Iqbal frames the entire Reconstruction as a response to a self-generated crisis: the empirical habits Islam itself once fostered have left modern Muslims unable to access religious experience by the inherited routes of medieval Sufism. He proposes a 'scientific form of religious knowledge' that works with the critical intellect rather than against it, and closes by recasting ijtihād as a permanent disposition — the duty to watch the progress of human thought and maintain an independent critical attitude towards it.
The preface compresses into a single dense paragraph the diagnosis that the entire Reconstruction will spend seven lectures answering. The Qur'an, Iqbal opens, is a book that emphasises 'deed' rather than 'idea' — but the organic assimilation of its universe requires a particular kind of inner experience that has become inaccessible to many modern minds. The reason is paradoxical, and Iqbal states it without flinching: it is the very habits of concrete, empirical thought — 'habits which Islam itself fostered at least in the earlier stages of its cultural career' — that have rendered the modern mind both incapable of mystical experience and suspicious of it 'because of its liability to illusion.' Islam, in other words, is partly responsible for the cognitive disposition that has now turned back to question its own foundations. The preface establishes this self-generated crisis as the problem the lectures are written to address.
Iqbal then names what is no longer adequate. The 'more genuine schools of Sufism' once shaped the evolution of religious experience in Islam, but their latter-day representatives — the inherited ṭarīqa orders, with their fasting, sleeplessness, and ascetic dhikr — have become 'absolutely incapable of receiving any fresh inspiration from modern thought and experience,' perpetuating methods 'created for generations possessing a cultural outlook differing, in important respects, from our own.' What is required, Iqbal says, is a route to the same experience pursued by a method 'physiologically less violent and psychologically more suitable to a concrete type of mind' — a path to religious knowledge that works with the critical intellect rather than against it. Iqbal signals the philosophical character of this new method in passing, by invoking the Qur'anic verse on the biological unity of mankind (Sūrah Luqmān 31:28) as already containing the structure of insight that modern biology and Bergsonian philosophy would later articulate. The seven lectures, undertaken at the invitation of the Madras Muslim Association and delivered between 1928 and 1929, are Iqbal's attempt to construct that method in concrete intellectual form.
The preface closes by naming why the present moment is favourable. Classical physics — Newtonian, mechanistic, deterministic — had for two centuries underwritten a confident materialism that seemed to leave no room for religious metaphysics. But by 1928 that materialism was rapidly disappearing under the pressure of relativity and quantum mechanics; physics, as Iqbal puts it, had 'learned to criticize its own foundations,' and he saw in this collapse an opening — the day was 'not far off when Religion and Science may discover hitherto unsuspected mutual harmonies.' Yet the final sentence is not a victory lap. Iqbal immediately tempers it with a warning that 'there is no such thing as finality in philosophical thinking,' that knowledge will continue to advance, and that 'our duty is carefully to watch the progress of human thought, and to maintain an independent critical attitude towards it.' This closing line — eight words in the original — is a compressed definition of ijtihād for the modern Muslim, recast as a continuous intellectual posture rather than a juridical procedure.
The preface is therefore not a throat-clearing introduction but the foundational statement of the entire programme. It names the audience the lectures are written for (Muslims whose minds have been shaped by empirical habits and who can no longer reach religious experience by inherited routes), the object the lectures pursue (a 'scientific form of religious knowledge' that meets the standards of the modern intellect without surrendering the depth of the religious), and the disposition the lectures embody (an independent, critical attitude toward all human thought, refusing both defensive rejection and uncritical accommodation). Every lecture that follows is an attempt to discharge one or another part of this opening commitment — and the closing sentence is among the lines most often cited as a compressed kernel of Iqbal's intellectual programme.