Colonialism, Islamic Radicalism, and Michel Foucault
Abstract
Political Islamism has emerged as a contradiction to the reformist democratic movement for renaissance and modernity. The Muslim Brotherhood appears to represent a new form of Muslim nationalism and anti-colonial resistance in Egypt. The 1979 Iranian Revolution, led by Khomeini, along with his subsequent anti-Western politics, marked a significant moment for critical investigations into Islam and political extremism. Michel Foucault wrote a journalistic report on the Iranian Revolution after visiting Iran during the upheaval, characterizing the political event in terms of political spirituality. In conclusion, I aim to provide both conceptual clarity and an archaeological interpretation of the relationship between Foucault and Iran.
Political Islamism on the Rise
Muslims have long advocated for renewal and reform, yet these efforts have not led to the desired renaissance, modernity, or democracy. The term renaissance (nahdah), meaning ‘rebirth,’ was used with optimism in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries to describe the goals of cultural and religious reform movements, often in response to European influence and interaction. As recently as 1989, a Tunisian Islamic reform movement even renamed itself the Renaissance Party (Hizb al-Nahdah).
However, the Iranian Revolution and its subsequent political Islamic policies shifted the West’s perception, reinforcing its negative image of brutality and an anti-Western stance. In the wake of the September 11, 2001 attacks and the subsequent fall of the Taliban government in Afghanistan and Saddam Hussein’s regime in Iraq, the prospects for an Islamic renaissance, democracy, and civil society seemed more distant and uncertain than ever.
Reform Movements in the Shadow of Colonialism
European colonization of the Muslim world prompted Muslim reformers to call for change. If the Muslim world had once been a global leader in culture and intellectual achievement, these reformers believed it could reclaim that role through critical engagement with the West and constructive endeavors.
However, in the context of European colonialism, the process of renewal and reform was significantly hindered, even obstructed. Some religious scholars became entrenched in rigid traditionalism, preserving the core structures of Islamic society. Meanwhile, colonial control introduced European innovations—new commodities, technologies, and cultural shifts—into the streets of Muslim capitals.
Traditional religious scholars, content with the status quo, enjoyed the prestige of respected elders in society. Consequently, Islamic reformers began to criticize these scholars, viewing them as obstacles to reform, innovative thinking, and modernity. Even Muhammad Abduh, a prominent reformer, struggled to implement changes at his own university—al-Azhar University, a renowned center of Sunni Islamic learning—but faced resistance.[1]
As a student of Abdhu, the Egyptian reformer Qasim Amin (1863–1908) became a central figure in the Islamic modernist movement of the Nahda and advocated for the reform of women’s status in society, particularly through education. He argued that the dignity and equality outlined in the Quran had been largely abandoned in the treatment of women. According to Amin, the Quran does not promote the subjugation of women but rather supports their rights.
In his 1899 book Tahrir al-Mar’a (“The Liberation of Woman”), Amin emphasized that women’s education and an improved status in marriage—especially the end of seclusion and the abolition of the veil—were crucial for the advancement of Islamic society. Amin’s views provoked fierce opposition from traditional religious scholars, who accused him of undermining Egypt under the influence of the British colonial government. This tension culminated in Egypt becoming a formal protectorate during World War I, leading to limited independence in 1922.
Even today, Amin is often described as an unrepentant Westernizer—some even label him a “self-hating Muslim.”[2] The colonial era fostered a defense of traditional practices, and calls for reform often had the opposite effect of what they intended.
For example, while the sciences flourished in the Muslim world well into the sixteenth century, they were largely supported by wealthy patrons rather than being institutionalized within Islamic education. Religious scholars often saw scientific study as a threat to religious faith and divine revelation. In the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, reformers raised concerns that reverence for tradition was stifling innovation in Islamic education, particularly in the natural sciences.
