Fanaticism raises subtle questions for all people of faith. People of faith are proud of the strength of their religious convictions, but so is the fanatic. What, then, sets a person of faith apart from a fanatic?
This question becomes particularly relevant in the context of terrorism, as one could pose a similar question about terrorism. The State uses violence to combat terrorism, but the terrorist also uses violence against the State. So what is the difference between the two?
All of us feel uneasy with an equation of this kind but Dharma teaches us to think clearly about an issue, in order to feel clearly about it. The State has a monopoly, in a country, on the use of violent force, which is supervised by a democratically elected government. Such moral and legal supervision is lacking in the case of a fanatic, and that is why the apparent equation is misleading.
The difference between faith and fanaticism runs along similar lines. Fanaticism results from being blinded by the intensity of the luminosity of one’s own religious tradition, by standing too close to it, instead of seeing the whole world transfigured in its light. The person of faith also stands close to his or her tradition but lives in light and not in darkness because, unlike the fanatic, the person realises that faith, almost by definition, is faith in things unseen.
When we say we have faith in God, we also acknowledge that we cannot quite really know the whole of God.
Some would even say we cannot know God at all, but we can relax that position and say that we can know God in some ways. But most will acknowledge, even the most faithful, that we can only know God as we relate to God, not to God as God.
Right there we have a built-in check, which prevents honest and profound faith from degenerating into fanaticism, because fanaticism presumes to know the will of God. It is strange that sometimes religions tend to believe that they have a monopoly on God. That’s where fanaticism comes in. Were they to examine the concepts of God in their own traditions, they will discover that the traditions insist that one cannot know God fully.
Allow me to elaborate this point with an example from Islam, since some members of this tradition have been associated with many acts of terrorism in recent times. The fanatic member of this tradition inveighs against the infidel. In order to identify someone as an infidel, however, one would need to know who a true Muslim is. At this point a key distinction in Islam, between a legal and theological concept of a Muslim, becomes crucial.
According to Islamic law, any person who recites the Islamic confession of faith, in good faith and in the presence of witnesses, must be accepted as a Muslim, and may not be denied access to a gathering of Muslims. He or she may not observe all the obligations of being a Muslim, such as performing the five prayers daily and so on, but that only means that the person is not a good Muslim. It cannot mean that she is not a Muslim.
Thus, while the distinction between a Muslim and a non-Muslim is fairly clear in legal terms, the theological understanding of who is a Muslim is much more subtle. Whether one is a true Muslim or not is known only to God, and will be revealed in the presence of God on the Day of Judgement.
Perhaps a distinction needs to be drawn between truth and certainty also. Often, when we think we are seeking truth, we are really seeking certainty. Therein lies a great potential for fanaticism to arise in a faith, because, when one arrives at a conclusion one begins to feel absolutely certain about it. But the genuine seeker after truth realises that we ourselves cannot know everything conclusively, because we cannot know God fully. Admittedly, there is a discomfort involved here. But if we can live with it, and all genuine faith recognises that we have to, then we have a built-in check against fanaticism within faith itself.
Another distinction gains importance in this context. It has to do with the difference between a person of faith, and a fanatic, on one’s attitude towards people of other faiths. This is where the Dharmic perspective becomes important. If we are certain that the people of other faiths are condemned, and we abide only by the ‘legal’ conception of one’s identity, then we have no purchase over spirituality.
If, however, we realise that only God can pronounce such a judgement, and not mere human beings, then, as people of faith, it might be easier for us to understand that there are other people who are also people of faith like us. If we deny them their right to faith, then in a sense we are questioning our own faith, or at least our humanity. When you become a fanatic, then, in a sense, you start playing God, instead of worshiping God.
Passion blinds. Even religious or moral passion blinds.
The author, formerly of the IAS, is the Birks Professor of Comparative Religion at McGill University in Montreal Canada, where he has taught for over thirty years. He has also taught in Australia and the United States and at Nalanda University in India. He has published extensively in the fields of Indian religions and world religions. Views expressed are personal.
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