By Salim Mohamed Badat
From the time of the Umayyads to the present-day palaces of Riyadh, Abu Dhabi, Cairo and elsewhere, these so-called scholars have too often poisoned the spirit of the Ummah, distorted divine justice, and used sacred texts to justify political power.
The Quran does not command the scholar to protect the ruler from criticism. It commands the believer to stand firmly for justice, even when that justice is against oneself, one’s parents or one’s own people.
The Prophet Muhammad (s) said: “The best jihad is a word of justice before a tyrannical ruler.” Where are those voices today?
The Blood of a Muslim
And here we must remember something fundamental. The sanctity of Muslim blood is not a secondary matter in Islam. The Prophet (s) spoke with extraordinary emphasis about the inviolability of the believer’s life. In a well-known narration the Prophet (s) looked at the Kabah and said, in meaning, that its sanctity is immense, but the sanctity of the believer, his blood and his wealth, is even greater in the sight of Allah. This is the moral scale that Islam gives us.
So what do we make of rivers of blood flowing through Sudan? What do we make of the rivers of blood flowing through Gaza? What do we make of Muslim civilians being killed, children being buried beneath rubble, families being displaced, homes destroyed and entire communities devastated?
Where was the outrage? Where was the passionate defence of the sanctity of Muslim life? Where were the declarations from those who now suddenly raise their voices about the sanctity of the Kabah?
If the blood of a Muslim is greater in sanctity than the Kabah, then how can a scholar become animated by threats to the physical sanctuary while remaining silent when the lives of Muslims are being extinguished? That is the contradiction that must be confronted.
The Kabah Cannot Become a Shield for Political Power
And now, when Ansarullah in Yemen takes action that threatens the strategic interests of the regional powers, suddenly these same court scholars raise their heads. Suddenly there are sermons about the sanctity of Makkah. Suddenly there are warnings about the Kabah. Suddenly there is a great religious alarm. Ansarullah have made it clear that they will never attack the kabah and medina. And that it belongs to the ummah.
Now I ask where was this same religious urgency when Gaza was turned into a graveyard? Where was it when Sudan descended into catastrophe? Where was it when Muslim blood was flowing?
Where was the same concern when governments ( UAE , Saudi Arabia and other Muslim countries ) and political elites were accused of supporting forces responsible for atrocities?
This is why the sudden invocation of the Kabah can appear, to those watching, not as principled piety but as selective piety, religious language deployed when political power is threatened.
The Kabah is sacred.
There is no question about that. But the sanctity of the Kabah cannot be weaponised to distract from the sanctity of human life. One cannot invoke the holiness of the House of Allah while remaining indifferent to the killing of those whom Allah has commanded us to protect.
When the Palace Changes Its Tune
Where was that concern when concerts became a major feature of Saudi public life? Where was the same intensity of religious condemnation when the kingdom hosted international entertainment figures and enormous music festivals? Why was the sanctity of Islam invoked selectively?
The Scholars Who Never See the Tyranny of Their Patrons
And then there are those scholars who live in the West, including some associated with Salafi-Wahhabi circles who spend enormous energy condemning Muslims they regard as deviants, innovators or heretics, yet seem remarkably reluctant to confront the political regimes with which their ideological allies maintain relationships.
They will debate aqidah for hours. They will declare this Muslim misguided and that Muslim an unbeliever. They will condemn demonstrations. They will condemn resistance. They will warn Muslims against criticising rulers.
But when governments normalise relations with Israel, when Palestinians are killed and displaced, and when the wider Muslim world is complicit or silent, the volume suddenly drops.
Some have even gone so far as to question the Islam of Palestinians on account of theological disagreements. Imagine the inversion. The oppressed Palestinian is interrogated about his aqidah, and whether they are good Muslims, while the powerful are rarely interrogated about their conduct. The victim is placed on trial. The ruler receives silence. That is not the prophetic tradition.
Palestine Exposes the Difference Between Scholars of Truth and Scholars of Power.
The Quran commands: “Stand firmly for justice, as witnesses for Allah, even if it is against yourselves, your parents or your relatives.” Quran 4:135
Yet some scholars have reduced the Palestinian tragedy to a carefully measured dua at the end of a khutbah while avoiding the names, governments, policies and institutions responsible for the suffering.
Their silence speaks loudly. And what of the Gulf kings and princes? We have also witnessed the extraordinary proximity between political elites, wealthy businessmen, and figures whose names have appeared in scandals and controversies involving powerful international networks.
