2.1 Wilāya and Wālī?

Islamic jurisprudence uses a variety of terms to refer to the concept of governance, including wilāya, ḥukm, salṭana/sulṭān, khilāfa, and imāma, among others (Fadel 2009). The term wilāya, when dissected linguistically and conceptually, reveals nuanced distinctions in its meaning compared to related terms. Deriving from the Arabic root w-l-y, it fundamentally implies closeness and proximity (al-Fayyūmī 1989, 672; Ibn Fāris 1991, 141). The word walī, in this context, signifies both “friend” and “ruler” (al-Jawharī 1989, 2:672), and wilāya conveys a sense of “authority” (salṭana) (al-Jawharī 1989, 6:530) and “friendship” (Ibn Manẓūr 1993, 15:407). Ibn Manẓūr (d. 711/1311), quoting Ibn al-Athīr (d. 606/1210), elaborates that wilāya embodies concepts of resourcefulness, power, and the capacity to act. Consequently, one lacking these attributes cannot be regarded as a walī (Ibn Manẓūr 1993, 15:407). Muṣṭafawī (d. 2005), a distinguished contemporary lexicographer, asserts that according to traditional lexicons, the primary connotation of wilāya is that of something being positioned adjacent to something else while maintaining a relational linkage between them. Notions such as proximity, friendship, allegiance, and affection are all manifestations and extensions of this core meaning. In the context of guardianship, wilāya denotes a scenario where one individual is positioned beside another, with the underlying nature of the relationship being the management and supervision of the latter’s affairs by the former (Muṣṭafawī 1982, 13:203). Thus, wilāya can be understood as the act of overseeing and administering the affairs of another, while walī denotes the individual entrusted with such responsibilities. The etymological analysis of wilāya reveals that authority and guardianship are not necessarily exerted directly over a person but rather over that person’s affairs, which stems from the intimate relationship between the walī and the muwallā ʿalayh (the one under his jurisdiction). This type of proximity, which inherently includes authority over the other, may either originate from the muwallā ʿalayh himself or from a higher divine source – God, the ultimate sovereign of the universe.

The distinction between wilāya and its synonymous terms can be identified in two dimensions: 1) it signifies the origin of sovereignty and guardianship, asserting that the relationship between the wālī and the muwallā ʿalayh is the catalyst for the emergence of wilāya; and 2) it addresses the emotional component of the relationship, highlighting how the proximity between the wālī and the muwallā ʿalayh forges a reciprocal relationship characterized by mutual closeness and affinity.

However, the transition from the linguistic sense of proximity to a political-juristic concept requires a historical and doctrinal bridge. In the Islamic intellectual tradition, wilāya underwent a significant conceptual evolution, emerging as a formalized category of public authority known as al-wilāya al-ʿāmma. This shift occurred as jurists sought to define the legal basis for communal leadership and the enforcement of divine law over the polity. Within this framework, wilāya was reconstructed not merely as a personal bond, but as the supreme power to administer collective affairs. It is this specific jurisprudential manifestation of political wilāya – as a centralized legal authority – that allows for a functional analogy with modern political sovereignty, despite their differing philosophical origins.

In a political context, the concept of wilāya might be analogized to the modern notion of “sovereignty” or “governance.” The term “sovereignty,” first systematically employed by Jean Bodin (Saporta and Bodin 2015, 254), primarily denotes the ultimate authority and supreme power upon which governmental functions are predicated. This modern concept aligns with the Arabic term siyāda, which similarly emphasizes control and supremacy. However, unlike wilāya, the contemporary notion of sovereignty disregards the emotional and relational dimensions, focusing exclusively on the structural and coercive aspects of authority and governance.

2.2 Ethics from a Juristic Perspective and Its Implementation in Wālī and Wilāya

The examination of ethics within Islamic jurisprudence requires an exploration of its conceptualization. To address the conceptual boundaries of this study, it is essential to define Islamic ethics (akhlāq) in distinction from Islamic jurisprudence (fiqh). While akhlāq focuses on the internal dispositions of the soul (malakāt) and the pursuit of spiritual perfection, fiqh is primarily concerned with the legal rulings (aḥkām) that govern external conduct and ritual compliance. In the context of wilāya, this distinction is pivotal: the wālī’s ethics involves not just his personal piety (akhlāq), but his adherence to the legal-functional standards of justice (ʿadāla) required by fiqh. Furthermore, the methodological choice to discuss Western philosophical frameworks before establishing the Islamic ethical framework is intended to create an analytical bridge. Since the modern understanding of governance and “sovereignty” is deeply rooted in Western political thought, providing this background first facilitates a clearer articulation of how traditional Islamic concepts can be reconstructed and adapted to contemporary political discourse.

Jurisprudence provides a framework from which one may infer a definition of ethics. If such a definition is not explicitly derived from jurisprudential sources, the ethics of wilāya must be established through the lens of Islamic ethics. In Western philosophy, the discourse on ethics is fundamentally characterized by the distinction between two primary frameworks: virtue ethics and deontological ethics. Virtue ethics, rooted in the Aristotelian tradition, focuses on the cultivation of moral character and views justice as an internal excellence or a state of the soul. In contrast, deontological ethics shifts the focus toward universal moral duties and adherence to rational principles, where justice is defined by conformity to the moral law regardless of internal character or consequences. Distinguishing between these two is crucial for this analysis, as Islamic jurisprudence (fiqh) often shares more common ground with the rule-based logic of deontology, whereas Islamic philosophical ethics (falsafa) is more aligned with the character-based approach of virtue ethics.

