According to a popular exegetical trend, the Qur’ān contains scientific notions, described with amazing accuracy despite the fact that those very notions were completely unexplored in the Prophet's time: such presence is thus a sign of the text's divine origin. This trend, which has antecedents in the nineteenth century, was popularized by the works of a French author, Maurice Bucaille (1920–1998), and currently flourishes on the Internet as well as in TV programs. The line of interpretation it follows reformulates the traditional doctrine of the formal inimitability of the Qur’ān (iʿjāz) in terms of “scientific inimitability” or “scientific miraculousness” (iʿjāz ʿilmī). The same line is sometimes extended to the hadith (the literature reporting statements of the Prophet expressing his views on various matters). Frequent reference to natural phenomena in the Qur’ān is a fact. On the one hand, the producers of such line of interpretation (usually lacking formal theological training) express a genuine and, from a confessional viewpoint, laudable desire to harmonize religion and science. On the other hand, their efforts present major methodological flaws as well as blatant mistakes and have accordingly been criticized.

This study has a threefold ambition. First, it offers a detailed overview of iʿjāzʿilmī, whose sub‐genera are identified and analyzed, as well as the criticisms leveled at it. Second, it refines the analysis of iʿjāz ʿilmī by showing its strong family resemblances and ties with conspiracism. Conspiracism is broadly defined as the contemporary sub‐culture aimed at the identification and discussion of occult and sinister agents that allegedly bring about major historical events or social trends and at the same time create gigantic cover‐ups in order to hide their very agency. It is shown that conspiracist authors rely on, and encourage, a flawed style of argumentation as well as the miscommunication of science in a way that is strongly reminiscent of iʿjāz ʿilmī. It is shown as well that iʿjāz ʿilmī, pushed to its extreme consequences, entails conspiracist thinking. The joint study of the two phenomena is unprecedented in scholarly literature. Finally, the article suggests educational strategies to critically address iʿjāz ʿilmī by siding with teachers who are interested in the harmonization of Islam/religion and science as well as the communication of the scientific method proper. Such strategies are also identified by drawing upon the suggestions of scholars and educators who study and oppose conspiracism. In other words, the author is writing from two integrated perspectives. The first viewpoint is that of a scholar interested in a deeper understanding of iʿjāz ʿilmī. The second one is that of an educator who, respecting the need to integrate science and religion, also wants to teach that natural science is the construction of knowledge about the natural world through repeatable experiments, mathematical models, and acceptance of results after peer review.

The first section traces a taxonomy of iʿjāz ʿilmī with a particular focus on material that can currently be located on the Internet. The second section summarizes different lines of criticism of iʿjāz ʿilmī. The third section makes a diversion in order to describe the essential features of conspiracism. The fourth section examines how iʿjāz ʿilmī overlaps and merges with conspiracism. The fifth section draws the critical conclusions and contains some suggestions concerning how to address iʿjāz ʿilmī.

ONE OR MANY SCIENTIFIC MIRACLES?

Classically, the term iʿjāz indicates the “invalidation of a challenge,” the impossibility of imitating the Qur’ān as to its content and form. In other words, the term refers to the theological doctrine according to which a sign of the divinity of the Qur’ān is its incomparability or impossibility to be replicated; the like of the Qur’ān could not be produced even in a joint effort by human beings and supernatural ones. This teaching is rooted in Qur’ānic passages such as 17:88: “Say, ‘if mankind and the jinn gathered in order to produce the like of this Qur’ān, they could not produce the like of it, even if they were to each other assistants.’”

In the contemporary debate over Islam and science, iʿjāz is mainly used as a short form for iʿjāz ʿilmī. The adjective ʿilmī derives from the noun ʿilm that broadly refers to knowledge and can be interpreted as specifically referring to natural science. The expression iʿjāz ʿilmī can thus be translated as “scientific miracle” (or “scientific miraculousness”) of the Qur’ān. It denotes an exegetical trend rather than a specific theological teaching. From now on I will use such expressions interchangeably.

In the iʿjāz ʿilmī the traditional doctrine of the inimitability of the Qur’ān is reformulated in terms of “scientific inimitability.” In other words, the exegetes who uphold and produce iʿjāz ʿilmī identify a correspondence between some passage of the Qur’ān and “scientific data” or “facts” to argue that such correspondence is proof of the divine origin of the Qur’ān itself. The basic line of the argument is that, given that such accuracy (or the specific piece of information) could not be available to (or achieved by) either the Prophet or the scientifically best‐informed people at the time of the revelation, the text clearly must have divine origin. A “scientific miracle” therefore is not a supernatural deed (an example of a supernatural miracle can be Moses’ or his brother Aaron's staff turning into a snake, mentioned both in the Old Testament and in the Qur’ān) but the structure of the argumentation with which “scientific” and supernatural miracles are illustrated is analogous. In both cases it is about an extraordinary, amazing occurrence (cf. the etymology of the term miracle, Latin mirari “to be amazed”) that cannot or could not be performed (nor repeated) by human beings alone, and whose occurrence implies or demonstrates the existence and power of divinity.

By “occurrence” one should understand in this context the match between a Qur’ānic passage and “scientific information” and not the specific content of the “scientific information” per se. In other words, the “scientific miracle” of the Qur’ān is not aimed at the description of natural phenomena as miracles of God (albeit this kind of statement is also present at various levels of the debate over Islam and science, including iʿjāz). It should also be emphasized that iʿjāz ʿilmī is not an attempt at explaining miraculous narratives as natural processes either (e.g., arguing that the parting of the Red Sea was a natural albeit extraordinary or unique hydrogeological phenomenon). Furthermore, iʿjāz ʿilmī is not a theory according to which a scientist who is confronted with alternative theories should choose the most Qur’ānic‐compatible one, nor is it related to the discussion of religious guidelines for the ethics of scientific research.

The specific points made, or lines followed, by the advocates of iʿjāz ʿilmī vary according to what they present or perceive as “scientific.” They can be classified as follows:

• (a)

  The Qur’ān contains passages coinciding with scientific theories; for instance, the theory of an expanding universe.

• (b)

  The Qur’ān contains passages that describe natural phenomena currently ascertained by science but unknown at the time of revelation; for instance, the development of the fetus in the mother's womb.