One striking example is Saudi Crown Prince and Prime Minister Mohammed bin Salman, whose photograph with Jeffrey Epstein has appeared in the Epstein files. The photograph reportedly dates to 2016–2017, when Mohammed bin Salman was Crown Prince.
The holy Kiswah of the Kaaba was even seen in the hands of Jeffrey Epstein. Yet the very same court scholars remain silent.
And what about the Saudi journalist Jamal Khashoggi, who was killed inside the Saudi consulate in Istanbul in October 2018? U.S. intelligence assessed that Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman (MBS) approved the operation to kill Khashoggi.
Yet the same scholars who obsess over the private conduct of ordinary Muslims often become remarkably cautious when the subject is the conduct of princes, billionaires and rulers. This is the very disease that destroyed earlier civilisations.
When Serving the Pilgrims Becomes a Shield Against Accountability.
Some scholars defend the Saudi rulers by pointing to their service to pilgrims and the management of the holy sites, as though these acts excuse everything else.
But the Quran itself gives us an important distinction. Allah says: “Do you consider the providing of water to the pilgrims and the maintenance of the Sacred Mosque equal to the one who believes in Allah and the Last Day and strives in the cause of Allah? They are not equal in the sight of Allah.” Quran 9:19
Their wealth contributes to policies and military actions that have caused immense suffering in the Muslim world. Serving pilgrims cannot place any state beyond moral accountability.
The Court Scholar Has a Different Definition of Sin
For the ordinary Muslim, the court scholar can identify every sin. For the dissenter, every theological error. For the political opponent, every forbidden act. But when the palace commits an injustice, the language changes. It becomes: “There may be wisdom behind this.” “Do not cause fitnah.” “Obey the ruler.” “Leave politics to those in authority.” “We must not speak about these matters.”
And suddenly the Quran’s command to stand for justice is replaced by an endless theology of obedience. This is not fear of Allah. It is fear of losing access to the palace.
The Test of the Scholar
The true scholar is not recognised by how many books he has memorised, how eloquently he speaks Arabic, or the length of his beard, or the size of his turban, or how many followers he has, or how close he stands to a king.
The true scholar is recognised when telling the truth costs him something. When the ruler is angry. When the powerful withdraw their patronage. When the crowd turns against him. When speaking the truth threatens his salary, his position, his invitations, his platform or his reputation. That is when scholarship becomes prophetic.
Otherwise, one risks becoming nothing more than a religious functionary. And history has seen many such functionaries.
They blessed the throne. They rationalised its wars. They silenced its critics. They sanctified its policies. And when the regime eventually fell, their religious justifications fell with it.
The Same Disease Exists Outside the Arab World
Let it also be said clearly: this disease is not confined to Riyadh, Abu Dhabi or Cairo. It exists in London. It exists in Johannesburg. It exists in Durban. It exists in Karachi. It exists in New York. It exists wherever a scholar becomes more concerned with preserving his institutional position than preserving the truth.
A scholar who will condemn a Muslim teenager for a minor ritual mistake but cannot bring himself to condemn the killing of innocent civilians has lost the hierarchy of Islam.
A scholar who can speak for an hour about the correct length of a garment, or the hat on the head but cannot spend five minutes speaking about injustice has lost the moral centre of revelation.
A scholar who fears the ruler more than he fears Allah has misunderstood his vocation.
We Must Return to the Prophetic Model
The Quran repeatedly places Tawhid and justice at the heart of the Islamic worldview. Allah commands justice. Allah condemns oppression. Allah commands believers to stand as witnesses for truth.
And the prophets were never merely chaplains to kings. Musa (AS) stood before Pharaoh. Ibrahim (AS) confronted the idolaters. Prophet Muhammad (s) confronted the structures of Quraysh.
Imam Ali (RA) stood against injustice even when justice came at enormous political cost. This is the tradition we need. Not scholars who protect institutions. Not scholars who protect kings. Not scholars who protect salaries. Not scholars who protect geopolitical alliances.
We need scholars who protect truth. Because eventually every king will die. Every palace will crumble. Every government will disappear. Every political alliance will change. But Allah remains.
And the scholar will eventually stand before Him alone. On that day, the question will not be: “Were you loyal to the king?” It will be: “Were you loyal to the truth?”
May Allah raise a generation of scholars who speak the truth even when it burns, who call oppression by its name, who defend the oppressed without political calculation, and who walk the path of the prophets, not the path of Pharaoh’s priests.
For the scholar who fears losing the favour of kings has already lost something far more precious: the courage to speak for Allah.
Salim Mohamed Badat
Writer exploring the intersection of faith, politics and justice
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