Muslim scholars approached ethics from two primary perspectives: the philosophical (falsafa), which drew heavily on the Greek intellectual tradition, and the scriptural (naqlī), grounded in Qurʾānic and Prophetic teachings. The philosophical tradition, exemplified by figures such as al-Fārābī (d. 339/950) and Ibn Sīnā (d. 428/1037) (e.g., Ibn Sīnā 1984a, 93; al-Suhrawardī 1996, 2:14), engaged with virtue ethics, often discussing justice as an encompassing internal virtue in a manner reminiscent of Aristotle (d. 322 BC). The scriptural and jurisprudential traditions, however, took a different path (e.g., al-Bukhārī 1999; Ibn Taymiyya 1999). In jurisprudence (fiqh), justice (ʿadāla) is not primarily treated as a philosophical virtue, but rather as a verifiable legal status and a functional qualification for specific public roles (e.g., a witness or a judge). This is evident in the jurisprudential emphasis on justice as a set of externally observable behaviors (such as avoiding major sins) rather than an internal state of character. It is this legal-functional understanding of justice, not a virtue-ethical one, that provides the grounds for the distinction between personal and governmental justice, which is central to this article’s analysis.

An analysis of juristic sources reveals the implicit meaning of “ethics” within this field. After defining ethical character, the next logical step is to apply this concept to the domain of wilāya and the wālī (governor) character.

In jurisprudence, ethics is primarily associated with justice (ʿadāla) (al-Rāfiʿī 1997, 4:229; al-Ruʿayānī 1996, 1:462; al-Sarakhsī 1986, 6:137; al-Maqdisī 1984, 1:671; al-Muḥaqqiq al-Ḥillī 1988, 1:151). Simply put, justice is the attribute that defines an ethical individual – one who upholds virtues and avoids vices. In traditional ethics, justice is interpreted in two ways: first, as the virtue encompassing all other virtues, and second, as a virtue in conjunction with others. For example, in the latter view, Aristotle posits that justice is the balance between excess and deficiency.

In contemporary moral philosophy, while some monistic theories attempt to reduce all ethical duties to a single fundamental principle, there is a significant argument for ethical pluralism. A key reference for this is Immanuel Kant’s (d. 1804) “principle of humanity” (the second formulation of the categorical imperative). According to this principle, one must treat humanity, whether in one’s own person or in that of another, always as an end and never merely as a means (Kant 2012, 25). This suggests that dignity and self-respect are rooted in the intrinsic value of the person as an autonomous agent, rather than being mere sub-categories of distributive or reciprocal justice. In this context, ideals such as benevolence (iḥsān) and assistance represent ethical dimensions that transcend the strict logic of justice. Nevertheless, within the framework of Islamic jurisprudence (fiqh), justice (ʿadāla) remains the most functional and comprehensive term to encapsulate the ethical conduct of the wālī. Occasionally, the term taqwā is used to describe this concept (al-Shāfiʿī 1996, 57; al-Dasūqī 1987, 1:7; al-Qāsānī 1984, 1:12; al-Ardabīlī 1995, 556).

Accordingly, the concept of “ethics” in jurisprudence is synonymous with the virtue of ʿadāla (justice). In the context of governance, wilāya, questions about the wālī’s ethics are essentially an inquiry into the “justice”/ʿadāla of the wālī.

2.3 The Kind of Justice Required of the Governor

In this section, two main opinions will be discussed:

2.4 The Scopes of the Wālī’s Ethical Commitments

The distinction between personal and governmental ethics reveals that the ethical principles governing political wilāya fundamentally differ from those of individual ethics. This separation suggests that political ʿadāla operates under distinct ethical guidelines compared to individual ʿadāla, which acknowledges the potential conflict between these two sets of principles. This idea brings us to a critical dialogue between the Aristotelian tradition of virtue ethics and the Machiavellian approach of political expediency. While Aristotle prioritizes ethics in cases where political expediency clashes with ethical imperatives, Machiavelli approaches political ethics from the standpoint of state necessity (Paul et al. 2004, vii). Machiavelli argues that political behavior is neither inherently good nor evil; rather, its ethical character depends on the context and the needs of the state. In this sense, Machiavelli advocates for a form of consequentialist ethics in the political sphere. As Skinner (1978, 184) notes, the gap between Machiavelli and his contemporaries is not a matter of ethical versus unethical politics, but rather between “two separate ethics – two conflicting and irreconcilable notions of what ought to be done in the end.” For Machiavelli, the prince’s chief objectives should be to “maintain his rule,” “engage in significant activities,” and “rise to the highest ranks of pride and glory” (Hösle 1989, 54). Machiavelli’s primary concern is the harsh reality that if the prince adheres to virtuous traits without exception, he will ultimately “find them harmful” (Giorgini 2013, 630).

