Basra-born AL Ahmed-Zeki's new work is the book that will change everything. Incredibly researched and teeming with expert insight, this incredible text finally asks those questions that are haram —both in the Muslim world and, more disturbingly, in Western academia. It is the ultimate tribute to the memory of Theo Van Gogh. For the previous 4 entries in Theo Van Gogh Memorial Week, press here. The time to subscribe as paid has arrived. - Daniel Clarke-Serret, Editor of Guerre and Shalom
This is the 5th entry in Theo Van Gogh Memorial Fortnight. Previous instalments were:
“True intellectual liberation requires challenging the idea that divine authority is above scrutiny.:
“Lostness of the Muslim Psyche: Preface” by AL Ahmed-Zeki
An Invitation to Read or Otherwise
I was raised in a Sunni Muslim family from Baghdad’s historic al-Azamiya الأعظمية neighbourhood, home to the Abu Hanifa Mosque— named after the founder of the Hanafi school of Sunni jurisprudence. Born in Basra in the late 1950s, I was the second child born to a British-trained Iraqi Air Force pilot who started his career flying the Hawker Sea Fury from Shi’aibah الشعيبة Air Base and a mother who had a career as a primary school teacher and principal.
As a teenager, I once asked my mother, “Why read the Qur’ān if we’re unsure of its meaning?” Her response was immediate and anxious: “This is harām! Never utter such words again.” For most Muslims, questioning the Qur’ān remains unthinkable; they regard Islam’s perseverance since the 7th century and its astounding expansion as miraculous and self-evident proof of divine truth. An uncle— a university professor with American postgraduate qualifications— around that same time returned from Egypt carrying the heavy six volumes of Sayyid Qutb’s Fi Dhilal al-Qur’ān (في ظِلالِ القرآن). My uncle knew the book was banned across the Middle East, as Qutb had been indicted and executed in Cairo in 1966 on terrorism charges. Qutb’s writings reinforced an adversarial mindset, advocated the enforcement of Islamic law worldwide, and demonised Jews as Islam’s perpetual enemies. His text is foundational for extremist movements globally, shaping generations of ideological militancy.
Like many Muslims, I read the Qur’ān from cover to cover every Ramadan out of habit and reverence. Neither I nor anyone in my family or circle of friends ever considered reading it with the intention of verification. We despised any attempt to critique the word of Allāh.
Muslims frame the Qur’ān as their moral compass and source of peace, and they are raised knowing that:
“None disputes in the ayāt (proofs, evidence, verses, lessons, signs, revelations, etc.) of Allāh but those who apostatise” (Surat Ghāfir 40:4) مَا يُجَٰدِلُ فِيٓ ءَايَٰتِ ٱللَّهِ إِلَّا ٱلَّذِينَ كَفَرُواْ — سورة غافر 4
As is customary among Muslims, I used to respond to questions about Islam based on my romanticised impressions of it.
The 2001 September 11 attacks on the Twin Towers in New York left me deeply distressed. In a related conversation with close family and friends— kind-hearted engineers who would never harm a soul— I was met with a chilling response: “They deserved it. Allāh is taking revenge for all the suffering they caused us.” That moment crystallised my growing realisation: Islam’s doctrinal rigidity produces not just reverence, but cognitive dissonance born from its own paradoxes.
For me, the year 2014 was pivotal. I vividly remember seeing an image of a Dā’esh (also ISIS or ISIL) terrorist— thuggish, with a wicked smile— wrapping his arm around the shoulders of a young Yazidi girl the terrorists enslaved. She was weeping, utterly terrified and completely helpless; the scene was excruciatingly heartbreaking. A Muslim relative of mine— a medical professional, a peaceful woman living and working in the West— responded to my agonised comments by saying, “But he is just teaching her to read the Qur’ān.” She failed to sympathise with the helpless little girl. That moment became the final straw, shattering the heavy burden of societal indoctrination that I had foolishly carried for so many years.
It was then I stood irreconcilable with religion and cultural identity, and my separation was complete.
Naming the Prison: A Forensic Autopsy
As both a father and grandfather, I’ve come to realise how destructive the psychology of externalising blame can be, and I’ve learned to value authenticity and responsibility as the foundation of a healthy mind. Over time, I’ve discovered that such simple practices are all I need for inner peace and spiritual balance. The challenge is that it takes courage to be authentic, all day, every day. I encourage my granddaughters to ask questions, not out of cynicism, but from a sincere desire to uncover deeper truths.
