To what extent can Muslims see citizenship in non-Muslim liberal democracies as religiously and morally legitimate (3, 100–101; cf. 20, 59, 272–273)? Andrew March examines particular “points of contact” between Islamic doctrine and political liberalism (7), motivated by the hope of achieving “principled moral reconciliation,” even “consensus,” between the two (4, 7). His method, which he calls one of “comparative ethics” (4–5, 67–79), is calibrated to be plausible to believing Muslims (68, 95, 96, 258, cf. 83, 192, 262, 273), and it aims to include the widest possible spectrum of Islamic commitments (14, 291 n. 40). March endorses and employs John Rawls's approach to overlapping consensus, asking whether Islamic views may be reasonable instead of trying to determine whether they are divinely ordained or true (20, 24–25, 30, 55, 62).
For those interested to engage in comparative ethics, March provides methodological principles (73, cf. 88). One should be sympathetic and sincere, avoid proof-texting, use self-restraint, and endeavor to be self-aware in exploring other doctrines (69, 71–72, 76–79). Liberals can employ arguments from conjecture, March argues, to suggest reasonable formulations within foreign doctrines, even though liberals “cannot perform exegesis” for Muslims (79, 80). The purpose is to try to identify an overlapping consensus on matters of citizenship by using the “least doctrinal revision necessary” (75, 155–157; cf. 73–74, 81–82, 189).
March notes that one can readily find, in Islamic doctrine, deep opposition even to submission to non-Muslim laws (102, 103, 107–108). The objections spring from such sources as Sayyid Qutb, Maliki and Hanbali jurists, and Salafi jihadists (106–107, 111–112, 125–126, 130, 131, 201; cf. 196–197, 198, 202, 226). What is more, residence in a non-Muslim state is frequently regarded as impermissible (111–113), March concedes, and basic civic loyalties to liberal democracy are often “considered aberrant” (114 ff., cf. 120–121). The good news is that it is difficult to find more anti-liberal sources in Islam's classical tradition (119, 121; cf. 274, 298 n. 64); and most scholars allow that Muslims may, when they are located in non-Muslim polities, form mutual contracts of security with fellow countrymen (118–119). Some Muslims provide axiomatic, anti-liberal statements about what is necessary for proper Islamic belief and practice, but March endeavors to determine how conservative a conception of Islam can endorse political liberalism's requirements of citizenship (87–90, 93, 132–133, 198, cf. 298 n. 64).
March subsequently inquires whether Muslim minorities can affirm the legitimacy of a liberal-democratic country, contribute to its general welfare, or demonstrate willingness to participate politically (136, cf. 158–159). He provides commonsense principles of loyalty (141–142; cf. 182–183), noting the principles' compatibility with civil disobedience and standard exemptions from military service (145, 149, 190–196). With regard to loyalty to a non-Muslim state, March finds favorable evidence from the Qur'an and Hadith endorsing the need to uphold “oaths, promises, and contracts” with non-Muslims (183, 184–185 ff.). And da‘wa (i.e., calling non-Muslims to Islam) supports solidarity with non-Muslims because it aims to motivate others to accept Islam “for the right reasons” (221–122, 223, 228, cf. 202). Friendship and solidarity with non-Muslims are also compatible with Islam, March maintains, as are the civic practices of charity, contributing to others’ welfare, and sacrificing for one's non-Muslim political community (229–230, 236, 237–238, 245, 248–249).
In the end, March concludes that there are “Islamic views compatible with liberal conceptions of citizenship,” emphasizing that “the most orthodox” jurisprudential sources support an overlapping consensus in that regard (263). Political liberalism's commitment to neutrality and “epistemic abstinence” assists greatly: it makes Islamic reformists' work “significantly easier,” because political liberalism does not require Muslims to make statements about the truth or falsity of any religious doctrine or way of life (236, 264–265; cf. 15, 21, 24).
