Is the Qur’an Historical, Is Capitalism Universal?

The creation of the economy is, in fact, the economy of Creation. “We were turned away from Paradise,” “we possess neither immortality nor infinite sources of satisfaction”; instead, a life full of scarcity was given to us—one in which choosing one good thing deprives us of another. The somberness of economics stems from its being a science concerned with the human condition after Adam and Eve were expelled from Paradise. And the Economic Adam who claims the first page of (almost all) textbooks titled Principles of Economics is, of course, Adam Smith.

(Marshall Sahlins, Waiting for Foucault, “We All Fell into Sin with Adam’s (Adam Smith’s) Fall,” p. 28)

The question we have taken as our title—“Is the Qur’an historical, is capitalism universal?”—has, for both the modern world and for much of the Muslim consciousness entangled within it, ceased to be a matter to be questioned or confronted. It has become a kind of creed, the questioning of which is no longer even proposed. The world today has reached a state in which it cannot even ask such a question. And yet, given the current state of affairs, this may be one of the most urgent questions we must ask, interrogate, and confront.

To confine the divine to history/context and to elevate the worldly to the level of transcendence is perhaps the most blatant sign of modernity’s—and the social sciences’—ontological distortion, epistemological contradiction, and ethical hypocrisy, if not outright shamelessness. The modern world produces a contradiction: the divine is historicized, the human is deified. By emphasizing the historical nature of the Qur’an, its universal message is rendered invisible; and by concealing the historical nature of capitalism, it is presented as a universal model or structure. This is a dualism that affects not only epistemology but also ethics—and indeed, our very conception of truth.

But something even more grave has already occurred: today’s Muslim consciousness—if not in creed (de jure), then in practice (de facto)—has begun to act upon this very contradiction. The Western-centered world proceeds along this path, and Muslims, rather than remaining independent from the West, choose instead to be subject to it. Is not the shrinking list of things money cannot buy—or the growing list of things it can—a de facto admission that the Qur’an is historical and capitalism is universal? Today, the decrease in things money cannot buy is the clearest indication that capitalist ideology has permeated cultural fabrics. In truth, this situation points to a much deeper issue: capitalism’s claim to universality is, in essence, an attempt to usurp the role of the divine.

In Türkiye, the historicity of the Qur’an has been discussed and debated—primarily within theological circles, but also across various platforms and contexts—and a substantial body of literature has emerged on the subject. Even the most marginal theses have been freely expressed; things once considered unspeakable or unwritable have been said and written. But what about the historicity of capitalism—or of liberal and neo-liberal theses? Has this topic ever been discussed, even to a degree comparable to that of the historicity of the Qur’an? If you wish, examine the relevant literature. Look into the works dealing with the historicity of the Qur’an, then compare them with the literature on the historicity of capitalism. The disparity you will observe is immense. (Tahsin Görgün’s Tarihselcilik [Historicism] is one of the rare works that recognizes this imbalance.) Has the historicity of capitalism ever been discussed in faculties of economics to the extent that the historicity of the Qur’an has been debated in faculties of theology? Or is there indeed a vast gap between the two? Of course, it is quite easy to debate the historicity of the Qur’an—after all, there is no global hegemony behind it. But to question the historicity of capitalism (even if it is an exception in human history) means to confront an entire global system. Surely, courage cannot consist of attacking the defenseless.

The secular world and scientific literature tend to universalize every concept, theory, or phenomenon that belongs to them, while historicizing every concept, theory, or phenomenon that is contrary to or in opposition to them. Has it ever been seriously debated that the liberal/capitalist worldview is, in fact, an ideology—an ideology constructed during a particular historical moment, by particular actors, through provocation and pressure—and that it was proclaimed as a model as a result of a historical rupture, which Karl Polanyi referred to as The Great Transformation? How is it that modernity, while historicizing everything that stands against it, has managed to universalize itself? And more importantly, why has no objection been raised at precisely this point?

It becomes evident that the issue of the historicity of the Qur’an is not truly about understanding its historical context or discovering traces of its authentic meaning. Rather, it appears to be nothing more than a component of modernity’s strategy to legitimize its own universality by historicizing everything outside itself. From the very beginning, what minds predisposed to modernity and committed to postcolonial agendas have done around the question of the Qur’an’s historicity was, in fact, to consolidate modernity’s claim to universality.

