The Fountain: What was the role of Islamic civilization in the interim period between the ancient Greeks and the European renaissance?

Salim Ayduz: The advent of Islamic civilization was after the Indian, Chinese, Egyptian, and Greek civilizations. Muslims studied and analyzed the developments these previous civilizations had made in the sciences and technologies, and then built their own science. Islamic civilization made a brilliant analysis of the earlier ones. Muslims engaged in a fascinating translation work of many ancient books into their own languages, mostly Arabic, and occasionally Persian and Turkish. They did not remain limited to translation; they were critical of what they were translating, and drew upon the text to develop the ideas further. While they were transferring knowledge to their culture and context, they also enhanced it, corrected some mistaken views, and came up with countless new things. Because these contributions from Islamic civilization to science are not known, there is a common misconception that Muslims merely transmitted knowledge through translations.

It is claimed many works and inventions originating from Islamic civilization were adopted in Europe without acknowledgement; are there any concrete examples of this?

There are numerous examples. The most famous one is Copernicus. We see that Copernicus exactly copied scientific facts-such as the models of the moon, solar system, and some facts about the movements of the moon-from previous Muslim scientists, such as Ibn Shatir and Nasir al-Din al-Tusi, who had established the first real observatory in Maragheh, East Azerbaijan. However, Copernicus neither mentioned al-Tusi nor Ibn Shatir. Likewise, there was a person who used the name Constantine the African and died around 1099. He translated many books written by Islamic scientists and published them as if they were his own works. The scientific terminology that was used in the Renaissance period did not appear from nowhere, but was taken from the heritage of Islamic civilization, which had accumulated over centuries. It is possible to give a lot of examples of this kind, not only in philosophy but in almost all areas of life. There are number of words and terms that passed from Islamic civilization to Europe. For example, the word “arsenal” means a store of weapons. At the time, it used to denote a dock for the construction and repair of ships. Etymologically, it comes from the Arabic dar-as-sina’ah/house of industry. It first became darsana, and then darsanal. It finally passed to English as Arsenal.

It is difficult to cite a good many great scientists and great inventions in Europe before Isaac Newton. The few existing ones became prominent with a few translated works from the Islamic world. Thus, Newton made a great leap due to the developments and scientific values of Islamic civilization. As an expression of this fact, Newton said, “If I have seen further, it was by standing on the shoulders of giants.” Undoubtedly, he was referring to the Muslim scientists who had lived previously.

It was the same with Copernicus. Leonardo da Vinci, as well, made copies or more developed forms of the works previously developed by Al-Jazari, Ibn Khalaf al-Muradi, and the Banu Musa brothers. According to a recent report in The Guardian, Da Vinci’s mother was a woman of Middle East origins. Interestingly, most works from this period of Islamic civilization are found in the library of manuscripts in the Vatican. For example, there is only a single copy of Al-Muradi’s Kitab al-Asrar fi Nataij al-Afkar (Book of Secrets in the Results of Ideas), which is a very significant work in Islam’s history of technology and engineering, and that is conserved in the Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana of Florence.

So you are saying that Europe adopted the sciences produced by Islamic civilization?

Islamic civilization made great contributions to science. For example, one of the most essential subjects studied throughout the world is Algebra, which was developed by Al-Khwarizmi. His work, Al-Jabr wa al-Muqabala, is the foundation of all math textbooks in the world today.

One of the most important components of science is laboratory research and testing. But where does the tradition and system of laboratory research come from? A book published in the U.S. – Ibn al-Haytham: First Scientist – gives us the answer: Ibn al-Haytham was an Egyptian scientist who lived in the eleventh century. He invented the dark room, the antecedent of the photo camera. In addition, he is famous for making the first laboratory experiments. He made pioneering works for the laboratory systems of today. It is necessary to give everybody their due in the history of science.

What are your suggestions in this respect?

Textbooks must relate the necessary facts. It is unfair to talk about Copernicus and Kepler in the history of Astronomy but not about al-Tusi, Ibn Shatir, Taqi al-Din Rasid, and Ali Qushji. It is wrong to solely mention Newton without any reference to Abu Bakr Razi and Jabir. It is unfortunate to not find Avicenna, Ibn Nafis, and Zahrawi mentioned in the history of medicine.