• (c)

  The Qur’ān contains passages that accurately describe specific, circumscribed facts, events or occurrences currently ascertained by scientific investigation (possibly but not necessarily unknown at the time of the revelation); for instance, the preservation of the mummy of the Pharaoh who pursued Moses.

• (d)

  The Qur’ān contains passages that foretell contemporary scientific‐technological developments or inventions; for example, the exploration of space.

• (e)

  The Qur’ān displays numerical patterns that correspond to the numerical patterns exhibited by natural phenomena and/or occurring in scientific laws. This might be called numerological iʿjāz. For instance, it is claimed that the terms for “sea” and “land” occur, in the Qur’ān, in the same numerical proportion as sea and land are actually present on earth, or that the Qur’ān hints at significant dates (e.g., Q 54:1 is interpreted as pointing at the year of the Moon landing).

• (f)

  Qur’ānic/hadith prescriptions concerning, for example, hygiene and diet have a medical rationale that contemporary medicine can explain.

There are also further cases, which we might call cognate ones, that can be mentioned as relevant in the contemporary debate on Islam and science (at least on a popular level) but are less apt to be categorized under iʿjāz because they to do not directly reference the Qur’ān. The first is when permanent or widespread natural phenomena (e.g., the shape of the continents or of an animal's skeleton) match some proper symbols or terms of Islam, such as the shahāda (i.e., the declaration of one's belief in the oneness of God and the acceptance of Muhammad as His Prophet), the name of God, or the positions of the prayer. The second case, analogous but distinct, is the one in which it is claimed that specific configurations of circumscribed natural phenomena are said to recall or match symbols or terms proper of Islam (e.g., when the name of God is said to appear in a sliced fruit or in the clouds). We might call these, paradoxically, “iʿjāz without Qur’ān.” We can also register those cases in which supernatural (or at least highly anomalous) phenomena are said to recall symbols and terms proper of Islam, such as the case of the narrative, circulating on the Internet as early as 2009, of Qur’ānic verses appearing on a baby's skin in Dagestan. However, the identification of religious symbols in ephemeral natural phenomena as well as the claim that religious symbols suddenly appear on objects and bodies is not exclusively a Muslim trend.

Since this article is broadly concerned with pseudoscience, for the sake of completeness we should also mention the existence of the discussion of Qur’ānic para‐ or pseudo‐technology. It has been claimed, for instance, that the Qur’ān has special powers that can be intercepted, channeled, transmitted, and used through technological devices (Guessoum , 5–6). Finally, we can list the resort to medical “techniques” that are actually empirically unwarranted but allegedly “Islamic,” for instance, cupping. These forms of pseudoscience are not exclusively Muslim either, and surface time and again in different societies with a mystique of “exoticness,” “antiquity,” or “tradition” that is not always religious.

Let us resume the discussion of iʿjāz stricto sensu. If we consider the points from (a) to (f) we can see that ʿijāz (ʿilmī) and the “scientific miracle of the Qur’ān” (or “of Islam”) appear to be umbrella expressions under which rather different lines of exegesis can be pursued. Each interpreter can emphasize one or more of the points above. For instance, one might highlight the alleged accuracy of some descriptions of natural phenomena in the Qur’ān but ignore (or even reject) numerological interpretations thereof. It should also be pointed out that the different lines can merge due to the nature of the (allegedly) scientific matter mentioned (that, e.g., may involve theoretical as well as factual elements that are not always separable).

A point frequently stated in the context of iʿjāz (but not exclusively in it) is that the Qur’ān invites observation of natural phenomena and to consider them as signs of God. The mention of natural phenomena as signs (Ar. āyāt) in the Qur’ān is a fact; however, the advocates of iʿjāz may emphasize the frequency of such references as well as their accuracy. It can be debated if such a point taken in isolation is sufficient to detect the presence of iʿjāz. One might also ask, especially after considering point (a): if an author believes (say) in biological evolution and he or she states that the Qur’ān supports it, or that it is in harmony with it, is that classifiable as an expression of  iʿjāz?  A possible response to such questions is that we may only talk of iʿjāz when it is explicitly stated or implied that there is a match between the Qur’ān and “science” and that such match demonstrates the divine origin of the Qur’ān. However, the shortcomings which the present article warns about concern, as I will later argue in greater detail, all the cases of the spectrum, and in this sense we can stick to the usage of the term iʿjāz without further qualifications.

The thesis of the scientific precision of the Qur’ān can be supported together with the thesis that Jewish and Christian scriptures are not as accurate or are even untenable from a logical or scientific perspective, due to the errors interpolated by the humans who have transmitted or manipulated such texts. In this sense iʿjāz ʿilmī can go hand in hand with the doctrine of taḥrīf, the “distortion” or “alteration” of Jewish and Christian scriptures (Lazarus‐Yafeh ). However, this is not always the case.

Attempts at “scientifically” reading the Qur’ān date back at least to the efforts of the Egyptian Tantāwī Jawharī (1862–1940), author of Jewels in the Interpretation of the Holy Qur’ān, Containing Marvels of the Beauties of the Creation and Wonderfully Luminous Divine Signs in 26 volumes. However, as Majid Daneshgar recently showed, such reading is not necessarily tantamount to subscribing to the thesis of the “scientific miraculousness.” What Tantāwī Jawharī was rather engaged in, according to Daneshgar's interpretation, was the understanding of Qur’ānic verses through scientific data (Daneshgar ). It is however likely that an enthusiastic or unsophisticated reader might easily confuse the theoretical framework and purpose of the two interpretations.

Another term used almost interchangeably with iʿjāz (ʿilmī) is Bucaillism (or Bucailleism), after the name of the French physician Maurice Bucaille (1920–1998). In his immensely popular book The Bible, the Quran and Science (1976) as well as in other writings and conferences, Bucaille expressed the idea of harmony between Qur’ānic content and “scientific” data with unprecedented clarity and the aura of a Western convert and a successful medical doctor (Bigliardi ). Bucaille especially stressed that the Qur’ān was astonishingly accurate about the causes of death of the Pharaoh who pursued Moses during the exodus, whose mummy he was convinced in identifying as among those conserved at the Egyptian museum in Cairo. He was also an advocate of the thesis of the corruption of Jewish and Christian scriptures, which he emphasizes in his works. The identity of the mummy and the match with Qur’ānic verses is presented in his main book as his own finding, but his works contain plenty of examples of a match between Qur’ānic verses and scientific information that he might have taken from pre‐existing texts (or perhaps learnt indirectly through conversations). We currently are not in a position to explain in detail which other works may have influenced Bucaille, albeit it seems clear that he did rely on predecessors. However it must be emphasized, in the interest of accurate scholarship and historical reconstruction, that iʿjāz ʿilmī is not Bucaille's invention, that the ideas he popularized in his writings included, but were not limited to, the “scientific miraculousness” of the Qur’ān, and also that Bucaille did not pursue all of the exegetical lines listed above: for example, numerological speculations are absent from his writings (Bigliardi , 181–83).

