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engage seeming opposite, even hostile others who are no less human for being unlike us.

      No global civilization can exclude Islam, but how to include it? The search for an inclusive civilizational ethos worthy of the name reached a tipping point for me in the United Kingdom last year. It was mid-February 2019. I was at the University of Exeter as a visiting scholar in residence. We had just completed a 2-hr lunchtime workshop. I got to pick the topic and the title for the talk. My title: “Islamicate Cosmopolitan?”

      The title, posed as a question, was intended to be provocative. What is Islamicate? And who qualifies as an Islamicate cosmopolitan?

      After an intense exchange that went beyond the usual lunch hour, we were about to disperse when a senior colleague asked: “So what?”

“So what?!” I rejoined, in surprise.

      “You have made our lunch hour into two hours,” he joked, adding “You have reflected on all the options and argued for a new tongue twister—Islamicate cosmopolitan. But do you really feel that this phrase is an epistemic turn worth pursuing? Where can one find a guide for the perplexed, some text illumining our understanding of both Islamicate and its coordinate term, cosmopolitan?”

      This manifesto is my answer to my colleague’s challenge. My motive is also my hope: to enliven each term with the other, Islamicate as cosmopolitan, cosmopolitan as Islamicate. But each needs a further referent, and so I am introducing a still broader trope: Islamicate Cosmopolitan Spirit, itself the entry way to civilizational options at once inclusive and enduring.

      Islamicate Cosmopolitan Spirit

      Since a manifesto is an extended general essay rather than a specialized monograph, I want to stress each word in my chosen topic: Islamicate Cosmopolitan Spirit. At the most basic level each connotes a surplus: Islamicate is more than Islamic or Muslim, Cosmopolitan is more than congenial or civil, and Spirit is more than subject or agent. Together Islamicate Cosmopolitan Spirit projects the presence of a tidal wave in world history that remains hidden for most, opaque for many, and misunderstood even by experts.

      Each of these three key terms requires a brief history. But they also elicit a prior question about history itself: is historical revision desirable, even necessary? If so, is it possible without revising the categories or key terms in which history is framed?

For Islam, there is a need for revisionist terminology. I would argue that the need is even more urgent because “Islam” has become encumbered with misinterpretation in public discourse since 1979 and the Iranian revolution but even more since the terrorist attacks of 9/11 and two wars in largely Muslim countries: first Afghanistan, then Iraq. What must be foregrounded at the outset is stubborn resistance, from many quarters, to moving beyond “Islam” or “Muslim” in order to describe the 1,400-year experience that marked the birth, growth, and expansion of a 7th-century Arabian political-religious movement into a transregional presence. Islam did originate from Arabia but it quickly extended westward to Spain and eastward to China. Far from being Arab centered, the Islam movement redefined much of Africa and Asia, while itself being redefined by Africa and Asia, before impacting what became Western Europe and North America. The nagging question persists: what has been the surplus of value beyond Arab origins and Arabic language in its continued expansion and adaptation to multiple contexts in myriad cultures? In cultural studies, “Islamic music,” “Islamic literature,” and “Islamic art” persist as labels. In philosophical studies, “Islamic philosophy” continues to be invoked, while in historical studies one must look hard to find alternatives to “Islamic history.” Even revisionists balk at changing their key terms, but I want to argue from the outset that unless that change is made, and unless it is consistently applied, there can be no revisionism worthy of the name. Old habits die slowly but die they must if a fresh vision is to emerge. A new day is dawning for understanding the long shadow of early 7th-century Arabia. The path will not be just through micro-analysis or regional studies but through meta-discourse, at the heart of which is salient and defensible key terms. A meta-discursive provocation is the goal of what follows.

      What is Islamicate? Islamicate is neither a first nor a second but a third order of identity beyond “Muslim” and “Islamic,” its two precursors, both crowded with religious valence. Despite its prevalence, religion itself can become a veil rather than a catalyst for understanding broad historical movements. Neither “Muslim” nor “Islamic” because of their close association with “religion” can reveal the tapestry of culture and cultural networks, and without being revealed that tapestry remains occluded, undervalued, too often minimalized, or ignored.

“Muslim” marks a religious but also a social identity. In 2020 “Muslim” is the first order of identity for about 2 billion out of nearly 8 billion of the world’s population. One can be a Muslim by birth or by decision. In Arabic there are no capital letters, yet in English one is able to distinguish between two kinds of Muslim/muslim, one capitalized, the other not. In a revisionist vocabulary one should be able to note the distinction. Who is a muslim with a small “m”? Who is a Muslim with a capital “M”? In the latter case, to be Muslim is to avow Islam as a pious, practicing individual but one can also be muslim, in the lower case, by association as the member of a collective, whether family, country, region, or the globe, that has been marked by Islam without professing or practicing Islam. Non-Muslims, of course, can also be muslims. If I were a thoroughgoing revisionist, I would distinguish between both categories in what follows, but since English does not yield to such lexical subtleties without constant bracketing in inverted commas, that endeavor would distract from my major purpose: to underscore the need for an alternative to religious monikers, both “Islamic” and “Muslim.” In what follows, I will refer to Muslim, even though “muslim” remains an undertone of Muslim for those who are non-Muslim but also for many who may be neither devout nor observant as Muslims yet are routinely assumed to be cradle-to-grave believers in Allah as God, Muhammad as His last prophet, and the Qur’an as the final revelation for humankind.

Equally valuable but also ambivalent is “Islamic.” Reflexively, “Islamic” serves as the second order of identity for one who is Muslim. To be Muslim is to connect with Islam across centuries and borders, always acknowledging the norms and values linked to Islamic texts, leaders, and institutions. Yet the intrusion of English and the now commonplace usage of “Islamist” with a violent connotation makes it imperative to rethink the larger contour of Islamicate history. Over 1,400 years Islam has often been portrayed with negative stereotypes, from the medieval Crusades to modern colonialism but added to that multiply layered identity of Muslim/Islamic is the recent history of Islam, often defined by headlines of violence during the past half-century. The 1970s were marked by two eruptions: the Iranian Revolution (February 1979), followed by the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan (December 1979). These two events inaugurated a series of wars and crises that highlight Muslims and Islam as, in Elaine Sciolino’s phrase, “the Green menace,” replacing the disappearing (but now reappearing) “Red menace,” that is, the Soviet Union or Greater Russia.

      While I oppose the contemporary or presentist bias, I also cannot ignore its pervasive influence. It produces a stigma, the stigma attached to Islam and, by extension, Muslims—too often riffed as Islamists—in 21st-century Euro-America. Unavoidable is the gaze of global media that defines events and actors through soundbites and images, usually negative. With the ubiquitous instant info world that we now take for granted, where tweets often count more than books, newspapers, or even television, one must ask: can Islam ever be free of the weaponizing proclivity of terror images? There are more than 1 billion Muslims worldwide, and few have anything to do with terror, yet if every Muslim is deemed a potential Islamist, can Islam itself be retained as a category of analysis without further exceptionalizing, minoritizing, and negativizing Muslims? For “Muslim” cosmopolitanism to work, it must extract the category “Islam” from the baggage it has acquired through daily, media saturation with negative images of Arab/Muslim/Islamic. If bad or violent, “Muslims” will appear in headlines, TV news, and tweets, but if good or cosmopolitan, they are relegated to the bylines or omitted, not just from essays and articles but also by visual media.

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