Ibn Sina: A Philosopher of Hope – Tariq bin Hisham Muqbil

A review of the book Avicenna and the Aristotelian Left by Ernst Bloch

Amidst the prevailing atmosphere of Islamophobia in our contemporary society, Bloch’s study stands out as a remarkable accomplishment. It masterfully reveals how Avicenna’s interpretation of Aristotle serves as one of the concealed foundations of European modernity. The notion that Islamic thought played a fundamental role in shaping our concepts of freedom and liberation may come as a surprise to some. If this revelation shocks you, then I strongly recommend reading Bloch’s book. Despite its initial publication almost a century ago, the significance of this book remains pertinent and timely. – Slavoj Žižek

1. Introduction

In 1936, Ernst Bloch, a prominent Marxist thinker, wrote an enthusiastic letter to his friend Horkheimer, informing him of his collection of narratives about several materialists, including Ibn Rushd, Ibn Gabirol, and Giordano Bruno. This personal notebook seems to have served as the foundation for the book currently in our possession. In 1952, the author published an article titled Avicenna اund die Aristotelische Linke in the magazine Sinn und Form. Subsequently, he expanded upon it, releasing it as a book later that same year and revising it for a subsequent publication in 1972. The book is also included in Bloch’s complete works, published by Suhrkamp in Frankfurt, and has been translated into Arabic by Professor Dr. Muhammad al-Turki and published among the works of the Tunisian Academy of Sciences, Letters, and Arts.

I hope this review serves as a concise introduction to the thought of Ernst Bloch, the philosopher of hope, whose works warrant careful consideration in Arabic. In this review, I have endeavored to maintain a focused approach, encapsulating the book’s most prominent ideas while employing clear language that simplifies Bloch’s sometimes complex prose. This effort aims to make the book accessible to a wider audience beyond academic specialists. Indeed, the time is ripe for Bloch’s ideas to gain recognition, not only for the reasons cited by Slavoj Žižek but also because humanity’s current predicament, exacerbated by the COVID-19 pandemic, demands a search for rational signs and objective hope.

Truly God has the power to relieve the world of its calamity.

2. Glimpses from the Writer’s Life

Born in Ludwigshafen in 1885, Ernst Bloch spent his childhood in his hometown before pursuing philosophical studies at the universities of Würzburg and Munich in 1905. Under the guidance of the renowned Kantian Hermann Cohen, Bloch earned his doctorate in philosophy. He then moved to Berlin, where he studied under the sociologist Georg Simmel and met the philosopher and critic Georg Lukács. Bloch remained in Berlin until 1911 before relocating to Garmisch and Heidelberg, where he joined Max Weber’s circle. In 1917, Bloch and his wife immigrated to Switzerland, settling in Bern. During his time in Switzerland, Bloch completed his first significant philosophical works, including his seminal book The Spirit of Utopianism (“Geist der Utopie”). During this time, he met Walter Benjamin, who would later become one of his closest friends.

During the 1920s, Bloch extensively moved and traveled throughout Europe. He resided in multiple cities and produced a significant body of work. During this time, he also forged connections with notable personalities, including Theodor Adorno. Compelled by the prevailing political climate, Bloch left for the United States of America and remained there until 1949. It was during this time in the US that Bloch completed the initial version of his seminal work, The Principle of Hope (“Das Prinzip Hoffnung”). He penned portions of the manuscript within Harvard University’s Widener Library. Enticed by an offer to assume the position of philosophy chair at the University of Leipzig, Bloch returned to Germany in 1949. It was at this point that he began lecturing as a university professor for the first time, entering the academic field at the age of sixty-four. However, his political stances led to a ban on his teaching in 1957.

In 1961, after four years, Bloch was appointed as a visiting professor of philosophy at the esteemed University of Tübingen. During this time, he dedicated most of time-schedule to his students. On November 17 of that same year, he delivered his inaugural public lecture, titled Can Hope Fail? (“Kann Hoffnung enttaüscht werden?”), solidifying his position as one of the prominent intellectuals in the field of philosophy at Tübingen. Bloch remained committed to writing, lecturing, and advocating for hope throughout the rest of his life, while also extending a helping hand to those facing persecution. Bloch remained actively engaged in teaching philosophy to his students and revised his complete works, which spanned across sixteen volumes. Bloch passed away in the summer of 1977 at the age of ninety-two.

