A few days ago, I had written an article on the Islamic notion of Paradise, a topic often regarded as controversial in modern discourse due to what critics perceive as its “hedonistic” or “sensual depictions.” As a complementary exploration, it seems equally important, perhaps even more so, to examine the Islamic notion of Hell, which has seen a comparable, if not greater, level of criticism.
These criticisms stem largely from its stark and unflinching descriptions of punishment for wrongdoers, which many liberal commentators describe as “excessively vivid” or “graphic.”
A common apologetic defense posits that the doctrine of Hell serves a profound moral and social function: it instills a sense of ultimate accountability and underscores the idea that justice transcends the failings of this world. In societies where power and privilege often shield individuals from the consequences of their crimes, such as murder, theft, oppression, etc., the concept of Hell reminds and reassures victims that justice will always eventually be administered.
From this perspective, Hell is not merely punitive. It is also restorative, affirming an ultimate justice that human institutions frequently fail to deliver. The notion inherently undermines the foundations of a secular approach to justice, which then becomes by its very essence limited and thus inadequate.
Beyond this, one could argue that the psychological and ethical impact of such a doctrine also fosters a strong sense of restraint, responsibility, and contentment within a believer, offering both a deterrent against wrongdoing and a consolation for those who have suffered injustice. Rather than viewing Hell exclusively as a “barbaric relic of pre-modern thought,” it should be interpreted as a moral equalizer, a metaphysical assurance that the moral order is not arbitrary and is enforced beyond the limits of human fallibility.
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Only Justice… A Liberal Argument?
Nevertheless, I cannot help but feel that such arguments, valid as they may be, are somewhat tailored to resonate with liberal sensibilities. After all, modern liberalism, particularly in its contemporary form, is profoundly “Rawlsian,” named after John Rawls, arguably the most influential liberal thinker of the second half of the twentieth century. Rawls famously anchored his theory of liberalism in the principle of justice, envisioning a form of social democracy aimed at redistributing resources and opportunities in a manner that ensures fairness for all citizens.
Rawls developed his theory in the context of the Cold War and the rising appeal of the communist ideology. To many Marxist critics, his vision of social democracy seemed like a sophisticated strategy to neutralize the revolutionary potential of the Western working class and especially the middle class by offering a sanitized, reformist alternative to radical social transformation.
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Anyway, his ideas went on to shape not only political philosophy, inspiring figures like Martha Nussbaum; but also development economics, notably through the work of Nobel laureate Amartya Sen. Perhaps most importantly though, Rawlsian liberalism also influenced legal theory, notably through Ronald Dworkin’s “interpretivism,” which granted judges greater discretionary latitude in interpreting the law. This interpretive approach has often been criticized (particularly by its conservative detractors) as paving the way for left-leaning judicial activism in the United States, due to encouraging courts to embed substantive moral reasoning into legal decisions rather than adhering strictly to textual or originalist readings.
Without digressing too much, the point is that when we defend the Islamic concept of Hell on the grounds that it ensures ultimate justice, we are, in effect, appealing to a distinctly liberal framework of values. In this sense, the argument is constructed on liberal terms, employing liberal categories to vindicate a religious doctrine that may, in its own context, be grounded in a more complex interplay of divine will, moral pedagogy, and metaphysical order. To put it differently, by defending Hell as being a mere instrument of justice, we are engaging liberals on their own terrain and perhaps overlooking dimensions of the doctrine that transcend or even challenge liberal moral intuitions.
Most importantly, this conception of Hell effectively becomes what one might call an “agnostic” Hell, so to speak, a moral construct, perhaps even an ethical experiment of sorts rather than a distinctly Islamic one, because the “horrible” imagery, as they put it, is functionally discarded and made redundant as it doesn’t need to be invoked. Its primary function is then as a philosophical or ethical device, to ensure ultimate accountability, irrespective of specific theological commitments.
Yet, in so doing, it risks neglecting or even undermining a key aspect of the Islamic portrayal of Hell: the pervasive atmosphere of fear and awe that envelops its descriptions and serves as a powerful moral and spiritual deterrent.
