Templeton-Cambridge Journalism Fellowships in Science & Religion

Science and Islam in the 21st Century

"Muslim" does not automatically mean terrorist.

by Ehsan Masood

Two years after the twin towers fell, a small and disparate movement began that wanted to show the English-speaking world that "Muslim" does not automatically mean terrorist.

I was among those who wanted to balance the relentless images of news footage on our TV screens in which men, women and children from Islamic communities are regularly portrayed next to shots of war, violence and terrorism. Some Muslims are in prison for plotting to blow up airliners, and more will follow them. But many more will never see the inside of a police cell and, like all communities, they live both ordinary and extraordinary lives.

Recent initiatives from the arts and sciences have attempted to document some of those lives. The Festival of Muslim Cultures, a year-long extravaganza of events across the UK, was aimed at showing how creative innovation is central to the British Islamic landscape. In 2006 the Museum of Science & Industry in Manchester opened its doors to 1001 Inventions, an exhibition showcasing leading-edge scientific discoveries from the Middle Ages. This exhibition has since toured the world and will open at the Science Museum in London next week. The BBC created a landmark TV and radio series called Science and Islam, written and presented by Professor Jim Al-Khalili of the University of Surrey. And there have been landmark books, including Jonathan Lyons’ The House of Wisdom: How the Arabs Transformed Western Civilization and the historian George Saliba’s Islamic Science and the Making of the European Renaissance.

Many of these activities are designed to fill in what the University of Manchester scientist and historian Salim Al-Hassani calls "missing history"— the often remarkable stories of discovery and invention; arguments about science and religion; colourful characters; and dazzling gadgetry during a mini scientific renaissance that lasted from the 8th to the 15th centuries, a time when Islam’s many empires were at their peak. Non-Western cultures contributed a huge amount to science and technology.

What are these contributions? Indian numerals, the decimal place, algebra; as well as developments in astronomy, optics, chemistry, surgery, the organisation of healthcare and higher education; even toy-making. These and more have come to us via Latin translations of Sanskrit, Arabic and Persian manuscripts. One Arabic medical textbook called The Canon of Medicine was taught to medical students in Europe’s elite universities for five centuries until the late 1600s. One of the most remarkable of the many technologies that will be displayed at the Science Museum is an early clock shaped like an elephant that uses water pressure to tell the time. It was designed by al-Jazari, a Turkish engineer from the early 13th century.

Not all the leading scientists of the day were part of the religious mainstream — and some could even be said today to be sceptical. However, what is not in doubt is that the demands of religion were among the driving forces behind scientific discovery during the Islamic Age. This was particularly the case in astronomy. Mosques, for example, employed amateur astronomers whose job included being able to compute accurate tables for times of prayers. One of the most celebrated of the mosque-based astronomers is Ibn al-Shatir, who worked in the Great Mosque in Damascus in the 15th century — his sundial can still be seen by visitors.

Another example of how faith influenced discovery can be seen in the work of the mathematician Musa al-Khwarizmi. He was a kind of chief scientific adviser to al-Mamun, the ruler of one of the earliest Islamic empires, based in Baghdad in the early 9th century. According to one story, al-Mamun commissioned his adviser to think of a neat way to calculate inheritance values, because Islamic rules on inheritance are anything but straightforward. Al-Khwarizmi suggested that inheritance formulae could be described using equations and set these out in a chapter of his signature book on algebra, Kitab al-jabr, or the book of algebra.

The 1001 Inventions exhibition — and the recent books and other events — emerges from a desire to convey a more rounded picture of Muslim cultures, ancient and modern; and to reinforce the idea that societies that embrace diverse ways of looking at the world are often the most innovative, exciting and forward-thinking places to live in.

On many levels, the sum of these parts has been a big success. But at the same time, in one crucial aspect, we have failed. Throughout Europe, small but significant numbers of people continue to believe that Muslims are members of a barbaric sect that oppresses women and children and refuses to live in the modern world. And it appears that the numbers of people who think this way could be increasing. At the very least, their voices are becoming more influential. Since 2005, members of the UK far Right have been elected to the European Parliament; across Europe, public opposition to mosque-building is getting louder.

Acknowledging the role of Muslim cultures to the making of the modern world is an important thing to do, but it is clear that this is not going to convince the sceptics. To do this we need to find another way.

Last year the British Council began a programme of activities — called Our Shared Europe — to highlight Islamic contributions to Europe (past and present). Its aim is to strengthen the trust between Europe’s Muslim communities and wider society. Research to measure how sceptical audiences in EU member states might react to such a programme revealed that a straightforward portrayal of Islamic contributions to Europe was by itself not sufficient in hacking through the walls of mistrust.

A professor from the Netherlands summed up the problem by saying that the story of Islam and Europe is as much about wars and conflict as it is about scientific and cultural exchange. If you want people to acknowledge one, he said, there needs to be space to discuss the other.

What does this mean in practice? It means providing more context when discussing Islam’s scientific luminaries and their achievements. For example, when we say that The Canon of Medicine is an example of the successful transfer of knowledge from East to West, we should perhaps also say that many European commentators were not very polite about the author Ibn Sina (Avicenna). One writer described the book as "Arab lies". Another commentator accused Ibn Sina of being "part of that filthy and wicked Muhammadan sect which legitimises divorce and takes the view that all miracles have a natural explanation".

Similarly, it is often said that the 9th-century ruler al-Mamun was an important scientific patron and rationalist thinker. And it is true that without his funding important developments such as algebra might have taken longer to materialise. But in celebrating his contributions to science we also need to acknowledge that al-Mamun was despotic, intolerant of those who did not share his rationalist philosophy and actively waged wars against Byzantium.

Over the past five years large strides have been made in the public understanding of Islamic contributions to the arts and sciences and such work needs to continue. Many readers of books and visitors to museums will become more knowledgable, which is a good thing. But the fact that Islamic scientists from the Middle Ages invented clocks, cameras and crankshafts is unlikely on its own to change the mind of someone whose image of modern-day Muslims is much less flattering. Shifting perceptions is a far harder task.

Ehsan Masood is the Editor of Research Europe and the author of Science and Islam: A History. He will be talking at Asia House on Jan 28.