Not long ago, during a visit to Colombo—the capital of Sri Lanka, once known to Arabs as Serendib—I wandered through its streets and countryside on my way to its green havens, Kandy and Nuwara Eliya. I stopped at what locals call the city’s “book street,” reminiscent of Baghdad’s
Al Mutanabbi Street or Cairo’s Al Attaba. As I browsed the crowded stalls, I felt both familiarity and distance. Earlier journeys from Mumbai to Hanoi had revealed cultures rich in philosophy, art and wisdom—worlds close to us, yet strangely overlooked, while our gaze remains fixed on the distant West.
This is not a call to close ourselves off; every civilisation holds its own beauty. Yet we once shared deep connections with these eastern nations through trade, language, faith, dress and food. Standing among the bookstalls, I recalled a note I had written that day: “In Colombo’s street of old books, one senses the wisdom of the Indus Valley—India, Nepal, Sri Lanka, Bhutan, Bangladesh, Pakistan and the Maldives.
Despite hardship and political tension, the region carries a spiritual and intellectual legacy of great depth. It sustains a diverse coexistence of faiths and philosophies, while its universities lead in science and technology. Yet we Arabs still know little of its knowledge, though it lies close to us in geography, history and culture.”
I noticed that many books were in English but written by local authors—monks, scholars and writers reflecting on their inner and cultural experiences. There lies a world of ideas near to us but rarely explored. We often understand these cultures through Western lenses rather than their own voices, just as others once understood us only through Orientalist writings. This distance must end. These societies share with us much of our past, our struggles and even our sensibilities. We should therefore establish university departments and research centres focused on studying the East, translating its essential works, and engaging with its intellectual heritage—not merely through tourism or transient politics.
This is not to exclude the rest of the world. True openness means embracing all knowledge, but we should stop being passive consumers of what others write. The Arab world often recycles rather than produces knowledge, rearranging Western theories within old frameworks. Translation and interpretation are valuable, but they must lead to discovery. We need to explore nearby intellectual worlds that remain outside our view.
Such exploration cannot thrive in fragmented or ideologically constrained environments. Knowledge grows only in spaces that allow freedom and diversity of thought. In the Maghreb, research has advanced but suffers from limited resources; in the East, resources exist but independence is often lacking. Knowledge, however, recognises no borders—geographic, political or religious. Our shared heritage calls for joint cultural institutions that focus on creative production, not endless repetition.
The spread of intolerance towards difference, fear of openness, and shallow understanding of “the other” all result from the absence of such intellectual spaces. In their place rise rigid voices claiming absolute truth, manipulating ignorance and emotion. What begins as individual extremism soon becomes collective conviction, stifling scholarship and isolating society from its surroundings.
The result is a region hesitant to explore and fearful of dialogue, content to live within its own echo chambers while the world grows ever more connected. The east that once exchanged goods, ideas and poetry with us now stands before us, waiting to be rediscovered. Its philosophies of balance, its reflections on humanity and nature, and its traditions of coexistence offer valuable lessons at a time when division dominates global discourse.
We do not need to imitate these societies, but to learn from their paths and share with them our own. The rediscovery of the east is not nostalgia—it is a step towards recovering our intellectual vitality and our ability to engage the world on equal terms. To know the world, we must look not only westward but also towards the rising light of the east, where echoes of our own story still live.
Translated by Badr al Dhafari
The original version of this article was published in Oman Arabic newspaper on October 29, 2025.
Badr al Abri
Al Abri is a writer and researcher in philosophy and cultural thought
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