The Quest for Excellence

Very often, students of knowledge explore the divergent worldviews of Islam and the modern West; equally often, they discover that the two are distinct in the ways they perceive reality, their perceptions differing in essence and spirit even where superficial similarities appear in form and expression. While the ordinary observer may remain content with outward commonalities, deeper thinkers seek to examine matters at a microscopic level.

When we hear the word 'excellence', what instantly comes to mind? Perhaps someone like Einstein or Newton, each of whom attained excellence in his field of knowledge. In this conception, excellence measures a person's brilliance, competence, ability, skill, acumen, intelligence, and intellect, cultivated through many years of hard work. The principal reliance is upon an agile mind and intellectual development in general. Here, hard work signifies mental exertion. Excellence is regarded not as a means towards an end, but as an end in itself.

The Qur'an and Hadith repeatedly emphasize excellence in human conduct. The Arabic word commonly invoked is ihsan. But how, in the first place, does Islam define excellence? One cannot discuss this question without mentioning the celebrated narration known as Hadith-e-Jibril. The Prophet ﷺ said, "It is to worship Allah as though you see Him, and though you do not see Him, He sees you" (Sahih Muslim 8a; see also Sahih al-Bukhari 50).

Here, excellence is a spiritual quality, measured primarily by the depth, sincerity, and authenticity of the relationship between the human being and Allah-a relationship that culminates in the consciousness of divine witnessing during worship. It would not be an exaggeration to say that the vast succession of prophets-traditionally reported as 124,000, although the exact number is not established by an unequivocally authentic narration-and innumerable saints devoted their lives to teaching humanity this meaning of excellence. The entire disciplines of Sufism and tariqah developed to cultivate such excellence among believers.

What are the ingredients of ihsan? They include unconditional devotion, selflessness, intense love, profound humility, inward purification, spiritual elevation, moral and ethical greatness, and many other virtues. The reliance is upon purified hearts and the cultivation of the soul. Here, hard work signifies spiritual exertion. Excellence is only a means towards the ultimate end: Allah's proximity and pleasure, without which the entire pursuit becomes futile.

Does this mean that Islam does not emphasize the meaning and practice of excellence in its familiar worldly sense? Not at all. Islam presents a hierarchy of objectives in which ihsan is the spiritual foundation of brilliance and competence, because, without purity of intention, excellence cannot lead to an elevated station in the sight of Allah. Once this foundation is secured, the disciplined acquisition of ability, skill, intellect, and acumen becomes a natural religious imperative. We may therefore describe ihsan as the vertical dimension of excellence-the relationship between the human being and Allah-while brilliance and competence constitute its horizontal dimension: the relationship between one human being and another.

The Prophet ﷺ and his blessed Companions brought about one of history's most consequential transformations within an extraordinarily brief span because they embodied both the vertical and horizontal dimensions in their fullest sense. Today, the Muslim world struggles because it is deficient in both dimensions.

The secret is that, when one pursues brilliance alone, one may or may not attain it; but when one sincerely pursues spiritual excellence, one may receive both brilliance and spirituality as an integrated gift. The second Caliph of Islam, Umar RZA, did not study at Harvard or MIT. Formal education in seventh-century Arabia bore little resemblance to the institutional systems familiar today. As he pursued Allah's pleasure, Allah bestowed upon him such brilliance and competence that he pioneered numerous practices and initiatives in leadership, governance, management, and administration, collectively discussed in Islamic historical literature as the Awwaliyyat-the "Firsts"-of Umar.

This was the fruit of his being among the brightest students of the greatest teacher in history-the Prophet of Islam ﷺ-who himself received no formal schooling or literacy in the conventional human sense. The Arabic word ummi means unlettered.

Similarly, the Qur'an became the fountainhead of one of history's richest and most vibrant civilizations, within which brilliance and spirituality were not sharply separated. The Islamic Golden Age produced eminent scholars, polymaths, scientists, philosophers, jurists, writers, and poets who were intellectuals by day and saints by night. They were all-rounders who sought to compromise neither taqwa-God-consciousness-nor human brilliance.

