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Fall 1994

World Order

THE EQUALITY OF THE RACES
EDITORIAL

SUPPORTING AN INTERNATIONAL
CONVENTION TO ELIMINATE
RACIAL DISCRIMINATION

GHETTOS OF THE MIND
WILMA M. ELLIS

THE MIDDLE EAST AND WORLD PEACE
NADER SAIEDI

HOUSES: AS PERFECT AS IS POSSIBLE
DUANE L. HERRMANN

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World Order

VOLUME 26, NUMBER 1

WORLD ORDER IS INTENDED TO STIMULATE, INSPIRE, AND SERVE THINKING PEOPLE IN
THEIR SEARCH TO FIND RELATIONSHIPS BETWEEN CONTEMPORARY LIFE AND CONTEMPORARY
RELIGIOUS TEACHINGS AND PHILOSOPHY

Editorial Board:
FIRUZ KAZEMZADEH
BETTY J. FISHER
HOWARD GAREY
ROBERT H. STOCKMAN
JAMES D. STOKES

Consultant in Poetry:
HERBERT WOODWARD MARTIN

Subscriber Service:
RHONDA SPENNER

WORLD ORDER is published quarterly by the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States, 415 Linden Avenue, Wilmette, IL 60091. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to WORLD ORDER Subscriber Service, Bahá’í National Center, Wilmette, IL 60091. The views expressed herein are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the publisher, the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States, or of the Editorial Board. Manuscripts can be typewritten or computer generated. They should be double spaced throughout, with the footnotes at the end. The contributor should send four copies—an original and three legible copies—and should keep a copy. Return postage should be included. Send manuscripts and other editorial correspondence to WORLD ORDER, 415 Linden Avenue, Wilmette, IL 60091.

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WORLD ORDER is protected through trademark registration in the U.S. Patent Office.

Copyright © 1994, National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States. All Rights Reserved. Printed in the U.S.A.
ISSN 0043-8804

IN THIS ISSUE

2   The Equality of the Races

Editorial

4   Interchange: Letters from and to the Editor

6   Supporting an International Convention to

  Eliminate Racial Discrimination

testimony by Robert C. Henderson

9   Ghettos of the Mind

by Wilma M. Ellis

15   From the Proper Angle

poem by Marlaina B. Tanny

17   Houses as Perfect as Is Possible

by Duane L. Herrmann

33   The Middle East and World Peace

by Nader Saiedi

45   From Avicenna to the Addams Family

a book review by John Danesh and

William Michael

Inside back cover: Authors & Artists in This Issue

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The Equality of the Races

THE ONENESS of humanity is an axiom of the Bahá’í Faith. The contrast between its teachings and the theorizing of Comte de Gobineau, a founding father of modern racism, could not be more striking. While the French diplomat-orientalist labored to demonstrate the inequality of races, Bahá’u’lláh, His contemporary, repudiated all separatism, all division, all prejudice based on the nebulous notion of race. Gobineau’s intellectual descendants are still active, proposing warmed-over versions of scientifically questionable theories. Their conclusions are irrelevant to those who refuse to accept the faulty premises on which such conclusions are based.

From its inception in 1894 the American Bahá’í community has stood for the equality of races and advocated their ultimate union in a single humanity. It is symbolic that the first American Bahá’í, Thornton Chase, as a Union officer led a detachment of African-American soldiers in the Civil War.

Today, as a hundred years ago, the Bahá’í community continues to struggle against the evil heritage of slavery and oppression of minorities that still bedevils this country. Bahá’ís participate or take the lead in various endeavors to bring about conciliation among African Americans, whites, native Americans, Asian Americans, Latinos, indeed all who have tasted the bitterness of discrimination. This year the Bahá’ís coordinated the activities of nongovernmental organizations that successfully worked for the ratification by the United States Senate of the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination.

Habits of mind and heart are not easily changed, but change they must if the past is to be exorcised. The ghettos in the cities will not disappear until the ghettos of the mind are destroyed. Racism will not be conquered until humanity fully accepts the divinely revealed principle of the unity of humankind.

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Interchange LETTERS FROM AND TO THE EDITOR

THIS issue of WORLD ORDER presents a diverse array of articles that include testimony from the representative of the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States before the United States Senate on the subject of eliminating all forms of racial discrimination, a discussion of the “ghettos of the mind” that prevent us from achieving the oneness of humanity, an examination of the role of the Middle East in relation to world peace, a brief biographical and doctrinal sketch of the founder of Sikhism, a discussion of the architecture of Bahá’í Houses of Worship around the world, and a review of William S. Hatcher’s Logic and Logos.

Through its Secretary-General, Robert C. Henderson, the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States on May 11, 1994, urged the Senate Foreign Relations Committee to consent to the ratification of the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination. Although the Convention was signed by the United States in 1966, it remained unratified until October 21, 1994. Robert Henderson’s testimony emphasizes the importance of American leadership in promoting the highest ideals of human rights everywhere in the world, while presenting the Bahá’í vision of a future world commonwealth.

Wilma M. Ellis, in “Ghettos of the Mind,” a commencement address delivered at Stanford University on June 11, 1994, calls for the abolition of those mental barriers that separate members of the human race from one another. Dr. Ellis’s talk reminds us that it is in the minds and hearts of every individual that the ideals promoted in Dr. Henderson’s testimony will be achieved. It is interesting to note that Stanford University was the site, in 1912, of an historic discourse by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá on the subject of the oneness of humanity.

In “The Middle East and World Peace” Nader Saiedi examines the historic and contemporary complexity of the Middle East—home of the most ancient civilizations, dawning place of monotheism, center of brilliant cultures and scientific developments in the Middle Ages, and now a battlefield of seemingly intractable and incompatible interests. Taking readers on a voyage through the social, political, philosophical, and religious history of the region, Dr. Saiedi points the way to a peaceful settlement of the issues that now torment the region.

In Duane L. Herrmann’s “Houses as Perfect as Is Possible,” readers will find a discussion of the evolution that has taken place in the architecture of Bahá’í Houses of Worship around the world and an examination of how they contribute to the oneness of humanity. Mr. Herrmann discusses the designs of the seven existing temples as well as one that was destroyed by an earthquake and three that have been designed but not yet built. His analysis offers a lesson in the meaning of unity in diversity: All of the designs for the Bahá’í Houses of Worship are based on the same [Page 5] nine-sided plan, while each represents and offers to the world an aesthetic and cultural harmony with the locality in which it stands.

John Danesh and William Michael, in “From Avicenna to the Addams Family,” review William S. Hatcher’s Logic and Logos: Essays on Science, Religion and Philosophy. It is gratifying to see in book format essays by Dr. Hatcher on the interrelationships among science, philosophy, and religion, for he has, over the years, contributed to WORLD ORDER some remarkable essays on the subject (five of which appear in the book). Danesh and Michael’s review is critical in the best sense; it is both appreciative and deeply searching.

* * *

This issue of WORLD ORDER is the fifth we have published in a row, now that we are back on a quarterly publishing schedule. The editors have, in each issue, shared their thoughts and insights with you. Now it is time to make this column what its heading says: “Letters from and to the Editor.” We look forward to concluding our next column with letters from you, our readers.

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Supporting an International
Convention to Eliminate Racial
Discrimination

ON September 28, 1966, the United States signed the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination. For the next twenty-eight years the Convention remained unratified by the country that prided itself on being the leader of the free world. It is unnecessary here to dwell on the reasons the Senate Foreign Relations Committee would not bring the Convention to the Senate floor for a vote.

For the last several years a coalition of nongovernmental organizations has worked diligently for the ratification of the Convention. The work was coordinated by the Washington office of the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States. On May 11, 1994, a final hearing was held by the Senate Foreign Relations Committee. Representatives of four nongovernmental organizations were invited to testify in favor of ratification. The testimony of the Bahá’í representative is reproduced below.

On June 24 the Senate gave its advice and consent to ratify the Convention. The President signed the Convention and deposited it with the Secretary-General of the United Nations on October 21, 1994, thus formally completing the ratification process.

THE EDITORS

STATEMENT OF DR. ROBERT C. HENDERSON, SECRETARY-GENERAL OF THE NATIONAL SPIRITUAL ASSEMBLY OF THE BAHÁ’ÍS OF THE UNITED STATES BEFORE THE FOREIGN RELATIONS COMMITTEE, U.S. SENATE, MAY 11, 1994

I AM PRIVILEGED to represent the American Bahá’í community, which is coincidentally celebrating the centenary of its establishment in this country, and has for the past one hundred years championed the principle of the unity and oneness of the human family, and the unity of the races. And I am also very pleased to present this statement for the record.

Racism is the most challenging issue confronting America. It is an insult to human dignity, a cause of hatred and division, a disease that devastates society.

The National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States unequivocally supports the ratification by the United States of the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination.

The proposal for a specialized convention on racial discrimination was a result of incidents of anti-Semitism in Western Europe during the winter of 1960, and of memories of the Holocaust.

Moreover, the newly independent African states were concerned about racial discrimination on their own continent and in North America. Today, racial and ethnic conflagrations [Page 7] have exploded once again in the heart of Europe and of Africa, underscoring the need for international response.

The Convention, which was signed by the United States in 1966, provides a definition, a legal definition, of racial discrimination. Some thirty years after the signing, the laws of the United States largely comply with the Convention.

Ratification by the United States is still essential to demonstrate to the world this country’s commitment to the elimination of racial discrimination and to the resolution of racial and ethnic conflicts both here and abroad.

Only two years ago we watched in horror the violence and fires in Los Angeles. America’s peace, prosperity, and even her standing in the international community largely depend on healing the wounds of racism and building a society in which all people, irrespective of color, ethnicity, national origin, or religion live as members of one family.

Long-term solutions to ethnic and racial conflicts require a comprehensive vision of a global society, supported by international law, which should not be viewed as a constraint on the nation-state or a threat to its sovereignty, but as a foundation for the next phase of the world’s political development.

The United States, faithful to its well-established tradition of concern for world peace and human rights, must continue to play a leading role in defining and building the international legal order.

Active participation by the United States is another important step in building structures and mechanisms that are necessary for the emergence of a truly new, just, and peaceful world order.

Bahá’ís anticipate the establishment of a world commonwealth in which all nations, races, creeds, and classes are closely and permanently united, and in which the autonomy of its state members and the personal freedom and initiative of the individuals that compose them are definitely and completely safeguarded. America must continue to play a leading part in this historic endeavor.

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Ghettos of the Mind

BY WILMA M. ELLIS

Copyright © 1994 by the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States. This essay contains the text of the baccalaureate address delivered at Stanford University on June 11, 1994. It is reprinted with minor editorial changes.

GRADUATION WEEK at a university is a time of joy. Commencement is approaching —a beginning: the beginning of adulthood, of independence, of responsibility for the society into which you are about to graduate. On such a day on this beautiful campus one wants to celebrate the happy future that, one hopes, is in store for every one of you. But the serenity of the Quad, the peace of this church, cannot make us forget the turmoil of the world outside.

Some weeks ago Reuter’s News Service ran a story about 5,500 people who were interviewed during the week of March 5 to March 11 in Britain, Germany, Japan, and the United States. Most of them felt that the world had become more dangerous since the end of the Cold War and that war, crime, and ethnic strife were the greatest threat to world peace. The British and the Germans saw international war as the primary threat. The Japanese were even more afraid of ethnic strife, while Americans pointed to crime as the greatest danger to peace. Commenting on the survey, the British newspaper The Guardian wrote, “The only bright spot is that the majority in each country have faith in the United Nations, for its achievements in the past and its role in the future.”