The concepts of historicity and universality are key terms in the literature of the social sciences, particularly in the context of understanding contemporary issues. Historicity expresses that a thought, institution, practice, or text emerges and is understood within a particular historical context, era, society, and set of conditions. In this sense, it denotes that the subject under consideration is relative to its historical context and derives its meaning within the circumstances of its time. Historicity, by centering temporal mutability and the determining role of social and cultural conditions in producing meaning, implies that a phenomenon, value, or principle is neither absolute nor necessary. Universality, on the other hand, refers to values, norms, or structures that are assumed to be valid at all times, in all places, and across all societies—transcending historical and cultural contexts.

From this vantage point, the universal messages of the Qur’an can be comprehended by taking into account its historical context and conditions. That is to say, the Qur’an is a historical address with a universal message. Capitalism, on the other hand, is a formation that lays claim to universality but is, in fact, entirely relative to its own historical and contextual conditions.

From Adam Smith’s “invisible hand” to the current global market order, capitalism has consistently been presented through a discourse of universality. However, thinkers such as Karl Polanyi (The Great Transformation), Immanuel Wallerstein (Historical Capitalism, Does Capitalism Have a Future?), and Samir Amin (Eurocentrism: A Critique of an Ideology, The Liberal Virus, Permanent War and the Americanization of the World) have clearly demonstrated that capitalism emerged historically under specific and contingent conditions in Western Europe, and that its expansion on a global scale occurred through violence, colonization, and ideological domination. Nevertheless, capitalism continues to be portrayed as a “law of nature,” and economic rationality is reduced to a principle of necessity that is presumed to override all cultural differences. While the invisible God of theology is subject to interrogation, Adam Smith’s invisible hand remains untouched and unquestioned. The invisible God and the divine book He sent are labeled as myths, whereas the invisible hand said to spontaneously regulate markets is accepted as scientific fact.

When certain principles from the Qur’an are recalled within the framework of contemporary economics, the first reaction is typically: “But the economic conditions during the time of the Qur’an were different.” When Muslims are reminded of such principles, the response usually oscillates between “that was then” and “this is now.” Statements such as “If we act according to the Qur’an, we cannot survive in the current market; if we pay our workers their rightful wages, we cannot grow; if we give our infāq, ṣadaqah, and zakāt, we cannot maximize marginal utility” are not merely practical complaints. Rather, they are confessions that the concepts of market, growth, and marginal utility have now become articles of faith, while the Qur’an itself has been reduced to a relic of history.

Such statements are not merely pragmatic objections—they also serve as open confessions of a theological transformation that has taken root in the contemporary Muslim mind. The universality of revelation is suspended under the pretext that the economic conditions of the Qur’an’s era no longer apply; and values such as infāq, zakāt, and ṣadaqah have been relegated to the realm of “emotional and nostalgic” symbolism. In this context, modern economics is not simply a science—it has become a creed. The market is no longer an invisible hand; it has become an invisible deity. Marginal utility now functions as the secular mind’s measure of taqwā. Growth has become a salvation deferred to an indefinite Day of Judgment. Within this new order of belief, the Qur’an has been effectively reduced to an “archaic object of history.”

The process of legitimizing capitalism, which began with Max Weber’s The Protestant Ethic, has now become valid and operative within the Muslim mind as well. Economic success has come to be perceived as a sign of taqwā. A good Muslim is no longer defined as one who earns ḥalāl income, but rather as one who earns abundantly. Wealth is no longer seen as a blessing from Allah, but as evidence of business intelligence, skill, talent, and hard work. Sharing is no longer considered a virtue; to accumulate and grow wealth has become synonymous with virtue itself. Yet the Qur’an continues to remind us in the face of this newly emerged morality: “In their wealth there is a rightful share for the needy” (Adh-Dhāriyāt 51:19). This verse, in the hands of Muslim economists, has been reduced to a romantic utterance, and in the hands of Muslim businessmen, to a matter of cost analysis. What was once a right (ḥaqq) has now been reframed as charity. Giving what is due was once an obligation; now, charity is merely a “favor.”

