Sead Makaars of Kashmir: When status eclipses service and sincerity

As public life becomes increasingly performative, the greatest measure of leadership remains the willingness to serve without seeking the spotlight

A few months ago, I approached a well-known public figure, someone admired across society for charitable work and closely associated with several not-for-profit initiatives. His presence was almost guaranteed wherever there was a ribbon to cut, an inauguration to attend or a stage to occupy. Believing that his reputation reflected a genuine commitment to service, I invited him to support an initiative for cancer patients.

His response left me speechless.

He politely declined, saying, “My level is very high. Unless I am the chief guest, I do not attend such programmes.”

Whether those were his exact words or not is no longer important. The message was unmistakable. Service had become secondary to status.

That brief encounter stayed with me far longer than I expected because it captured a painful reality that extends well beyond one individual. It reflected a culture in which recognition often matters more than responsibility, visibility more than values, and prestige more than purpose.

In Kashmir, we have an old expression: Sead Makaars. The phrase is familiar to many, describing those whose outward appearance commands admiration while their conduct tells a very different story. It is not merely about deception. It is about the subtle art of appearing virtuous without embracing the sacrifices that genuine virtue demands.

One of the most difficult realities of life is discovering that not everyone who smiles at you is your well-wisher. Age, experience and repeated encounters with people eventually teach lessons that books rarely do. Disagreement seldom hurts as much as duplicity.

Disagreement is healthy. It sharpens ideas, exposes blind spots and prevents complacency. Every institution, family and society grows when people can express honest opinions without fear. Duplicity, however, is different. It is saying one thing to your face, another behind your back and yet another before someone else. It is agreeing in private but distancing oneself in public. It is applauding principles when convenient and abandoning them when they become costly.

Nothing destroys trust more quietly.

Perhaps this explains why trust has become one of the rarest commodities of our time. We live in an age where appearances often matter more than authenticity, networking more than relationships and optics more than integrity. Social media has only amplified this tendency. Public praise is abundant, while private criticism is relentless. Many have become skilled at telling each audience exactly what it wishes to hear instead of speaking what they genuinely believe.

The tragedy is not merely personal. It affects charitable institutions, professional organisations, businesses, families and public life itself. Decisions become driven by personalities instead of principles. Honest feedback is mistaken for hostility. Constructive criticism is viewed as rebellion. Gradually, people stop speaking the truth, not because they have nothing to say, but because they fear the consequences of saying it.

History reminds us repeatedly that organisations rarely collapse because they lack talented people. They decline when leaders surround themselves with individuals who tell them only what they wish to hear. An echo chamber is comforting, but it is rarely productive. Progress demands honest conversations rather than convenient applause.

The Qur’an repeatedly commands believers to stand firmly for justice and truth, even when it is against themselves or those closest to them. Truthfulness is not merely a virtue. It is a responsibility. Likewise, the Prophet ﷺ warned against hypocrisy in speech and conduct. Integrity is measured by consistency, when our private conversations match our public positions.

This does not mean every disagreement should be voiced harshly. Islam teaches wisdom alongside truth. Advice should be sincere, respectful and intended for reform rather than humiliation. Yet wisdom should never become an excuse for silence in the face of wrong, nor diplomacy a cover for double standards.

Over decades of professional and social interactions, I have reached a simple conclusion. Words alone are unreliable indicators of character. Watch consistency instead. Observe how people behave when there is nothing to gain. Notice whether they defend the same principle regardless of who is listening. Character is revealed over time, not in carefully crafted speeches or well-publicised appearances.

Does this mean we should become suspicious of everyone? Certainly not. Excessive suspicion poisons relationships and burdens the heart. The challenge is to remain trusting without becoming naïve, kind without becoming gullible and open-hearted without surrendering discernment.

How then do we cope with duplicity without becoming bitter?

We begin by reducing expectations. Many disappointments arise because we expect others to live by the standards we set for ourselves. Not everyone values honesty equally.

Judge actions more than words. Promises are inexpensive. Consistency is costly. Observe patterns rather than isolated incidents.

Never build your emotional stability upon the approval of people. Public opinion changes quickly. The same voices that praise today may criticise tomorrow. If your peace depends upon applause, your happiness will always remain fragile.

Learn to distinguish between criticism and malice. Genuine critics often become our greatest teachers. Flatterers may become our greatest liabilities. A person who respectfully disagrees may value you more than one who agrees with everything you say.

Choose your circle carefully. Trust should be earned gradually through honesty, reliability, confidentiality and consistency. Islam encourages husn al-zann, maintaining a good opinion of others, but never asks us to ignore repeated evidence of unreliability.

Most importantly, protect your own integrity. It is easy to condemn hypocrisy while unknowingly practising subtle forms of it ourselves. Do our private conversations reflect our public statements? Do we speak differently depending upon who is present? Self-accountability is the beginning of reform.

Some people will disappoint us despite our best intentions. Dwelling upon betrayal only grants them continued influence over our lives. Every painful experience can either make us cynical or make us wiser. The choice remains ours.

Perhaps that is why I increasingly value work done quietly, without fanfare or ceremony. True service rarely demands the front row, the microphone or the ribbon to cut. It asks only one question: How can I help?

Ultimately, trust should never rest entirely upon human beings. People are fallible. Circumstances change. Interests shift. Only Allah remains constant. The more firmly we anchor our hearts in Him, the less devastated we become by the inconsistencies of people.

We cannot control another person’s sincerity, but we can preserve our own. We cannot eliminate hypocrisy from society, but we can refuse to contribute to it.

Every generation laments the moral decline of its time. Yet every generation also possesses the opportunity to reverse that decline through one truthful conversation, one principled decision, one fulfilled promise and one quiet act of service performed without expectation of recognition.

In the end, the question is not merely whom we can trust. The more searching question is whether others can trust us.

May Allah make us people whose words match our deeds, whose public image reflects our private character and whose loyalty remains with truth rather than convenience.

اللهم أرنا الحق حقًا وارزقنا اتباعه، وأرنا الباطل باطلًا وارزقنا اجتنابه.

“O Allah, show us the truth as truth and grant us the ability to follow it. Show us falsehood as falsehood and grant us the ability to avoid it.”