- Dr. Sayed Ali Abbas Razawi
- 5 hours ago
- 10 min read
A Shīʿī Muslim Reflection on Social Responsibility, Moral Confidence and the Preservation of Peac
Dr Sayed Ali Abbas Razawi, is a Senior Scottish Imam, representing the Scottish Ahlul Bayt Society and Afghan United as well as Trustee to Religions for Peace International and a Member UNHCR Multi-Religious Council of Leaders.
Britain, and indeed much of the western world, is living through a moment of growing anxiety. Across the country, communities of faith are navigating rising suspicion, hostility and social fragmentation. Muslims in particular have felt this acutely. Anti-Muslim hatred has increased, mosques have faced intimidation, Muslim women have experienced harassment in public and international crises have repeatedly spilled into domestic community relations.
When geopolitical conflict abroad inflames emotions at home, minority communities often become vulnerable to scapegoating. In such moments, societies become fragile. Fear replaces trust, public discourse hardens and communities retreat inward.
For those carrying communal, scholarly and religious responsibilities, language matters deeply in such climates. Words shape public perception, social cohesion and the ability of communities to coexist safely. If every issue is approached solely through the lens of social media outrage or geopolitical polarisation, immediate realities affecting ordinary Muslims at home can become harder to address. Attacks upon mosques, threats against Muslim communities, or slogans such as the “kill them all” rhetoric witnessed in parts of Scotland cannot be meaningfully confronted if people become incapable of speaking to fellow citizens simply because political disagreements exist.
However painful geopolitical events may be and however profound political disagreements become, one cannot simply stop speaking to one’s neighbours in times of rising fear and suspicion. For communities already living with vulnerability, the collapse of ordinary human relationships only accelerates mistrust, fragmentation and social instability.
Muslims have a responsibility to speak with wisdom in such times. Oppression must never be ignored, nor should the suffering of any people be trivialised. Yet there is a profound difference between speaking for justice through the language of universal human dignity and reducing every crisis into religious confrontation.
Indeed, some of the most effective and respected commentators on contemporary conflicts, including many Muslims themselves, have approached such issues through the language of international law, civilian protection and shared human rights rather than exclusively sectarian rhetoric. Such an approach allows moral concerns to reach wider society and prevents faith itself from becoming trapped within political polarisation.
When Sacred Personalities Are Reduced to Politics
Islam does not separate morality from public life, nor does it ask believers to become indifferent to injustice. But there is a difference between drawing moral guidance from religion and reducing sacred personalities into temporary political symbols.
The same applies to Imam al-Husayn. He is not a slogan for online conflict or a figure to be inserted carelessly into every political debate. He is the inheritor of the Prophets and a universal moral witness whose stand transcends faction, ideology and temporary political passions.
Perhaps the most famous non-Muslim figure to draw inspiration from Imam al-Husayn was Mahatma Gandhi. Gandhi did not present him as a sectarian symbol or a figure of perpetual political struggle, but as a universal example of sacrifice, conscience and dignity before oppression. In doing so, he introduced Karbala beyond the Muslim world without reducing it to political agitation.
That universality must not be lost.
Outside Muslim communities, very little is truly known about Imam al-Husayn in the Western context. For many people, their first exposure to his name now comes through emotionally charged rhetoric online. If he is introduced incorrectly; reduced merely to the language of agitation or confrontation, critics will inevitably begin interpreting his life through those same assumptions.
Indeed, they may ask: if your Imam represented perpetual conflict, then why did he leave Medina to avoid bloodshed? Why did he repeatedly seek space to move away from fighting? Why did he travel with his women and children rather than with an army prepared for conquest?
These are serious questions. Imam al-Husayn did not leave Medina as a man seeking war. He refused to legitimise an unjust allegiance and departed in order to avoid bloodshed within his home city. A man setting out for military conquest does not take his family into the desert.
Imam al-Husayn’s stand was not a struggle for political domination or territorial control. It was a refusal to legitimise falsehood through allegiance and unconditional submission.
In Karbala, the demand placed upon him was total submission to the authority of Ibn Ziyād. In the narrations preserved by al-Tabarī, Ibn Ziyād instructed ʿUmar ibn Saʿd:
“فَإِنْ نَزَلَ الْحُسَيْنُ وَأَصْحَابُهُ عَلَى حُكْمِي وَاسْتَسْلَمُوا فَابْعَثْ بِهِمْ إِلَيَّ سِلْمًا”
“Fa-in nazala al-Husayn wa-ashābuhu ʿala hukmī wa-istaslamu fa-bʿath bihim ilayya silman.”
“If al-Husayn and his companions submit to my judgement and surrender themselves, then send them to me in peace.”
The wording is critical. The demand was not merely de-escalation. It was complete submission (istislam) to the authority of Ibn Ziyād. In the political reality of the time, this would have meant humiliation, coercion and the captivity of the household of the Prophet.
This is the context in which Imam al-Husayn declared: “Hayhat minna al-dhillah” or “Far from us is humiliation.” It was not the slogan of a man pursuing conflict for its own sake. It was the refusal of a Maʿsum Imam to legitimise falsehood through unconditional surrender.
