The Invisible Bullet: The Tale of Moral Assassination

By Dr Salah Da’aak
In an age where news travels at lightning speed and rumours spread even faster, words have become deadlier than bullets and more destructive than weapons. A bullet kills the body once, but a false word can kill the soul every day, leaving its victim to suffer as if dying repeatedly. Between fabricated slander, woven lies, and baseless accusations, the reputations of the innocent collapse like yellow leaves falling in autumn, leaving behind broken hearts and spirits scarred with wounds.
In this article, I open a window onto one of the most dangerous forms of killing—moral assassination, which sometimes targets success and at other times drives the virtuous away from public office, fearing that they will become the target of these poisoned daggers.
Killing is not always the sound of a bullet piercing the body, or a dagger plunging into the chest. There is a sharper, slower death—a killing in which no blood is shed, but in which reputation and honour are destroyed, dignity is extinguished, and pure hearts are hung on the gallows of suspicion and slander. God Almighty said in the Holy Qur’an: “Whoever kills a person unjustly—it is as though he has killed all mankind”. This divine description illustrates a crime that reaches into the soul, not just the body; a person can sometimes be ‘killed alive’ when his reputation is stolen, his integrity defamed, and the arrow of a false word or a gratuitous accusation strikes him.
The first scene of moral assassination in human history began with Cain and Abel, when the former said to his brother: “I will surely kill you”, and he replied: “Indeed, God accepts only from the righteous”. Envy, not guilt, was the motive. Thus the righteous are often targeted, not for wrongdoing, but precisely because they are righteous. As the poet said: “They envied the young man when they could not equal his efforts; thus they became his enemies and adversaries.”
In every age, there are those who, unable to keep pace with another’s success, find it easy to stab him in the back, questioning his intentions. And when they cannot compete with his achievements, they slander him with lies. Thus, slander becomes the language of cowards, calumny the tool of the weak, and malicious whispering the refuge of those whose hearts cannot bear the breadth of noble souls.
The infamous Incident of the Slander (al-Ifk) in the time of the Prophet ﷺ remains an everlasting lesson. The rumour touched the purest of households—the household of Prophethood—and slanderous whispers targeted our Mother Aisha (may God be pleased with her). The Prophet ﷺ remained silent and patient until God Himself declared her innocence: “Indeed, those who came with falsehood are a group among you. Do not think it bad for you; rather it is good for you.” History has since repeated itself, with slander becoming a common weapon in the hands of the petty, aimed at every upright person, wielded against every successful one—until lies outpace justice, and character assassination proves easier than acknowledging another’s merit. One of my friends used to call such people “enemies of success jokingly.”
I recall an incident abroad, where we witnessed this first-hand. A man known for his integrity and public service, dedicated to the community without seeking reward or recognition, became the target of some officials who felt overshadowed by his presence. One of them gathered others and said: “We must bring him down—accuse him of treason!” Yet, surprisingly, even those with past disagreements refused the deceit. They said: “Yes, we differ with him, but we will not lie or slander him. We have only seen honesty from him.” Thus, the plot collapsed—not because he defended himself, but because his opponents refused to sell their consciences. They distinguished between public disagreement and personal spite, and, despite their simplicity, feared God and honoured their shared ties with the man. Such is the way of the noble: “If you honour the noble, you possess him; but if you honour the ignoble, he will rebel.”
Elsewhere, I know of a director of a major institution, famed for discipline and transparency. He dismissed negligent employees after a strict review. In retaliation, they fabricated malicious complaints. Yet the investigation exonerated him and proved his integrity, leaving him vindicated while his accusers remained disgraced. As the poet said: “When God wills to spread a virtue long concealed, He gives it the tongue of a jealous man.”
Such examples abound, to the extent that anyone assuming public office becomes a target for open fire—their personal life, family, and dignity exposed to violation. I once heard of a public figure being insulted at a social gathering with accusations hurled at him by someone who had never even met him. When confronted—“Do you even know who you are speaking about?”—he stubbornly replied, “Yes, I know him well!” only for it to be revealed that he had never met the man at all; he was simply parroting rumours. Another tale is told of former Sudanese President Nimeiri offering a ministerial post to a well-known man, who declined with wit: “Do you want people to dig up even the stories of my grandmother and grandfather who died fifty years ago?”—a humorous but telling comment on how public office exposes one to unrestrained attacks, even upon the honour of one’s ancestors.
Such realities drive many noble and capable professionals away from public life—not from fear of responsibility, but to shield their reputations from cowardly attacks by those of no standing or credibility. As the poet said: “Half of a man is his tongue, and half his heart; the rest is nothing but flesh and blood.” For honourable people, reputation is their true wealth. It is woven over years, not built in a day; it cannot be bought or replaced once lost. Knowing that the path to the summit is riddled with mines, many qualified individuals prefer to withdraw quietly, leaving the stage to the noisy and the unworthy.
Yes, the corrupt must be held accountable. But accountability belongs not to gossip halls or platforms of slander, but to courts of law, with evidence—not with hearsay. “When the noble contends with you, he preserves goodwill as much as possible.” If only we could teach our children that disagreement does not justify lying; that words carry responsibility; and that slandering others does not diminish them, but instead diminishes the slanderer—first in the sight of God, then in the eyes of people. True nobility is not tested in times of harmony, but in moments of conflict—when you either rise above or fall beneath.
In an age rife with moral assassination, let us remain steadfast to truth in speech, decency in dispute, and mercy in disagreement. Perhaps what light remains in this world is preserved by those who prefer purity to victory, and truth to suspicion. The gravest danger to societies is not poverty, disease, or even war, but the collapse of moral values—when slander becomes a method, lies an instrument, and defamation a pastime. Words are a trust, and betraying them is treachery. Let us beware of becoming tools in the hands of the malicious or echoing voices of slander without verification. For he who guards his tongue protects his honour, safeguards the dignity of others, and preserves the cohesion of society.
In a darkening world, perhaps a sincere word can be a candle that lights the path of truth and preserves for humanity its true worth and dignity.

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