3. An Overview of the Book’s Concepts

This relatively brief work, comprising only 67 pages in its German original, is structured into two distinct parts: the main text and an appendix. The appendix features a collection of quotations from Ibn Sina and other notable figures, accompanied by the author’s concise commentary and explanations. These excerpts are used to support the ideas presented in the main body of the work. Our focus will primarily be on the main text, with references to specific page numbers drawn from the Arabic translation. These citations will be enclosed in square brackets [ ]. Additionally, we will occasionally incorporate German (and rarely, Latin) terms from the original text, whenever deemed beneficial and enriching.

Bloch inaugurates his work with a succinct overview of the dynamic flow of ideas throughout history, their enduring vitality, and his intended approach in the book. By doing so, Ibn Sina’s thought is recontextualized, and he is bestowed with a new perspective that he himself might not have envisioned. Bloch asserts that the significance of an idea lies in its continual reexamination and reinterpretation across different eras and locations. Rather than remaining static, ideas undergo transformations, a phenomenon exemplified by the contributions of Muslim thinkers, whom he designates as “Eastern thinkers,” to Greek thought. Bloch declares, “They saved the Greek light and also contributed to its development”[53]. Just as Ibn Sina carved a new path from Aristotle’s teachings, Bloch illuminates Ibn Sina with fresh insights, aligning with his own project and the conditions of the twentieth century.

In the second section of the book, which is structured into unnumbered sections of varying lengths, Bloch presents a concise biography of Ibn Sina and an overview of his works. He subsequently acknowledges the profound debt that European thought owes to Oriental Scholasticism (orientalischen Scholastic). Unlike much of the prevailing Western thought, Oriental Scholasticism “represents a significant source of Enlightenment philosophy” [56], owing to its vital, materialistic, and non-Christian interpretation of Aristotle. Bloch highlights that “there exists a philosophical current that starts with Aristotle and extends to Giordano Bruno and the pervasive nature of matter, rather than concluding with Thomas Aquinas and the eschatological mind. Ibn Sina, alongside Ibn Rushd, stands as one of the earliest and most significant figures in this intellectual movement”.[56] In essence, this encapsulates the book’s core content, which will be explored further in the following sections, with the grace of God.

The subsequent section of the book, titled “Greek Commercial Cities and Intellectual Ground,” further contextualizes the study within its social and historical framework. Bloch emphasizes there the distinctions between the foundations of the Arab world during that era and the foundations of Europe during the early Middle Ages. The Arabs relied on industry, trade, and the exchange of goods, which set them apart. Additionally, the scientific atmosphere differed, with the author suggesting that the brilliance emanating from the Arab world was “a light (licht) that exceeded in its movement the light of the European monastic schools and the universities that branched out from them after that” [58]. He also introduces the concept of “liberal thought (freigeistige Gesinnung)” [59], which originated in Baghdad and spread to the Far West. He observes that philosophers with scientific inclinations were a rarity in medieval Europe, while the opposite held true for Arab scholastics. In their writings, the natural sciences held precedence over theology [60].

In the fourth chapter, the author talks about the relationship between science and religion among Muslim philosophers. Here the author draws a comparison between Ibn Sina and his followers and Christian scholasticism, and concludes that although the ancients acknowledged faith, they believed that the task of philosophy was to give priority to evidence over faith [61-62], and that revelation is nothing but a metaphor for rational wisdom – which is an idea whose origins go back to Neo-Platonism [69]. In contrast, from Anselm of Canterbury to Thomas Aquinas, revelation held unchallenged authority, and rational truth was subordinate to ecclesiastical doctrine. Wisdom was deemed a preparatory step towards revelation [62-63]. Bloch even goes further to say that Ibn Sina did not accept the hypothesis that the content of revelation agrees with rational knowledge (“die Vernunfterkenntnis”) [69]. As for the fifth section, the author devotes it to the famous philosophical novel Hayy ibn Yaqzan written by Ibn Tufayl, which is considered one of the first philosophical stories. It resonated deeply within European literature, even inspiring Daniel Defoe’s novel Robinson Crusoe. The novel’s central idea is attributed to Ibn Sina, who envisioned a human being’s existence in complete isolation from society, yet guided towards intellectual enlightenment [70]. Bloch’s interpretation suggests that this novel, drawing upon Ibn Sina’s Oriental philosophy [72], reinforced the Enlightenment’s belief in reason’s sufficiency, independent of faith [71].

