Churches, mosques and markets have all been targeted during the genocide.

Introduction: Faith Meets Technology

Have you ever found yourself late at night with a question about your faith, scrolling through search results and forum posts, wondering which sources you can actually trust? It’s a modern dilemma in the timeless quest for knowledge.

However, in an age saturated with information, authenticity has become the scarcest commodity. This challenge is particularly acute for Muslims when seeking guidance on matters of belief, practice, and spirituality.

We live in an era where artificial intelligence is reshaping nearly every aspect of human life, from how we work and learn to how we seek meaning. The question isn’t if technology will touch our faith, it’s how. This article explores the intersection of Islamic Ethics and Artificial Intelligence (AI), the current state of innovation in the Muslim world, and finally examines Ansari Chat as a case study in how these ethical principles can be translated into code.

Navigating AI Through the Lens of Islamic Ethics

AI is growing fast, promising incredible benefits but also raising complex ethical questions. For Muslims, this necessitates a careful evaluation of how AI aligns with faith and values.

Islamic scholars and institutions, including the International Islamic Fiqh Academy (IIFA), Al-Azhar’s Islamic Research Academy, and the Muslim World League, are already actively debating these issues. In the West, the Assembly of Muslim Jurists of America (AMJA) has centered its 2026 Imam’s Conference around this very topic. These institutions draw on centuries of Islamic legal reasoning to ensure AI serves the common good (maslaha) while protecting the higher goals of Islamic law (maqasid al-shari‘ah).

To be clear, the goal is not to reject AI, but to provide frameworks that ensure the technology reflects the values of justice, compassion, and accountability. The real challenge is not whether Muslims should use AI, but how to use it responsibly while avoiding harm (darar).

The Current State of Islamic AI Innovation

Before diving into specific ethical frameworks, it is important to recognize that the “Islamic AI” sector is already bustling with innovation. The landscape is rapidly expanding beyond simple chatbots. We are seeing:

• Quranic Verification: Apps like Tarteel are using voice recognition AI to correct recitation in real-time, aiding in memorization (hifz).
• Islamic FinTech: AI-driven robo-advisors are being trained to screen stocks for Shari’ah compliance, automating complex financial rulings.
• Personalized Learning: Education platforms are utilizing large language models (LLMs) to tailor Islamic curricula to the specific level and school of thought (madhab) of the student.

However, this rapid innovation is not without risk. Without ethical guardrails, these tools can inadvertently amplify bias, commodify sacred knowledge, or present hallucinated information as religious fact. This is why a robust ethical framework is not just theoretical—it is an urgent necessity for developers.

Core Islamic Principles for AI

Islamic ethics is not a fixed rulebook; it is a living system that guides moral choices. When applied to the development and use of AI, four key principles stand out:

“The real challenge is not whether Muslims should use AI, but how to use it responsibly while avoiding harm (darar)” [PC: Masjid Pogung Dalangan (unsplash)]

1. Protecting the Higher Goals of Shari‘ah (Maqasid al-Shari‘ah): These include protecting faith (din), life (nafs), intellect (aql), family (nasl), and property (mal). Every AI system should be judged on its impact here. For example, generative AI that produces deepfakes threatens the intellect and social cohesion, whereas AI used in medical diagnosis actively protects life.
2. Justice (‘Adl) and Fairness (Qist): Islam mandates fairness. Training data often reflects historical social inequalities. If an AI used in hiring or credit scoring is trained on biased data, it perpetuates injustice. Technologists have a duty—each according to their capacity—to audit systems and remove these biases.
3. Trustworthiness (Amanah) and Responsibility (Mas‘uliyyah): Humans are entrusted (khalifah) with stewardship of the earth, including technology. Developers must build AI that is safe and transparent. Crucially, responsibility cannot be outsourced to a machine; humans remain accountable for the AI’s effects. This also extends to environmental stewardship, considering the massive energy resources required to power data centers.
4. Striving for Excellence (Ihsan): Ihsan means doing the best one can, as if in God’s presence. In software development, this means going beyond bare functionality to create technology that is beautiful, efficient, and truly beneficial, rather than predatory or addictive.

AI and Religious Rulings (Fatwas)

A critical distinction must be made regarding religious authority. While AI can search the Qur’an and Hadith faster than any human, the IIFA and Al-Azhar agree: AI cannot replace a human jurist (faqih).

Key reasons AI cannot replace human jurists include:

• Understanding the Spirit of the Law (Fiqh): Legal rulings require nuance and moral insight, not just pattern recognition.
• Understanding Real-Life Context (Waqi‘): A ruling must fit the specific situation, culture, and needs of the person asking. 
• Spiritual Insight (Taqwa and Basirah): Fatwas come from a life of faith, study, and devotion. AI has no soul or spiritual consciousness.

AI excels at pattern recognition, but it lacks the soul and consciousness required for moral adjudication. It is a powerful research assistant, not a scholar.

A Simple Ethical Framework for Users

For the everyday Muslim engaging with these tools, the following guide ensures responsible usage:

• Verify and Validate: Treat AI output as a starting point. Always cross-reference with the Qur’an, authenticated Hadith, and qualified scholars.
• Clarify Intention (Niyyah): Use AI for learning and solving problems, never for deception, finding “loopholes,” or generating deepfakes.
• Recognize Limits: AI is a tool, not an authority. It is fallible.
• Promote Good: Use AI to spread beneficial knowledge, while avoiding the spread of unverified information.

Perhaps one simple way to reflect on the use of AI is on the collective good (ummatic welfare). We should ask not only, “What can AI do for me?” but also, “What can AI do for the whole Muslim community?” In his article on Ummatic Soft Power, Ashraf Motiwala emphasizes how the use of AI will influence the future of the ummah: “Ummatic soft power must therefore operate on three fronts: (1) developing substantive Islamic perspectives on AI ethics; (2) influencing global discourse such that these perspectives are seen as viable and attractive; and (3) implementing them in actual technologies, through ummatic research labs, ethical standards, and applied AI platforms.” The consequence of this is that AI should be seen as a means of helping Muslims with the issue of revival, unity, and good governance.

By applying these principles, Muslims can ensure technology becomes a tool for ummatic welfare—helping with revival, unity, and good governance—rather than a source of confusion.

Operationalizing Ethics: The Case of Ansari Chat

How do these high-minded principles look when translated into actual code? One prominent attempt to answer this is Ansari Chat. Led by Dr. M. Waleed Kadous, Ansari serves as a useful case study in how to bridge the gap between Islamic scholarship and Silicon Valley engineering.

The project began in 2023 with a “proactive” philosophy. Rather than waiting for big tech companies to build Islamic tools as an afterthought, the Ansari team asked: What if the community shaped the technology to serve its unique values from the very beginning?

Transparency as Trust (Amanah)

The first ethical decision the project made was regarding trustworthiness (Amanah). In a landscape dominated by proprietary “black box” algorithms, where the decisions made by the developers are hidden, the Ansari team committed to being open source. 

This was a strategic ethical choice. For a tool dealing with sacred knowledge, the community needs to know how the answers are derived. Open source acts as a “public recipe,” allowing scholars and developers to inspect the code, verify the sources, and ensure there are no hidden agendas. This transparency builds a relationship of trust that proprietary models cannot easily match.

The Technical Fight Against Hallucination

“The community response suggests a hunger for tools that respect religious context.” [PC: Zulfugar Karimov (unsplash)]

Applying the principle of accuracy and verification, the evolution of Ansari highlights the technical challenges of “Islamic AI.” Early versions, like many LLMs, were prone to “hallucinations”—sounding confident while being factually incorrect.

To address this, the team shifted from a simple chatbot model to a Retrieval-Augmented Generation (RAG) system. In simple terms, this gives the AI an “open-book test.” Instead of inventing an answer, the AI must first look up relevant facts from a trusted database—including the Qur’an, Hadith collections, and extensive Fiqh encyclopedias—before formulating a response.

This shift drastically reduced inaccuracies. Furthermore, later iterations introduced citations, ensuring that answers include verse numbers and links to original texts. This feature supports the user’s duty to verify and validate, empowering them to check the primary sources rather than blindly trusting the machine.

Impact and Utilization

The community response suggests a hunger for tools that respect religious context. By mid-2025, data showed that users were not just asking for trivia; they were asking about Fiqh (Islamic law) and Deen/Dunya balance. The tool has been accessed in over 20 languages, highlighting the global demand for accessible knowledge.

However, the project explicitly respects the boundaries of authority. It is designed to provide information and context, but stops short of replacing the scholar in complex, personalized rulings, aligning with the consensus of the IIFA and Al-Azhar mentioned earlier.

Conclusion: An Ecosystem of Ethical Innovation

Ansari Chat, as an example, acts as a proof of concept for a broader vision: an ecosystem of Islamic AI. Whether through integrating with educational curricula, supporting local adaptations like Tanyalah Ustaz in Malaysia, or developing tools for academic research, the goal is to plant a “forest” of innovation.

The story of Ansari demonstrates that technology does not have to distance Muslims from tradition. When built with Ihsan (excellence) and Amanah (trust), AI can function as a bridge, making sacred knowledge more accessible and verifiable. It offers a blueprint for the future: a generation of Muslims who are not just consumers of technology, but architects of it, ensuring the digital age is navigated with faith, responsibility, and moral clarity.

 

Related:

– AI And The Dajjal Consciousness: Why We Need To Value Authentic Islamic Knowledge In An Age Of Convincing Deception

– The Promise of SAIF: Towards a Radical Islamic Futurism

The post Faith And Algorithms: From An Ethical Framework For Islamic AI To Practical Application appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

Corporate journalism skewered in Omar El Akkad’s award-winning book on Gaza genocide.