A controversial parallel to this consequentialist reasoning emerged in contemporary Shīʿī political jurisprudence through āyat Allāh Ruḥ Allāh al-Khumaynī’s (d. 1989) concept of state necessity (maṣlaḥat-i niẓām). By asserting that “Government … is one of the primary rulings of Islam and precedes all other rulings, even prayer, fasting, and ḥajj” (al-Khumaynī 2010, 452), al-Khumaynī’s theory appears to grant the preservation of the state a status that can override other Sharīʿa rulings and ethical principles. From a structural standpoint, this prioritization of outcome (state preservation) over fixed rules bears a resemblance to Machiavellian consequentialism.

However, this comparison must be qualified. Unlike Machiavelli’s framework, which is detached from divine law, al-Khumaynī’s theory operates entirely within an Islamic worldview. Furthermore, this expansive view of maṣlaḥa stands in tension with numerous Qurʾānic injunctions that command the establishment of justice (ʿadl and qisṭ) among the people as a primary goal of governance (e.g., Q 4:58, 5:8, 57:25). While a full exploration of this debate is beyond our scope, it is impossible to address the ethical dimensions of political wilāya today without acknowledging this consequentialist turn and the profound questions it raises regarding the limits of political authority in Islam.

The central question is whether separating political and individual ʿadāla implies such an interpretation of the wālī’s ethical commitments and responsibilities. In other words, if the interests of the people in the governmental domain require actions that would be deemed unethical for an individual, such as lying, should personal ethics take precedence over national interests? The answer depends on the ethical framework one adopts. For those who follow a consequentialist approach, goals and expediencies may justify unethical actions. However, from a duty-based or virtue-based perspective, unethical behavior cannot be excused, even when serving a desirable purpose.

Based on the division between individual and governmental ʿadāla, what is permissible in one domain – such as lying in private matters – may also be deemed permissible in the public and political arena under certain circumstances. Jurisprudence, which classifies rulings into foundational (awwaliyya) and secondary (thānawiyya) categories, refers to these exceptional circumstances as “secondary rules.” “Secondary rulings” (al-ʿanāwīn al-thānawiyya) in Twelver Shīʿī jurisprudence encompass all factors that may alter primary rulings under particular circumstances. However, no comparably comprehensive term exists in Sunnī jurisprudence for the factors that modify primary rulings. Although Sunnī legal thought does address all grounds for legal modification – such as necessity (ḍarūra), extreme hardship (iḍṭirār), coercion (ikrāh), and conflict of obligations (tazāḥum) – it does not employ a single overarching term equivalent to the Shīʿī notion of al-ʿanāwīn al-thānawiyya. This term became widespread in Shīʿī jurisprudence in the thirteenth/nineteenth century through the writings of Muḥammad Taqī al-Iṣfahānī (d. 1348/1949) (al-Iṣfahānī 2008, 237), and it has since been the subject of various studies. Among contemporary Shīʿī jurists, Nāṣir Makārim al-Shīrāzī (b. 1927) has offered an extensive treatment of al-ʿanāwīn al-thānawiyya (Shīrāzī 2004, 487–506). Secondary rulings apply in situations where primary rulings are not enforceable due to factors such as necessity (ḍarūra), compulsion (iḍṭirār), hardship (ḥaraj), or conflicts between more and less important considerations (al-taʿāruḍ bayn al-muhimm wa-l-ahamm) (al-Ḥakīm 1979, 69).

The logic underlying the concept of al-ʿanāwīn al-thānawiyya suggests that the special circumstances that warrant modifying primary rulings may appear differently in the domain of governance than in the life of an ordinary individual. Consequently, actions that would ordinarily be deemed ethically impermissible for a private citizen may, due to the application of such secondary designations, become permissible for a ruler. This conclusion follows naturally from the logic underpinning the acceptance of ʿanāwīn thānawiyya in Shīʿī jurisprudence as well as from the rationale for accepting legal-modifying factors in Sunnī jurisprudence. This suggests that, from a jurisprudential standpoint, the ethical obligations of private individuals and political actors can be seen as operating under distinct, though not entirely independent, frameworks.

It is imperative to recognize that the permission to commit an unethical act under certain circumstances does not imply that the act becomes virtuous or justifiable; rather, it indicates that a less desirable or suboptimal outcome must be tolerated to achieve a greater good. Jurists often reference the well-known example of rescuing a drowning individual, which may necessitate breaking into their home. Although trespassing is inherently unethical, an exception is made in such an emergency, given the overriding necessity of saving a life.

Another dimension of wilāya that warrants exploration pertains to its scope. Two questions underscore the importance of this discussion: first, why must the imām possess personal justice if he is not directly involved in the populace’s affairs (whether his agents are just or not)? Second, how is personal justice defined if wilāya is regarded as an institutional concept?

In addressing these inquiries, it is essential to note that wilāya and the term wālī encompass not only the principal wālī but also the entire cadre of officials appointed to manage affairs. By their proximity to the main wālī and those under his jurisdiction (muwallā ʿalayh), these officials – not merely the supreme ruler – collectively hold the mantle of wilāya in a political sense tied to governance. In a pre-modern context, where governance is seen as a personal duty, the ethical responsibilities of the principal wālī extend to all agents under his authority. This principle holds even when wilāya is delegated, signifying that the ethical conduct required of the principal wālī applies wherever his authority extends, and for that reason, the jurists required that the ruler only appoint to public office persons having the virtue of justice, ʿadāla. From a modern perspective, where the state is viewed as an institution, the ethics of the government is evaluated at the institutional level, incorporating all officials, not solely the supreme ruler (Bowman 1990, 345).