The title of the sixth section of the book is “Aristotle – Ibn Sina and the Earthly Essences,” which serves as the fundamental conceptual part of the book. In this section, the author, Bloch, presents his central thesis. Initially, the author explains that what sets Ibn Sina’s philosophy apart is his emphasis on a philosophical orientation that originates from Aristotle and extends to Giordano Bruno and his followers, rather than Thomas Aquinas. Bloch suggests referring to this trend as the “Aristotelian left” (Aristotelische Linke), drawing a parallel to the Hegelian left [76]. Ibn Sina represents the turning point within this movement, as he built upon the Aristotelian notion of matter and form and elevated the divine power itself as an active force within matter [78].

In other words, in this book, Bloch proposes that Aristotle’s philosophy gave rise to two main streams of thought after his time: the Aristotelian right and the Aristotelian left. The right-wing movement emerged from the Christian scholastic interpretation of Aristotle, particularly exemplified by figures like Thomas Aquinas, and it formed the core of European idealist philosophy. On the other hand, the Aristotelian left represents a distinct “interpretation” of Aristotle’s philosophy. It originated with Strato, the third head of the Peripatetic school, and gained momentum with Ibn Sina, who became a central figure in this trend. From Ibn Sina, the movement continued evolving and reached its culmination in Marx in the twentieth century. Bloch argues that Marxist philosophy (and dialectical materialism) owes a debt to Ibn Sina. There are significant differences between these two streams of thought, with the most notable distinction being the interpretation of the Aristotelian concept of matter and form. While the European Right relegated matter to a state of mere potentiality (der bloßen Potentialität),[78] the Left elevated matter’s status in terms of ability and action. This topic will be further explored and discussed in the book.

Consequently, what are the salient characteristics of Ibn Sina’s “leftism”? Or, in other words, how did Ibn Sina “normalize” Aristotelian thought? Bloch identifies three fundamental aspects that, in his view, define the features of Ibn Sina’s leftist movement, which are as follows:

1. The Relationship of the Body to the Soul (Leib und Seele): Ibn Sina maintained that the soul is immortal, meaning it endures beyond the dissolution of the body, which occurs at death. This aligns with the Quranic teachings, but in a departure that reflects his leftist leanings, he rejected the notion of bodily resurrection, the physical reanimation of the deceased. Consequently, only the soul is resurrected, not the body, and as Ibn Sina perceived it, the soul experiences neither bliss nor torment in the afterlife.[79] Bloch infers a socio-religious dimension from this Avecennian separation of soul and body in the afterlife, a concept absent among medieval Christian thinkers. This doctrine “liberated, at least, those who embraced it from the fear of eternal torment”.[80] It is therefore unsurprising, in Bloch’s view, that the church authorities relentlessly persecuted those who denied the afterlife.[80]
2. The Unity of Human Perception: Aristotle did not address the relationship between the active intellect and the unity of human perception. This concept was absent from his writings due to his unequal treatment of humanity. Aristotle distinguished between Greeks and non-Greeks, considering the latter to be slaves by nature [81]. In turn, this issue of the active intellect and its relation to human unity occupied both Ibn Sina and Ibn Rushd. With a moral insight that surpassed Aristotle’s, they recognized that the active intellect represents the unity of the human intellect (Einheit des Intellekts im Menschengeschlecht). Effectively, the active intellect became a fully human reason [81]. In Ibn Sina’s perspective on the unity of perception, Bloch writes that the theory of the unity of the mind “asserts that all people share one mind, and that the collective mind of humanity forms an indivisible unity”.[82-83] He subsequently adds that the implication of Ibn Sina’s unity of intellect is “a new tone of tolerance,” and that “the fully effective mind carries within it a dedication to the concept of peace, meaning peace for all”.[84] This idea, therefore, unsettled the minds of the clergy and was deemed heretical.[83] In essence, Ibn Sina’s advocacy for the unity of the human mind effectively leveled the playing field, granting all individuals equal capacity to attain truth. In doing so, he “democratized” knowledge and abolished intellectual class distinctions. The two English translators of the book aptly summarizes this point in these words:

“This move… democratizes access to truth, contrasting it against an Aristotelian Right that claimed privileged epistemological insight.”

3. The Ontology of Matter, or the Relationship between Matter and Form (die Stoff-Form-Beziehung angeht): One of the cornerstones of the Aristotelian Left lies in redefining the relationship between Aristotle’s concepts of matter and form, a task undertaken by Ibn Sina. While Ibn Sina was not the first to develop the Aristotelian concept, it is through his work that we can discern a distinct school of thought in this regard.[84-85] In light of this, two questions arise: What is Aristotle’s concept of matter? And what transformation did the leftist movement bring about?

