Muslim

Rampur, India – More than 100 people sit cross-legged on mats, braving the brutal July heat, as they raise slogans and wave the national flag in a north Indian town.

Barely 200km (132 miles) from the capital, New Delhi, where thousands of youths demanding education reforms just forced a minister to resign, a group of students, alumni and residents are holding an indefinite sit-in to oppose the planned demolition of 38 of Mohammad Ali Jauhar University’s 40 buildings.

Named after a freedom fighter who fought against British rule, the university was founded by prominent Muslim politician Azam Khan in Rampur district of Uttar Pradesh state. Khan established the Mohammad Ali Jauhar Trust in 2003, which oversaw the university’s establishment three years later.

On July 15, when protests led by the Cockroach Janta Party (CJP) – a youth movement born out of a joke – were at their peak, the Rampur district administration issued an order to demolish most of the university’s buildings, alleging they flouted regulatory guidelines.

Only two structures, including a proposed medical college block, were built with valid approvals, the authorities claimed, as they ordered the university to take down the “illegal” buildings by August 5. If they failed to do so, the authorities said they will move in with bulldozers and recover the cost of the demolition from the university.

On Monday, the state administration issued an interim stay on its order, but did not explicitly state whether the demolition was halted.

Jauhar University’s vice chancellor, Zaheeruddin, told Al Jazeera the stay order does not mean the demolition has been called off.

“It means that the demolition will not take place by the August 5 deadline set by the RDA. The university is now seeking a verdict that quashes the demolition order outright,” he said, using the acronym for Rampur Development Authority.

‘Stop the demolition’

For nearly 3,000 students pursuing dozens of courses at the 250-acre campus, the government move is a bolt from the blue.

Since July 15, a group of university students and alumni has been sitting outside its main gate, demanding the withdrawal of the demolition order.

“If a [federal] minister can be forced to resign following the CJP protest, why can’t the Uttar Pradesh government be forced to stop the demolition of the university when so many students are agitating here,” asked Usama Tayyab, who graduated from Jauhar University in 2019.

Uttar Pradesh – home to about 240 million people – has been governed by the right-wing Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) since 2017. The state’s chief minister, Yogi Adityanath, is a saffron-clad hardline Hindu monk, known for his anti-Muslim hate speech and policies.

Khan, the 77-year-old founder and lifelong chancellor of the university, had been one of the most stringent critics of the BJP in Uttar Pradesh. He is one of the founders of the Samajwadi Party (“samajwadi” means socialist in Hindi), a political group popular among the state’s 38 million Muslims, as well as a large majority of its underprivileged caste Hindu voters.

Khan studied law in the 1970s at the Aligarh Muslim University, India’s largest minority institution, about 160km (100 miles) from Rampur. At Aligarh, he made a mark as a fiery student leader, and later as a politician who took on a former royal family, which for decades had dominated the politics in Rampur, a district with nearly 50 percent Muslims, according to the last census conducted in 2011.

He joined electoral politics in 1980 and represented Rampur in the Uttar Pradesh Legislative Assembly for 10 terms, also serving as a minister in several state governments and as leader of the opposition. He was also elected to the lower house of Indian Parliament from Rampur and sent to the upper house later by his party. In 2003, he established a Mohammad Ali Jauhar Trust, which oversaw the establishment of the university three years later, and cemented his position as one of the most prominent Muslim leaders in northern India.

And that brought him into the crosshairs of the BJP.

‘Vendetta politics’

Shortly after coming to power in 2017, Adityanath’s government filed nearly 100 cases against Khan, charging him with landgrab, forgery and hate speech. Dozens of those cases against him relate to Jauhar University.

Khan spent more than two years in jail before the Supreme Court granted him bail in 2022. The next year, a court in Rampur convicted him, his wife Tazeen Fatima and their son Abdullah Azam Khan, also a former legislator, of using forged birth certificates.

He is currently serving a two-year sentence handed down in May this year for making “provocative remarks” during the 2019 general elections, alongside his conviction in a separate case related to a fake income tax document.

Supporters say the cases against Khan and his family are politically motivated. The state government denies the allegation.

Samajwadi Party MP Javed Ali Khan, unrelated to Azam Khan, told Al Jazeera the Jauhar University demolition order was “vendetta politics by a ruling dispensation opposed to education and intent on keeping people illiterate”.

“There are many reasons why this university is being targeted. First, it was founded by Azam Khan. Second, its foundation stone was laid by Mulayam Singh, the Samajwadi Party patriarch. Third, it was inaugurated by Akhilesh Yadav, the former chief minister of the state. And fourth, it is a minority university,” he said.

Mulayam Singh Yadav, the main founder of the Samajwadi Party, died in 2022. His son Akhilesh now heads the party and is a member of the anti-BJP coalition that includes the Indian National Congress, India’s main opposition party.

BJP spokesman Rakesh Tripathi said the demolition order is “in line with legal procedures against illegal construction”, and accused the Samajwadi Party of playing “appeasement politics”.

“Can anyone deny that Azam Khan built this university on illegal land? He used his position and power during the Samajwadi Party government to construct this university on illegal land and erect illegal buildings. What we are doing is simply following the law on illegal construction, and that means the university should be demolished,” Tripathi told Al Jazeera.