The provincial government of Quebec, led by Premier Francois Legault’s Coalition Avenier Quebec (CAQ), has proposed sweeping new measures that would severely restrict the ability for Muslims to practice their faith in the province.

Bill 9, titled An Act for the reinforcement of laïcité in Quebec, lays out several new measures that aim to prohibit religious practice in the public sphere. While the Act doesn’t single out Islam explicitly, Muslim religious practices are the prime target of this new proposed law.

Among the proposed restrictions in the new law are the banning of public day care workers and even private school workers from wearing religious garments such as the hijab. The secularism law from 2019 had already banned public employees such as teachers, judges and police officers from wearing religious symbols. This law further advances those restrictions. Public institutions would be restricted from offering halal meals exclusively and would be required to offer non-halal options on the menu as well.

Public congregational prayer will also be banned for the first time in Quebec’s history under this new law. Individual prayer or a religious gathering with a permit in a public space would still be allowed. However, permits are said to be handed out on a case-by-case basis if they respect Quebec charter rights, such as the equality of men and women. Depending on how compliance with Quebec’s charter is interpreted, Muslim groups would likely face obstacles in receiving such a permit, considering the separate prayer for men and women in the Islamic tradition. Fines for individuals could go up to $375 and up to $1,125 for groups.

There has been uproar over public prayer in Quebec ever since it became a regular sight in the streets of Montreal over the last two years. These prayers have been happening in the context of weekly pro-Palestine rallies to protest the genocide in Gaza. The rallies usually end with a public prayer for Gaza and garnered headlines when pro-Palestine marchers prayed in front of the Notre-Dame Basilica. There was also backlash when a Muslim group held Eid prayers in a public park last year.

The situation has led the Secularism Minister Jean-François Roberge to declare that the “proliferation of street prayer is a serious and sensitive issue”. Furthermore, Premier Legault stated that “Seeing people praying in the streets, in public parks, is not something we want in Quebec,” and added that he wanted to send a “very clear message to Islamists.”

The most extreme measure proposed by Bill 9, however, is the plan to ban prayer rooms on university and college campuses. In defending his proposal, Minister Roberge explained that “Universities are not temple or church,” and argued that Quebec had “gone too far” in accommodating religious practices.

Prayer rooms on campuses are the centre of religious life for Muslim students across the province. They serve not only as a safe space for daily prayers but also as a hub for social programs like chaplaincy services, mental health counselling, and religious education. New students, especially those from abroad, use the prayer room to congregate and build social bonds that help them navigate the complexities of practicing faith in a secular environment.

Pragmatically, the prayer room also ensures that Muslims students, who are required religiously to pray five times a day, are not forced to pray out in the open. Samy Khelifi, president of Concordia’s Muslim Student Association, which hosts the biggest prayer facility on a Quebec campus, warned of students being pushed to pray in hallways: “People won’t stop praying because there’s not a prayer space. What happens to those 5,000 people if they all go pray out on random corners?”

Bill 9 will be subject to parliamentary commission hearings over the coming months; the government hopes to have it passed by next Spring. The provisions outlined in it are the latest in a long series of attacks, led by the CAQ, on the religious rights and liberties of Muslims in Quebec. Disguised in the name of secularism and presented with nationalistic overtones, the legislation is nothing more than an attempt to score political points by capitalizing on xenophobic sentiments in CAQ’s voter base for the upcoming elections.

 

Related:

– Poem and Reflection on Banning Prayer in Public Places | Ammar AlShukry

– The Duplicity of American Muslim Influencers And The ‘So-called Muslim Ban’

 

The post Quebec Introduces Bill To Ban Prayer Rooms On College Campuses appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

Alone on the farm, Darius must survive hunger, violence, and the quiet ache of abandonment as he clings to hope that his father still lives.

Read Part 1

* * *

The Mayor’s Account

The Mayor lived in a narrow wooden house behind the tax office. Its roof tiles were mottled with moss, and two faded lanterns hung by the door. I knocked and waited. Through the thin walls I heard the clack of an abacus, then footsteps.

He opened the door wearing a simple hemp robe, belted high on his waist. His eyes flicked to the dao on my back, then to the calluses on my hands, then to my face. Something in his expression softened. Perhaps he saw how I had grown.

“Darius Lee,” he said, according me an unusual degree of respect. “Have you harvested already?”

“Yes,” I replied. “And I have come for my father’s salary.”

He hesitated, just for a heartbeat. A man with nothing to hide does not hesitate.

“Salary?” he repeated. “Boy… Darius… the army sends what it can. There are many delays. Your father may have-” He lifted his hand vaguely. “You understand. He might have fallen. Or the messengers may have been robbed. Highway bandits prey on couriers these days. You must consider -”

“I have considered,” I said.

He fell silent. Behind him, in the dim interior, I saw a low table with a tea set arranged neatly on a lacquer tray. Steam curled gently from the spout. The smell of roasted barley drifted through the doorway.

“What I mean,” he continued more firmly, “is that many soldiers’ families never see a coin. There are piles of unclaimed payments at the garrisons. Dead men whose names no one remembers. I am sorry, but it is likely your father is dead.”

I was only a boy. Another child might have been frightened by this commentary, or intimidated into submission. But my father had been a proud man, unafraid of anyone. He had always spoken his mind, could never be bullied, and would never, ever walk away from what was rightfully his, even as he stole from others what was rightfully theirs.

I had learned from my father what it meant to be a man. So I nodded and said, “Of course, if he were dead, I would not expect anything, Mayor. But you know what my father is like. If he is alive, and someone has withheld his pay…” I lifted my gaze to meet his. “He would come for it. And whoever kept it from him would not fare well.”

The Mayor swallowed. His hand twitched once, then settled on the doorframe.

“Well,” he said with a thin smile, “now that you mention it… I do recall something. A delivery arrived last month. A single gold coin, marked for your household. I must have… misplaced the record.”

He stepped away from the doorway with unconvincing haste. I heard drawers sliding open, the rustle of papers, a quiet curse under his breath. Then he returned, holding a coin between two fingers as though it burned him.

“Here.” He dropped it into my palm. “This belongs to you.”

The coin was cool and heavy. I closed my hand around it.

“Thank you, Mayor.”

He gave a stiff nod. “If any further payments arrive, I will notify you at once. Immediately. You have my word.”
I inclined my head politely, though I did not believe him.

As I stepped out into the street, the sunlight glinted off the coin in my fist. I slipped it into the hidden pouch sewn inside my tunic and walked away without looking back.

Down the street, I paused to observe the people entering the temple of the statue. I went to the door and watched. I was fascinated by them. They left food or coins in front of the statue, then sat before it cross-legged, chanting. Their chants were mesmerizing. Part of me wanted to join them. I had money, I could leave a few coins for the statue. I would be part of something bigger than myself.

Just inside the temple gates stood a small stone-lined pool, its surface broken only by the slow glide of bright orange carp beneath broad lotus leaves. Now and then, a ripple spread across the water as one of the fish snapped at a drifting petal, while the lanterns hanging above reflected in wavering, fractured lines. A few children lingered at the edge, tossing crumbs and laughing softly. I wondered at the lives of those fish, living all their lives in that small pool, but then I realized that there was nothing to wonder about, as my life was just the same.

The interior of the temple was peaceful and hushed. It was inviting. I could relax there a bit, and be among other people without conflict or expectations.

But I could not do it. I knew my father was right, that the statue was no more than an inanimate object. If I were to walk up and slap it, it would do nothing. No evil would befall me, no curse would tumble onto my head. Well, the worshipers would hang me from the nearest tree, but that was entirely physical and real.

I sighed. My father considered these people fools. I walked on.

I knew that the God my father had mentioned – Allah – could never be a statue, or my father would not have believed in him. And he must not have a temple, or I would have seen it. So I put the matter aside and turned to things more solid and immediate.

Lady Two

With the profit from the harvest, I bought a cow, whom I named Lady Two. She was large and was white with large brown patches, and was a lot of work.

I was already fatigued to exhaustion most of the time, not to mention distracted by the incessant gnawing of hunger in my belly. Certainly, I had food, but it was mostly a meager diet of rice and vegetables, and it did not sustain me well. Now, on top of my other work, I had to purchase and haul hay for Lady Two to eat, shovel her manure from the barn, and cart it out to the field to be used as fertilizer. I had to brush her coat, let her out to walk – I bought a cowbell to keep track of her – and milk her in the mornings.

Ah, but the milk! The first time I milked Lady Two and drank, I smiled and teared up at the same time, because it tasted so good, and it took me back to my younger years when I used to help my mother milk our cow, Lady, before my father sold her for drinking money.

Within a week of drinking her milk each morning and evening, I began to feel changes I had not expected. The constant trembling in my limbs eased, and the dull ache in my bones softened. I no longer felt as if I might topple over if I worked too long in the sun. My head felt clearer as well; I did not lose myself so easily in hunger and weariness, and I could think, plan, and even hum to myself sometimes as I worked. I slept more deeply too, without waking in the night to the pangs in my stomach.

After two months, the change was even more profound. I was startled to notice that my pants, which had previously come down to my ankles, now only reached midway down my calves, while my shirt was tight across my shoulders. I no longer dragged myself through each day but plowed and sowed the field with newfound strength. I had the energy to train with the dao in the evening. My movements were fast, and the occasional bruises from training faded faster.

I maintained my mother’s grave, just as my father had done. The flowers flourished, and I kept the plot clear of weeds. Often, when my work was done in the evening, I would sit beside her grave and look at the distant mountains, or the stars in the sky. Where was my mother now? I did not remember her well, but I remembered her gentleness, the songs she used to sing, and the small sesame cakes she made every Friday. I would like to be able to say that I missed her, but what I missed was the idea of her. The idea of being loved and cared for. But it seemed very distant now, and did not sadden me.