Islam, Reformation and Modernity
The aftermath of World War I had a profoundly negative impact on the Muslim world. Instead of the anticipated independence and opportunity, much of the Muslim world found itself burdened with further European domination. In this context, the call for renewal and reform became even more widespread than before the war. However, the populist reformers began to take the form of Islamic traditional revivalism, arguing that Islam alone was sufficient to address all human needs and emphasizing the need for Islamic consciousness-raising in opposition to the West. This shift marked a transition from reform to religious revival through politicized Islam—referred to as political Islamism, or more generally, fundamentalism. It was believed that foreign models of governance should be replaced with authentic Islamic governments.
On the rise of Islamic fundamentalism, I consider the Pakistani Muslim Tariq Ali, who raised the question: “Why was there no reformation in Islam?” According to Ali, an Islamic reformation could have taken place in al-Andalus, had its Islamic culture remained intact. In fact, the European Reformation began shortly after the conquest of Granada at the beginning of the sixteenth century, followed by the rise of modern philosophy (Descartes), natural sciences (Galileo), and new political theory (Hobbes and Locke).
However, by the eighteenth century, Islam remained on the defensive. There were regional reform movements in Islamic countries, but not a universal reformation. These regional reform movements paralleled the rise of Islamic fundamentalism, which became more prevalent in the aftermath of European colonialism.[3]
In my view, the Islamic reformation, initiated by al-Afghani (d. 1897), should be understood within the context of Islamic modernism, which aimed to strengthen the Muslim world in the face of Western imperialism. His Pan-Islamism advocated for the political unity of Muslim countries against European domination, particularly British colonial rule. Al-Afghani argued that modern sciences and technology should be integrated into Islamic education and society, while remaining true to Islamic values. This vision revived the spirit of ijtihad, emphasizing independent reasoning and the constructive interpretation of Islamic law to address contemporary challenges. His ideas were further developed by Muhammad Abdhu (d. 1905).
Al-Afghani believed that nothing in the core principles of Islam was incompatible with reason, science, or human dignity, which inspired further reform and an alternative path to modernity. In parallel, political Islamism emerged, driven by a concern for Islamic revivalism in the spirit of anti-imperialism and resistance to capitalist modernity. While Islamic modernism and political Islamism are distinct, they both point in different directions, yet share some common roots.
This perspective situates the Islamic context of reformation in contrast to the European context of the Reformation, which ultimately led to the Treaty of Westphalia and the political theory of the nation-state, liberating itself from Roman Catholicism and the Holy Roman Empire. However, Islamic modernism and political Islamism did not oppose Islamic religious values; rather, they became entangled in a conflict of interpretation, each vying for its own orientation.
Egypt’s Internal Conflict After the 1919 Revolution
Egypt faced significant internal conflict in the wake of the 1919 revolution against British occupation in Egypt and Sudan. Arab socialism emerged in Egypt when King Farouk was overthrown by the Revolutionary Council, headed by General A. M. Naguib, who was later succeeded by Gamal Abdel Nasser (1918-1970).
However, opposition emerged from the Muslim Brotherhood, which spread across the Middle East and came to represent political Islamism. Founded in 1928 by Hasan al-Banna (1906–1949), a young schoolteacher from Egypt, the organization was inspired by Rashid Rida (1865–1935), a prominent Islamic reformer who had been influenced by Abdhu’s Islamic Modernism in Cairo. However, Rida later diverged from his initial rationalist leanings and turned towards a more Salafi-oriented approach, advocating for the revival of Islam through the Islamization of modernity.
Al-Banna made an emotional appeal, drawing attention to a group of laborers working for the British on the Suez Canal. According to al-Banna’s account, they said: “We are weary of this life of humiliation and restriction … we see that Arabs and Muslims have no status and no dignity… We are unable to perceive the road to action as you perceive it, or to know the path to the service of the fatherland [watan], the religion and the ummah [Muslim community] as you know it … If a group contracts with God sincerely that it live for his religion and die in his service, seeking only his satisfaction, then its worthiness will assure its success however small its numbers or weak its means.”[4]
Sayyid Qutb (1906-1966), often called the ‘Father of Salafi Jihadism,’ was a leading figure in the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood. He was executed by hanging after being convicted of plotting the assassination of Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser. Qutb was heavily influenced by Abul Ala Maududi, but he was not always an extremist.
