. Rather they are special because they belong to a particular category of books. Hence, if there is a conceptual blend underlying the iconic dimension, that blend is not of an individual person and an individual book. It is of an individual person belonging to a particular group, and an individual book belonging to a particular category of books. This merits turning to psychological essentialism in another domain: groups and group belonging.
The question of how individual mushafs are related to the less concrete notion of the Qur’an as the revealed word of God has been the object of much discussion, not always converging, in Islamic theological tradition (Madigan, 2001b). Two references in the text itself have been important here: to the “preserved tablet,” al-lahw al-mahfuz (85:22) and to “the mother of the book,” umm al-kitab (13:39). There is no theological consensus on what these verses mean. One line of thought is that the reference is to a heavenly prototype for earthly Qur’ans, an idea that establishes a link between the divine word and individual mushafs as physical objects (Madigan, 2001a). The employment of a metaphor of motherhood is telling, if one subscribes to the view that metaphors reveal underlying structures of thought (Lakoff and Johnson, 2003). Essence transfer through procreation is a central intuitive assumption in psychological essentialism in the social domain. While descendants of a person are not identical to that person, nor to one another, the intuitive bias is that they all partake in something “shared,” albeit to different degrees. This shared “stuff” unites them into a group and forms part of their individual, unique essences (Gelman and Hirschfeld, 1999, 409). It is quite possible, even likely, that the “mother of the book” in the Qur’anic text originally referred to something other than the relationship between individual mushafs and a heavenly prototype (Madigan, 2001a). The very fact that the latter over time became established as an important cultural interpretation, however, points to a possible application of psychological essentialism in the social domain to the Qur’an, which is, in line with the overall argument of iconicity as the result of a book-person blend.
While humans intuitively use information on common descent (kinship) to categorize persons into social groups, this is by no means the only information that matters. Research into responses to different cues in this context, and the relative strength of these cues, can shed further light on peculiarities of the iconic dimension of the Qur’an.
Anthropologist Natalia K. Suit reports an incident from fieldwork in Egypt. She visited the library Dar al-kutub (“the abode of books”) in Cairo, where very old mushafs were stored. She observed that mushafs that differed in size, design, style of script and layout from Qur’an copies otherwise in circulation were not handled according to established norms of protection and respect. They were allowed to collect dirt and dust, were flipped through apparently without any consideration for ritual purity, with soiled, saliva-moistened fingers, and were stored seemingly without any consideration for their venerable placement (Suit, 2013, 193–194). Suit’s observation suggests that appearance matters, as it does in human social categorization. Human beings routinely and intuitively interpret physical appearance, both in terms of phenotypical traits (e.g., skin color) and cultural markers such as clothing and badges as cues for social belonging. However, appearance is not everything, neither in social categorization nor, it appears, in the context of the iconic dimension of the Qur’an.
Research in the field of social psychology indicates that shared language (including dialects or accents) is one of the more powerful cues used in social categorization, and that it often trumps physical appearance (Greene, 2013, 52–53; Henrich, 2016, 201–202; Kinzler et al, 2009). From this perspective, it becomes quite understandable that mushafs containing the Arabic text are, in general, considered more sacred than translations, and that those containing both the Arabic text and a translation (which is common in printed Qur’ans today) are considered more sacred than those containing only the translation. Even so, it remains the general view that translations do merit respect as well.
Translations into languages other than Arabic have not always been looked upon favorably within the theological tradition (Bobzin, 2001). There has been a strong notion of the “inimitability,” i’jaz, of the text as the literal word of God. A translation can at most be an imperfect interpretation of the original text, hence titles such as “The meaning of the Holy Qur’an” are used for translations. The question arises therefore: Why is the sacred character of translations even considered? Psychological essentialism can again provide an answer.
The underlying reason why kinship, appearance, and language function as cues in social categorization, according to some theories, is because they are interpreted as signals of shared inner worlds. Human beings who are related, look alike, or speak alike have a better than chance probability of also thinking and feeling alike (Henrich and Henrich, 2007, 72–74). Research indicates that information on overlaps in inner worlds (beliefs, aesthetic preferences, values) trumps language and appearance in social categorization (Launay and Dunbar, 2015). Hence, even though the language may differ between an Arabic version of the Qur’an and a translation, there is an implicit notion that the meaning (the inner world or essence) is somewhat shared. It is reasonable to assume that this affects views on a translation’s semi-sacred character.