Simply framing Hell as a “mechanism for justice” may rationalize its existence to modern liberal sensibilities, but it fails to fully capture the visceral, almost existential dread that the Qur’anic narrative evokes, a dread that invokes not only a sense of justice but also a profound sense of fear and humility before the divine order.
Thus, the Islamic conception of Hell appeals not only to ethics but, perhaps more fundamentally, to metaphysics. In this sense, a Rawlsian moralization of the doctrine, i.e., framing it merely as an instrument of justice, ironically risks de-Islamicizing it by subjecting it to the categories of modernist apologetics. Such an approach takes a profoundly theological and eschatological reality and reduces it to a utilitarian moral construct.
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Reclaiming Fear
What I propose, then, is to emphasize the “fear factor” of Hell rather than framing it primarily as a vehicle for moral posturing. This perspective has historical precedents, even though within a wholly different context: in ancient Greece, there were debates over whether tragedy or comedy held greater value in the realm of theater. The philosopher Aristotle famously argued in favor of tragedy, suggesting that the spectacle of horror and fear produced a catharsis (literally “purification”) of the emotions, which he deemed more profound and transformative than the lighter pleasures offered by comedy. Aristotle wrote in his Poetics:
The tragic fear and pity may be aroused by the Spectacle; but they may also be aroused by the very structure and incidents of the play—which is the better way and shows the better poet. The Plot in fact should be so framed that, even without seeing the things take place, he who simply hears the account of them shall be filled with horror and pity at the incidents.
In a similar vein, the vivid, fear-inducing descriptions of Hell in the Islamic tradition can be understood as serving a cathartic and pedagogical function, aimed not merely at moral instruction but also at the deeper stirring and reorientation of the soul.
The Qur’anic deployment of what are often described as “horrific images” serves precisely this purpose: just as the ancient world was steeped in idols and the postmodern world is saturated with media, the power of vivid imagery remains a constant, functioning as a form of moral and psychological education. These images have a direct, visceral impact, engaging not just the intellect but also the emotions and imagination. Even someone removed from the trappings of “modern civilization” can feel the force of such imagery, underscoring its universal pedagogical potential.
This dynamic also resonates with the modern psychological concept of “fear appeals,” often employed in marketing and public health campaigns. A fear appeal emphasizes danger or harm in order to motivate or even coerce a change in behavior. A well-known example is the anti-smoking advertisement that depicts diseased lungs to deter smoking. Research suggests that fear appeals are most effective when the threat is vividly portrayed and when a clear, attainable alternative behavior, typically framed as moral or responsible, is offered as a way to avoid the threatened outcome, as it is the case within an Islamic framework of Hell.
Even if it may seem anecdotal, one observes that many “ex-Muslims” continue to wrestle with the idea of the Islamic Hell even after their apostasy, a testament to the enduring impact of the “fear factor” emphasized in its depiction:
By contrast, it is far less likely for a modern “ex-Christian” to experience a similar struggle, largely because contemporary Christianity has, in many contexts, softened or marginalized its traditional notions of Hell under the pressure of liberalism and secularism. (In medieval Christianity, however, the concept was far more vivid and psychologically potent, as exemplified by Dante’s Inferno, which vividly illustrated a similarly fear-inducing vision of the afterlife, while the famous “Pascal’s wager” for the belief in God is also predicated on such an approach regarding Hell.)
In conclusion, these considerations (and there are doubtlessly others too) illustrate why I believe reducing the Islamic conception of Hell to merely a question of justice is both spiritually reductive and conceptually impoverished. Such a narrowing of its role strips the doctrine of its metaphysical depth, its psychological force, and its pedagogical richness, confining it to the limited framework of modern moral discourse rather than appreciating it within its broader existential and metaphysical context.
Hell is real. Its punishments and torments are severe and very real. Those who disbelieve will remain in Hell forever. Those who believe and commit sins will either be forgiven by Allah, due to their repentance and through His mercy, or they will first be purified of their sins through punishment in Hell, after which they will eventually be granted entry into Heaven.
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