Initially, he had a deep enthusiasm for Western culture and secular politics. He spent two years in the United States studying educational organizations, and during this time, he was exposed to both the positive and negative aspects of Western society. Even after joining the Muslim Brotherhood in 1953, Qutb remained a reformer, hoping to give Western democracy an Islamic dimension that would avoid the pitfalls of secularism.
For Hassan al-Banna, the founder of the Muslim Brotherhood, Muslims needed to embrace Western science and technology to reform their political and social institutions. However, he believed that such modernization must occur alongside a spiritual reformation. The core issue with the West, as he saw it, was its materialistic character—an ideology that was willing to oppress the poor in order to satisfy the desires of the wealthy.
Against Western materialism, he proclaimed the new renaissance as the guiding principle of Islam, emphasizing its spirit, values, and teachings. He called on all people to follow this sacred path and “return to what they already possessed in their own right–the great Book of God, the brilliant manifest example of their Prophet and their glorious history.”[5]
This represents a return to the new Renaissance that al-Banna sought to achieve. In the political context, he criticized the failure of the Western democratic system, particularly in relation to colonialism, German Nazism, and Italian Fascism. On the other hand, socialism and communism also came under scrutiny. While their emphasis on social justice and solidarity was admirable—especially when contrasted with Europe’s capitalist individualism—al-Banna rejected Soviet atheism, the brutality of the Red regime, tyranny, and the collectivist nature of the Soviet system. He argued that these were no better than the degenerate tsarist empire they had replaced.
According to al-Banna, the greatest value of communism lies in its emphasis on equality, its condemnation of class distinctions, and its critique of property as the root cause of class differences. He believed these values and lessons were deeply embedded in the minds of Muslims.[6]
Al-Banna’s political Islamism sought an alternative solution by striving to re-Islamize Egypt through a return to Islamic principles, a program of mass education, and social and economic reforms. In its early stages, the Muslim Brotherhood’s approach was non-violent and legalistic, working within the framework of the law.[7]
Al-Banna sought a new renaissance with an Islamic character, aiming to return to the core principles, teachings, and practices of Islam while opposing European civilization. He “initiated the reconciliation of modern life with these principles, as a prelude to a final ‘Islamization’.”[8]
Islamic Extremism and Sharia
In the conflict between the Muslim Brotherhood and the regime of Egypt, the former advances only a single demand: the application of Sharia law. However, Sharia offers no method for organizing government and public administration in the modern world. In this regard, Sharia is indifferent to democracy and has never questioned autocratic forms of power.
This confrontation appears to be generational, spanning the regimes of Presidents Anwar al-Sadat and Hosni Mubarak. It also continues in General Abdel Fattah el-Sisi’s systematic repression of the Muslim Brotherhood, which he frames as religious extremism, following his military overthrow of Egypt’s government in 2013. This coup removed President Mohamed Morsi (2012–2013), a member of the Muslim Brotherhood. El-Sisi was elected president through a parliamentary system in 2014.
In Tariq Ramadan’s view, Sharia should be seen in a broader context, corresponding to the higher goals of humankind. It is not a timeless legal code, but rather a call to social justice and the respect for fundamental rights such as education, housing, employment, and well-being. The Muslim Brotherhood is appreciated for its role in anti-colonial resistance, agrarian reform in southern Egypt, its critique of capitalism, and its nonviolent leanings.[9]
Unlike Ramadan, Sharia is not just a set of legal rules for social justice and human rights; it is interpreted by Islamic scholars and jurists. The interpretation of Sharia law (fiqh) is an ongoing subject of debate, particularly regarding its compatibility with modern values and human rights standards. The hudud punishments—such as whipping, stoning, and amputation—central to Sharia, continue to provoke discussions about whether they align with the concept of a modern Islamic state or theocratic rule.
