By Ibraheem A. Waziri
(My other essay, Against The Hadith Problem, discussed how Muslim empires in the past lived on a quartet of paradigms produced through the synthesis between the Qur’an, the body of Hadith, and reason. That provoked questions regarding the future of Muslim societies and states, hence these reflections and projections into 2075.)
It is 2075, and the world I walk through feels at once strange and familiar. The glass towers still gleam, drones still hum, algorithms still rule, yet beneath the circuitry there is a slower pulse: the rhythm of old fiqh and older faith.
For all our talk half a century ago of a secular age, the present belongs to hybridity. Constitutions speak the language of the Qur’an without calling it revelation. Western democracies borrow the moral grammar of Medina without feeling conquered. The four old schools of law (Mālikī, Shāfiʿī, Ḥanafī and Ḥanbalī) and the three great theologies (Ashʿarī, Māturīdī and Atharī) are no longer museum exhibits. They are living systems quietly moderating the noise of modernity.
West Africa: The Mālikī Republics
I began this journey in Abuja. The city has doubled in size, but its heart beats in rhythm with the Mālikī canon. In the courthouse, digital panels display sections from Mukhtaṣar Khalīl beside constitutional clauses. When a judge calculates inheritance shares, the algorithm he uses is Mālikī too: transparent, fair and incorruptible.
Even non-Muslim states around the Sahel now use these formulas. Ghana’s civil code borrows Mālikī inheritance rules, while Benin’s marriage registry follows the Islamic ʿaqd nikāḥ (marital contract) model because it ensures equity and consent better than the older colonial templates.
Banking has gone moral. Nigeria’s hybrid finance sector runs on maṣlaḥa-based smart contracts, while interest systems survive only in history syllabi. The ulama sit on the Council of Moral Economies, auditing state budgets for ethical imbalance. “Sharia,” an elderly economist told me, “is not our government; it is our conscience.”
Arabia: The Neo-Atharī Technocracy
From the Sahel, I flew east to Riyadh. The skyline looks like circuitry: solar glass towers, sky bridges humming with data. The Atharī–Hanbalī paradigm still shapes law, but it is encoded now in a literal sense. Hanbalī jurists work with AI engineers who have trained “Hadith logic engines” to map rulings from canonical texts.
The constitution speaks of dual sovereignty: divine law for the moral order, human law for function. A court clerk showed me how every regulatory draft is first run through an algorithm trained on Ibn Ḥanbal and Ibn Taymiyyah, then reviewed by human jurists.
Even cinema has turned pious. Historical dramas about early scholars play in multiplexes. Young Saudis quote Ibn Ḥanbal as easily as they quote quantum code. The result is not rigidity but confidence. They see tradition not as a wall but as a coordinate system for the future.
Southeast Asia: The Shāfiʿī–Ashʿarī Democracy
Jakarta feels like the world’s conscience. The call to prayer threads through a metropolis of electric trams and vertical gardens. The parliament convenes only after the Majlis al-Maqāṣid, the Council of Objectives, certifies that each bill meets four of Sharia’s six ethical aims: life, intellect, property, faith, lineage and justice.
This “maqāṣid democracy” has become the envy of the developing world. Corruption is rare because legislation itself is filtered through moral metrics. University students still memorise al-Nawawī and al-Ghazālī, but they also code in Python and quote maqāṣid theory in debates on climate law.
Shāfiʿī jurisprudence has not stifled freedom; it has disciplined it. A new civic pride glows here. Islam and democracy are no longer hyphenated; they are married.
Ankara: The Ḥanafī–Māturīdī Continuum
And then there is Turkey, the quiet custodian of the Ottoman inheritance. Its universities still teach Māturīdī theology as the bridge between revelation and rationalism. The state calls itself secular, yet its courts and social policy breathe Ḥanafī air.
In 2075, the High Directorate of Moral Logic, a successor to the old Diyanet, reviews every national reform for philosophical balance: does it protect reason (aql) and faith (īmān) equally? The framework is pure Māturīdī.
