Imam Malik was known as the greatest scholar of his generation in Madinah. People came from across the Muslim world to ask him questions. His response to roughly a third of them, by some accounts, was: “La adri” — I do not know. Three words. From the most knowledgeable person his questioners had access to. Saying them was not weakness. It was the mark of genuine learning.
What the scholars said about not knowing
Imam Malik said: “La adri is half of knowledge.” If you cannot say you do not know, you cannot be trusted about what you do know. The willingness to acknowledge the limits of your knowledge is itself a form of knowledge — about yourself, about the nature of certainty, about the humility that genuine learning produces.
Ibn Masud said: “Whoever says ‘I do not know’ has answered.” The answer is complete. It is not incomplete knowledge followed by silence — it is a complete, honest, useful response. The person who says “I do not know, but here is who does” has served the questioner better than the person who guesses confidently and leads them wrong.
What this looks like today
Social media has created a culture where opinions are expected instantly, where not knowing is experienced as inadequacy, and where confident wrongness is more common than honest uncertainty. The Islamic tradition of scholarly humility — modelled by the greatest scholars in history — is a direct counter-current to this.
The person who says “I am not sure, let me look into it” or “I do not know enough to have a strong view on that” is practising a virtue, not displaying a weakness. Research on intellectual humility — the ability to recognise the limits of your knowledge and update your views when confronted with better evidence — consistently identifies it as a predictor of better reasoning, stronger relationships, and greater credibility. The scholars knew this intuitively. It is now documented.
Especially in religious matters
The Prophet said: “The most daring of you in issuing fatwas will be the most daring of you in facing the Fire.” (Ibn Majah, from various narrations). Speaking about religious matters without knowledge — confidently pronouncing on what is halal, haram, or required — is treated with the greatest seriousness in the tradition. The answer “I do not know, ask a scholar” is not an abdication of responsibility. In religious matters, it is often the most responsible answer available.
Frequently Asked Questions
Why did the early scholars frequently say “I do not know”?
Because they understood that speaking without knowledge is one of the most dangerous acts available. The Prophet warned against issuing opinions without knowledge. Imam Malik, considered among the greatest scholars of his time, said “I do not know” to approximately a third of questions presented to him. This was not ignorance — it was a precise understanding of the limits of his knowledge and a refusal to guess where certainty was required.
How do you build intellectual humility?
By practising saying “I do not know” in small, low-stakes situations first. By distinguishing between what you know, what you believe, and what you have heard. By developing the habit of asking “how confident am I in this?” before expressing a view. And by watching what happens when you update a view based on better information — the credibility you gain from changing your mind honestly is greater than the credibility you lose from having been wrong.
La adri. I do not know. Say it this week, once, where it is honest. Notice what it costs you. Notice that the cost is less than you feared — and the relief of accuracy is real.