Sharia encompasses both canonical and social legal principles but is not codified in a single, unified text. It is therefore essential to reinterpret Sharia, which has historically evolved, deviated, and even been distorted from its original, Meccan Quranic context. The contrast between the Quranic verses from the Meccan period and the later punishments prescribed under Sharia (such as stoning or hand amputation) underscores the need for reinterpretation and reform. If Islam is viewed as a religion with an unspoiled nature, then a modernized, renewed concept of Sharia should be reconstructed—one that removes discriminatory practices (such as brutal punishments, gender inequality, and violations of the universal dignity of non-Muslims) embedded in the traditional formulations of Sharia by early religious scholars.
Over generations, the Islamic community has expanded into new cultures and faced new challenges. This evolution has made it increasingly difficult to rely solely on the practices and examples of the Prophet Muhammad to guide every aspect of life across diverse cultural and political contexts. As such, a system of law is necessary to address new situations. This system of law, known as fiqh, is based on four core principles called Usul al-Fiqh (Principles of Jurisprudence): the Quran, the Sunna (traditions of the Prophet), reasoning by analogy (qiyas), and consensus of the community (ijma).[10]
Ijtihad—the independent reasoning and interpretation of Islamic law by qualified scholars—has been effectively ‘closed’ in many Islamic traditions, discouraging its practice. Meanwhile, naskh (abrogation) addresses potential contradictions within the Quran by superseding an earlier revelation with a later one. The Hanafi school, which upholds the principle of ijtihad, was unique in that it was often juxtaposed with, and at times even incorporated into, the secular legal framework of the Ottoman Empire.
In fact, the Tanzimat reforms of the 19th century in the Ottoman Empire reorganized both Islamic law and sultanic criminal law, following the model of the Napoleonic Code. In 1869, a civil law code known as the Turkish Mecelle (Arabic: Majalla) was established as the basis of Islamic law for the Ottoman Empire.[11]
Adhuh, a prominent modernist reformer, viewed Sharia as primarily concerned with religious rituals, while other Islamic laws should be adapted to changing circumstances. Rather than adhering strictly to the medieval schools of jurisprudence, he advocated for a creative approach to ijtihad, emphasizing the role of reason and democratic principles, as well as the importance of pluralism and freedom of thought. The Qur’an asserts that there is no compulsion in religion, affirming the equal dignity of all human beings and the value of the individual (5:32).
Salafism and the Rejection of Innovation
In contrast to Islamic modernists, the rejectionist Islamic view, as articulated by Sayyid Qutb and Abul Ala Maududi, condemns the imitation of foreign ideas. They distinguish the Islamic concept of shura (consultation between the ruler and the ruled) from Western democracy.
Salafism emphasizes a return to the practices of the pious forefathers—the first three generations of Muslims—which are considered the most authentic form of Islam. Adhering strictly to the literal interpretation of the Quran and the Sunna (the teachings and actions of Prophet Muhammad), Salafi ideology rejects later innovations or reinterpretations as un-Islamic. In its most extreme form, Salafism advocates for the use of violence and armed struggle (jihad) to establish an Islamic state.
Maududi, a prominent Islamist thinker from Pakistan, founded Jamaat-e-Islami, a political party advocating the establishment of an Islamic state governed by Sharia law. His ideas were adopted by some Salafi circles, while other Salafis criticized his engagement with democratic politics and his adaptation of Islamic principles to modern culture.
At any rate, Qutb’s call for violent jihad and revolution persists in the ongoing clash between the regime and political Islamists. His thinking was influenced by the tradition of Ibn Taymiyya (1263–1328), who denounced the Mongols, despite their conversion to Islam, as well as Sufism.
In 1956, Qutb was imprisoned by Gamal Abdel Nasser for his membership in the Muslim Brotherhood. During his time in a concentration camp, Qutb became convinced that religious people and secularists could not coexist peacefully within the same society. His book Milestones (Arabic: Muqaddimat al-Milestones, 1964) became a foundational text for Islamic extremists, drawing on the Qur’an and hadith to support his ideas.
