As I’ve delved into the concept of Islamophilia—an admiration or fascination with Islam, its culture, and its people—I’ve realized it’s a topic far more intricate than it first appears.
By Dr. Tim Orr
As I’ve delved into the concept of Islamophilia—an admiration or fascination with Islam, its culture, and its people—I’ve realized it’s a topic far more intricate than it first appears. While Islamophilia often emerges as a counterbalance to Islamophobia, I’ve come to see that beneath this seemingly positive disposition lies a labyrinth of complexities and hidden motives. From the reverence for Islamic scholarship in medieval Europe to the modern West’s engagement with Islamic culture, Islamophilia has played a dual role. It has been a bridge to understanding and, at times, a subtle tool for domination. In this exploration, I’ll examine historical and contemporary examples of Islamophilia, shedding light on the ideological, political, and cultural biases that have shaped Western perceptions of the Islamic world, focusing on the insights of contemporary thinker Douglas Murray.
During the Middle Ages, Islamic scholarship profoundly influenced the Christian West, particularly in science, medicine, philosophy, and mathematics. Islamic Spain, known as Al-Andalus, became a hub for intellectual exchange where Muslim, Christian, and Jewish scholars worked together to preserve and expand knowledge. European scholars eagerly translated key Islamic texts into Latin, bringing the works of figures like Avicenna (Ibn Sina) and Averroes (Ibn Rushd) into European universities (Huff, 2017).
Yet, I can’t help but question whether this admiration was purely about intellectual pursuit or if it was also driven by a desire to control Islamic knowledge for Europe’s benefit. While there was genuine respect for these contributions, the selective adoption of this knowledge—often stripped of its original cultural and religious context—suggests a more complicated relationship. Historian Charles Burnett (2000) points out that this period of translation and assimilation can be seen as both an acknowledgment of Islamic intellectual prowess and a strategic move to bolster European dominance.
The Renaissance brought a resurgence of classical learning and a fascination with the broader world, including the Islamic East. Europeans feared and admired the Ottoman Empire. Renaissance humanists like Erasmus and Petrarch viewed the Ottomans as cultured adversaries, and they envied and admired the grandeur of the Ottoman court (Goffman, 2002).
However, I wonder if this admiration was mixed with ulterior motives. The Ottomans often served as a tool to critique European society’s perceived flaws. The fascination with the "exotic" Ottoman world might have been a strategic nod to their power, necessary for diplomatic or military engagement. As Edward Said argues in his seminal work Orientalism (1978), this romanticization of the Ottoman Empire could serve both to admire and contain a powerful rival.
Fast forward to the 19th century, and we see a wave of Romanticism in Europe, characterized by a fascination with the exotic and the "Other," with Islam often at the center of this interest. Figures like Lord Byron and Richard Burton immersed themselves in Islamic culture, often portraying it with a mix of admiration and mystique (Matar, 1999).
But when I dig deeper, it becomes clear that this romanticized Islamophilia often projected Western fantasies onto the Islamic world, reducing its rich complexity to a set of tropes that satisfied European imaginations. While these figures genuinely engaged with Islamic culture, their works often reinforced Orientalist stereotypes, depicting Islam as a land of sensuality, mysticism, and adventure rather than a multifaceted civilization. Scholar Raymond Schwab (1984) notes that this form of Islamophilia can be viewed as a way for the West to "other" Islam—admiring it from a distance while maintaining a sense of superiority.
The British colonial period in India offers another striking example of how Islamophilia intertwines with power dynamics. The British Empire often saw Islam as challenging its rule, but there was also a deep admiration for Islamic culture, especially in areas like architecture and law. British administrators even employed Muslim scholars to study and codify Islamic law, creating the Anglo-Muhammadan legal system (Metcalf, 1982).