Muslim jurists have explicitly acknowledged applying the principles of wilāya to all agents and officials. Al-Farrāʾ categorizes the agents of the wālī into four types: deputies overseeing all affairs (ministers), those responsible for a particular region (such as emirs), those tasked with specific functions at a national level (like judges or military commanders), and those assigned to particular sub-national fields (such as local judges or commanders). Each type’s wilāya is defined by the nature of their duties (al-Farrāʾ 2000, 28). Al-Qalqashandī notes that it was customary for the principal wālī to document each agent’s wilāya in their investiture. This practice persisted until the end of the ʿAbbāsid caliphate (al-Qalqashandī 2006, 80). Ibn al-Ukhuwwa (d. 729/1328) further observes that jurists referred to governmental positions using the term wilāya, such as in wilāyat al-ḥisba, indicating the authority granted to serve in a particular office on behalf of the principal wālī (Ibn al-Ukhuwwa n.d., 51). Aḥmad ibn Ḥanbal alludes to a significant principle whereby the agents and administrators of the wālī share in his wilāya and responsibilities (Ibn Ḥanbal 1991, 2, 521). Al-Māwardī concurs, asserting that the minister and other officials bear some of the burden of the principal wālī’s duties and hold similar authority (al-Māwardī 2006, 53).

In Shīʿī tradition, the concept of wilāya extends to the agency of officials, a notion echoed by Shīʿī jurists. They often refer to a well-known narration in which imām Jaʿfar ibn Muḥammad al-Ṣādiq distinguishes between two forms of wilāya: the divinely ordained wilāya of just rulers and the wilāya of oppressive rulers. This distinction underscores the ethical implications of wilāya, making it clear that the rightful wilāya extends to both the ruler and his agents, with the condition that the agents’ wilāya is limited to actions in harmony with the ruler’s directives and principles.

3.1 Benevolence to the Wālī of the Muslims (al-Naṣīḥa li-Aʾimmat al-Muslimīn)

This concept originates from a well-known ḥadīth attributed to the Prophet, which states: “A Muslim’s heart does not harbor ill-will towards three things: sincerity in deeds for God, giving advice to the leaders of the Muslims, and maintaining company and cooperation with the Muslim community” (Ibn Māja 2003, 1:84). The term naṣīḥa, derived from this tradition, is generally understood to mean “benevolence” (Ibn Manẓūr 1993, 2:615), encompassing any act or speech undertaken with the intention of benefitting another. Linguistically, the term originates from the Arabic expression naṣaḥa al-ʿasal, meaning to refine honey, which implies that the advice given by the adviser (nāṣiḥ) is free from any impurities and motivated purely by goodwill towards the recipient (al-Jawharī 1989, 5:411).

Some scholars have suggested an alternative origin for the term, linking it to naṣaḥa al-thawb, which means sewing or mending clothes. In this analogy, the adviser acts as a tailor, repairing the torn or worn-out aspects of a person’s life, thereby preventing further deterioration (Ibn Fāris 1991, 5:435).

Some jurists, such as al-Azharī (d. 1335/1917) (al-Azharī 1991, 23) and al-Māzandarānī (d. 1086/1675) (al-Māzandarānī 2003, 7:15), have interpreted naṣīḥa as being synonymous with obedience to the wālī, as well as supporting and encouraging others to follow him. This interpretation, however, is not universally accepted. Even scholars who equate naṣīḥa with obedience, like al-Māzandarānī, still assert that any action that benefits the wālī constitutes valid counsel (al-Māzandarānī 2003, 7:16). The broader view, as emphasized by figures like Ibn al-Athīr (1983, 5:64), is that the concept cannot be confined to a single interpretation and can include various forms of benevolence.

Criticizing or pointing out shortcomings, even opposing the wālī when necessary, can be considered forms of naṣīḥa if they serve his interests in both temporal and spiritual matters. The lexicographer al-Ṭurayḥī (d. 1085/1675) affirms that advice, even if perceived as undesirable by the recipient, ultimately benefits them (al-Ṭurayḥī 1995, 2:418). Al-Nawawī, a prominent Shāfiʿī jurist, expands on this, asserting that advice to Muslim leaders includes assisting them in upholding the truth, obeying them, offering constructive criticism, guiding them, and reminding them of their responsibilities (al-Nawawī 1987b, 2:38). Ibn al-Athīr maintains that leaders must be obeyed only when they act justly but also insists that they should not be opposed, even when they act oppressively. Conversely, he suggests that advice to the general Muslim population involves guiding them toward their interests (Ibn al-Athīr 1983, 5:64). It is perplexing, however, that naṣīḥa is defined differently for the wālī and the general populace – entailing submission in the case of the latter but advocacy for the interests of the former. Moreover, how can one claim that refraining from challenging oppressive authorities is an act of benevolence when such actions undermine their effectiveness in this world and lead to their downfall in the hereafter?