Bucaille's work inspired a flood of similar work, usually produced by authors trained in natural science or engineering and with no formal theological training. Analogous to Bucaille's case, and still referred to, is Keith L. Moore (b. 1925), a Canadian anatomist who in 1986, after having worked in the Embryology Committee of the King Abdulaziz University (Saudi Arabia), published a paper arguing that the Qur’ān contains precise embryological notions that cannot be explained in the light of human knowledge at the time of the revelation (Moore ).

Nowadays iʿjāz is a popular genre that flourishes not only in print but also on TV and on the Internet. Contemporary successful, that is, highly visible advocates of iʿjāz include the Egyptian geologist and TV personality Zaghloul El‐Naggar (b. 1933) who even works within a Commission ad hoc funded, inter alia, by the Egyptian government (Bigliardi , 103–32); the Turkish religious leader and TV preacher Harun Yahya (pen name of Adnan Oktar, b. 1956), who contributes to spreading such ideas together with his vocal criticism of Darwinism (Riexinger ; Ross Solberg ; Bigliardi , 41–52; Bigliardi ); and the Indian preacher (with a background in medicine) Zakir Naik (b. 1965).

While these pages are being written (January 2016) a simple Internet search for “scientific” “miracle” “Quran” yields 354,000 results. Conferences are regularly organized on the topic in several Muslim countries (Guessoum , 857). Iʿjāz‐related discussion (as well as, more generally, pseudomedicine in Islamic garb) have occasionally found their way into peer‐reviewed publications proper, although more as a result of a failure of the peer review process on behalf of editors and referees rather than because of the scientific acceptance of the claims contained in such pieces (Loukas et al. ), as well as in peer‐reviewed–looking journals (cf. Ahmadi, Schwebel, and Rezaei ; Khenenou et al. ; Ahmed ).

CRITICISM OF IʿJāZ, OLD AND NEW

Iʿjāz has been both studied and criticized by Muslim and non‐Muslim authors alike. One of its earliest academic observers, Johannes J. G. Jansen, stated that

one cannot help admiring the courage of certain scientific exegetes of the Koran. Whereas in Christianity it took centuries before the Churches “admitted” certain scientific truths, often after bloody struggles, many modern Moslem scientific exegetes of the Koran boldly claim that the Koran, the backbone of Islam, already contains the modern sciences and their principles, and all this with a courage and vigor that deserves a nobler aim. (Jansen , 54)

A harsh Muslim critic of iʿjāz is Ziauddin Sardar, according to whom Bucailleism is “apologia of the worst type” (Sardar , 31); more specifically, in Sardar's opinion Bucaille's first book was “essential reading for Muslims with a larger‐than‐life inferiority complex” (Sardar , 33). Sardar followed several, albeit complementary, lines of criticism directed at Bucailleism. First of all, according to him, Bucailleism relies on a naively positivistic vision of science as neutral, static, and universal, and made the supposed demonstration of the Qur’ān's divinity dependent on shaky scientific truths or facts. Second, it sacralized science and undermined any criticism thereof. Third, Bucailleism in Sardar's opinion often resulted in far‐fetched interpretations of the lexicon of the Qur’ān that went hand‐in‐hand with oversimplified (or simply wrong) notions presented as scientific. The Qur’ān should not be treated as a database, Sardar pointed out: it provides motivation for the pursuit of knowledge that begins with it but does not end in it (Sardar ; Sardar , 30–37).

Taner Edis, who is rather critical about the possibility of harmonizing religion and science, states that Bucailleism reduces science to a “stamp collection” (Edis's , 101). Edis's position is very similar to Pervez Hoodbhoy's who, both in his monograph Islam and Science: Religious Orthodoxy and the Battle for Rationality (Hoodbhoy ) and in numerous press articles, has been attacking pseudoscience especially in Pakistan (Hoodbhoy ).

Recently, a group composed of the physicists Mehdi Golshani, Mohammed Basil Altaie, Bruno Guiderdoni, and Nidhal Guessoum has been defined as a “new generation” of authors engaged in the debate over Islam and science. These authors, who approach such debate in their capacity as natural scientists, aim at a theistic interpretation of science based on Islamic concepts rather than at a reformation of the scientific method. Although they share such a general goal, they do differ as to specific philosophico‐theological stances (Hameed ; Bigliardi ; Bigliardi ; Edis ; Guessoum ).

All the authors of the “new generation,” however, take critical stands toward iʿjāz. Golshani warns about the identification of scientific notions in the Qur’ān for at least three interwoven reasons. He points out that this kind of exegesis should not be favored over the direct investigation of the natural world; he remarks that it wrongly provokes the treatment of the Qur’ān as a catalog of scientific facts and not as a book of guidance; and he recalls that scientific theories change so that the supposed correspondence of the Qur’ān and science cannot be taken as decisive validation of the Qur’ān itself. Altaie mainly criticizes the incompetence of those authors who embark on the identification of scientific notions in the Qur’ān and, concerning various (not better specified) claims by El‐Naggar, he observes that some are not verifiable, some are correct if contextualized, and others are plainly wrong. Altaie particularly expands on the problem that, more often than not, the facts supposedly harmonized with the Qur’ān or the hadith are not scientific at all, such as the alleged finding of a giant skeleton that demonstrated the size of humans in Adam's times as mentioned in the hadith. He states as well that the Bucaillean approach has allowed a majority of “ordinary” people to acknowledge “the Qur’ān's scientific and intellectual expression.” Guiderdoni maintains that Bucaille was sincere in his approach; however he describes Bucailleism as shallow or “bad science” and “bad theology” that inverts “the way things should be done.” According to Guiderdoni, scientific facts should be the object of a properly scientific enterprise, and theology in its turn should not be exclusively reduced to the identification of scientific notions in the Qur’ān (Bigliardi , 189–91).