Addressing the first question: It is crucial to emphasize Aristotle’s distinction between matter and form. He “conceives the natural body as consisting of matter, which he refers to as the origin, and form, which restores unity to matter and imparts a particular essence to it.” In other words, according to Aristotle, “matter is the source of the body’s extension in space, while form is responsible for its unity and intrinsic properties.” These two principles “are the basis of Aristotle’s metaphysical philosophy and by them he explains the world.” Bloch’s specific concern lies in the quality and vitality of both matter and form according to Aristotle. Aristotle perceived matter as indeterminate, and viewed it as representing a negative and inactive force “in a state of potentiality or in the process of being.”[86] “As for the form (the final cause or the perfected state of something, an etlechia, or the purpose of the thing) it is the sole active and catalyst and effective agent.”[76-77] Aristotle suggests that matter has the capacity to “receive” action, is acted upon ad doesn’t act, while action itself stems from the form, which possesses the primacy of movement and effectiveness [86]: “The active and self-realizing form is the only phenomenon that Aristotle considers to be a force for action and a movement on the path to achievement”.[86] For further clarification, I quote Professor Husayn Muruwwa’s explanation of the nature of Aristotelian matter as: “pure potentiality, devoid of definite characteristics, functioning solely as a carrier or receptacle for the form. As such, matter is essentially passive, with its only contribution to existence being the acceptance of the form through which something actualizes.” Aristotle succinctly expresses this idea in his work on the soul, stating that “matter represents potentiality while form embodies effectiveness.”[128]

Having grasped Aristotle’s distinction between matter and form, we now turn to Ibn Sina and his reconfiguration of this relationship, which forms the crux of our second question. Ibn Sina followed Aristotle’s lead in separating form from matter, but he did so in a way that elevated the significance of matter. This marks the fundamental divergence between the Aristotelian Right and the Left: “Matter, then, is an eternal essence, like form, and it is not the simple being that loses its own existence.”[88] This is to say that “the left-Aristotelian approach reached, through a modification of the relationship of matter and form, an effective conception of matter (aktiv begriffenen), and not a mechanical conception of it (mechanistisch begriffenen).”[90] In other words, Ibn Sina elevated matter “from the circle of pure potentiality to the sphere of effectiveness as well, and gave it the role of influencing the process of existence.” Thus, Ibn Sina’s work, as interpreted by Dr. Tayyib Tizini, “sets aside the notion of the independent existence of form based on matter and emphasizes the dialectical unity between matter and form. This unity is seen as reflecting the interconnectedness of the processes of formation, transformation, and development in the material world”. Having briefly examined the concepts of matter and form according to Ibn Sina, as understood by Professor Bloch and explained in secondary sources, should we not allow Ibn Sina to speak for himself? In the theology section of his book Al-Shifāʾ, Ibn Sina, al-shaykh al-raʾīs, states:

“Corporeal matter cannot exist devoid of form in a true sense.”

“Matter cannot exist independently,” meaning independently of form.

“Matter is the entity through which existence is realized, while form actualizes this potential.”

“In summary, while material form serves as a cause for matter’s action and completion, matter also influences its own existence by virtue of its unique characteristics. If, as you have learned, the principle of existence lies beyond matter, then both matter and form inevitably cause each other in some aspect, and their relationship is reciprocal and not unidirectional.”

Note that Ibn Sina’s emphasis on the effectiveness of matter does not imply absolute autonomy. He maintained that an external cause, divine intervention, is still necessary to resurrect and awaken the potential inherent within matter.[88] In other words, Ibn Sina grants matter greater effectiveness and a more pronounced impact, endowing it with vitality and a spirit that elevates it closer to the level of form. This viewpoint aligns with Bloch’s materialist Marxist tendencies, although it appears that he failed to completely dismiss the role of the divine when drawing upon Ibn Sina’s ideas, as this seems to be the case he is attempting to argue.[90]

