Critiquing Ideas, Not Individuals: The Ethics of Criticism and Our Reality
Have we truly learned how to criticise, or have we merely learned how to hurt others?
In our time, disagreement seems to have ceased to be an expression of intellectual diversity and has instead become an easy pretext for personal attacks.
Yet criticism has its own beauty and etiquette. When these are lost, the pursuit of knowledge degenerates into an arena of hostility.
We must all remember that criticism is an art in itself, possessing its own grace and refinement. Identifying errors, too, requires adherence to certain principles. It is perfectly natural for anyone who speaks or writes to make mistakes and have shortcomings to some degree.
Therefore, if we find someone's statements or writings unreasonable, subjecting them to a constructive and logical examination is a legitimate and necessary part of intellectual inquiry.
At the same time, we must recognise that none of our opinions is final, nor is anyone's criticism beyond question. People may have different perspectives and arrive at different understandings. In the realm of ideas, thesis, antithesis, and synthesis are natural and inevitable features of intellectual engagement.
Accordingly, if you disagree with someone's words or writings, or believe them to be mistaken, you are certainly entitled to offer criticism—provided you consider yourself qualified to do so.
But that criticism must be directed at the idea, not the individual. Personal attacks are never a legitimate part of intellectual inquiry; rather, they are a manifestation of moral decline.
The language of criticism should be such that it does not compromise another person's dignity or honour. It should be marked by respect, empathy, and goodwill. Its wording and presentation should reflect calmness, courtesy, and civility, allowing readers or listeners to recognise that behind the criticism lie sound academic understanding and a sincere concern for the welfare of the Ummah.
Criticism devoid of empathy, goodwill, and a genuine desire for reform is, in essence, not constructive criticism. It is either an expression of hostility or an outpouring of envy.
Regrettably, however, we often witness the opposite in our time.
Many people spread hostility in the name of criticism, seizing every opportunity to vent their anger and resentment. Instead of analysing ideas, they attack individuals. Such conduct is unacceptable by the standards of civility, morality, and the Sharī‘ah; it also represents a departure from the way of the Salaf al-Ṣāliḥ—the pious predecessors.
Let us pause and reflect: if our language is so unrestrained and our criticism so full of hostility, what kind of society and generation are we shaping?
If we wish to challenge another person's thinking and open new doors of understanding, hostility will never achieve that purpose. What is needed is empathy, goodwill, and a profound commitment to sincere reform.
Today, we are increasingly normalising hostility through online activism, public speeches, and discussions in the public sphere. If this continues, we may not need much help from external adversaries to obstruct the progress of Islam; we may well become our own greatest obstacle.
May Almighty Allah soften our hearts, broaden our perspectives, and make our words and writings instruments of ḥikmah (wisdom), adab (proper conduct), and the common good. Āmīn.