That, indeed, is heartening to read. Yet violence is out of control. It takes many forms, appearing at times as a righteous struggle for some lofty ideal that is always betrayed by the bloody means used for its realization. When massacre is adopted as a solution to old grievances, it runs wild, choking rivers and lakes with butchered men, women, and children. Yearly, violence kills more Americans than died in any one year of the war in Vietnam. It invades the sanctuary of family and socializes our children to brutality and the belief that force is the ultimate solution to all human problems.

[Page 10] The world has just commemorated the fiftieth anniversary of D-Day, the beginning of the end of Nazi domination of Europe. Yet Hitler’s ideology has not perished with him. Racism, ethnic exclusiveness, and Social Darwinism have spread their ugly bloom throughout the world.

Trying to call attention to the plight of the bedrock institution of society— the family—the United Nations has designated 1994 the Year of the Family. In this connection a seminar of internationally recognized experts sponsored jointly by UNICEF, UNIFEM, and the Bahá’í Office for the Advancement of Women was recently held in New York. The task of the seminar was to search for ways of fostering violence-free families, without which there can be no violence-free society.

Here in America the easy way out is to blame television for teaching our children and youth violence and brutality. Television, of course, deserves much blame for glorifying mayhem, but the media are in the business of making money. Here we must ask ourselves, why does violence sell? Are we addicted to savagery? Are we by nature violent beings?

Violence plagued American families long before the advent of television. Old American legal codes even included specifications for the size of sticks, cords, and paddles with which men could punish their wives and children. Indeed, the cultural mores of family violence are preserved and protected by perpetrators and victims alike. In fact, victims have traditionally incorporated suffering in their notion of their cultural identity to make such suffering more bearable. To complain, to reveal the suffering to strangers, to seek help and protection from domestic violence is to invite retaliation and even greater mistreatment.

It is time to take a long hard look at such violence, whether subtle or overt. After all, it is in the domestic setting that the first impressions of violence are indelibly stamped on the consciousness of the next generation. All violence, whether in the streets or in school, but particularly at home, destroys the sense of security that is indispensable for the development of a well-adjusted and loving adult.

The Causes of Violence

LET US LOOK at some of the causes of violence. Almost two thousand years ago, when Christ prayed “Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done on earth as it is in heaven,” He prayed for the day when the barriers that separate and divide the peoples of the world would be gone. The geographic barriers of old have been overcome. People at opposite ends of the earth communicate by pushing a few buttons. Cultures and languages unknown to one another until recently are becoming familiar. Yet great obstacles remain.

Among the greatest are prejudice and intolerance, which wreak havoc not only throughout the nations of the world but within the cities of our hearts as well, filling us with lethal infusions of illogic, superstition, and passion and isolating us in the ghettos of our minds.

[Page 11] In October 1912 a great spiritual leader, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, came from the Middle East and spoke on this campus. During His travels on three continents He had observed firsthand the great obstacle of prejudice and intolerance. Later He wrote:

Ye observe how the world is divided against itself, how many a land is red with blood. . . . flourishing countries have been reduced to rubble, cities have been levelled with the ground, and many a once prosperous village hath been turned into ruin. Fathers have lost their sons, and sons their fathers. Mothers have wept away their hearts over dead children. Children have been orphaned, women left to wander, vagrants without a home. From every aspect, humankind hath sunken low. Loud are the piercing cries of fatherless children; loud the mothers’ anguished voices, reaching to the skies.

And the breeding-ground of all these tragedies is prejudice: prejudice of race and nation, of religion, of political opinion; and the root cause of prejudice is blind imitation of the past—imitation in religion, in racial attitudes, in national bias, in politics. So long as this aping of the past persisteth, just so long will the foundations of the social order be blown to the four winds, just so long will humanity be continually exposed to direst peril.

Let us now move to 1964 when the then Secretary of Labor Willard Wirtz, referring to the unskilled, the uneducated, or under-educated black Americans, insensitively and unkindly used the term “human scrap heap” in his dismissal of citizens who were black and poor. The women and men to whom Wirtz referred belong to the past, yet the generations of poor minority Americans born since 1964 are no nearer to participation in the productive life and benefits of America than were their parents and grandparents. Misery remains hereditary in America.

A team of independent economists sponsored by the United Nations Development Program has produced a Human Development Report that includes an index measuring life expectancy, educational levels, and the basic purchasing power of the various countries of the world. The first paragraph of the Report for 1993 reads:

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the African-American population of the United States participates so little in the benefits of U.S. society and economy that it would rank 30 places behind the white population of the United States on the global human development index if it were measured as a separate country. The U.S. Hispanic population would rank 34 places behind the first place white population.

This means that the Hispanic population of the United States falls behind Trinidad and Tobago, the Bahamas, South Korea, and Estonia. Taking the United States as a whole, the country ranks sixth, behind Japan, Canada, Norway, Sweden, and Switzerland.

Such are unpleasant data about which no one likes to think. To keep them away and get on with our daily life we build mental ghettos in which to hide threatening realities. Much time, energy, and money is spent to keep those caught in the web of despair—those who, as ‘Abdu’l-Bahá said, cry with “piercing cries” and “anguished voices”—away from us and from our cherished ghettos that we call “me,” “mine,” and “more.”

As we look toward the approaching millennium, we must listen to the voices of despair, for those voices tell us that we are running out of time. The horror of our situation lies in the fact that too many of us have, tacitly or explicitly, accepted the legitimacy and permanence of poverty, tyranny, discrimination, separatism, hate, force, and violence.

Will the peoples of the world continue to let force and violence eat at the vitals of our society? Will our children and youth, the citizenry of tomorrow, continue to be drawn into a culture of crime, ethnic violence, and terror? Where are the leaders who will call us to a higher standard of human behavior? Where are those who will teach us sacrifice in the path of unity and love? Where are the leaders who will walk among us with humility and dignity to remind us of humanity’s nobility and who will speak to us of solutions based on justice and love of all God’s children?

Are they paralyzed by the lack of will to release themselves from fear and the ghettos of self-interest? Have they ingested too much prejudice and intolerance to lead us to higher ground where we could be spiritually moved beyond the usual compromises with the expedient and to find new solutions that would bring unity to our diversity?

Such leaders are, indeed, rare today, but the times demand that they appear, and they will appear. Some of those leaders of tomorrow, I am convinced, are among you today.

Earlier I asked whether human beings are violent by nature. We certainly have enough evidence from history indicating that physical force too often controls our lives and that war, ethnic strife, and crime are the violent offspring [Page 13] of the same parents: vengeance and greed. Some of you may say, “Don’t be naive. The rewards go to the fastest, the fittest, and the strongest, whatever the cost.” I answer, “Look around you. Observe the problems bestowed upon us by the fittest, the strongest, the fastest, and the richest, who have brought us disaster after disaster. We cannot continue in their footsteps, for surely we would perish.”

Someone told me a long time ago that one has to be a tough-minded pragmatist to be a unifier among diverse peoples. I am here to bear witness that this is true. What no one told me was that unifiers have to swim upstream. But after decades of doing precisely that, I can tell you that swimming against the current makes you a mighty strong swimmer.

How do you begin the task of being a unifier and making the planet a safer place to live? Some of you will start at home, some in your community, and some in the government and the professions. Wherever the opportunity presents itself, grab it and start.

You should also know that working for lofty causes requires steady inspiration. One needs role models, or, in older language, heroes—men and women who, in spite of all obstacles, succeeded in life and left us legacies of their courage, commitment, and good works.

Let me tell you a true story about such a woman. Matilda was a slave woman from Virginia, whose husband, James, ran away from his master during the Civil War to join the Union Army. Five months after James ran away, Matilda got word that he had contracted the measles, lost his eyesight, and was in a military hospital in Missouri.

Matilda, a house slave, knew she had to get to her sick husband right away, although she was pregnant and had a toddler. She dressed in baggy men’s clothes to hide her pregnancy, put on a hat that hid most of her face, and took along a plug of tobacco to disguise her feminine identity. In the dark of night she took her young son, William, and set off on her long and dangerous journey.

She walked all the next day and night, often carrying little William to go faster. On the second day, in a deep valley, she dug out a hiding place near a fallen log. She fed William some herbs so he would fall into a deep sleep and crawled in beside him. Scarcely had she settled down to rest than she heard familiar voices. Two men sat down on the log she had rolled over her hiding place. Their feet almost touched her. One of the men, the son of her master, said to the other, “They thought so much of Tillie, they never gave her a whipping. They didn’t even let me bring the bloodhounds. She took care of me as a child, and she sure gave me many a licking. But if we catch her, this time she will get this . . . ,” and he snapped his whip. After a while one of the men said to the other, “Let’s go home. Guess she hasn’t got this far, seeing that she had that boy with her.” The men left.

Matilda resumed her walking on the road, praying to make contact with workers on the Underground Railroad. Along came two men in a wagon with [Page 14] a load of corn fodder. One asked, “Where are you going, sonny, with your baby brother? Tell us; we are your friends.” Matilda was under five feet tall, so the men had assumed she was a young boy. However, her prayers were answered. The two men accepted a plug of Matilda’s tobacco and took her to a cabin where they left her in the care of an old lady and her son. The next morning the woman’s son hitched a team of oxen to a wagon and took Matilda and her boy to the Union Army camp at Rolla, Missouri. Upon arrival, Matilda saw a man feeling his way along the road with a cane. “Is that you, James?” she cried. “Yes, Matilda,” he answered, recognizing her voice. “Can you see?” she asked. “Not much by sight, but by faith,” he responded.

Later James was discharged from the army and took Matilda, William, and their new daughter, Helen—who, years later, wrote down the story—to a farm near Alton, Illinois, where they started a new life. They worked, saved, bought their farm, raised nine children, and lived to a ripe old age. Matilda is gone, but her spirit lives in the city of my heart. She is my inspiration; she is my heroine; she is my great-grandmother.

From Matilda’s example I have learned to persevere, to struggle, and also to accept life with all its sorrows and joys, with all its baffling diversity, its pitfalls and its promise.

Today the world is undergoing an upheaval much greater than the American Civil War. The fabric of traditional society is unraveling fast. As you leave the halls of this great university to embark upon the next phase of your life, remember the great imperatives of our age. There is much work to be done, and we do not have much time. Not for you the ghettos of the mind, not for you the hatreds, the pettiness, the cowardice that divides. My generation may be too old to lead you, but if you inspire the Matilda in me, I will follow.

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From the Proper Angle

From the proper angle

you can see the charcoal shapes of the fish

just below the pond’s surface.

I’ve been standing here looking

into the sienna brown underwater, the sun

deposited like fallen amber.

A painted turtle

pokes his bullet-sized head from among

the lily pads, water ripples underneath.

The loosestrife has borrowed

the voices of bees and whirring dragonflies.

The wind responds in chorus.

God, but it is beautiful here,

mesmerizing in the larger stillness,

the small constant movements.

In non-rhythmical sequences,

a distinct plop of a fish catching an insect,

body weight against the water.

I have seen no one until now,

an older woman and two younger women

whisper past me in fading colors.

There is a flat space in me

like a long stretch of a wooden foot-bridge

that is unwalked.

—Marlaina B. Tanny

Copyright © 1994 by Marlaina B. Tanny

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Houses as Perfect as Is Possible

BY DUANE L. HERRMANN

Copyright © 1994 by Duane L. Herrmann.

FOR CENTURIES Hindus, Jews, Buddhists, Christians, and Muslims have been building temples, synagogues, churches, cathedrals, and mosques. Around the world these places of worship have given expression to the cultural heritage of various peoples as they have interwoven their cultures with the forms of their particular religions. The building styles have changed with the ages, giving rise to distinctly recognizable periods of religious architecture.