History does not record any developed math prior to Muslims. People wrote on dust and made calculations by fingers. Roman numerals were not suitable at all for math. By transferring methods from Islamic civilization, Fibonacci developed the numerals, numbers, and system of formulas, and came up with modern mathematics.

As for another example, Al-Biruni was the person behind the science of mineralogy. He was one of the people who scientifically proved, for the first time, that the world is round and is turning.

And today these scientists are being uncovered in the West?

Yes. Ironically in the West, rather than in the East where they are faded into oblivion. For example, Ali Qushji lived in Istanbul and was one of the chief architects of Ottoman science. He was the scientist who proved, in terms of physics, that the moon is round and the world is rotating around its own axis. The West has newly begun to discover Ali Qushji.

How about the later periods? Is it possible to count other such names?

Within the last century there are numerous examples, such as Hulusi Behçet, the person who described Behcet’s disease first. I wrote an article on two innovative Sufi sheikhs. One of them is Ethem Effendi, who was the sheikh of the Sufi lodge of the Uzbeks in Istanbul and lived during the time of Sultan Abdul Hamid II. He invented a single-piston engine and some other tools. All of them are preserved today in the same Sufi lodge. The other is Tevfik Effendi, one of the greatest math researchers. His book named Linear Algebra was published in English in 1872 in Istanbul.

There are many important scientists who merit attention. While talking about mathematics, it is necessary to mention the names of Al-Khwarizmi, Abdul Hamid ibn al-Turk, Mustafa Sidqi, and Matrakçı Nasuh. Most people have never heard their names. Teachers should mention their names in certain contexts. Or they should talk about Jabir ibn Hayyan, when talking about chemistry. Most of these were founders of a discipline, and you do not found a discipline everyday! Just as Jabir ibn Hayyan was the founder of chemistry, Ibn Khaldun was the pioneer of sociology.

Only people like the cartographer captain, Piri Reis, are known to some extent, thanks to UNESCO and some media coverage about him. Islands, mountains, and regions that appeared on his world map were discovered by Europeans three centuries after he drew this world map. We still have not discovered the secret of the Piri Reis’ maps.

It seems that what we know about the history of science needs a good deal of revision.

There were very important masters of firearms technology, who produced weapons, gunpowder, and cannons. Some of them developed the first rockets, but there is not even a decent museum to display such works. The same goes for architecture, but fortunately, it is possible to see many of the works at least. The great architectural genius Sinan constructed 477 buildings. Look at Süleymaniye Mosque in Istanbul. It is still standing firm despite many earthquakes over five centuries. How did he achieve it?

What was the factor that brought about the period of decline? Was it simply laziness, a change of regime, or lack of means?

Actually, it is not possible to explain everything with a single reason. On the one hand, there was political and, more importantly, economic decline. The most important incentive behind the scientific developments in the West was prosperity. Most scientists were from aristocratic families. They collected important manuscripts of Islamic civilization without any financial problems. Then they locked themselves in their homes and studied for days. On the other hand, there were the financial gains from newly discovered lands, which facilitated the process. New inventions triggered further developments.

Is there sufficient financial support for this field in Muslim countries?

It is a bit difficult to say. When you suggest a project as a scientist, the budget they provide is so low in comparison to those in Europe. Let me give a simple example. Ptolemy has an essential work in the field of geography, titled Almagest. It is the most important historical work on geography, astronomy, space science, and cosmology. It was a work from which Muslim scientists greatly benefited. In the 9th century, it was translated into Arabic. The original copy is lost. The budget allocated to a European scientist who would unearth all translated versions of this work to rebuild the original was five million euros. It is almost impossible in Muslim countries to get high amounts to unearth a single manuscript.

Before Britain, you used to work in Turkey. Are there any such manuscripts that call for research?

There are thousands of manuscripts left to oblivion in libraries. Each of them is precious like a diamond, but it is unreasonably difficult to approach them. There has been press coverage about the condition of the manuscripts in the Topkapi Palace. They were almost left to decay. It is one of the most valuable libraries in the world and they kept it closed for more than five years. Now you need to have an appointment to enter and there are different obstacles for researchers. They have opened an establishment for manuscripts. We are trying to publish here a facsimile of a work whose original is found in Topkapi Palace. They insisted for nine months that they wouldn’t give us a copy of the work. Similarly, it took me six months to receive the copyright payment of a project about the Piri Reis map, which will be published by Oxford University. Authorities have to facilitate easy access to these archives and manuscripts for researchers to be able to uncover the treasures of the past, possibly in digital format via the Internet.

