What does the Qur'an say and what does political Islam do?
I have studied the Qur'an verse by verse, and one thing must be said clearly: The Qur'an is not just a holy book that regulates worship. It limits power, focuses on justice and holds people accountable for their actions. It recognizes human dignity as innate; it looks for superiority not in wealth, lineage or position, but in moral conduct. It criticizes waste, observes moderation, and takes responsibility, not privilege, as its basis. It demands not blind obedience, but keeping the mind and conscience alive.
But does what is happening today correspond to this moral framework that the Qur'an points to?
There is an increasingly widespread habit in society: When the government legitimizes itself through faith, its actions are less questioned. The pomp and circumstance is not strange. Waste is accepted as normal. Privileges are defended on the grounds of “reputation”. However, unrestrained and arbitrary use of public resources directly means that someone else's share is diminished. Therefore, the issue here is not a matter of taste or discomfort; what is damaged is not a feeling, but justice itself.
Here it is necessary to clearly distinguish between Islam and political Islamism.
Islam is an area of moral responsibility. Political Islamism, on the other hand, is a political practice that transforms faith from the sphere of conscience of the individual into a means of establishing and maintaining power. It transforms piety from a moral measure into an indicator of political loyalty.
This understanding did not emerge spontaneously. It was born out of a vacuum.
While religion was removed from the political sphere in the early years of the Republic, a civil ground where it could establish a healthy, free and critical relationship with society could not be established. Religion was either taken under the control of the state or excluded from the public sphere. Over time, this situation fed the narrative of “victimized faith”. Political Islamism gained power precisely in this vacuum.
After 1980, this structure entered a new phase. Religion became not only a political but also an economic tool. The so-called “green capital” was expanded. Public tenders, incentives and state facilities were transferred to capital circles organized with religious references. Thus, a privileged economic class was created that gained legitimacy through faith.
The picture was clear: Patience was preached to the poor, while wealth was transferred to close circles. Abstinence was glorified, but waste grew. Privilege was normalized instead of sharing and labor. In all this process, the right of servant was systematically ignored.
However, in the Qur'an, servant's right is one of the most serious responsibilities. Because servant's right is not only a matter between Allah and the servant; it also includes the account between man and man. It cannot be compensated by worship, it cannot be erased by repentance; it can only be remedied by making peace with the person who has been wronged. Therefore, the right of servant is the most concrete test of piety.
The Qur'an is very clear on this:
“O you who believe! Do justice, even if it is against yourselves, your parents and your relatives.” (Nisa, 4/135)
“Let not your hatred of a people lead you to injustice. Be just; that is closer to taqwa.” (Maide, 5/8)
In other words, justice does not change according to kin, according to power, according to position.
At this point, it is necessary to acknowledge one more fact. The history of Islam does not only consist of interpretations that stand side by side with power. There have also been Muslims who were religious but distanced themselves from power and even took part in the struggle for equality and labor. Religious people who identify themselves as socialists have read faith as the language of justice, not power. Similarly, the Alevi tradition, despite believing in the same holy book, has historically distanced itself from power; it has lived religion not with the palace, but with conscience and the search for rights. These examples clearly show that the problem is not in religion, but in the interpretations that identify religion with power.
Today, we are faced with a system where proximity is taken as the basis instead of merit and torpedoing has become commonplace. One person's unjustly obtained opportunity is another person's usurped right. The Qur'an explicitly forbids this:
“Do not eat among yourselves unjustly.” (Al-Baqarah, 2/188)
And why do people turn a blind eye to this?
Because injustice does not come in one day. It settles piece by piece. First it is called the exception, then it becomes the rule. First it is called “for now”, then it becomes permanent. Over time, people do not ask “is it right?”; they start to say “let the order be kept intact”. When faith becomes the justification for this silence, conscience falls silent.
Let us remember the first address of the Qur'an. It does not say “believe”. It does not say “Obey”. It says, “Read!”. (Alak, 96/1)
And how did the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH), the messenger of this book, live? Not in palaces. In an adobe house. He had power but he did not display it. He had the means but did not save. He could have done but he did not. This is not poverty, but a conscious choice.
Looking at this whole picture, the issue is not how religious people are, but the distance between what the Qur'an says and what those who speak in its name do. While the Qur'an centers on justice, moderation and servant's rights, political Islamism has often relied on a language that protects power, privilege and obedience. The real problem today is the deliberate confusion of these two lines. Because while the Qur'an's moral call limits power, political interpretations often legitimize it.
As the distance between what the Qur'an says and what is done in its name grows, justice is silenced.