Bahá’ís, like members of other religions, have also undertaken to build places of worship. In the Kitáb-i-Aqdas (the Most Holy Book), Bahá’u’lláh, the Founder of the Bahá’í Faith, exhorts the “people of the world” to

Build . . . houses of worship throughout the lands in the name of Him Who is the Lord of all religions. Make them as perfect as is possible in the world of being, and adorn them with that which befitteth them, not with images and effigies. Then, with radiance and joy, celebrate therein the praise of your Lord, the Most Compassionate.

Since the dawn of the twentieth century Bahá’ís have been attempting to fulfill Bahá’u’lláh’s directive. In the past ninety-four years designs for at least ten Bahá’í Houses of Worship around the world have been selected, and eight of them built.

Although eight Houses of Worship is a small number, it is important to remember that the Bahá’í Faith was established in 1844; hence it is a relatively new world religion. As such, it has necessarily focused its resources on establishing its administrative organization throughout the world, giving priority to community building rather than to erecting places of worship. However, to spread the spiritual benefits of these important structures as widely as possible, they have been strategically placed around the globe, beginning with roughly one per continent, except Antarctica. Thus far, Bahá’ís have erected Houses of Worship in ‘Ishqábád (or Ashkhabad), Turkistan; Wilmette (near Chicago), Illinois; Mona Vale (near Sydney), Australia; Kampala, Uganda; Langenhain (near Frankfurt am Main), Germany; Panama City, Panama; Apia, Western Samoa; and Bahapur (near New Delhi), India. A design was drawn up for a House of Worship in Marv, Turkistan, and designs for others in Tehran, Iran, and on Mount Carmel at the Bahá’í World Center, in Haifa, Israel, have been selected. Bahá’ís intend eventually to build a House of Worship in every locality.

The eight Bahá’í Houses of Worship that have been built were raised over a period spanning most of the twentieth century. During this time, building on the experience of earlier generations of Bahá’ís, and understanding to a greater measure the spiritual potential of the Houses of Worship, succeeding generations have risen to carry forward the building of “houses. . . . as perfect as is possible in the world of being.”

[Page 18] Paralleling efforts to create Bahá’í Houses of Worship has been an increasing understanding of what can be achieved by doing so. The ten formally selected designs for Houses of Worship reflect this gradual evolution in understanding, affirming Bahá’u’lláh’s explanation of how all things progress and develop. Even His own revelation, He says, will become stronger and more evident over time, just as the sun progresses from dawn to morning and then reaches its zenith at noon.

In a letter written on his behalf, Shoghi Effendi, head of the Bahá’í Faith from 1921 until his death in 1957, alludes to the process of progressive unfoldment in the designs of Bahá’í Houses of Worship, saying that the “sacred buildings” erected by the Bahá’í community “include elements of the previous schools of architecture in an ensemble that seems to present something new.” This “ensemble” is a synthesis of old and new. As the Bahá’í community has designed more Houses of Worship, the synthesis of old forms with the new concepts of the Bahá’í revelation has resulted in ever more exquisite manifestations of the Bahá’í Faith’s central principle: the oneness of humanity. Evidence of such progress is most clearly evident in the newest Bahá’í House of Worship, which was completed in 1986 in Bahapur, near New Delhi, India.

The oneness of humanity is expressed in the architecture of Bahá’í Houses of Worship by incorporating indigenous cultural symbols and transforming them into universal symbols. This transformation significantly affects the development of a global consciousness. The House of Worship in India offers an example of how such indigenous cultural symbols can be transformed into universal symbols. Because it is built in the form of a lotus blossom, an important ancient religious symbol of the Indian subcontinent, this “Indian” symbol is now becoming a point of identification and common reference for all humankind. Hence through the design of the Bahá’í House of Worship humanity is being united. This process of transforming local symbols into universal ones can be traced through the twentieth century by examining the ten existing designs.

The Mashriqul-Adhkár

TO APPRECIATE the significance of the designs of the Bahá’í Houses of Worship it is helpful to understand the role of the Bahá’í House of Worship in the context of the community. Each Bahá’í House of Worship forms the center of a complex of institutions that are to serve the needs of society. This complex is collectively designated by Bahá’u’lláh as the Mashriqul-Adhkár, meaning “the Dawning-place of the praise of God.” The Mashriqul-Adhkár is the preeminent medium of the Bahá’í concept of worship of God as service to humanity. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Bahá’u’lláh’s son and appointed successor, explains that

The Mashriqul-Adhkár is one of the most vital institutions in the world, and it hath [Page 19] many subsidiary branches. Although it is a House of Worship, it is also connected with a hospital, a drug dispensary, a traveller’s hospice, a school for orphans, and a university for advanced studies. Every Mashriqul-Adhkár is connected with these five things.

The House of Worship is the heart and center of the Mashriqul-Adhkár complex. It is dedicated to the praise of God and is reserved for prayer and the reading of, and meditation on, the sacred scriptures of the world’s revealed religions. The Mashriqul-Adhkár is a conduit for the spiritual energy that is regenerating, uniting, and transforming human society into a reflection of the divine. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá says that “‘the founding of the Mashriqul-Adhkár will mark the inception of the Kingdom of God on earth.’” Bahá’ís are enjoined to build one eventually in every community.

Design Considerations

BECAUSE of the central importance of the House of Worship in the life of the community, its design is a matter of special significance. During ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s years as head of the Bahá’í Faith (1892-1921), He gave only two specifications regarding the form a Bahá’í House of Worship should take. He said that each House of Worship is to have nine sides and that it should have a circular shape. Shoghi Effendi later specified that each should also have a central dome.

The requirement of a dome is an example of an evolving design. In a letter dated 20 April 1955 regarding the House of Worship to be built in Germany, Shoghi Effendi’s secretary said, “The Guardian has also indicated that there is nothing in the teaching requiring one dome for the building, in fact, any dome. It is of course more beautiful, generally to have a dome, or even domes, but that is not a necessary requirement of the Temple.”

During the following months Shoghi Effendi came to a conclusion regarding this nebulous aspect of design. An undated letter written on his behalf that reached Germany in November 1955 explains that “The beloved Master has not given very many details concerning the House of Worship. He has written in tablets, however, that the building must be round, and be 9-sided. The Guardian feels that at this time all Bahá’í temples should have a dome.”

The Universal House of Justice, the supreme governing and legislative body of the Bahá’í Faith, later specified that local cultural elements are to be part of a House of Worship’s design.

Beyond the requirements of nine sides, a circular shape, and a dome, creativity and beauty are given free rein. In a letter written on his behalf, Shoghi Effendi says that the temple designs should reflect “the delicate architectural beauty which the spirit of the Faith should engender.” The role of beauty [Page 20] in the Bahá’í revelation is fundamental. Many titles used in the Bahá’í writings to refer to Bahá’u’lláh incorporate the concept of beauty. Some of the titles signify His relationship to God: “He Who is Thy Beauty,” “the Manifestation of Thy Beauty,” and “the Day-Star of Thy Beauty.” Others have to do with His relationship to humanity: “the Ancient Beauty,” “the Blessed Beauty,” and “the Veilless Beauty.” Such appellations suggest that beauty is a significant feature of the Bahá’í revelation.

Shoghi Effendi’s choice for the design of the International Bahá’í Archives building at the Bahá’í World Center, in Haifa, Israel, provides a direct example of the importance of beauty. The design is modeled after the Parthenon and other classical ancient Greek temples. By choosing this style of architecture, Shoghi Effendi set the style for all future buildings at the Bahá’í World Center. When asked why he had chosen the Greek style of architecture for the buildings of the world administrative center of the Bahá’í Faith, he replied that it was beautiful, it had withstood the test of time, and it had remained beautiful for more than two thousand years. Many times he emphatically said, “I will always sacrifice utility to beauty.”

The role of light in the design of Bahá’í Houses of Worship is also an important factor, for Abdu’l-Bahá encouraged the abundant use of light. Light makes beauty visible. Light banishes the darkness in which humanity has lived for too long. Light symbolizes knowledge, which dispels the darkness of ignorance. Hence every Bahá’í House of Worship is filled with natural light. In many of the designs the light floods in through huge spaces on the ground floor or above; all have abundant windows. The Wilmette design admits light through numerous tall, arched windows at the clerestory and gallery levels as well as through the skin of arabesque tracery atop the dome. The Panama City design admits light through large, open spaces that are exposed directly to the air. The Kampala design incorporates a mix of colored and clear glass. The Bahapur design uses indirect light that is reflected down into the auditorium from the upward reaching petals of the lotus.

A Gradual Evolution

THE FIRST Bahá’í House of Worship and early drawings for two others were designed for Bahá’í communities living under restraints imposed by an antagonistic population in predominantly Muslim areas. The minarets of these designs would be somewhat inconspicuous in the often hostile cultures in which they were to be built. Of the early Western buildings, Mona Vale and Kampala are conservative in style, partially due to the financial restrictions under which they were erected. The later, more contemporary buildings tend to reflect more obviously the emerging synthesis of local cultural symbols with the concept of the oneness of humanity. The most recent design—that of Bahapur—transforms a local symbol into a new universal one.

Since 1902—for over half of the one-hundred-and-fifty-year Bahá’í Era—the Bahá’í community has been designing and building Houses of Worship on virtually every continent. As these buildings have been raised, they have increasingly reflected the central [Page 21] principle of Bahá’u’lláh’s revelation: the oneness of humanity. This principle has come to be more clearly demonstrated with each new House of Worship as elements of local indigenous culture are combined with a new vision of unity and the resulting synthesis is presented to the world as a gift.

Examined chronologically, the designs of the Bahá’í Houses of Worship show an evolution in the degree to which the synthesis of local symbols and universal concepts is achieved. The following table lists the location of each House of Worship, the date it was designed, the date it was completed, and the architect’s name where known. The designs appear to fall into four categories: Islamic Restraint, Western Synthesis, Transitional, and Indigenous/Universal.

Table. Bahá’í Houses of Worship

Period	Location	Date of Design	Date of Completion	Architect
Islamic Restraint	‘Ishqábád (now Ashkhabad), Turkistan	1902	1921	Valkoff
	Marv, Turkistan	190?		unknown
	Tehran, Iran	1955		Charles Mason Remey
Western Synthesis	Wilmette, Illinois	1919	1953	Louis Bourgeois
	Mount Carmel, Haifa Israel	1952		Charles Mason Remey
	Mona Vale, Australia	1956	1961	Charles Mason Remey
	Kampala, Uganda	1956	1961	Charles Mason Remey
Transitional	Langenhain, Germany	1956	1964	Teuto Rocholl
	Panama City, Panama	1966	1972	Peter Tillotson
	Apia, Western Samoa	1978	1984	Ḥusayn Amánat
Indigenous/Universal	Bahapur, India	1977	1986	Fariburz Sahba

Although the categories may be somewhat arbitrary, they are useful for purposes of discussion. The designs for the earliest Houses of Worship were for ones located in areas where a large Bahá’í community existed within an antagonistic Muslim population. Hence the designs needed to blend with the surrounding architecture. These designs are labeled “Islamic Restraint.” In the Euro-American West, where greater freedom of expression has been possible, the designs for Houses of Worship have varied while sharing a common silhouette and proportional scheme. These designs can be called “Western Synthesis.” When Shoghi Effendi specified that each Bahá’í House of Worship must reflect the local culture surrounding it, the next three designs began to demonstrate a perceptual shift toward a futuristic style that incorporates local flavor. As a result, the silhouette changed. These designs show a transition and are, therefore, referred to as “Transitional.” [Page 22] With the most recent design (in Bahapur), the local element is inseparable from the building as a whole. It can be called “Indigenous/Universal.”