It is said that some manuscripts were destroyed or smuggled abroad within the last century. Do you have any knowledge about this?

We hear every now and then that manuscripts are taken to countries where they are sold for higher prices. This has been a serious problem for many years. When they are not appreciated at home, it almost becomes inevitable for them to be taken abroad. Some works taken abroad and bought for personal libraries disappear for good. However, some, particularly the works that reach libraries in Europe and the U.S., are preserved well and it is easy to study these works. In addition, there are antiques trading companies in the West. For example, I contacted an establishment named Sam Fogg in order to see a manuscript in their possession. They invited me right away and gave me the opportunity to study. When I went there, I saw that hundreds, maybe thousands, of works of Islamic civilization were awaiting sale. The bitter fact is that they are not accessible once they’re sold to personal libraries. I wish it were possible to get a digital copy of such works before they are sold.

What are your opinions about a history of science curriculum?

Instead of teaching history of science as a separate subject, I think it will be more appropriate to refer to these scientists during the normal course of a given subject. If you ask students of medicine what they learned about Ibn Sina (Avicenna), their answer will most probably be “nothing.” Until the 1800s, Avicenna’s work al-Qanun was studied by European medical faculties as an essential course book; in the East and West alike, nobody could become a doctor without studying al-Qanun.

Another great figure, Şerafettin Sabuncuoglu, is completely unknown. He was a surgeon who lived during the time of Mehmed II. He was the scientist who wrote the first illustrated book of surgery in the world. He showed methods of surgery and how to use surgery tools. Incidentally, let me note that there were female surgeons as well, which is wonderful.

Another surgeon, Zahrawi of Andalusia, invented nearly 200 surgical tools, almost all of which reached our time and are still being used in hospitals.

Who was the greatest scientist of the Ottomans in your opinion?

I’d say Taqi al-Din Rasid, without hesitation. In the 1570s, he founded an observatory in Istanbul, which I think was the most remarkable observatory of all Islamic civilization. He made very important contributions, through books he wrote, to such disciplines as mathematics and astronomy. He invented a water pump with six cylinders. Nobody knows today about the observatory he established in Taksim. He made astronomical observatories from the Galata Tower for many years.

During the academic year of 1991-92, I had the opportunity to spend a sabbatical year in Paris. During that time, my wife Adele and I were surprised to notice intense activity, in the form of books, conferences, and symposia, on the theme of “Science and Faith,” with the purpose of bringing them together after a long time of separation and antagonism. Significantly, this attempt toward reconciliation was beginning in France, the country that so much contributed to the dichotomy between the two in the first place.

Three books figure prominently in my present discussion about science and faith. The first, the best-selling God and Science,¹ consists of a dialogue between J. Guitton, a highly respected Catholic philosopher and a well-known member of the French National Academy, and Grichka and Igor Bogdanov, young scientists whose fields of research are in astrophysics. In the dialogue between Guitton and the Bogdanov brothers, the scientists answer the questions posed by the philosopher about the laws governing the natural world. Intriguing questions are addressed: “Where the universe came from? What is real? What are the relationships between conscience and matter? Why does anything exist at all?” In every instance the philosopher, who is also a believer in God and in the Bible, finds that the answers he receives from science give him comfort and strength in his faith. He finds no contradiction between the two; on the contrary, everything he hears about science strengthens his faith.

A collection of essays edited by Jean Delumeau, Le Savant et la Foi,² presents a similar theme. It consists of nineteen contributions from scientists, some of them highly reputed, who explain, in often touching terms, how they reconcile their faith with their scientific research. One of the essays is the result of a collaboration among some twenty scientists affiliated with the University of Paris-Sud (Orsay, Gif, Saclay, etc.), who hold monthly meetings to discuss issues of science and faith in relationship to their research.

