A Measure of ‘Humanity’: Shame

I ran into a friend I hadn’t seen in a long time, and we were having a chat. Just as we were about to say goodbye, she grew somber and wanted to share a recent trouble that was still fresh. “For the past few days, I’ve been struggling with a sense of shame, and it has wrecked my sleep,” she said with a sigh. I wondered what she could have done, and what had hurt and embarrassed her so deeply. She was too ashamed even to speak of it…

The issue was an old house left by her father. The conversations within the family and an unjust division of the inheritance had left her deeply embarrassed. It was neither about the house nor the money. What gave rise to her shame was the betrayal of her childhood, her family, and her memories—by people who had once shared the same table, broken the same bread, laughed and cried together. It wasn’t anger, nor disappointment, nor even rage that she felt. Simply being involved in those conversations, appearing to take a side in certain disputes, was in itself a source of shame for her. And she was just ashamed. On behalf of someone else!

After that conversation, I returned to reflecting on this powerful emotion I had been contemplating for quite some time.

Years ago, in the town of Kalocsa (Kaloča) in Hungary, I had a deep conversation about the feeling of shame with a Hungarian woman in her seventies. I had wanted to wear one of her magnificent traditional dresses adorned with Kalocsa motifs. When she offered to help me put it on, I politely declined. While I was trying to express my embarrassment, fearing she might be offended, she was actually pleased and then spoke some very wise words:
“Long ago, we too used to feel ashamed to undress and dress in front of others. Nowadays, no one knows this feeling anymore. They think undressing is a great skill and freedom. By destroying this feeling, they committed the greatest injustice against women. And they did it through the hands of women themselves…”
She was absolutely right…

In modern times, they sold us women nudity in exchange for freedom and equality. The idea of nudity—actually exhibitionism—was insidiously slipped into our subconscious alongside the most beautiful concepts like freedom, justice, rights, and equality, and it was this idea that first killed our sense of shame. We were led to believe that we would be free once we removed our coverings. Women’s privacy was turned into both a commercial and a diabolical commodity. In the end, the right of women to dress as they wished was sadly transformed into the right to undress as they wished.

In the story of Adam and Eve as written in the holy books, it is impossible not to see that the very first emotion in human history was shame. Their realization of their nakedness and their attempt to hide is, of course, not merely a physical act of covering. In a way, it represents the moment they encountered the most human and moral emotion.

The feeling of shame is deeply personal; it relates to the purity of one’s own essence. It is distinct from compassion or conscience. Compassion or pity, though human emotions, can harbor a degree of superiority, a hidden arrogance. Because the one who feels these emotions is an outside observer—they are not the one suffering. So even if they empathize, they are ultimately a stranger. And because they are not the ones enduring the suffering, they are grateful, and that gratitude becomes a source of comfort. But is shame like that? It contains not a trace of arrogance, self-interest, or selfishness. It is the most powerful moral emotion. Therefore, it is the strongest guardian of our humanity and our honor.

Kant’s perspective on morality and the feeling of shame is immensely valuable. According to him, a human being feels responsibility due to the law-giving reason within themselves. True shame arises when a person realizes they have betrayed the moral law that exists within. Shame is not merely related to the gaze of God or the external world; it is falling from the eyes of one’s own conscience. In Kant’s words, morality is made possible through the respect one has for oneself, and shame is the guardian of this self-respect. “Do good because it is good, not because God commands it—for not for God’s pleasure. It is then that God is truly pleased.” This moral principle also implies refraining from evil or shameful actions not for their consequences, but because they are inherently wrong, disgraceful, or shameful. Only then does morality fulfill the true aim of divine ethics: human self-respect. The feeling of shame is self-respect.

Yet in our time, the sense of shame is steadily being eroded. In a world where exhibitionism is considered freedom and rudeness is mistaken for courage, shame is often reduced to an issue of public disgrace or social embarrassment.

Let us admit that the greatest shame of our time—and perhaps of this entire century—is the genocide taking place before our very eyes in Palestine. The genocide in Gaza stands as the most extreme example of collective shamelessness, compounded by the silent complicity of most world leaders and international institutions…

This shamelessness does not belong solely to Israel, which wages proxy wars on behalf of the United States and the United Kingdom. Those who supply weapons to the killer, who pat the devil on the back, and those who turn a blind eye to the oppression—or refuse to see it—are the most shameless of all.

In Islamic thought, the concept of taqwa—etymologically—means “to protect oneself, to take precaution, to avoid.” And avoidance is only possible through the feeling of shame. In the Qur’an, taqwa is not merely a matter of individual acts of worship; it is presented as a fundamental principle of social justice, of standing against oppression, and of upholding rights. Indeed, in the verse from Surah Hud, “Do not incline toward the oppressors, lest the fire touch you” (11:113), there is a powerful warning for those who wish to understand.

Therefore, true possessors of taqwa are those who refrain from evil not for the sake of a purpose or goal, but simply because it is evil—and they feel ashamed. This is why the silence and indifference of many Muslim country leaders in the face of the genocide in Gaza has deeply disappointed many of us.

Gaza is like a giant mirror reflecting everyone’s own moral portrait. The collective memory of humanity—and history itself—is carefully recording all of these portraits. Without a doubt, beneath those portraits, alongside names, a great shame will also be recorded.

In Islamic ethics, shame (hayā) is regarded as a part of faith. Yet we are witnessing that the Muslim countries doing nothing in the face of the oppression in Gaza have drifted away from the essence of both shame and taqwa. Indeed, we have also seen that the populations of many Western countries have shown more dignity—and even a level of taqwa—than many leaders of Muslim cities.

And yet, the richness of vocabulary related to shame in Eastern cultures—hijāb, hayā, ‘ar, ‘ayb—shows us how deeply this feeling is rooted in moral consciousness. Each word reflects another facet of guarding oneself from excess. These words reveal that shame is not merely a feeling, but a profound value.

And perhaps there is still a chance for our humanity to be saved. Perhaps those who still know shame far outnumber those who do not. In these difficult times, we all need shame as much as we need hope and faith. If, in the face of so much oppression and injustice, we no longer feel shame even for our own existence, then existence itself has lost all meaning.

My friend’s shame on behalf of her closest relative was a sign that her faith in humanity had been broken. The one who committed the injustice felt no shame, but the one who was wronged felt ashamed on their behalf. To feel shame for one’s own humanity—even on behalf of another—is a virtue. Because Adam means a human being who is capable of shame. Once you lose your sense of shame, you are capable of anything. Just like the perpetrators—and the spectators—of the genocide in Gaza. We now feel shame on behalf of those who feel none for this crime against humanity.