‘Girls will never get another chance’

But anger over the imminent demolition of Rampur’s only full-fledged university is growing. The district is ahead of only four among Uttar Pradesh’s 75 districts in terms of literacy rate, according to the 2011 census.

Also, nearly half of the students at Jauhar University are females, according to chief proctor, Gulrez Nizami.

Iqra, a fifth-year law student who goes by only one name, told Al Jazeera she had chosen the university for a reason.

“Our parents were satisfied with the atmosphere here, and with the safety it offers to women students over other universities,” she said.

“If this university is demolished, girls like us will never get another chance to study anywhere else. Our parents will not be convinced to send us elsewhere. They chose this place because they believed Muslim girls were safe here,” Iqra said.

Iqra said the government is running a counselling camp to advise the students on joining another college or university to continue their education. “But we don’t want to go there. We chose this institution for a reason,” she said.

And it is not just Muslims who are protesting against the university’s planned demolition – more than a third of its students are Hindus.

“They may call it a Muslim university, and yes, it is indeed a minority university by legal status, but that does not mean others do not study here,” Chandni Diwakar, a first-year paramedical student, told Al Jazeera.

“I have been a part of the university for the past year and have never once felt like a non-Muslim in a minority university. Everyone here is friendly, teachers and students alike,” she said at the sit-in site.

The RDA says its action follows a report by a regional officer who flagged the alleged violations. A meeting with lawyers representing both the university and the RDA was held on July 15.

“They were given notice, and they have since given a written response. Out of the 40 buildings constructed at Jauhar University, only two were considered acceptable. The other 38 were proven invalid,” Ajay Kumar Dwivedi, district magistrate and RDA vice chairperson, told reporters on July 15.

But Vice Chancellor Zaheeruddin dismissed the charge, claiming the institution located in Rampur’s Singankhera village came under RDA jurisdiction only in September 2024, years after the buildings were constructed.

Approval, added Zaheeruddin, was therefore not required at the time of construction and cannot be demanded now.

“There was no RDA jurisdiction in Singankhera at the time the university was formed. We are running courses approved by different government bodies, which grant approval only once we meet all their criteria,” he told Al Jazeera, calling the RDA’s move a violation of the constitutional right to education.

“They are simply using this as a tool against the visionary Azam Khan, who created this university for the upliftment of the minorities, the poor, and the underprivileged,” he said.

But the officials say the alleged violations cannot be regularised under the existing laws, leaving demolition as the only legal remedy.

Al Jazeera made repeated attempts to contact Dwivedi for his comments and even visited his office in Rampur. But he declined to meet or respond to requests for an interview.

‘Police coming to our houses’

The university has challenged the RDA order as protests grow on campus.

“If others can achieve results through a peaceful protest, why can’t we, as Muslim students, achieve our legitimate goal of stopping the demolition of our university? If this requires sacrifice, we are willing to give it. But we will not accept this injustice against us any longer,” Usman Ali, a law graduate from the university, told Al Jazeera.

He alleged that police are visiting the homes of students on strike to pressure their families into calling off their protest. “Police are coming to our houses and threatening our parents with consequences, but we will not back down.”

On Sunday, the protesters were joined by a delegation of Samajwadi Party parliamentarians, including Javed Ali Khan, Ziaur Rahman Barq of Sambhal and Iqra Choudhary of Kairana.

“There are multiple dimensions to it [demolition]. One, it was meant to create a spectacle out of confronting powerful Muslims in front of its Hindu voters. Second, there has been a sustained campaign throughout this government’s tenure against minority institutions. And third, it does not want mingling between Hindus and Muslims, of which universities are a stronghold,” Apoorvanand, a teacher of Hindi literature at the University of Delhi who goes by a single name, told Al Jazeera.

Since 2014, when BJP’s Narendra Modi became prime minister, India has seen a spike in demolitions of homes, mosques, shops and other properties in a pattern that rights groups say disproportionately affects Muslims. Authorities claim they are targeting “illegal encroachments”.

Back in Rampur, Abdul Kaleem Ansari, another Jauhar University graduate, draws a parallel between their protest and the CJP movement that forced India’s Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan to resign over a series of examination paper leaks.

Ansari, who attended both, said he was surprised that calls for education reforms, which drove the “Cockroach” protesters to the streets, do not include the imminent demolition of a full-fledged university as part of their agenda.

“It is astonishing that they are talking about education reforms, but saying nothing about the demolition notice served to Jauhar University, a minority university situated just a few hundred kilometres from Delhi,” he said.

“The futures of all its students and alumni are at stake, and we do not know where to go from here.”