A third book that attests to this renewed interest in the relationship between science and faith is another collection of essays, Can Scientists Believe?,³ written by scientists from different religious traditions and edited by Sir Neville Mott, winner of the Nobel Prize for physics in 1977. In this book, Mott himself explains how he became a Christian at the age of fifty, when, as head of the Cavendish Laboratory at Cambridge, in England, he was invited by the vicar of the university church to join other leading scientists in contributing to a lecture series there about science and religion. Being agnostic, he felt a need to do some reading before discussing something about which he knew very little, and this was the beginning of his conversion.

In January 1992, the Catholic newspaper La Croix organized its second conference on “Science and Faith,” a day-long conference which took place in a theater in Paris and was widely attended. Among the participants were scientists, theologians, historians, and philosophers, representing all the major religious traditions, and it included atheists of good will, who were open to dialogue. Some of the participants were people of high professional standing, members of the French Academy. The opening addresses were delivered by Cardinal Jean-Marie Lustiger, Archbishop of Paris, and Professor Hubert Curien, minister in the French government for scientific research.

The recurrent theme of all the contributions at the conference was “Scientism is dead.” In order to understand the significance of that pronouncement in the context of our discussion of spirituality and postmodernism, we must consider the historical development of science.

Modern science and Determinism

In the ancient and medieval worlds, science and religion were part of the same cultural heritage; one was unthinkable without the other. What happened later to cause the schism between them?

The story is well-known. Modern science developed in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, with Francis Bacon (1561-1626) and Galileo Galilei (1564-1642), in the aftermath of a great period, the Italian Renaissance, during which attention shifted from God to humankind, from the supernatural to the natural.

Toward the end of the nineteenth century, which saw such technological advances as electricity and the steam engine, which made such a deep impact in the life of the Western world, confidence in science was unlimited. There was a general feeling that science would ultimately solve all the problems of society and the human condition. Suffering, diseases, poverty-all these evils would sooner or later be eliminated by science and technology. There was no place for God. Human reason could reach the ultimate truth without the need of a supernatural power.

In philosophy these ideas culminated in schools of thought such as logical positivism, in which there was no room for a transcendent superior being. All these schools of thought are usually referred to under the general name of “scientism.” When, therefore, H. Curien, and the other participants in the 1992 conference in Paris, boldly declared the “death of scientism,” they marked the end of a whole historical development and celebrated the present, post-modern period in science.

The new science: causality and probability

In the beginning of the twenty-first century we are more ready to recognize humbly that science has its own limitations and cannot cure all the evils of our human condition. This altered perception of science has been fostered by the advent of the so-called new science, which developed during the third decade of the last century. Quantum Mechanics has revolutionized the way people think about the natural world. In the atomic and nuclear realm the deterministic model, advanced by Laplace in his System of the World, was no longer valid. Certainty had to be replaced by the notion of probability; the whole principle of causality had to be questioned and revised. For example, the notion of “orbit,” perfectly valid when describing the motion of the earth around the sun, became meaningless in the new theory, which was designed to describe the properties of a negative electron moving around a positive nucleus. A well-defined trajectory was replaced by a “probability cloud.”

As these examples indicate, our ability to grasp reality is limited. Waves and particles are different descriptions of the same reality, which we are not able to define in absolute terms, as was once claimed by the deterministic science of the nineteenth century. At this point we realize that we must give up the idea of grasping “the thing in itself.” All this does not mean that the old, deterministic science was wrong, but only that it was correct under certain approximations, which are not valid in the micro-world of atoms and nuclei.

The healthy effect of this great revolution, brought about by the advent of the new science and Quantum Mechanics, has been to shake the arrogance of those who believed that everything could be predicted, once the initial conditions of the system were known, and to introduce an element of chance. We might say, in different words, that there is a place for God in the new scheme of ideas.

Einstein’s unenthusiastic response to Quantum Mechanics shows that he clearly perceived the “place for God” at the very heart of things. In the early stage of development of the new physics, he wrote to Niels Bohr: “Quantum Mechanics is very impressive. But an inner voice tells me that it is not yet the real thing. The theory produces a good deal, but hardly brings us close to the secret of the Old One. I am at all events convinced that He does not play dice.”⁴

Einstein’s letters and essays are famous for their many references to God. Although he did not have a religious affiliation and shunned all forms of organized religion, Einstein the scientist had a firm belief in God. Forty years before the 1992 conference in Paris declared the “death of scientism,” Einstein had come to this same conclusion, as shown in a letter to his dear friend Solovine⁵:

“You find it strange that I consider the comprehensibility of the world (to the extent that we are authorized to speak of such comprehensibility) as a miracle or as an eternal mystery. Well, a priori one should expect a chaotic world which cannot be grasped by the mind in any way… There lies the weakness of positivists and professional atheists who are elated because they feel that they have not only successfully rid the world of gods, but also “bared the miracles.” Oddly enough, we must be satisfied to acknowledge the “miracle” without there being any legitimate way for us to approach it.”

