SUNDAY BYTES: Facebook is not a courtroom
When Family Feuds Become Public Trials—and Facebook Users Become the Jury.
Dr. Fiaz Maqbool Fazili
There was a time when Facebook was a space to share photographs, achievements, poetry, and memories—or perhaps an occasional harmless argument about sports. Today, something far more troubling is emerging. Facebook is becoming a digital courtroom. There is no presiding judge, no cross-examination, no verified evidence, and no sworn testimony. There is no formal right to defend oneself. Yet, the verdict arrives almost instantly. The jury? Us—thousands of silent spectators holding smartphones. A family dispute appears on the screen. One party posts an allegation; another responds with a “clarification,” followed by counter-allegations and photographs. Comments multiply, and likes accumulate. In an instant, a deeply private dispute is transformed into public theatre. When did someone else’s family pain become our entertainment?
From private space to public battlefield family disputes are increasingly spilling into the public arena: father versus son, sister versus brother, mother-in-law versus daughter-in-law, and brother versus brother. A recent family dispute, which I deliberately leave unnamed, illustrated this problem vividly. One relative publicly described alleged conduct involving family members. The following day, another side responded with counterstatements. Deciding who is right is beside the point. Neither you nor I possess the complete record. We do not know what happened inside that home, what conversations preceded the posts, or which facts were omitted. We cannot tell whether the allegations are true, disputed, or misunderstood. Yet, social media platforms encourage us to act as though we know everything. People often justify their posts by stating, “I am putting this on record.” But a Facebook post is not a judicial record. A “like” is not evidence, a share is not corroboration, a comment is not cross-examination, and a thousand people repeating an allegation do not make it a fact.
Sociological research links privacy boundaries to group cohesion and social order. When privacy breaks down, assumptions based on incomplete information flourish. What happens to society when every internal disagreement demands a public audience?
The Digital Spectators! What concerns me most is Your reaction ,cheer leaders of the audience. The uploader posts, and the crowd gathers: Someone writes, “Very sad. “Another comments, “Truth must prevail.” Others press “like,” share, applaud, or declare a final verdict. It functions like a circus, except there is no game—only a wounded family, while we sit in the stands cheering. Have we become passive spectators of human suffering? To this, some evoke the traditional principle of,” chadar aur chaar deewari”,—the concept that every family requires a private space where disputes can be addressed with dignity, discretion, and internal mediation. Of course, this principle has limits. Silence must never protect abuse, nor should “family honour” conceal serious wrongdoing. A person facing genuine danger requires protection, legal intervention, or professional support. However, there is a fundamental difference between seeking protection and seeking public applause.
Others argue that “the wearer knows where the shoe pinches”—that outsiders cannot judge the depth of someone’s pain when they feel compelled to speak out. There is truth in that. Yet we must ask: even if the shoe hurts, must the entire neighbourhood be invited to watch the wound? Our faith does not ask us to ignore injustice, but it warns against suspicion, spying, and backbiting. In Surah Al-Hujurat, the Qur’an cautions against excessive suspicion and slander. The directive is neither blind silence nor reckless exposure; it is to speak truthfully, wisely, proportionately, and through channels that genuinely serve justice. Nothing irks me more than the damaging weight given to a simple ‘like’—especially when that validation comes from self-proclaimed intellectuals, thought leaders, and opinion makers who pride themselves on being enlightened. “In a formal court, allegations require verified proof, documents, and context. On social media, a single paragraph becomes a verdict within minutes. The accused may not even know strangers are passing judgment, while the audience rarely hears both sides. Once an allegation carries enough emotional weight, many viewers no longer seek the truth—they look for a villain.
Responsibility does not belong solely to the person who uploads a post. What about those who by liking amplify it, promote it.? The person who shares it without knowing the facts. The user who leaves an insulting comment. The respectable observer who quietly presses “like. “Digital applause encourages repetition. If public exposure produces high engagement, conflict becomes content. The algorithm rewards engagement, but a healthy society must reward restraint.
My appeal with humility to search inside for Accountability vs. Exposure. There is a vital distinction between accountability and exposure. To those who advocate for “better society, civil, moral, disciplined society, “ samajh sudhar “(social reform), genuine reform begins with our own actions. Before commenting on another family’s life, ask: Do I know the whole story? Before sharing, ask: Am I aiding justice or spreading humiliation? Before pressing “like,” ask: Would I accept this reaction if my own family were exposed? Accountability asks: How can this wrongdoing be resolved?
Exposure often asks: How many people can I inform about my grievance? If a matter requires legal action, use the law. If it requires mediation, seek responsible mediators. If it involves danger, seek protection. But why automatically turn to social media? Freedom without responsibility leads to disorder, and exposure without proportion leads to humiliation. Technology has altered the speed of communication, but it has not removed the moral responsibility attached to our words.
To those posting family grievances: your pain deserves a responsible solution, not a public audience. Seek justice, protection, or mediation where appropriate, but consider whether a public post brings resolution or merely escalates harm.To the audience: stop cheering when a family struggles. Sometimes the most courageous response is to refrain from clicking “like.” Sometimes it is to offer private advice toward reconciliation, or simply to remain silent rather than join a digital crowd.
Let us reject this harmful norm. Facebook is not a courtroom, its users are not a jury, its likes are not verdicts, and its algorithms do not comprehend the complexity of human relationships.
A Call for Restraint. “Aisey dastoor ko main nahi maanta, main nahi jaanta.” (I do not accept such a system, nor do I acknowledge it.) I refuse to accept a culture where family disagreements become public entertainment, or where justice is equated with online humiliation. We are called to something better: truth with wisdom, justice with restraint, and speech that leaves behind peace rather than scars. Before we type, post, share, or like, we should ask one final question: If our digital history were placed before our Creator, would we be comfortable with every word, accusation, and “like”? That is the courtroom that ultimately matters—and there, no Facebook jury will exist. Perhaps the lasting lesson is simple: Challenge ideas. Question decisions. Scrutinise records. Defend your position. But protect the dignity of the person with whom you disagree. Because unrestrained social media culture is judged not only by how vigorously it argues, but also by how responsibly it disagrees. And sometimes, before speaking, the wisest intervention is simply a pause:
To “Let me choose my words, my like, my share button carefully.” Why My Pen Does Not Stop… Not another number. Yes, another concern crops. Sometimes the mirror must be held up—not to accuse anyone, but to help all of us see ourselves more honestly.
(STRAIGHT TALK COMMUNICATIONS EXCLUSIVE)