The Muslim Brotherhood’s failure to penetrate Chinese society, particularly after the Arab Spring uprisings, stems from the Chinese Communist Party’s tight security grip, China’s policies of localizing religions, and the Chinese public’s rejection of transnational political ideologies. Despite the Brotherhood’s historical and organizational attempts to build ties with Muslim minorities in China, the rigid nature of the Chinese system and society has formed an impenetrable barrier to any infiltration. The fundamental contradiction between ideologies in China, such as Chinese communism as the ruling doctrine and political Islam as a totalitarian movement from which the Muslim Brotherhood emerged and China’s strict security policies aimed at integrating minorities, has led to the failure of these political ideological currents. Political Islam and the Muslim Brotherhood have failed to gain a foothold in China for several structural and political reasons. The most prominent of these is the strict nature of the Chinese communist system, which prohibits any political or religious activity outside the state’s control. This is compounded by the Sinicization policies that impose absolute loyalty to Chinese culture and the Communist Party. Furthermore, the internationalist ideology of the Muslim Brotherhood and political Islam clashes with Chinese nationalism. Additionally, there is a lack of popular support for such projects among Muslim minorities who follow religious traditions different from those in Arab and Islamic countries and around the world. Despite the existence of an Islamic religious group in China called Yihewani, whose name literally means brotherhood, it is a reformist movement within the Hanafi school of Islamic jurisprudence. It originated locally in China in the 20th century, specifically in the 1930s, but it is a completely independent, traditional Hanafi school of thought with no organizational or ideological ties to the Muslim Brotherhood in the Middle East.

On the other hand, China harbored apprehensions about the political Islam and Muslim Brotherhood model following the Arab Spring uprisings of 2011. Research centers and decision-making bodies in Beijing closely monitored the outcomes of these uprisings, particularly the Muslim Brotherhood’s rise to power in Egypt and Tunisia. China viewed the Brotherhood’s ascent to power in some countries, such as Egypt and Tunisia, followed by their subsequent failures and the descent of some into civil war, as evidence that political Islam harbors a project to destabilize nations. This understanding led Beijing to adopt a firm, principled stance rejecting this model of political Islam entirely in order to protect its own stable development model. Consequently, China adopted a policy of strategic alliance with Egypt under President Abdel Fattah El-Sisi and other Arab nationalist regimes following the events of the June 30, 2013, revolution in Egypt and the fall of the Muslim Brotherhood and its president, Mohamed Morsi. China strengthened its strategic and economic partnerships with current Arab governments, such as those in Egypt and the Gulf states. Here, China rejects interference in the internal affairs of other countries. Similarly, Arab states support the One China policy and its actions in Xinjiang. This high-level diplomatic coordination between China, Egypt, and other Arab states, following the Muslim Brotherhood’s failed rule, has led to a crackdown on any attempts to finance or subtly infiltrate the banned group through economic or educational channels within China.

Here, the Chinese state pursues a policy of institutional rejection of political Islam and the Muslim Brotherhood. Chinese authorities classify any political activity with a religious basis as a direct threat to national security and territorial integrity. This has led to the banning and dismantling of any cells or attempts to establish branches of the Muslim Brotherhood. Furthermore, Muslim ethnic minorities in regions like Xinjiang (East Turkestan) face strict security and surveillance measures that prevent the formation of any opposing Islamic religious movements within China. Beijing also imposes the forced assimilation of Muslim minorities into Chinese culture and criminalizes any transnational organizational manifestations or affiliations.  With an emphasis on the dominance of communist ideology, the ruling Chinese Communist Party rejects any religious or political activity or movements that seek to assert identity above loyalty to the state and the party. This is coupled with strict Chinese security measures to combat foreign infiltration of religions, organizations, movements, and Islamic political currents within China, particularly the Muslim Brotherhood. Beijing maintains one of the world’s most stringent surveillance systems for monitoring religious and political activities. Following the Arab Spring uprisings of 2011, Chinese security agencies raised their alert levels to ensure that the contagion of color revolutions or ideological movements did not spread within its borders. China considers any foreign organization, such as the Muslim Brotherhood, a direct threat to national security and social stability. Therefore, any cells or committees attempting to engage with Chinese Muslims are banned and dismantled.

Political Islam movements have failed to penetrate Chinese society and bring about political or social changes as they have in other countries. This is due to several historical, political, cultural, and social factors imposed by the Chinese state. The most prominent of these factors are the tight security and political grip and the nature of the Chinese communist political system. China imposes a highly centralized system in which the state and the Communist Party completely control the public sphere and institutions. No independent political or ideological organization is permitted outside the umbrella of the Communist Party. Chinese authorities impose strict censorship and implement proactive security policies that prevent any political, religious, or opposition organizations or movements from existing or expanding. Furthermore, the primacy of nationalism over religion in China, where Chinese identity is primarily based on belonging to the nation and the nationality, represented by the culture of the majority Han Chinese population, makes loyalty to the state paramount. This renders the transnational ideologies adopted by political Islam movements unacceptable and severely restricted. Here, the government’s policies toward religions in China become clear. China pursues a policy of Sinicization of religions, meaning that the practice of any religious rituals must conform entirely to Chinese culture and socialism. The Chinese state follows policies of Sinicization on religions, with Chinese authorities implementing strict policies to subordinate religions to Chinese socialist culture and values. This has included systematic campaigns to prevent foreign or Middle Eastern influences on mosque style, clothing, and religious practices. China also adopts strict policies to contain any influence of political Islam and subjects religious bodies to state supervision. Beijing aims to Sinicize religions and requires their integration with the culture of the Han majority and the values ​​of the Communist Party, placing loyalty to the nation above all other affiliations.

