Reading The Incoherence of the Incoherence feels rather like revisiting the recent lyrical exchanges between two of contemporary music’s most influential artists, transposed onto the grand stage of medieval philosophy. Imagine a confrontation where one thinker commands a lifetime of intellectual discipline and stylistic mastery, while the other offers a series of confident but ultimately fragile rebuttals.
In this analogy, Averroës emerges as the philosopher’s equivalent of a formidable lyricist—precise, unflinching, and unwilling to permit shallow thinking to pass unchallenged. Like a modern artist whose verses are dense with references, historical allusions, and critiques of his own art form, Averroës approaches Al-Ghazali’s arguments with a conviction that truth must be defended with both rigor and elegance. One can almost hear the echo of a contemporary line—“You’re trying to strike a chord, but it’s A minor”—as Averroës dissects his opponent’s reasoning with relentless composure.
Al-Ghazali, by contrast, appears as a figure whose critique of philosophy is persuasive to a wide audience but prone to relying on rhetorical flourish over substantive depth. His Incoherence of the Philosophers often seems, in Averroës’ estimation, less the product of sustained inquiry and more an attempt to pacify the masses by casting suspicion on the possibility of demonstrable knowledge. Averroës responds with an unmistakable blend of disappointment and intellectual severity, remarking:
“Anyone who denies demonstration altogether should not be argued with using demonstration.”
This is, effectively, the 12th-century equivalent of declaring that an opponent has no grasp of the fundamental keys of the art form they seek to critique.
As one moves through Averroës’ carefully constructed arguments, it becomes evident that he is not content merely to expose inconsistencies. His purpose is to affirm that philosophical reasoning is essential—a discipline demanding the same attention to craft that distinguishes the truly great from the merely popular. He notes with almost clinical precision:
“He who denies these things is either accusing the philosophers of ignorance… or accusing them of deliberate error.”
Here, Averroës suggests that Al-Ghazali’s position amounts either to a profound misunderstanding or to a knowing refusal to engage the discipline on its own terms—an accusation as severe in the realm of philosophy as any direct challenge in a public rivalry.
This work offers a compelling reminder that intellectual debate has always contained elements of performance, pride, and rivalry. Yet where modern public conflicts often reduce themselves to spectacle, Averroës insists upon a standard of disciplined inquiry that feels almost rare by today’s standards.
One can imagine that if Averroës were transported into our own time, he would recognize something familiar in the devotion to precision and layered meaning that defines the most exacting lyricists—and something equally familiar in the broad appeal coupled with a certain evasiveness when pressed to defend one’s ideas.
The Incoherence of the Incoherence demonstrates that disagreement can be an act of fidelity to truth rather than merely a pursuit of triumph. It remains a testament to the idea that mastery—whether of philosophy or of art—requires not only talent but the courage to hold one’s adversaries to the highest standards..