Respect allows engagement and questioning. Sanctification elevates individuals to a level where critique becomes difficult. Once a scholar’s name is accompanied by exalted honorifics, the title begins to function as a pre-emptive endorsement. The mind does not fully evaluate; it tends to submit.
Prof Hamid Naseem Rafiabadi
The question is not whether scholars and elders deserve respect. They certainly do. Nor is the issue whether intellectual excellence should be recognised. It must be. The real concern lies elsewhere: when recognition shifts from substance to symbolism, from ideas to individuals, from evidence to elaborate titles, a subtle but powerful distortion enters intellectual life. What appears to be reverence can gradually become an obstacle to thought. This condition—often described as akabir parasti (veneration of great personalities)—is not simply a cultural habit; it is a structural problem that affects how knowledge is transmitted, received, and evaluated.
At its core, the issue involves a crucial distinction: respect is not the same as sanctification. Respect allows engagement, questioning, and even disagreement. Sanctification, on the other hand, elevates individuals to a level where critique becomes difficult, if not unthinkable. Once a scholar’s name is accompanied by a series of exalted honorifics—titles that emphasise grandeur rather than contribution—the listener is influenced before the argument is even heard. The title begins to function as a pre-emptive endorsement, shaping perception in advance. In such a setting, the mind does not fully evaluate; it tends to submit.
This dynamic has significant implications for educational environments, especially in traditional seminaries. Students are often not explicitly instructed to avoid questioning, yet the atmosphere itself discourages it. Instead of being told, “This is one opinion; examine it critically,” they are implicitly taught, “This is the position of a great authority; accept it.” The difference may appear subtle, but its consequences are profound. Reason steps back, and personality steps forward. Inquiry becomes hesitation, and hesitation eventually becomes silence.
The phenomenon is reinforced by three interrelated tendencies: akabir parasti (veneration of elders), alqab parasti (attachment to titles), and the overextension of adab (etiquette). Together, these shape a mental environment in which questioning is perceived not as a scholarly act but as a social risk. The student begins to internalise the idea that intellectual engagement must yield to hierarchical sensitivity. Over time, critical thinking is not openly suppressed—it is quietly abandoned.
Titles, in this context, do more than describe; they influence cognition. When a teacher or scholar is introduced with a long sequence of honorifics, the student experiences a form of psychological pressure. The authority of the title precedes the authority of the argument. By the time the reasoning is presented, the space for independent evaluation has already narrowed. This is not the weight of knowledge itself, but the weight of linguistic framing.
Historically, the widespread use of grand titles did not emerge without context. In periods of political fragmentation and weakened legitimacy, symbolic language often expanded to compensate for institutional uncertainty. Competing centres of authority, particularly during times when multiple political powers claimed leadership, relied increasingly on titles to assert legitimacy. Elaborate honorifics were not merely descriptive; they functioned as rhetorical tools to strengthen claims to authority.
Over time, this pattern extended into scholarly culture. Titles became markers of distinction, but also instruments of hierarchy. In certain historical periods, the proliferation of honorifics reached a point where existing terms seemed insufficient, leading to the creation of increasingly elaborate designations. While these titles may have initially reflected recognition, they gradually began to shape intellectual relationships in ways that discouraged critical engagement.
The problem, therefore, is not the existence of titles, but their transformation into instruments of intellectual insulation. When a scholar is perceived as occupying an elevated and nearly infallible status, the natural processes of critique and verification are weakened. The student no longer feels authorised to engage with ideas independently; instead, there is an implicit expectation to conform.
This dynamic is further intensified by the misapplication of adab. In its original sense, adab refers to ethical discipline, humility, and proper conduct—qualities essential to the pursuit of knowledge. However, when adab is interpreted as unconditional restraint in the presence of authority, it becomes counterproductive. Phrases such as “This question does not suit your status” or “One should not speak about the elders” transform etiquette into a mechanism that limits inquiry. In such cases, manners are no longer facilitating learning; they are restricting it.
