Heisenberg is among my favorite physicists. The blow he struck to determinism didn’t just alter the course of science, but of the entire world of thought. In this sense, his contribution to philosophy may exceed that of most philosophers.
I’m one of those who believes that the laws of nature also apply in the social sciences—or at least help us better explain certain phenomena like religion, morality, and societal dynamics.
One example that comes to mind is the idea that just as the universe must have a critical expansion speed to avoid collapsing into itself, an economy too must maintain a certain growth rate to sustain itself. Is this an axiom that stands independently of specific economic systems? I believe so—but it’s open to debate.
Let me not stray too far from the topic. When I look further back, to Ibn Arabi, I encounter these words:
"Since truths are infinite in number, they can only be known simultaneously by God. Yet for mankind, only the principles of apparent and hidden truths can be known."
Werner Heisenberg, in a similar spirit of unknowability, formulated a limit—now known by his name—that mathematically expresses this principle.
Let me be clear: I ask not to be lumped together with those who try to link every scientific truth to the Qur’an or hadith. Quite the opposite—I scrutinize religious rules through the lens of scientific method.
In Islam, the gravest sin is associating partners with God (shirk). I’ve never heard anyone claim there are two or three Gods. So why is this considered such a great and common sin? I believe it’s because human beings have a tendency to place themselves in God’s position and pass judgment on His behalf.
I’m not referring to Hallaj al-Mansur, who was flayed alive for saying “Ana al-Haqq” (I am the Truth), nor to Empedocles, who declared himself divine and leapt into the mouth of Mount Etna.
Rather, I’m speaking of those who take it upon themselves to declare what is sin and what is virtue—those who, by doing so, cross the boundaries of the unknowable and issue religious judgments on matters about which they cannot and will never be absolutely certain. That, in itself, risks removing them from the faith.
Once this is acknowledged, the real question becomes: where do we draw the line when making judgments?
How far can we go in declaring, “this is a sin, that is a virtue”?
Until someone appears who claims to fully understand the Qur’an written in 6th-century Arabic?
Or until someone not only understands the literal meanings of the words, but also deciphers the symbolic language?
If we return again to the scientific method: if even a small fraction of shirk is enough to cast one out of the faith, then a believer should take no risks in this regard.
Of course, they will live according to the rules they believe their religion has taught them and practice their faith—but they should never claim to act “in the name of religion” or “on behalf of God.”
As Muhyiddin Ibn Arabi said, “Human beings can only know the principles of apparent and hidden truths—not the truths themselves.