The book includes his critique of Christians and Jews, whom he labels as polytheists, based on a verse of the Qur’an (9:31) that warns against granting religious authorities—monks and rabbis—divine authority alongside Allah. This is the charge of shirk, which ascribes divinity or divine qualities to anything other than God, and Qutb uses it to critique both Jews and Christians more broadly.
On the contrary, the Ninth Surah, At-Tawbah (Repentance), was rooted in the socio-political context of Medina, just before the Prophet’s final military expedition to Tabuk (near the Gulf of Aqaba, in present-day northwestern Saudi Arabia). This campaign, known as the Campaign of Hardship, took place in October 630 CE (Rajab AH 9). It was prompted by reports of a potential Byzantine invasion of northern Arabia, though no battle ultimately occurred. The Ninth Surah critiques certain individuals who refused to participate, referring to them as hypocrites.[12]
Qutb’s literalist interpretation of Quranic verses expanded the concept of jahiliyyah (ignorance)—a term originally referring to the pre-Islamic state of ignorance—to encompass both non-Muslim and, crucially, Muslim societies. He described these societies as barbaric. According to Qutb, Muslims, following the example of Prophet Muhammad, were obligated to fight to the death against ideologies such as communism, capitalism, socialism, nationalism, and even other religions.
Qutb went further than Maududi, who had restricted the concept of jahiliyyah to non-Muslim societies alone. Qutb applied this term to conventional Muslim societies as well. Even though a ruler like Nasser outwardly professed Islam, Qutb argued that his actions and words proved him to be an apostate. Therefore, Muslims were duty-bound to overthrow such a government, just as Muhammad had forced the pagan establishment of Mecca into submission.[13]
Sayyid Qutb remains the dominant spokesman for the post-World War I approach to Islamic revivalism. He was both influenced by, and in turn influenced, Abu’l Ala Maududi (d. 1979), the founder of South Asia’s leading movement for Islamic revival, Jamaat-e-Islami, which was established in the 1940s. The Pakistani Jamaat-e-Islami called for the reintroduction of Sharia, which had been largely restricted due to the modernization of state legislation and administration during the 19th and 20th centuries. This form of Islamic integralism is deeply intertwined with anti-Western sentiment, rejecting the modernist emphasis on reason, rationality, and science.
Maududi sought to integrate human rights into the existing framework of Sharia. In 1990, the Cairo Declaration on Human Rights in Islam granted Islam a privileged status over other religions, specifically excluding the conversion from Islam and the missionary activities of other religions within Islamic territories. This stance stands in contradiction to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.[14]
Shiite Muslims and Khomeini
In the 1960s, Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini (1902–1989) led the Iranian people in mass protests against the oppressive and unconstitutional policies of Muhammad Reza Shah. The Shah was likened to Yazid, the Umayyad caliph who was responsible for the death of Husayn at Karbala, a pivotal event and symbol of tyranny in Shia Islam. The Islamic Arab Empire was founded by Muawiyyah, the governor of Syria from the Umayyad clan, who revolted against the fourth caliph, Ali. Damascus, the cultural heart of Syria, became the political center of a new Arab dynasty during the Umayyad period (661–750).
Regarding the Shiite faction, there exists a genealogical and personal principle for Shiites, who believe that only a direct descendant of Ali, the Prophet’s cousin and son-in-law, is qualified to serve as the successor. Ali’s supporters maintained that Muhammad himself had chosen Ali as his successor, citing prophetic traditions (hadith) to support their claim.
However, a power struggle unfolded over the nature of authority during the Medina Caliphate (the so-called ‘rightly-guided’ caliphs: Abu Bakr, Umar, Uthman, and Ali). These disputes were largely resolved through the Umayyads’ victory in the conquests of Syria, Egypt, Iraq, and Iran.
In 661, Ali was struck with a poisoned sword at the door of a mosque in Kufa, and he died a painful death. Due to his marriage to Muhammad’s daughter Fatima, his followers believed that his son would inherit the authority of the Prophet’s line. In 680, Ali’s son, Husayn, and his supporters were killed by Umayyad forces while attempting to reclaim the caliphate in Damascus. Husayn’s martyrdom left an indelible mark on Shiite Islam.