Far Away

A stray cat came to the house, an orange tabby that I named Far Away. My father had no patience for animals, but he was not here, so I took Far Away in, let him sleep with me on the straw mattress, and gave him a saucer of milk every morning. I found myself talking to him at times, just random things about farming, Five Animals, and memories of my mother. When I talked to Far Away, he winked and purred, and this made me happy, which was a strange sensation that I never truly got used to. I had never had a friend, and didn’t understand what friendship entailed, but it occurred to me that Far Away was my first ever friend.

The Mayor continued to send my monthly coin, to my surprise, yet another confirmation that my father was still alive. I didn’t talk about my father to Far Away nor anyone else. If I did not talk about him, he must stay alive, for the dead must be honored and remembered, but the living can be ignored. It became a superstitious rule that I imposed on myself.

The next crop came in even better, and I sold it for a pretty penny. I saw people whispering as I collected my coins, and noticed more than a few envious and even angry glances. The Mayor, when he handed over my father’s salary, was surprised to see the changes in me. “You are taller than your father,” he said. I had not realized this, and I felt embarrassed. Somehow, it seemed a betrayal of my father that I should surpass him in any way. I knew objectively that I had done more with the farm than he ever had, and this made me feel guilty. I was also ashamed that my mental image of him was growing dim.

I let the field lie fallow through winter, as my father had told me to do. I spent the winter days running through my Five Animals forms, and training with the dao and spear until the ground in front of the house became muddy with my pouring sweat. Far Away watched me, sometimes with interest, other times grooming himself as if all my leaping, striking, and kicking were meaningless. Perhaps it was.

Sent Away

I planted again when spring came. This time, however, at the 100-day mark, the Mayor came to my house in a horse-drawn wagon and informed me that my father had died in the war, and that I would be sent to live with my aunt. I did not truly believe that my father was dead, and knew that I must be here when he returned. Besides, I had been caring for myself for two years.

The Mayor produced the cloth badge that had been sewn onto my father’s uniform, indicating his unit, rank, and duty. It did not bear his name, but the Mayor explained that badges never carried names. I asked about the iron chain my father wore around his neck bearing the symbol of Five Animals style – a dragon clutching a golden ball in one clawed hand and a dao in the other – for my father had worn it every day and night since I had known him. The Mayor replied that no such chain had been sent, and that the sad reality was that bodies on the battlefield were often looted.

Yet I noticed that the Mayor would not look me in the eye. If he was lying about my father’s death, there would be much for him to gain. He could keep my father’s salary for himself. And I suspected that now that my land was producing a healthy cash crop, the Mayor wanted it for himself.

I refused to go, but the Mayor said it was against the law for a 13-year-old to live alone, and that if I did not go willingly, he would send soldiers to take me.

Anger coiled in my belly. I was tired of this man and his deceptions. I remembered how easy it had been to kill the two robbers, and pictured myself doing the same to the Mayor. The image repelled me. I was not a murderer. Besides, I could fight the Mayor, but I could not fight the soldiers who would come if I hurt him. I had no wish to be whipped and sent to prison.

There was nothing I could do. I mentioned the cow I’d purchased, and the Mayor reimbursed me half of what I had paid for her.

I told the Mayor. “If… if a mistake has been made, and my father turns out to be alive, tell him where I went.”

The Mayor nodded but still did not meet my eyes, and I knew he would not do as I asked.

I filled a peanut sack with my meager belongings, strapped the dao to my back, and concealed my purse within my clothing. The spear I took as a walking stick. I put Far Away in another sack and took him with me. Before leaving, I turned to look at my home one last time. It was a sad, pathetic place. The house had chinks in the walls through which the wind entered, and one of the walls of the barn was listing. The parcel was small, and if we had been a full-sized family living here, it would barely have sustained us.

Yet it was the only home I had ever known, and it had provided for me. I walked to the back of the house, stood beside my mother’s grave, and inhaled the cold morning air. I did not speak to her out loud. My chest rose and fell. I would have said a prayer if I knew one, and knew who to direct it to. Who would maintain her grave now? Who would water the flowers, and pluck the weeds? I shook my head helplessly, then turned and left with the Mayor.

I was put on a transport carriage bound for a city three days’ journey away.

Thoughts of my father swam through my head like the carp in the temple pool, circling endlessly. Was he truly dead, or was that a lie? And if he was dead, how had it happened? Had he killed any of the invaders? Where was his body buried? Was his spirit with Mother now? And if so, was he treating her better than in the past? Yet I did not weep for him. Alive or dead, he would not have liked to see me cry.

Loss of a Friend

When Far Away ran away, however, I did weep.

He was constantly unhappy in the sack, yowling and scratching, and the other three passengers on the carriage complained incessantly. The carriage always camped overnight, and when I woke up the second morning and opened the sack to feed Far Away, he was not there. Either he escaped, or someone let him out.

I walked through the woods, calling and calling for him, then finally fell on the ground sobbing. I felt as if my heart was a crop that had died on the vine. For my father I did not cry, but losing Far Away nearly broke me, for he had loved me with nothing but tenderness and gratitude. He was the only friend I’d ever had, and the only truly good and sweet thing in my life. Why had he left me? I was only trying to keep him safe. Why did he have to go?

I remember very little about the rest of the voyage.

The town where my aunt lived was large and bustling. I found myself disoriented by the sounds of carriages rumbling through, hawkers calling out wares, two men brawling in the street, the stink of garbage and sewage, and music drifting through the open doors of a saloon. I had never seen anything like this town, nor imagined so many people so close together.

My sweet mother used to play the flute, and I could hear one now, along with a lute, erhu, cymbals, and drums. They played a slow, sentimental tune that pulled at me. I might have gone in to listen. I was still deeply sad over the death of my father and the disappearance of Far Away, and I even missed Lady Two, and the way she greeted me by nuzzling her head against mine when I entered the barn. A little music would have been a welcome distraction, but as I took a step in that direction, two young ruffians stepped up, blocking my path.

They were thin in the way hungry dogs are thin, all sharp bones and restless movement. Their hair was greasy and tied back with filthy strips of cloth, and their clothes hung in mismatched layers that smelled of sweat and smoke. One had a scar that pulled down the corner of his mouth so that even when he wasn’t smiling, his face looked cruel.

The other had red-rimmed, feverish eyes, and filthy hands with long nails. The two of them reached into their jackets, no doubt ready to draw knives. They stood too close to me, and I could smell the alcohol on their breaths.

The one with the scarred mouth said, “That’s a pricey looking sword on your back.” And the other snarled, “Let us have a look at it.”

* * *

 

Come back next week for Part 3 – The New Town

Reader comments and constructive criticism are important to me, so please comment!

See the Story Index for Wael Abdelgawad’s other stories on this website.

Wael Abdelgawad’s novels – including Pieces of a Dream, The Repeaters and Zaid Karim Private Investigator – are available in ebook and print form on his author page at Amazon.com.

Related:

Zaid Karim, Private Investigator, Part 1 – Temptation

No, My Son | A Short Story

 

The post Far Away [Part 2] – Alone appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

We’ve raised children who know how to take, but have we taught them how to give? This article dives into the Islamic response to a culture of entitlement.

In today’s increasingly individualized society and entitlement-driven culture -shaped heavily by Western ideals of autonomy and self-fulfillment- a worrying trend has emerged: many young people have come to see their parents not as figures of reverence, guidance, and gratitude, but as service providers; even well into adulthood. This shift is particularly visible in children who, while benefitting from years of care and sacrifice, respond with entitlement or neglect. Some even say, “We didn’t ask to be born, it was your choice!” This perspective, although widely normalized in modern Western discourse, is deeply misaligned with the values and principles of Islam.

The Islamic Understanding of Parent-Child Relationships Life as a Divine Trust

Islam offers a profoundly different understanding of the parent-child relationship; one rooted in divine purpose, obedience, and honor. Contrary to the notion that parents choose to bring children into the world, Islam teaches that it is Allah Who creates life and chooses its circumstances. He says in the Qur’an:

“To Allah belongs the dominion of the heavens and the earth. He creates what He wills. He gives to whom He wills female [children], and He gives to whom He wills males.”
[Surah Ash-Shuraa 42;49]

The arrival of a child is not merely a human decision—it is a manifestation of Allah’s Will. The argument “we didn’t ask to be born” overlooks this spiritual truth. Children are not random by-products of human desire but are sacred trusts (amanah) from Allah , and parents are the vessels through which Allah’s Decree is fulfilled.

Obedience to Parents as a Divine Command

In Islam, obedience to parents is not a personal choice—it is a divine commandment. The Qur’an establishes this in clear terms:

“And your Lord has decreed that you not worship except Him, and to parents, [show] excellent treatment. Whether one or both of them reach old age [while] with you, say not to them [even] ‘uff’ and do not repel them but speak to them a noble word.”
[Surah Al-Isra; 17:23]

The prohibition of even uttering “uff”—a mild sign of frustration—shows how seriously Islam regards the dignity of parents. Islam does not tie this obedience to whether parents are perfect, modern, educated, or emotionally ideal. It is a matter of obedience to Allah and a sign of piety.

The Prophet ﷺ also listed disobedience to parents among the gravest major sins, placing it alongside shirk (associating partners with Allah ):


“Shall I not inform you of the biggest of the major sins?” They said, “Yes, O Allah’s Messenger!” He said, “To associate others with Allah and to be undutiful to one’s parents…”
[Bukhari and Muslim]

When Parents Are Imperfect

And what about those who say, “My parents don’t understand me. They’re too harsh. They weren’t perfect.” To such people, Allah presents us with one of the most profound and emotionally rich stories in the Qur’an: the story of Prophet Ibrahim and his father, Azar.