This spirit of curiosity and transparency has shaped my own journey, from my early days as a civil engineer across Iraq, New Zealand, and Australia, to my retirement, enriched by master’s degrees in civil engineering and public policy. I remember the joy I felt as I handed my granddaughters a beautifully illustrated book on human evolution, hoping to pass on the wonder of discovery. To my deep dismay, a nearby voice— belonging to a Muslim psychiatrist who had been living and working in a Western country for decades— responded almost as if in alarm. With hurried disapproval came the question: “Do you believe in these things?” It wasn’t intellectual scepticism— it was a reflexive act of containment, as if the book posed an existential threat that needed to be quickly neutralised.
What lingered was the reflex: a dogmatic, deep-seated need to protect the young from ideas grounded in evidence, reason, and curiosity. Muslims adhere to the Qur’ān’s verses, some of which directly contradict the theory of evolution:
“O mankind! Be dutiful to your Lord, Who created you from a single person (Adam), and from him (Adam) He created his wife [Hawwā’ حواء (Eve)], and from them both He created many men and women” (Surat An-Nisā’ 4:1) يَا أَيُّهَا النَّاسُ اتَّقُوا رَبَّكُمُ الَّذِي خَلَقَكُم مِّن نَّفْسٍ وَاحِدَةٍ وَخَلَقَ مِنْهَا زَوْجَهَا وَبَثَّ مِنْهُمَا رِجَالًا كَثِيرًا وَنِسَاءً — سورة النساء 1
“He created you (all) from a single person: then created, of like nature, his mate;” (Surat Az-Zumar 39:6) خَلَقَكُم مِّن نَّفْسٍ وَاحِدَةٍ ثُمَّ جَعَلَ مِنْهَا زَوْجَهَا — سورة الزمر 6
For many devout Muslims, daily encounters with evolutionary matters are reconciled through a mental proviso, offered in Qur’ān verses like the following:
“except for one who is forced [to renounce his religion] while his heart is secure in faith” (Surat An-Nahl 16:106) إلَّا مَن أُكرِهَ وَقَلبُهُ مُطمَئِٕنُّ بِٱلإِیمَـٰنِ — سورة النحل 106
Pascal’s Wager Re-emerges
With my help, a friend of mine— a PhD-qualified engineer living and working in a Western country— found comfort in the mosque during a personal crisis in our youth. Recently, he sought to return the favour by addressing my critique of Islam. He argued that, as engineers, we understand risk assessment; thus, even a small chance that Hell is real after death should compel belief— a form of Pascal’s wager. Clearly, the imagery of Hellfire profoundly affects Muslims’ moral reasoning, evoking trepidation when Quranic messages such as the following act as dire reminders:
“when the agony of death drew near with the Truth. That is what you were trying to evade.” (Surat Qāf 50:19) وجَاءَتْ سَكْرَةُ الْمَوْتِ بِالْحَق ذَٰلِكَ مَا كُنتَ مِنْهُ تَحِيدُ — سورة ق 19
I reminded my friend that credible risk assessment relies on reason, not emotional fear — genuine knowledge arises from rational senses, not surrender to dread.
Hayek’s Forever
Paradoxical inconsistencies then emerge, as the impetus for Fatal Conceit— perceived ultimate perfection in commanding the customary, and forbidding the reprehensible, a persistent “eminence” mentality, arising from the belief in the unique, unassailable status of Islam and its prophet — is featured in Quranic verses such as:
“while you are superior; and Allāh is with you” (Surat Mohammed 47:35) وَأَنتُمُ الْأَعْلَوْنَ وَاللَّهُ مَعَكُمْ — سورة محمد 3
“You are the best nation produced [as an example] for mankind. You enjoin what is right and forbid what is wrong” (Surat Aal-Imrān 3:110) كُنتُمْ خَيْرَ أُمَّةٍ أُخْرِجَتْ لِلنَّاسِ تَأْمُرُونَ بِالْمَعْرُوفِ وَتَنْهَوْنَ عَنِ الْمُنكَرِ — سورة آل عمران 110
“do not weaken and do not grieve, and you will be superior if you are [true] believers” (Surat Aal-Imrān 3:139) وَلَا تَهِنُوا وَلَا تَحْزَنُوا وَأَنتُمُ ٱلْأَعْلَوْنَ — سورة آل عمران 139
The Fatal Conceit, Friedrich Hayek’s original formulation, denotes the illusion of superiority and perfection. It serves as both a shield and a prison, causing a predicament that fosters intellectual complacency and resistance to deep introspection, thereby perpetuating self-inflicted dreadful outcomes (i.e. Self-Defeat).