Ibn Manẓūr critiques this view, arguing:

Ibn al-Athīr asserts that obedience to rulers is an instance of naṣīḥa only when they act rightly. But why then does he link obedience to righteousness, only to later state that rulers should not be opposed even when they commit injustice? This suggests that any act of disobedience is prohibited, even when rulers act unjustly, thereby making obedience obligatory in all cases.

Ibn Manẓūr 1993, 2:616

Furthermore, naṣīḥa (advice) diverges from obedience, though obedience and occasional deference may sometimes be forms of benevolence. Obedience entails the strict adherence to commands, encompassing actions dictated by others’ directives, often requiring one to relinquish personal judgment. This relinquishment is integral to the essence of obedience. In contrast, such constraints do not characterize the realm of naṣīḥa. The nāṣiḥ (adviser) is neither subservient nor acquiescent; instead, he conveys his perspectives based on informed judgment and discernment, regardless of the reception by the addressee. Accordingly, religious leaders distinguish between obedience and naṣīḥa in their exhortations. For example, imām ʿAlī addressed the assembly, declaring, “My right over you is to uphold the pledge of loyalty, to provide naṣīḥa (advice) to me both privately and openly, to respond when I summon you, and to obey when I command” (al-Sharīf al-Raḍī 1993, 44).

The governance style of the Prophet and the rightly-guided caliphs (al-khulafāʾ al-rāshidūn) was therefore grounded in the principle of al-naṣīḥa li-aʾimmat al-muslimīn (offering advice to the leaders of the Muslims), a practice they not only permitted but actively encouraged. This openness to critique is exemplified within both Shīʿī and Sunnī traditions (see, for instance, al-Kulaynī, 1986, 1:403–447; al-Bayhaqī 2003, 8:163–167).

Understanding naṣīḥa in its broader sense, as a form of benevolence, clarifies the application of this term in various contexts, such as naṣīḥa directed toward God and the Prophet, which has often been interpreted as an unreserved submission. While obedience to God and the Prophet exemplifies naṣīḥa, it does not equate naṣīḥa with mere obedience. Benevolence toward God and the Prophet mandates complete and faultless adherence to their teachings, for they are divinely free from error.

Public naṣīḥa is a powerful mechanism of restraint and accountability, shaping a governance style wherein the leader is publicly accountable for his conduct. When a leader anticipates that his actions will be subject to examination and critique, he is more inclined to conduct himself in ways that stand up to such scrutiny. This principle grants society the right to assess, express dissent, and hold its leaders accountable. In essence, an Islamic ruler must remain vigilant, recognizing that the people will rigorously observe and evaluate his words and deeds.

In a contemporary context, the principle of naṣīḥa transcends mere personal advice to the ruler and finds expression in modern institutional mechanisms. It can be seen as the traditional basis for freedom of speech, a free and critical press, the role of parliamentary opposition, and the function of independent civic institutions that hold the government accountable. These modern mechanisms serve as the institutionalized form of naṣīḥa, ensuring that counsel and critique are not dependent on the ruler’s personal willingness to listen but are embedded in the very structure of the state.

3.2 Civil Disobedience in Response to Unethical Commands

Conditioning obedience to the wālī upon the ethical integrity of his instructions constitutes a fundamental mechanism of accountability within Islamic governance, as will be demonstrated in the jurisprudential analysis below. Consequently, it becomes imperative to withhold compliance when commands infringe upon the principles of Sharīʿa and ethics. This framework is a deterrent against the issuance of unethical and unlawful orders, with substantial evidence underpinning its validity.

As articulated in the discussion of the wālī’s ethical mandate, one might infer that only directives that contravene wilāʾī (governmental) ʿadāla (justice) warrant defiance, implying that compliance is otherwise required in instances where commands pertain to personal and non-public matters. For example, the wālī may direct an individual to engage in personal conduct that contravenes lawful standards. However, none of the wālī’s unethical directives – whether personal, political, or social – impose an obligation of obedience, as such orders represent an abuse of power. In his capacity as a wālī, he issues commands and enforces prohibitions, all of which derive their legitimacy from his governmental position. Consequently, any unethical orders from the wālī stand in opposition to justice, as they transgress the authorized bounds of his office. If he were not in this official capacity, he would lack the authority to issue such commands and compel adherence. This foundational principle – that authority-based commands possess a wilāʾī dimension – may be drawn from the well-known narration reported by al-Bukhārī (d. 256/870) and Muslim (d. 261/875):

Abū Ḥumayd al-Sāʿidī (d. 60/680) recounts that the Prophet appointed an agent who, upon returning from his mission, divided the goods in his possession, stating, “This portion goes to the treasury, and this is a gift given to me.” The Prophet, in a display of indignation, replied, “Would you have received these gifts had you remained at your parents’ house? What is the meaning of this behavior from our agent who returns and makes such claims? Would he have been granted such gifts if he had stayed at his mother’s house?”

al-Bukhārī 1981, 7:219; Muslim 2003, 6:11

This account spurred jurists to formulate the doctrine of hadiyyat al-ʿummāl (gifts for the agents), decisively ruling that gift-giving to wālīs and other public officials is either disfavored (makrūh) or explicitly forbidden (ḥarām), as such practices hinge upon the official’s positional authority (see, e.g., Ibn ʿĀbidīn 1992, 5:471; al-Ṭūsī 1967, 8:151). Thus, every action and directive of a governmental wālī, including his commands, acquires a political and wilāʾī character. This principle is further corroborated by juristic fatwās prohibiting even indirect support for oppressors, irrespective of the permissibility of the specific matter (see, e.g., al-Shirwānī 1992, 10:22; al-Anṣārī 1995, 2:56–57).

