The Western world today grapples with a paradox: it champions liberty as its highest ideal, yet its moral framework lies fractured. This is not merely a political or social crisis but a collapse of the very logic underpinning ethics. Historically, societies like Athens and Rome balanced reason (‘aql) and religion (din), but the West’s trajectory since the Renaissance—marked by Martin Luther’s religious reforms and the Enlightenment’s glorification of human reason—culminated in the French Revolution’s outright rejection of religion. Religion was reduced to tradition, stripped of its authority, and the mind (‘aql) was elevated as the sole arbiter of truth. But if every individual’s mind defines morality, how can society unite? Democracy emerged as a solution: “Let all minds rule!” Yet this led to new contradictions.
Democracy’s principle of “majority rule” soon clashed with minority rights. To resolve this, liberalism adopted John Locke’s harm principle: “Your freedom ends where another’s begins.” John Stuart Mill later refined this, but critical questions remain: Who defines “harm”? Does it extend to children, animals, or societal norms? If the majority decides, liberalism becomes tyrannical; if individuals decide, society fractures into moral anarchy. Worse, liberalism reduces freedom to a subjective, ever-shifting ideal detached from virtue (fadilah) or transcendent values. Freedom becomes a license for desire (raghbah), not a path to justice (‘adalah).
Secularism (‘ilmaniyyah) claims to separate religion from governance, but in practice, it often replaces divine authority with human dictatorship (e.g., Saddam Hussein). The French Revolution’s secularism promised liberation but bred alienation. By reducing life to material and scientific logic, it dismisses emotions (‘atifah) and relationships—cornerstones of human existence. Appeals to “humanity” as a moral reference (marji‘iyyah insaniyyah) fail where cultural relativism (marji‘iyyah thaqafiyyah) takes over. Without shared principles, even well-intentioned actions clash.
Islam offers a radically different framework. Freedom (hurriyyah) in Islam is inseparable from tawhid (monotheism). To worship Allah alone is to reject all forms of slavery—to desires, people, or systems. True freedom is liberation for righteousness, not from constraints. As the Quran recounts, every society’s moral decay mirrors the struggles of prophets against shirk (idolatry), which manifests not just in worship but in subservience to materialism, ego, or ideology.
Liberalism’s “freedom from” risks anarchy; Islam’s “freedom for” demands accountability. For example, individualism—a liberal ideal—breeds selfishness, eroding communal bonds. In contrast, Islam obligates believers to enjoin good and forbid evil (al-amr bi-l-ma‘ruf wa-n-nahy ‘an al-munkar), creating a society where moral critique is an act of care, not oppression.
Western movements like feminism frame rights through liberty, not justice. But “rights” unmoored from ‘adalah become demands for privilege (imtiyazat), not equity. Islam grounds rulings (ahkam) in divine justice, ensuring rights are balanced duties. For instance, gender roles in Islam are complementary, not hierarchical—a stark contrast to liberalism’s adversarial framing of “man vs. woman.”
The West’s crisis stems from abandoning fitrah—humanity’s innate moral compass. When societies detach freedom from virtue, they descend into moral chaos. Islam, by contrast, ties freedom to submission to the Divine, transforming liberty from a license into liberation. As the Quran states, “True servants of the Merciful are those who walk humbly on Earth” (25:63). Freedom without justice is tyranny; justice without divine guidance is illusion. Only by anchoring ethics in transcendence can societies truly thrive.