As an example of the “new scientist,” Einstein rejects a science without faith, without belief in the “miracle” that remains “unapproachable” and “mysterious.” Perhaps the best description of Einstein’s attitude toward religion appears on the back of the dedication page in a recent biography: “Science without religion is lame, religion without science is blind,”⁶ as Einstein once wrote to explain his personal creed.

Given the death of scientism, the discoveries of Quantum Mechanics, and the obvious connection between faith and science in the life and work of men like Einstein, it is now possible to write a revised history of western science based not on the split between religious belief and scientific research, but on their intimate connection. We can view science and religion as two approaches, different but complementary, to the same reality. In fact, there has never been a good reason for an opposition between science and religion; they are not incompatible in their views of the natural world.

Awe and excitement in science and religion

Many scientists, then, have been and are believers. The question then arises: what do science and religion have in common, so that realms previously thought to be mutually exclusive can now be seen as intimately linked? We may point to three elements common to both science and faith: the belief in things unseen, the awe and excitement of discovery, and the goal of service to others. First, the belief in things unseen. It is said of Einstein that he was a religious person… in the sense that he [had] no doubt of the significance of those super-personal goals which neither require nor are capable of rational foundation. His was not a life of prayer or worship. Yet he lived by a deep faith […] that there are laws of Nature to be discovered. His lifelong pursuit was to discover them. His realism and optimism are illuminated by his remark: “Subtle is the Lord, but malicious He is not.”⁷

One aspect that links science and religion, and characterizes a scientist’s spirituality, is the feeling of excitement, the thrill that both scientists and believers experience when confronted with a new facet of the truth that lies beyond the boundary presently accepted as the ultimate limit of their knowledge. As John Polkinghorne, a British professor of theoretical particle physics at Cambridge University and now an Anglican priest, one of the speakers at the 1992 conference, observes, “Part of the authentic experience of a scientist is the feeling of astonishment he or she experiences when contemplating the remarkable rational beauty of the physical world, as it unfolds in his/her research.”⁸

The eminent physicist, Isidor Isaac Rabi (1989-1991), who was honored with the Nobel Prize in 1944, bears witness to the religious dimension of this experience of astonishment: “When I discovered physics, I realized it transcended religion. It was the higher truth. It filled me with awe, put me in touch with a sense of original causes. Physics brought me close to God. That feeling stayed with me throughout my years in science. Whenever one of my students came to me with a scientific project, I asked only one question, “Will it bring you nearer to God?” They always understood what I meant.”⁹

At the time, Rabi himself had no particular religious affiliation, except for his background, which was strongly rooted in Orthodox Judaism. According to his own testimony, his upbringing in a household where the holy books of the Bible were familiar readings, gave him a definite spiritual formation that affected his attitude toward science: “To choose physics in the first place requires a certain direction of interest. In my case it was something that goes to my background, and that is religious in origin. Not religion in a secular way, but religion as the inspirer of a way of looking at things. Choosing physics means, in some way, you’re not going to choose trivialities. The whole idea of God, that’s real class… real drama. When you’re doing good physics, you are wrestling with the Champ. You have one life to do it, you don’t want to waste it.”¹⁰

Like Rabi, who moved “nearer to God” through scientific research and discovery, Xavier Le Pichon, a speaker in the 1992 conference and a professor of oceanography and geophysics at the prestigious Collège de France, speaks of his amazing encounters with the God of nature. A member of the French National Academy of Sciences, he has been exploring the bottom of the oceans for the past thirty years. Those underwater explorations have, as he says, awakened his “capacity for adoration”: “I have often experienced this capacity for adoration during my scientific explorations. I think in particular of my first descent in a submarine in the Rift Valley, in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, at a depth of ten thousand feet… In our little boat, we are the first people to discover this scenery reminiscent of Genesis, the virgin crust, produced by the marriage between fire and earth. I had an appointment with the Earth so that I could make an offering to God.”¹¹