Turkey’s digital constitution, ratified in 2060, encodes “Ḥanafī modularity,” a principle allowing law to flex with circumstance. The same logic shapes its AI governance, its family law, and even its diplomacy.
From Istanbul outward, this Ḥanafī–Māturīdī ethos has spilt into Central Asia and the Indian subcontinent. Uzbekistan’s civic schools teach both Avicenna and al-Māturīdī. Pakistani fintech startups run on ḥiyal-based smart contracts. The Ottoman blend of faith and rational statecraft has found its second life in circuitry and policy code.
Europe: The Mālikī Renaissance
In Paris, I walked past a law office advertising “Islamic Equity Contracts.” Mālikī inheritance rules, once exotic, are now embedded in the French civil code for their mathematical clarity. Every December, the city hosts La Nuit des Saints, honouring figures from both faiths such as ʿAbd al-Qādir al-Jazāʾirī, Rābiʿa al-ʿAdawiyya and Francis of Assisi. The night ends with poetry readings under the Louvre’s glass dome.
Across the Channel, the United Kingdom has normalised Sharia arbitration. The Hanafi–Maturidi tradition, brought long ago by South Asian immigrants, is now part of national legal pluralism. Judges quote Abū Ḥanīfa in footnotes. Friday sermons mingle Qur’an with Shakespeare, and the term Anglo-Muslim has lost its hyphen; it has become a cultural fact.
The Global Drift Towards Muslim Norms
What surprises me most in 2075 is not conversion, though that too has surged, but imitation. The world has adopted Muslim social standards almost unconsciously.
The ʿaqd nikāḥ, once seen as a religious marriage, is now the global model for civil unions, prized for its symmetry and consent clauses. UN inheritance reforms draw on Mālikī logic for equitable estate division. Even secular citizens in Europe and East Asia now choose contracts modelled after fiqh because they feel fairer, cleaner and more human.
Reverence for saintly figures, long dismissed as superstition, has made a comeback. Shrines to al-Ghazālī, Rūmī, Ibn ʿArabī and even non-Muslim sages now form a new “pilgrim’s circuit of wisdom.” Modern psychology calls it “ancestral grounding.” We simply call it barakah.
As for conversions, some call them reversions; they grow yearly. Not by the sword of argument, but by exhaustion. People wanted meaning, proportion and discipline. They found it in Islam’s cadence: prayer as pause, zakat as fairness, fasting as freedom from appetite. In Europe, nearly one in five now identifies as Muslim or Muslim-shaped; in North America, one in ten. Many of them began not with belief but with admiration for the order that belief produced.
The Entangled Civilisation
By 2075, no state is purely Islamic or Western. The categories have dissolved.
The UN’s Council on Civilisational Ethics opens its sessions with verses from the Qur’an alongside Kantian aphorisms. Global digital charters cite ʿadl, justice, as their guiding principle. Algorithms that allocate water or distribute vaccines carry lines of fiqh-based code to ensure fairness.
The old paradigms have not conquered the world; they have simply proven indispensable. Mālikī–Ashʿarī, Shāfiʿī–Ashʿarī, Ḥanafī–Māturīdī and Ḥanbalī–Atharī each remain alive, shaping ethics, finance, law and art. Their jurists now sit on international boards beside secular philosophers, arguing about AI morality and interplanetary law. The conversation is no longer between faith and reason, but between kinds of reason.
A Closing Reflection
As I write this letter from a café in Fez, the call to prayer blends with the hum of an electric tram. A group of students nearby, Muslim, Christian and atheist, argue over a verse from the Qur’an, not as a theological claim but as a piece of political philosophy. The verse speaks of balance: “We made you a middle community.”
Perhaps that is what we have become by 2075: a middle community for a weary planet. The Western world brought machinery; Islam preserved measure. Together they built a civilisation that still argues, still hopes and still prays. The paradigms the world once thought ancient turned out to be the most modern of all.