From its inception, the Shiite community was led by a series of rulers known as imams, all of whom traced their lineage back to Ali. In Shiite belief, there is an eschatological faith centered around the twelfth imam, Muhammad al-Mahdi. According to tradition, al-Mahdi went into occultation in 940 and will reappear on the Day of Judgment to establish justice and peace on Earth. This belief is a key characteristic of Twelver Shiism, which is the largest group of Shiites in modern Iran.[15]
For this historical reason, Muslims believed they had a religious duty to fight against tyranny. This belief played a significant role in the Iranian Islamic Revolution of 1979, which overthrew the Shah’s secular regime and replaced it with a government led by religious scholars. However, despite its revolutionary rhetoric, the new regime employed the same security apparatus as the Shah and committed similar atrocities, silencing all opposition in the process.[16]
Foucault and the Iranian Revolution
Shah Reza Pahlavi’s regime was plotted and backed by the CIA, which helped bring him to power in 1953. In response to its repressive nature, protests in Iran, led by secularized and mostly left-wing urban intellectuals, called for reforms. A source of inspiration was Ali Shariati, whose socialist influence and sociological interpretation of Islam emphasized people’s sovereignty. Shariati died in 1977, but his ideas continued to inspire the movement. The protesters were clear about their goal: to establish an Islamic Republic, led by the exiled Ayatollah Khomeini and created under Shia principles.
In January 1978, students at the largest seminary in Qom, Iran, protested against a government-sponsored newspaper article that criticized Khomeini. Khomeini, exiled from Iran in 1963, had resettled in the holy city of Najaf, Iraq, and continued to exercise political influence. The students’ demonstration sparked the Shia Iranian clergy to mobilize religious gatherings in support of the protests. On September 8, known as ‘Black Friday,’ between 2,000 and 4,000 demonstrators were killed by the military in Jaleh Square in Tehran.
One week after ‘Black Friday,’ Michel Foucault arrived in Iran. Commissioned by the Italian newspaper Corriere della Sera (with reprints in the French Le Nouvel Observateur), Foucault visited Iran as a ‘political journalist’ to write a series of articles about the unfolding revolution. In October, Foucault returned to France and held discussions with Abol-Hasan Bani-Sadr, the future president of Iran, who was still in exile. Foucault and a group of journalists also met Khomeini, who had arrived in France on October 3, after being forced out of Iraq by the government there.
On January 16, 1979, the Shah left Iran, and on February 1, 1979, Foucault was present at Paris airport to witness Khomeini’s return to Iran.[17]
Despite his critique of Western modernity, Foucault’s writings on the Iranian Revolution reflect aspects of Kant’s philosophy of Enlightenment and the French Revolution. He suggests the legitimacy of the Iranian Revolution as part of the ongoing process of Enlightenment—an extension of the Kantian call to “dare to know”—leading toward further emancipation and self-determination.
However, the Iranian Revolution, beyond Kant’s focus on individual reason and autonomy, is framed by Foucault as a moment of Enlightenment through political spirituality, contributing to the writing of the history of the present. This interpretation contrasts with accusations that Foucault romanticized the revolution.[18]
The Iranian population demonstrated remarkable power and resistance, willing to risk imprisonment, torture, and even death. The theme of power and resistance serves to illustrate Foucault’s critique of juridical power, which is deeply embedded in a state-oriented framework.
In his discussion of the Iranian Revolution, Foucault revealed himself as an uncritical supporter of Khomeini, downplaying the violent struggle and the subsequent wave of executions. A Shiite form of religious charisma and the brutal oppression of dissent have little in common with Kant’s philosophy of Enlightenment. Kant rejected the Jacobin politics of Terror, despite his admiration for the revolution’s ideals of liberty, equality, and fraternity. Instead, Kant sought to develop cosmopolitan principle and the idea of permanent peace within a republican framework of constitutional democracy, alongside an ethics of hospitality with anti-colonial implications.