Within Shīʿi theology, the issue was not simply political defeat or victory. The Imam is not merely a political figure, but the divinely appointed bearer of religious and moral authority (hujjah). Total submission to the authority of Ibn Ziyād and Yazīd would therefore have carried profound theological implications: it would outwardly signal the subordination of divine moral authority to illegitimate temporal power.
A Maʿsum Imam may choose patience, treaty, migration or strategic restraint depending on circumstance, as seen elsewhere in the lives of the Imams. But what is not possible is that the Imam grants moral legitimacy to falsehood by surrendering absolute authority entrusted to him by God.
Imam al-Husayn therefore represents neither passivity before oppression nor reckless pursuit of conflict. He represents the refusal to surrender truth while exhausting every avenue to prevent bloodshed and social destruction.
Engagement: Betrayal or Sunnah?
This balance is often lost in the age of social media. Many young Muslims encounter suffering through images and rhetoric designed to provoke immediate emotional reaction. Their concern is often sincere. Yet sincerity alone does not make every response wise.
Among some sections of the growing online Muslim youth space, a troubling narrative has emerged: that dialogue is betrayal, that engagement signals weakness and that Muslims should not speak to fellow citizens, faith leaders or civic institutions unless complete political agreement already exists.
This is neither historically nor theologically serious. It mistakes anger for courage, suspicion for principle and isolation for steadfastness.
The idea that dialogue itself represents betrayal has little basis in Islamic history. Muslim scholars throughout the centuries, from Shaykh Mufīd to contemporary times, maintained correspondence, debate and civic engagement with those with whom they held deep theological and political disagreement. This was not viewed as compromise of faith, but as part of akhlāq and communal responsibility.
Dialogue between Muslim scholars and other faith communities is therefore neither new nor exceptional. It forms part of a long and dignified intellectual and ethical tradition rooted in confidence rather than fear.
Difference Without Ethical Collapse
Disagreement is not new within Islamic history, nor within the history of the Shīʿa. Theological debate, political disagreement and intellectual difference have always existed. But the manner in which disagreement is conducted is itself part of religion.
The Qurʾan itself acknowledges difference as part of human existence:
“O mankind, We created you from a male and female and made you peoples and tribes so that you may know one another.” (Qurʾan 49:13)
Difference therefore is not automatically a justification for hostility. Nor does disagreement remove the obligation of justice, dignity and ethical conduct.
If differences emerge within a community, this does not justify rage-baiting, cyber bullying, insults, harassment or threats. Such behaviour falls outside the ethical spirit of Islam and cannot be excused in the name of zeal or sincerity.
Even the obligations of al-amr bi-l-maʿruf wa-l-nahy ʿan al-munkar possess conditions, ethics and limits within Islamic law. Their objective is moral rectification and prevention of harm, not the destruction of people and communal trust through outrage and abuse.
When voices of difference are drowned out through intimidation rather than answered through knowledge, akhlaq and reasoned argument, something deeper is taking place. It reflects not strength of faith, but insecurity, anger and the collapse of ethical discipline.
This stands in stark contrast to the conduct of the Ahl al-Bayt. The Imams did not build communities through humiliation or abuse. Even those who opposed them frequently testified to their dignity, patience and compassion. Imam al-Hasan responded to insults with generosity. Imam Zayn al-ʿAbidīn showed compassion even toward those shaped by Umayyad hostility. Imam al-Sadiq debated opponents with restraint, knowledge and dignity.
What we increasingly witness today in parts of the online space is something very different: rage detached from Islamic ethics, outrage without discipline and hostility masquerading as religious sincerity.
Part of this reflects a deeper crisis of identity. Many young Muslims are attempting to locate certainty and belonging in an age of fragmentation, political trauma and digital hyper-stimulation. Their emotions are often sincere. But sincerity without grounding in scholarship, spirituality and ethical discipline can easily become destructive.
What Does Islamic Law Actually Say?
The discussion surrounding dialogue and engagement cannot be approached merely through emotion or online rhetoric. Within the Shīʿī legal tradition, such questions are examined through recognised principles of usul al-fiqh and qawāʿid fiqhiyyah.
a) Asalat al-Barāʾah and the Burden of Proof
One of the foundational principles of Shīʿī legal theory is that prohibition requires evidence. In the absence of clear proof establishing prohibition, the default state in social dealings remains permissibility. This is discussed through principles such as asalat al-ibahah and asalat al-baraʾah.
Jurists derive this from both rational and transmitted proofs, including the famous Prophetic narration:
“رُفِعَ عَنْ أُمَّتِي مَا لَا يَعْلَمُونَ”
“Rufiʿa ʿan ummatī ma la yaʿlamun.”
“My community has been relieved of that which they do not know.”
Within the usulī framework, this became one of the foundational proofs that legal burden cannot simply be imposed through suspicion, emotion or assumption. Therefore, the burden does not rest upon the one engaging in dialogue to prove permissibility. Rather, the burden lies upon the one claiming such engagement is forbidden.
