Salam, Science and Secularism

The following is the text of the talk given by Pervez Hoodbhoy, professor of physics in Islamabad, at the Salam Memorial Meeting in Trieste, Italy, November 19-22, 1997. Hoodbhoy details how and why the Nobel Prize winning physicist was rejected by his home country, Pakistan, and concludes that science and civilization can progress only if a country is run by laws guaranteeing equal rights to all its citizens.

Very properly this memorial meeting is to honour Professor Abdus

Salam for his spectacular achievements, both as a physicist and for having

created this Centre, now a focal point for scientific development in the

Third World. It is a historic moment that, from today, the Centre shall be

known as the Abdus Salam Centre for Theoretical Physics. I cannot think of

any great physicist of this century who has been honoured at a comparable

level.


It is, therefore, with considerable hesitation that I have chosen

to talk not about Salam's brilliant successes but, instead, his most

spectacular failure, by which I mean his unfulfilled quest to bring

science to Pakistan and other Muslim countries of the world.


Three reasons compel me to talk about unpleasant matters in a

meeting where so many pleasant things have been said over the last three

days.


First, Salam was passionately committed to the idea that the

cultural and material improvement of society hinges critically upon it

developing science. He wished this for all countries, but did so with

special intensity for the country of his birth. Hence to let his

unfulfilled expectations pass without comment would be a significant

omission.


Second, Salam's failure does not take away from him or make him a

lesser person. Rather, it forces us to confront the question: what went

wrong? It particularly demands that those of us who live in Pakistan ask

why scientific and social development in our country continues to elude

us, and why it appears an even more distant goal than it was 30 years ago.

To my mind, telling the truth now - harsh though it be - may well be the

only way of avoiding tragedy in the future.


Third, it is almost entirely in the context of Third World

scientific development that I got to know Professor Salam. Over a period

of many years, I had the privilege of engaging with him in numerous

discussions and correspondence. I first met him as an awe-struck

undergraduate student at MIT in 1972, and then as a visitor to the Centre

in 1978. However, these were non-events. He did not know me then, or, for

that matter, need to know. It was in 1985 that I was pleasantly surprised

to receive a letter from him in Islamabad, where I was (and am) teaching,

saying that he had read my critique of orthodox Islamist attempts to

create an "Islamic Science" and the role of religious intolerance in

destroying Muslim intellectual achievements many centuries ago. He

suggested that, should I visit the Centre, he would like me to call upon

him.


I can, therefore, date my association with Prof. Salam to the

summer of 1985. The following year he suggested that we jointly author a

preface to Michael Moravcsik's book "On the road to world-wide science",

which he had just received. I was proud to accept. Two years later Salam

wrote the introduction to my book "Islam and Science - Religious Orthodoxy

and the Battle for Rationality". In his essay he makes perfectly explicit

that the validity of a scientific truth can be adjudicated only according

to criteria internal to science and not by appeal to religious,

metaphysical, or aesthetic considerations. I am happy that my book

provided Salam a vehicle to clearly articulate his views because much

confusion existed about where he stood on the issue of religion and

science.


The previous speaker detailed some of the ways in which Salam used

his talent, time, prestige, and power, to raise the level of scientific

development in Pakistan. As the scientific adviser to the President of

Pakistan, Salam was responsible for laying the groundwork for the Pakistan

Atomic Energy Commission, initiating research on problems of waterlogging

and salinity, and agricultural research. He was the role model for many of

those who opted for careers in science. To all this I may add that his

personal generousity was simply extraordinary. He supported poor students

in various cities of Pakistan and bought scientific equipment for schools

and colleges with his personal funds. He laid aside part of his Nobel

Prize money for a yearly prize to be awarded to the best researcher in a

scientific field. And, I am witness to the pile of letters on his desk,

received from students and admirers. Since time is the most precious and

scarce resource for a busy and productive person, it always amazed me that

Salam would reply to almost all of them.


So, you might expect that Salam would be a hero in Pakistan. Not

so!


Right here we have the biggest, by far, theoretical physics

institution in the world, now named after Salam. But, in the country of

his birth and citizenship, no scientific or other institution, building,

or even a street, bears his name. School textbooks do not mention him, nor

are children told about him by their teachers. Fake heroes are spattered

all over the place but Salam is never to be found. Reflecting the disdain

felt by much of Pakistani academia, a former vice-chancellor of my

university scornfully asked in a meeting, "Who is Salam? What has he done

for Pakistan?".


It is a fact that Salam had easy access to most world leaders, UN

high officials, the Pope, and others. but found it very difficult to be

heard by the leaders of his own country. In 1988 I was in Prof. Salam's

hotel room in Islamabad where he had been patiently waiting for 2 days to

meet with Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto. I took advantage of this to

discuss his participation in a TV programme on educational problems that I

was preparing. It was not right, I thought to myself, for a person of his

stature and ill-health to be kept waiting in this manner. Suddenly the

phone rang and Salam's face momentarily lit up. Then I saw his face fall

as BB's secretary told him that meeting had been called off. No reason was

given. Yes, I am glad that Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif was gracious enough

to send a message of congratulation today at this meeting. We must always

be grateful for small mercies. But how much did that cost? I can recall

that, about 5 years ago, while addressing a convocation at Government

College Lahore, Mr. Sharif named all the illustrious alumni of the College

but did not consider Salam worthy of mention!