The Qur’an is neither a historical document nor an abstract ethical text. It proposes a comprehensive order of life that encompasses economic, social, and political domains. Yet today, the Muslim mind has abandoned this holistic order and instead embraced the new creed of modern economics: “The market is infallible. Growth is essential. Marginal utility is supreme.” However, this new creed isolates the human being, commodifies justice, and relegates the Qur’an to a time “long gone.” What is needed now is to build an entirely new economy. But a new economy requires a new tawḥīd. And a new tawḥīd must cultivate a mindset that sees zakāt not as a burden but as a right, infāq not as a loss but as mercy, and justice not as a utopia but as the very negation of oppression.

Fortunately, though in a very limited scope, the universality claim of capitalism has begun to be questioned, particularly by postcolonial thinkers. In this regard, for example, Dipesh Chakrabarty critically examines capitalism’s universality and the historical and epistemological assumptions that underpin it in his work Provincializing Europe. Chakrabarty argues that Eurocentric historiography and the narrative of modernity present capitalism as a transcendent and universal structure. However, this portrayal actively suppresses historical differences, cultural particularities, and colonial violence. According to Chakrabarty, although capitalism emerged within a specific historical context in the West, European thought has universalized itself by subordinating all other histories to its own trajectory of development. As one of modern thought’s most deeply entrenched narratives, capitalism has frequently been portrayed as a universal, inevitable, and natural outcome of progress. Within this narrative, the histories of non-Western societies are described in terms of “delay,” “deficiency,” and “inadequacy,” while Europe is elevated as the normative model of universal history. “…history will continue to be understood as a waiting room that the transition to capitalism has made necessary everywhere and at all times” (p. 118). Chakrabarty’s Provincializing Europe thus stands out as a postcolonial intervention that radically critiques and disrupts this dominant narrative.

Chakrabarty argues that capitalism and modernity are not universal; rather, they naturalize themselves by suppressing historicity and cultural context. As he states, “no form of historical capital can be universal, even if it has global access” (Provincializing Europe, p. 125). Moreover, “Capital is a philosophical-historical category; historical difference is not external to capital but its constitutive element. … The universal is an empty position whose slippery framework becomes roughly visible only when it is usurped by a demanding and dominant gesture of a proxy or particular” (p. 125). “The globalization of capital is not the same as the universalization of capital” (p. 126).

Chakrabarty’s central argument is that Europe has presented its own historical experience as the normative historical trajectory of all humanity. In this model, history advances through fixed stages—Renaissance, Reformation, Enlightenment, and the Industrial Revolution—culminating in the modern state and capitalist mode of production. All historical experiences outside this trajectory are framed as “not yet arrived,” or as instances of backwardness. Chakrabarty calls this approach the metaphysics of universality, and the foundational element of this metaphysical structure is capitalism. In this respect, capitalism is not merely an economic system but also a regime of time and history. Within the Eurocentric narrative, capitalism is presented as a necessary stage that every society must inevitably pass through—the teleological summit of history. However, according to Chakrabarty, this understanding erases the autonomy, difference, and significance of other historical experiences.

1. Wright Mills, in his seminal work The Sociological Imagination, emphasizes that the social sciences are as moral and intellectual as they are “scientific.” In order to evaluate the problems and methodologies of various social science schools, one must also adopt a political stance. “…because being able to articulate a problem requires knowing whose problem it is” (The Sociological Imagination, p. 105). Whose problem is the historicity of the Qur’an? Whose problem is the universality of capitalism? The etymological connection between mevzu (subject) and mevzi (position) underscores the deep link between what is being discussed and the standpoint from which it is being spoken.

“Everyone who devotes their life to studying society and publishing their findings, whether they intend to or not, whether they are aware of it or not, is also engaging in both a moral and, to a large extent, a political act. The real question is whether they consciously make their own decisions by confronting this reality, or whether they drift along morally by hiding this reality from themselves and others. Today, most sociologists in America—perhaps nearly all—inevitably adopt a liberal political stance. They go along with the prevailing fear of any sort of passionate commitment. What some people who object to ‘value judgments’ actually demand is not scientific objectivity, but exactly this” (p. 109).

Accordingly, what the thesis of capitalism’s universality seeks under the guise of scientific objectivity is nothing other than an attempt to liberate capitalism—as a historical category—from any contentious or debatable ground.

