As the followers of Islam, moments like the recent lynching in Bangladesh forces us to ask difficult questions, not to others, but to ourselves. When a human being is killed in the name of protecting the Prophet, the Qur’an, or Islam, something has gone terribly wrong. Faith, which was revealed to elevate human dignity, is instead being used to extinguish it. This is not merely a political or legal crisis; it is a moral and theological one. A Muslim scholar’s perspective begins with a simple but uncomfortable truth: mob violence in response to blasphemy accusations has no legitimacy in Islam. It contradicts the Qur’an, the Prophet’s example, and the objectives of Islamic law.
The Qur’an repeatedly affirms the sanctity of human life: “Whoever kills an innocent soul, it is as if he has killed all of humanity” (Qur’an 5:32). This verse does not carve out exceptions for anger, hurt sentiments, or religious outrage. The life of a human being is not conditional upon communal approval or public emotion. Yet in many parts of the Indian subcontinent, blasphemy accusations have become triggers for collective hysteria. Rumours replace evidence, crowds replace courts, and violence replaces justice. The result is not the defence of Islam, but its distortion. Islam does not need mobs to defend it. Truth is not so fragile that it requires lynching to survive.
The Qur’an acknowledges that believers will face mockery, insult, and provocation. But its response is strikingly restrained: Walk away. Nowhere does the Qur’an instruct ordinary believers to punish speech with violence. This omission is not accidental; it reflects a deeper moral vision. Faith grounded in conviction does not panic at offence. It responds with dignity. Accountability, in such matters, belongs to God unless speech is directly tied to violence or rebellion. This reading is not modern appeasement; it is rooted in the Qur’an’s own moral structure.
The Prophet Muhammad himself was not shielded from insult; he was its frequent target. He was mocked as a liar, a poet, a maniac. His response was not vigilante justice, but moral restraint. When abused in Ta’if, bleeding and humiliated, he refused divine retribution. When insulted in Mecca, he forgave upon conquest. These were not signs of weakness, but of ethical strength. To claim love for the Prophet while abandoning his conduct is a contradiction. You cannot defend his honour by violating his character.
Scholars does not deny that classical jurists debated blasphemy. They did, but always within strict legal frameworks. Even the most conservative jurists insisted on state authority, due process, verified evidence and opportunity for repentance. Ibn Taymiyyah, often selectively quoted, explicitly rejected mob action and chaos (fitna). Imam Abu Hanifa restricted capital punishment and emphasised restraint. Classical law,
whatever its conclusions, was never emotional, instant, or crowd-driven. What we witness today is not “Shariah in action,” but its collapse.
A realistic lens also recognises the socio-political misuse of blasphemy accusations. In South Asia, they often target religious minorities, poor and powerless, dissenters and reformers; those without social protection. This selective application exposes the problem: blasphemy is less about reverence and more about control. Islam becomes a tool for settling personal scores and asserting dominance. This is a betrayal of justice, a core Qur’anic value.
Scholars like Sheikh Abdullah bin Bayyah remind us that any interpretation leading to bloodshed, anarchy, and fear contradicts these objectives, even if wrapped in religious language. When blasphemy accusations lead to mobs, Islam’s moral purpose is defeated. Muslim societies must move beyond defensive outrage toward ethical confidence. This requires open public rejection of mob violence by religious leaders, legal accountability for perpetrators, religious education grounded in ethics as well as protection of minorities as a religious duty, not a concession. Silence is not neutrality. When injustice is done in the name of Islam and Muslims remain quiet, faith itself is harmed.
The choice before us is stark. We can continue down a path where faith is associated with fear, bloodshed, and coercion or we can reclaim Islam as a moral force rooted in justice, mercy, and restraint. Defending Islam does not require killing people. It requires courage, moral courage to say, this violence is wrong, un-Islamic, and must stop.
-Insha Warsi
Francophone and Journalism Studies,
Jamia Millia Islamia.