It is remarkable that, about a decade ago, Professor Salam wanted

to be in the run for the position of Director General of UNESCO but

Pakistan refused to endorse his candidature. This was in spite of the fact

that several developing countries, particularly Jordan and Kuwait, had

pledged to fully support him. Since Salam had never given up his Pakistani

nationality, the lack of endorsement by his home country killed his

candidature.


Apart from being ignored and denied by officialdom, Salam was the

also the target of bitter attack and vilification as well. Right wing

magazines concocted wild conspiracies of nuclear espionage, claiming that

he had sold nuclear secrets to India. Fundamentalist student groups made

it impossible, or very difficult, for Salam to visit any university

campus. I am ashamed to say that Salam could never set foot in my

university in Islamabad, whose physics department had been inspired in

considerable part by him, and which was the only department in the country

where his lectures could be possibly understood.


So much for Pakistan. And what of the Muslim countries who Salam

endlessly cajoled, persuaded, and repeatedly visited for over 3 decades in

the hope of prodding them along the road to scientific progress? He had

many ideas and, in particular, a grand scheme to bring science to these

countries by putting together an Islamic Science Foundation, with an

initial endowment of $1 billion, pooled together by a consortium of

Islamic countries. It fell flat on its face after Saudi Arabia pulled out

and Salam, together with his coreligionists, was banned from ever setting

foot on Saudi soil. Salam never complained about this or other matters

publicly, but privately he would express distress and disappointment that

only 2 countries, namely Kuwait and Iran, seemed to be at all interested

in putting money into science.


I am sure that many people in this audience must be very confused

about what brought about this situation. Allow me to explain.


Before 1974, Salam was legally a Muslim in Pakistan, but

subsequently he became a non-Muslim in a state where non-Muslims are, by

law, second class citizens. Subsequent to his ex-communication by an act

of the Pakistani national parliament, and of his Ahmadiyya sect, Salam

resigned as Adviser to the President. Although he maintained informal

contacts with the government, scientific institutions, and individuals, in

effect he ceased to exercise significant authority.


Salam never accepted this excommunication. It clearly drove him

into becoming more religious. Regrettably so, in the opinion of some, but

that is not for me to comment upon. Subsequently (I think), he developed

an intense pride in his heritage and did what no one else -- Muslim or

other -- had done. From dry and dusty history books he rescued the

scientific and intellectual achievements of Muslim intellectual giants of

a thousand years ago and turned them into symbols of cultural pride. The

crucially important thing is that he emphasized these achievements as

belonging to the realm of the rational. For example, it is from one of

Salam's essays that I first learned of the 12th century Arab scholar,

Ibn-al-Haytham, long forgotten by all except professional historians, who

had anticipated Fermats principle of least action applied to light.

Similarly, Salam's lecture, delivered in Stockholm at the Nobel Prize

ceremony, begins with the travels of Michael the Scot who travelled to

Toledo in Muslim Spain, searching for learning and knowledge, all of which

were then concentrated in the lands of Islam. Salam's purpose was to

rekindle a sense of pride and hope amongst those who had long lost both.

He did succeed, but the victory was partial and temporary. No mortal can

fight the forces of history, especially when they are oriented towards the

past rather than the future.


To my mind, Salam was the mythical Sisyphus in human form.

Condemned by Pluto to forever push a large rock up Mount Olympus, each

time Sisyphus would labour his way to the top, the rock would roll all the

way down and he would have to begin once again. Until his long and tragic

illness left him incapacitated, Salam too was condemned into perpetually

and painfully pushing his schemes for scientific development up the

unyielding mountain of religious prejudice. The brutal fact is that Salam

was squarely defeated in the end by the very side whose cause he so

vigorously championed.


The excommunication of 1974 merits further mention. Certainly, the

doctrinal differences between Ahmadiyyas and mainstream Muslims are not of

the slightest concern to us here -- they are as arcane and impossible to

resolve as the differences between, say, Catholics or Protestants or

Anabaptists or Calvinists. It is usual, as in the Middle Ages of Europe,

for theological disputes to be resolved by the use of force with the

weaker side being exterminated or terrorized into fleeing. Historically,

this is the legacy that every religion has left to mankind. To prevent the

majority from slaughtering the minority was precisely the historical

reason for the emergence of secularism in Europe. Tragically the Pakistani

state moved the other way and became party to a theological dispute which

had simmered for many years. As it turned out, 1974 was the first step

down the steep slippery slope, the bottom of which is not yet in sight.

More and more sects and communities are facing the threat of persecution

and possible excommunication as the fires of religious extremism burn ever

higher. To be quite honest, on the balance sheet of history, what happens

to a particular individual is of scarce import. Therefore what really

matters is not Pakistan's treatment of Salam, or even the persecution of

this or that community, but the fate of Pakistani society at large.


Let me now conclude. With characteristic generousity of spirit,

Salam chose to forgive and forget. He could easily have become very bitter

but remarkably he chose not to go that way. Let us acknowledge and respect

this. While Salam was never a cultural libertarian, he did believe that

only liberal, tolerant, and pluralistic societies can advance

scientifically and culturally. Therefore the best tribute to him would be

for each of us, in our own way, to work towards building a global society

which offers equal opportunity to all inhabitants of our planet,

encourages diversity and creativity, and allows religious beliefs to be

pursued without fear.