There is one phrase that can silence even the most articulate speaker in a single Arab discussion: “You’re just theorizing.”
The phrase requires no evidence to refute the argument, nor any counterargument of its own. It is enough to utter it for an idea, however coherent, to be dismissed as an intellectual luxury that has nothing to do with anyone’s real concerns.
When, then, did “theorizing” become an accusation? How did it become so distorted from its original meaning that it came to resemble an insult more than a description?
Linguistically, the word is entirely innocent of the connotations attached to it. To contemplate is to reflect and think deeply; a theory is not a fantasy detached from reality, but an attempt to understand it—an intellectual framework through which we organize scattered facts so that they become comprehensible, interpretable, and capable of informing predictions.
No policy exists without a theory underpinning it, even if that theory remains implicit. When a state chooses to invest in education before roads, or in healthcare before armaments, it is engaging in theorizing, whether it acknowledges it or not, because it is adopting a particular vision of the priorities of human development and the building of civilization.
The problem, then, is not theorizing as an intellectual activity in itself. Rather, it lies in a particular kind of theorizing that, through a painful accumulation of historical experiences, has evolved into a negative stereotype deeply entrenched in the public consciousness.
In this context, the intellectual has come to be seen as someone skilled at describing an ailment in captivating, eloquent language, yet unable—or unwilling—to offer a remedy that can actually be implemented.
Thus, an unfair equation has taken root in people’s minds: the more abstract an idea becomes, the further it distances itself from responsibility for the outcome.
Here lies the fundamental distinction that I believe holds the key to the issue: there is a kind of theorizing that continually subjects itself to the test of reality, correcting its course whenever facts challenge it. And there is another kind that takes refuge in abstraction precisely to escape that test.
Perhaps Ibn Khaldun, when he distinguished between mere reports and reports tested against an understanding of the nature and laws of human civilization, was addressing this very problem from his own perspective: knowledge that is not measured against the logic of reality and its transformations remains vulnerable to error, however internally consistent it may appear. This is the same lesson that resurfaces today whenever we encounter political rhetoric that promises everything because it has no intention of being tested against anything.
If “theorizing” must be criticized, then let the criticism target its absence from action, not its presence in thought.
What poses the greater danger to public life is not the person who thinks carefully before acting, but the person who acts without any idea at all—or who acts on a superficial idea and confidently repeats the same mistakes.
More dangerous still is denying any citizen or public official the right to think aloud on the pretext that this is a time for action, not words—as though acting without prior thought were a virtue, when in truth it is closer to gambling.
One final question remains: when we dismiss “theoreticians,” are we genuinely rejecting empty abstraction, or are we unknowingly avoiding ideas that make us uncomfortable because we have no response to them other than to label them “mere theory”?
An honest answer to this question may be the first step toward a more serious approach to public affairs and political discourse that is less afraid of ideas themselves.
We should not place everyone who thinks and theorizes in the dock. Those who should be held accountable are the ones responsible for execution and implementation.
And if a theoretician goes further and develops plans and policies for implementation, despite holding no position of political power, then we should thank that person—and condemn those who approve the ideas but fail to put them into practice.
One final point: Is a constitution not a theory of what governments are expected to uphold? Is it not put to a public vote? If a constitution exists, should governments not formulate policies to implement it? Should parliament and the media not hold the executive branch accountable for achieving its objectives?
Who, then, is to blame: those who drafted the constitution and articulated its declared vision, or those who failed to put it into practice?