Consider the following instance: Ibn Abī Yaʿfūr (d. 131/749) recounted an occasion when he was with imām Jaʿfar ibn Muḥammad as a man approached, querying about a believer requested by the government to repair a building, clean a water channel or level a rough alleyway in return for wages. Jaʿfar ibn Muḥammad responded unequivocally, “By God, I would not even bring a water skin for the governor, even if they offered me all of Medina as compensation” (al-Kulaynī 1986, 5:107). A Sunnī example similarly underscores this ethos: “On the Day of Judgment, a herald shall proclaim, ‘Where are the aides of the tyrannical rulers?’ He will summon them all, including anyone who prepared ink or sharpened a pen for the oppressor’s orders” (al-Rāzī 2000, 10:141).

These strict prohibitions against aiding oppressors might seem to conflict with other statements that emphasize the necessity of political order at all costs. A prominent example is the statement attributed to imām ʿAlī that “a tyrannical ruler is better than perpetual chaos and anarchy” (al-Sharīf al-Raḍī 1993, 48). However, it is crucial to understand the context of this latter statement. Imām ʿAlī’s assertion was a response to the Kharijīs, who rejected any form of government, effectively advocating for anarchy. In refuting them, he highlighted the rational necessity of governance itself, positing that even a bad ruler is preferable to societal chaos. His intent was not to grant legitimacy to tyrannical rule or to suggest that subjects are free to support any ruler they wish.

Thus, this mechanism of civil disobedience against unethical commands differentiates the ideal of political wilāya from both autocratic and democratic forms of governance. In autocratic regimes, compliance with the ruler is unconditional, disregarding adherence to Sharīʿa and ethical standards. In democratic systems, the majority’s vote is the ultimate arbiter, with the minority obligated to comply, irrespective of ethical considerations. Although democratic frameworks are not universally reducible to this majoritarian model, and specific communitarian interpretations of democracy diverge from it, this critique remains relevant to a conception of democracy rooted in the majority’s rule (Kymlicka 1990, 120–132; Glass et al. 2012, 98).

However, it is essential to consider narratives asserting that submission to the ruler is obligatory regardless of whether his commands contravene divine will, ethical norms, or wilāʾī justice. As previously noted, many of these narratives may be interpreted as referring to personal immorality rather than wilāʾī or governmental immorality. Nonetheless, certain narrations explicitly cite instances of wilāʾī immorality.

One narration, for example, recounts the Prophet’s instruction to obey an amīr who denies his people their rights (Muslim 2003, 6:20) or inflicts harm upon them and seizes their property (al-Bayhaqī 2003, 8:158). Such narrations are present in both Sunnī and Shīʿī sources (see Abū Dāwūd 1990, 2:17; Abū Yūsuf 1979, 10; al-Ḥurr al-ʿĀmilī 1988, 15:50–57).

These accounts evidently conflict with the Qurʾānic injunctions against following oppressors (e.g., Q 26:151–152, 18:28, 76:24, 33:67). They also stand in opposition to numerous narratives prohibiting adherence to commands that involve ḥarām and sin (Ibn Ḥanbal 1991, 1:94), mandating that obedience to a ruler is contingent upon his promotion of virtuous and ethical behavior (Muslim 2003, 6:18), or explicitly prohibiting a leader who promotes vice and immorality (Muslim 2003, 6:18), and advising against compliance with an amīr issuing unlawful orders (al-Ṣanʿānī 1982, 11:335).

In this light, civil disobedience emerges as not merely a legitimate but a necessary mechanism for safeguarding justice and ethical integrity within the framework of wilāya.

The discourse surrounding obedience or defiance of the wālī’s decrees presents us with three distinct categories of narratives: one category that considers obedience as mandatory even in immoral commands; a second, which unequivocally prohibits obedience to immoral directives; and a third that, without clarification about immoral commands, declares obedience to the wālī as obligatory. In resolving this apparent conflict, jurists employ several hermeneutical principles. The first category of narrations is often dismissed or interpreted as context-specific, given its direct contradiction with fundamental Qurʾānic principles of justice and the overwhelming weight of the second category, which boasts more robust transmission chains and textual authenticity. Subsequently, the unconditional commands of the third group are interpreted through the lens of the second, conditional group. In the parlance of uṣūl al-fiqh, this is termed ḥaml al-muṭlaq ʿalā al-muqayyad (specifying the unconditional through the conditional). This means that a general command to “obey the ruler” is specified to mean “obey the ruler as long as the command does not entail a sin.” A classic example from jurisprudence illustrates this method. If one tradition states, “The traveler shortens their prayers” (al-musāfir yuqaṣṣir), this is an absolute command. If another tradition specifies, “One whose journey is for the purpose of sin does not shorten [their prayers],” this is a conditional ruling. Jurists harmonize these by interpreting the absolute command through the lens of the conditional one, concluding that prayers are shortened only if the travel is not for a sinful purpose.