Azar wasn’t just a difficult parent. He was an open enemy of the truth. He built idols with his own hands and forced his son to conform to the same false religion. He didn’t just disagree with Ibrahim’s faith—he threatened him. He rejected his dawah and even said:

“If you do not desist, I will surely stone you. So leave me alone for a prolonged time.” [Surah Maryam; 19:46]

Why is this story in the Qur’an? It’s not just for bedtime storytelling.

Every word in the Qur’an is deliberate. There are no filler verses. So, when Allah preserved this conversation between father and son for over 1,400 years, it’s not for entertainment—it’s for transformation.

Have we taken the time to reflect? His example demonstrates that Islam does not permit disrespect, rebellion, or cruelty toward parents—even when obedience cannot be maintained. In most family situations, parental shortcomings do not resemble Azar’s extremity. The Qur’an instructs believers to continue accompanying their parents with kindness and patience, even amid disagreement, so long as no sin is involved:

“But if they endeavor to make you associate with Me that of which you have no knowledge, do not obey them but accompany them in [this] world with appropriate kindness and follow the way of those who turn back to Me [in repentance]. Then to Me will be your return, and I will inform you about what you used to do.” [Surah Luqman; 31:15]

Within a Muslim family ethics framework, coping with parental conflict involves maintaining adab, engaging in respectful dialogue, practicing sabr, and making duʿāʾ for guidance and reconciliation. 

Proactive Obedience as a Virtue

Moreover, the Prophet ﷺ described the most virtuous child as the one who serves and cares for their parents before being asked.

In one narration, three men were trapped in a cave and sought Allah’s help by mentioning their most sincere deeds. One man said he never fed his own children before feeding his elderly parents, even after a long day of work. His devotion was accepted, and the rock shifted. [Sahih al-Bukhari, no. 3465]. This powerful story illustrates the blessings that come from proactive, sincere obedience and care.

The Impact of Individualism on Parent-Child Relationships

“Many young adults are quick to point out their parents’ flaws but slow to recognize their sacrifices.” [PC: Nadine E (unsplash)]

Unfortunately, the culture of individualism has produced a generation that is often emotionally disconnected from its roots. Modern individualism prioritizes personal autonomy, self-fulfillment, and independence, often framing family obligations as burdens rather than responsibilities. Within this framework, relational sacrifices—especially those made quietly by parents—can become invisible or undervalued. As a result, many young adults are quick to point out their parents’ flaws but slow to recognize their sacrifices. Islam teaches that gratitude to parents is second only to gratitude to Allah :

“And We have enjoined upon man [care] for his parents. His mother carried him, [increasing her] in weakness upon weakness, and his weaning is in two years. Be grateful to Me and to your parents; to Me is the [final] destination.” [Surah Luqman; 31:14]

The entitlement culture has produced children who often consume more than they contribute, and who question the very people who sacrificed the most for them. But Islam calls us back to a sacred standard: a life of duty, compassion, and humility.

Restoring Balance Through Duty, Compassion, and Humility

Islam does not leave the parent-child relationship to culture or personal judgment—it elevates it to the level of ‘ibadah (worship). Obedience to parents is not optional; it is a spiritual duty. But this obedience is not blind servitude—it is a meaningful act that reflects humility before Allah and gratitude toward those through whom He gave us life. Just as prayer and fasting are acts of worship that earn reward, so too is every moment of kindness shown to one’s parents—even in the moments when it feels difficult.

Self-Reflection Questions for Youth

Ask yourself today:
Do I rush to help my parents the way I rush to answer my phone?
Do I speak to them with the same softness I use with strangers?
Do I honour them in private, or only when others are watching?

If we want to restore the balance eroded by individualism, we must revive these teachings—not just in books or lectures, but in our homes, hearts, and everyday behavior. A generation raised with these values will not only honor their parents—they will carry the legacy of Islam with dignity and grace.

And if you’re a young adult reading this—ask yourself: Am I writing a story that Allah will be proud of? Or one I’ll regret on the Day of Judgment? The answer lies not in grand gestures, but in the quiet, consistent choices we make every day.

Practical Ways to Honor Parents

Restoring balance begins with small, consistent actions. Here are a few ways youth can bring these teachings to life:

 – Begin by checking in on your parents daily, not out of obligation but out of love. Ask them about their day, seek their advice, and make them feel seen and valued.

 – Express gratitude openly—a simple “JazakAllahu khayran” or “thank you” softens hearts more than silence.

 – Offer acts of service without waiting to be asked—make them tea, help with chores, drive them to appointments, or assist with technology. These seemingly small gestures are weighty in Allah’s Sight.

 – Pray for them regularly, even when they are not present, for the Prophet ﷺ taught that a child’s dua for their parents continues to benefit them after death.

 – When disagreements arise, choose patience over pride; lower your voice, listen before responding, and remember that respect is a form of ibadah.

 – And finally, educate yourself and your peers—revive conversations in your circles about honoring parents, so that this forgotten sunnah becomes part of our generation’s identity once again.

The Urgency of Acting Now – Healing Families and the Ummah

One day, the voices of our parents will become memories—their footsteps in the hallway will fade, their advice will no longer be heard, and we will wish for just one more chance to serve them. Before that day arrives, let us honor them while they are still within reach. Let every message we send, every errand we run, and every word we speak be a sadaqah in disguise. The world tells us to chase independence; Islam calls us to embrace interdependence—with Allah , with our parents, and with our ummah.

If we, as the youth of today, can realign our hearts with these timeless teachings, we will not only heal our families but also mend the fractures of our ummah—one act of kindness, one softened heart, and one obedient prayer at a time.

 

Related:

– Podcast: The Rights of Parents vs Parental Oppression | Sh Isa Parada

– Family Relationships in Surah Maryam: IOK Ramadan Reflections Series #16

The post Restoring Balance In An Individualized Society: The Islamic Perspective on Parent-Child Relationships appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

Maha Hussaini says “every day felt like my last” as she documented atrocities in Gaza. UK arrests people for saying “Globalize the Intifada” and a resistance commander is assassinated.

Despite the October ceasefire, thousands could develop conditions affecting their vision.

Despite fresh attempts to make women cover up, many believe the regime wouldn’t risk mass arrests for fear of sparking a wave of popular unrest last seen after the killing of Mahsa Amini

On the streets of Iran’s capital, Tehran, young women are increasingly flouting the compulsory hijab laws, posting videos online that show them walking the streets unveiled. Their defiance comes more than three years after the killing of Mahsa Amini, a 22-year-old Kurdish woman taken into custody by the “morality police” for allegedly breaching the dress code rules. Her death led to the largest wave of popular unrest for years in Iran and a crackdown by security services in response, with hundreds of protesters killed and thousands injured.

Under Iran’s “hijab and chastity” law, which came into force in 2024, women caught “promoting nudity, indecency, unveiling or improper dressing” face severe penalties, including fines of up to £12,500, flogging and prison sentences ranging from five to 15 years for repeat offenders.

Two young female friends meet up in Laleh park to rest and drink tea together after a long working day. They used to be classmates studying English

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Structures on the verge of collapse in Gaza City’s al-Rimal endanger those living inside and near them.

Móglaí Bap believes that small acts of solidarity can have a huge impact.

Last week, the government announced a new initiative to combat misogyny among young men, targeting both schoolchildren and teachers. The £20m programme will include training for teachers to “spot and tackle misogyny in the classroom” and on issues such as consent and the sharing of intimate images, behavioural programmes for “high-risk pupils” and a helpline for teenagers facing abuse in their relationships. £16m of the money is to be funded directly through taxation; the other £4m will, the government proposes, be raised from private philanthropy. There has been some criticism, such as from the Liberal Democrats who said that the effort would fail if it were not accompanied by efforts to “properly moderate online content”; the domestic abuse commissioner for England and Wales, Nicole Jacobs, said the commitments did not go far enough and that the ‘investment’ was too little. Kemi Badenoch, the Tory party leader, accused the government of spending the summer watching the drama Adolescence, about a boy who kills a girl in his class because she rejected him, and of coming up with “silly gimmicks”, calling for more police to be put on the streets (after her government spent 14 years closing police stations and running down the maintenance of those that remained) and for people to be removed who “shouldn’t be here, especially those from cultures where women are treated as third-class citizens” (her whole treatise can be found on Twitter here).

This was quite offensive to me because the type of violence these programmes are intended to prevent has affected my family, and the perpetrator was a white British man, not a member of an ethnic minority, not a Muslim, not a refugee and not an immigrant. Of the 117 women listed in Karen Ingala Smith’s census of women killed by men in 2019, 74 of the named perpetrators had a name consistent with being white British (and many of the others were European, e.g. Polish or Portuguese); in her 2024 list, the ratio was 72 out of 106. Some Muslim names do feature but the overwhelming majority were names consistent with a western or Christian background. (The perpetrator’s ethnicity is recorded only in a minority of cases.) So even if people who are Muslims, immigrants or both are overrepresented in statistics of certain types of sexual violence or of violence against women and girls, the majority of lethal violence against women is still carried out by the majority of the male population, i.e. white men. There has been much research showing that young boys are accessing pornography in their early teens or earlier as a result of gaining access to internet-enabled mobile phones, and that young men develop unhealthy attitudes to sex, believing that women enjoy things they really do not as a result of seeing them pretend to in these films. While it is true that the violence mostly comes from grown men or older teenagers, teaching young boys about the importance of respecting women and girls, of how to treat them properly in relationships and so on, is important, especially if they are going to remain our problem even if they offend because they are our people and cannot be deported. Even among Muslims, there is evidence that they are exposed to many of the same bad influences as boys from western backgrounds: pornography and the aggressive misogyny touted by the likes of Andrew Tate rather than old-fashioned attitudes imported from “back home”.