The same sentiments are expressed by another one of our speakers, Fr. George Coyne, Director of the Vatican Observatory in Castel Gandolfo and at the University of Arizona. I quote: “My scientific exploration and slow understanding of the universe is a prayer, and one that is drawing me into a deeper relationship with God. My understanding of the universe, with faith as a foundation of my life, is being drawn into the mystery of God. And this is why we’ll never fully understand our universe: while the scientific knowledge draws us on and on, the more we know, the less we know in many ways. The universe participates in the mystery of God.”¹²

Recently, in an article on the New York Times, the Dalai Lama, speaking about the convergence of science and spirituality, said, “Science could benefit from exploring issues usually left to the humanities. I believe that we must find a way to bear upon the direction of scientific development, especially in the life sciences. I am speaking of a secular ethics, which embraces compassion, tolerance, consideration of others, the responsible use of knowledge and power. These principles transcend the barriers between religious believers and non-believers: they belong not to one faith, but to all faiths.”

Those sentiments are echoed by Xavier Le Pichon, who said: “Science and technology are not only necessary, they are indeed the main tools needed to perfect the creation entrusted to humankind by God. To the extent we place the poor and the least ones at the center of our society, to the extent we ask them to inspire the civilization we are about to build, science and technology will appear as means offered in order to create a civilization of love.”¹³

So, perhaps, the “battle” between Science and Religious Faith is not so polarized as some of those at the extreme edges of the debate would have us to believe.

“In this modern era of cosmology, evolution, and the human genome, is there still the possibility of a richly satisfying harmony between the scientific and spiritual world views?”¹⁴

Dr. Francis Collins, author of the best selling book The Language of God: A Scientist Presents Evidence for Belief, and Director of the National Genome Research Institute, responded with a resounding “Yes” to this question, in his public lecture on February 20, 2007, at Purdue University.14 To an enthusiastic crowd of more than 1,100 participants, Dr. Collins stated that “The newfound power to read our own instruction book is no obstacle to faith in the existence of God.” Dr. Collins called for a truce in the escalating war between science and spirit. “We need science if we are going to survive in a complicated world, and we need faith if we are going to keep ourselves in perspective. We must seek out the ways in which these world views can happily coexist, and the mind must find a way to embrace both realms, if we are really concerned about our own future in this world.” Everyone who questions how religious faith would be reconciled with scientific knowledge, and everyone interested in an open and sincere discussion of one of the most crucial issues of our time, will be greatly enlightened by Dr. Collins’ experience described in his book “The Language of God.”

Roberto Colella is a professor of physics at Purdue University, West Lafayette, IN.

Notes

1. Guitton, Jean, Grichka Bogdanov, and Igor Bogdanov. Dieu et la Science, Grasset. 1991.

2. Delumeau, Jean (edited by). Le Savant el La Foi, Champs-Flammarion, Paris 1989; p. 230 (translated from French by Roberto Colella).

3. Molt, Sir Nevill (edited by). Can Scientists Believe? James and James, London, 1991, p. 71.

4. Pais, Abraham. Niels Bohr’s Times, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1991, p. 318.

5. Einstein, Albert. Letters to Solovine, New York Philosophical Library, 1987, p. 131.

6. Einstein, Albert. “Science, Philosophy and Religion: A Symposium.” 1941.

7. Pais, Abraham. Subtle is the Lord… The Science and Life of Albert Einstein, Clarendon Press, Oxford, New York, 1982, p. vi.