This occurs while the Chinese state officially manages and oversees Islamic institutions, such as the Islamic Association of China, thus preventing the emergence of independent religious leaders or institutions that could adopt or disseminate the ideas of political Islam. Herein lies the role of cultural and historical diversity within China. Muslim minorities in China, such as the Hui ethnic group, have absorbed traditional Chinese culture and integrated it with their beliefs over centuries, making their communities well-integrated into the broader social fabric and resilient against external influences. Muslims have been historically integrated into China, and Islam has been part of the Chinese social fabric for over 13 centuries.  Muslim ethnic groups, such as the Hui, have successfully integrated into Chinese society and adapted to local culture. This integration has made political Islam alien to their environment due to China’s strict security measures. The Chinese government deals harshly with any religious or ethnic movements with a political character, particularly in the predominantly Muslim Xinjiang region of northwest China, under the banner of combating extremism and terrorism. Security policies and measures have been implemented to restrict any religious activity outside the official control of the Chinese state. The state adopts a dual strategy: containing practices acceptable to official state institutions while categorically rejecting any separatist or political tendencies that Beijing considers a threat to the country’s unity and stability.

Beijing manages religious pluralism through the Islamic Association of China and views any ideologies that deviate from loyalty to the state with extreme caution. The relationship between the state and Islam in China is shaped by several pillars, including national diversity. China has 56 officially recognized ethnic, religious, and national groups, with the Han Chinese constituting the vast majority at approximately 92% of the population. Regarding Muslim ethnic groups, there are 10 Muslim-majority groups in China, such as the Hui and Uyghurs, with the total number of Muslims estimated in the tens of millions. China officially adopts a policy of Sinicization, whereby Chinese authorities lead campaigns to eliminate transnational religious expressions, prohibiting religious institutions from having ties with their counterparts abroad. Religious institutions are required to adhere to the Party’s leadership and integrate their doctrines with Chinese cultural traditions. The Chinese government pursues a policy of Sinicization of Islam. The Chinese state adopts a firm strategy based on integrating Islam and its culture into the Chinese national identity (in accordance with socialism with Chinese characteristics). As we mentioned, Muslim affairs are officially managed through the Islamic Association of China, which is under the control of the ruling Communist Party. This closure of the religious sphere has thwarted the Islamic internationalism ideology promoted by the Muslim Brotherhood in Middle Eastern countries, as China confines religious teaching and practice to purely local frameworks, preventing the introduction of the writings of Sayed Qutb or Hassan Al-Banna into Chinese territory.

Therefore, we conclude that attempts by political Islamist movements, particularly the Muslim Brotherhood, to infiltrate China or penetrate its Muslim communities have failed. Here we observe the cultural and ethnic differences between the Muslim minorities in China and the ideas of the Muslim Brotherhood, which is banned in Egypt and the Middle East. The main Muslim population in China is divided into two primary groups that fail to resonate with the Brotherhood’s ideology: the Hui ethnic group, a Chinese Muslim minority. The Hui are Chinese-speaking Muslims fully integrated culturally and socially into the fabric of the Chinese state. Their primary loyalty is to China, and therefore, the Arab political ideology of the Muslim Brotherhood finds no echo among them. The second group is the Uyghur ethnic group. Uyghurs reside in the Xinjiang region (East Turkestan) in northwest China. Despite the presence of nationalist and religious tendencies, Beijing has imposed extremely strict security measures (including re-education camps and biometric surveillance, which are security systems within China that use an individual’s biological characteristics, such as fingerprints, facial features, and iris scans, to verify their identity), effectively isolating the region from any activism emanating from the Middle East, particularly from the Muslim Brotherhood.

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For years, the Boko Haram and the Islamic State West Africa Province (ISWAP) terror groups have told Muslims in Nigeria and the Lake Chad Basin that the world outside their camps is not merely corrupt, but that living in it constitutes unbelief. They reinforce this stance through the misinterpretation of scripture, selective history, and the authority of armed men. They use terms such as tawheed (monotheism), hijrah (migration), bay‘ah (allegiance), jihad, daulah (sovereign state), Darul Islam (abode of Islam), Darul Kufr (abode of unbelief), and takfir (excommunication). 

To the ordinary ear, it may sound like religion, but beneath the vocabulary is a hard political claim: only their authority can certify Islam. Through this doctrine, they decide who is allowed to live, who must die, who is Muslim, who is no longer Muslim, which land is pure, which land is condemned, which ruler is apostate, and why a farmer, teacher, cleric, trader, voter, soldier, journalist, or civil servant can become a target.

The Takfir

At the centre of this war is takfir, the act of declaring a professed Muslim to be an unbeliever. Mainstream Islamic scholarship treats takfir as a grave matter. It requires knowledge, evidence, context, intention, and due process. A Muslim does not leave Islam because he lives under a flawed state, or because he carries an identity card, works in a hospital, teaches in a school, votes in an election, or refuses to migrate to a forest camp – all of which the terror groups view as signs of belief in Western values.

Boko Haram, or Jama’atu Ahlis-Sunna Lidda’Awati Wal-Jihad, shortened as JAS, loyal to Abubakar Shekau, decreed that if you did these things, you were suspect. The most frightening part of Shekau’s doctrine was that he demanded others declare the same people unbelievers, too. If he declared a Muslim in Maiduguri an unbeliever because he lived under the Nigerian state, then ISWAP also had to declare that person an unbeliever. If ISWAP refused, Shekau’s logic turned against the group; they too became unbelievers because they failed to excommunicate those he had excommunicated.

