There was a time when the Arab world was the pulse of global intellectual life, a time when the fragrance of ink and parchment filled the streets of Cairo, Baghdad, Damascus, and Fez. In those golden centuries, books were as common as bread and public debate was as essential as air. Scholars and poets roamed the streets, from the alleyways of Bab al Muazzam in Baghdad, where book stalls lined every corner to the cafés of Cairo, where voices like Taha Hussein’s challenged and inspired generations.
The past is rich with names whose thoughts still ripple across time. Taha Hussein of Egypt, known as “The Dean of Arabic Literature,” dared to question tradition and illuminate new paths for critical thought and humanism. He believed in the liberation of the mind, urging Arabs to move from mere imitation to creative innovation. His intellectual descendants, in spirit if not in name, were many.
In Iraq, Ali al Wardi dissected the social and psychological contradictions of his society, refusing to whitewash reality for the comfort of his readers. His work laid bare the structural ailments of Arab societies and called for honest self-reflection, a rare commodity in any era.
From Algeria, Malek Bennabi gave us the powerful concept of “colonisability,” warning that true subjugation came from within when minds accepted passivity and fatalism. Bennabi’s call was not simply for political liberation, but for a reawakening of the Arab intellectual spirit, a return to critical engagement with self and society.
In Morocco, Mohammed Abed al Jabri spent a lifetime questioning the inherited structures of Arab reason, seeking to reconcile tradition with the demands of modernity. His Critique of Arab Reason is still cited in contemporary debates about reform, democracy, and identity.
Sudan’s Abdullahi Ahmed An Na’im brought the conversation to the global stage, using his scholarship to bridge gaps between Islamic tradition and universal human rights. He insisted that real reform required intellectual courage and a willingness to confront both external prejudices and internal dogmas.
From Jordan, Nasr Abu Zayd’s fearless reinterpretation of religious texts led to his exile, yet he remained a symbol of the quest for intellectual freedom and the right to independent thought.
Yet today, when we search for the Arab intellect, our gaze is often met with silence or at best, with whispers drowned by the noise of political conflict, economic anxiety, and the proliferation of shallow mass entertainment.
The bookstalls of Bab al Muazzam are fewer now, and the once vibrant debates in cafés and lecture halls have been replaced by self-censorship or silence. What happened to that legendary era when even the common people prided themselves on their engagement with ideas and literature? Have we forgotten that Baghdad’s streets were paved with books, and that every scholar was a beacon of possibility for his or her community?
The Arab intellect today exists in a state of tension. In some spaces, it is positive resilient writers, artists, and thinkers continue to resist and inspire, often at great personal cost. Their work may circulate online, in exile, or in the underground circles of major cities. However, the obstacles are immense. In many of the regions, regimes view independent thought with suspicion, if not hostility. Sectarianism, social polarisation, and the persistent threat of violence or marginalisation often force intellectuals into a position of neutrality or reluctant withdrawal.
Some voices have gone quiet; others have been silenced or forced into exile. The rare boldness of figures like Taha Hussein or Nasr Abu Zayd stands in stark contrast to the atmosphere prevailing today. Where once Arab thinkers helped shape the world translating and expanding on the knowledge of Persians, Greeks, and Indians, while later sending their own innovations westward their successors often found themselves isolated, unheard in their own lands, or forced to seek audiences abroad.
Internationally, the Arab intellectual class faces a difficult positioning. While nations elsewhere celebrate their thinkers, and while dialogue and scientific achievement are encouraged as pillars of progress, the Arab world’s brightest minds often find their wings clipped by political and cultural constraints.
The loss is not only personal, but civilisational; when critical thought is suppressed, the whole society stagnates.
So, where is the Arab intellect? The truth is, it is everywhere, yet nowhere visible enough. It persists in quiet acts of courage, in the teacher who inspires her students to ask questions, in the writer who dares to challenge the boundaries of thought, in the exile who refuses to forget his language and his legacy.
But for the Arab intellect to reclaim its place among the world’s leading forces, there must be a cultural renewal, a revival of curiosity, debate, and the open contest of ideas. We must remember the glory of those streets where books and arguments were the measure of a city’s greatness.
Perhaps the new renaissance will not look like the old, but the spirit can return. The Arab intellect, though battered, is not extinguished. Its renewal lies in our willingness to question, to seek, and to dream again.
Mohammed Anwar Al Balushi, The author is with Middle East College
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