Long-time readers will remember Seneca III’s reviews of Guillaume Faye’s books (see Part 1, Part 2, Part 3). The essay below by Thomas Bertonneau is a review for Gates of Vienna of Mr. Faye’s latest book.
Guillaume Faye’s Understanding Islam, A Review
by Thomas F. Bertonneau
Guillaume Faye’s Understanding Islam (Arktos 2016) will exercise a compelling power over many readers who, committing themselves to encompassing it, will plough through its nearly three hundred pages in a single sitting. Immensely insightful and quotable, Faye’s book will inform public debate about the place of Islam, if any, in the West, and it will influence the character of Western policy towards the Muslim world; other writers will cite it, and it bids fair to become a standard guide and reference for its topic. Understanding Islam ought to be made mandatory reading for State Department functionaries under the incoming Donald Trump administration — so effective is Faye’s prose in bulldozing through the utopian fantasies and politically correct clichés that encrust Western perception and comprehension of the Mohammedan cult. Best of all would be that Mr. Trump familiarized himself with Faye’s exposition, so as to clarify his good instincts and resolve him to swift action in defense of the North American chapter of Western civilization, as he assumes the presidential office. But that would undoubtedly be asking for too much.
In addition to explaining the desert cult in plain language to his readers, Faye relentlessly exposes Western liberal and multicultural collaboration with Islam, in both the ideological and practical-political domains. Finally, Understanding Islam realistically assesses the strengths and weaknesses of both the West and Dar al Islam in the present state of their fateful clash.
Faye takes as an important recurrent theme in his suite of chapters (six of them — plus a “conclusion”) what one might call the phenomenology of Islam; or, as best it can be reconstructed, Islam as understood from the inside out. From among the ways in which Islam so strongly differs from most if not all other religions, Faye singles out its relentless suppression of subjectivity, hence also of individuality and therefore any possibility of comprehending anything outside itself. Faye brings to bear on Islam the description of a “locked religion” rooted in the believer’s ceaseless incantatory repetition of scriptural formulas whose guiding rule prohibits their interpretation. Repeat, repeat — only repeat. Because Islam emerged in the cultural matrix of a largely oral society, that of the desert-wandering Bedouin of the Arabian Peninsula, its scriptural status requires a descriptive qualification. The Muslim has historically and typically encountered the Koran — the supposed revelation of Allah to Mohammed via the medium of the Archangel Gabriel — in the form of recitation, which he then laboriously memorizes. In certain cases, outside the domain of the Arabic language, the Muslim never even understands the verses that he commits to heart, phoneme by phoneme, but learns of their content through instruction in a local vulgate. Although the literacy of the Muslim world has increased through the centuries, the habit and mentality of oral transmission by rote and repetition still inform the mental cast of that world. This fact has important phenomenological consequences.
Faye writes in Chapter I of Understanding Islam that, in the first place, Islam’s sacred book the Koran corresponds in its disorganization and randomness to no logical or even chronological order. The Koran thus stands in stark contrast to the exposition of Platonic theology in Plato’s Timaeus, the story of the Hebrews in the Old Testament, or the story of Christ in the New Testament. The Koran’s illogicality and arbitrariness reveal, however, the book’s essential character and purpose: To impose on the captive mind a set of dogmatic and totalizing demands that obliterate any nascent sense of individuality or selfhood. While Muslims declare the Koran a perfect text, they nevertheless require a large number of supplementary rules for explaining away its irresolvable contradictoriness. Faye offers as a primary example “the notion of ‘abrogating’ and ‘abrogated’ Suras.” Chronologically later verses of the Koran abrogate or nullify chronologically earlier verses, but difficulties beset the judgment of which verse abrogates another and which stands abrogated, because the Suras obey no consistent temporal precedence. Moreover, the applicability of any Sura is situational. “Depending on the circumstances,” Faye writes, “some Suras apply whereas others do not,” a fact that in his observation “is completely incompatible with the supposed divine and absolute nature” of Islam’s holy book.

In Faye’s view, no active or independent mind could come to terms rationally with the Koran. Rather, acceptance of the Koran by a rational person would require his relinquishment of rationality; the Koran indeed functions as a bludgeon for the suppression of rationality in its nascent state before it can consolidate itself as one of the foundations of genuine subjectivity.
The Koran in Faye’s characterization “targets uneducated and semi-educated populations,” over whom, because it “provides solutions to everything,” it exercises “great appeal.” In a remarkable phrase, Faye describes Koranic instruction as “the ingurgitation of dogmas, rules, rigid prohibitions and mental associations that extirpate every principle of free inquiry… and permeate the mind with the idea that Islam is a revealed and indisputable truth that must be embraced by all of mankind and whose destiny is to dominate the whole planet.” In suppressing rationality and subjectivity, Koranic instruction simultaneously assimilates the pupil to the view of himself as the bearer of a doctrine whose success Allah himself has foreordained. As he submits to Islam, the Muslim nourishes himself on a heady sense of rising in moral stature above the benighted portion of humanity, the Dar al Harb.
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