Guessoum has a more articulate interpretation, and one that has been evolving over the past years. In a 2008 article published in Zygon, he insists on the distinction between “scientific interpretation” (tafsir ʿilmī) and “scientific miracle” (iʿjāz ʿilmī) of the Qur’ān. The former is the kind of exegesis that is aimed at illuminating the content of at least some Qur’ānic passages that mention natural phenomena, by referring to up‐to‐date scientific knowledge; the latter is the identification of specific scientific notions, inventions, and discoveries supposedly foretold in the Qur’ān. However, Guessoum recognizes that Bucaille's work stands midway between the two trends. Guessoum acknowledges as well that some advocates of this trend are highly educated and sincere in their approach and describes iʿjāz as “a snowball that started out small and white but then rolled and collected rubbish (ignorant contributions); it has become a mass of dirty ice that easily melts under the intense light of objective and methodical scrutiny.” At the same time, he believes that it is possible to salvage, clean up, and redirect such an approach, “at least for the general public,” by rejecting “all extreme positions.” Guessoum's position is also original in that he levels some counter‐objections to other critics of the scientific interpretation and scientific miracle of the Qur’ān. Other critics, Guessoum points out, have stated that it leads to assigning untenable meanings to Qur’ānic vocabulary, that it downplays occasions of revelation as well as the sociocultural context of the revelation, that it projects onto the perfect Qur’ān the imperfection of human sciences, and that it is an elitist approach. However, Guessoum regards all of these objections as “not serious” since in his view they disregard that the Qur’ān is not bound to the specific context of seventh‐century Arabia and is always open to multiple interpretations by readers with different intellectual inclinations or mindsets (Guessoum , 420–28).

In conversation with me following the Zygon article by a few years, the Algerian physicist recognized that Bucailleism can have an “allure” for less scientifically informed minds, as he himself was before taking up his physics studies. In this sense, and given that a sophisticated comprehension of science and religion are not open to everybody, Bucailleism seems, in Guessoum's reconstruction at least, to naturally fulfill or express a cultural role or need. However, in that very conversation Guessoum shortly expressed harsh remarks about the “scientific miraculousness” of the Qur’ān that he defines as “dangerous philosophically and intellectually, even dangerous Islamically” (Bigliardi , 155). More recently, and once again in a Zygon article, Guessoum has described iʿjāz as a major challenge for the “new generation,” emphasizing the pseudofacts that are referenced in this kind of exegesis, as well as the institutional and academic support that iʿjāz obtains in Muslim countries (Guessoum ).

I have analyzed the logic behind Bucaille's discourse, and emphasized that it is especially contradictory regarding the concept of a miracle. Whereas the French author states that he scrutinizes the sacred scriptures with a scientific mind, he is also eager to take supernatural narratives at face value (Bigliardi ). I have also examined Yahya's works, pointing out how his usage of pictures and stylistic elements typical of scientific popularization proper characterizes the works by the Turkish author as a new and more sophisticated form of iʿjāz (Bigliardi ). Finally, I have pointed out the nuances in the new generation's positions concerning iʿjāz, describing their discussion because of the subtle arguments employed as a “Mikado match” rather than a “titanic struggle”; I have also invited fellow scholars to collect more sociological data concerning the consumption and production of iʿjāz in order to avoid generalizations. In particular I point out that data about state funding allocated to conferences and publications dedicated to iʿjāz are still a desideratum (Bigliardi , 191–93).

Josep Lluís Mateo Dieste, who has conducted fieldwork at an iʿjāz‐dedicated conference in Tétouan, Morocco (Third Conference on the Scientific Miracles of the Qur'an and the Sunna, Faculty of Sciences, University Abdelmalek Essaadi, September 17–19, 2010), pointed out not only how iʿjāz itself goes hand in hand with anti‐Darwinism, but also emphasized its deep, implicit anthropocentrism. Commenting upon the words of one of the conference delegates, a professor who had stated inter alia that everything in the universe from planets to particles moves counter clockwise around a center analogously to the pilgrims around the Ka‘aba, Mateo Dieste observes:

During the interview I could also detect the usual criticism of Darwinism employed by most of the authors who produce this kind of literature, characterized by a remarkable pedagogical effort at synthetizing and popularizing, with the same argumentations repeated over and over again in self‐produced booklets and brochures provided with illustrations and frequent caricatures of Darwin with an ape's body. However, some aspects emerged in the interview that are not always easy to identify in the materials and written documents examined: for example, the idea that the world has been designed by God for the humans. There emerges in this discourse, in my opinion, an unsuspected anthropocentrism although formulated in terms of “divine objectivity.” (Mateo Dieste ; see also Mateo Dieste 2015)

The emergence and enduring success of iʿjāz may be explainable through a number of historical and social factors. The present article is more concerned with theoretical issues, but we can at least advance some hypotheses, especially drawing upon the criticisms that we have just observed. Iʿjāz acts as an antidote to the (incorrect) perception of contemporary science and technology as Western/non‐Muslim (“non‐Muslims have technology and science; but Muslims have had them all along”). It also projects onto the Qur’ān the prestige of natural science perceived in its turn as the highest form of knowledge and the yardstick of truth (e.g., Bucaille complemented the discovery of scientific notions in the Qur’ān with the deconstruction of the Old and the New Testament in the light of science itself). More in general, the whole emergence of the very debate about the harmony of Islam and science (including but not limited to iʿjāz) has been described as a result of the weakening of traditional, theologically trained religious authorities and the emergence of new authors who self‐identify as Muslim and strive to reshape Islam in the light of modern science while affirming themselves as new authorities (Stenberg ).