The Iranian population showed power and resistance, as ready to risk imprisonment, torture and even death. Theme of power and resistance serves to illustrate Foucault’s criticism of a juridical power embedded with its state-oriented basis.[19]
Kant’s famous slogan sapere aude (“dare to know”) is defined by the public use of reason, which grounds the general will. This idea involves a balance between politics—expressed in the Biblical injunction “Be ye therefore wise as serpents”—and morality, as outlined in “and innocent as doves.” A moral politician, according to Kant, is one who employs political prudence, enacting reforms that align with the principles of public law and justice, while also making use of revolution when necessary.[20]
Indeed, Foucault endorses revolt for its spontaneous and spiritual character, highlighting a unique form of collective will rooted in religious belief and a desire for social change—what he terms “political spirituality.” This stands in contrast to traditional political ideologies. He was captivated by the unified popular will in the early stages of the Iranian uprising, yet he underestimated Khomeini’s political leadership.
In misrepresenting Kant, Foucault remains confined within the European tradition of thought. While his archaeology of different systems of knowledge seeks to observe the Iranian Revolution as a critique of modernity and Western power structures, he fails to grasp how Islam constructs human reality across all aspects of politics, society, and culture. As a result, he overlooks the role of discipline, imprisonment, and torture in both pre- and post-revolutionary Iran.
The government led by the Shiite clergy implies that the clergy must play a central role in political affairs, merging the spiritual with the political. This is an aspect that Foucault acknowledges but does not fully explore.
For Foucault “religion …was like the promise and guarantee of something that would radically change their subjectivity. Sh’ism is precisely a form of Islam that, with its teaching and esoteric content, distinguishes between what is merely external and what is the profound spiritual life.”[21]
Political spirituality can be seen as a form of resistance against prevailing power and its political rationality. At this juncture, the very nature of rationality is at stake. Each society operates under a specific “regime of truth,” shaped by the types of discourse and their functions, all embedded within power relations. In this context, juridical power is understood as a form of domination—a purely negative force exercised through institutions. Resistance, therefore, is internal to power relations, emerging as an alternative form of power.
Indeed, religion often serves as a form of social protest against dictatorship and oppression, a role it has played both in the Iranian context and in the broader Western political tradition. While Foucault conceptualizes power as an intentional relation without a singular individual subject, Khomeini embodied a charismatic autocracy, positioning himself as the central subject of dictatorial power. His leadership served to legitimize post-revolutionary violence in the name of the revolution.
In his concept of human rights, however, Foucault argues that “an international citizenship”…”obliges one to speak out against every abuse of power, whoever its author, whoever its victim….to show mutual solidarity….[The suffering of men] grounds an absolute right to stand up and speak to those who hold power.”[22]
A spiritual dimension to political life, or “political spirituality,” plays a central role in Shariati’s thought, particularly because, in his view, Islam is the religion of the oppressed, especially within the Shia context. He offers a revolutionary framework for Shiite opposition to any form of worldly government, emphasizing its potential for social change. Shariati positions Shiite spirituality as an antidote to Marxist-inspired materialism, which he critiques for its anti-religious worldview.[23]
Be that as it may, Khomeini’s decision to take American embassy hostages in Tehran (November 1979) contradicted clear Quranic teachings on the treatment of prisoners, which call for dignity, respect, and their release as soon as possible. Khomeini’s insistence on “unity of expression” suppressed dissenting voices, yet Islam has never demanded ideological conformity. Coercion in religious matters is explicitly forbidden in the Quran.[24]
For Foucault, his enthusiasm for the Iranian Revolution does not equate to a legitimization of post-revolutionary violence, as spirituality, in his view, has no connection to the bloodthirsty actions of a fundamentalist clerical government. Nonetheless, the Iranian Revolution remains a significant factor in Foucault’s analysis of the history of thought, particularly in how it problematizes the relationship between religious and political practices and events.[25]
An ethics of genealogy respects the singularity of political events when they emerge as resistance to power from above. However, it takes an anti-strategic stance, being intransigent when post-revolutionary power becomes a strategic force that raises questions about individual rights.
