Constitution or Sharia: Abdul El-Sayed Owes Voters More Than Lip Service

The Supremacy of Law: Why Constitutional Allegiance Demands More Than a Boilerplate Oath

Western political commentary frequently treats religion as a purely private affair – a matter of personal devotion, moral reflection, and weekend rituals. From that vantage point, applying deep theological scrutiny to a political candidate like Abdul El-Sayed is dismissed as bigotry or a violation of democratic norms. But having grown up within orthodox Islam, studied its classical texts, and ultimately walked away from them, I know that this framing misunderstands the fundamental nature of the legal tradition at stake.

The central tension facing any observant candidate seeking legislative power is not racial, cultural, or superficial. It is fundamentally philosophical: Can an individual who claims fidelity to classical Islamic jurisprudence genuinely uphold the ultimate sovereignty of the United States Constitution?

The core premise of American constitutionalism is popular sovereignty – the radical idea that human beings, through collective deliberation and representation, possess the authority to author, debate, alter, and repeal their own laws. The U.S. Constitution begins with the phrase, “We the People.”

In classical Islamic jurisprudence (fiqh), however, sovereignty (hakimiyya) belongs solely to God. Under this doctrine, human beings are not legislators in the true sense; they are executors and interpreters of a pre-existing divine law (Sharia). The moral and civil order is revealed, fixed, and immutable.

When a lawmaker sits in a secular legislature, their fundamental duty is to treat human-authored law as supreme. If a constitutional amendment or statutory provision contradicts traditional jurisprudence, where does an observant believer’s true allegiance lie? For those who believe divine edicts supersede human conventions, placing positive civil law above divine revelation is not merely a political compromise – it borders on theological apostasy. Underlying this legal reality is a simpler historical conclusion: Islam’s origins reflect the earthly ambitions of a single seventh-century tribal leader in the Arabian desert, rather than an unalterable divine decree.

So called scholars often attempt to sanitize Sharia by comparing it to Catholic canon law or Jewish Halakha, arguing it merely dictates prayer schedules, dietary laws, and charitable donations. Anyone who has studied the legal compendiums across the major schools of jurisprudence (madhahib) knows this is an evasion.

Classical Sharia is, by definition, a comprehensive legal and political system. It contains specific, binding rulings on:

• Freedom of Conscience: Classical codes mandate severe criminal penalties for apostasy and blasphemy, directly conflicting with the First Amendment.
• Equality Under the Law: Traditional jurisprudence establishes clear civil and legal disparities based on gender and religious affiliation, particularly regarding inheritance, testimony, and family law.
• The Authority of the State: It envisions a civic order where civil authority is subordinate to religious jurisprudence.

To argue that these components do not exist – or that they are irrelevant to an individual’s worldview – ignores centuries of documented legal tradition. While the so-called modern, progressive Muslims may attempt to reinterpret or bypass these rulings, the underlying theological texts remain authoritative in orthodox institutions. Voters deserve to know whether a candidate treats those classical rulings as archaic historical relics or as binding moral ideals.

Defenders point to the official oath of office as a sufficient safeguard. But oaths are expressions of intent, and intent is shaped by underlying values. In mainstream political discourse, voters routinely scrutinize the foundational worldviews of socialist, libertarian, or conservative candidates to determine how they will exercise power in unforeseen crises. Why should a religious legal philosophy be exempt from the exact same standard?

An oath to the Constitution requires an uncompromising acknowledgment that the Constitution is the supreme law of the land, superior to any ancient text, theological pronouncement, or religious authority. It demands an explicit willingness to vote for, enforce, and protect laws that may fundamentally violate orthodox dogma – including full legal protections for ex-Muslims, religious dissidents, and social equality.

Without a transparent, unequivocal repudiation of classical legal supremacy, voters are asked to place blind faith in political packaging.

What makes this dynamic particularly potent is the strategic asymmetry at play: a democratic constitution is used as both an ideological shield and a vehicle for advancement. The First Amendment’s robust guarantees of religious liberty and free exercise provide an impenetrable defense against public inquiry, while the machinery of secular governance offers the platform to institutionalize influence.

In this view, a system fundamentally designed to prevent theological hegemony ends up being utilized to legitimize and advance a worldview whose ultimate jurisprudential premises reject secular supremacy. By operating entirely within the procedural rules of the host republic, an agenda rooted in classical religious law can progress under the guise of civic participation, leveraging the very constitutional safeguards that were intended to preserve a secular state.

Scrutinizing a candidate’s commitment to constitutional supremacy is not discrimination; it is the fundamental responsibility of an informed electorate.