Knowledge is classically divided into badihi (self-evident) and nazari (acquired through reasoning). The former refers to that which is gained without deliberation or inference, while the latter refers to what is derived from the former through reflection and reasoning. The result of this division is that badihi knowledge is treated as foundational, and everything else is considered a branch of it.
Philosophy began as an inquiry into external realities. Eventually, the discussion shifted to the nature of cognition itself. When badihi knowledge was treated as foundational, its mark was said to be that it admits no disagreement. However, the human condition is such that it can dispute everything. That is exactly what happened—doubts and suspicions arose.
Today, the situation is such that:
- One group insists that only the perceived (mahsus) is real and that all thought arises from sense experience. The mind is a tabula rasa, a blank slate, upon which nothing is inscribed prior to perception.
- Another claims that knowledge consists of the inner states of the self (nufs), and outside of these experiences, we can be certain of nothing—not even that anything else exists.
- A third asserts that nothing is certain except the effects of sense perception.
- A fourth declares that both sensation and reason are unreliable—thus, certainty and conviction do not exist at all.
What is the result?
The first group denies reason, the soul, God, and the Hereafter.
The second denies the very existence of the material world.
The third denies both and affirms nothing but abstract knowledge.
The fourth negates knowledge and certainty altogether and accepts none of these.
When Descartes famously declared “I think, therefore I am,” he was attempting, after Socrates and Plato, to rescue knowledge and philosophy from this very sea of skepticism ¹.
In the postmodern era, this same skepticism has resurfaced through the deconstruction of language. It now claims that no sign (signifier) refers to any fixed object (signified), because no fixed reality exists in the first place. The meaning of every word depends on other words in the sentence. Add or subtract a word, and the entire meaning changes. Thus, meaning is neither in words nor in sentences—it exists nowhere. Every word defers meaning to the next, and this deferral never ends.
Meaning, therefore, is never final. And if meanings are indefinite, then the values derived from them are also baseless and lack absoluteness ². This is the journey of those who sought truth without the light of divine revelation. Iqbal was not wrong when he said:
ہے دانشِ برہانی حیرت کی فراوانی
Rational knowledge brings an excess of bewilderment.
In contrast, the Quran bases its reasoning upon the natural knowledge that is inspired into the human soul. All human knowledge, action, thought, and reasoning is in fact rooted in this knowledge. There is no doubt that what we perceive first is what appears self-evident. That is why we assume badihi knowledge as the starting point of inquiry. But we overlook the fact that it is actually this natural knowledge that enables us to grasp the self-evident and then, through it, reach the rational and theoretical.
Without this natural knowledge, there would be no perception, no self-evidence, no reasoning— nothing. What comes from outside are merely subjects (mawduat). Their judgment (hukm) does not come from outside; it already exists within the soul. It is the soul that renders judgment—and frequently transforms subjects into new subjects, in order to render new judgments upon them. Perception and discernment are simply manifestations of this faculty. The former is the act; the latter, the source of knowledge. The distinction between essence and attributes, subject and predicate, action and reaction, beauty and ugliness, perceived and unperceived, essence and its properties—all originates from this same inner knowledge.
The impressions that reach the soul through the senses—drawing conclusions about the causes of those impressions—is the function of this knowledge. It is through it that we attain certainty of external realities. So long as a person remains human, they cannot deny the judgments of this knowledge. It reigns over the soul. Submitting to it is not a matter of choice—it is an inner compulsion, just like the compulsions of physical instincts.
You may ask: if humans can reject everything, why not this knowledge too? The answer is: yes, they can deny it in words—but the moment they do, their actions, their limbs, their condition all contradict that denial. It becomes obvious to any sound-minded person that such denial is pure obstinacy.
Imam Hamiduddin Farahi, on this basis, referred to this as ilm-i iztirari—compelled knowledge —and he was absolutely correct when he said that the human soul contains a place of inspiration (mahbat al-ilham)—its true center. From this center arises that circle of knowledge which we rightly call natural. After this come badihi and nazari. Therefore, knowledge should not simply be divided into badihi and nazari, but rather into four types: rooted (jadhri), natural (fitri), selfevident (badihi), and acquired (nazari)—because this is the true reality.
In This Light, Consider the Following:
The Quran tells us that belief in the Creator is inherent in the nature of all created beings. Their very existence demands the acknowledgment of their dependence on a Creator. When presented with the idea of a Creator, they require no rational argument—only a reminder, a gentle awakening. It is a fact that no created being denies its Creator; when reminded, it rushes to affirm Him just as a thirsty soul rushes to water. The Quran recounts that when God asked the progeny of Adam, “Am I not your Lord?”, they all replied in unison, “Yes, indeed, You are our Lord.” (Al-Araf 7:172)
Yet we know that, in worldly life, human beings sometimes do deny their Lord. This, however, is nothing but obstinate defiance (mukabara). The moment such denial is voiced, that very same individual simultaneously seeks—within the bounds of their own knowledge—a doer for every effect, a willer for every intent, a bearer for every quality, a cause for every outcome, and a wise organizer (nazim) for every observable system. His entire intellectual endeavor is but a chronicle of this restless search. This contradiction between word and deed reveals the utter hollowness of his denial.