We have seen earlier, that, according to Bloch, Christian scholasticism, as represented by Thomas Aquinas, does not follow a single pattern and cannot simply be labeled as Aristotelian right-wing. In the seventh section of his book, titled “The Influence of Ibn Sina on [Thomas] Aquinas, and the Matters That Aquinas Rejected,” he goes deeper into this notion, exploring the points of convergence and divergence between the right and the left, with a focus on Thomas Aquinas. Bloch acknowledges that Christian scholasticism is not a monolithic entity but rather encompasses diverse perspectives, making it challenging to label it solely as the Aristotelian Right. This observation is further supported by the common ground between Aquinas, a prominent figure in Christian scholasticism, and Ibn Sina, particularly in epistemology, specifically with regard to the problem of universals (das Universalienproblem).[91-92] Despite these areas of agreement, the fundamental disagreement between Aquinas and Ibn Sina, as previously mentioned, centers on the conception of matter, which Bloch revisits, this time from Aquinas’ perspective. Aquinas, unlike Avicenna and Averroes, who sought to reduce the Aristotelian distinction between forms and substances, emphasized “the duality of paradoxical forms and immanent forms in a way that surpassed Aristotle’s view.” Aquinas established a transcendent divinity [92] and placed “the first power of creation, that is, the transcendent movement of God,” at the core of the cosmological center, “transforming it into an absolutely efficient cause with the capacity to create and exist”.[96] In the context of the last question of the matter-form relationship, Bloch highlights that Ibn Sina believed that the possible existence of beings emanates from the necessary existence [96-97]. This element surely carries a religious significance. However, this does not imply that matter has no role in Aquinas’ conception, for “even matter itself plays an important role for Thomas Aquinas: it is the principle of individuality, and thus it is considered a basic condition in determining multiplicity within the kind.”[98]

In the following section, Bloch shifts the focus to the impact of the Aristotelian Left on the anti-church movement (die Anti-Kirche). He highlights that the influence of Ibn Sina’s concept of matter extended to heretics and others, manifesting as a movement in reality with effects that could even lead to violence.[101] Bloch specifically focuses on two figures who took Ibn Sina’s ideas and formulated them in a way that advanced “leftist materialism” to a higher level: Ibn Gabirol and Giordano Bruno. Ibn Gabirol, who based on a Plotinian concept, proposed the notion of universal matter (materia universalis), which branches out into all layers of the cosmos and serves as the foundation of its unity, surpassing forms [102-103] Professor Dr. Zainab Al-Khudayri explains this concept succinctly: “Ibn Gabirol’s addition to the Avicennan concept of primary matter as the belief in a third primary matter, which the previously mentioned first and second matters share. This third matter, referred to as absolute universal matter, acts as a carrier for forms and matters.” On the other hand, Giordano Bruno takes a more radical approach, setting aside the presence of religion in the matter and form issue and elevating the role and significance of matter to an even greater extent than his predecessor, Ibn Gabirol: “Unlike what has been stated before, matter (i.e. according to Bruno), becomes self-fertilizing, self-expressing and completely independent.”[104]. Bruno went further, asserting that matter is the primary source of existence, while form is secondary. He proclaimed matter to be the mother of all forms, and that no fundamental difference exists between them (und zwischen Materie – Form ist keinerlei realer Substanzunterschied) [105], a statement reflecting a pantheistic perspective.

After establishing his concept of matter and form, Bloch takes us into a significant issue related to the relationship between religion and morality, with Ibn Sina taking the forefront once again. At the core of Bloch’s discussion lies the concept of natural moral law (das natürliche Sittengesetz), with justice as its foundational virtue. This law, through the principle of justice, unites all human beings regardless of their beliefs.[110-111] Bloch argues that this natural moral law reveals the best aspect of religion: its “secular” core (nicht-religiöser Kern), which is reflected in moral life (Sittlichkeit),[111] and this perspective aligns quite perfectly with Hegelian thought. Bloch proceeds to provide examples of this natural religion, including the novel Hayy bin Yaqzan, Roger Bacon, and Spinoza. Ibn Tufayl’s novel Hayy bin Yaqzan, inspired by Ibn Sina and connected to Ibn Rushd, aims to demonstrate that humans can acquire not only knowledge of God and nature but also the wisdom of virtue (Weisheit der Tugend) without relying on positive religion (positiven Religion).[111] Bloch further explains, within this context of “normalization,” that God’s attributes serve as examples for humans to emulate. Accordingly, Maimonides stated that our knowledge of God is limited to those divine attributes that have a connection to humans. Roger Bacon, a figure who exemplifies Europe’s Enlightenment reception of Eastern naturalism (der morgenländische Naturalismus), asserted that moral law is universal and applicable to all human beings, equally affects them, and has the capacity to encompass the content of any future imagined universal religion (Universalreligion).[112-113] This idea is also present in Spinoza, who sought to prove that the essence of religion does not lie in adherence to specific beliefs but in human morality (humanen Gesinnung) and its practical manifestations. In concluding this section, Bloch posits that Ibn Sina sought to transform religion into a pursuit of “improvement” (Besserung),[112-113] which I interpret as moral refinement.