It is the Ummah
Now I’d like to refer to the Muslim Ummah أُمّة, a term referring to the global community of Islamic believers and the “seal of communities”. Muslims aspire that, on the Day of Judgement, the Ummah will be the “Surviving Group” (الفرقة الناجية), serving as the blueprint set by the prophet Mohammed for those spared from Hellfire, a yearning shared by all believers. While the Qur’ān says:
“verily this Brotherhood of yours is a single Brotherhood, and I am your Lord and Cherisher: therefore fear Me (and no other)” (Surat Al-Mu’minūn 23:52) إِنَّ هَٰذِهِ أُمَّتُكُمْ أُمَّةً وَاحِدَةً وَأَنَا رَبُّكُمْ فَاتَّقُونِ — سورة المؤمنون 52
... Surat Ash-Shūrā 42:8 makes the definition of the Islamic Ummah clear:
“And if Allāh had willed, He could have made them one nation (Ummah), but He admits whom He wills to His Mercy, and the Dhalimūn الظالمون (those who reject Islam) will have neither a Wali وليّ (protector) nor a helper” (Surat Ash-Shūrā 42:8) وَلَوْ شَاءَ اللَّهُ لَجَعَلَهُمْ أُمَّةً وَاحِدَةً وَلَٰكِن يُدْخِلُ مَن يَشَاءُ فِي رَحْمَتِهِ وَالظَّالِمُونَ مَا لَهُم مِّن وَلِيٍّ وَلَا نَصِيرٍ — سورة الشورى 8
The global Muslim community encompasses societies of immense cultural, linguistic, jurisprudential, and ethnic diversity. Although the idea of the Ummah suggests a unified body of believers, this unity is primarily constructed and sustained due to the monocratic nature of Islam, but also through shared rituals, narratives, and emotional bonds.
Islam historically proved its effectiveness in the transferability of its cognitive architecture among non-Arabs after the Arabs. Yet Muslim communities throughout history have experienced theological, cultural, and political divisions. These fractures frequently erupted into violence, as early as the Battle of Siffin in 657 CE/37 AH, which involved, on both sides, many of the prophet Mohammed’s companions (sahāba صحابة). Tens of thousands perished in mere days during that battle, using swords and spears at close quarters. Each side claimed higher moral ground and righteousness.
Such conflicts are not incidental; they are manifestations of an enduring internal ailment. Nonetheless, there is a solid belief in a historical Islamic utopia that fuels a cycle of self-righteous grievance, trapping Muslims in a historical mirage — clinging to an imagined golden age while resisting introspection. The widespread Muslim assertion that “true” Islam inevitably brings justice and prosperity persists, despite centuries of contradiction.
In Muslim societies, faith is not merely a personal choice— it is an immersion, absorbed through family, school, media, and the mosque. Although the Ummah is massively diverse, it is the shared Ummah-consciousness that counts, not the permutations, as we learn that:
“Mohammed is the Messenger of Allāh; and those with him are forceful against the blasphemers, merciful among themselves.” (Surat Al-Fat’h 48:29) مُّحَمَّدٌ رَّسُولُ اللَّهِ وَالَّذِينَ مَعَهُ أَشِدَّآءُ عَلَى ٱلْكُفَّارِ رُحَمَآءُ بَيْنَهُم — سورة الفتح 29
Among this diverse Ummah persists a remarkably consistent narrative, a foundational aspect for the Ummah-consciousness: “The Other” is seen as a divinely ordained adversary, shaping a fundamental binary distinction between Muslims and atheists/infidels (i.e. Kuffār كفار or Mulhidūn ملحدون in a derogatory sense); the Quranic verses assert that the enemy in Islam is divinely defined:
“O you who have believed, do not take My enemy and your enemy as allies, extending to them affection while they have blasphemed in what has come to you of the truth.” (Surat Al-Mumtahanah 60:1) يَاأَيُّهَا الَّذِينَ آمَنُوا لَا تَتَّخِذُوا عَدُوِّي وَعَدُوَّكُمْ أَوْلِيَاءَ تُلْقُونَ إِلَيْهِم بِالْمَوَدَّةِ وَقَدْ كَفَرُوا بِمَا جَاءَكُم مِّنَ الْحَقِّ — سورة الممتحنة 1
“You will not find a people who believe in Allāh and the Last Day having affection for those who oppose Allāh and His Messenger, even if they were their fathers or their sons or their brothers or their kindred” (Surat Al-Mujādila 58:22) لَّا تَجِدُ قَوْمًا يُؤْمِنُونَ بِاللَّهِ وَالْيَوْمِ الْآخِرِ يُوَادُّونَ مَنْ حَادَّ اللَّهَ وَرَسُولَهُ وَلَوْ كَانُوا آبَاءَهُمْ أَوْ أَبْنَاءَهُمْ أَوْ إِخْوَانَهُمْ أَوْ عَشِيرَتَهُمْ — سورة المجادلة 22