This juristic method prioritizes the foundational principle prohibiting disobedience to God, thereby clarifying the limits of political obligation.

Understanding the spectrum of responses to a wālī’s unethical commands, from passive noncompliance to active dissent, is crucial. However, the key to selecting an appropriate response lies in adhering to established criteria. Noncompliance is generally suitable for less severe legal transgressions, while protest is warranted when the directives constitute serious breaches that noncompliance alone cannot sufficiently redress. Moreover, when the ruler’s actions pose grave risks to the community’s ethical and religious integrity, as well as to national interests and values, outright rebellion may become a justified recourse.

Nevertheless, the mere issuance of an unethical order does not suffice to warrant the immediate removal of the wālī, nor does a minor transgression, an act of oppression, or a directive that induces sin or injustice automatically justify rebellion. Non-infallible rulers, by nature, are prone to errors, misjudgments, and transgressions, often perceiving their decisions as defensible within their interpretative frameworks. Thus, actions to depose or rebel against such a ruler, or even to engage in civil disobedience, require carefully defined standards. Without these, such responses risk undermining Muslim governance and social cohesion, fostering disorder, violence, and division throughout every region and district.

Therefore, it is crucial to understand that jurisprudential literature specifies several criteria to determine when a violation by a ruler justifies dissent or rebellion. These criteria are essential for distinguishing between minor transgressions and major breaches of the political contract. One contemporary Shīʿī jurist enumerates the fundamental violations as follows:

A ruler may deviate in a radical and essential manner from the standards of Islam and justice; become ethically dissolute and unrestrained; ground his governance in despotism and personal caprice; appropriate “the wealth of God” by circulating it among a privileged faction; reduce God’s servants to subjugation; or become an instrument of colonial powers by implementing the agendas of unbelievers and foreign actors, thereby enabling them to dominate the political, cultural, and economic spheres of Muslim society.

al-Muntaẓarī 1988, 1:594

In short, fundamental violations refer to actions that, at a foundational level, undermine the essential principles of Islam – such as the overt promotion of unbelief, the alteration of established Sharīʿa rulings, or the commission of systemic and widespread injustice (ẓulm).

Manifesting this principle in a modern state with institutionalized checks and balances requires a different approach than in a pre-modern autocracy. While traditional civil disobedience might have involved direct, individual refusal to obey, its contemporary form includes leveraging constitutional courts to strike down unjust laws, organized public protests and strikes protected by law, and the use of judicial review to challenge executive overreach. These mechanisms represent the institutionalization of the right to disobey unethical commands, transforming it from a personal ethical duty into a legally protected civil right.

3.3 Constant Supervision and Moral Oversight: Enjoining Right and Forbidding Wrong

Continuous public oversight and ethical scrutiny of governance form a foundational mechanism for ensuring the ethical accountability of the wālī. The Sharīʿa imperative to enjoin what is right and forbid what is wrong (al-amr bi-l-maʿrūf wa-l-nahy ʿan al-munkar) stands as a primary institutional instrument for maintaining ongoing supervision over the ruler’s conduct.

In classical juristic sources, this principle is predominantly discussed within interpersonal relationships among citizens. At broader social and national levels, it is traditionally approached under the presumption that the government directs its populace toward virtue while proscribing vice. Consequently, early jurists attributed the establishment of an institution known as ḥisba – charged with promoting virtue and preventing vice among the populace – to the caliph and grand governor (e.g., al-Farrāʾ 2000, 284; al-Māwardī 2006, 240; Ibn al-Ukhuwwa n.d., 7–8; al-Kattānī 2000, 1:286). According to these scholars, the origins of ḥisba trace back to the time of the Prophet and the early caliphs, as various sources recount instances in which the Prophet himself assumed responsibility for ḥisba (al-Tirmidhī 1983, 2:389; Abū Dāwūd 1990, 2:244; al-Bukhārī 1981, 3:20).

However, the application of enjoining right and forbidding wrong by citizens against governmental authority has often received limited attention despite a lack of evidence justifying its exclusion. Indeed, compelling arguments support its inclusion, such as narratives that extol speaking the truth and offering criticism against a “wicked sulṭān,” describing such actions as among the most meritorious in the sight of God (e.g., Ibn Ḥanbal 1991, 5:251; al-Kulaynī 1986, 5:60). Moreover, narratives explicitly reference the notion of “public protest” as inkār al-ʿāmma ʿalā l-khāṣṣa (e.g., Ibn Ḥanbal 1991, 4:192; al-Muttaqī al-Hindī 1981, 3:65; al-Ḥurr al-ʿĀmilī 1988, 16:136–137).

It is essential to recognize that there are three distinct levels at which commendable or reprehensible behaviors are either encouraged or discouraged: 1) Internally (in the heart): Every Muslim bears an ethical responsibility to feel dismay when witnessing unethical acts and to experience satisfaction upon observing virtuous ones. In this regard, one is advised to distance oneself from transgressors. 2) Verbally (admonition): At this level, individuals are expected to use speech to denounce wrongful actions and to advocate for and endorse righteous deeds. 3) Practically (enforcement): This involves physically (or authoritatively) intervening to prevent harmful actions while promoting good deeds (see, for example, al-Dumyāṭī 1997, 4:208–209; al-Najafī 1984, 21:374–385).