In the eleventh section of the book, titled “The Transformation of Aristotle by the Left, and the Left’s Self-Transformation,” the author provides a summary of the book’s central theme. This can be summarized in that there are two fundamental processes at play: The first process involves the the left’s development of the Aristotelian concept of matter. According to the leftists who follow al-shaykh al-raʾīs, matter is understood as “something that carries its own images within itself and propels them towards realization through its movement.”[117] This perception aligns with Marx’s observation in his book The Holy Family, where he wrote: “Among the properties inherent in matter, movement represents its foremost and paramount activity.”[117] Thus, the first shift undertaken by the Aristotelian left was the “activation of matter” (die Aktivierung der Materie).[118] The second process involves the self-development of the Left. Building upon Ibn Sina’s ideas, the Left elevated his concept to a higher level, as exemplified by Giordano Bruno. Bruno envisioned the possibility of fully realizing matter in the universe, once and for all,”[118] implying that matter not only exhibits activity but also becomes pregnant with the future, capable of being represented in ever-renewing images (immer neuen) and moving towards what has not yet been actualized (noch nicht herausgebrachten). Consequently, it can be asserted that the second phase of the transformation of the concept of matter entailed expanding the scope of matter’s effectiveness. As Professor Bloch puts it, it is “a transformation concerned with the horizon of possibilities for matter” (den Horizont der Stoff-Möglichkeit).[119-120]

In the final section preceding the quote section of our concise book, Bloch turns his attention to art and its role in the generation of matter and imagery. This section reflects Bloch’s deep-seated fascination with art and its ability to embody the principles of hope and utopia. The section asserts that art brings matter into actuality, and the artist serves as the liberating and perfecting force of matter, bringing forth “with all clarity the formations that matter carries.” In other words, the Aristotelian Left can be understood through the lens of aesthetic theory, where art is recognized for its ability to emancipate images from within pregnant matter and manifest images that exist in the confine of possibility, similar to how the artist is viewed as the one who bestows upon nature a second nature, as per Goethe’s words.[124-125] Bloch concludes with words that clarify his utopian approach and thought: “The open truth lies in the incompleteness of matter” (unbeendeten Materie).[126]

After providing an overview of the main part of the book, it would be beneficial to include a summary of Bloch’s work, including this book and his others, as written by Professor Abdul Ghaffar Makkawi:

“Bloch’s work presents a novel understanding of matter, where he traces its lineage as limitless potential from Aristotle to Ibn Sina, Ibn Rushd, and Ibn Gabirol, to the representatives of the “Aristotelian left” during the late Middle Ages. Then, from Giordano Bruno in the Renaissance until Spinoza in the seventeenth century, ultimately reaching its culmination, according to Bloch, in the dialectical and historical materialism of Marx and Engels. […] Significantly, Bloch’s expanded conception of matter far transcends the limitations of dialectical materialism. He not only recognizes its historical and economic dimensions but also establishes it as a perpetual source of renewed possibilities manifesting in diverse forms within organic and inorganic nature, in the universe, and within humanity itself. Herein lies the foundation of Bloch’s concept of “hope” and its fundamental tenet – the domain of possibility or the “not yet” – which occupies a central position in his philosophical vision.”

By following Bloch’s logical framework and extending it, Ibn Sina emerges as a theorist who lays the groundwork for the philosophy of hope, or even as a philosopher of hope, if I allow myself to utter this exaggeration.

4. Critique of the Book

As is customary with any book that delves into sensitive subjects and presents influential ideas with historical implications, our book naturally creates fertile ground for discussion, criticism, support, and objection. In this section, I will highlight some of the criticisms directed towards this book. At the outset, I wish to acknowledge my overarching concern that the book’s portrayal of Ibn Sina may not align with his own intentions, potentially attributing to him statements he never uttered. For instance, as mentioned earlier, the neutralization of religious messages may not entirely align with Ibn Sina’s own thoughts. Bloch might concur with this observation, echoing his stance in the book’s opening paragraph that every existing idea takes on a new form when revisited. He deliberately extracts inherent elements from Ibn Sina’s thought, even if Ibn Sina himself did not explicitly articulate them, just as Ibn Sina had done with Aristotle’s philosophy. Goldman and Thompson effectively articulate this concept in the following words:

“Avicenna and the Aristotelian Left [..] illuminates tendencies in bygone thought that can only be properly grasped from a later temporal perspective [..] Bloch’s treatment of the conceptual matter of Avicenna mirrors the Avicennans’ treatment of physical matter in Aristotle, invigorating it with possibilities that its original author may have overlooked.”

