joshim

homosexuality

Much of the moral arguments found in the Quran assume we have the ability to recognise faḥshā when we see or experience it. al-aʿrāf:33 even says that God only restricts us in al-fawāḥisha. So if same-sex relationships are forbidden, it must be because they are immoral, and this should be evident. If not immediately, then at least after examination and reflection. It’s from this angle that I think the classical shariah position on homosexuality can be questioned, because it doesn’t persuasively make the case that homosexual relationships are immoral.

For example, the argument that homosexual sex is a perversion and abuse of bodily organs and orifices isn’t based on the Quran, which never speaks of the telos of specific body organs or orifices. Other justifications, such as the argument that legitimising homosexual relationships will destabilise traditional marriage, or that it could lead to other social ills, are not compelling. If homosexual relationships cannot be shown to be immoral, why then would they be forbidden? Potentially, the shariah could allow for them. Consider al-rūm:21,

๏ And from His signs is that He created partners for you from yourselves. That you may find tranquillity in them, and He placed between you love and mercy. Indeed, in that are surely signs for people who reflect. ๏

The verse doesn’t say our partners must be of the opposite sex – healthy relationships are built on mutual feelings of tranquillity, love and mercy. “Your tongues and colours,” says the next verse, are from God’s signs. Echoed again in the imagery of fāṭir:27–28, the vastness of human diversity is likened to the colours and textures of mountains, fruits and living creatures. This should give pause for thought before a blanket exclusion of diversity in sexuality is pursued, given how integral sexuality is to the human condition.

A Quranic basis for homosexual relationships can be built from these verses, provided those which are typically used to oppose them are accounted for. Such as the story of Prophet Lut and his people, which is traditionally read as a strong condemnation of male homosexuality. I won’t reproduce an alternative interpretation here in full, but just to give an example of how one can begin to form, consider al-anʿām:139. This verse is not directly related to the story of Prophet Lut, but its language is instructive:

๏ And they say, “Whatever is within these pleasant things is only for our males [dhukūr] and forbidden for our azwāj! […]” ๏

The people granted privileges and pleasures to their males and wilfully neglected their complementary azwāj. This isn’t an example of homosexuality or sexual deviancy, but a blatant display of sexism. This can be linked to al-shuʿarā:165–166 where Prophet Lut admonishes his community:

๏ Do you bring forth the males [al-dhuk’rān] from the worlds, and forsake what your Lord created for you of your azwāj? Rather, you are a transgressing community! ๏

There is an obvious similarity. Lut’s people could be described as male supremacists – they favoured and sought to elevate the males while they neglected and oppressed women. The other verses of the story can also be interpreted in this light, which shifts the message away from homosexuality entirely.

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Tagged: #homosexuality #tradition #shariah

The following are some brief thoughts on Daniel Haqiqatjou’s essay, Debating Homosexuality. [^1] For those who haven’t read it, the essay is a debate Haqiqatjou has with himself about the ethics of same-sex relationships. In it he attacks the Western secular position which is for same-sex relationships, and defends the Classical Islamic doctrine which prohibits them.

Broadly speaking, the secular argument is that like heterosexual ones, same-sex relationships are one of life’s goods. They are pleasurable for the participants; they create stability and security; they help in emotional and personal development; they provide fulfilment over an extended period of time. People in same-sex relationships have the right to privacy and so long as they are entered into by mutual consent, there is nothing immoral about them.

The bulk of Haqiqatjou’s essay questions more or less every premise of this argument. The critique takes the form of: ‘secularists say x, but x is not necessarily or always the case.’ So on the issue of harm associated with same-sex relationships, he argues that harm is not always understood by its consequences. Sometimes a thing is harmful even if its consequences are not clear. On the benefits of sexual gratification, public masturbation is used as an example of when sexual gratification is unacceptable. On the right to privacy, hard drugs use in private is cited as an instance when the principle is not applicable. And so on. The aim by this is not to show that the secular argument is based on faulty propositions. That won’t do since these same propositions are used in Islamic philosophy as well. Consequentialism, the pursuit of happiness, the right to privacy etc. all feature in Islamic law. Rather, the aim is to show that secularists do not apply their ethics uniformly across all arguably related circumstances. Thus, secular ethics is inconsistent and not “preeminently rational.”