A Period of Islamic Restraint

THE designs for the Houses of Worship in ‘Ishqábád and Tehran clearly reflect the restraints of the primarily Muslim society within which they were intended to serve. Although both designs draw on the prevailing local culture, each represents an attempt to demonstrate a physical form of unity. Yet in several ways both imitate the past. The designs blend somewhat with the architecture of the dominant society. Both were either built or intended to be built in areas where Muslim hostility toward Bahá’ís ran high. This is most obvious in the prominent entrance portals, which are reminiscent of the grand entrances of Muslim sacred architecture. The ‘Ishqábád and Tehran Houses of Worship are the only designs that have a main entrance facade with twin minarets flanking it.

A design was created for a House of Worship that was to be built in Marv, Turkistan, where a large Bahá’í population was located at the turn of the century, but it was never built, and no rendering of it is available.

The ‘Ishqábád House of Worship. Construction of the first Bahá’í House of Worship began in 1902 in ‘Ishqábád, Turkistan, in an area that eventually became part of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. The design of the ‘Ishqábád House of Worship contains many elements of Iranian religious architecture, combining elements common to Iranian sacred tombs and mosques. The main entrance is centered in an arch flanked on both sides by lofty minarets. The entrance arch is similar to that in the main entrance of the central open courtyard of a Muslim mosque. The minarets that flank the entrance feature balconies and shelters for a muezzin, structures that have no practical use in a Bahá’í House of Worship, for there are no muezzin in the Bahá’í Faith.

The only outward features that distinguish the edifice as a Bahá’í structure are its nine sides, nine avenues, and nine ornamental plaques and exterior inscriptions. The nine plaques that encircle the pinnacle of the dome, each inscribed with the Greatest Name rendered in script, appear to be an afterthought, not a permanent part of the structure. Wires stream out from the pinnacle of the dome to hold the plaques in place. If they were to be removed, the overall design would not be changed significantly. The Arabic inscription above the entrance is from the Bahá’í sacred texts, but only a person who is familiar with Bahá’u’lláh’s writings would identify it as a passage from the Kitáb-i-Aqdas.

The design for the ‘Ishqábád House of Worship represents a beginning effort to create new physical forms symbolizing a new revelation from God. It combines and unites Bahá’í elements with elements of Iranian sacred architecture. The borrowing is so strong, however, that an uninformed observer simply glancing at the design for this edifice is not likely to identify it as a Bahá’í House of Worship. Thus the similarity to Iranian sacred architecture appears more to be an attempt to blend with the surrounding architecture than a new vision of unity.

Nevertheless, the ‘Ishqábád House of Worship is significant for a number of reasons. Shoghi Effendi indicates that its construction is among the major accomplishments of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s ministry. It was the first Bahá’í House of Worship ever to be built; the first [Page 23] to be confiscated by an inimical regime; and, sadly, the first to be destroyed. On October 5, 1948, an earthquake with a magnitude of 7 and an intensity of 9 on the MSK-64 international seismic scale damaged the building so severely that it had to be razed (much of the city was destroyed in twenty seconds). Perhaps most significant is its status as part of the most complete Mashriqul-Adhkár complex Bahá’ís have yet constructed, for it was surrounded by a number of the ancillary facilities that comprise the institution of the Mashriqul-Adhkár. These included a school, a travelers’ hospice, and a library. A hospital was also planned.

The Tehran House of Worship. The Tehran House of Worship was the fourth Bahá’í House of Worship to be designed, but it has not yet been erected because of local disturbances and because of the severe and continuing persecution of the Iranian Bahá’í community. The architect’s drawing, which does not include any comments or notes, provides all of the information that is presently available in English about the design. The erection of this House of Worship has been a deferred goal for the Bahá’ís since 1953. From time to time small measures have been undertaken to prepare for the building’s eventual construction, yet it remains unbuilt due to the unfavorable conditions.

The front entrance of the Tehran design is distinguished from the eight other sides of the building by its twin minarets and three sets of doors. Every other side of the building appears to have a columned bay. Nine minarets anchor each corner of the structure. All of the minarets rise only slightly above the exterior walls, with those flanking the entrance being larger and taller than the others —a common feature of mosques. The crown of the dome resembles that of the Shrine of the Báb in Haifa, Israel, even in such details as the pinnacles and railings. The dome of the Tehran House of Worship is unadorned but topped with a large lantern, which, along with the columned bays, is its most unique feature.

A Period of Western Synthesis

THE next four Houses of Worship to be designed—those of Wilmette, Illinois; Mount Carmel, Israel; Mona Vale, Australia; and Kampala, Uganda—are similar in form, for they each include an auditorium, a clerestory level, and a dome. These three components echo some of the main components of Christian cathedrals, such as the ground floor, the clerestory, and the spire or dome. All four Houses of Worship were designed by Western architects, and all give evidence of aspirations to universality. The designs for the Wilmette and Mount Carmel Houses of Worship appear to merge elements or symbols from various cultures into one form. This universalizing aim seems to take a different and perhaps more successful direction in later designs that facilitate the oneness of humanity in more concrete ways.

[Page 24]

“Houses as Perfect
as Is Possible”

—Baha’ullah

[Page 25]

Islamic Restraint

A. The Bahá’í House of Worship, ‘Ishqábád, Turkistan

Western Synthesis

B. The Bahá’í House of Worship, Wilmette, Illinois

C. Design for the Bahá’í House of Worship on Mount Carmel, Haifa, Israel

D. The Bahá’í House of Worship, Mona Vale, Australia

E. The Bahá’í House of Worship, Kampala, Uganda

Transitional

F. The Bahá’í House of Worship, Langenhain, Germany

G. The Bahá’í House of Worship, Apia, Western Samoa

H. The Bahá’í House of Worship, Panama City, Panama

Indigenous/Universal

I. The Bahá’í House of Worship, Bahapur, India

[Page 26] The Wilmette House of Worship. The designs for the Wilmette and Mount Carmel Houses of Worship reflect a universality that does not mirror a specific local culture but reaches back in time to blend details from around the world to create a new vision of the oneness of humankind. This is especially true of the Wilmette House of Worship. Louis Bourgeois, the architect, said of his model, “Into this new design, then, of the Temple is woven, in symbolic form, the great Bahá’í teaching of unity—the unity of all religions and of all mankind.” Among the exterior decorative elements he incorporated are the circle, a universal symbol of eternity and the divine; the Zoroastrian swastika; the Christian cross; the Muslim star and crescent; and the five-pointed and nine-pointed stars symbolizing the Bábí and Bahá’í Faiths.

When the design for the Wilmette House of Worship was created, American architecture had recently witnessed dramatic changes centered in Chicago with the work of Louis Sullivan, a pioneer in skyscraper construction. Though there is no evidence that Sullivan was involved in designing the Wilmette House of Worship, his influence can be seen in the flowing lines reflecting the simultaneous motion and permanence of nature. Recent technical advances in architecture and engineering had produced the first modern skyscrapers and buildings that could be more open to light than ever before. The Wilmette House of Worship is a direct heir to these new forms of architecture. The new use of steel as a supporting framework or structural skeleton eliminated the need for massive lower masonry walls to support the weight of tall buildings. Structurally, the Wilmette edifice resembles a skyscraper more than any traditional place of worship in that it has a steel skeleton covered by a thin skin of precast concrete panels. This supporting steel framework allows for its bell-like silhouette and height.

The strength of steel also allowed for an abundant use of glass in the Wilmette House of Worship, permitting the inclusion of more window space than would otherwise have been possible. The many large windows and the use of electric lights bring full illumination into the building day and night. This is the “century of light,” ‘Abdu’l-Bahá said. American innovation and technology brought the use of light to fulfillment in the Wilmette House of Worship.

The 1890s inaugurated not only a new era in American architecture but a new era in world architecture as well. It was a time when many felt that the form of a building should follow its function. In its liberation from the past, architecture began to incorporate an eclectic mix of expressions to achieve unusual configurations and appearances. Before this time, Sullivan considered architectural art to have been incompletely developed because it had not harmoniously united emotion with intellect. He concluded that “only the spiritual results of architecture are really important.”

Thus it was intellectually easy and logical to incorporate various divergent religious symbols into the design of the Wilmette House of Worship for a new religion whose central principle is the oneness of humanity. The resulting synthesis, uniting various symbols in a nine-sided circular form, produced an overall effect that was unique in human history: a bell-like structure with the appearance of lace. The design represents a universal [Page 27] cultural appreciation, as it takes elements rooted in the world’s past and unifies them in a harmonious vision of the future.

The Mount Carmel House of Worship. The design for the House of Worship planned for Mount Carmel reflects a number of details that can be seen in the Shrine of the Báb. The similarity is most apparent in the arched windows and in the domes of the minarets. The arches and minarets show Eastern influence, while the dome resembles that of Saint Peter's Cathedral in Rome. The architect, Charles Mason Remey, gave credit to Shoghi Effendi for the design, explaining, “I must say that the architecture, the architectural motifs, are really his rather than mine.” The resemblance between the design for the Mount Carmel House of Worship and the Shrine of the Báb was intentional.

The Mona Vale and Kampala Houses of Worship. The Houses of Worship built in Mona Vale, Australia, and Kampala, Uganda, are the most conservative and Western in design. A letter written on behalf of Shoghi Effendi in 1956 to a National Spiritual Assembly explains that Shoghi Effendi felt “that as this is the Mother Temple of Europe, and an institution which will be supported by contributions from Bahá’ís all over the world, it has a very great importance; and must under all circumstances be dignified, and not represent an extremist point of view in architecture. No one knows how the styles of the present day may be judged two or three generations from now; but the Bahá’ís cannot afford to build a second Temple if the one that they build at the present time should seem too extreme and unsuitable at a future date.”

In many ways the designs for the Mona Vale and Kampala Houses of Worship could be considered twins. They were built at about the same time for the same reason: as recompense to the Iranian Bahá’ís who were suffering continued persecution in the 1950s. Both buildings were designed by Charles Mason Remey, with the same considerations of design, style, size, and cost. Rúḥíyyih Khánum, the wife of Shoghi Effendi and an eminent Bahá’í in her own right, recounts that Shoghi Effendi “extracted from the architect he had at hand the designs he felt were suitable for the Sydney and Kampala Houses of Worship. These were dignified, pleasing in proportion, conservative in style and relatively modest in cost.” Both Houses of Worship were erected under severe financial restraints.

Some decorations were omitted from the Mona Vale edifice to reduce the cost, which explains why the gallery windows appear surprisingly plain and not like the model, in contrast to the latter’s tall clerestory windows and the entrances. The ribs flowing down from the top of the dome and the pinnacles relieve the angular features.

The simple, straightforward lines of the Kampala House of Worship reflect, in a way, the purity of the hearts of the African believers. [Page 28] The structure’s lines and colors blend and merge with the African spirit and countryside. Rúḥíyyih Khánum, in a speech given at the dedication of the Kampala temple, said, “The simplicity, dignity and beauty of the design, the soft green of dome and roofs, the sand tones of the outer walls, the coarse texture of its finish—all blend in perfect accord with the ironstone soil, the dry savanna grasses and the tropical green of bush and tree.” Beyond its simplicity and its multiple wide, embracing, and protective eaves, the Kampala design does not look African and would not be out of place in any Western city.

A Period of Transition

OF THE designs discussed so far, the three Houses of Worship that were most often seen throughout the 1960s—those in Wilmette, Mona Vale, and Kampala—became somewhat of a “standard” for Bahá’ís at the time. The Wilmette, Mona Vale, and Kampala designs were comfortable, and, with similar silhouettes, may have seemed to establish a pattern for future Houses of Worship. When the design for the next House of Worship was unveiled, many Bahá’ís were unsure of how to react to it. It certainly did not look like the others; but it was going to be theirs. Some continued to feel this ambivalence for the next decade.

The Langenhain House of Worship. A dramatic break with the past occurred with the selection of the design for the House of Worship near Frankfurt am Main, Germany. The architect, Teuto Rocholl, ignored the “standard” silhouettes of the previous Bahá’í temples and set the dome directly on top of the auditorium, eliminating the clerestory level found in other designs. Here was a new shape for a Bahá’í House of Worship.