In her examination of Bloch’s ontology of matter and her presentation of aspects of our book, Dr. Attiyat Abu Al-Saud states: “This materialistic reading of Ibn Sina requires reflection. Was Ibn Sina, as Bloch interpreted him, a materialist philosopher? The texts of any philosopher can be subject to multiple interpretations and readings, some of which may contradict Bloch’s perspective, while others may align with it.” Dr. Abu Al-Saud also mentions that certain researchers, unlike Professor Husayn Muruwwa, posit that Ibn Sina may have abandoned his materialist inclinations in his later work, Al-Ishārāt wal-Tanbīhāt. Dr. Attiyat questions the compatibility of Bloch’s materialism with modern scientific conceptions of matter, suggesting that “Bloch highlights the shortcomings of dialectical materialism, starting with Engels and his dialectic of nature, in establishing a natural and dialectical philosophy that aligns with contemporary scientific conceptions and quantitative and mathematical methods.” She concludes that Bloch’s natural philosophy encounters “questions and problems that seem to find an answer only in theological solutions.” In this context, Professor Abdel Ghaffar Makkawi, in his discussion of Bloch’s problem of possibility, poses a fundamental question: “What is the nature of this force behind the amazing energies of creativity and renewal? And even if we try to define them, do any of these definitions fit with any physical concept of matter?”

5. The Book Within the Context of the Philosophy of Hope

In my view, Bloch’s significant contribution in this book lies in his strategic utilization of Ibn Sina’s ideas as a building block for the theory of hope. The Avicennan notion of matter-image serves as a fundamental pillar in Bloch’s philosophy of hope, which he worked to develop. Ibn Sina’s activation of matter and his recognition of its inherent potential for life solidify his position as a philosopher of hope, even if this description is applied liberally. This observation directs our attention to Bloch’s theorization of hope in his seminal work, The Principle of Hope (“Das Prinzip Hoffnung”), which was originally intended to be published under the evocative title Dreams for a Better Life.” The book was eventually released during World War II, emerging as a rational outcry against the distressing reality of that time.

The issue at hand revolves around the concept of learning hope (Es kommt darauf an, das Hoffen zu lernen), as expressed by Bloch in the introduction to his book The Principle of Hope. These words reveal Bloch’s grand project: Hope is not something innate, but rather something that can be acquired and cultivated through learning. The soul undergoes training in hope. Just like forbearance and self-restraint, such qualities are attained when practiced. However, Bloch’s vision of hope is not a mere indulgence in wishful thinking or deceptive illusions (schwindelhafte Hoffnung). Instead, he advocates for a realistic hope rooted in knowledge (Wissend-konkrete Hoffnung), which he also terms “the description of perceived and intelligible hope” (begriffene Hoffnung).

In this book, Bloch’s intention was to merge philosophy with hope or to bring philosophy to hope, as he explicitly stated. He believed that despair (Hoffnungslosigkeit) does not serve the human need. According to Bloch, hope is not merely a feeling, nor is it solely the antithesis of fear. Instead, he saw it as a purposeful action imbued with a cognitive dimension (wesentlicher als Richtungsakt kognitiver Art). Throughout history, hope has served as a catalyst for human liberation. Bloch’s encyclopedic work is replete with examples of the “realism” of hope and how it has influenced transformative movements across various domains throughout history, including literature, arts, architecture, sciences, and religion. From Bloch’s perspective, hope, which should be directed towards achieving the “highest good” (des höchsten Guts), does not entail being completely immersed in the future and relying solely on dreams of a better tomorrow. On the contrary, hope demands engagement with the present moment, a sense of presence, accomplishment, and ownership of the here and now. Given this context, a question arises: Can hope be disappointed? Do disappointments lead to this approach? Bloch answered the first question in his 1961 public lecture in the following statement:

“Even hope anchored in a solid foundation can face disappointment, otherwise it would not be truly hope. Hope, by its very nature, offers no guarantees. It is inherently bold and openly acknowledges the possibilities that depend, to some extent, on luck for their realization. And so, hope may encounter disappointment and failure. Yet, from these setbacks, hope can learn to better assess the directions and approaches it may have previously misjudged. Through destructive [or painful and bitter] experiences, hope can evolve and grow wiser, but it cannot be dissuaded from its path [or its goal].” Bloch then concludes with a quote from Hercules, conveying the idea that hope knows no bounds: “He who does not hope for what is not hoped for; he won’t find it.’”