The debate on the historicity of the Qur’an is not merely a matter of textual interpretation; it is also a reading of the relationships between authority, history, divine address, and social power from a particular position. When this issue is presented solely as a matter of tafsir (interpretation), the mevzi (positionality) of those engaging in the debate is often disregarded. Yet this is precisely what Mills warns us not to overlook. The articulation of a problem depends on whose problem it is—namely, the position from which it is posed. In this context, the debate on the historicity of the Qur’an can also be interpreted as an attempt by Islamic societies confronting modernization to construct their own epistemic subjectivity. Approaches that either affirm or reject the historicity of the Qur’an involve not only interpretive choices regarding the text but also political and moral judgments about modernity, authority, and social transformation. These judgments are shaped by the way the researcher constructs their own “sociological imagination.”

Mills’ call for a “sociological imagination” compels the researcher to see themselves not merely as an observer, but as a subject who must account for their own moral and political position. Issues such as the historicity of the Qur’an or the universality of capitalism are direct examples of such reckonings. Questions like: for whom is this an issue, for whom is it a solution; on whose behalf, for whose sake is it being discussed; and where does the speaker stand—all these must be placed at the center of every scientific inquiry. Scientific objectivity is not absence of position; it is awareness of position. Therefore, now more than ever, we need a conception of social science that is unafraid of “passionate commitment,” that speaks truth from a position, and that takes on intellectual, moral, and political responsibility.

The idea of capitalism’s universality is a foundational pillar of the modern worldview. However, as Dipesh Chakrabarty argues, to “provincialize Europe”—that is, to question West-centric claims of universality—reveals that capitalism is not merely an economic system, but one that is historically and culturally situated. Whose history is capitalism’s universality? For whom is it a universal solution, and for whom a crisis? To analyze capitalism within the framework Mills proposes is not merely to take an economic stance, but also a political and moral one. Presenting capitalism not as a “natural” state but as the result of specific social relations is directly tied to the clarity of the researcher’s position. Any analysis that accepts capitalism as a universal model—whether unconsciously or willfully—reproduces a specific ideological framework. In such a case, the researching subject either acknowledges this fact and takes responsibility for it, or conceals it under the guise of “scientific objectivity,” thereby assuming a politically passive position.

The Qur’an is a historical address; but its message is universal. Capitalism is not a universal law; it is the product of a particular historical, cultural, and ideological context. It is not even the natural outcome of history. On the contrary, it is an economic model that was provoked into being, imposed through coercion, and established through domination. The epistemic contradiction of modernity lies in the reversal of these two: presenting capitalism as universal and the Qur’an as merely historical. This contradiction is not only an academic issue; it is also a critical site of crisis that shapes the ontological stance of Muslims, their forms of worship, their relationship with labor and time, and the balance between the sacred and the worldly. Therefore, if the question “Is the Qur’an historical, is capitalism universal?” can no longer be posed, this signifies not merely intellectual cowardice or brazenness, but also the denial of the sacred, moral apathy, and the realization of epistemological domination.

Capitalism is a historical phenomenon born of modernity; it emerged within a specific time and space and continues to develop and transform. It originated in Europe in the 16th and 17th centuries, with capital accumulation, colonialism, and the transformation of trade, and later gained strength through the Enlightenment’s myth of progress. As Karl Polanyi emphasized in The Great Transformation, capitalism is not natural—it is the invention of the idea of a “market society.” In other words, human history did not begin with capitalism; capitalism emerged as a kind of historical deviation. The Qur’an, however, is a universal address—a call that transcends time; it speaks within history as much as it points beyond it. Capitalism is a socio-economic regime born of and shaped by a particular period, culture, and history. Moreover, as Georges Bataille aptly puts it, it is the “accursed share” of capital. Its claim to universality was constructed precisely to mask its historicity. The Qur’an, on the other hand, is a call that speaks truth from beyond time—its universality is grounded ontologically, epistemologically, and morally.

Modern thought conceived of time as linear, of progress as inevitable destiny, and of humans as subjects who make history. Capitalism became the economic regime of this conception, while modernization became its sociological cloak. Yet every historical phenomenon has its own context, limits, and continuity. Capitalism is a historical condition; to present it as universal is to fall into an ideological illusion. The Qur’an, by contrast, is not merely a text revealed at a specific historical moment—it is a universal discourse addressed to all humanity. It speaks in the name of “humanity”; it is the bearer of a timeless address, a message that transcends all time.