This doctrine explains why JAS could kill villagers, denounce scholars, attack mosques, murder defectors, bomb displaced people, and fight ISWAP while still claiming to defend Islam. In Shekau’s universe, the circle of Islam narrowed until only his faction stood inside it. Everyone else stood outside the gate.

Colonial rupture and the question of authority

Abdulbasit Kassim, assistant professor of religion and classics at the University of Rochester, who specialises in the histories and cultures of Muslim societies in West Africa, places this doctrine inside a longer history. He argues that the question did not begin with JAS but reaches back into debates in Muslim West Africa over land, power, law, colonial rule, and the status of Muslims living under non-Islamic authority.

“Before colonial rule, much of what is now northern Nigeria, southern Niger, northern Cameroon, and western Chad belonged to a wider region known as Central Bilad al-Sudan. Muslim polities such as the Sokoto Caliphate and the Kanem-Borno Empire governed social, economic, political, and legal life through Islamic norms,” he said.

Colonialism disrupted that order. By conquering territory, the British introduced a hierarchy of laws in which Islamic law survived, but with a narrowed jurisdiction. Sharia courts continued in civil matters, especially marriage, inheritance, and family disputes. Criminal punishments under the Islamic canon became restricted, weakened, or rendered practically dormant.

“After 1999, when Zamfara State under Ahmad Sani Yerima revived the criminal aspect of Sharia, old tensions returned,” the professor added. “Some scholars and activists welcomed it as a restoration. Others argued that full Sharia could not operate inside a constitutional democracy where any law inconsistent with the 1999 Constitution could be struck down.”

JAS, evidently, did not emerge in a vacuum. Kassim said, “Mohammed Yusuf rejected Nigeria’s Sharia implementation because, to him, it remained trapped inside a secular constitutional order.” For him, it was not enough for a northern governor to introduce Sharia penal codes. The state itself had to be Islamic. Its sovereignty had to come from Islamic political precepts, not a constitution inherited from colonial rule. This is where the movement’s argument becomes more dangerous. It is not only saying that Nigeria fails to implement Sharia properly, but that the entire political foundation of Nigeria is illegitimate.

To Kassim, figures such as Ibrahim Zakzaky and Mohammed Yusuf shared one major point, even though their methods and movements differed. “They rejected the possibility of fully reconciling the Islamic juridical canon with Nigeria’s inherited secular constitutional order.”

This was the opening JAS exploited.

Nigeria as Darul Kufr

After JAS’s leaders convinced followers that the Nigerian state was illegitimate, the movement moved to the next step: migration. If Nigeria is Darul Kufr, the abode of unbelief, then Muslims had a duty to leave it, they said. If JAS’s territory was Darul Islam, the abode of Islam, then migration into its territory became a religious obligation. The group took an old legal category and weaponised it to control territory, Kassim argued.

This was not abstract in Borno, Yobe, Adamawa, Niger, Chad, and Cameroon. It meant families were pressured, threatened, abducted, or killed. Villages were told to submit. People who remained under government control became suspects; those who cooperated with the military became enemies; those who joined the Civilian Joint Task Force (CJTF) and their families became legitimate targets in the eyes of the insurgents; and traditional rulers, clerics, teachers, and government workers became exposed.

Shekau then stretched the doctrine further.

According to Kassim, “Shekau held that Muslims living under the Nigerian state were no longer Muslim if they refused to migrate into JAS-held territory. ISWAP contested this. It did not accept Shekau’s blanket takfir against all Muslims living in government territory. ISWAP argued that such Muslims became unbelievers only if they gave material support to the Nigerian state or its security forces in the war against the insurgents.”

This difference shaped the split between the factions. ISWAP still accepted the larger jihadist fiction that the Nigerian state was illegitimate and that true authority flowed from the Islamic State. It still treated soldiers, political rulers, security officials, and those directly supporting the state’s war effort as apostates. It still imposed taxes, punishments, surveillance, recruitment, and control over civilians. It still placed armed authority above the lived Islam of communities that had practised the faith for generations.

The difference between Shekau’s terror and ISWAP’s brutal governance is the difference between reckless excommunication and structured coercion. One faction burned the village and shouted scripture. The other taxed the village, citing the doctrine. Both denied ordinary citizens the right to live safely and peacefully.

The internal civil war

Kassim captured this danger years ago in his 2018 study, JAS’s Internal Civil War: Stealth Takfir and Jihad as Recipes for Schism. He wrote that the internal war between JAS factions could only be understood through “a close reading of the constant stream of primary sources produced by the two factions”.

Kassim wrote a sentence that still sits heavily over this conflict: “Those who kill know why they kill, but the majority of those about to be killed will hardly understand why they are being targeted.”

That is the tragedy of takfir in the Lake Chad war.

A farmer on his way to the field may not know the difference between JAS and ISWAP doctrine. A displaced woman in a camp may not know what Shekau wrote about Darul Kufr. A trader at a market may not have heard of Abu Malik al-Tamimi, Anas al-Nashwan, or the arguments ISWAP sent to Islamic State scholars. A village imam may know the Qur’an, but not the way and manner in which insurgents interpret it. Yet their lives can be judged based on those interpretations.

