Iqbal turns from historical genealogy to contemporary application, examining how Turkey's Nationalist Party has advanced ijtihād under the banner of Church–State separation. He concedes that Islam permits such a separation but rejects the metaphysical dualism behind it: in Islam the spiritual and the temporal are not two domains but a single unanalysable reality seen from different perspectives, and the state is an endeavour to transform ideal principles into space-time forces.
Section 3 traced the genealogy of ijtihād from Ibn Taymiyyah through the Wahhābī movement and delivered the critical distinction between formal and substantive ijtihād — the Wahhābī movement asserted the right of independent judgement but exercised it without genuine critical depth, falling back on an uncritical reading of ḥadīth. Section 4 now shifts the argument from historical genealogy to contemporary application: the case of Turkey, where ijtihād has been 'reinforced and broadened by modern philosophical ideas' and is actively reshaping religio-political thought. Iqbal turns from what ijtihād was to what it looks like when exercised in a modern nation-state.
The section advances through three connected movements. First, Iqbal frames the Turkish case as exemplary for the broader Muslim world — 'if the renaissance of Islam is a fact, and I believe it is a fact, we too one day, like the Turks, will have to re-evaluate our intellectual inheritance.' He introduces Ḥalim Sābit's sociological theory of Muḥammadan law as evidence that the Turkish engagement with ijtihād is intellectually serious, not merely political. Second, he presents the position of the Turkish Nationalist Party, which subordinates religion to the state and advocates the separation of Church and State — a position Iqbal concedes the structure of Islam 'does permit' but which he considers a mistake grounded in a false metaphysical bifurcation. Third, and most substantially, Iqbal develops his own counter-position: that in Islam, the spiritual and the temporal are not two distinct domains but a 'single unanalysable reality' that appears as Church or State depending on one's point of view. Matter is 'spirit in space-time reference'; the secular is sacred 'in the roots of its being'; the state, from the Islamic standpoint, is 'an endeavour to transform ideal principles into space-time forces.'
This third movement is the philosophical heart of the section and one of the most important passages in the entire Reconstruction. Iqbal is not merely disagreeing with the Turkish secularists; he is offering a metaphysical alternative to the entire Western framework of Church/State separation — an alternative grounded in Tawḥīd understood not as a theological proposition but as an ontological principle. The 'bifurcation of the unity of man into two distinct and separate realities' that produces the Church/State distinction is, for Iqbal, the same bifurcation that Whitehead criticised as the 'bifurcation of nature' and that Bergson challenged through his critique of spatial intellect. The Islamic alternative is not theocracy in the vulgar sense (a state ruled by clerics claiming divine authority) but theocracy in Iqbal's reconstructed sense: any state that aims at 'the realization of ideal principles' rather than 'mere domination.'
The section also contains Iqbal's most explicit guidance for Pakistan's own future intellectual reckoning — the acknowledgement that 'we too one day' will face the same questions Turkey is facing, and the striking suggestion that even if the subcontinent's Muslims 'cannot make any original contribution to the general thought of Islam,' they may serve as a 'healthy conservative criticism' checking the 'rapid movement of liberalism.' This is Iqbal at his most strategically nuanced: he is neither endorsing the Turkish path wholesale nor rejecting it, but positioning the broader Muslim world as an interlocutor — critically engaged, intellectually honest, and willing to learn from Turkey's experiment without simply imitating it.