March's attempt to achieve doctrinal rapprochement stands as a strong and commendable effort, not least because of the multiplicity of sources from which he draws, his skilful treatment of political theory, or March's conscientious inclusion of contrary Islamic voices and views. Naturally, many Muslims already live and participate politically in liberal democracies, enjoying bonds of solidarity with non-Muslims, displaying loyalty to their respective country, and so forth. For them, at least, it will hardly be surprising that sources within Islam support an overlapping consensus with other reasonable doctrines. But March's book is no less notable for that; and his work will be especially important for reformist Muslim scholars and academics. For March furnishes new language, ideas, and ways of thinking for Muslims, built in the idiom of political liberalism, to assist efforts to invite more conservative Muslims to affirm liberal-democratic citizenship.
That said, March's suggestion that most of his work on Islam is conjectural, and not exegetical, misstates his accomplishment (79). For a significant measure of exposition seems necessary for March's engagement: his approach carefully pinpoints more and less conservative Qur'anic passages, along with elements of Sunna and Hadith, in order to address the extent to which they may be obstacles to overlapping consensus. What is more, March presumes that pre-colonial Islamic discourses “enjoy greater orthodox credentials” than do subsequent positions, which is a point more properly expository than conjectural (81, cf. 73–74, 75, 81–82, 189). The same is true of his discussion of da‘wa, in which March asks Muslims to look to certain Meccan verses in the pre-Hijra period for guidance (214, cf. 220, 221–29, 211 ff.). This is not obviously a problem for March's argument, but matters do become trickier with his apparent endorsement of “thematic exegesis,” a method of interpretation whereby scholars examine all Islamic verses relevant to a subject “coequally” and “[all] together in their textual as well as historico-revelatory context” (198, 308 n. 6, 310 n. 36). Not only is it hard to see how this should not count as a crucial exegetical point, but March also declines to provide reasons to accept and employ thematic exegesis, which is especially notable given that various Muslims will object to that interpretive strategy.
A related concern involves the nature of the doctrine with which overlapping consensus is to be achieved. March describes Islam as a comprehensive ethical doctrine (18, 32, 52, 55, 94, 100, 132, 136, 147, 259; cf. 312 n. 8), but simultaneously suggests that there is a family of positions within Islam (131, 153), and insists furthermore that not just “one Islam” exists (59, 68; cf. 62, 84–85, 243, 249, 291 n. 31). It is unclear why one should think that Islam consists of a single comprehensive doctrine, as March variously suggests. After all, the political liberalism March endorses rightly recognizes distinctions between Catholic and Protestant comprehensive doctrines (93, 156). Political liberalism acknowledges the existence of an array of comprehensive doctrines under the rubric of Christianity, as a matter of understanding the nature of both simple and reasonable pluralism. Such distinctions matter for March's study — and for comparative ethics — because an incorrect calibration of the number of comprehensive doctrines within a broader religious tradition risks misconstruing or misestimating the extent to which overlapping consensus can be achieved. If Islam does contain multiple comprehensive doctrines, some considerably more radical or anti-liberal than others, the comparative ethicist presumably shall need to provide differential treatment to each. March's approach pilots readers to the conclusion that Islam as a whole may be seen as fairly conservative but compatible with political liberalism, and yet the argument risks missing its mark if Islam has now branched into multiple distinct comprehensive doctrines.
Finally, while March nowhere excludes the possibility of meaningful transformations to liberalism in its encounter with Islam, there is precious little by way of what, if anything, the search for an overlapping consensus might lead Islam rightly to demand by way of normative or interpretive modifications to liberalism. For that matter, it is not exactly clear, by the end of the book, why Muslims should affirm an overlapping consensus on citizenship in the first place. March is lucid on what he believes political liberalism demands of Muslim minorities (135), but he seems simply to take it that Rawls's view is right, and he swallows the Rawlsian line that political liberalism must abstain from various important claims to truth. While one may agree that political liberalism is superior to perfectionist liberal doctrines, it is unclear why advocacy of a “shared conception” of truth or virtue would suffice to make a liberal view perfectionist (265), especially if the conception at issue were one grounded in, say, cardinal principles of liberty of conscience that structure tolerant, non-perfectionist institutions for religious, and non-religious citizens alike.
None of these remarks diminish March's fine study or its accomplishments; they merely qualify them. March's book is an excellent and notable contribution to religion and politics, to the burgeoning study of comparative ethics, and to work in contemporary and future political theory.