The German House of Worship is the last design to be approved by Shoghi Effendi, a point that raises a few questions. Is it significant that this design is also the first done in a very contemporary style? If Shoghi Effendi, as head of the Bahá’í Faith, had not chosen a contemporary design, might the Houses of Worship designed after his passing have followed more conservative lines? The design Shoghi Effendi originally selected for Germany was much more conservative. Did his selection of a more modern design make it easier for the Bahá’í community to accept the very different designs that followed it?

The design for the Langenhain House of Worship was the first of the contemporary, nontraditional styles that began to show evidence of the emerging synthesis of local culture and universal faith. Shoghi Effendi clearly emphasized the need for compatibility with local culture in his communications with the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of Germany and Austria, when, through a letter written on his behalf, he said that the architect should be instructed to “create something that will be desirable and appropriate for your area.”

Why was the design for the German House of Worship so different from all the preceding ones? In her biography of Shoghi Effendi, Rúḥíyyih Khánum tells how the selection of the design was made:

he himself [Shoghi Effendi] had chosen a design and sent it to the National Assembly of the Bahá’ís of Germany and Austria, but there was already so much strong church-aroused opposition to the erection of a Bahá’í House of Worship that the National Assembly had informed him they [Page 29] felt the conservative nature of the design he had chosen would, in a land favouring at the moment extremely modern-style buildings, complicate its erection, as a building permit might be refused on this pretext. Shoghi Effendi therefore permitted them to hold a competition and of the designs sent him he favoured the one which was later built.

The Langenhain House of Worship is a strikingly modern building made of concrete and glass, a reflection of a contemporary society. The designs for the Houses of Worship later built in Panama and Samoa continue this modern style and silhouette, though each exhibits more progressively than the last the emerging synthesis in which elements of native culture are blended with a new vision of the future and the oneness of humanity.

The Panama City House of Worship. When the design for the House of Worship in Panama City, Panama, was selected, the Universal House of Justice stipulated that the design of a House of Worship must reflect the indigenous culture of the area in which it was to be built. The House of Justice informed the Bahá’ís of the world that it had asked the architect “to submit a final design, based on his original conception but embodying pre-Columbian motifs and making use of local materials.” Thus the incorporation of cultural elements became a central concern. The wing-walls of the Panama House of Worship are covered with patterned brickwork inspired by Mesoamerican designs, and their points are stepped like the pyramids of the ancient local cultures.

The Apia House of Worship. The design of the House of Worship in Apia, Western Samoa, features its Polynesian heritage. The overall configuration of the edifice resembles a “fale,” the style of grass-roofed house built by the indigenous people of Samoa. Large spaces on the exterior, above the entrances and between the side walls, are to be filled in the future with panels of Polynesian-style artwork. The artwork is not yet in place, as it is being hand-carved in the traditional way, a process that will take years.

The Houses of Worship in Panama and Samoa are most significant for their expression of the cultural heritage of their native peoples. The native cultural elements are not merely reflected, but are thoroughly integrated into the designs. The Panama design is definitely Mesoamerican, while the Samoan design is decidedly Polynesian. This kind of cultural identity is not as apparent in the Mona Vale, Kampala, or Langenhain designs. This synthesis is the essence of the Bahá’í principle of unity in diversity, according to which all peoples will be united while preserving the integrity and diversity of each. Bahá’ís have brought forth a visible expression of this spiritual reality in the designs for the Houses of Worship in Panama and Samoa. Both are obviously modern, for while they are firmly rooted in the local culture, they are not ghosts of the past. They are an intimation of what is to come.

A Blossoming Synthesis

THE MOST recently constructed Bahá’í House of Worship is that of Bahapur (the ancient name of the site), near New Delhi, India. Its design offers concrete evidence of the blossoming synthesis of cultural and religious symbols through the power of Bahá’u’lláh’s revelation. The transformation appears complete. The indigenous symbol—the lotus— is not just a decoration or a component of the overall design. It is the House of Worship. Who else has ever made a building in the form of a flower? What is more deeply rooted in the heritage of India than the lotus blossom?

[Page 30] The lotus blossom is richly symbolic in Indian religious tradition. Because the flower rises out of mud and slime toward fresh air, it symbolizes mediation—a bridge from the earthly world to the heavenly one. Hindus see the lotus, in its growth and unfolding, as the vehicle for the generation of Brahma, the agent of creation; it epitomizes the coming forth of creation from the mind of Vishnu. In both the Hindu and Buddhist religions the lotus is thought to envelop the center of one’s being; it is considered the home of the soul. In the Indo-Tibetan mandalas, the opening lotus indicates the evidence of divine powers. The qualities most closely linked with the lotus are prosperity and good fortune, which are conceptually linked to creation and the bounties of the created world. The lotus is also associated with birth, beauty, and sensuality and is considered sacred in China and ancient Egypt.

Rúḥíyyih Khánum, in a speech given before the laying of the cornerstone of the New Delhi House of Worship, explained the significance of the lotus as a symbol:

the lotus, par excellence, is the symbol of the Manifestation of God. The lotus is probably the most perfect flower in the world. It is symmetrical, it is exquisitely beautiful. And how does it grow? It grows in a swamp. It comes out of mud and raises its head from the slime absolutely clean and perfect.

Now this is what the Manifestation of God is in the world. He comes out of the slime of this planet. He comes from the worst place on the planet. He appears among the worst people on the planet, so that no one can say that we made Him. They say that only God can bring forth such a Being from such an environment.

In this flower of India—the “Lotus of Bahapur,” as it has come to be known—an important element of the ancient religious heritage of the peoples of India is completely merged with the fundamental Bahá’í principle of the oneness of humanity. The lotus cannot be removed from the design of the building without eliminating the entire structure. The ancient symbol has become a modern expression that speaks to the entire world; an indigenous symbol has become a universal one. For many people around the world the ancient lotus of India is now inseparably associated with a new universal faith. At the same time, the Bahapur House of Worship is inextricably associated with the peoples of India. When the indigenous becomes indistinguishable from the universal, the oneness of humanity has begun. The day of unity is here.

Conclusion

THE REVELATION of Bahá’u’lláh transforms human society at all levels and in all forms. The change first becomes evident in the lives of individuals, then in their communities, and finally in the structures those communities erect. Eventually such changes will be felt in greater and greater measure in society as a whole.

In less than one hundred years the architectural styles of Bahá’í Houses of Worship have progressed from an imitation of the past, to a blending of various indigenous cultural elements, to a style that completely transforms an indigenous symbol into a universal one. The uniting of humankind in concrete symbols as well as in the hearts of more and more people is now fully under way.

As the Bahá’í community begins to reflect a new spiritual and cultural synthesis, so will the institution of the Mashriqu’l-Adhkár and its central edifice, the Bahá’í House of Worship. As time goes on, and the Bahá’í [Page 31] community increases in strength and responsibility, further physical evidence of beauty and unity will increasingly transform the human environment. The designs for Bahá’í Houses of Worship can lead the way.

The spiritual transformation of the peoples of the world will change a divisive and hostile planet into one in which unity in diversity is the prevailing norm. Individual cultures will be neither lost nor buried under some global cultural, spiritual, economic, or political tyranny but will be reinvigorated and will rise to new heights of harmony and beauty. The heritage of native peoples will not be despised, ignored, or destroyed, as has happened all too often in history, but will be elevated and transformed into a permanent, integral part of the future. Houses “as perfect as is possible in the world of being” will be raised in all corners of the globe.

Clay

Broken off earth,

still suckling wet,

work mold warm

an aroma

burnt rose and old iron.

An unbendable form

dries worthless, brittle,

only fire unweathers

cochineal mud.

Vestiges of structure

from mother granite,

minute crystals meld

incandescent.

More human than bone,

patient, obedient clay,

aware of impermanence

bestowing use.

—Barbara Murray Turner

Copyright © 1994 by Barbara Murray Turner

[Page 32]

[Page 33]

The Middle East and World Peace

BY NADER SAIEDI

Copyright © 1994 by the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States. This article is a modified version of a talk given by the author in the second Breakfast Club sponsored by the Bahá’ís of Louisville, Kentucky, on March 22, 1991. The author wishes to thank the club’s sponsors for their efforts, Professor Manoochehr Manshadi for his guidance and encouragement, and World Order’s editors for their suggestions and editing.

DURING the last two decades the Middle East has been the center of an unusual number of social, political, and military upheavals. At the same time, the Middle East has played an extremely sensitive and strategic role in the economic and political life of the world. These two patterns of events culminated in 1991 in a massive military confrontation in the Persian Gulf. An examination of the historical contributions, ancient and recent, of the Middle East to world civilization; a brief analysis of the nature and causes of contemporary sociopolitical problems in the Middle East; and a discussion of some spiritual, globally oriented solutions to the problems help give perspective and insight to the upheavals.

The Middle East in World History

A BRIEF examination of the history of the Middle East reveals the centrality of the region in the unfolding of world civilization. Three basic factors have affected the impact of Middle Eastern culture on the rest of the world.

First, the ancient forms of large states and vast empires, characterized by centralized bureaucracies and codified systems of law, originated in the Middle East. The recurring presence of powerful, centralized states in Middle Eastern history has led many scholars to seek explanations for such sociopolitical structures. Following a long line of theorists (including Niccolò Machiavelli, Jean Bodin, Frances Bacon, Baron de la Brède et de Montesquieu, and Marquis de Condorcet), Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel referred to “oriental despotism,” and Karl Marx—referring to a social and economic structure that is undifferentiated, subjugated to a despotic central state, and stagnant—wrote about an “Asiatic mode of production.” Common to all such theories seeking to explain the sociopolitical structure of the region is concern about the absolutist form of state that predominates. The modern form of state that prevails today in the Middle East characteristically features a militaristic, bureaucratic government with a large army, interventionist policies, and centralized power.

The second factor affecting the Middle East’s cultural impact on the world is the universalistic monotheistic orientation of thought to which the region has given birth. Although the old institutions of large and powerful states have usually been associated with frequent wars, destruction, and policies favoring particular interests, the same imperial institutions have also given rise to world-historical and universalistic cultural orientations of thought. The latter tendency is particularly reflected in the advent of a number of universal religions that advocate a worldwide [Page 34] monotheistic creed. This universal monotheism, appearing in such diverse forms as Zoroastrianism, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam has been the Middle East’s most significant contribution to world civilization. The movement away from a magical orientation toward belief in a transcendental God has been a unifying, universalistic force in history. Many scholars have traced the origin of Western civilization to a combination of theological, cultural, and social ideas that are ultimately based on belief in a single, transcendental God. Hegel, for example, saw the concepts of democracy, equality, and the sacredness of individual rights as logical extensions of the Christian belief that all human beings are created by one and the same God.

The third factor affecting the Middle East’s influence on world civilization is its geographical location. Situated at the crossroads of Africa, Asia, and Europe, the Middle East has functioned as a bridge between continents. Egypt, Palestine, and neighboring Greece have produced various cultural institutions with transnational historical significance. Hence it is no surprise that both the Judeo-Christian and classical Greek cultures are defined and appropriated as the historical heritage of both East and West.

Another more recent and less direct form of Middle Eastern influence on world civilization has been the transmission of Greek and Roman classical science and philosophy from the Muslim Middle East to the Christian West. Through Islamic scholarship much of Greek learning was kept alive and communicated to the West after centuries of inaccessibility during Medieval times. Both the Muslim centers of learning in Spain and the Crusades played a significant role in this process. Hence the European Renaissance was partly influenced by the cultural vitality of the Middle East. The Renaissance, in turn, paved the way for the Enlightenment, industrialization, and capitalism, all of which shaped the modern world in their own image.