The Sufis left no stone unturned in honouring both the vertical and horizontal dimensions, and some of history's greatest works-including Rumi's Mathnawi and Fariduddin Attar's The Conference of the Birds-were fruits of sainthood (wilayat). One might wonder why. It is because, in the classical Islamic tradition, true knowledge was understood as learning that nourished the mind, heart, and soul. Consequently, those scholars not only made history within time and space, but also sought an exalted rank in the sight of Allah. Their success was twofold: it left a profound impact upon humanity while also serving their salvation in the Hereafter.

A few months ago, this humble servant of Islam contributed "A Manifesto for the Muslim World": https://islamicity.org/106716/a-manifesto-for-the-muslim-world/. The manifesto was written with the dual purpose of cultivating intellect and spirituality as understood within the Islamic tradition. Serious thinkers, spiritual seekers, and ordinary readers alike may resonate with the piece.

I would also like to take this opportunity to pay tribute to a giant who passed away recently: Professor Syed Muhammad Naquib al-Attas, the founder and first director of the International Institute of Islamic Thought and Civilization (ISTAC), now part of the International Islamic University Malaysia. I consider him Malaysia's counterpart to Sir Muhammad Iqbal, while recognizing two important distinctions. Iqbal addressed a broad public, whereas Professor al-Attas wrote principally as a rigorous academic. Most of Iqbal's celebrated work is poetry, whereas Professor al-Attas's body of work is predominantly prose.

If we compare Iqbal's prose work The Reconstruction of Religious Thought in Islam with Professor al-Attas's Islam and Secularism, we find important affinities in their ambition, intention, and scope, despite readily apparent differences in content. Although their voices differ, both books prepare students of knowledge for the project of examining modern knowledge through a critical Muslim lens.

Both books act as catalysts for renewal rather than as invitations to retreat into the past, because they were written by thinkers who devoted themselves to forming an intellectual lens through excellence in both the worldly and religious senses. In their work, the fruits affirm the roots.

As a young man, Muhammad Ali Jinnah was a lawyer and politician of exceptional brilliance. During that period, spirituality was not publicly prominent in his life. Yet Allah works through mysteries beyond our comprehension to fulfil His plan. In the providential reading cherished by many believers, Allah had chosen him to lead the struggle that culminated in the creation of Pakistan. According to a later devotional account attributed to Allama Shabbir Ahmad Usmani, Jinnah said that, while in England, he experienced a dream in which the Prophet ﷺ directed him to return to India and advance his political struggle; this report should be treated as a faith-based recollection rather than an independently established historical fact. Within that account, the spiritual experience deepened his conviction that unity, faith, and discipline could make the apparently impossible attainable. The rest is history. Brilliance alone, in this interpretation, could not have achieved those results. Spirituality was the fuel behind the fire.

If we confine ourselves to the "politics" of knowledge rather than party politics, spirituality polishes and illumines the mirror of the heart until it becomes receptive to divine favour and grace in the form of higher knowledge-knowledge that cannot be acquired through scholastic endeavour alone, but is, according to the mystical tradition, divinely bestowed through spiritual discipline. There is a reason why the vast corpus of Islamic jurisprudence (fiqh) associated with Imam Abu Hanifa, Imam Ja'far al-Sadiq, Imam Malik, Imam al-Shafi'i, and Imam Ahmad ibn Hanbal, produced or transmitted many centuries ago, continues to illuminate the Muslim world in 2026. Its enduring influence is not merely the product of a cult following or personality worship, but a testimony to greatness embodied.

When Iqbal wrote his celebrated verses on selfhood (khudi), he had grasped the secret that Muslims could not rise above their decline through the pursuit of brilliance alone. Although his own life manifested brilliance in the worldly sense, he sought the spiritual station of selfhood as a thinker deeply influenced by saints, especially Rumi. Throughout his writings, he repeatedly paid tribute to Muslim saints of the past. This union of brilliance and spirituality is also reflected in the works of the late Wasif Ali Wasif, whose renown and recognition among both general readers and scholars have continued to grow since his death.

A beautiful supplication that we may make after every offering of salah (the obligatory prayer) is:

"O Allah, sharpen my mind, purify my heart, elevate my soul, cleanse my gaze, and enrich my thought, so that I may become worthy of wearing the mantle of Your vicegerency and of serving Your will upon the earth."

Ameen!