It is important to note a possible difference between assumptions of an essence uniting members of a social group and an essence uniting copies of the Qur’an. In the former case, the assumed essence is invisible. In the latter case, it could be viewed as directly accessible: it is the text. Such a difference may provide the solution to the puzzle above, i.e. that copies of the Qur’an should be protected from objects and substances that are ritually polluting for persons, but that if the copies do come into contact with such objects and substances, there are no purification rituals to be performed. Pollution of persons changes their essence, and purification rituals can be seen as a means for restoration of that essence. In the case of the Qur’an, no actual change of essence (the text) occurs, and hence no ritual for the restoration of purity is necessary.
A connection between the sacredness of a mushaf and its content in terms of text may also help explain ways of disposing of mushafs, besides the one mentioned above (respectful burial). Immersion in running water, dissolving the text, carefully erasing the text or (less common) shredding the text in a paper shredder are all practices that share one feature: they involve removing the text, the essence, which also changes the sacred character of the book. Here, it is relevant to note a controversial way of disposal: burning. Scholars disagree whether it is legitimate to burn worn-out mushafs. Those scholars who accept it cite the example of the third caliph ‘Uthman who, according to tradition, collected different versions of the Qur’an in circulation in the middle of the 7th century and burned all save one, which became the standard text. Those who are against the practice refer to burning as a hostile and violent act, which fits well with the suggestion made in connection with desecration above. Nonetheless, ‘Uthman burned Qur’ans that were textually flawed, and hence not “real” Qur’ans, at least not essentially so (Svensson, 2010, 42–43).
If, as suggested, the assumed meaning of the text also matters, there are implications. One could expect differences in the level of sacredness depending on the translator. An empirically testable prediction would be that a Qur’anic translation by a devout Muslim would be considered more sacred than one by a non-Muslim. Similarly, the majority could be expected to question the sacred character of a translation produced by a sectarian minority group, such as for example the Ahmadiyya, a missionary movement established in late 19th century India which most other Muslims consider heretical given the founder’s claim to be a prophet. Ahmadi Muslims are famous for their extensive translation and distribution of the Qur’anic text.
After the terrorist attack in Paris in 2015, the search for the culprits identified a Belgian “mastermind,” Abdelhamid Abaaoud. He clearly had connections to the terrorist movement Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (ISIL). In one of the photos circulating in the press, he is shown holding the ISIL flag in one hand, and in the other, a copy of the Qur’an. In the literature of the iconic dimension of sacred book, this manner of public display of scriptures has been noted. The standard interpretation is of a symbolic claim to some form of authority and legitimacy (Watts, 2013b, 22–23). While there is little reason to question this interpretation of the function of such public display of the Qur’an, there is still room for investigating the mechanisms behind that function.
Posing with the Qur’an is a display of physical proximity. Following the suggestions that the iconic dimension of the Qur’an is a result of a book-person blend, it is reasonable to look for analogies in social relations. According to research on “prestige psychology” (Henrich and Gil-White, 2001), humans are drawn to persons who, for various reasons, have social prestige. We seek the proximity of such individuals even at large costs (in terms of resources and time). Prestige also has a tendency to rub off, onto humans and onto objects, which is evident in “celebrity endorsements” used in advertising, where displaying famous persons in the proximity of a product will enhance the sales of that product (Bergkvist and Zhou, 2016).
Anthropologists Joseph Henrich and Francis Gil-White connect prestige psychology to the unrivalled capacity in our species for social learning. We constantly, and unconsciously, search for other humans to learn from (models), and seek their proximity in order to enhance the quality of such learning. Proximity enables “infocopying,” which entails not only emulation of the model’s outer behavior but also simulation of her mind, i.e. of presumed information in her inner world. This is mostly an unconscious act. We react to signals indicating a successful model with emotions—love, affection, admiration, adoration—that prompt forms of behavior enhancing the quality of infocopying. A possible conclusion, not drawn by Henrich and Gil-White, is that proximity to an established prestigious individual may lead to what can be termed as secondary prestige. X becomes prestigious because X has been in the proximity of (and is assumed to have successfully infocopied) the prestigious model Y. Y’s prestige rubs off on X. I have discussed this elsewhere, in the context of prestige-based authority in Islam (Svensson, 2015, 194–254).