Present Problems

DESPITE the Middle East’s glorious historical achievements, the situation at the present time is gloomy. The region is politically and socially undemocratic. The heritage of “oriental despotism” has continued to be the dominant political reality of the area. During the 1960s it was assumed that at least Lebanon and Turkey would be exceptions to this reality. However, the fragile balance of Lebanese confessional democracy has been replaced since 1975 with a decades-long civil war, and the democratic structure of Turkey —probably the closest approximation to democracy in the area—has been frequently afflicted with upheavals and the imposition of undemocratic episodes.

Today, Middle Eastern countries are characterized by their extreme militarism, their centralization of power, and the high degree of control they exercise over their citizens. One of the reasons for this post-World War II development is the discovery and exporting of oil in the region. The oil exports have left states in charge of vast amounts of revenue, leading to the evolution of a particular form of society that is more or less unique to the Middle East.

The basic characteristics of the Middle East’s unusual sociopolitical structure are contained in the concept of the “rentier state.” A rentier state is one that is financed primarily by renting out its resources, rather than by the productive activities of society. The amount of revenue a rentier state acquires is, therefore, not related to the productive activities of its citizens. Vast revenues are [Page 35] controlled by tribal or bureaucratic states. Consequently, instead of the state’s being dependent on society and economic institutions, society becomes dependent on the state and its allocative functions. Revenue and income are allocated by the state to the various segments of society, relegating economic institutions to allocative rather than productive functions. This phenomenon usually leads to the creation of a developed form of welfare state.

The consequences of a rentier state are extremely significant. Because it does not depend on tax revenues for its finances, it can exercise an unusual degree of state autonomy. It can finance repressive programs regardless of its economy’s performance and regardless of social support. Because the strength of public demand for political participation is partly related to the payment of taxes for financing the political sphere, public demand for participation is likely to slacken. Such conditions create relatively weak prospects for democracy in the rentier state.

Another major consequence of a rentier state is the development of a particular economic ethics and cultural orientation that is generally incompatible with economic development, creative entrepreneurship, industrialization, hard work, and cultural innovation. The predominance of allocative structures as the means of gaining access to financial resources severs the organic link between productive individual work and financial reward. People learn that they can acquire large amounts of money by gaining access to bureaucratic state positions rather than by developing industrial skills and engaging in productive activities. Consequently, they become averse to manual and productive labor and prefer bureaucratic and administrative positions. This aversion is continually reinforced by the allocative function of the state. Controlling most of the economic and social dimensions of society, the state becomes the major employer in the economy and expands bureaucratic positions in response to political imperatives. The resulting inefficiency creates an occupational structure that is overcrowded, corrupt, underproductive, and stagnant. Social innovation and economic creativity become anomalies in such a situation.

Another problem in the Middle East is its basic lack of political legitimacy. The normal and formal unit of political solidarity in Western society is the institution of the nation-state. However, in most non-Western societies and particularly in the Middle East, the nation-state is an ambiguous, problematic political unit.

Political discourse in the Middle East is torn among three political ideologies: the secular nation-state, Pan-Arabism, and Pan-Islamism. All three compete for the loyalty of the citizens. Both Pan-Arabism and Pan-Islamism reject the legitimacy of the Western model of the secular nation-state. Pan-Arabism argues that a real nation is not defined by territories but by a common language and culture. It defines all Arabs as members of one nation, which at present is artificially divided by political boundaries that are not grounded in the Arab people's heritage or history. Pan-Islamists contend that the proper unit of political solidarity is neither territorial nor linguistic. They argue that a real nation is defined by its religious convictions and that all Muslims should constitute one political nation and should return to the original Islamic concept of Umma or community. Obviously, the three contending ideologies oppose one another. Most Iranians and Turks, for example, are not Arabs and do not speak Arabic. However, both constitute Muslim societies.

[Page 36] Another serious problem that adds to the troublesome nature of political legitimacy in the Middle East is the increasing significance of confessional, sectarian, and nationalistic politics in the Middle East. This confessional, nationalistic orientation is qualitatively different from the established pattern of nation-states in the region. Until the 1960s the idea of citizenship in a nation-state was a generally accepted model in non-Western societies. It was assumed that citizenship in a nation-state would enable one to benefit from a variety of resources and to improve one’s life. However, when expectations of social, economic, and political justice were not realized, people began to seek alternatives through which to pursue their dreams. Discarding the model of nation-state citizenship, individuals began to define and organize themselves in terms of common religious, ethnic, or linguistic factors and to mobilize themselves as self-conscious collective units. According to the logic of such confessional nationalisms, ethnic or religious groups differentiate themselves from other confessional groups and claim special political privileges and rights on the basis of their particularistic group membership. For example, the contradictions between Kurds and non-Kurds, Shiite and Sunni Muslims, and Muslims and Christians are at the center of numerous confessional and nationalistic conflicts in the Middle East today.

Sectarian and confessional politics become particularly significant within a rentier state. The undifferentiated character of state and civil society under a bureaucratic rentier state makes the political process the most effective means of acquiring access to economic resources. Confessional claims on state and political rights become channels of economic monopolization and occupational exclusion in society. The combination of such factors creates an unstable political and social structure.

The problems of the rentier state and its lack of political legitimacy exacerbate another structural feature that is found in modern Middle Eastern countries—their extreme militarization. Examining the percentage of gross domestic product (GDP) that is spent on the military in the Middle East reveals it to be the most per-capita militarized part of the world. In the late 1970s eight of the fourteen countries in the world that spent more than 10 percent of their gross national product (GNP) on military expenditures were in the Middle East. From 1973 to 1984, the annual GDP percentages that eight Middle Eastern nations spent on military expenditures were 51, 19, 18, 18, 17, 15, 11, and 11. The equivalent figure for the mightiest economic success story of the last three decades— Japan—is only 1 percent. It is noteworthy that the United States, the most powerful military force in the world, is currently spending less than 5 percent of its GNP on its military. The Soviet Union’s military spending during the 1970s and 1980s is estimated to have been at least 20 percent and probably between 40 and 50 percent (because of concealed expenditures). There is no doubt that such high military expenditures were one of the major causes of the economic and political collapse of the Soviet Union.

Among developing regions around the world, the Middle East consistently shows the highest rate of GNP military expenditure, an average of 13 percent. The Middle East is followed by East Asia (7 percent), South Asia (4 percent), Sub-Saharan Africa [Page 37] (2.5 percent), and Latin America and the Caribbean (1.5 percent). The Middle East’s unusually high rate of military spending and its militarism are a product of internal and external structural forces operating on the area. The internal structural features of the rentier state support a high degree of militarism in the region. Externally, this propensity for military development has been strengthened by the region’s strategic location between the world superpowers during the Cold War. The result has been major growth of the Middle East’s military complex.

The over-militarization of the Middle East has produced many significant consequences, most notably the readiness and tendency of the powers of the region to engage in military confrontation as a normal means of conflict resolution. The history of the Middle East in the last three decades is replete with military conflicts. It is generally true that, if a country develops an economic system most readily stimulated by war, the occurrence of military adventures is structurally inevitable. Regardless of political leaders’ intentions, such an economy encourages military conflict.

Another consequence of excessive military spending in the Middle East is its slow rate of economic and social development. All over the world the resources of our fragile planet are being wasted on destructive military pursuits, while the development of human capital, agriculture, and the real enhancement of people’s lives are being seriously neglected. What is particularly unusual about the Middle East is that its extraordinary rate of institutional waste is coupled with a lack of significant economic development. Excessive economic inequality is not only a reality among people within various Middle Eastern nations; it is also a striking reality between oil-exporting and non-oil-exporting societies.

The economic underdevelopment of the Middle East is associated with many concomitant social problems, notably a high rate of illiteracy and an overwhelming rate of population growth. Only Sub-Saharan Africa exceeds the Middle East in the growth rate of its population. While in Sub-Saharan Africa the population doubles every twenty-two years, and in Northwestern Europe every three hundred years, the population doubles in the Middle East every twenty-four years. With such an excessive rate of population growth, no feasible increase in economic productivity translates into a real pattern of economic development. The population remains predominantly young and unproductive, generating high pressures for expenditures on education, health, and consumption, rather than reinvestment.

One of the paradoxes of the Middle East is the discrepancy between its average GNP and its rate of population growth. In comparison with other countries with similar per-capita incomes, the nation-states of the Middle East lag behind in slowing their birth rates. One of the reasons for the discrepancy is the dominance of strongly patriarchal institutions and culture. The status of women in the Middle East is very backward. The literacy rate among women in the region is one of the worst in the world. Sexist patriarchal practices are frequently justified through the use of religious symbolism. The exclusion of women from active public life and their low social status leads to unusually high birth rates and thence to economic underdevelopment.

The Middle East’s combination of economic and social underdevelopment and its history of domination by Western powers and economies has created a strong tendency toward an intolerant, dogmatic cultural [Page 38] outlook. One expression of such an outlook is the rise of the politics of Islamic fundamentalism. Equating modernity with imperialism and colonial domination, fundamentalist ideologies attribute the region’s economic and social problems to the adoption of modern culture and call for a return to old Islamic traditions and heritage. Fundamentalist politics, consequently, defends a confessional political practice in which one’s rights are judged according to one’s religious, political, and cultural orientations. Fundamentalism may appropriate modern technology and techniques of sociopolitical control and domination. However, the confessional politics of religious or ethnic fundamentalism radically opposes the essence of modernity, which espouses the sacredness of individual rights, universalistic norms and systems of jurisprudence, and formal equality of citizens regardless of religion, ethnic background, or gender.

Unfortunately, the adoption of fundamentalist politics in the Middle East has led to further economic and social problems. Economic development requires, among other things, legal rationalization. It is imperative that the distribution of functions and rewards in society not be dependent on religious affiliation, gender, or ethnic background. If such criteria are allowed to become the basis on which social functions and rewards are given, labor and capital mobility will be restricted, and occupational and professional allocations will be arbitrary, inefficient, and irrational. While rationalized laws are predictable, formally consistent, universalistic, explicit, and flexible, the conditions described above are radically opposed to the norms of legal rationalization and lead to the creation of laws that are particularistic, unpredictable, arbitrary, and based on emotion rather than fact. Such a feudal institutional structure prevents industrialization and the development of entrepreneurial skill and creativity, investment, efficiency, and social innovation. Such economic and social problems in turn create hostile attitudes toward modern culture and further encourage confessional, dogmatic politics.

It should be mentioned that Islamic fundamentalism is a real response to a real problem. In contrast to the secularist ideology that attributes the socioeconomic underdevelopment of the Middle East to Islam and Islamic beliefs, Islamic fundamentalism recognizes the vitality and necessity of a spiritual and religious orientation in the life of society. The problem with Islamic fundamentalism, however, is its neglect of the creative spirit of Islam and its ahistorical insistence on legalistic symbols and on particular forms of expression derived from the Islam of the past. Islamic fundamentalism ignores the present reality and its structural requirements as well as the progress of culture and civilization. Islamic ideas once created a civilization that was probably the most advanced of its time. The creative spirit of Islam was able to produce such a great culture because that spirit took a form that was in accordance with the requirements of its age. Unfortunately, contemporary Islamic fundamentalism eschews the spirit of the time and the requirements of the present technocultural reality, trying instead to apply the old era-dependent expressions of Islam to modern society. It is hostile to individual rights, legal rationality, freedom of speech and religion, the equality of women and men, and civil and political equality for all citizens. Such an anachronistic interpretation of Islam contradicts the creative spirit that gave rise to it and to other religions.

