Reclaiming governance in Muslim world

The early Islamic model of governance was not born out of tribal power politics or hereditary rule. It emerged as a moral revolution grounded in justice, consultation and service of humanity. Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) and the first four caliphs, and later Umar bin Abdul Aziz, governed with an unwavering sense of ethical responsibility, humility and public accountability. Governance was not about control but care; not about commanding obedience but fostering participation.

In the brief period of the rightly guided caliphs, the Islamic polity reflected an egalitarian spirit and collective approach. Leaders were answerable to the people, the treasury was considered a trust, and rulers led austere lives, walking amongst the people as servants rather than as sovereigns. This was a political model unlike any in its time — neither monarchy nor aristocracy, but a values-driven community.

However, the latter part of Caliph Uthman's rule saw the emergence of internal discontent. Though personally upright, his administrative decisions triggered unrest. His tragic assassination opened the floodgates to civil war and the politicisation of religious sentiment. The battle of Siffin, the martyrdom of Ali and the catastrophic events of Karbala signified not just a political crisis but a spiritual rupture. With the rise of Muawiyah and the subsequent appointment of Yazid, the Muslim world entered an era of dynastic succession, consolidating political power at the expense of ethical governance.

For the next twelve centuries, Muslim empires — Umayyad, Abbasid, Fatimid, Mamluk, Safavid, Mughal and Ottoman — developed sophisticated administrative systems, but the spiritual and participatory essence of Islamic governance faded into aristocracy. The caliphate was inherited, power was centralised, dissent was suppressed and religious authority was co-opted to legitimise rulers. While scholars, jurists and reformers occasionally resisted tyranny, they were often silenced, exiled or martyred.

The fall of the Ottoman Caliphate in 1924 did not revive the early model; it simply marked the end of religious legitimacy for dynastic rule. What emerged in its place were nation-states shaped by colonial legacies, military takeovers and externally supported elites. Today, the Muslim world presents a fractured political landscape — ranging from military dictatorships to monarchies, hybrid democracies to theocratic regimes. Few states uphold the Qur'anic principles of justice, consultation or stewardship.

At the heart of this failure lies a deeper malaise: the separation of power from principle. Modern Muslim regimes often invoke Islam in rhetoric but govern through coercion, patronage and fear. The gap between the Qur'anic ideal and contemporary reality is not merely institutional; it is epistemological. We have reduced governance to techniques and processes, abandoning its ethical roots. We mistake power for authority, control for leadership, and ritual for righteousness.

The way forward cannot be a blind return to the past, nor a wholesale adoption of Western liberal models. Instead, it must be a principled reconstruction, drawing from the Qur'an, prophetic example and modern political insights. Justice must be re-centred as the purpose of governance. Leadership must be grounded in merit, not lineage or loyalty. Public accountability must be institutionalised through independent judiciary, free press and empowered civil society.

This is not merely a call for political reform; it is a civilisational imperative. Educational institutions must train future leaders in ethical reasoning, not just managerial competence. Religious scholarship must transcend legalism and engage with questions of governance, rights and pluralism. Citizens must reclaim their role — not as subjects, but as trustees of a moral community regardless of their personal identities. The trust deficit, power gap and income disparity, found today in the Muslim world today, have to be reduced, if not eliminated altogether.

The moral compass of early Islam was never meant to be entombed in nostalgia. It was meant to be renewed with courage, wisdom and collective will. Only then can the Muslim world move from the shadows of inherited power toward a future of principled leadership and just governance.