Between Soundness and Truthfulness
The evening was pleasant, the air still, save for a gentle breeze slipping through the windows of the sitting room, brushing our faces, and instilling in the soul a sense of calm. We, a small group of companions, had gathered in that old room to which we would retreat whenever the busyness of the day pressed upon us, or the harshness of life wearied us.
There was no conversation at first, only broken whispers and the soft hum of passing traffic outside. Then the murmurs fell silent, and a hush settled, as if awaiting a word to be spoken.
One of them, the wittiest among us and the most given to questioning, turned to me and asked, “What is the news?” I smiled, knowing well that he was not inquiring about the news of the world, nor about the shifts of politics, nor the prices in the markets. Rather, he sought something beyond these — meanings that transcend the material.
I said to him, as I looked at the expectant faces around me: “The news, my dear brother, is every report that is uttered, which in itself may bear either truth or falsehood. If the statement conforms to reality, it is true; if it contradicts it, it is false. People have no choice in this matter.”
He furrowed his brow and said calmly, “And the words of the Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him? Are they not among the reports?” I replied, “Indeed, they are the truest, purest, noblest, and wisest of reports. His words are light in the darkness, guidance amidst confusion, and a mercy for those who seek to find their way through the paths of life.”
He lowered his gaze for a moment, then lifted his head with a hint of serene challenge in his eyes: “If the Prophet’s speech is among the reports, does it not, then, bear the possibility of truth or falsehood?”
I answered, sensing the entire gathering listening intently: “From the standpoint of pure reason, yes — all speech theoretically admits of both truth and falsehood; this is what reason dictates. But when we consider reality, and the one who uttered the hadith — the one who does not speak from his own desire — we know that falsehood does not come near his words, nor does it taint his speech. Rather, his words are the very embodiment of truth, unmarred by doubt or illusion.”
A third companion, who loved debate the most among us, interjected: “If that is so, why do scholars say ‘this is a sound (ṣaḥīḥ) hadith’ instead of ‘this is a true (ṣādiq) hadith’?”
I replied, seeking to deepen their understanding: “The Companion who heard the hadith directly from the Prophet, peace be upon him, knew its truth with immediate certainty — he saw the Prophet and heard him, and thus was certain. But we, separated by time, who neither heard him with our own ears nor saw him with our own eyes, have no means except to examine the chain by which the hadith reached us. If that chain proves reliable, we say: ‘This is a sound (ṣaḥīḥ) hadith,’ meaning it has been confirmed to have come to us exactly as it was said and transmitted.”
They exchanged glances until one of them asked, “And how is this soundness of the chain determined?”
I said: “Everything is prone to defect, even reports; lies may creep in, forgetfulness may affect narrators, or illusion may distort recollection. Therefore, safeguarding is necessary, and the guardians of hadith set down criteria for this. When the chain of narrators is uninterrupted, and every individual in it is known for truthfulness, attested for trustworthiness, and possessed of sound memory — neither forgetting, erring, nor adding or omitting — they say: this is a sound chain, and the hadith is sound.”
One of them, a man who delighted in details, asked: “Do they all agree on these conditions?”
I answered: “Indeed, the scholars at large are unanimous upon them. However, al-Bukhārī and Muslim, the two most knowledgeable and cautious masters of this noble science, did not suffice with these conditions alone.
In their two books — the most authentic books ever compiled — they added two further stipulations, the significance of which is truly grasped only by one who has long companionship with the books of hadith and has reflected deeply upon the nature of reports.”
They asked eagerly: “What are these two? And why did they add them?”
I said: “First, that the hadith must not be shādh (anomalous), for a narrator, despite being truthful, might report something that conflicts with what is narrated by one more reliable, or by a greater number, or by someone of stronger memorisation. If this occurs, they know that an error has slipped in, so they do not accept that report.
The second is that the hadith must be free from hidden defects (‘illah khafiyyah), which only a seasoned expert can discern. It is as if they can ‘smell’ the report; if they sense a trace of hesitation or remnants of illusion, they investigate until the cause becomes clear. If they find a hidden flaw, they leave the hadith, even if its outward appearance seems sound and upright.”
I paused briefly, seeing them all waiting for more, until one of them spoke as if to draw me out: “Give us examples; we want to see them through the lens of scholarship.”
I said, gathering my thoughts for their benefit: “The examples are many, scattered throughout the books of the scholars. Whoever desires them may consult the books of hadith or my own works, Tamḥīd ʿIlm al-Ḥadīth, A Wonderful Introduction to Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī, and the Introduction to the Explanation of Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim — in these they will find comprehensive clarification and instructive examples for those who seek to understand.”
Then the quietest and most contemplative among them stepped forward and asked: “If a hadith is not judged sound, does that mean it is necessarily false?”
I replied, sensing the discussion was reaching its conclusion: “No, it may well be true, but we cannot affirm that without clear evidence, and knowledge is not attained through conjecture. Moreover, some hadiths that initially fall short of the level of soundness can, when supported by different chains or corroborated by other reports, strengthen each other until they reach the rank of soundness; this is what scholars call ṣaḥīḥ li-ghayrih — sound by virtue of corroboration — a delicate branch of this science that can only be mastered by those patient enough to learn it with care and deliberation, not haste.”
I fell silent, and so did they, as if each withdrew into his own thoughts. In that quiet room, I imagined hearing the footsteps of the scholars of old, leafing through the ancient volumes, examining every word and every narrator in their meticulous search for truth and their determined flight from error.
Disclaimer: This article was translated by AI. Original post: https://t.me/DrAkramNadwi/6335