If the sacred status of mushafs is a result of a book-person blend, and if there is a selective transfer where the text becomes the equivalent of the inner world of a person, then the practice of individuals claiming authority and legitimacy through the public display of proximity to mushafs becomes intelligible. It is an exploitation of basic human prestige psychology, a by-product of human social cognition. Some additional facts support this view. Several of the behaviors directed at models that Henrich and Gil-White discuss in the context of prestige psychology are analogous to what has already been mentioned in the context of “etiquette with the Qur’an”: the book should be treated with respect and love, protected, elevated, and above all, deferred to. Furthermore, there is the additional devotional practice of “gazing at the Qur’an” to consider (McAuliffe, 2009, 410–411; Suit, 2013, 197), as well as the fact that mushafs are a recurring theme in representative art, on posters, on stickers, on jewelry, and even as statues. Heinrich and Gil-White note that prestigious persons are the focus of intense gazing, and that this can be explained as a human behavior that has been selected for because it has enhanced the quality of infocopying. A corresponding behavior towards the Qur’an could thus be understood as a cultural exploitation of this proclivity.
The view that the Qur’an, both as recited and written text, can transmit baraka, “blessings” is well established in Islamic tradition (Zadeh, 2008). Such blessings have concrete effects primarily on health, well-being, and prosperity. Baraka may emanate from mushafs, which can be seen for example in the popularity of portable miniature Qur’ans. However, when it comes to this aspect of the iconic dimension, the bulk of examples relate to its inside.
All around the Muslim world and throughout history there are examples of uses of the Qur’anic text that may be described as talismanic. Plates and cups can be ornamented with verses from the Qur’an, which are thought to transfer baraka to the food and drink served on and in them. Qur’anic verses may be sown on the inside of clothes, to be constantly in touch with the skin. One of the more widespread practices is the use of verses from the Qur’an as the potent ingredient in the making of amulets (Meri, 2001). The practice of “drinking the Qur’an,” i.e. dissolving copied text from the Qur’an in water and then ingesting the water, occurs in different Muslim contexts around the world and has a long history (Wilkens, 2013; Zadeh, 2009).
A first step in explaining these phenomena in line with the current theoretical framework is to search for analogies in the domain of human social interaction. Bloom notes that one of the characteristics of life-force essentialism is that it is construed as contagious, i.e. transmittable through physical contact, between persons and between persons and objects (Bloom, 2010, 20–22). This is why, for example, an original piece of art may be worth a fortune, while an identical copy is worthless. The two carry different essences because of different physical relationships to the artist. Another example is the phenomenon of “celebrity memorabilia,” i.e. individuals ascribe value to quite ordinary objects only because they have belonged to, or rather have been touched by, famous, admired, or loved individuals. Experimental research has concluded that underlying perceptions of essence transfer are the most likely explanation (Newman, Diesendruck, and Bloom, 2011). A scholar within the field of religious studies will of course recognize the parallel with the phenomenon of relics, which are found also in Islamic tradition (Meri, 2010).
The suggestion of a book-person blending process, and an identification of life-force essence (in the case of a person) with text (in the case of the mushaf) fits well with this aspect of the iconic dimension. The mushaf, as the human body, may be a carrier of baraka, but the potent “stuff” is the text, like the life-force essence of a person, which, however, is invisible.