Another related factor to be taken into account is that the easiness of finding “science” in the Qur’ān has been immensely expanded by the encyclopedic possibilities disclosed by the Internet to non‐specialists. Whereas an author like Bucaille needed at least a smattering of different disciplines acquired through readings and conversations, access to the world wide web allows one to rapidly “fish” “scientific information” from the most different sources and pair it with Qur’ānic passages that can be, in their turn, rapidly selected through a search by relevant terms. Software whose usage does require minimal skills allows a rapid and plethoric production of texts that can be immediately sent out in the virtual world and made available to everybody, bypassing peer and editorial review. Especially what I have called “iʿjāz without Qur’ān” seems to be a rather amateurish, homemade product; it requires minimal or even non‐existent theological and scientific knowledge to be produced and its existence and emergence can be related to the increasing availability of computer programs that allow easy manipulation and circulation of images. Iʿjāz producers can be students, practitioners, or professionals who, in creating and spreading this kind of discourse, can feel that they are re‐appropriating religion after having pursued a career that has taken them far from the study of the sacred text. I am not claiming that such exercise is not creative, creativity being in fact rather difficult to measure, but that its results are rather easy to imitate and spread.

Finally, a hypothesis that needs to be explored further is that the scientific exegesis of the Qur’ān can also be perceived as a more efficacious tool in proselytizing, especially when the Qur’ān is predicated to non‐Arabic speakers who are unable to perceive the hiatus between Qur’ānic language and ordinary Arabic, and hence are less likely to understand the doctrine of iʿjāz classically formulated as linguistic inimitability.

CONSPIRACY THEORIES

We shall make a diversion here in order to describe a contemporary phenomenon that scholars have analyzed in detail as a major vehicle of pseudoscience. Its analogies and ties with iʿjāz will gradually emerge in the discussion. To begin with, the expression “conspiracy theories” (that from now on I shall use interchangeably with “conspiracism” and “conspiracist thinking”) must be kept distinct from the study, in historical terms, of conspiracies proper, a “conspiracy” being defined as a secret plan by a group to carry out harmful deeds or the implementation thereof (Byford , 2). Conspiracism, that in its modern form began developing after the French Revolution (Byford , 43), is a contemporary subcultural phenomenon (Byford , 5), a fallacious style of debate (Byford , 4–5) that assumes the existence of some event and describes it as the result of an occult agency that not only brings it about for its sinister purposes, but is also engaged in a major cover‐up aimed at deleting the traces of the very agency's role in causing such event (Byford , 2). No event is immune from conspiracist thinking, and new conspiracist theories are born on a daily basis. Notable examples include conspiracist theories about John Fitzgerald Kennedy's assassination (1963), the Moon landing (1969), Marilyn Monroe's death (1962), Lady Diana Spencer's death (1997), the 9/11 terrorist attacks (2001), the world financial crisis as intentionally steered by a group engaged in the construction of a new world order, an alien race secretly dominating the world through various forms of manipulation, the very existence of aliens kept secret by governments, the spraying of “chemtrails” made by poisonous substances, vaccines that cause autism or other diseases, HIV as non‐existent, and AIDS as a synthetized disease used to bring about a genocide in Africa, and so on.

Conspiracism is characterized by a distinct, and logically flawed, style of argumentation rather than by a specific content or debate. It is generally fueled by/revolving around pseudofacts or factoids that result respectively from plainly false statements (e.g., “No corpses were found at Shanksville”), and from falsely interpreted facts (e.g., “Building Seven collapsed because of a controlled demolition”) that in any case would not stand up to meticulous fact‐checking and/or reasoning along logical and physical principles. Conspiracist “hypotheses” are based on self‐sustaining arguments, since pseudofacts or factoids are used to point at the existence of the conspiracy, but the very absence of proof by definition confirms the existence of a cover‐up (Byford , 35–37). Emphasis on the existence of an occult agency can entail not only disregard of fact‐checking for each “fact” used in the discussion, but also disregard for the contradictions among alleged facts. It has been demonstrated that conspiracists believe, for instance, that Diana Spencer faked her death and that she was murdered by MI6, or that Bin Laden was already dead when his compound was raided and that he is still alive (Wood, Douglas, and Sutton ). The consumers of conspiracist discourse are described as characterized by feelings of dispossession, alienation, and disenchantment with politics; conspiracism thus offers “a simple explanation for existential and status‐related problems” (Byford , 129–30).

Conspiracist thinking currently flourishes on the Internet (Jolley and Douglas , 37; Byford , 10–11) and it is produced by some leading authors specializing in one or more of its theories; consumers of conspiracy discourses have been demonstrated to usually believe in more than one conspiracy theory at a time (Wood and Douglas ). Conspiracism, as we have observed, is a rhetorical style that can be picked up relatively quickly rather than a practice one can be academically trained for and involving the development of a real expertise. Therefore conspiracism consumers are induced to become authors themselves, for instance, by opening their own blogs, or they might feel that they are producing the discourse through their own “research” while they actually are mediating it.

Conspiracism has also taken a pseudo‐academic form. Conspiracists have adopted stylistic devices typical of academic texts—for instance, quotations that actually never exceed texts within the conspiracist discourse itself (Byford , 90 and 101) and founded venues for such exchanges that are similar to academic ones (such as conferences and journals (Byford , 89). Conspiracism presents itself in a scientific garb in that it offers and discusses “proofs”: this is the so‐called “rhetoric of scientific inquiry” (Byford , 66). In fact, conspiracist authors usually claim an authority that is not matched by their academic credentials or professional expertise (e.g., journalists expanding on the physical laws explaining the 9/11 collapses or those supposedly violated in a lunar mission). Moreover, conspiracism is based on or promotes a sheer misunderstanding of scientific and academic practice. “Investigation” as it is carried out by conspiracist authors and consumers is rather the accumulation of “facts” collected on the Internet than genuine fact‐checking (Byford , 88). As I have already observed, self‐referential quotes are favored over fact‐checking while peer review and independent control are ignored. Despite the value apparently conferred on “expertise” and “credentials” within conspiracist discourse (Byford , 9), if any other experts (be they genuine or not) report some piece of information that seemingly confirms the main thesis, they are eagerly quoted in order to buttress it; but if their information contradicts the main thesis they are deemed to be biased and hence discarded (either by claiming they are influenced by prejudice or that they are on the occult agency's payroll; Byford , 13). It must also be noted that, as in the case of the 1998 article in The Lancet by Andrew Wakefield that started the conspiracist discourse about vaccines causing autism (and that was actually heavily flawed and therefore retired), sometimes the “information” referred to in conspiracist discourse did appear in scientific venues proper as a result of a failure in the peer review process (Jolley and Douglas , 1).