The Prophet himself did not establish permanent social isolation from those viewed as opponents. He negotiated at Hudaybiyyah, maintained agreements with Jewish tribes in Medina and engaged tribes and delegations holding very different beliefs from Islam.
Likewise, throughout Islamic history, scholars from across the Sunni and Shīʿī traditions engaged in dialogue, correspondence and debate with people with whom they held profound disagreement. This was not viewed as surrender of creed, but as part of akhlāq, wisdom and communal responsibility.
Speaking to someone does not mean accepting their ideas. Dialogue is not theological endorsement. One may fundamentally disagree with another person while still recognising a shared responsibility to prevent hatred, social breakdown and public harm.
b) Muʿamalat Is Not the Same as Muwalat
A crucial distinction exists between muʿamalat (social dealings and civic interaction) and muwalat (religious allegiance and theological identification).
Islamic law permits and at times encourages forms of social cooperation, neighbourliness, dialogue and mutual assistance with those outside one’s immediate religious community. This falls under the category of muʿāmalāt.
Muwalat, however, concerns spiritual and theological loyalty. The existence of one does not automatically imply the other.
To speak respectfully with another community, cooperate upon public welfare or work together against hatred does not constitute surrender of creed or dilution of conviction.
c) Taʾlif al-Qulub and Social Harmony
The Qurʾanic principle of taʾlīf al-qulub: bringing hearts together and reducing hostility, forms an important dimension of Islamic social ethics.
Islamic civilisation historically recognised that preserving social harmony and reducing animosity were legitimate religious aims. This spirit can also be seen in what Shīʿī scholars discussed under mudārātiyyah: conciliatory diplomacy and social conduct rooted in wisdom, dignity and reduction of hostility.
Narrations from Imam Jaʿfar al-Sadiq encourage believers to conduct themselves in ways that beautify the image of the Ahl al-Bayt before wider society.
d) Hifz al-Niẓām and Minority Responsibility
One of the most important discussions in contemporary Shīʿī jurisprudence concerns hifz al-nizam: preservation of social order and prevention of societal breakdown.
Major jurists, including figures such as Abu al-Qasim al-Khoei, treated preservation of public order as a serious legal consideration, particularly where instability would expose people to harm.
This becomes even more significant for Muslims living as minorities.
Unlike majority-Muslim societies, minority communities are often more vulnerable to public hostility, scapegoating and collective suspicion. Reckless rhetoric and social fragmentation affect ordinary families, mosques, women, children and vulnerable members of society first.
For this reason, preserving social cohesion and reducing hostility become not merely political preferences, but religiously relevant concerns.
e) Cooperation and the Limits of Engagement
A further distinction must also be made within Islamic law between ordinary social engagement and conduct that actively enables oppression.
The juristic concern was never simple dialogue or civic interaction in themselves. Rather, the prohibition concerns forms of cooperation that materially assist a ظالم (oppressor) in committing injustice.
This is rooted in the Qurʾānic principle:
“وَلَا تَعَاوَنُوا عَلَى الْإِثْمِ وَالْعُدْوَانِ”
“Do not cooperate in sin and aggression.” (Qurʾan 5:2)
The legal question therefore is not whether Muslims may speak to those with whom they disagree. The question is whether one’s actions directly aid oppression itself.
Classical jurists consistently distinguished between ordinary muʿāmalāt: social dealings, civic interaction and attempts to preserve communal stability and direct participation in zulm.
If this distinction were abandoned entirely, social life itself would become impossible. Muslims throughout history have lived under, alongside and within political systems with which they held varying degrees of disagreement, while still maintaining trade, dialogue, neighbourly relations and efforts to prevent wider harm.
Indeed, this raises a difficult question for those who argue that even speaking for reconciliation necessarily strengthens oppression. How then do they reconcile living within modern states whose taxes may ultimately contribute directly or indirectly to military actions in which innocent civilians and children may be potentially harmed? If unavoidable indirect association alone rendered all engagement unlawful, then ordinary civic existence itself would become nearly impossible.
Islamic law therefore approaches such matters with greater precision. The prohibition concerns directly assisting oppression itself, not every form of contact or coexistence with those with whom one disagrees.
Moral Confidence in an Age of Division
When speaking to young Muslims, I often remind them that disagreement is not new within Islamic history, nor within the history of the Shīʿa. Scholars and communities throughout the centuries often held profound theological, legal and even political differences. Yet despite this, it was comparatively rare to witness the normalisation of personal abuse, public humiliation, attacks upon families or campaigns of vilification conducted in the name of religion.
Part of this reflected a deeper concern for the integrity of both the believer and the faith itself. Private counsel, mediation and quiet reconciliation were often preferred over public escalation and performative outrage. The objective was not victory at any cost, but prevention of fitnah and preservation of hearts.
The Qurʾan describes the Muslim community as “ummatan wasatan” — a community of balance:
“And thus We made you a middle nation so that you may be witnesses over humanity.” (Qurʾan 2:143)
The path of the Prophet and the Ahl al-Bayt embodied this balance: truth with wisdom, justice with restraint, dignity with patience and conviction without cruelty.
That balance is needed now more than ever.