Femicide Census, the organisation founded by Karen Ingala-Smith to carry on the work started in “Counting Dead Women”, gave a partial welcome to the new initiative, though is critical of the stance that ‘femicide’ excludes partner or family-perpetrated killings. However, the group of feminists who have been loudly opposing transgender rights and self-indentification (Self ID) and have welcomed the Supreme Court ruling on the subject from earlier this year have been noticeably silent on Kemi Badenoch’s ridiculous remarks. I did a search of the Twitter accounts of some of the feminists known for this stance; only Karen Ingala Smith has tweeted anything critical of it (linking to an interview with the MP Jess Phillips). I did a search of the accounts @AjaTheEmpress, @JeanHatchet, @ForWomenScot (the organisation whose litigation led to the aforementioned Supreme Court ruling), @LilyLilyMaynard, @cwknews (Stephanie Davies-Arai), @HelenSaxby11, @HelenStaniland, @bindelj (Julie Bindel), @ripx4nutmeg, @jo_bartosch, @lascapigliata8 (Maja Bowen/Isidora Sanger) and @BluskyeAllison (Allison Bailey) for mention of Badenoch’s last name in the past week or so and I found none. In a couple of cases there was a link to an article by JK Rowling (who founded her own rape support centre in Edinburgh but whose last mention of Badenoch on Twitter was in April), distracting the discussion onto the trans issue. Many of these women have been using arguments about women’s safety in the trans debate and some have other histories of campaigning or at least opinionating about women’s safety, male violence and so on, so one would think they would be critical of a politician trying to slap down a serious effort to challenge violence against women with a stupid deflection onto race. Probably they would have been more than a couple of years ago.

Heartless and bigoted Tories are, of course, nothing new but by and large they were not stupid. This is. In 1975, the former editor of the New Statesman, Paul Johnson, wrote a piece for the magazine castigating what he called the “know-nothing Left” and the way the Labour party had abandoned the Left’s intellectual traditions and embraced the trade union movement: “the arrogant bosses of the TUC, with their faith in the big battalions and the zombie-weight of collective numbers, their contempt for the individual conscience, their invincible materialism, their blind and exclusive class-consciousness, their rejection of theory for pragmatism, their intolerance and their envious loathing of outstanding intellects” (my response to the piece, republished by the NS in 2013, is here). He noted that ‘elite’ and ‘elitist’ were used as insults, and would have readily have been hurled at major socialist intellectuals of the past including Aneurin Bevan. These days, though, we hear the word used most readily by the likes of Matthew Goodwin, who is regularly on TV accusing “elites” of betraying Britain’s popular will, whether it be on Brexit, immigration or anything else. Not billionaires and the politicians that do their bidding, but intellectuals. Right-wing writers and politicians have been fulminating against expert opposition to their demands for a long while: Michael Gove’s claim that the “public are sick of experts” springs to mind, but even back in the Blair/Brown years there was a piece by Melanie Philips proclaiming that the tabloid she wrote for represented the popular will, and it was quite right that the government listened to them (in this case, on the classification of cannabis) rather than to experts when forming policy. Traditional University arts subjects are run down year on year because of the belief that a college education is only good for building earning potential. As a result, we have an elite of uncultured ignoramuses, some of whom can barely string a sentence together (Suella Braverman springs to mind), who are contemptuous of anyone who knows more than they do.

Right now, the know-nothing Right aren’t in power in this country, but Badenoch’s brainless and bigoted response to a much-needed education programme to fight violence against women and girls should have produced a few critical responses from her own party. Ten or twenty years ago, it absolutely would have done. A Google News search reveals, in fact, no significant critical article bar one in the Guardian which quotes a couple of anti-VAWG charity figures; not that long ago, a chorus of disdain from the blogosphere would have accompanied a fair few mainstream media critiques. Someone ignorant enough to think misogyny and violence against women are imported problems, insignificant among the indigenous population, is just too stupid and ignorant to be in the running to be Prime Minister. I wonder if the party has anyone to replace her who has their head screwed on properly, or if the replacement is going to be just another frothing bigot.

Image source: Lajmmoore, via Wikimedia. Licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike (BY-SA) 4.0 licence.

Introduction

Discussions surrounding a wife’s obedience in marriage are often erroneous and misinformed. Certain scholarly articles online have wrongly attributed to the Hanafi madhhab (school of law) the claim that a wife must obey her husband in all permissible matters; whether something as significant as serving his parents or as trivial as replacing a shampoo cap. This article will explain why such claims are incorrect and will clarify the Hanafi school’s actual position using the most authoritative and widely relied upon books of the school.

When a well-seasoned ustadha—who has been serving and educating women for over two decades—approached me with questions about a wife’s obedience, I was dismayed to find that her understanding and research stemmed from the same online articles. This begs the question: If those who dedicate their lives to educating and supporting women still hold misconceptions about such a fundamental matter, how can we truly serve our sisters?

Fiqh, the Sunnah, and our Dīn are our greatest sources of empowerment; we must reclaim them through sound knowledge and take them from those grounded in authentic scholarship.

Important Points to Keep in Mind

Firstly, it was a challenge to write this article in a way that stays true to scholarly, fiqh-based discussions while considering sisters from all walks of life—especially those who have been wronged through misapplication of the fiqh. Additionally, as someone who teaches a six-month course dedicated to expounding these issues, it is of the utmost importance to me that they are given the attention they deserve—something this article alone cannot fully accomplish. Hence, it is important to acknowledge its limitations: this is merely a technical study on the topic of obedience, not a reflection of Islamic marriage as a whole.

Secondly, before discussing the details of obedience in marriage, it is essential to remember that all rulings in fiqh are subject to the broader maxims of the Sharīʿah (qawāʿid fiqhiyyah) and the principles of usūl al-fiqh. This means that rulings are not absolute in every situation but must be applied within the correct context.

For example:

• A wife does not need her husband’s permission to leave the house if staying poses a threat to her safety.
• She is not obligated to engage in intimacy if it would cause her harm.

These exceptions and others are explicitly mentioned in classical fiqh texts, and demonstrate that Islamic law always considers necessity (ḍarūrah) and harm (ḍarar) when applying rulings. Understanding these nuances ensures that we do not misapply legal rulings in ways that contradict the broader objectives of the Sharīʿah (maqāṣid al-Sharīʿah), which emphasize the preservation of essential interests—religion (dīn), life (nafs), intellect (ʿaql), lineage (nasl), and wealth (māl)—together with consideration of human capacity and the prevention of harm.1

Lastly, as this article focuses solely on the issue of obedience, it does not address a wife’s rights in marriage. Women have rights parallel to and in addition to those of their husbands. Just as a husband has the right to intimacy, so does his wife. She also has the right to privacy and personal space, free from anyone who annoys or harms her. In practice, this means that a husband must ensure his wife’s comfort and consent before bringing guests into shared spaces within the home. These are a few examples, and a comprehensive treatment of a wife’s rights requires deeper exploration beyond the scope of this article.

With these points in mind, we begin the topic at hand: 

Our Beloved Prophet ﷺ said, “If a woman prays her five prayers, fasts her month, guards her chastity, and obeys her husband, she will be told: Enter Paradise from whichever of its gates you wish.”2

This and other narrations like it have been understood literally to mean a wife must obey her husband’s every request. However, fiqh is taken from fuqaha (the jurists/scholars of fiqh) and hadith from muhadithoon (scholars of hadith)3. So, what is the ruling of obeying one’s husband according to the jurists? 

When we go back to the books of fiqh (Islamic law), we find that obedience to the husband is very specific and can be summarized in two points: 

1. Intimacy and what it entails;
2. Permission to leave the house.

According to the Hanafi school, these are the only domains in which obedience is required. The following discussion presents the textual evidence from authoritative Hanafi works that establishes this position.

I. Intimacy

Zayn al-Din ibn Ibrahim ibn Nujaym al-Misri, a distinguished Hanafi jurist, outlines the limits of a wife’s obedience in his authoritative work Bahr al-Ra’iq (The Clear Sea)4. He says: 

“…a woman is not obligated to obey her husband in everything he commands. Rather, obedience is required only in matters of marriage (nikah) and its related aspects, especially if his command would cause her harm…”5

Obedience, therefore, is obligatory only in marriage-related issues. “Marriage” here—i.e., nikāḥ as used by the jurists—“is used literally for sexual relations.6” In other words, in the language of fiqh, the word nikāḥ refers to sexual relations, not merely to the contract or to marriage in general. This is further confirmed in Ibn ‘Abideen’s Hashiyah:

“[Sexual relations] is the meaning of [the word nikāḥ] in the Sharīʿah and in the language.7” 

This is demonstrated by the fiqh rulings. For example, it is imperative to seek the husband’s permission when he is home, and the wife wants to fast a nafl (optional) fast, as this may come in the way of his desire for intimacy. Also, if he asks her to take a ghusl (the obligatory purificatory bath) upon completion of her menstruation in order to be intimate, it would be obligatory upon her to do so, as this relates to his right to intimacy.

The aforementioned explicit text (nass) from the Bahr qualifies all general texts on a wife’s obedience in the Hanafi school. Accordingly, the Hanafis interpret all hadith narrations on a wife’s obedience as referring specifically to intimacy-related matters. 

Likewise, this is affirmed in other major Hanafi works. In Badāʾiʿ al-Ṣanāʾiʿ fī Tartīb al-Sharāʾiʿ (The Marvels of the Crafts in the Arrangement of the Legal Codes), Abū Bakr b. Masʿūd al-Kāsānī (d. 587 AH/1191 CE) says in the chapter on the legal consequences of the marriage contract: 

“Section: The obligation of a wife to obey her husband if he calls her to the bed.