Seemingly, conspiracist thinking stems from, represents, and invites a critical consideration of politics and social phenomena. In fact, conspiracism is harmful to the correct communication of science (be it meant as natural science or in a broad sense as the construction of knowledge based on sound arguments and peer review): “Because they harbor suspicion about any official source of knowledge, conspiracy theories stand in opposition to science, medicine and other forms of mainstream academic enquiry” (Byford , 144). First, conspiracist discourse spreads a number of specific pseudofacts. Second, belief in such pseudofacts can result in harmful behavior (e.g., failure to vaccinate children or to take adequate protections against STDs). Psychological research has demonstrated that exposure to conspiracy theories concerning climate change decreases intentions to engage in politics and to reduce one's carbon footprint (Jolley and Douglas , ). Third, the fallacious and paranoid thinking style that characterizes it impedes a correct understanding of experimental and/or peer‐reviewed science. Some specific conspiracist debates—for instance, those focusing on allegedly “alternative” medicine or on supposedly harmful vaccines—even invite one to regard “official” medicine as biased, thus inducing dangerous behavior as well as a generally mistrustful attitude toward scientific authorities (Byford , 13). Finally, and more generally, it has also been demonstrated that conspiracism is characterized by the tendency to argue against opposing interpretations rather than in favor of conspiracists’ ones (Wood and Douglas ), thus representing a non–self‐critical attitude toward the debate.

HOW IʿJāZ, PSEUDOSCIENCE, AND CONSPIRACISM OVERLAP AND MERGE

Attentive readers have probably noticed various relevant analogies between conspiracism and iʿjāz. Iʿjāz incorporates and conveys, more often than not, pseudoscience in the form of blatant pseudofacts or factoids as I have defined them. An iʿjāz‐related pseudofact is, for instance, the existence of a lunar rille that, according to a known narrative, was discovered by NASA astronauts and confirms the splitting of the Moon mentioned in the Qur’ān (Q 54:1). A factoid is that planetary motion goes counter clockwise similarly to the pilgrims’ circumambulation of the Ka‘aba (planets do move in ellipses but the direction depends on the viewpoint). This is by no means a recent development if we take Bucaille's works as a starting point. Already his claim that the mummy he examined was that of the Pharaoh who pursued Moses, and that such identification confirmed the Qur’ān and disconfirmed the Bible, was based on circular and/or far‐fetched inferences (the Qur’ān mentions that the Pharaoh was “thrown” in the water; the mummy examined does not present the signs of a long permanence in water but rather physical wounds; then the wounds must have been caused by the water crushing the Pharaoh; therefore the mummy belongs to the Pharaoh who pursued Moses; thus the Qur’ān is scientifically correct). We can mention here another famous narrative according to which the French oceanographer Jacques Cousteau (1910–1997) converted to Islam after discovering a current of sweet water in an ocean, a fact described in the Qur’ān. There even exists a version of this narrative in which Cousteau learned about the Qur’ānic reference from Bucaille himself.

One might be tempted to describe these as extreme cases. Guessoum, as we have seen, has initially pointed at the distinction between “scientific miracle” and “scientific exegesis.” Also in this article I have attempted a fine‐grained classification and understanding of iʿjāz. However we should emphasize that even in its “softer” versions iʿjāz is far from being a discipline based on an empirical study of the external world through mathematical models and repeatable experiments, whose results are accepted by a community after peer review. It is rather a narrative technique that resorts to information, be it empirically warranted or not, that apparently refers to the natural world. In this sense the adjective itself “scientific” (as implicitly referring to the natural sciences) is spurious. The same holds for the supposedly “demonstrative” role of single “scientific miracles” where the object of the alleged demonstration is the Qur’ān's divine origin. This means that iʿjāz in any case makes a misleading reference to the natural sciences. In other words, some (though not all) of the claims made about science in iʿjāz literature refer to valid scientific findings, which are then tenuously linked to passages of the Qur’ān, yet iʿjāz (like much conspiracism) involves the accumulation of scientific facts without any regard to the scientific processes like peer review or theory development that test those facts. Scientific practice is simply bypassed and, rather than peer review, what is favored, as Mateo Dieste observes, is the constant replication of the same material. Because of this, the distinction between facts and pseudofacts becomes blurred. Considered from this perspective, the sharp distinction advanced by Guessoum between “scientific interpretation” and “scientific miracle” or the very taxonomy proposed in this article are surely useful tools in order to distinguish among sub‐genera, but do not shield any of them from the charge of making a misleading reference to the natural sciences. This also holds independently of the further philosophical shortcomings that one may identify in the specific conception of science (implicitly) held by specific iʿjāz exegetes—for instance, the sacralization of science, as stated by Sardar, or anthropocentrism, as pointed out by Mateo Dieste.

So far, iʿjāz and conspiracism seem to be two forms of discourse, whose only common reference points are pseudofacts and factoids, urban‐legend–like narratives, as well as pseudoscientific structure and language. However, there are more shared elements. For instance, iʿjāz producers are usually authors with a scientific background who actually write about fields they are not directly competent in. This once again entails a blatant disregard of peer review mechanisms and conveys an image of science as stemming from (or being based upon) the narrative of the individual “expert.” Such a pattern was already present in Bucaille and can still be observed.

Furthermore, analogous to conspiracy theories, iʿjāz is seemingly borne out of, and contributes to dampening, a negative feeling. More specifically, a frustration stemming from the simplistic and deeply sated conviction that contemporary science is “Western” and that Islam/religion is in need of “scientific validation.” This seems to be confirmed by the fact that often the scientific authorities evoked in iʿjāz narratives are non‐Muslims (that sometimes, as we have seen, are said to have converted to Islam as a result of their alleged discoveries). In fact the trope of the “illustrious Western convert” is an old one not only in the discourse on Islam and science but also in conspiracy theories proper circulating in the Muslim world, such as the (alleged) conversion and subsequent assassination of Lady Diana Spencer or of Gianni Agnelli's eldest son Edoardo.

We have seen that both conspiracist narratives and iʿjāz ones have mushroomed thanks to the possibilities disclosed by the Internet. We should also mention that one of the greatest producers of iʿjāz, the Harun Yahya enterprise, which has profited enormously from the possibilities disclosed by the Internet, has spread blatant conspiracy theories in which first the Jews and the Freemasons, and later the “Darwinists,” are described as the sinister, occult agency behind each and every ill of contemporary society and tragic facts of history (Ross Solberg , 75–82).

