There is a painful question that we, as a society, must have the courage to ask ourselves: Have we become more interested in proving that we are right than in making our society righteous?
Kashmir has a long and rich tradition of religious learning. Its mosques, madrasas and religious scholars have played an important role in shaping the moral and social life of the people. Generations have looked towards the Ulama not merely for religious knowledge, but also for guidance during difficult times.
But today, something appears to be changing.
Instead of becoming a source of unity, some religious platforms are increasingly becoming spaces where differences are highlighted, sectarian identities are strengthened and one group is sometimes portrayed as the enemy of another.
This is not an accusation against every alim or religious scholar. There are many scholars who continue to work sincerely for education, social welfare, peace and religious understanding. But precisely because the Ulama occupy such an influential position, even the mistakes of a few can have consequences for an entire society.
The question, therefore, is not whether religious differences exist. They have existed throughout Islamic history.
The question is: Why have we allowed differences to become greater than our common faith?
When knowledge becomes a source of distance
The Qur’an gives an unmistakable warning: “And hold firmly to the rope of Allah all together and do not become divided.” It further warns believers not to become like those who divided after receiving clear guidance.
This message should perhaps be written on the walls of every mosque, madrasa and religious institution.
Yet, in our public religious discourse, we sometimes spend more energy discussing who is right, who is wrong, who belongs to which group and whose practice should be rejected.
The ordinary Kashmiri Muslim is left confused.
He wants to pray.
He wants to earn an honest livelihood.
He wants peace in his family.
He wants to live with his neighbours.
He wants to be a good human being.
But instead of receiving a simple and compassionate message of faith, he is sometimes drawn into arguments that have little relevance to the immediate problems confronting his family and society.
The purpose of religious knowledge
Religious knowledge should elevate human beings.
It should make us more honest, more compassionate, more patient and more conscious of our responsibilities towards others.
Knowledge that increases arrogance has failed its purpose.
Knowledge that produces hatred has failed its purpose.
And knowledge that makes one person look down upon another should make the scholar himself pause and ask whether the message has been understood correctly.
The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ taught that a Muslim should not oppress, abandon, humiliate or despise another Muslim and urged believers to live as brothers.
He also taught that a person does not truly believe until he wishes for his brother or neighbour what he wishes for himself.
These teachings leave little room for a culture in which religious disagreement becomes personal hatred.
From the madrasa to the marketplace
There is another issue that deserves serious consideration: the relationship between religious education and practical life.
There is a historical tradition of Islamic learning in which religious knowledge was not necessarily separated from useful worldly skills, craftsmanship, trade and self-reliance. Muslim civilisation produced scholars who were also physicians, mathematicians, astronomers, philosophers, traders and administrators.
An important lesson can be drawn from this broader tradition: education should empower a person rather than make him permanently dependent upon others.
The principle itself, however, deserves attention.
Our madrasas should produce people who understand religion deeply but can also contribute meaningfully to society. A student who learns Qur’an and Hadith should also be encouraged, wherever appropriate, to acquire skills in teaching, technology, agriculture, medicine, business, social work, communication or another profession.
Religious knowledge should become a source of service—not merely a means of livelihood or social influence.
When the pulpit becomes a battlefield
The arrival of social media has made the situation more complicated.
A disagreement that once remained within a small circle can now reach thousands of people within minutes.
A speech can be recorded.
A short clip can be circulated.
A statement can be taken out of context.
A religious opinion can become a weapon against another group.
And sometimes a fatwa or religious condemnation is discussed publicly before the people have even understood the issue properly.
This is dangerous.
The pulpit has moral authority. Social media has enormous reach. When the two combine without wisdom and restraint, the consequences can be serious.
A scholar must therefore ask before speaking:
Will my words bring people closer to Allah—or closer to hatred?
Will they resolve a dispute—or create ten new disputes?
Will a young listener become more compassionate—or more hostile?
Will my statement strengthen the Ummah—or strengthen a sectarian boundary?
These questions are not signs of weakness. They are signs of responsibility.
The chair should not become more important than the message
There is another uncomfortable issue that we must discuss honestly.
Religious leadership should never become a struggle for position, influence, followers or institutional control.
If a scholar becomes afraid that unity will reduce his influence, or that cooperation with another scholar will weaken his own following, then something has gone seriously wrong.
The Prophet’s message was not about creating permanent camps of followers around personalities. It was about creating a community bound by faith, justice, mercy and mutual responsibility.
A religious leader should be willing to say, “We disagree on this matter, but we are still brothers.”
That sentence could heal wounds that years of arguments have deepened.
Do we really need to add religious hostility to the burden?
Our young people are already facing unemployment, addiction, educational pressure and uncertainty about the future. Families are struggling with economic difficulties. Children are increasingly exposed to social-media conflicts.
At such a time, they need religious scholars who can teach them hope, character, knowledge, discipline and compassion.
They do not need another reason to hate their neighbour.
They need to hear that disagreement does not require hatred.
They need to learn that another person’s identity does not make him their enemy.
They need to understand that Islam is not merely a collection of arguments about other Muslims; it is also a responsibility towards parents, neighbours, the poor, the orphan, the weak and society as a whole.
It is time to reform ourselves
Perhaps the most important word in this entire discussion is “ourselves.”
We cannot demand reform from others while refusing to examine our own conduct.
This appeal is therefore not directed only at Ulama.
It is directed at all of us.
Scholars must examine the language used from the pulpit.
And ordinary believers must stop treating every disagreement as a battle between good and evil.
We need scholars who can sit together despite differences.
And we need a religious culture in which saying “I may be wrong” is not considered weakness.
The Ummah needs bridges, not walls
The Qur’anic call to unity is not an abstract idea. It is a social responsibility. The Qur’an reminds believers of how Allah transformed former hostility into brotherhood and warns against division.
The Prophet ﷺ likewise placed enormous importance on brotherhood, mutual respect and wishing good for others.
Therefore, if our religious discourse produces hatred, contempt and permanent hostility, we must have the courage to ask whether we have moved away from the spirit of the message.
Islam does not need louder voices; it needs wiser voices.
Kashmir does not need more religious walls.
It needs bridges.
It needs scholars who can remind us that before we are members of different schools, we share a common faith and a common human responsibility.
Let our mosques become places of spiritual comfort not battle fields
Let our madrasas become centres of knowledge and skills.
Let our pulpits become platforms for moral courage.
Let our scholars compete not for followers, but in service to society.
Because the greatest victory for a religious scholar is not to defeat another scholar in an argument. It is to bring two divided hearts closer together.
Perhaps this is the reform Kashmir needs today.
Not a new sect.
Not another argument.
Not another fatwa against one another.
But a return to the simple message of faith: unity without uniformity, disagreement without hatred, knowledge without arrogance, and religion expressed through mercy and service.
The Ummah does not need more people asking, “Which side are you on?”
It needs more people asking:
“What can I do to bring us together?”
Email: paryazdot11@gamil.com