(Section): Among [the legal rulings of marriage] is the wife’s duty to obey her husband if he calls her to the bed.8”

Al-Kāsānī is known for the meticulous detail of his legal analysis. By qualifying obedience specifically to the instance when a wife is called to the marital bed, he indicates that obedience is not intended to be absolute in all matters. Had he understood it as general, he would have simply stated, “Among the consequences of the marriage contract is the wife’s obedience to her husband,” without mentioning any such qualification.

A question may arise here: what about the many other texts that speak of obedience in general terms? Why set those aside in favor of this more specific understanding?

This approach precisely follows the guidelines for issuing fatwas (legal edicts). Muhammad Amin ibn ‘Umar ibn ‘Abideen (d. 1252 AH/1836 CE), known as the “Seal of the Scholarly Verifiers” (خاتم المحققين), outlined these principles in his work ‘Uqud Rasm al-Mufti (The Treatise on the Duties of the Muftī), stating explicitly: “… specifying something in textual transmission implies the negation of anything beyond it.9” 

This means that when an authoritative text qualifies, or places conditions on a general ruling, that qualified ruling becomes the main and definitive position of the madhhab (legal school). It must then be applied consistently, even to other texts that discuss the issue in broader or more general terms.

Hence, no one can argue here that these few texts may not specify the more general texts, as the Bahr al-Raa-iq is an authoritative text and the rules of issuing fatwa (i.e., a formal legal opinion) dictate that this understanding/qualification of obedience is therefore applied to all texts in the Hanafi school10.

II. Permission to Leave the House 

A wife’s obligation to remain in the home unless given permission by her husband to go out is closely connected to the obligation of intimacy, as it is regarded as a means of fulfilling that right.

Imam al-Haskafi says in his al-Durr al-Mukhtar: 

“There is no financial maintenance (nafaqah) for the woman who leaves [her husband’s] house without right…”11

This ruling establishes that if a wife leaves the home without justification, she forfeits her financial rights as a wife, since marital maintenance (nafaqah) is provided in return for her physical presence in the marital home.

There are details to what is considered ‘justified’ in going out, as Imam Ibn ‘Abidīn highlights in his commentary on al-Haskafi’s Durr al-Mukhtar:

[Al-Haskafi’s] statement “so she must not go out, etc.”… meaning: “If she has received (the dowry), then she must not go out, etc.”…According to the apparent implication of the text, if she has received her dowry, she is not allowed to go out—even for necessity or to visit her family without his permission.

However, there are cases where she is permitted to go out, even without his permission12, as mentioned by the commentator (shāriḥ). This is explicitly stated in his commentary on al-Multaqa (The Joining of the Two Seas), citing al-Ashbāh (Analogies and Similar Cases): “Similarly, she may go out if she wishes to perform the obligatory Hajj with a maḥram, or if her father is chronically ill and requires her service, for example…”13

There are also other exceptions to the rule requiring a wife to seek her husband’s permission before going out—such as when she is a midwife or a woman who washes the deceased—as noted by Ibn ʿĀbidīn. The detailed discussion of when a wife must seek permission and when she may go out without it warrants a separate article.

Clarification On Household Duties

Household duties are not from the husband’s rights but may be considered the wife’s responsibility based on customary practice (‘urf) and her socio-economic status.

This is mentioned explicitly by al-Haskafi in his commentary, al-Durr al-Mukhtar (The Chosen Pearl) on Tanweer al-Absaar (The Illumination of Insights):

If the woman refuses to grind flour and bake bread because she is not someone who serves [but is rather served, i.e., has servants], or if she has an illness, then he must provide her with prepared food.

However, if she is someone who normally serves herself and is capable of doing so, then he is not obligated to provide prepared food, and she is not permitted to take payment for it, as it is considered obligatory-religiously (diyānatan) upon her.14

Therefore, this duty is tied to a wife’s socio-economic background. If she comes from a wealthy family with servants and is not accustomed to cooking or performing household tasks, she is not obligated to do so in her marital home; rather, her husband must provide her with prepared food. Conversely, if she is accustomed to serving herself, then cooking becomes obligatory upon her. However, even in such a case, if she is ill or in a state in which she would customarily be cared for—such as during the postpartum period—her husband must provide her with prepared food.

The term “obligatory-religiously” (diyānatan) is used in contrast to “obligatory by law”  (qadaa-an), which is enforceable by the courts. When something is ‘obligatory-religiously’, it still means that she must fulfill it, and failing to do so would be sinful, but it is not enforced by a judge in a court of law. 

This is why household duties are not a “right” of the husband; rather, they fall under personal religious obligations, similar to a wife’s duty to nurse her child or pray witr (according to the Hanafis). These are matters between her and Allah , not something the husband can demand. A key implication of this is that the extent and manner in which she fulfills this obligation—how much she cooks and what she prepares—is her decision, as the duty rests upon her, and does not involve her husband.

Further proof that household duties are not the husband’s right is found in al-Kāsānī’s discussion on the legal consequences of marriage. When listing the obligations of the wife and the rights of the husband, he does not include household tasks such as cooking and cleaning.15

This omission is particularly significant given that al-Kāsānī is highly detailed in this chapter, addressing matters such as inheritance, in-law relations, and even the permission of the spouses to look at and touch one another—yet this so-called “right” is never mentioned.

Conclusion

Misunderstanding obedience in marriage has led to serious consequences. The expectation of absolute obedience places an immense burden on women, resulting in stress, resentment, and, at times, oppressive treatment. For example, some husbands demand that their wives serve their in-laws—visiting their homes to clean—while still maintaining their own homes; a combination that causes significant stress and anxiety. Many women from traditionally rigid fiqh backgrounds who follow this erroneous position find themselves overwhelmed by these supposed “duties.” Sadly, as this has been accepted as the status quo, it is no wonder women are struggling in their marriages, as these expectations are both unrealistic and unfeasible.

Additionally, husbands take their wives’ service for granted, viewing it as an entitlement rather than an act of kindness. Such an understanding can readily lead to an abuse of authority, where the husband’s demands are never-ending, and the wife can never fully satisfy them. This breeds resentment and undermines the very foundation of a healthy marriage.

In conclusion, we see that it is not obligatory to obey one’s husband in matters related to in-laws16, guests, or yes—even the shampoo bottle cap. The reality, as defined by the fuqaha (jurists), grants women far more autonomy than is commonly assumed. The correct understanding of obedience, rooted in legal texts, safeguards against the misuse of religious rulings to justify control, suppression, and injustice. 

As scholars have long emphasized, “rights are for the courts and the miserly,” whereas true companionship is grounded in the sublime Sunnah of our Beloved Prophet ﷺ and his Noble Family; sunnahs of mutual kindness and iḥsān (excellence). Just as a wife is expected to help fulfill not only her husband’s needs but also his preferences, he is equally expected to support hers, honoring her hopes and aspirations beyond mere needs. Ultimately, a marriage that focuses solely on rights and obligations—without regard for each other’s hopes and aspirations—may be doomed to failure or misery.

May Allah grant us the success and ability to follow the Sunnah in our marriages and bless them with love and mercy.

والحمد لله ربّ العالمين

 

Related:

– Podcast | Happily Ever After (Ep 2) – What Are The Limits Of Wifely Obedience?

– A Primer On Intimacy And Fulfillment Of A Wife’s Desires Based On The Writings Of Scholars Of The Past

 

 

1    Human capacity means that obligations only apply within a person’s ability. For example, if one can’t pray standing, she sits. 2    Ahmad ibn Hanbal, Musnad Ahmad, Hadith no. 1661. 3     In a well known narration, Imam al-A‘mash, the exegete and hadith scholar, says to Imam Abu Hanifa, the jurist and founder of the madhhab: “O group of jurists, you are the doctors, and we are the pharmacists.”4    Zain al-Din Ibn Ibrahim Ibn Muhammad Ibn Nujaym (d. 970 AH/1563 CE), Bahr al-Ra’iq (The Clear Sea) is a commentary on Kanz al-Daqaa’iq (The Treasure of Subtleties), one of the foundational texts of the Hanafi school by Abū al-Barakāt ʿAbd Allāh b. Aḥmad al-Nasafī (d. 710/1310), a prominent Hanafi scholar.5    Ibn Nujaym, Al-Bahr al-Ra’iq Sharh Kanz al-Daqa’iq, vol. 5, p. 77, Dar al-Kitab al-Islami, 3rd ed.6    ʿAlāʾ al-Dīn al-Ḥaṣkafī, Al-Durr al-Mukhtār Sharḥ Tanwīr al-Abṣār (The Chosen Pearl on The Illumination of Insights), vol. 3, p. 5, Muṣṭafā al-Bābī al-Ḥalabī, 3rd ed., 1984.7    Ibn ʿĀbidīn, Ḥāshiyat Radd al-Muḥtār ʿalā al-Durr al-Mukhtār Sharḥ Tanwīr al-Abṣār, vol. 3, p. 5, Muṣṭafā al-Bābī al-Ḥalabī, 3rd ed., 1984.8    Abū Bakr b. Masʿūd al-Kasani, Badāʾiʿ al-Ṣanāʾiʿ fī Tartīb al-Sharāʾiʿ, vol. 3, p. 613, Dār al-Kutub al-ʿIlmiyya, 2nd ed., 2003.9    Muhammad Ameen Ibn Umar Ibn ‘Abideen, Majmu’atu Rasaa-il Ibn ‘Abideen, quoting Ghayat al-Bayan, p. 41 (Beirut: Dar Ihya al-Turath al-Arabi, n.d.).10    A more detailed explanation of intimacy and its conditions will be covered in another article, in shā’ Allāh.11    Al-Ḥaṣkafī, Al-Durr al-Mukhtār, vol. 3, p. 604-5.12    Emphasis added.13    Ibn ‘Abideen, Ḥāshiyat, vol. 3, p.154.14    Al-Ḥaṣkafī, Al-Durr al-Mukhtār, vol. 3, p. 608.15    Al-Kāsānī, Badāʾiʿ al-Ṣanāʾiʿ, vol. 3, p. 605.16    . When it comes to significant matters that affect both spouses, such as in-laws and family dynamics, both partners must exercise due consideration to ensure that each feels valued and fulfilled. Neglecting this balance can lead to resentment, ultimately undermining the maqāṣid (higher objectives) of the Sacred Law in fostering a stable and harmonious marriage.

