Classical Islamic civilisation flourished precisely because faith and reason were seen as complementary. Scholars such as Ibn Sina and Ibn Rushd pursued scientific inquiry as an extension of religious responsibility
Najmuddin A Farooqi
EXCESSIVE mysticism and heightened religiosity tend to undermine the scientific temper, while material progress remains essential for a life of dignity in this world. Death is an undeniable reality, but it follows life it must not precede or eclipse it. Human beings are born into the world to live meaningfully, for themselves and for others: to acquire knowledge, pursue economic development, engage in productive hard work, contribute to socio-cultural life, and seek happiness. The natural and inherent human impulse is toward living, growth and long-term progress, not toward self-negation or destruction. Life lies within human agency; death does not.
Faith has historically played a decisive role in shaping moral consciousness, social solidarity, and ethical restraint across civilisations. In South Asia, Islamic thought in particular has offered a rich intellectual and spiritual legacy that emphasised justice, learning and human dignity. Yet history also cautions that when religion is reduced primarily to promises of otherworldly comfort or excessive mysticism, it may inadvertently weaken a society’s engagement with the material, scientific and intellectual demands of the present world.
What may be described as aspirational wisdom the ability to integrate ethical awareness with ambition, inquiry and productive effort has been central to civilisational vitality. This form of wisdom does not negate faith; rather, it operationalises belief in the service of human flourishing. When aspirational wisdom is inhibited, vision contracts. Human agency gives way to resignation, often legitimised through selective theological reasoning and a culture of fatalism.
This concern was powerfully articulated by Poet of the East Allama Muhammad Iqbal, who repeatedly warned against spiritual inertia disguised as piety. Iqbal’s critique of khudi-less religiosity was not a rejection of mysticism but a rejection of passivity. For him, faith was meant to awaken selfhood, courage and creative energy not to console believers into stagnation. His insistence that “nations are born in the hearts of poets” was ultimately a call for moral imagination coupled with worldly action.
Within sections of South Asian Muslim discourse today, an overemphasis on the rewards of the hereafter, combined with a romanticisation of withdrawal from worldly struggle, has sometimes weakened commitment to education, scientific reasoning and institutional excellence. Material ambition is frequently mischaracterised as moral corruption, while poverty and decline are explained away as a divine decree. Such narratives, while emotionally reassuring, risk converting patience into passivity and hope into helplessness.
This tendency, however, is not inherent to Islam. Classical Islamic civilisation flourished precisely because faith and reason were seen as complementary. Scholars such as Ibn Sina and Ibn Rushd pursued scientific inquiry as an extension of religious responsibility. In the Indian subcontinent, Shah Waliullah sought spiritual renewal alongside social reform, while Sir Syed Ahmad Khan argued forcefully that Muslims could not reclaim dignity without embracing modern education and scientific temper. The Aligarh Movement itself was an embodiment of aspirational wisdom; an assertion that progress in this world was neither irreligious nor morally suspect.
Iqbal echoed this tradition when he cautioned against a rigid and clericalised religiosity that feared change and discouraged questioning. For him, a living faith was dynamic, forward-looking, and restless with possibility. He admired science not as an alternative to belief but as a manifestation of humanity’s God-given capacity to explore, understand and transform the world.
The danger, therefore, lies not in spirituality but in spiritual escapism. When faith is invoked to justify withdrawal from responsibility, indifference to excellence, or acceptance of decline, it ceases to be transformative. Societies that consistently defer justice, prosperity and knowledge to the afterlife risk neglecting the ethical obligations of the present life.
Reclaiming balance is essential. Faith must once again function as a moral force that energises discipline, courage and intellectual curiosity. Aspirational wisdom demands that believers build institutions, advance science, confront inequality, and pursue excellence while remaining ethically anchored.
As Iqbal reminded his audience, destiny is not written for those who refuse to act. A civilisation that looks only toward heaven risks losing its footing on earth. Inhibiting aspirational wisdom does not elevate spirituality; it diminishes vision. And when vision fades, decline follows quietly, but inexorably.
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Najmuddin A Farooqi is a Lucknow-based journalist and writer. His areas of interest are social, economic, education and health. The views expressed here are the author’s own and Clarion India does not necessarily subscribe to them.