As mentioned above, the occurrence of text outside of the mushaf, for example as parts of other texts, as ornamentation or as ingredient in talismans, amulets, or elixirs, has prompted serious reflection on the part of religious scholars from the earliest period up to contemporary times, particularly in connection with rules of respect and protection and ways of disposal. Some have concluded that the same rules that apply to mushafs apply equally to excerpts from the Qur’an appearing in any other context. Others have made distinctions, at times with extensive arguments (Svensson, 2010, 44–48). Noteworthy is not the content of the diverse views but rather the very fact that there is diversity. A common explanation for rules on respect and protection of the Qur’an among Muslims is that they are founded in established cultural beliefs on the sacredness of the word of God as such. The noted diversity appears to contradict this view. More conspicuously, everyday practice indicates that believers do make a distinction between the Qur’an as a codex and Qur’anic text occurring outside of the codex, i.e. textual excerpts, particularly concerning rules of purity. When Qur’anic verses are swallowed, embroidered on the inside of clothes, or used as everyday adornment in diverse contexts, for example, on almanacs, as graffiti on walls, on bumper stickers, or as quotations in newspapers, then the rules of respect and protection that apply to mushafs appear less of a concern (Suit, 2013, 203). In light of this essay’s theoretical framework, these apparent contradictions and ambiguities become less of a puzzle. Excerpts are not in themselves “personified.” They are rather the equivalent of a person’s life-force essence outside the boundaries of the body.
I have proposed in this essay a new explanatory framework with which to approach the iconic dimension of the Qur’an. A reasonable question is: For what purpose? Is it not enough merely to describe and systematize the Qur’an’s iconic features, note changes over time, and relate these findings to “cultural beliefs,” i.e. beliefs that are metaphorically shared by humans in a given population present or past, beliefs that we should aspire to understand as thoroughly as possible? What is the need for digging deeper into the psychological underpinnings of those beliefs?
I do not question the value of ethnographic and historical research into the iconic dimension of the Qur’an as scripture, but I believe there remains to ask the question “why?” in a manner that goes deeper, for several reasons.
One is integration. The theoretical framework suggested here enables connecting diverse phenomena that previous research has discussed as quite separate, but in some way interconnected, examples of the iconic dimension of the Qur’an. What the framework does is to confirm the interconnectedness, to provide a basis for it and to integrate it into a wider theoretical framework developed by researchers in fields other than the study of religions, ethnography, or history. James Watts has noted an apparent “personification” of scriptures as central to the iconic dimension. Blending theory, in combination with research on psychological essentialism, can provide theoretical support for that observation.
Reference to cultural beliefs as explanations for the diverse aspects of the iconic dimension has its limitations. There is no cultural consensus and often a lack of one-to-one mapping between verbalized norms concerning how to handle the mushaf and actual practices. Some of the ambiguities outlined above, which are difficult to explain from the perspective of cultural beliefs, become less so within the proposed framework. Why, for example, is there so much stress on protecting the mushaf from coming into contact with impurity but so little attention to the consequences and ritual repair of such contact? How is it that desecrators of the Qur’an, without detailed knowledge of Muslim cultural beliefs, can come up with new, innovative ways of desecration that Muslims will interpret in the intended way? Why do rules of respect and protection towards a mushaf cease to apply if it is deprived of its textual content (if the text “between the covers” is erased)? Why, on the other hand, are Qur’anic textual excerpts found outside of the mushaf not, at least not intuitively, viewed as something to which the same rules of respect and protection apply?
Another reason why a search for an underlying psychological infrastructure behind the iconic dimension of the Qur’an is relevant is that it provides a starting point for comparison, not only with beliefs and practices in other religious traditions that harbor the notion of sacred scriptures, but also with sacred objects in general. The comparative research field of the iconic dimension of religious scriptures is new, but already at this point it is possible to identify noteworthy cross-religious similarities that call for cross-religious explanations (Myrvold, 2010; Watts, 2013a). The similarities between practices and beliefs pertaining to the iconic dimension of sacred books and those pertaining to other sacred objects suggest that a hypothesis of an object-person blending process combined with theories of psychological essentialism may be of wider relevance. Perhaps books as artifacts, with the clear demarcation between an outside and an inside, the latter containing thoughts, beliefs, values etc., make humans particularly prone to making an object-person blend. This could explain why some of us have problems, for example, with throwing away, or destroying books that we have read and will never read again, even bad ones, and why a few of us display such interesting psychological conditions as bibliomania, bibliophagy, and bibliomancy also outside of religious contexts.