The post The Limits Of Obedience In Marriage: A Hanafi Legal Perspective appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

Israeli interrogator denailed the prisoners’ fingernails to elicit a confession forcibly.

A brutal childhood under a violent father forges young Darius into a skilled fighter, setting the stage for a life shaped by hardship, survival, and a search for meaning.

* * *

Author’s Preface

I woke up recently with the idea for this story in my head, and immediately sat down and began to write. Maybe it was a dream I had, I don’t know. I’ve never been short of ideas, alhamdulillah. I have more ideas than I know what to do with.

If you’re a long-time reader of mine, you’ve noticed that my early novels focused heavily on action and international intrigue. Later stories, such as Day of the Dogs, The Things He Would Say, and the most recently completed Moonshot, were more about family dynamics. All That Is In The Heavens is, of course, straight-up sci-fi. I do plan to return to that, by the way.

I like changing things up. I’m not one of those writers who churns out dozens of novels based on a single formula. Maybe I should be, since some of those authors make a lot of money. Speaking of which, I met Danielle Steele once at a charity auction at Fort Mason in San Francisco, and bought her old antique typewriter. Another time, I made a delivery to her mansion, which occupies an entire block in Pacific Heights. There’s someone who took a formula and alchemized it into pure gold.

But no, I prefer to push myself and explore new fictional territory. This next story is a first. I hesitate to call it a fable. It is based in the real world, and rooted in the culture and historical circumstances of 1700’s rural China, featuring a Hui Muslim family. The Hui are an East Asian ethno-religious group that is predominantly Muslim. Today, the official Chinese census says there are 10 million of them. They are not segregated, but live intermixed with Han Chinese, and their practice of Islam tends to be low-key.

I did a lot of research to keep the story historically accurate. However, I never name China as such.

The narrator’s tone is brutally honest yet distant, as if narrating these events from a time many years removed. As such, it is not extremely detailed. That’s why I almost call it a fable.

It won’t be a full novel. Maybe 20,000 words, of which 10,000 are already written. Eight to ten chapters. I hope you enjoy it. – Wael Abdelgawad, Author

* * *

Father and Son

When my father, whose name was Yong Lee, wasn’t in prison, he taught me to fight and to steal. He was a small man and a drunkard, and he treated my sweet mother badly. I despised him. When Mother died of a breathing disease, all I could think was that instead of taking me with her into the realm of silence, she had left me behind. I was seven years old. I remember that I cried for many days, and struck my father, blaming him for Mother’s death. He was a violent man, yet, when I hit him he did not react.

Someone had taught my father to fight very well – not street brawling, but a fighting style that he called Five Animals, that consisted of rapid, fluid movements, deep stances, dramatic leaps and kicks, and the use of the spear and sword.

The sword was curved, single-edged, and about as long as my young arm. My father called it a dao. He had long since sold his genuine dao to buy wine, but he’d made two replicas out of hardwood, and a pair of spears as well. We owned a small rice paddy that had gone to seed, and was a rat-filled nest of weeds and mud. My father would take me out to the paddy and run me through dao and spear forms, and then we would fight. He was not gentle, and by the end of the session I was always bleeding and bruised.

Failed Defiance

One time, I defied him, throwing down the dao and screaming that I hated him and would not do it anymore. He seized my shirt with both hands and put his face very close to mine. His breath reeked of wine. “This is the only thing of worth I have to give you, Darius,” he said. “You will take it, or I will kill you, then kill myself.”

I believed him, and I never refused to train after that.

Once, when we went into town to steal, the Mayor approached us. He looked me up and down – my ragged clothes, split lip, cut cheek, and a gash on my arm – and told my father plainly that if he did not treat me better, they would take me away and send me to live with my aunt. This was the first time I knew that I had an aunt.

My father raged that the Mayor could not do that. The Mayor cowered, for everyone knew my father’s fighting prowess, but to his credit, he held his ground and said that he would do it anyway. After that, my father treated me a little better, for though he still forced me to train, he did so less violently.

My father stole food from local vendors, cheated at card games, and picked pockets. He excelled at these things, and on the rare occasions he was caught, the locals would decline to press charges, for they knew my father’s temper and abilities.

In the town there was a temple with a great statue, and the people went there to pray, meditate, and leave offerings. My father scoffed at this, saying these people were brainless idiots, and he would sooner stab himself in the eye than waste his time and money on a hunk of bronze that could not see, speak, nor even defend itself. “The only one to worship is Allah,” he said, but when I asked him about the meaning of this word, and who was Allah, and where was his temple, my father fell mute.

Wake Up Hungry, Sleep Hungry

My father was not foolish enough to steal from nobles, but some traveling nobles dressed plainly so that you did not know their status, and every now and then, my father would be caught stealing from such a one; or from a traveling businessman or functionary. These people had no fear of him and always pressed charges, whereupon my father would be whipped and sent to prison.

Whenever this happened, I was left to fend for myself. After seeing my father whipped, I was not brave enough to pick pockets, so I confined myself to going out at night and stealing corn, potatoes, and tomatoes from local farms. The amounts I stole were so small that either no one noticed or they pretended not to, for they feared my father even in his absence. When I was younger, I had sometimes helped my mother cook, and I knew enough to boil the vegetables, which I ate plain with a bit of salt.

I was very thin, and my clothes were so tattered they were nearly falling off. I was lonely, but I did not despair. My days of crying myself to sleep were long past, and I knew my father would return. I did not know how far away the prison was, but I did not feel that my father was far away. His presence was commanding and inescapable, even in his absence. In addition, I was long since used to waking hungry and sleeping hungry. To me, it was a normal state of existence, and in fac,t I could not imagine what it might be like to have companionship and a belly full of food.

Hiding

Three times, the Mayor and a few others came to the house looking for me, but each time I hid. I barred the door with a chair, doused the candle, and crawled beneath the straw mattress, which was silly because if they managed to enter they would see my form anyway. I held my breath and watched the movement of shadows beneath the door as the men stood outside calling, “Darius Lee!” But they did not enter, for they knew better than to enter the house of Yong Lee without permission, even in his absence. Eventually, they went away.

I did not know if they wanted to punish me for stealing, or to send me to live with my aunt. I did not want to be sent away. Though I hated my father, I also loved him and missed him. I cannot explain this except to say that he was all I knew, and I felt a strange loyalty to him. He had spent countless hours teaching me Five Animals style, and though he was brutal, it was personal and intense. In his twisted way he cared about me and perhaps even loved me, though he had never expressed such a thing, and I had only ever heard that word – love – from my mother.

There was an enemy invading our lands from the south. It was said that they came on great ships, and wore armor of a kind our weapons could not penetrate. Wherever they went, they massacred our people and burned our homes. They were said to be tall and ivory-skinned, and fought with long, straight swords. I had never seen such a person, and could not imagine why they wanted our hardscrabble rice and corn fields. But every time I went into town to beg for a little money to buy salt, I saw more and more refugees either passing through or living in shacks on the outskirts of town.

There were posters in the shop windows. I knew how to read and write, as my dear mother had taught me. The posters said that anyone who volunteered to fight the invaders would be paid five gold pieces upon inscription, and one gold piece a month. The minimum age was fifteen, however, and at that time I was only eleven.

Return

My father came home from prison. He’d always been a strong and hard man, yet he returned from prison with new scars, and a terrible rage in his eyes. I thought he might take his anger out on me, in training, but when he saw my condition – I was so thin that my cheeks were hollow and my ribs protruded – he squatted down, covered his face, and wept. I had never seen my father crying, and did not know what to do. Torn between comforting him – how would I do that exactly? – and walking away to preserve his dignity, I sat down in front of him and said nothing. He suddenly seized me. I tensed up, ready to fight or flee, but he only embraced me and whispered, “I am sorry.” At this, I did flee, for it confused and saddened me more than all the beatings.

My father had quit drinking. He was not an affectionate man, and he still stole from time to time – but our training, though still exhausting, was no longer bloody. Furthermore, he began working the land. He would wake me up at dawn, and we would labor and sweat, clearing weeds, planting peanuts, and fertilizing. My father worked feverishly, as hard as any horse or donkey, and I understood that this was his way of pouring out of himself the terrible anger that – like a horse carrying a millstone – he had carried home from prison.

When the first peanut crop came in, he took me into town, where we sold the crop to a merchant. Then he took me to an eatery, where we sat at a table like normal citizens. My father ordered a huge quantity of food, and we gorged ourselves on rice, beef, green beans, sesame buns, bean cake, broccoli, and egg noodles. I had never even tasted some of these things.

When we could eat no more, my stomach felt like it would burst. I felt sleepy and content for the first time in many years. “So,” I thought. “This is what it’s like to be full.” I felt something I could not identify, which I later came to understand was contentment, and it frightened me because I knew it could not and would not last.

Infestation and Enlistment

My fear was premonitory. An infestation of rats destroyed our crop, and we were left destitute. My father stomped through the field, hacking at the rats with a plow and screaming foul words. He seemed not angry but despairing, and this shocked me, as I had never imagined my father this way.

