MARGINALIA: Verify Before You Share

DAVAO CITY (MindaNews / 16 July) — Twelve days.

That’s how long the recent imposed war by the Zionist entity and the United States against the Islamic Republic of Iran has raged—twelve days of missiles and mayhem, but also of memes and manipulated media.

And even now, the fog of (mis)war lingers not only in the skies of West Asia but more insidiously in our social media timelines. Artificially generated images of explosions that never happened. Deepfake videos of leaders saying what they never said. And, most bizarrely, AI-cloned voices of well-known Islamic preachers—Mufti Menk included—allegedly singing praises for one side of the war. A reel of emotional manipulation, circulated by some with gleeful intent, and by others—perhaps the majority—in innocent, if not excitable, gullibility.

It’s a phenomenon not unfamiliar to the digital age. But for Muslims, it poses a deeper question:

How should one behave in the face of this avalanche of misinformation and disinformation?

The Qur’an is unequivocal:

“O you who believe! If a wicked person comes to you with news, verify it, lest you harm people in ignorance and then regret what you have done.” (Qur’an 49:6)

This verse is not a casual reminder. It is a warning, a moral imperative. It tells us that even in times of heated conflict—especially in such times—we are not excused from the duty of tathabbut (verification).

The Islamic tradition (ḥadīth) has long institutionalized this value. The ‘ilm al-rijāl (science of narrators) and dirāyat al-ḥadīth (science of ḥadīth content analysis) were developed not just as academic exercises but as safeguards of truth. The former scrutinized the sanad—the chain of transmission—while the latter probed the matn, the content itself.

Yet the tradition also warned against blind reliance on sanad alone. Ibn Khaldūn, in his magnum opus Al-Muqaddimah, delivered a scathing critique of those who cling to narration without reason. Citing the oft-repeated tale that 250,000 Israelites marched with Moses across the sea, he questioned its plausibility. Could such a number emerge from the progeny of a single man, within five to six generations, while enduring Pharaoh’s campaign of male infanticide?

His verdict? Mere transmission is not enough. Reason must accompany revelation. Rational scrutiny must walk alongside spiritual belief.

Centuries later, Murtadā Muṭahharī echoed this concern in his book Training and Education in Islam. Reflecting on the tragic incident of Harrah—the pillaging of Madīnah by the Umayyad army—Muṭahharī recounts a disturbing story he had read: a soldier raping a woman who had just delivered a child, and who claimed to have pledged allegiance to the Prophet at Bay‘at al-Riḍwān. He paused to ask: could a woman in her sixties, or even late sixties, give birth?

Here, he offers the reader an insight deeper than chronology: “For the ignorance of man, it is sufficient that he relays whatever he hears.” A ḥadīth with searing contemporary relevance.

In his treatise, Muṭahharī draws a line between jahl (ignorance) and the mere absence of knowledge. Jahl, he says, is not lack of information—it is the refusal to think, the suspension of reason, the bypassing of ‘aql. The ignorant is not always uninformed. Sometimes, he is just unreflective.

And in today’s world of viral content, retweets, and TikToks, jahl has found a megaphone.

So, what do we make of all this—the cloned voices, the dramatic AI-rendered warzone videos, the seductive blend of emotion and fabrication?

First, we must acknowledge the pull of our desires. As humans, it is natural to get excited when something appears to affirm our beliefs. We want our side to be righteous, victorious, even miraculously so. And yet, as Muslims, our allegiance is not merely to any “side” but to truth (ḥaqq). Truth, even when inconvenient. Truth, even when less viral.

Second, we must cultivate digital taqwā—God-consciousness online. Before forwarding a video, sharing an image, quoting a news snippet, ask: Is this verified? Is it rational? Is it fair?

Finally, we must revive the ethical disciplines of our own tradition: to examine BOTH the messenger and the message.

Indeed, in this age of deepfakes, what we need is deep faith—faith that demands reason, reflection, and responsibility.

Let us not become, as Ibn Khaldūn warned, collectors of chains without comprehension.

Let us not be, as Muṭahharī cautioned, narrators of nonsense clothed in the garb of religiosity.

In the end, it is not just our posts that are being weighed, but our principles.

#VerifyBeforeYouShare #DigitalTaqwa #IslamicEthicsOnline #FikrBeforeClick #TruthOverTribe #MansoorLimba

[MindaViews is the opinion section of MindaNews. Mansoor L. Limba, PhD in International Relations and Shari‘ah Counselor-at-Law (SCL), is a publisher-writer, university professor, vlogger, chess trainer, and translator (from Persian into English and Filipino) with tens of written and translation works to his credit on such subjects as international politics, history, political philosophy, intra-faith and interfaith relations, cultural heritage, Islamic finance, jurisprudence (fiqh), theology (‘ilm al-kalam), Qur’anic sciences and exegesis (tafsir), hadith, ethics, and mysticism. He can be reached at mlimba@diplomats.com and www.youtube.com/@WayfaringWithMansoor, and his books can be purchased at www.elzistyle.com and www.amazon.com/author/mansoorlimba.]