The Causes of the Problems

No adequate analysis of the current gloomy situation in the Middle East can ignore either external influences or internal conditions in the region, for the organic interaction of both contributes to the present reality. The role of external factors is well documented. [Page 39] Western societies, which were formerly militarily, economically, and culturally inferior or equal to the Islamic world, experienced a fundamental sociocultural revolution in their institutional structures during the last five centuries. Western societies made a break with the past and began to redefine and reconstruct themselves through the religious Reformation, the philosophical Enlightenment, the scientific revolution, industrialization, and capitalist economic development. Their achievements in science, technology, and institutional rationalization (that is, their rationalization of law, administration, economy, politics, religion, and education through the creation of differentiated, professionalized institutions) are impressive and have given them unprecedented economic and military power. This multifaceted cultural revolution was accompanied by the rise of nationalistic institutions, leading to an elaborate process of international rivalry, colonization, and domination of non-Western societies. Western nation-states conquered various parts of the world and deprived them of their autonomy and freedom.

The Middle East was no exception to the aggression by nationalistic capitalism. An examination of the pattern of Western intrusions into the Middle East during the nineteenth century reveals that whatever parts of the region were of strategic interest to Western powers became subject to colonial domination. Other areas of the Middle East that were of lesser strategic importance were rarely touched. For example, the Arabian Peninsula, which, with the exception of its coast, was of little interest to the West, developed an autonomous Wahhabi sociopolitical and religious order. Egypt, unlike the interior of the Arabian Peninsula, was of particular strategic importance to the West. Despite its relatively successful military and economic reform under the rule of Muḥammad ‘Alí Páshá during the first half of the nineteenth century, Egypt was occupied by British forces from 1882 to 1952, undermining its chances for sustained socioeconomic development.

The effects of World War I, the destruction of the Ottoman Empire, the creation of British and French mandates in the Fertile Crescent, and the drawing of present territorial and political boundaries in the Middle East are important factors of external control and imposition that have shaped the region. Western policies were directed primarily at satisfying the interests of the Western forces and not those of the local peoples. Such policies produced socioeconomic institutions that were not conducive to autonomous economic development in the Middle East. The combination of external factors shaping the socioeconomic institutions of the region explains the Middle East’s strong and persistent anti-Western attitude and its hostility toward modern culture.

A number of crucial internal factors have also contributed to the Middle East’s lack of development. While internal cultural modernization made European might and development possible, the failure of any such reformation in the Middle East contributed to its economic and political stagnation. The lack of institutionalized religious reform is particularly significant. As a result of the stagnation, modern culture, economic and administrative innovation, entrepreneurial skills, legal rationalization, and universalistic social norms have not had a chance to develop. All are indispensable elements of a sustained process of development. Instead of adopting an attitude of cultural innovation, the Middle East was deceived by its anachronistic sense of moral and cultural superiority. Those who lived there thought that, since their forbears had been one of the most [Page 40] economically and culturally creative empires of the world, they themselves need not learn anything from Western infidels. They equated anything modern with religious inferiority and heresy; hence they manifested a strong pattern of resistance to Western science, technology, administration, and culture during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Leading the resistance were the conservative religious ulama. Their insistence that the old Islamic institutions were superior to any modern innovation discouraged the people of the area from seeing or accepting as valid the rapid process of institutional rationalization that was occurring elsewhere in the world.

A comparison between Japan and the Middle East helps to explain the Middle East’s lack of development. Scholars of the region’s economic history such as Charles Issawi assert that a major factor in Japan’s development and the Middle East’s underdevelopment is their differing response to the challenge of modernity. Unlike the Middle East, Japan did not cling to the belief that its scientific, technological, educational, administrative, and cultural institutions were superior to those of Europe. Japan tried to learn the scientific and productive techniques of the Europeans without embracing their secular consumerist habits and attitudes, thereby keeping its craft industry alive while beginning the process of economic and institutional modernization. The Middle East, in contrast, imitated some of the superficial Western habits of consumption without questioning its own traditions and institutions. The result was the destruction of its craft industry during the nineteenth century and a growing dependence on foreign imports. Shocked by successive waves of military defeats by European forces, some of the Middle East’s political leaders tried to initiate bureaucratic and military reforms in the region. However, the reforms were superficial in scope, corrupt in policy, and lacking a clear strategy for development. Encountering strong resistance from the conservative ulama, the reforms failed. Furthermore, a growing dependence on foreign loans contributed to economic stagnation in the Middle East, increasing its vulnerability to outside control by Western forces.

Such a combination of internal and external factors encouraged the predominance of anachronistic tendencies in the Middle East. Equating modernism with outside domination, the various ideologies operating in the region sought to solve their problems through a total rejection of modern culture and a return to old Islamic institutions without regard to the structural changes occurring throughout the world. The flight to the politics of confessionalism has become particularly significant in recent decades because of the failure of other alternatives. However, the contradictions existing between fundamentalist policies and the universalistic, democratic, rights-oriented norms of the modern world lead to further inefficiency, underdevelopment, and cultural backwardness. At the same time, the persistently nationalistic structure of political institutions throughout the world perpetuates the particularistic, insensitive policies of rich nations toward less developed and developing countries—including those in the Middle East—leading to further miscommunication, domination, and intolerance in that troubled region.

Solutions

SHORT-TERM SOLUTIONS to the socioeconomic problems of the Middle East are of no avail. What is required is a long-term solution involving a change in perception, followed by structural changes that address the internal and external causes of underdevelopment. [Page 41] To truly address the problems of the Middle East involves not only the creation of a new cultural orientation in the region but a fundamental change in international political and cultural structures and orientation as well.

The Middle East must recognize that it will benefit from taking a more progressive and dynamic approach to reality. Doing so will allow its potentialities to unfold in accordance with the objective requirements of historical development. For example, rather than insisting on the particular forms of Islamic law concerning the status of women in society, the nations of the Middle East should emphasize the spirit of Islam and of revelation itself. The creative spirit of Islam, Christianity, and Judaism is based on the principle of the equality of all human beings and the sacredness of individual rights. Each of these religions affirms the existence of one God, the divine origin of all human beings, and their common reality as creations of God. However, it is important to remember that the spirit of revelation is expressed in a manner that suits the specific socioeconomic and cultural characteristics, constraints, and requirements of the time in which it is expressed. Consequently, particular expressions of Judaism, Christianity, or Islam are limited by the historical conditions of their time of revelation. The divergence among the contexts of the revealed religions implies that there will be tensions between the spirit of these religions and the particular laws and commandments as specific historical phenomena. There is no doubt that certain scriptural metaphors and social laws concerning the rights of women and men are not egalitarian. But the social laws of the revealed religions should not be confused with their essential spirit. Although neither Judaism, Christianity, nor Islam rejected the institution of slavery, this does not mean that the spirit of universal religion supports such an oppressive institution.

The modern world experiences a far different economy, technology, culture, and society than was present during the times in which the earlier universal religions such as Judaism, Christianity, and Islam were revealed. The world has experienced a scientific revolution, a democratic political revolution, an industrial revolution, and a communications revolution. It has become one organic, interdependent reality. Moreover, it is becoming increasingly evident that whatever happens to people in one part of the world affects the entire human race. Such a change in the condition of humanity implies that no one can remain content with outmoded expressions of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. Their creative spirit must be applied to the requirements of the modern world. The egalitarian principles of divine revelation are fully compatible with an ethics of universalism and a culture of rationality. The Middle East must go beyond the confessional politics of particularistic fundamentalism and apply the message, the spirit, and the essence of Islam to the historically emergent modern reality. This is the only way that the Middle East can combine cultural creativity with spiritual solidarity, and progress with order.

The Middle East’s adoption of an historical approach will require a new cultural orientation. One expression of such cultural innovation can be seen in the emergence of a new world religion, the Bahá’í Faith, which has its roots in the Middle East. From its inception in Iran in 1844, the Bahá’í Faith has insisted that humanity must maintain the basic spiritual and religious principles of the Middle East while recognizing the progressive, inevitable, and beneficial character of modern culture. The Bahá’í Faith describes itself as a historical continuation of the same creative spirit that gave rise to Islam, Christianity, and Judaism; it is a new revelation that is suited to the conditions of the present civilization. Thus Bahá’ís offer a new vision [Page 42] and a new cultural orientation that would benefit the Middle East. Unfortunately, Bahá’ís have always been a persecuted minority there.

While affirming the need for internal change in the Middle East, the Bahá’í Faith also emphasizes the need for external and international change. Simply put, we need a “new world order,” a term Bahá’ís have been using consistently since the mid-nineteenth century. To acknowledge the need for external change implies that existing nationalistic institutions are outdated. Excessive nationalism has gone beyond patriotism to become an oppressive force that creates conformist citizens who often act without regard for the rest of humanity. Because humanity is one family, everyone must learn to consider all human beings as children of the same God. All must learn to love one another, to help one another, and, as Bahá’u’lláh—the Founder of the Bahá’í Faith—said, to think of the world as one country and of humanity as its citizens. This new perception requires the creation of a new world federation; a new cultural and normative order that will emphasize the principle of unity in diversity; the adoption of a universal auxiliary language; and a new definition of self, society, and humanity.

It has become clear that merely balancing military power will not ensure lasting peace. This approach has failed in the past. In the Treaty of Westphalia in the seventeenth century, the West relied on the principle of the balance of military power, engendering mutual fear and hostility under comparable power alliances. The signatories to that treaty assumed that there would be no further religious or national wars in European societies. The inadequacy of the balance of military power as a deterrent to war can be seen in numerous later wars, including the Napoleonic invasion of Europe, the colonial rivalries of the nineteenth century, and the two world wars of the twentieth century.

How, then, can the world achieve a lasting, universal peace that will bring the Middle East within its embrace? To achieve global, lasting peace requires that all of the members of humanity define themselves as one people. The result will be a new sense of moral unity and cultural solidarity that will replace mutual hate and fear with reciprocal love and respect. A lasting peace is conditioned not upon mutual dislike but on a genuine sense of unity: I am like you, and you are like me; we are all mortal human creatures on the same earth, a fragile planet that belongs to all of us, and we must cooperate as much as we can to get along with each other and to assist one another. This new sense of international moral unity is the essence of the Bahá’í concept of the new world order. It is an order based on a new form of culture, values, and orientation in the context of an international commonwealth.

Bahá’u’lláh teaches that lasting universal peace is dependent on two conditions: a system of reward and punishment and the development of internal restraint in individuals. Calculation of the costly consequences of deviation from legal and ethical norms should be inculcated into the lives of individuals and institutionalized within nations. The system of justice is the instrumental and rationalistic aspect of world peace and social order. Steps toward erecting such a structure and achieving an instrumental world order can be seen in international agreements and treaties, the active enforcement of international conventions by international forces, the demilitarization of the world, the elimination of aggressive military spending by all nations, and the use of international tribunals. However, punishment and fear of others is not sufficient to ensure respect for universalistic moral norms, the maintenance of peace, and an effective social order. Order, morality, and peace require the development of internal restraint. Such a normative orientation, Bahá’u’lláh says, is guaranteed through [Page 43] the love and fear of God, which make respect and love for others a habitual, systematic moral orientation. Bahá’u’lláh writes:

In Our laws and principles a chapter has been devoted to the law of retaliation which is the cause of the protection and preservation of people; but the people’s dread of that law withholds them only outwardly from committing base and unseemly deeds. But that which prevents and guards men both outwardly and inwardly from base deeds is the fear of God.

Lasting universal peace demands not only a global federation but also a normative orientation capable of bringing all people together and creating among them a sense of moral unity. In a Tablet to “the elected representatives of the people in every land,” Bahá’u’lláh said, “Regard the world as the human body which . . . hath been afflicted through various causes, with grave disorders and maladies.” The “mightiest instrument” for healing the world, He says, is the recognition of global interdependence and the attainment of moral and spiritual union of all the peoples of the world. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Bahá’u’lláh’s son and successor, reaffirmed Bahá’u’lláh’s message when He said that peace requires “unity of conscience” in the world. That is the original message of all religions, including Judaism, Christianity, Islam, and the Bahá’í Faith.