At its initial level, enjoining good and forbidding evil about government authorities involves publicly scrutinizing the wālī (governor) and delineating deficiencies in his governance. Such acts often entail a certain level of indignity to the wālī, as public criticism intrinsically conflicts with narratives emphasizing the maintenance of a wālī’s dignity. According to some traditions, showing deference to the wālī epitomizes one’s ultimate submission to the Almighty (al-Nūrī 1988, 8:391; al-Muttaqī al-Hindī 1981, 9:157). Additionally, juristic perspectives underscore this consideration; many jurists contend that respect and ethical dignity are not universally applicable but rather contingent upon an individual’s social standing. The esteemed Shīʿī jurist shaykh al-Anṣārī, for instance, asserts:

Backbiting constitutes a violation of a believer’s dignity, permissible only if it serves a significant and overriding benefit. This rule is situational, varying according to an individual’s status; some individuals’ respect is of such value that it should never be compromised, such as respect for religious figures.

al-Anṣārī 1995, 358

Sunnī scholars similarly advocate this stance (e.g., Ibn ʿĀbidīn 1992, 6:731).

Certain jurists further stipulate that a judge must consider the elevated social position of individuals regarded as “dignified” (ahl al-ṣiyāna) in judicial processes, declaring it improper to summon such individuals to court if doing so would impinge upon their honor. Instead, the judge should approach them privately to resolve legal matters in a manner that preserves their social standing (al-Najafī 1984, 40:230; al-Shirbīnī 1978, 2:157; al-Shirwānī 1992, 5:142). Additionally, certain traditions authorize the exposure of injustices perpetrated by tyrannical imāms (al-Ḥurr al-ʿĀmilī 1988, 12:289; al-Nawawī 1987b, 16:144), implying – by limiting the permission to the cruel imam – a prohibition against revealing the faults of a just imām (al-Muẓaffar 2009, 1:146; al-Rāzī 1992, 3:58–60). This jurisprudential consideration, while aimed at preserving social dignity, highlights a potential tension within accountability mechanisms: it suggests that the method and visibility of holding powerful figures accountable might differ from that of ordinary citizens, potentially creating a tiered system of justice.

To align these traditions with the principles of enjoining good and forbidding evil, it must be posited that such acts of admonition should ideally be conducted privately and tactfully when addressing the wālī. However, should other measures fail or if the wālī persists in his misconduct, public disclosure, including through media, may be warranted due to the gravity of the circumstances.

At a practical level, several narrations explicitly prohibit any form of armed rebellion or practical action against the wālī. In these accounts, action and resistance are discouraged, even against rulers despised and cursed by their subjects (for example, Muslim 2003, 6:23–24; al-Ḥurr al-ʿĀmilī 1988, 15:50–57). Most jurists uphold the prohibition against insurrection against an unjust wālī, with al-Nawawī, the renowned Shāfiʿī jurist, justifying this stance as a means to prevent chaos and sedition within the Muslim community (al-Nawawī 1987b, 12:229). However, some Sunnī scholars diverge from this majority view (e.g., Ibn Ḥazm 1996, 4:176), with Abū Ḥanīfa (d. 150/767) explicitly endorsing rebellion against an iniquitous ruler. Al-Jaṣṣāṣ (d. 370/981), advocating for Abū Ḥanīfa’s position, presents multiple pieces of evidence corroborating this stance, including 1) Abū Ḥanīfa’s refusal to comply with Ibn Hubayra’s (fl. 90–100/710s–720s) command, the Umayyad (r. 40–132/661–750) wālī, which led to his imprisonment and flogging; 2) his rejection of Manṣūr’s (d. 158/775) mandate to serve as judge, also resulting in detention; 3) Abū Ḥanīfa’s principle of enjoining good and forbidding evil, which he extended to sanction rebellion against the wālī; and 4) his open support for Zayd ibn ʿAlī’s (d. 122/740) revolt against the Umayyad regime (al-Jaṣṣāṣ 1984, 1:85). Ibn Abī al-Ḥadīd (d. 656/1258) further attests that the Muʿtazilī position mandates revolt against a corrupt wālī (Ibn Abī l-Ḥadīd 1959, 5:78).

In synthesizing these perspectives, the legitimacy of rebellion, as endorsed by figures like Abū Ḥanīfa, is conditional upon a wālī abandoning wilāʾī justice and neglecting the public good. Conversely, rebellion remains impermissible if the ruler’s shortcomings are confined solely to personal sins committed in private.

In the context of a modern state, the principle of enjoining right and forbidding wrong is institutionalized through a variety of mechanisms that go beyond the classical ḥisba. These include a free and independent press, independent electoral commissions that ensure the integrity of the political process, anti-corruption agencies, ombudsman offices that investigate citizen complaints, and a robust and independent judiciary. These institutions are the modern embodiment of the community’s collective duty to supervise its rulers, transforming ethical oversight from an individual endeavor into a permanent, structural feature of good governance.