Yet there is more to the picture. Iʿjāz as a genre not only bears some striking family resemblances to conspiracist thinking: it also overlaps with it, or incorporates it significantly. Narratives such as NASA astronauts discovering proof of the Moon's splitting, that Cousteau converted to Islam after discovering an oceanic current mentioned in the Qur’ān, or that a giant skeleton was discovered in Saudi Arabia that confirmed a hadith about Adam and his height, while not directly constituted of conspiracy theories, need and encourage the production of a wider, paranoid and conspiracist context in which to be comprehended by their consumers or presented by their producers once they are challenged about the evidence and the literature that supports them.

Here lies a major difference between iʿjāz narratives and scientifically/philosophically solid debates on science and religion. One might, say, theistically interpret planetary motions in the Solar System as “harmonious” and “pointing at God's rationality”; however, a description of those very motions in rigorous mathematical terms and with reference to precise observations will be found in books in which the concept itself of God is not relevant. However, there is no other way than resorting to a conspiracist theory if one wants to make (some) sense of any “scientific discovery” or “fact” that supposedly confirmed the Qur’ān and still is not reported in official, scientific literature (i.e., other than the iʿjāz one) because it actually is a pseudofact or a factoid. If, say, the proof of the Moon's splitting is not recalled in NASA documents there must have been a major cover‐up; and a cover‐up can only have been motivated by the will to avoid crediting Islam… and so on. For instance, if one points out that Bucaille's “results” are only discussed in his books or in Bucailleist ones, a Bucailleist interlocutor can claim that the French author chose not to express himself in academic venues out of fear of persecution, or that the very absence of scientific publications on his behalf is the result of such persecutions. Iʿjāz‐advocate Zaghloul El‐Naggar, when diplomatically challenged by me about the fact that “it is difficult to find a passage in which Maurice Bucaille clearly admits, in first person, that he converted,” answered:

You know, sadly enough, the Westerners, who claim to be democratic and advocating human freedom and human dignity, become the most fanatic people when it comes to the area of religion. I lived in the West for many years and I wouldn't say everyone but the majority of them are very fanatic. Most of the Christians in the West take religion as an idea rather than as a belief—which they can analyse critically. That is why Maurice Bucaille preferred to keep his belief between himself and his Creator. (Quoted in Bigliardi , 130)

In short, the reasons of the deep analogies and overlap between iʿjāz and conspiracism can be identified in the very fact that they are both discourses produced by non‐specialists who invest their own work with great emotional value and who claim (or want to mimic) a scientific approach without actually subscribing to its standards. Once (1) expertise is disregarded, (2) the connection with the experimental method is severed, and (3) mathematics is eliminated from the picture, wrong information about the natural world is likely to be rapidly incorporated in the discourse. Afterwards, self‐referentiality is the only way that warrants an academic look, while conspiracist/paranoid logic (“other scientists do not accept/disclose this information because of their religious agenda!”) is the only way left to the exegetes when the lack of empirical warrant or collegial consensus is pointed out to them outside of iʿjāz‐dedicated texts for the supposedly scientific information they talk about.

CRITICAL CONCLUSIONS AND PROPOSALS

The production of iʿjāz might well stem from a sincere intention to harmonize religion and science. The consumption of iʿjāz seems to fulfill a psychological function. It makes believers feel that their sacred scriptures are not outdated, and in harmony with what is regarded as the most successful and useful form of knowledge. Conversely, science's (supposed) “Western” or potentially antireligious character is bypassed. Iʿjāz, seemingly, reassures believers about a number of issues. Focusing on such a function one might be tempted to deem iʿjāz harmless or even positive for non‐experts in things scientific. However, one should keep distinct the observation of iʿjāz producers and consumers’ feelings and motivations, and the logical structure and consequences of iʿjāz. The former deserve respect; the flaws in the latter cannot be passed over in silence out of respect. As we have observed in the previous pages, there seems to be no way to argue in favor of the scientific tenability of specific iʿjāz narratives without adding more and more “conspiracist epicycles” which in turn take one further and further from a correct understanding and appreciation of science proper. Furthermore, iʿjāz consumers end up believing pseudoscientific information. What is gained in the short run in terms of the reassurance conveyed by the “discovery” of “scientific notions” in the Qur’ān can hardly be justified if one thinks of the damage brought in the longer term to the correct perception, practice, and implementation of science proper, not to mention funding allocation on behalf of political authorities.

One might be tempted to resort to sophisticated theories about the problem of demarcation between science and pseudoscience in order to argue that we are not sufficiently equipped to undertake such an enterprise as debunking iʿjāz. Yet the problem of demarcation is somewhat resolved by iʿjāz producers and consumers themselves. Indeed, they do not engage in a highly intellectual discussion of differing visions of science, but they simply employ plain labels such as “science,” “scientific,” “scientist,” and so on. To be sure, highly intellectual debates over the nature of science should not be generally dismissed; but they are irrelevant vis‐à‐vis the advocates of iʿjāz who do not rely, say, on conceptions of science à la Feyerabend in order to argue that all forms of knowledge are equally worthy or that there is no such thing as a scientific method. They are rather willing to present themselves as engaged in a scientific, academic enterprise equal to other ones they take as reference. They should, then, be judged by the same standards they claim to their own credit before engaging in complex debates regarding the nature of such standards. One can debate whether and why the physics or medicine taught in an academic handbook is objective knowledge. Yet if someone claims that the discourses he himself produces have the same status as physics and medicine in that handbook, the question to prioritize is whether such discourses have been obtained through the same method, rather than the status of that very method.

It is also important to emphasize that we are not suggesting that the Muslim world is more affected than any other society by pseudoscience and conspiracism, which are in fact global phenomena. However, iʿjāz is a typical and widespread kind of pseudoscience and a cognate of conspiracism typical of the Muslim world.