The next day, he went into town by himself. I was afraid he had gone to drink and would return to beat me as in the past, but no. When he returned, he wore a scabbard hanging from his hip. He sat me down and handed me a small purse. I looked inside and saw five gold pieces, shining like the sunrise. “I have enlisted to fight the invaders,” he told me. “With this money you can buy traps and poison to kill the rats, then plant a new crop. You know how to raise the crop, how to harvest, and where to sell it. You will be fine. I will send my salary home to you.”

Then he removed the scabbard from his hip and drew a shining steel dao with a razor-sharp edge and a pommel wrapped in green cord. He re-sheathed it and handed it to me with both hands. “I bought this for you,” he said. “Never let anyone take what is yours.”

I begged my father not to go. I debased myself, throwing myself on the ground, crying and clutching his legs. But he left.

Robbers

I killed the rats and planted the crop. I lived simply, never wanting to let anyone know of the gold I had. The dao remained with me at all times, on my back when I worked in the fields, and by my side as I slept. At times, I took it out and practiced. It was lighter than the wooden version I had trained with, and was very sharp. Once, I cut my own thigh by accident. The cut became infected, and I passed two days in a fever, thrashing on the little straw-stuffed mattress, until I got up and dragged myself to the medicine man in the village. He cleaned my wound and slathered it with something sweet-smelling, and I paid in gold, receiving some silver and copper coins in return.

That night, two men broke into my house seeking the gold. They were young, rough-looking men who wore no masks, and were armed only with knives. I was still unsteady on my feet. Nevertheless, I drew my dao. The men laughed. “A boy with a shiny toy,” one said. “That will soon be mine.” He lunged at me with a knife. I parried it easily with the dao, and in a single smooth motion, thrust the sword into his throat. The other, shocked, took a step back. When I went after him, he threw the knife at me. I dodged it, then leaped forward and slashed him across the belly. Clutching his hands to his belly, he turned and stumbled away, and I let him go.

Evil Banners

The floor of the house was no more than baked earth, and was now stained heavily with blood. I went out to fetch a bucket of water from our small well, to clean the floor, and saw a blood trail from the second man leading into the peanut field. I found his dead body in the field, his hands still clutching his belly as his entrails hung out like evil banners, and a portent of bad things to come.

Leaving the man in the field for the moment, I scrubbed the floors inside. Seeing in my mind the point of the sword entering the man’s throat, remembering the slight resistance as it penetrated, I vomited, then cleaned that up as well.

Then I dug a deep hole in the field and buried both men. This took two days of labor, as I had to use a pickaxe to get through a layer of limestone and shale. When it was done, I collapsed into bed and slept for three days and nights, waking only to drink water. When I recovered, my leg wound had healed. No one ever came to ask about the dead robbers.

New Songs

I continued to practice with the dao. I cycled through all the moves my father had taught me, then improvised. If movement were a song, then I broke the words apart and put them back together in random ways, creating new songs that sometimes made no sense, and other times struck my own soul like gongs, leaving it shivering. I cut myself a few more times, but not seriously, until there came a point where that was no longer a concern. The dao was part of me. I would no more cut myself with it than I would poke myself in the eye, or punch myself in the stomach.

My father had taught me to count the days from planting, and harvest the peanuts at 130 days. The crop came in full and heavy, and I sold it for a good price. While I was in town, I went to see the Mayor. My father had said he would send my salary, but it had not arrived.

* * *

 

Come back next week for Part 2 – Alone

Reader comments and constructive criticism are important to me, so please comment!

See the Story Index for Wael Abdelgawad’s other stories on this website.

Wael Abdelgawad’s novels – including Pieces of a Dream, The Repeaters and Zaid Karim Private Investigator – are available in ebook and print form on his author page at Amazon.com.

Related:

Zaid Karim, Private Investigator, Part 1 – Temptation

No, My Son | A Short Story

 

The post Far Away [Part 1] – Five Animals appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

Last weekend I saw a set of pictures on Instagram with the lead picture containing the headline “The Ten Most Dangerous Logical Fallacies”. The author, Sahil Bloom (author of a book called The Five Types of Wealth), does not explain why they are more dangerous than any other; these are just ten of the best-known or perhaps most common. They include ad hominem, straw man, appeal to authority, false dilemmas, hasty generalisations and the “fallacy fallacy”, i.e. thinking you’ve disproved someone’s argument because you’ve identified a fallacy. He also includes the “sunk cost fallacy”, continuing to expend money or effort on something because of the money or effort already expended, when “smart people” cut their losses; this is a major reason why scam victims continue to engage at their own loss after they start to suspect that they are being scammed, but it’s not relevant to the context in which the other fallacies listed are commonly used. However, the fallacy I want to discuss is “tu quoque” (“and you too”), also known as the “appeal to hypocrisy”, because it is often invoked in contexts in which the argument is in fact quite valid.

Tu quoque is illustrated by a man holding a bottle of beer, telling another man “you are not morally correct because you smoke”. The other man starts to reply “but …”. It’s a trivial example that illustrates how the fallacy works, but it also illustrates why it can sometimes be used validly. Smoking is something people often get addicted to when they are young, because their friends do it and they do it to fit in; tobacco smoke also smells bad to anyone not used to it and both the plant and the smoke contain chemicals which cause a number of diseases, mostly but not exclusively to the smoker. Many smokers nowadays do things to mitigate the effects to others, such as only smoking outside (it is banned in enclosed public spaces in the UK nowadays). Alcohol can also be harmful: it makes people drunk after a glass or two, often too drunk to drive safely, and affects their behaviour, making them uninhibited or violent. Western society considers a moderate drinker to be more “morally correct” than a smoker, but a hard drinker (including someone who might be found drinking at work, as that picture suggests) more of a danger. Someone applying for a sensitive job, such as a teacher, who was a smoker who only smoked outdoors would stand a better chance than a problem drinker, even though the drinker didn’t smell of smoke. (If drinking at all is a sin in your religion, as it is in mine, someone who is known to drink will be excluded from consideration altogether, and may be ostracised.)

And this last point illustrates why this line of argument often is no fallacy. It is a fallacy in a pure, academic moral exercise, but the world is not like that. In the real world, the accuser’s flaws might well be relevant. In an election campaign, for example, a candidate might be making loud criticisms of his opponent’s character but be just as guilty of some of them himself, or of others, and this would directly affect his competence or suitability for the job, so it is entirely valid for the opponent or his supporters to point it out. It might not make the thing he is accused of right, but if the accuser is worse, it might not make him a worse candidate. If a country is gearing up for war, criticisms of their enemy might include that he rigs elections, is corrupt, or is repressive and has people summarily executed or tortured, and the fact that other countries do the same does not make any of those things right either, but if some of those countries are our allies and we are not making any threats towards them, it clearly shows that human rights are not the reason for the war. Whether the war is justified or not, the debate needs to be had, and to be had honestly.

In other contexts, “tu quoque” fails as an argument. When someone is apprehended for a crime, it is no defence to argue that someone else has done the same, or worse, and is not being prosecuted. Sometimes this is fair, sometimes not; if the offence is drug possession, and the person arrested was arrested as a result of a racially-motivated stop and search while people with another skin colour use the same drugs freely, that is obviously unjust and racist, but if the offence is something that causes great harm, like rape, the unfairness is of no importance; taking one rapist off the streets is vital, even if it is in no way preferable to taking off two. It has sometimes been used as a defence in war crimes trials, where officials from the defeated power are tried at the behest of victors who have perpetrated other crimes in other wars, or in their colonial empires, but invariably rejected because the crimes in question were heinous and they were arrested when their attempt to seize their neighbours’ countries failed.

The same set of pictures includes a slide on the “appeal to authority” fallacy and this, too, sometimes has valid uses: 

The person uses an expert’s opinion as proof, without any supporting evidence. Experts can inform your thinking, but they generally shouldn’t replace it. People often hide behind credentials when logic runs out.

The problem here is that expert opinion is all that the average person has to go on when talking about things that are beyond their expertise. The average person might assume that one summer is the direct result of man-climate change, or that a cold winter disproves it; they often do not even know what constitutes ‘evidence’ and what is irrelevant. The fact is that the majority of the world’s climate scientists are of the opinion that man-made climate change, caused by burning too much fossil fuel too quickly while destroying the rainforests for logging and farming, is real; to state that is not a fallacy because the authority is real. What is a fallacy is when people cite dissenting studies to explain away a scientific consensus that is inconvenient to them, because it would require them to change their behaviour or might affect their business or other personal circumstances. They will often say “this scientist says …” or “this expert says …” without considering that he is the wrong type of scientist or expert, and is at variance with sometimes an overwhelming majority of qualified scholarly opinion.

In short, there are sometimes good reasons to use arguments that, in an academic context, are fallacies. Sometimes the character of one’s opponent is relevant, sometimes it matters that the accuser is just as guilty as the accused, sometimes it matters that the ‘offending’ behaviour is normal (though sometimes it does not), and sometimes we need to rely on experts rather than our own perceptions; even when the argument is not valid in itself, it does open a window on another injustice. We use arguments not for their own sake, but to advance a cause or to prevent harm being done. The world is not an academic exercise in moral philosophy, and we cannot and should not always behave as if it is.

Image source: Sahil Bloom, via Instagram.

At least three children have died of hypothermia due to Israel’s continued refusal to allow in necessary shelters and materials.

For most families, “returning home” means pitching tents beside the ruins of their houses.

Annual awards ceremony brings in big money from Murdoch-owned media.

Gaza’s fishing sector, once a crucial source of livelihoods, is operating at just 7.3 percent of its pre-genocide capacity.