8. Lecture on “Science and Religious Faith,” Purdue University, February 27, 1997.

9. Ridgen, John S.. Rabi, Scientist and Citizen, Basic Books Publishers, New York, 1987, p. 82.

10. See Ref. 8, p.p. 73-79.

11. See Ref. 2, p. 166.

12. Public Lecture at Purdue University, April 2, 1998.

13. See Delumeau 1989, p. 168.

14. Collins, Francis, The Language of God: A Scientist Presents Evidence for Belief, Free Press, New York, London, 2006.

The author describes Ibn al-Haytham’s life in chronological order, with the last chapter concentrating on the occurrences after his death and how his contributions were inherited by especially Western scientists. He starts the book by describing the environment in and around Basra, a city in the south of what is now Iraq, where Ibn al-Haytham was born in 965 AD. After narrating the story of the spread of Islam in the region, the author indicates that the Muslims showed great interest in the knowledge of their subjects:

“The thirst for knowledge was partly from the religious philosophy of Islam. The Qur’an says: ‘Those who remember Allah [God]…reflect on the creation of the heavens and the earth.’ Prophet Muhammad says: ‘Seeking knowledge is a duty upon every Muslim.’”

The first chapter “Boyhood in Basra” continues with Muslims’ interest in the writings of ancient Greeks, especially Caliph al-Ma’mun and his founding of Bait-ul-Hikmat, or the “House of Wisdom,” a center dedicated to the study and translation of books. The author notes the fact that Muslims did not merely collect and translate the works of other cultures, but absorbed the material and added to it, making it their own. He adds, “This was true not only in literature, but also in science and mathematics. Muslim advances in these areas changed the course of human history.” The mathematical breakthrough of the invention of the number zero by al-Khwarizmi and Abu Kamil’s contributions to advanced algebra are mentioned.

The first chapter ends with a description of the education system in the 10th century Middle East. Many books, translations and original works, found their place in libraries, sometimes attached to mosques. Ibn al-Haytham’s early education took place at the mosque of Basra. The tradition was that every teacher would take up a position by a pillar while the students sat on the floor in a semicircle around him. Munazarah, or debates, were required of every student, where students were posed controversial and difficult questions. The winner was determined according to the thoroughness of the student’s answer and soundness of his logic. Some teachers required students to produce copies of the books, as books were difficult to reproduce. While in the mosques religion, literature, grammar, and rhetoric were taught, the sciences were taught generally in the private homes of amateur scholars. Ibn al-Haytham first studied theology, Qur’an, Hadith (a collection of Prophet Muhammad’s sayings), and law.

The author quotes Ibn al-Haytham explaining why he was inspired to study philosophy and science: “I decided to discover what it is that brings us closer to God, what pleases Him most, and what makes us submissive to His ineluctable Will.” Steffens describes Sunnah and Shi’ite theologies, as the disagreements between Muslim sects troubled young Ibn al-Haytham. He realized that if one belief was true, then a conflicting belief could not be true. False beliefs were dangerous, he reasoned, as they obscured the truth and led believers away from God. After studying various belief systems in depth, he concluded that, in his words, “whatever differences exist between them are based not on the basic tenets of faith or the Ultimate Reality but on sociological content.” In his autobiography Ibn Haytham later wrote, “I studied in considerable detail the beliefs of various sects, thoughts, and theological systems, but I failed to gain anything which could point the way to Reality.” When Ibn al-Haytham discovered the works of Aristotle, he decided to examine the works of God in the universe, rather than studying the words of men. He not only wrote summaries for Aristotle’s works, but also commentaries. He also studied mathematics by Euclid as well as Ptolemy and Archimedes.

The author quotes from Qaysar that Ibn al-Haytham thought about resigning from the government office he was appointed to because of his love of pure learning. This was almost impossible, however, as resignation would have insulted the person who appointed him. He could not run away as this would bring dishonor to his family. According to Qaysar, Ibn al-Haytham pretended to be insane. The author makes a very detailed analysis of what may have actually happened by examining Ibn al-Haytham’s character and the claim that he misleads government officials by playing insane. The author writes, “This behavior seems incongruous with what is known of Ibn al-Haytham’s character and his commitment to Islam, which condemns lying.” He concludes, “Real or fake, Ibn al-Haytham’s mental breakdown allowed him to escape the drudgery of his government job.”

The book then concentrates on how Ibn-al Haytham traveled to Egypt, where he would make most of his contributions to science and especially optics. His invention of the camera obscura (the pinhole camera), his correct description of vision occurring when light rays enter the eye and stimulate the optic nerve, the fact that light travels in straight rays, and radiates from every point on a luminous object in all directions are all mentioned, along with some errors in his famous book Kitab al-Manazir (The Book of Optics). Most importantly, the author goes into great detail about how Ibn al-Haytham performed his research to arrive at these conclusions. Because Ibn al-Haytham established and used the scientific method as we know it today, it becomes apparent why the author calls him the first scientist. The author includes striking examples with diagrams and pictures demonstrating Ibn al Haytham’s experiments.