It is important to recognise that the broader intellectual tradition of Islam does not support such limitations. The early scholarly ethos was characterised by inquiry, discussion, and the willingness to engage in disagreement. Differences of opinion were acknowledged and often respected. A well-known scholarly principle holds that every statement can be accepted or rejected except that of the Prophet. This principle reflects a commitment to intellectual humility and openness: no human authority is beyond evaluation.
When this principle is overshadowed by excessive reverence for individuals, the consequences become evident. Students begin to assess ideas based not on their merit but on their source. The question “Is this correct?” is replaced by “Who said this?” Over time, this leads to a rigid form of intellectual dependency, where independent reasoning is minimised and inherited positions are followed without sufficient scrutiny.
In the contemporary context, the issue has taken on an additional dimension. The decline of centralised authority has not reduced the use of titles; rather, it has contributed to their proliferation. Honorifics are now more accessible and often less regulated. In some cases, titles are self-assigned or loosely conferred, resulting in an environment where their significance is diluted. Instead of reflecting genuine scholarly achievement, they may function as markers of social positioning or self-representation.
This inflation of titles has two major consequences. First, it weakens the meaning of recognition itself. When distinctions are applied indiscriminately, they lose their value. Second, it reinforces the same hierarchical mindset: individuals are elevated in ways that discourage critique, regardless of their actual contribution. In such a setting, titles may obscure rather than reveal intellectual substance.
Addressing this issue does not require abandoning respect or diminishing the role of scholars. Rather, it calls for a recalibration of how recognition is expressed. A more balanced approach would prioritise three foundational elements: actions, knowledge, and character. These are measurable, observable, and directly connected to intellectual and ethical development. A scholar’s contribution should be evaluated based on the strength of evidence presented, the clarity of reasoning, and the integrity of conduct.
Titles, if used, should remain descriptive rather than prescriptive. They should inform the listener about a scholar’s field or contribution without creating a barrier to engagement. Simplicity in addressing individuals can help normalise intellectual interaction and reduce the psychological distance between teacher and student.
In educational settings, this shift requires intentional effort. Teachers can play a central role by encouraging questions and modelling openness to critique. Students should be trained to differentiate between respect and uncritical acceptance. Disagreement should be framed as a natural and constructive part of the learning process, not as a violation of etiquette.
Equally important is the cultivation of intellectual confidence. The most effective form of limitation is not external restriction but internalised hesitation. When students begin to censor their own questions out of fear of appearing disrespectful, the system of control becomes self-sustaining. Breaking this pattern requires a clear message: thoughtful questioning is not a sign of weakness in manners, but a sign of seriousness in learning.
A culture that values inquiry does not undermine respect; it strengthens it. True respect for scholars lies not in placing them beyond critique, but in engaging with their ideas sincerely and rigorously. The legacy of past scholars was not built on titles alone, but on their willingness to think, to question, and to strive for truth.
In this light, simplifying the way individuals are addressed is not an act of disregard; it is an effort to restore balance. It shifts attention from the aura surrounding a name to the substance of what is being said. It reminds both teacher and student that knowledge is not inherited through titles but acquired through effort.
Ultimately, the goal is to create an intellectual environment where recognition is grounded in merit, not magnified through language. When actions, knowledge, and character become the primary standard of evaluation, the need for excessive honorifics diminishes naturally. What remains is a space where ideas can be examined openly, where disagreement is possible without hostility, and where learning is guided by clarity rather than constraint.
Such an environment does not reject tradition; it engages with it more authentically. It acknowledges the contributions of the past while preserving the freedom necessary for future development. And in doing so, it ensures that respect remains a source of inspiration, not a barrier to understanding.
—Dr Hamid Naseem Rafiabadi (also known as Dr Hamidullah Marazi) is a distinguished contemporary Islamic scholar whose work significantly contributes to the dialogue between Islamic philosophy and modern Western thought. He is the author of several books. Through a rigorous comparative methodology and an emphasis on epistemological integrity grounded in Tawhid (the oneness of God), Marazi critiques secular paradigms and advocates for an integrative intellectual tradition. His scholarship not only critiques Western thought but also calls for mutual enrichment between traditions, emphasising Islamic metaphysics, ethics, and educational reform as central to contemporary challenges.
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