| W |
e are a society that claims to have answers to every question. As a result, the act of raising a new question barely exists in our intellectual framework. Even our educational training is designed to promote formulaic questions that elicit pre-packaged, predictable answers.
Yet the act of questioning should never be exhausted of its potential to generate new meaning or discovery, even if we revisit the same themes. For example, what should an ideal state or society look like? This question has given birth to entire schools of philosophical and political thought. One of the hallmarks of a great society is its ability to raise questions and its capacity to interrogate the dominant questions. This process opens up new ways of imagining and rethinking the world.
Formulating a cogent question is an arduous intellectual task. Many find it far easier to accept a given answer than to wrestle with the uncertainty of inquiry. In our context, the social role and intellectual potential of the question remains unexplored, primarily because of our mental habit of settling for ready-made responses. Our engagement with questions is not a lifelong pursuit or labour of love, but as a short-lived formality.
Even in academic and intellectual domains, we remain preoccupied with surface-level questions such as, “What are the sources of knowledge?” While structurally valid, such questions have deeper epistemological implications, especially in the age of information and social media. The rise of digital platforms has polarised society to the extent that it now risks fragmenting beyond recognition. In this environment, people no longer see the full picture; instead, they focus on fragments that reinforce their ideological biases.
The human mind is wired to develop a broader perspective by breaking free from its subjective cocoon and reaching out to society and the universe. In doing so, we fill the gaps in our understanding. However, the broadening of horizons has been stunted in the contemporary society, which is increasingly settled into the comfort of opinion, especially on reels and short-form content.
As a result, communication today is no longer about meaningful interface but about reacting and responding, often without listening or understanding. A dialogue cannot begin if we carry ready-made answers and assumptions about the interlocutor before the conversation even starts. In a genuine dialogue and the act of listening, we internalise what we receive, reflect on it and then respond.
In contrast, a reactionary and opinion-driven exchange, enabled by digital icons of instant reaction, eliminates the space for reflection. Reaction replaces reflection. Consequently, we are full of judgment but devoid of understanding. As Carl Jung observed, “Thinking is difficult, that’s why most people judge.” It is no coincidence that social media platforms offer every kind of reaction – like, angry, care, haha, wow, love, sad – but not a single icon for reflection.
A glance at social media in Pakistan reveals a landscape teeming with arguments, disputes and polemical debates. These are often driven by one-sided premises and entrenched presumptions. As a result, we remain blind to the larger dimensions of life and the universe. This mindset breeds a one-dimensional view of complex, multi-faceted phenomena. We attempt to construct the entire edifice of knowledge on the narrow base of a singular perspective.
In our fixation with the sources of knowledge, we often forget to examine the sources of ignorance, which sometimes masquerade as knowledge. This is precisely why Karl Popper, in his essay On the Sources of Knowledge and of Ignorance, explores the origins of ignorance before addressing those of knowledge. He writes: “The traditional systems of epistemology may be said to result from yes-answers and no-answers to questions about the sources of our knowledge. They never challenge these questions or dispute their legitimacy; the questions are taken as perfectly natural, and nobody seems to see any harm in them. This is quite interesting, for these questions are clearly authoritarian in spirit.”
The posts and podcasts on social media, as well as debates on national television, reveal a troubling trend: we wag our tongues too readily, without engaging our cognitive faculties. This habit is no longer confined to the digital realm – it has seeped into formal communication at the highest levels of power.
We try to illuminate others with the light of our knowledge before realising the darkness of ignorance within.
After the killing of five Chinese citizens in a terrorist attack in Besham on March 26, 2024, several ministers and government officials appeared in the media to explain the incident. However, each gave a different account. This reportedly exasperated Chinese authorities so much that they were compelled to state that in Pakistan, too many tongues wag without any regard for facts.
This episode reflects a broad problem: the instinct to speak has eclipsed the need to know. We rush to enlighten others with the glow of our knowledge before recognising the shadows of ignorance within ourselves. This mental state appears to stem from what Karl Popper describes as false epistemology – a flawed framework that shapes both our thinking and our experience.
A mind under the influence of false epistemology believes that truth is self-evident and available for all to see. However, it also believes that one must wear the lens of a particular theory or school of thought in order to truly perceive that truth. Popper viewed such an approach as the root of nearly every form of fanaticism. False epistemology not only distorts knowledge but also frames perspectives and, in doing so, moulds personalities.
In this context, it is essential to explore the processes that contribute to the construction of false epistemologies, so that we may identify the sources of ignorance – and the fanaticism it often produces. To do this, I will examine various intellectual frameworks and schools of thought that shape popular discourse.
In this essay, and in the forthcoming series of articles, I will critically analyse the epistemological stances of atheism, socialism/ communism, liberalism and religion in Pakistan. By doing so, we may begin to chart the diverse sources of our ignorance.
We begin with atheism.
In the specific social and cultural habitus of Pakistan, it has become fashionable to focus on religion as the primary source of ignorance. With the rise of social media, Pakistani atheists have made their presence increasingly visible.
It is important to distinguish between intellectuals with an atheistic bent who contributed to scholarly debates before the advent of social media and those whose presence is largely digital. The older cohort did not vanish with the arrival of social media. When they do engage online, they do so with the weight of research and academic grounding in their respective disciplines. In short, when a scholar speaks, it is from a foundation of subject knowledge and critical inquiry.
Then there is a new cadre of social media atheists who have no scholarly contribution in any field. It is a case of tongues wagging without the involvement of the mind.
Many social media atheists claim that once religion is renounced, reality will automatically reveal itself and immense creative and intellectual energy will be unleashed. They believe that this energy has been stifled by religion. While it is true that religion has often played a role in suppressing free thought and expression in Pakistan, assuming that merely abandoning religion will lead to instant enlightenment and scientific understanding – without any intellectual effort – is, to borrow from Shakespeare, a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
If religiosity in Pakistan is often represented by unworthy people, so is atheism. Becoming a scientist or scholar demands rigorous intellectual training. One must spend time in libraries or laboratories to make a meaningful contribution to human knowledge. This objective cannot be achieved by engaging in endless video debates over trivialities.
The Pakistani version of social media atheism is heavily dependent on theism. An analysis of posts and podcasts by digital atheists reveals that most of their content – statuses, statements, podcasts – is reactionary in nature. They are responding almost exclusively to religious ideas and events.
Tariq Fateh’s initial disdain for religion, for instance, gradually evolved into a focused antagonism towards Islam. This made him a favourite among supporters of the Hindutva ideology, particularly the RSS. Following his death, glowing tribute were paid to him by the RSS, highlighting the one-sided nature of his opposition to religion.
In effect, even the critique of religion in Pakistan is often narrowly targeted. Religion, in this context, is the raw material that fuels the reactionary intellectualism of many ‘atheists.’ It is therefore not inaccurate to say that, although religion and atheism might appear to be mutually exclusive forces, in Pakistan, they are, in fact, structurally interdependent.
If apostates were to disappear, the clergy could lose both their relevance and the impetus for issuing fatwas. Similarly, if religion were to vanish, many Pakistani atheists would lose their raison d’être. In this sense, atheists, like the religious, are often unaware of the darkness that resides within. It is this unexamined inner space – the absence of self-awareness – that constitutes a core source of ignorance among atheists in Pakistan.
The writer is interested in the history of ideas and authored the bookNomadic Meditations: Wandering in the History of Ideas.He may be reached at azizalidadgmail.com