In his late life, Ibn al-Haytham supported himself by copying manuscripts, as well as teaching in Cairo. The author reports a story from al-Bayhaqi: “Ibn al-Haytham agreed to tutor a Syrian nobleman, Surkhab, but demanded one hundred dinars a month for payment. The price was high, but Surkhab did not hesitate to pay the fee. For years the Syrian studied with Ibn al-Haytham. At the end of his time, his education complete, Surkhab bid his tutor farewell. Ibn al-Haytham asked the nobleman to wait a moment. ‘You deserve this money all the more,’ Ibn al-Haytham said, returning all 3,600 dinars to Surkhab, ‘since I just wished to test your sincerity and, when I saw that for the sake of learning you cared little for money, I devoted full attention towards your education. Do remember that, in any righteous cause, it is not good to accept a return, a bribe, or a gift.”

In chapter six, the author gives a list of Ibn al-Haytham’s books (about 182 according to Ibn Abi Usaybi’ah), and ends the chapter with a possible journey back to Basra, or a continued stay in Cairo with Ibn al-Haytham’s return to God around 1040 AD. Steffens writes, “He turned towards the Ka’aba, and recited a verse from the Qur’an: ‘Verily my return is to You; I rely upon You and turn unto You.’”

The author ends his book by giving an account of occurrences after Ibn al-Haytham’s death, such as the reason why many works by Ibn Haytham went missing, and how his contributions transferred to Europe. As interest in pure science waned in the Muslim world, the opposite was happening in Europe, the author writes. After giving an account of how Christians in Europe viewed science, he talks about the role of Andalus (current-day Spain) in disseminating knowledge in the Muslim World towards Europe. Also a translator in Toledo translated Ibn al-Haytham’s Kitab al-Manazir, and titled the book De aspectibus, or The Optics. He called the author Alhacen, a Latinized form of al-Hasan. De aspectibus fascinated European scholars. The last chapter recounts how Roger Bacon, a Franciscan monk, wrote Perspectiva, a book on optics based largely on Ibn al-Haytham’s work. One important analysis Steffens makes is very significant:

“Although Roger Bacon acknowledged his debt to Ibn al-Haytham in the field of optics, he did not give the Iraqi scholar credit for having developed the method of inquiry that he strongly advanced. Instead, Bacon praised Peter Peregrinus, a French scholar he met while he was in Paris, as the master of experiments.”

The author explains the reasons behind this by taking a very careful historian’s approach:

“Bacon may have credited Peregrinus over Ibn al-Haytham for pioneering the experimental method because he knew the Frenchman personally and revered his work. Another motive may have been the fact that both Bacon and Peregrinus were devout Christians at a time when Muslims and Christians were fighting for control of Jerusalem and the areas around it in a series of wars known as Crusades. Bacon was a member of the clergy and Peregrinus even fought in one of the Crusades himself. Because of these ongoing conflicts, Bacon may have felt that attaching a Muslim scholar’s name to the scientific method may have slowed down its acceptance among the Christians.”

The book also includes many colorful illustrations from the pages of history relevant to understanding Ibn al-Haytham’s life and his contributions to science. The timeline at the end is very informative. Finally, it has sources, a bibliography, and web pages, which direct the interested reader to further information. I congratulate Bradley Steffens for his beautiful work about Ibn al-Haytham and his advancement of experimental science. I end with the last quotation of the book from Ibn al-Haytham which acts as a general guide for all serious scientists: “The seeker after truth is not one who studies the writings of the ancients and, following his natural disposition, puts his trust in them, but rather the one who suspects his faith in them and questions what he gathers from them, the one who submits to argument and demonstration, and not the sayings of a human being whose nature is fraught with all kinds of imperfection and deficiency. Thus the job of the man who investigates the writings of scientist, if learning the truth is his goal, is to make himself an enemy of all that he reads, and applying his mind to the core and margins of its content, attack it from every side. He should also suspect himself as he performs his critical examination of it, so that he may avoid falling into either prejudice or leniency.”