The same is true for the awareness of good and evil. The Quran states that the distinction between right and wrong—and the moral sense that right is right and wrong is wrong—has been inspired into the human soul from the moment of its creation. Yet man sometimes denies this too. But such denial can only be described as obstinacy. For the very moment he denies it, if he is made the target of wrongdoing, he instantly identifies the wrong as wrong, protests it with his whole being, and demands justice. Furthermore, when good is done to him, he responds with gratitude and respect. Whenever he establishes a society, he inevitably sets up systems of justice. His laws, courts, and international institutions all testify to this truth.
The matter of linguistic meaning follows the same principle. The Quran declares itself to be the mizan (scale), furqan (criterion), and the final arbiter of disputes.
It claims to have communicated its message with such clarity that it will be the basis upon which humanity will be held accountable on the Day of Judgment, and its judgments will determine whether one enters Paradise or Hell. This claim is founded on the natural human conviction that language is capable of conveying definite meaning, and that speech can convey certainty.
The great scholars of law and hadith have long recognized this, stating as a principle: “What is established by the Quran is definitive and binding in both knowledge and practice” (مَا ثَبَتَ بِالْقُرْآنِ قَطْعِيٌّ مُوجِبٌ لِلْعِلْمِ وَالْعَمَلِ)
Theologians influenced by philosophical skepticism, however, have challenged this. They argue that the denotation of words is only conjectural (zanni), and thus it is not the words of the Quran, but rational arguments that serve as the ultimate criterion for truth and falsehood ³. But if we reflect, this too is mere obstinacy. For when they present this view, they do so using the very medium of words—and with no hesitation or doubt that their audience will fully grasp their meaning. Nor do they hesitate when listening to others or reading their writings. And when it comes to debates, every word they speak affirms the certainty of linguistic meaning. This is the human soul bearing witness to itself—and there is no greater testimony than this:
-⁴ بَلِ الْإِنْسَانُ عَلَى نَفْسِهِ بَصِيرَةٌ وَلَوْ أَلْقَى مَعَاذِيرَهُ.
"Indeed, man is a witness against his own soul—even if he offers excuses."
Ibn al-Qayyim writes:
مَنْ ادَّعَى أَنَّهُ لَا طَرِيقَ لَنَا إِلَى الْيَقِينِ بِمُرَادِ الْمُتَكَلِّمِ، لِأَنَّ الْعِلْمَ بِمُرَادِهِ مَوْقُوفٌ عَلَى الْعِلْمِ بِانْتِفَاءِ عَشَرَةِ أَشْيَاءَ فَهُوَ مَلْبُوسٌ عَلَى النَّاسِ؛ فَإِنَّ هَذَا الْوَضْعَ لَمْ يَحْصُلْ لِأَحَدِ الْعِلْمُ بِكَلَامِ الْمُتَكَلِّمِ قَطُّ. وَبَطَلَتْ فَائِدَةُ التَّخَاطُبِ، وَانْتَفَتْ خَاصِّيَّةُ الْإِنْسَانِ، وَصَارَ النَّاسُ كَالْبَهَائِمِ، بَلْ أَسْوَأُ حَالًا. وَلِمَا عَلِمَ غَرَضَ هَذَا الْمُصَنِّفِ مِنْ تَصْنِيفِهِ؟ وَهَذَا بَاطِلٌ بِضَرُورَةِ الْحِسِّ وَالْعَقْلِ. وَبُطْلَانُهُ مِنْ أَكْثَرَ مِنْ ثَلَاثِينَ وَجْهًا مَذْكُورَةٌ فِي غَيْرِ هَذَا الْمَوْضِعِ.
“Whoever claims that we have no path to reach certainty about the speaker’s intended meaning —on the grounds that knowledge of it depends on the negation of ten prior conditions⁵—is simply confused and is trying to confuse others. For if this were true, then no one could ever understand what anyone meant. The purpose of speech would be nullified. Human beings would lose what makes them distinct from animals—and become worse than them. We wouldn’t even be able to determine the purpose of the author who compiled such a statement. Both reason and sensory perception declare this claim to be necessarily false. There are more than thirty arguments against it, which are discussed elsewhere.” (Ilam al-Muwaqqiin, 3:109)
References:
[1] “Cogito ergo sum.” Descartes’ attempt also failed to be decisive, because even in this, the foundation of innate truths within human nature was not made the basis of reasoning. Consequently, Jacques Derrida was the first to target this very tradition, which rests on the metaphysical status of existence, and he insisted that even “my existence” holds no reality— because it too has no definitive meaning.
[2] The proponents of this viewpoint fail to consider that their very reasoning itself is an expression of their conviction in the validity of reason and logic. The truth is that the negation of certainty cannot be done without recourse to a certainty greater than it. This is a compulsion of human nature. Hence, every attempt at negation ends up affirming what it seeks to deny. But the tragedy of man is that, in the intensity of emotion, he chooses to evade and move on. Personal freedom and individuality—on which these individuals stake everything—are themselves values, and the insistence on negating all values serves nothing except to affirm one particular value again. In other words, it is the same predicament: neither a place to stay nor the feet to depart.
[3] The thinkers of the postmodern era are trying to snatch away even this foundation of certainty from man. After that, what will remain with him except meaninglessness and profound uncertainty? And where his sufferings will reach as a result—no one can truly estimate.
[4] Surah al-Qiyamah14–15: “Man will be a witness against himself no matter what excuses he puts forward.”
[5] That is, polysemy, metaphor, transfer (of meaning), ambiguity, specification, rational contradiction, etc. For details, see: Sharh al-Mawaqif, al-Jurjani, 2/51.