Profiling any segment of society and viewing them as a threat is

Fethullah Gulen, the teacher and thinker who often spoke of peace and dialogue among peoples, once warned us with a truth that cuts to the marrow: “Profiling any segment of society and viewing them as a threat is a sign of intolerance.” These words are not merely the voice of a modern scholar—they echo the wisdom of the ancients, who knew that the downfall of nations often begins not with foreign invasion, but with suspicion turned inward. For when one part of a people brands another as dangerous simply because of who they are, the harmony of the whole begins to unravel.

The meaning is profound. Profiling takes what is unique, complex, and human and reduces it to a crude label. It says: “You are not an individual; you are only a member of a group, and therefore you are guilty.” Such thinking is the seed of division, the poison of intolerance. When we look upon our fellow citizens and see not neighbors but enemies, not brothers and sisters but threats, we blind ourselves to their humanity. This blindness leads to cruelty, and cruelty—when institutionalized—becomes persecution.

History offers a stark and tragic example in the internment of Japanese Americans during the Second World War. Though many were loyal citizens, entire families were torn from their homes and forced into camps, not because of crimes committed, but because they belonged to a segment of society suddenly seen as a threat. Fear and prejudice silenced justice, and in that silence, the dignity of thousands was stolen. This chapter reveals with painful clarity what Gulen means: intolerance begins with suspicion and ends with injustice.

We see the same in even darker form in the Holocaust, when Jews across Europe were not judged as individuals but as a dangerous collective. Propaganda cast them as a threat to the fabric of society. From this false image came laws, then ghettos, then camps of extermination. Here intolerance reached its most horrific conclusion. The lesson carved in blood is eternal: when a society accepts profiling, it opens the gates to persecution.

Yet Gulen’s words are not only warning but hope. To call profiling a sign of intolerance is to remind us that intolerance is not destiny—it is a condition of the heart that can be cured. We can choose to see people as they are: unique, unrepeatable, full of stories and dreams that cannot be reduced to a single label. By practicing dialogue, by seeking to listen before we judge, by learning from those unlike ourselves, we can dissolve the fear that feeds intolerance.

The lesson for us is clear: whenever we encounter a person, we must resist the lazy instinct to place them in a box. Instead, let us ask: Who are you? What do you carry in your heart? What story has shaped your path? In these questions lies the cure for suspicion. For intolerance thrives in ignorance, but it withers when true knowledge and human contact take root.

Practical action begins in daily life. Stand against jokes, slurs, and stereotypes that reduce people to caricatures. Refuse to accept policies or practices that punish entire communities for the acts of individuals. Seek out the friendship of those different from you, so that your circle of understanding widens. Teach your children to look upon others not with fear but with curiosity, not with suspicion but with respect.

Thus, let Gulen’s words be remembered: profiling any part of society as a threat is not strength but weakness, not wisdom but intolerance. The true strength of a people lies in unity through diversity, in courage that chooses trust over fear, in justice that sees the individual, not the stereotype. And if we walk this path, then peace, dignity, and brotherhood will not remain lofty ideals, but will dwell among us as living realities.