What we are living through today, and what we are suffering from in our contemporary life, raises a bitter question: “Why do we suffer?”
Yes, we do suffer—deeply and genuinely. Our Islamic societies, and Muslims living in states whose constitutions officially declare Islam as the state religion, are suffering greatly, in painful and manifold ways. We suffer from the absence of freedom. We suffer from terrorism. We suffer from harsh economic and social conditions. Some may assume that this suffering is primarily linked to politics, economic models, or social and class structures—and all of that is certainly present. But the deepest and most consequential cause of this suffering is religious discourse itself: the religious current that governs these countries. And here I do not mean political Islam alone, but rather traditional Islam and the traditional institutions that control the Islamic state and dominate Muslims through what is known as the “Qadiri creed.”
The Qadiri document has been the backbone of the Muslim crisis for the past 1,400 years and continues to be so today. If we ask why Muslims have failed to advance, the answer is the Qadiri creed. Why have we not witnessed an Islamic civilization that grows, flourishes, strengthens, endures, and leaves a lasting legacy? Even by the narrow Salafi definition—one that reduces civilization to politically and militarily dominant imperial states—the answer remains the same: the Qadiri creed. Why do sectarian and religious conflicts proliferate in Muslim societies? Why are these societies fragile and vulnerable to terrorism and extremist organizations? All of this, the author argues, stems from the Qadiri document and the Qadiri creed.
The Document of “Brother” al-Qadir Billah
During the Abbasid era, a caliph named al-Qadir Billah came to power. By God’s decree, he ruled for 41 years, making him the longest-reigning caliph of his time. His rule followed a period in which Islamic civilization had thrived and ascended through diversity and pluralism, under the intellectual legacy of al-Ma’mun. Baghdad was then a global center of knowledge, culture, and translation from Greek and Hellenistic civilizations. Scholars advanced medicine, mathematics, astronomy, physics, and chemistry. This flourishing occurred under a climate of diversity and pluralism and the elevation of reason, championed by the Mu‘tazilites—whose ideas al-Ma’mun and his successors embraced.
That trajectory came to an end with al-Mutawakkil, who turned against pluralism, rational inquiry, human agency, and respect for science. From there began a long period of decline, culminating in the year 408 AH with the rise of “Brother” al-Qadir Billah.
That year saw the emergence of what became known as the Qadiri creed, or the Qadiri document. It is said that a cleric named al-Karkhi authored it some 60 years before its formal declaration, driven by intense hostility toward the Mu‘tazilites. Ultimately, the document appears to have been a collective effort by individuals who imagined themselves the masters of knowledge and scholarship—figures deeply hostile to reason and Mu‘tazilite thought, and consumed by an obsessive hatred of Shiites.
For the first time in Islamic history, a caliph and ruling authority openly deployed coercion, repression, killing, imprisonment, flogging, and every available instrument of violence and torture to declare: This—and only this—is Islam. What I see and believe is the one true religion.
A Constitution of Repression
The Qadiri document was decreed to be Islam itself. It was to be read to Muslims in all major mosques and public squares of the Abbasid caliphate, and every governor and ruler was ordered to enforce it as the sole religious constitution. The matter did not stop there: anyone who deviated from it was deemed an infidel or a heretic, subject to punishment and execution.
As a result, we witnessed how the ruler of the Ghaznavid state, invoking this document, carried out mass executions of Mu‘tazilites, Shiites, Murji’ites, and all adherents of dissenting doctrines—alongside book burnings and the destruction of manuscripts that expressed ideas outside the approved creed.
The text of the document was explicit from the outset: “This is the creed of the Muslims. Whoever opposes it has committed heresy and disbelief.” In this way, the door of ijtihad was closed, reason was confiscated, and entire schools of thought, scholars, and thinkers were erased. This doctrine was declared the exclusive creed of “Ahl al-Sunna wal-Jama‘a,” revealing a monopoly on religious legitimacy. Shiites, Mu‘tazilites, and Ibadis also possess prophetic traditions—so why is the label “Sunna” monopolized? Why claim to represent “the community” while other sects and schools exist? And if the goal is to defend the Muslim community, why is it achieved through killing and excommunication?
The document stated plainly that those who adhered to it were on the straight path and deserved salvation, while anyone who spoke differently after 408 AH was a sinner or an unbeliever.
It declared apostasy—and mandated death—for those who said the Qur’an was created, thereby excommunicating the Mu‘tazilites entirely. It also declared those who abandoned prayer unbelievers, prohibited discussion of conflicts among the Companions, imposed a fixed hierarchy of loyalty among them, barred preference for Ali ibn Abi Talib, and required that Mu‘awiya be mentioned only positively. This is the same worldview we live with today—not only among Salafists, but among terrorists as well. In all honesty, the author argues, the Qadiri creed and document are the ideological foundation of al-Qaeda and ISIS.
An Alliance of Two Faces
The reality is that ISIS and al-Qaeda implement nothing that is not grounded in Islamic heritage, in the Qadiri document, and in what these groups call the creed of “Ahl al-Sunna wal-Jama‘a.” The author challenges anyone to identify a single act of brutality—by ISIS, al-Qaeda, or al-Nusra—that is not justified through a Qur’anic interpretation, a prophetic tradition, or an early juristic ruling. Beheadings, massacres, torture, bloodshed, village destruction, and rape were all committed under this creed, which they claim represents Islam, and under which dissenters are deemed sinners or infidels.
This path closed the door to ijtihad, disagreement, and renewal.
The greatest catastrophe is that the Qadiri document has two faces: a soft face, represented by official religious institutions and state sponsorship, which addresses “heresy” through laws on blasphemy, censorship, and prohibition; and a hard, violent face, embodied by extremist organizations that kill and bomb. Yet both operate under the same banner, slogan, and constitution: the Qadiri creed, which seeks to eliminate anyone who does not submit to its claim of absolute truth.
Both faces—soft and brutal—seek to impose their religion and worldview. This creed enjoys broad acceptance among those who identify as Ash‘aris, Sunnis, or Hanbalis, who embrace it as unquestioned truth. That is the disaster. Yes, there is a disaster—and if one does not believe that, then nothing written here has meaning. We are still living under the weight of a decree of intellectual paralysis written a thousand years ago, one that continues to control our present and our future. If we fail to grasp the magnitude of this catastrophe, our suffering will persist.