[Page 44]

[Page 45]

From Avicenna to the
Addams Family

A REVIEW OF WILLIAM S. HATCHER’S Logic and Logos: Essays on Science, Religion and Philosophy (OXFORD: GEORGE RONALD, 1990) 147 PAGES

BY JOHN DANESH AND WILLIAM MICHAEL

Copyright © 1994 by John Danesh and William Michael.

FOR MORE THAN thirty years William S. Hatcher has explored the relationship between science and religion and tried to bring the two closer. He has not chosen an easy task. Even giants such as Albert Einstein and Julian Huxley were scorned by their peers for writing about scientific religion. Times have changed, and attitudes have softened somewhat, partly because of the philosophical shift toward systems theory and the publication of several popular books such as Fritjof Capra’s The Tao of Physics and Gary Zukav’s The Dancing Wu Li Masters that discuss the links between Eastern religions and modern physics. But for most people the chasm remains wide, and the perplexed feel that they still must choose between the dogma of religion and the enigma of science.

Hatcher expresses some of his most recent thoughts on the subject in a collection of five essays published under the title Logic and Logos. These essays are full of both. Two of them are written in the language of modern formal logic. One, “From Metaphysics to Logic,” is a modern formulation of Avicenna’s cosmological proof of God’s existence. The other, “A Logical Solution to the Problem of Evil,” deals with the age-old problem of evil, treating it as a relative rather than absolute entity. Imaginative readers are led to conclude that even “evils” such as television’s Addams family are actually relatively good. The language of the other three essays, though less formal, is also frequently technical but always justifiably so. To the uninitiated reader such formalism may be forbidding, but Hatcher—a mathematician and logician— is primarily addressing his peers in their own rigorous language.

Other than sharing a formal style and themes of science and religion, the essays are not obviously linked and lack a narrative thread. They were written as separate papers over a period of fifteen years. The first three essays are published for the first time; the final two works, “A Logical Solution to the Problem of Evil” and “Science and the Bahá’í Faith,” are reprinted more than a decade after their original publication. Yet a central thesis emerges: If the scientific method is capable of providing accurate models of the material world, it should be able to do the same for the nonmaterial world. Each of the essays is reviewed in the critical spirit Hatcher encourages.

[Page 46]46 WORLD ORDER: FALL 1994 In the first essay, “Platonism and Pragmatism,” Hatcher pulls things apart and puts them together in new, interesting, and suggestive combinations. He separates the ontological and epistemological parts of Platonism. The ontological component of Platonism is the view that eternal, abstract objects exist and (some of them) are faithfully reflected by the structure of the material world. The epistemological component is that we obtain direct knowledge of abstract objects by intuition.

Hatcher then combines the ontology of Platonism with a pragmatic scientific epistemology. This is a bold proposal, for one of the attractions of pragmatic epistemologies is that they are thought to remove the embarrassing need for abstract objects. At the same time, abstract objects are thought to remove the embarrassing need for fallible epistemologies. To demonstrate the plausibility of his proposal, Hatcher shows how four aspects of scientific practice could be explained by the existence of a world of abstract objects. His arguments are elegant and sound, but it is disappointing that he mistreats one of the most exciting areas of scientific inquiry by stating that biochemistry is “still today virtually nothing more than an incredibly large mass of facts” with a weak theoretical basis.

In the second essay, “Myths, Models and Mysticism,” Hatcher distinguishes between myths and models. Both are what Hatcher calls “theories,” or possible representations of the world. Both may be true or false, or may contain degrees of truth and falsity. What distinguishes myths from models is the way they are accepted. Acceptance is a social process by which we make some theory part of our “world view.” If a theory is accepted because of its truthfulness, it is a model. If a theory is accepted because of its usefulness, it is a myth. “Useful” here means satisfying “some important human need or needs.” To explain, he adds, “A useful theory is one we would like to be true.” After a theory is accepted, it describes “how we might expect reality to behave.” Hatcher need hardly add— for it is what we expect him to say—that models are better than myths. (Incidentally, this expectation is consistent with Hatcher's historical schema, which comes later in the essay.)

Myths and models, however, are more similar than the essay suggests. Recall that Hatcher suggests a myth is a theory that is accepted because it satisfies an important human need. If one accepts that truth is an important human need, which it surely must be, all models are also myths (but not the converse: all myths are not models). Hence models become a subset of the set of all myths.

Another criticism arises if one asks whether there is anything in the world that fits the description of “myth” as Hatcher defines it. Are there, in fact, any myths? We think not. The reason is that Hatcher’s definition of myth requires one to believe that human beings consciously act irrationally. In particular, it requires that people have regularly accepted some theory as true on grounds other than their own criteria for truth. This follows from Hatcher’s position because to accept a theory is to accept it as true, while for a theory to be a myth, it must be accepted because it is useful and not because it is true. To observe the irrationality of this position, notice that it implies someone’s sincerely affirming, “I believe theory T is true, although it satisfies none of my criteria for truth.” While this is not strictly a contradiction, it is incoherent and irrational. Although others may wish to do so, we do not want [Page 47] to attribute such irrationality to people. The problem is internal: any person accepting a myth is acting irrationally by his or her own standards.

The third essay, “From Metaphysics to Logic,” proceeds in three steps. In the first step Hatcher presents Aristotle’s “first cause” argument for the existence of God and criticizes it. In the second step he examines the argument of Avicenna, an eleventh-century Islamic physician and philosopher. Avicenna’s account is demonstrated to be superior to Aristotle’s by virtue of its impermeability to some of the criticisms made against the latter. As a third step, Hatcher presents his own version of the argument, using modern formal logic and set theory. His argument does not suffer from the weaknesses of Avicenna’s and is an impressive example of rational progress.

The fourth essay, “A Logical Solution to the Problem of Evil,” deals with a problem pondered by philosophers since at least the time of Epicurus and discussed by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá in Some Answered Questions. Hatcher’s solution expresses some aspects of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s thoughts using the formal language of modern logic. The problem may be summarized as follows. Take the three claims: (a) God is omnipotent, (b) God is wholly good, and (c) there is some evil in the world. The truth of any two of the claims seems inconsistent with the remaining third. For example, if there is evil in the world and God is good, then God is not omnipotent, for if He were omnipotent He could remove evil—something that a good God would do. Or so it would appear.

The essential step in Hatcher's solution is a particular logical analysis of the notion of evil found in claim (c). Normally one thinks of things as simply evil or not. Hatcher’s proposal rejects this analysis and replaces it with the relative term “is less good than.” Hence he would suggest that claim (c) should properly be “that something in the world is less good than another thing.” With this change, he goes on to show how the three claims making up the problem of evil are consistent.

Hatcher’s argument has not gone unnoticed. The essay has been criticized in an academic journal, but we think his successful rebuttal demonstrates the strength of the argument.

Hatcher’s final essay in Logic and Logos is called “Science and the Bahá’í Faith.” He argues that the great advances technology has made during the past few centuries have been due to the application of the scientific method, which he defines as “the systematic, organized, directed, and conscious use of our various mental faculties in an effort to arrive at a coherent model of whatever phenomenon is being investigated.” As the definition implies, Hatcher believes that the scientific method can be applied to the study of virtually all phenomena, including religion. He convincingly shows that the subjectivity and relativity of knowledge attributed to religion are common to both material and abstract phenomena and, thus, should not deter one from taking a scientific approach to religion. Hatcher then invites the reader to judge the Bahá’í Faith by the scientific method. This dissection of the scientific method from the content usually associated with it is original and compelling. Hatcher exposes the narrowness of positivism while laying bare the erraticism of existentialism.

But there are important differences between religious truth and other kinds of truth that the essay does not explore. For example, the rejection of a religious claim may be associated with more far-reaching personal [Page 48] consequences than disagreement with most scientific theories (such as believing the earth is the center of the universe). In the Tablet of Aḥmad, Bahá’u’lláh writes, “Be thou assured in thyself that verily, he who turns away from this Beauty hath also turned away from the Messengers of the past and showeth pride towards God from all eternity to all eternity.” Even if this passage may have been intended primarily for Bábís, it seems to suggest that God judges a person’s response to revelation differently from how He judges one’s response to scientific theories. If anything, this makes a careful scientific approach to religion all the more important, especially since ‘Abdu’l-Bahá and Shoghi Effendi have pointed out the limitations of intuition alone.

Second, Hatcher seems to suggest that using the scientific method to investigate religion requires special preparation and training. For example, he refers to the need for “a community of understanding” among scientists; if religion is to follow science, this implies the same need in religion. But the discovery of religious truth is open to everyone, from the most simple to the most intellectually sophisticated. Unlike science, religion makes a personal demand on every person, not just specialists, to adjudicate its truth or falsity.

Finally, religion sometimes requires the acceptance of certain beliefs or practices by fiat—an order or decree that is accepted on the authority of its source, although it may appear arbitrary. For example, Bahá’ís accept that women are excluded from membership on the Universal House of Justice, yet they believe in the equality of women and men and accept that someday this apparent contradiction will be clarified. Religion sometimes requires faith rather than mental exercise.

It has been more than twenty-five years since William Hatcher published the essay “Science and Religion” in World Order. Those who have followed his many works since then will recognize in Logic and Logos the same acute and logical mind. In this collection of essays he has crystallized some of his most powerful thoughts on the subject and produced a book of high intellectual merit.

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Authors & Artists

JOHN DANESH, who interned at the Royal Melbourne Hospital, completed his medical degree in 1992, graduating with the highest marks in the 130-year history of Otago University Medical School, Dunedin, New Zealand. He is the author of some twenty publications, including “Four Peace Messages, 1983-85: A Comparison,” which appeared in the Fall 1989/Winter 1989-90 issue of World Order. He is presently pursuing a Ph.D. at Oxford University as a Rhodes scholar.

WILMA M. ELLIS, who holds an Ed.D. in education administration from the University of Massachusetts, is the Administrator-General of the Bahá’í International Community Offices, New York and Geneva. Dr. Ellis is also a member of the International Advisory Board of the Bahá’í Chair for World Peace at the Center for International Development and Conflict Management of the University of Maryland.

DUANE L. HERRMANN works with the Kansas Public Employees Retirement System. A fourth-generation member of a Kansas farm family, he recalls seeing the Bahá’í House of Worship in Wilmette, Illinois, while watching family movies of a Kansas Farm Bureau tour. He is the author of numerous poems, a number of articles on poetry and history, and the book Fasting, The Sun and its Moons: A Bahá’í Handbook.

WILLIAM MICHAEL has earned degrees in philosophy and law from the University of Otago in Dunedin, New Zealand, and is currently working toward a Master of Law degree at the University of Auckland.

NADER SAIEDI is a professor of sociology at Carleton College. He holds an M.S. degree in economics from Pahlavi University and a Ph.D. in sociology from the University of Wisconsin. He is the author of many articles and The Birth of Social Theory, a study of social theories of the Enlightenment and the Romantic period. His “Faith, Reason, and Society in Bahá’í Perspective” appeared in the Spring/Summer 1987 issue of World Order.

MARLAINA B. TANNY, a poet and choreographer, lives in the West Indies, where she is a tutor for members of the Barbados Dance Theater. She is also working on her first novel.

BARBARA MURRAY TURNER is a geologist interested in poetry, paleontology, folk dancing, and silversmithing.

ART CREDITS: Cover design by John Solarz; cover photograph, Steve Garrigues; p. 1, photograph, Steve Garrigues; p. 3, photograph, Camille O’Reilly; p. 5, photograph, Nat Daniels; pp. 8, 16, photographs, Steve Garrigues; p. 32, Hans J. Knospe; p. 44, photograph, Steve Garrigues.

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