There are some noticeably weak or contradictory arguments throughout the essay. For example, in Q4 Haqiqatjou states that nothing is objectively harmful – for “what is or is not deemed harmful is ineluctably normative and far from objective.” This is a complete U-turn on comments he makes in another essay, [^2] where he says extramarital relations are an “objective evil.” Another example is in Q8 where he attacks Western notions of pursuing happiness. “It is not hard to imagine,” he tells us, “how a hyper-sexualized society could socialize children and adults to interpret… natural feelings as latent signs of same-sex sexual attraction.” He doesn’t row back on this armchair psychology when he later admits that same-sex activity also occurred in Muslim societies throughout history. He doesn’t explain whether these Muslim societies were also hyper-sexualised, and what this might mean for a religious tradition which holds Muslim societies of the past as exemplary. Instead he goes on to drive the point home in Q13 with some slippery slope reasoning: “Any man who gives free reign to his lust for women may eventually be driven toward craving to penetrate other men, animals, and beyond.”

Then there are the non-arguments. Significant chunks of the essay don’t seem to add anything to the debate. Perhaps in eagerness to take a sledgehammer to every premise, he lost track of what would actually further his position, which would explain comments seen in Q10. There he attacks secularists at length for neglecting intuitive morality, only to concede that even in Islamic thought intuition must be deferred to jurists because it isn’t always reliable. Similarly, in Q9 he argues that aside from sexual assault, “the meaning and relevance of consent is far less obvious.” Meaning, even if people consent to something it doesn’t necessarily make it moral. But this is hardly noteworthy since a) generally in secular ethics consent is a necessary condition for a relationship to be considered legitimate, not a sufficient one; and b) this is how consent is understood in Islamic thought as well.

Perhaps the most disappointing road to nowhere is his views regarding same-sex relationships and harm. Several times between Q2 and Q5 he suggests these relationships are harmful, provided we acknowledge that perception of harm is subjective. If Haqiqatjou could prove that there is in fact harm done by such relationships, this would be fatal to the secular argument. Yet, having laid the groundwork, nothing gets built on it and nothing comes of it. By the end of the essay we’re no closer to understanding why same-sex relationships are harmful.

Even if we were to take all these as just isolated instances of poor reasoning in an otherwise good essay, the general thrust of his critique is still weak. He demonstrates that for every premise of the secular argument, exceptions exist. But so what? A system of ethics doesn’t need all its base assumptions to be inflexible in order to be rational or compelling. Take for example, ‘killing is wrong.’ There are some circumstances where killing may be necessary – self-defence, or in the protection of others etc. We accept such exceptions, but it doesn’t mean a social ethic built on ‘killing is wrong’ is inconsistent or that the general principle is flawed. Similarly the argument for same-sex relationships doesn’t rely on every one of its premises being applied uniformly in every related situation.

Despite its considerable length, the essay fails to discredit the secular position because, crucially, the author fails to identify what makes it persuasive to begin with.

This initially caught my attention because it was written by someone with a keen eye for philosophy. Haqiqatjou’s examination of the Western secular argument was disappointing, but if he could make a rational case for the Classical Islamic position, all would be forgiven.

In Q7 he points out that making appeals to nature to justify sexual behaviour is a logical fallacy. It can’t be argued something is right just because you claim it to be natural. But then he explains in Q13 that the moral reasoning behind Islam’s prohibition of same-sex relationships includes: “Appeals to nature and teleology, specifically regarding the natural, God-given roles of males as penetrators and females as recipients of penetration and how liwat subverts this normative order.”