Shekau saw ISWAP’s caution as a compromise and that is where the blood began to flow inward. Kassim explains that Shekau’s rigidity helped push internal revolt. Ansaru had earlier objected to JAS’s killing of Muslims and the violation of what its leaders considered the ethics of jihad. Later, Abu Musab al-Barnawi and Mamman Nur moved against Shekau from within the Islamic State framework. They accused him of extremism, arbitrary killing, and corruption of the cause.

In the interview for this article, Kassim explained that Shekau was far more reckless on takfir than Muhammad Yusuf. Yusuf laid the ideological foundation for rebellion against the Nigerian state, but he was more cautious about excommunicating Muslims. Shekau removed many of those restraints.

Civilian life as suspicion

Kassim’s 2018 chapter recorded that Shekau viewed people living beyond JAS’s controlled territory as infidels and therefore legitimate targets within Darul Harb (abode of war). He also noted that Shekau’s position was harsher towards those who fled from JAS territory to areas controlled by the Nigerian state. In that logic, their camps, mosques, markets, and places of refuge could be attacked until they repented and returned.

ISWAP challenged part of this logic. Abu Musab al-Barnawi argued that Muslims who had always lived outside JAS territory could not be declared unbelievers merely for that reason. In his view, they crossed the line when they gave active or passive support to the Nigerian Army, the Civilian JTF, or other forces fighting the insurgents.

Abu Musab died in Kaduna, northwestern Nigeria, an area that both JAS and ISWAP consider Darul Kufr. This may partly explain ISWAP’s relative fluidity on the issue, compared with JAS.

HumAngle spoke to a former JAS shura member who later joined ISWAP. He subsequently completed the Nigerian government’s deradicalisation programme and now lives freely in Maiduguri. He says the Shekau faction does not recognise the Islam of Nigerians, Saudis, or anyone outside its creed. “To them, whoever is not with them is an unbeliever. Saudi Arabia is no different from a non-Muslim society in their imagination. It is simply another land of unbelief.”

He said ISWAP classifies Muslims living in Nigeria, Cameroon, Chad, Niger, and other states into categories. Those who can migrate but refuse to do so are sinners, not necessarily unbelievers. Their offence is treated as a major sin. The weak, the elderly, women, children, and those without means may be excused. Those who remain outside insurgent territory while openly challenging secular rule and calling people to Islamic governance may even be rewarded. In his telling, Mohammed Yusuf’s preaching before 2009 fits this category.

But those who join the democratic system, legislate, govern, enforce state authority, or fight under the security forces enter a more dangerous category. Politicians and legislators become tawaghit (false gods). Security officials become direct enemies. Soldiers, police officers, Civilian JTF members, and others who bear arms against the insurgents are treated as apostates whose blood is lawful to be spilt.

Doctors and teachers sit lower in ISWAP’s hierarchy of offence. They are not treated the same way as soldiers or politicians, but they still operate inside a system the group condemns.

This is the cold bureaucracy of ISWAP’s worldview. It sorts society by perceived allegiance, measuring sin by proximity to the state. The former Shura member called JAS a Khawarij-type movement because of its sweeping excommunication of Muslims. He said Shekau and his followers misused verses on oppression, migration, and disbelief. They took verses that classical exegetes treated with care and turned them into proof that any Muslim living in Darul Kufr had committed major shirk.

The key verse in their argument comes from Surah An-Nisa, where angels question those who wronged themselves and failed to migrate when Allah’s earth was spacious. ISWAP reads this as a grave warning against remaining in a land where Islam cannot be practised fully. Still, it leaves room for categories such as weakness, inability, and sin below disbelief.

The former shura member says Shekau’s faction then links this to another Qur’anic discussion of zulm (oppression), or wrongdoing, in which classical explanations connect the greatest zulm to shirk (polytheism). From there, JAS concludes that staying in Darul Kufr is not merely a sin but a state of unbelief. That leap is where the danger sits.

The former Shura member said JAS uses this belief to seize wealth, abduct people, kill travellers, attack farmers, and justify arbitrary violence. 

Why Hajj became secondary to war

ISWAP and the wider Islamic State network, the former shura member explains, take a more layered position on Hajj (pilgrimage to Mecca), which is generally regarded by Muslims as one of the five pillars of faith. “They still recognise Hajj as an obligation for Muslims who have the means. But they argue that tawheed has been corrupted worldwide and that restoring it through jihad takes priority. In practice, a wealthy fighter should not spend money on Hajj. He should donate it for weapons.”

Islam makes Hajj one of its five pillars. ISIS and ISWAP do not always deny that in theory, but they demote it in practice. They turn the battlefield into a higher obligation that suspends pilgrimage, family obligations, learning, work, charity, and ordinary religious life.

The anonymous source says senior Islamic State scholars issued rulings that no mujahid should spend his money on Hajj when he can spend it on arms. 

They take a religion structured around testimony, prayer, fasting, zakat, and pilgrimage, then reorder it around obedience to commanders and permanent war. The recruit is told that the world is corrupt, his parents are ignorant, his old imam is compromised, his country is unbelieving, his passport is a symbol of loyalty to kufr, and his only safe identity is inside the jama‘ah (the jihadists’ community). By the time he is asked to kill, the moral world that could have restrained him has already been dismantled.

