A graduate student recently
observed that my sustained focus on human rights—evident from my Ph.D.
dissertation on property and inheritance rights through my subsequent
publications—might make my current engagement with Ibn Khaldun appear to mark a
significant shift in scholarly direction. This is a fair and thoughtful
observation, and one that calls for a clear response.
In truth, it took me more
than two decades to fully recognize that human rights have always been the
underlying axis of my scholarship: the steady thread connecting projects that
span over a millennium of human history. My first book examined women’s rights
in Islamic societies; my second explored dissent and rebellion, with particular
attention to Ibadism—the only Islamic tradition that explicitly grounds
political legitimacy in justice. My third work addressed human rights discourse
more directly, tracing its evolution through both the Enlightenment’s enduring
legacy and modern Islamic thought. Viewed in this light, my turn to Ibn Khaldun
does not represent a departure from earlier concerns, but rather a deepening of
them—a move toward more foundational questions about the very possibility of
universal rights.
If anything can meaningfully
be described as a universal right—and I remain convinced that some rights
can—then universality must be demonstrated, not merely asserted. It is
difficult to sustain the claim that human beings possess inalienable rights in
the abstract if those rights leave no discernible trace in historical
experience: if they were never articulated, contested, or implicitly recognized
across diverse societies and epochs. This is not to suggest that historical
recognition constitutes the source of a right, but rather that
historical traceability is essential to establishing its claim to universality.
A right that cannot, in principle, be grounded across time and culture risks
collapsing into a culturally bounded moral preference rather than a genuinely
universal human claim.
For this reason, inquiry into
the deep past is not optional—it is indispensable. The tendency among some
Western scholars to treat human rights as a purely modern, Western
invention—rather than as claims with deeper human antecedents—ultimately
undermines their own arguments for universality. If rights are merely the
products of a specific historical moment, their global applicability becomes
conceptually fragile.
A second, equally compelling
consideration led me decisively toward classical Islamic—and broader
premodern—thought. Human rights cannot endure if they remain confined to the
level of moral assertion or legal proclamation. To function as more than rhetorical
gestures, rights must rest on a universal principle capable of grounding human
dignity and worth regardless of legal regime, cultural tradition, or historical
context. Identifying such a principle demands an inquiry that is both deep and
wide—one that penetrates beneath normative language to the very conditions that
make claims of right intelligible, contestable, and socially resonant.
My engagement with Ibn
Khaldun—particularly in contrast with earlier strands of classical Islamic
thought—convinced me that if such a principle exists, it is most likely to be
articulated by a thinker who moves beyond religious ethics alone to uncover the
governing logic of social life itself. Ibn Khaldun does not offer a theory of
rights in the modern sense, nor does he frame his analysis in moralistic or
juridical terms. Instead, he seeks to understand the forces through which human
societies generate value, sustain cohesion, and ultimately flourish or decay.
It is precisely this analytic posture—his focus on the structural and
historical dynamics of social life—that renders his thought indispensable for
rethinking the foundations of human rights.
Engaging Ibn Khaldun has
opened new horizons for rights discourse—one in which universality is not
secured primarily through legal codification or moral consensus, but through
the identification of a fundamental human activity capable of anchoring claims
of dignity and worth across civilizations. In this sense, Ibn Khaldun provides
a vital bridge between contemporary human rights discourse and deeper,
transhistorical principles that precede—and may well outlast—modern legal
formulations.
This expanded intellectual
horizon has inevitably required me to revisit and revise certain conclusions
from my earlier work. Such revision reflects not inconsistency, but scholarly
growth. Conclusions drawn within a limited evidentiary frame must be reassessed
as that frame widens. What remains constant, however, is my central concern
with rights—not as abstract ideals, but as claims that must be rooted in the
realities of human social existence. Readers should therefore understand my
work as shaped by a sustained commitment: to identify the conditions under
which claims of right can be meaningfully universalized, rather than merely
declared.
Ahmed E. Souaiaia
University of Iowa
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