From the perspective of the history of science, the concept of hope, as Bloch informs us, is not a novel one nor solely the product of his own thought. Rather, it possesses deep historical roots. Christians, for example, are familiar with the concept of utopia through the Book of Exodus and other parts of the Bible. Hope also finds expression in Platonic thought, in Aristotle’s principle of matter (as mentioned earlier), in Leibniz’s diverse representations of hope, in Kant’s concept of moral awareness, and in Hegel’s historical dialectic (historischen dialektik). However, these expressions differ from Bloch’s own theorization and desired form of hope.

Given the Bible’s profound influence on Bloch’s philosophy of hope and utopian thought, it is worth briefly examining his approach to biblical interpretation, which can be generalized as a model for reading sacred texts from the perspective of the principle of hope without compromising the text’s sanctity. Bloch, who dedicated the final section of his book The Principle of Hope to the Bible, attempted a detective reading of the Bible, perceiving it as containing signs with utopian implications that readers should trace, clarify, and interpret in order to tap into a “not-yet” consciousness and grasp their meaning. He believed that this approach extended beyond Judaism and Christianity, asserting that every religion carries within it a symbol that contributes to the formation of utopia. In his view, approaching the Bible solely through historical criticism, as is prevalent in Western academia and theological departments, obscures its utopian content and diverts attention from the inherent messages of hope within the sacred text. One of the most prominent examples of Bloch’s approach to reading the sacred text is his interpretation of the characters of Moses and Jesus in the Torah and the Gospel. He viewed them as symbols of liberation, emancipation, and the exodus to the kingdom of freedom (alluding to the Book of Exodus), bearers of a message of hope that could guide humanity towards enlightenment. Hence, it is not surprising that he concluded his book The Principle of Hope with the statement, “The true Book of Genesis is not at the beginning, but at the end” (Die wirkliche Genesis ist nicht am Anfang, sondern am Ende).

Bloch began the second volume of his book with the title “The Dreamer Always Asks for More” (Ein Träumer Will Immer Noch Mehr). If we apply Bloch’s method of drawing inspiration from sacred texts and perceiving the utopian meanings embedded within the words and lines, we might find whispers of this phrase – though disguised in allusion – within the Almighty’s words: “And say, ‘My Lord, increase me in knowledge.’”

6. Why Bloch. Why hope?

Bloch, as Slavoj Žižek suggests, may resonate more with our times than his own. His renewed realism, particularly his fervent hope for a better world, remains relevant and is in need of renewal. We find this exemplified by Jack Zipes in the last chapter of his book on Bloch. Zipes states that Bloch’s passionate cries for hope and transformation has become even more crucial in our contemporary context, and that it is the direction that counts, not the arrival. This idea appears to be influenced by Zipes’ extensive engagement with Bloch’s work over the years, and can also be derived from Bloch’s repetition of the assertion that life is an incomplete project, thus placing us in a continuous, ongoing journey. It has a parallel in the Quran, which emphasizes the importance of the journey and the process, rather than solely focusing on reaching the ultimate goal. It highlights that the reward remains constant, even if the desired outcome is not fully achieved: “and whoso forsaketh his home, a fugitive unto Allah and His messenger, and death overtaketh him, his reward is then incumbent on Allah.” Zipes further suggests that hope, according to Bloch, is an intrinsic force within each of us that drives us to seek improved life circumstances. Zipes further highlights Bloch’s view of hope as an inherent force motivating us to seek better lives. We hope because we are dissatisfied, recognizing that something is lacking in our lives and yearning for what is necessary to give our existence meaning.

In his latest book, Professor Abdul Hakim Murad observes that the stories presented in the Quran challenge sociology by showcasing examples of unexpected salvation. This is indeed an implicit optimistic tendency in the Quran that transcend historical inevitability. It can also be found in the Quran’s proclamation of the forthcoming conquest of Mecca in the first verse of Surat Al-Fath: “Lo! We have given thee a signal victory.” Historical sources indicate that this verse was revealed two years prior to the actual victory of Mecca. This timing suggests that the good news was conveyed during a period when it was unimaginable given the prevailing circumstances. It can be seen as symbolizing the wise principle of hope and the objective philosophy of utopianism that Bloch championed throughout his life. Ernst Bloch, who argued that philosophy should be oriented towards the future, possess an awareness of tomorrow, and embrace hope, believed that without these elements, philosophy would lose all knowledge. In my view, he is one of the most profound interpreters of the Quranic verse “and despair not of the Spirit of Allah.”

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