Saudi Arabia and the battle for religious legitimacy

For Muslims around the world, Saudi Arabia holds Mecca and Medina, the two holiest sanctuaries in Islam. Millions perform Hajj under Saudi administration, yet jihadist ideologues have long denounced the Saudi state as apostate, accusing its rulers of alliance with Western powers, partial application of Sharia, participation in the United Nations system, and military cooperation with the United States and others.

Kassim points to Abu Muhammad al-Maqdisi, the Jordanian jihadist ideologue, whose writings attacked the legitimacy of the Saudi state. The argument is familiar in jihadist circles: Saudi rulers claim Sharia, but rule partly through artificial laws; they belong to the international state system; they support Western military campaigns; they host or cooperate with foreign military power; they have betrayed Muslims.

This is why jihadists can condemn Saudi rulers while still struggling over the status of Hajj. Some declare the rulers apostate but still accept that Muslims may perform Hajj because the holy places remain sacred. Others move closer to rejecting Hajj under Saudi authority or treating it as inferior to jihad.

The anonymous source says ISWAP and Islamic State circles call the Saudi royal and scholarly establishment “Ahl Salul”, a contemptuous distortion linking them to hypocrisy. They do not call them “A’l Saud” or “A’l Sheikh” with respect. They dismiss many Saudi scholars as apostates or compromised because they did not confront the Saudi state.

Who gets to define religion? The scholars of centuries? The community? The custodians of the holy cities? The legal schools? The state? The armed commander in the bush? JAS and ISWAP argue that authority belongs to the armed vanguard. That is why they reject Nigeria’s Sharia states, Saudi Arabia, Qatar, UAE, Afghanistan, Mali, Niger, Chad, and other Muslim-majority or Muslim-populated states. 

The third generation of war

Kassim warned in the interview that the conflict is entering a third generation, which JAS described in one of its propaganda videos as “Jiyalit-Tamkin” (reinforcement generation). Many fighters were born into war and therefore did not sit through the early debates or learn the tradition deeply. They inherited fear, slogans, weapons, commanders, and survival inside an insurgent economy.

The first generation, including Mohammed Yusuf, Shekau, Mamman Nur, and others, had some level of Islamic training. One may reject their interpretations, but they tried to ground their actions in texts. Shekau himself wrote books and cited Usman Dan Fodio, even if, as Kassim notes, the citations were often erroneous and shallow.

The current generation is different. For many of them, jihad is the only economy they know, and now functions as the road to food, wives, money, status, revenge, protection, and belonging. 

The former shura member says this is visible among the Shekau loyalists who remain under Bakura’s orbit. He says they suffer from a dearth of scholars and describes figures around the faction as lacking deep knowledge, with some retained by kinship, money, fear, or coercion rather than conviction. This is one of the most important revelations.

“The war is no longer driven only by men who believe they are restoring an Islamic order. It is also driven by men trapped inside a violent economy that needs theology to keep feeding itself,” the former shura member said. War has become a livelihood.

Ending the conflict requires more than defeating JAS’s ideology. Many actors are bound to the war by power, profit, survival, and identity, making violence harder to end than extremist beliefs.

Why the war endures

The state did not create JAS’s theology, but it gave the movement that emerged in northeastern Nigeria some of its most powerful stories. The killing of Mohammed Yusuf in 2009, mass arrests, military abuses, corruption, abandoned communities, failed justice, and the humiliation of civilians all became material for insurgent propaganda.

Across the Sahel, the same pattern repeats. Jihadist groups exploit weak courts, abusive soldiers, predatory officials, unresolved local disputes, ethnic suspicion, rural abandonment, and poverty. This is why Nigeria cannot bomb its way out of the conflict.

The anonymous former shura member rejected claims linking recent schoolchildren kidnappings in Oyo State to either ISWAP or JAS. According to him, the perpetrators are unlikely to belong to either group. Instead, they may be newly emerging terrorist cells, former Lake Chad insurgents, or criminal networks that have adopted the rhetoric, tactics, and imagery associated with the Lake Chad insurgency.

Nigeria now faces more than one threat. There are jihadist factions with doctrine, command structure, and transnational links. There are armed gangs with local motives. Some kidnappers borrow religious language. Some opportunists understand that the word Sharia can create fear, attract attention, or confuse investigators.

Bad analysis merges them all while good analysis separates doctrine, network, command, territory, language, and motive. 

The need for precision

Experts say mainstream Islamic scholars must speak with more precision and courage. They must confront takfir clearly and explain why residence under a secular state does not erase religion. They must explain why bad governance does not give an insurgent the right to cancel the faith of millions, why Hajj cannot be demoted by men who need money for weapons, and why Sharia without mercy, restraint, due process, and qualified authority becomes rule by fear.

It is not enough to say JAS has nothing to do with Islam. That may comfort outsiders, but it does not answer the recruit who has heard verses, hadith, juristic language, and historical references. 

Kassim admits he does not see a clear solution. The idea of restoring an Islamic state will remain as long as many Muslims see the Nigerian system as chaotic, unjust, corrupt, and unable to serve its people. The dysfunction of democracy strengthens the insurgents’ claim. 