How do we understand this contradiction? If appeals to nature are fallacious, why does he use one here? It turns out that for Haqiqatjou, the Islamic appeal to nature is actually rational. “Western liberal attitudes about human desire,” he says, “are not based on any robust, objective theory of human nature,” whereas “Islamic metaphysics, in contrast, does have just such a theory.” In other words, when Muslims of the classical tradition appeal to nature, they are in fact appealing to an objective standard. Therefore, it is not a logical fallacy to make such an appeal.

If this sounds like an appeal to religion, that’s because it is. What he calls an “objective theory of human nature” is commonly known as something else: religious doctrine. Which is why he is forced to concede that “non-Muslims may be skeptical” of its objectivity:

“Muslims can concede that there is no “objective” way to know that the fitra as described in revelation exists. We can concede that there are no scientific experiments that will unveil true primordial human nature. But, just because science cannot opine on this does not mean that the fitra does not exist and does not operate in the way Islamic thought describes.”

Not objective then. What is “described in revelation” is obviously subject to interpretation, so Traditionalist Islam’s theory of human nature is defined by the subjective readings of scholars of religious texts. That’s not objective. Scholars can agree upon an interpretation of the texts at best, but that’s still not objective.

I think the reason he peddles this strange equivocation is because appealing to religious doctrine turns out to be his only argument. Essentially, same-sex relationships are wrong because the scholars say it’s unnatural based on their understanding of human nature, derived from their interpretations from classical Islamic texts. For comparison, consider his essay The Rationality of Islamic Sexual Ethics: Zina, again. In his conclusion he says that “even if one is not religious per se, the rational merits of prohibiting premarital sex and adultery are more than evident.” Whether his argument is convincing or not is besides the point; he was able to at least make the case without relying on doctrine. If Haqiqatjou could have done the same here, he would have.

As such, you would have to be religious in order to accept his arguments against same-sex relationships. And you would have to be the right type of religious too.

The lack of rational merit for the Traditionalist position is a concern primarily for Muslims who believe the dīn must be based on sound logic. This debate is happening among Muslims within a wider Islamic discourse, but Haqiqatjou’s essay composes it as Western Liberalism vs Islam. And in order to frame it in this way, he dismisses divergent Islamic views on the issue in Q1. Alternative interpretations of the texts which accommodate same-sex relationships are deemed “implausible and confused.” This dismissal was necessary to set up his argument that Islam has an “objective theory of human nature.” Had he admitted to there being alternative theories on human nature based on the same texts he uses, he would have had to explain why the theory of human nature he invests in is objective but those of dissenting voices are not.

In the end, trying to salvage Haqiqatjou’s understanding of objectivity and human nature is a waste of time. A more fundamental point is that having a theory of human nature doesn’t mean the ethics built from it are any good. One useful example is that of concubinage. Classical scholars, equipped with their “objective” understanding of the fitra, saw nothing immoral in acquiring female slaves to use for sex. A man could have an unlimited number of concubines if he so wished and did not require their consent (in any meaningful sense of the word) to have sex with them. Which is to say this so-called objective theory of human nature allowed for what can be described as the systemic rape of women – those captured as war booty, those born into bondage and women who had fallen into destitution. This highlights what is already evident to many people: we shouldn’t rely on sexual ethics constructed by ancient scholars based on their understanding of human nature. There is a real need to move the discussion forward.

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Tagged: #homosexuality #haqiqatjou

Notes:

[^1]: Haqiqatjou, D. (2015, July 20). Debating Homosexuality. Retrieved from http://muslimmatters.org/2015/07/20/debating-homosexuality/ [^2]: Haqiqatjou, D. (2015 June 11). The Rationality of Islamic Sexual Ethics: Zina. Retrieved from http://muslimmatters.org/2015/06/11/the-rationality-of-islamic-sexual-ethics-zina/