Critical Conclusion
The legacy of the Enlightenment encompasses the universalist aspirations of reason and the critical attitude that inspired the French Revolution. However, Kant rejected the Jacobin style of violent, dictatorial, and often bloody power during the revolution (and its aftermath). This legacy also involves a critique of the populist use of brutal power and violence, advocating instead for moral politics and political prudence. Kant’s cosmopolitan principle, with its anti-colonial stance and ethics of hospitality, stands in stark contrast to the Social Darwinian notion of “survival of the fittest.”
Accordingly, Kant is distinguished from the idea that the proletariat could exercise revolutionary justice over the dominant, yet vanquished, classes through a dictatorship—an inverted form of Social Darwinism.
Foucault’s critique of juridical power advocates for protest from below within the domination-resistance dichotomy. However, he is not fully attuned to the distinct history of Shia Islam and its epistemology within regimes of truth and lifeworld. Foucault’s genealogy of discourse and power would benefit from a more thorough exploration of the Islamic construction of reality, taking into account material interests, agency, religious bureaucracy, and power struggles within the Islamic cultural context. An analysis of power relations and their strategic orientation should aim to reveal the effective history of those on the margins, turning the spotlight on the problematic regimes that victimized them.
What is missing in Foucault’s analysis is an archaeological interpretation of the Qur’an as a source for immanent critique and emancipation, particularly in relation to the politics of recognition and the common good in governance. The Qur’an’s sympathy with human frailty (e.g., 70:20–22; 89:16–21) reshapes the concept of sharia in terms of mercy, forgiveness, and the rectification of wrongdoing. This stands in stark contrast to the biopolitical discipline and control often associated with sharia legalism, which typically emphasizes retaliation and harsh punishment.
[1] Sonn, Islam, 151.
[2] Ibid., 150.
[3] Kűng, Islam, 395-96.
[4] Cited in Sonn, Islam, 153.
[5] Al-Banna, “The New Renaissance,” Islam in Transition, 71.
[6] Ibid., 62.
[7] Eugene Rogan, The Arabs, a History (New York: Penguin, 2010), 248-50.
[8] Al-Banna, “The New Renaissance,” Islam in Transition, 59.
[9] Tariq Ramadan, Islam and the Arab Awakening (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 10l, 114.
[10] Jamal J. Elias, Islam, 47-8.
[11] Kűng, Islam, 553.
[12] A very large part of the Ninth Surah At-Tawbah (Repentance) is connected with the conditions prevailing at Medina before the Prophet’s expedition to Tabuk in the year 9 H. “They have taken their rabbis and their monks – as well as the Christ, son of Mary – for their lords beside God.” In this charge of shirk, almost all classical commentators of the Qur’an agree that only the Jews of Arabia, and not all Jews, have been accused. The Message of the Quran, trans and exp. by Muhammad Asad (Cairo: Dar al-Andalus, 1980), 363.
[13] Armstrong, Islam, 169.
[14] Kűng, Islam, 560.
[15] Bloom and Blair, Islam, 52.
[16] Jamal J. Elias, Islam, 89.
[17] Leezenberg, “Power and Political Spirituality…,” Michel Foucault and Theology: The Politics of Religious Experience, eds. J. Bernauer and J. Carrette (Burlington: Ashgate, 2004), 101.
[18] B. Ghamari-Tabrizi, Foucault in Iran: Islamic Revolution After the Enlightenment (Minnesota: University of Minnesota Press, 2016). Ch. 5.
[19] “To Eternal Peace [1795],” Basic Writings of Kant, ed. Allen W. Wood (New York: The Modern Library, 2001), 449-50.
[20] Ibid., 460-62.
[21] Cited in Leezenberg, “Power and Political Spirituality,” Michel Foucault and Theology, 107.
[22] “Confronting Governments: Human Rights,” The Essential Foucault, 64.
[23] A. Shariati, Marxism and other Western Fallacies, trans. R. Campbell (Berkeley: Mizan Press, 1980).
[24] Armstrong, Islam, 174.
[25] B. Ghamari-Tabrizi, Foucault in Iran.