The insurgents do not need Nigeria to fail. They only need it to be failed enough for a young man to feel humiliated and for a farmer to distrust soldiers. It was enough for a displaced family to feel forgotten. Every abuse becomes a sermon for them. 

Submission as the ultimate test

The fight against JAS and ISWAP is often framed as a fight to win back territory in Sambisa, Alagarno, Mandara, Marte, Abadam, Lake Chad, or the borderlands. But it is also about authority: Who defines religion? Who protects life? Who dispenses justice and punishes wrongdoing? Who can call another person an unbeliever?

This explains why the majority of JAS’s victims have been Muslims. The war has devastated Muslim villages, clerics, farmers, traders, women, children, and displaced families.

JAS and ISWAP are defending their monopoly over religion. And inside that monopoly, Daniel the priest, Ibrahim the imam, the displaced mother, the market trader, the farmer, the journalist, and the child on the road can all meet the same fate. 

In “The Little Sister,” a teenager tries to hide in plain sight. Although everyone comments on her beauty, 17-year-old Fatima prefers to tie her hair back in a ponytail, her bright eyes buried underneath a black ball cap, her body concealed in unflattering tracksuits. As played by first-timer Nadia Melliti, who won the actress award at last year’s Cannes Film Festival, Fatima is encased in a kind of armor, an outward manifestation of her hesitancy to share her sexual orientation with a world she knows will judge her. This graceful film chronicles the process by which Fatima gradually sheds that reserve.

Adapted from Fatima Daas’ 2020 novel “The Last One,” a work of autofiction detailing the French author’s own coming out, “The Little Sister” takes place over five seasons, observing Fatima as she completes grade school and begins attending university. An adept athlete with a tomboyish demeanor, Fatima disappears inside a friend group consisting of immature teen boys who treat her like one of the guys, including her in their raunchy sex talk. Fatima has a boyfriend, Adel (Ahmed Kheloufi), but the relationship feels vestigial, with him constantly complaining that she should dress more feminine. Just as upsetting to Adel: When he tells Fatima that he loves her, she doesn’t respond in kind.

This is the third feature from French actor and director Hafsia Herzi, who herself made an acting splash in 2007’s “The Secret of the Grain.” For “The Little Sister,” Herzi takes a cue from Daas’ book, mapping Fatima’s inner journey as a modest series of tentative steps forward and anxious steps back. Fatima has reason to be skittish. The youngest of three daughters in a loving French-Algerian Muslim family, she conceals any hint of her sexuality from her mother, father and sisters, anticipating their disapproval. Many queer coming-of-age movies position the character’s awakening as an act of defiance. For Fatima, a practicing Muslim who adores her parents, the stakes feel even higher. Melliti’s performance is one of silent suffering, illustrating Fatima’s deference to her family.

But as much as she smothers her desires, others can sense them. An altercation between her friends and a gay male classmate gets heated once the classmate accuses her of being closeted, which she vehemently (and violently) denies. Soon after, Fatima secretly joins a dating app, hoping to understand her queerness. Her first date, in which she uses a fake name, focuses on learning terminology such as scissoring, and she approaches each new encounter like a fact-finding mission. Melliti keeps the shy teenager’s reactions neutral, Fatima’s stoicism a strategy to prevent exposing her inexperience.

That’s when she meets Ji-Na (Park Ji-min, the free spirit of “Return to Seoul”), a physician’s assistant who practically glows in her presence, overwhelming Fatima’s cautious nature. Ji-Na and Fatima’s love story — its blossoming, its unraveling, its possible resuscitation — forms the heart of “The Little Sister,” which also received the Queer Palm at Cannes. Melliti and Park exude a frisky, lusty chemistry, but it’s a film as much about self-love, as Fatima seeks to become comfortable in her own skin. Ji-Na is open and confident while Fatima remains closed off, her shame about her sexuality deeply culturally ingrained. When our main character starts lowering her defenses, however, that’s when she’s hit by a jolt that sends her spiraling.

Herzi’s slender, unassuming drama contains few emotional crescendos or grand insights, although this is the rare French film to center on a Muslim lesbian as its protagonist. “The Little Sister” grows even more intriguing once the love affair runs aground, forcing Fatima to flounder in her heartache. Her odyssey will lead to threesomes and lonely nights, but also difficult questions regarding how her faith and family may leave her perpetually adrift.

“The Little Sister” leaves much unspoken, which is fitting for a protagonist who rarely expresses herself in clear terms. Even during a touching scene near the finale, as Fatima sits at the dinner table weeping, upset over the end of a relationship, she and her mother (Amina Ben Mohamed) engage in a nimble dance: Fatima doesn’t feel safe explaining precisely why she’s crying, while her supportive mom chooses her words carefully, perhaps knowing more about her daughter than she dares say aloud. But despite the character’s rocky path to sexual awakening, Herzi navigates toward a hopeful conclusion that doesn’t peddle phony uplift. Fatima still faces a community that won’t embrace her true self. But maybe, at last, she’s willing to be seen.

Thousands of Muslim Bangladeshis have been detained or deported under West Bengal’s new BJP government.

Al Jazeera’s Ava Warriner explains why critics fear the campaign could deepen religious tensions and test due process protections.