The above‐proposed comparison demonstrates in detail that iʿjāz is not only the vehicle of specific pseudoscientific notions but also of deeply pseudoscientific forms of thinking. In their capacity as philosophers of science and religion, Guessoum and his new generation colleagues are engaged in fine‐grained work concerning complex questions such as the reconciliation of a personal God with biological evolution, or over divine action in the world. Scholars interested in questions of classification point out that iʿjāz as a cultural and social phenomenon begs for deeper scholarly understanding. However teachers and educators (a role actually shared by all the authors we have just mentioned), once they have understood how easily iʿjāz goes hand in hand with pseudoscience and conspiracism, might be looking for alternative models, especially considering that iʿjāz often reaches educational institutions and students who should be trained in scientific methods and critical thinking.

Public debates with specific iʿjāz producers do not seem to be a wise option. This would only encourage the perception of iʿjāz as a theory to be debated on a footing of equality with proper science (analogously to conspiracist authors, who should not be combated directly; Byford , 155). It is also quite unlikely that iʿjāz can be eradicated in the short run; given the easiness of its production iʿjāz is always liable to be produced in enormous quantity. It seems safe to state that in the long run the appeal of iʿjāz can radically fade away only as a result of wider educational policies.

Specific syllabi and teaching strategies should be tailored to existing institutional, educational, and cultural landscapes in specific Muslim countries. Here scholarship and pedagogy can go hand in hand, since a more fine‐grained understanding of iʿjāz from the viewpoint of the social sciences can help. Once again one may emphasize that understanding iʿjāz and contrasting it can be taken up as parallel and integrated tasks. I will try to sketch some general guidelines here, pointing at ideas that might help contrast iʿjāz. Natural sciences, philosophy and critical thinking teachers alike may encourage the appreciation of natural science as methodologically based on mathematical models, emerging through experimental investigations and peer review rather than from the intuition of the “individual genius.” Research in the natural sciences can well be presented as a fascinating and worthwhile enterprise, without scientistic undertones but also without spurious connections with sacred scriptures. One can add that the scientific enterprise is perfectly in line with a Muslim's life path and ethical code, but without getting entangled in any “scientific exegesis” whatsoever of the sacred text of Islam itself. Theologians may also join their efforts with such educators; for instance, in spreading the idea that the amazement of miracles (however they be defined in theological or philosophical terms) is not one and the same thing as a scientific demonstration (the very overlap of the concepts of “miracle” and “sign” in Qur’ānic language might help in such a task). This can be complemented by the idea that distinguishing demonstrations in the natural sciences from other forms of demonstration is not tantamount to (implicitly) deeming the former as more worthwhile than the latter. An advantage of all such perspectives is that they refer to shared values on which thinkers and educators can converge although possibly differing on other philosophical and theological points, as is the case with the representatives of the “new generation” (needless to say, non‐Muslim teachers and scholars may join this enterprise as well).

Once again: it is not claimed that those who are already convinced by iʿjāz and have entered the vicious circles of reasoning that characterize it can be “re‐converted” overnight. Another lesson that can be learned from conspiracism is that arguing with hard‐line conspiracists is simply useless. However, it is conceivable that suitable sources can be created for all those curious readers who might be exposed to iʿjāz, are still half‐hearted about it, and are looking for other ways to reconcile science and religion. For instance, one can think of a website addressing, in encyclopedic and popular form, major pseudoscientific myths emerged in iʿjāz but also pseudoscience in Islamic garb. An introductory main page might emphasize the process that led to create it, its authorship, and explain pivotal notions such as the ones we have observed above: the importance of peer review and of fact‐checking, as well as the harmfulness of pseudoscience and conspiracism. Each entry may then focus on a specific issue, analogously to Wikipedia and similar hypertexts. It can be discussed whether individual iʿjāz producers who have endorsed a myth need be mentioned or not. Perhaps their authorship should not be emphasized, this both in order to avoid getting entangled into ad personam criticism as well as lending visibility to those authors, but also in order to pre‐empt shifts in the endorsement of such myths. In other words, what we are sketching here is a critical catalog of “errors” and not of “errants.” Specific sections in each entry may be dedicated to explaining in plain terms (1) which Qur’ānic passage(s) is/are referred to, and (2) why the myth is actually flawed and pseudoscientific; a final section (3) may reference several major scientists and thinkers who have endorsed a non‐pseudoscientific take on the same matter, with precise bibliographic indications for those readers who are interested in deepening the topic.

Such an initiative might be interesting both as a local project, based at a single university and coordinating various departments, or as a major one, involving different universities. In a more ambitious form it could be launched both in Arabic and English with a significant amount of entries. Afterwards it could be updated on a constant basis along lines analogous to which Wikipedia is run, and translation of the entries into other languages (Turkish, Urdu, Malay, Bahasa Indonesia just to mention a few) may be encouraged. If the intended readership is a Muslim one, the promoters of such a project might address pseudonotions and fallacious forms of thought typical of iʿjāz, while at the same time showing that endorsing such criticism and entertaining the correct notion regarding the phenomena at stake is not necessarily challenging for Islam and is, in fact, a position represented by notable Muslim authors prominent in their respective fields. Interdisciplinarity, high professionalism, interfaith (Sunni/Shi'i) and interreligious angles can be striven for while building the team working on such enterprise, and be effectively communicated while presenting their achievements to the general public.

On an optimistic note for those who might be interested in embarking on such a project, one can observe that this kind of enterprise can implement work patterns and strategies that have already proven viable and successful in other projects. There are notable precedents for interreligious and interdisciplinary collaboration in setting up major academic conferences. A recent project has been successful in cataloging YouTube videos about Islam and science including numerous examples of iʿjāz ones. Web sites aimed at debunking pseudoscientific/conspiracist narratives already exist, as well as scattered and unsystematic attempts at criticizing iʿjāz through websites.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I wrote this article while I was generously supported by the Foundation for Interreligious and Intercultural Research and Dialogue (FIIRD) in Geneva. I express gratitude to FIIRD Director Claudine Korall as well as to the members of the Scientific Committee of FIIRD and to FIIRD fellows Nael Georges, Aude Jehan‐Robert, Einat Klafter, Luca Patrizi, Ana Petrache, Goran Sekulovski, Khairy Shaarawy, and Elena Zapponi for their stimulating input. I heartily thank for their suggestions and corrections Zygon's two anonymous reviewers as well as Reda Abid and Ali Djedidi. I likewise thank Matteo Barbato for calling my attention to some pseudo‐academic articles. The article is dedicated to Paolo Attivissimo, whose accurate work, wit, and independence of thought highly inspired me.