But was this admiration sincere, or was it more about colonial control? The British fascination with Islamic culture often involved selectively admiring elements aligned with their values while dismissing or altering those that didn’t. Historian Bernard Cohn (1996) suggests that this selective Islamophilia served the colonial agenda, allowing the British to present themselves as enlightened rulers who respected local traditions while simultaneously undermining the autonomy of Muslim communities.
In the 19th and early 20th centuries, France’s colonial endeavors in North Africa were accompanied by a form of Islamophilia that admired Islamic architecture, art, and customs. French administrators and military officers often admired the Islamic world, which is evident in their efforts to preserve and restore Islamic monuments and incorporate Islamic motifs into French colonial architecture (Julien, 1970).
However, I’ve come to see that this admiration was deeply paternalistic. While French Islamophilia promoted the aesthetic and cultural aspects of Islam, it often came with an agenda to "civilize" the Muslim population, aligning them with French cultural norms. Scholar Julia Clancy-Smith (2011) highlights how this admiration, therefore, can be seen as a tool of cultural domination, where the French admired certain aspects of Islamic culture while simultaneously seeking to reshape it according to their colonial ideals.
The interwar period saw a renewed interest in Islam, particularly in the context of modernism and reform. Disillusioned with the aftermath of World War I, Western intellectuals and political figures looked to the Islamic world for alternative models of governance and spirituality. The rise of Islamic modernist movements attracted Western attention, with figures like T.E. Lawrence engaging with Islamic culture in ways that both romanticized and influenced the Middle East (Mack, 1976).
From a polemical perspective, this Islamophilia can be seen as another form of Western projection. The fascination with Islamic modernism often reflected Western desires to find or create parallels between Islam and Western secularism rather than a genuine interest in understanding Islam on its terms. Historian Albert Hourani (1983) points out that this selective admiration aligned Islamic thought with Western ideologies, sometimes marginalizing other expressions of Islam that didn’t fit neatly into this framework.
In today’s world, Islamophilia takes on various forms, from a growing interest in Sufism and Islamic spirituality to admiration for Islamic art and architecture. Western universities have established Islamic studies programs, and Islamic culture is increasingly incorporated into mainstream art, literature, and fashion. But why does this phenomenon persist?
Douglas Murray offers a compelling analysis. He argues that contemporary Islamophilia is often rooted in a mix of guilt, fear, and a yearning for social cohesion. In the wake of 9/11 and the subsequent rise of Islamophobia, many in the West have sought to counteract this negativity by embracing aspects of Islamic culture. This, Murray suggests, is partly driven by a sense of guilt over Western colonialism and the perceived injustices done to Muslim communities. By idealizing Islam, some hope to atone for these historical wrongs (Murray, 2017).
However, Murray also points out that fear plays a significant role. In a world where terrorism is often linked to radical Islamist groups, some Westerners may adopt a stance of admiration towards Islam as a way to distance themselves from accusations of bigotry or to appease those who might take offense. This kind of Islamophilia, according to Murray, is not rooted in genuine respect or understanding but in a fear of conflict and a desire to maintain social harmony at any cost.
This ties into Murray’s broader critique of the West’s approach to Islam, where he argues that the promotion of "moderate" Islam by Western institutions is often an attempt to reshape Islamic identity in ways that align with Western values. This selective admiration risks reinforcing existing power dynamics and cultural appropriation, where only those aspects of Islam that fit neatly into the Western worldview are celebrated, while others are marginalized or ignored.
Reflecting on the historical and contemporary manifestations of Islamophilia, it's clear that the admiration for Islam is wrapped up in a complex web of motivations and implications. Whether driven by genuine respect, strategic interests, or cultural projection, Islamophilia has often acted as a double-edged sword, fostering both understanding and misunderstanding between the Islamic world and the West. By critically examining these examples and incorporating insights from thinkers like Douglas Murray, we can better understand the dynamics at play, allowing us to approach Islamic civilization with a more nuanced and respectful engagement. In doing so, we move beyond the superficialities of admiration and work towards fostering a truly equitable and meaningful dialogue between cultures.