Take a second look at Surat Al-Mujādila 22 While writing this book, I invited a female Muslim— who has lived in the West since childhood and was educated in its institutions— to engage with my work. She promptly declined. Later, when I critically remarked that the Prophet Mohammed’s explanations/tafsīr were limited to mere trivialities, she responded swiftly but calmly: “You have to be respectful.” Rather unreflective— merely a boundary maintained by a reflexive doctrinal immune system. Many more Quranic verses come with a dismal warning for the Muslim:
“Never will your relatives or your children benefit you on the Day of Resurrection; He will judge between you” (Surat Al-Mumtahanah 60:3) لَن تَنفَعَكُمْ أَرْحَامُكُمْ وَلَا أَوْلَادُكُمْ يَوْمَ الْقِيَامَةِ يَفْصِلُ بَيْنَكُمْ — سورة الممتحنة
“And believe no one unless he follows your religion.” (Surat Aal-Imrān 3:73) لَا تُؤْمِنُوا إِلَّا لِمَن تَبِعَ دِينَكُمْ — سورة آل عمران
... Ibrahīm/Abraham in Surat At-Tawbah 9:114 dissociated himself from his father by declaring him “enemy of Allāh.” Accordingly, the divine message asserts that faith overrides kinship, and moral loyalty is directed upward, not outward. Over time, such teachings quietly reshape relationships as family bonds break down— not necessarily by hostility, but by reclassification.
This is one of the subtler forms of Self-Defeat — internalised without protest, sustained by the Fatal Conceit. The Self-Defeat condition is endlessly recyclable in the Muslim psyche, underscored by the prophet Mohammed’s hadith (Jami` At-Tirmidhi, Hadith no. 2398), which translates to: “the more pious a Muslim is, the more severe his divinely assigned affliction will be, and the slave-servant (’abd العبد) shall continue to be tested by Allāh until he is left walking the earth without any sins.”
Muslim societies commonly believe that The Other aggressively stalks and targets them with the greatest evil. The Qur’ān constructs a rigid identity centred on distinguishing between “us” and “them,” a distinction that extends to anyone who repudiates Islam or those who mock Muslims:
“Have you seen if he denies and turns away” (Surat Al-’Alaq 96:13) أرَأَيْتَ إِن كَذَّبَ وَتَوَلَّىٰ — سورة العلق 13
“Have you observed him who denies the religion?” (Surat Al-Mā’un 107:1) أَرَأَيْتَ الَّذِي يُكَذِّبُ بِالدِّينِ — سورة الماعون 1
“Those who committed crimes used to laugh at those who believed; And when they passed by them, they would wink at one another” (Surat Al-Mutaffifīn 83:29-30) إِنَّ الَّذِينَ أَجْرَمُوا كَانُوا مِنَ الَّذِينَ آمَنُوا يَضْحَكُونَ؛ وَإِذَا مَرُّوا بِهِمْ يَتَغَامَزُونَ — سورة المطففين 29، 30
Defining The Other, the existential threat, in a religiously sacred context incites collective narcissistic behaviour, frequently the malignant type, and sustains it. Also, and based on modern concepts of nationalism, such an unbending definition of The Other acts as the primer for Islamic nationalism and transnationalism, the context for the Ummah, a “divinely” mandated social order.
The Ummah’s viability banks on deconstructing pluralism and individualism. This paradox reflects the Fatal Conceit, which galvanises a psyche engulfed by an inflated moral superiority, strong sense of entitlement, collective victimhood, and diminished agency rooted in dominant conspiratorial thinking.
The Fatal Conceit is sustained by mechanisms of ritualised tradition, communal alignment, and unwavering narrative loyalty. These forces tether individuals to a collective identity that deflects scrutiny and cultivates a conviction in “ultimate truth” and divinely gifted superiority. Within this framework, the perception of an external adversary effectively solidifies group cohesion, ensuring internal conformity through external dismissiveness.
It is ironic that while such a disposition can create unity by fostering a sense of shared fate rooted in common narratives and prolonged despondency, it ultimately stifles intellectual openness. As a result, it cripples the community’s ability to evolve, reflect critically, and engage with a world in flux. This is the prevailing psyche that renders democratic outcomes incapable of producing promising futures.
