It is widely recognized that the sahāba—the companions of the Prophet Muhammad—were the best of humanity after the prophets and messengers. Their superiority as a generation is not only evident but has also established them as role models for all subsequent Muslim generations. We often reference their authority in our theological positions, legal rulings, and ethical practices. However, reflecting on this distinguished generation reveals another important aspect of their legacy: their societal strategies and political aspirations. I believe that Muslims living in the West today can gain valuable insights from this often-overlooked model. Can learn a lot from this oft-neglected model.

From a political perspective, the biography and strategies of the sahāba can be divided into two categories: those who lived under the protection of an Islamic political entity and those who lived under a non-Islamic regime. A notable example of the latter is the early Muslim minority in Makkah, prior to the Prophet’s (sall Allāhu ʿalayhi wa sallam) hijra to Madīna. Additionally, there is another group of companions who sought refuge under a non-Muslim political entity: those who emigrated to Abyssinia, a safe kingdom ruled by a just king, initially a Christian, named al-Najāshi.

Are you in Makkah, Abyssinia or Madina?

Many thinkers have pondered the question of whether we should compare ourselves to the sahāba (the companions of the Prophet Muhammad) in Makkah, Abyssinia, or Madinah. Some argue that we, living in the West, are more akin to the sahāba in Abyssinia. After all, we are not experiencing the same level of persecution they faced in Makkah, and we enjoy relative freedom to practice many aspects of our faith, similar to their situation in Abyssinia. However, in my honest opinion, these similarities do not imply that we share the same overall strategy as they did. I believe that thinking so may be a comforting delusion.

Although there are many lessons to learn from the sahāba in Abyssinia and Madīna, I believe that for a collective political and societal strategy, we should focus on the sahāba in Makkah. It is true that they faced severe persecution, which is not the case for us today—alḥamdulillāh—though we cannot take this situation for granted, as recent history has shown.

The key difference between the two groups is that the sahāba in Makkah, despite being ruled by polytheists and enduring persecution, still regarded Makkah as their home. They viewed the disbelievers of Makkah as their own people. In contrast, the sahāba in Abyssinia did not see it as their home but rather as a temporary dwelling, which influenced their approach and strategy.

Do you really feel this is your home?

Many of us claim to be British and consider Europe our home. However, if we reflect sincerely on our true feelings and actions, we might realize that we don’t genuinely feel like we belong here. We may think of our time here as temporary, believing that one day we will return to our “real” home. Do we truly see Britain, Holland, Germany, Norway, or wherever we live in the Western world as our home? Or do we, like the sahāba in Abyssinia, anticipate the day when we will leave?

This difference in perspective is perhaps most clearly seen in Muslim converts. Our brothers and sisters, whose recent ancestors did not migrate to their current country, do not experience the feeling of being an outsider or not belonging. They genuinely believe that their homes in Europe are their true countries.

They do not feel inferior, nor do they believe they need to prove themselves to “the host” or imitate the predominant or popular trends of other cultures. As a result, they are open and unashamed in expressing their desire for their country to one day embrace Islam in all aspects, so that they can enjoy the mercy of Islam in every sphere of life.

Many Muslims may feel apprehensive about expressing their feelings in the current climate, especially those whose parents or grandparents immigrated to their countries. They might not truly consider this their home and therefore hesitate to “cause a fuss.” This situation stands in stark contrast to the sahāba in Makkah, who, despite facing persecution and differing backgrounds, desired for their fellow Makkans to experience the mercy and enlightenment of Islām. We should aspire to embody that same spirit.

While this may come as a surprise to some, the reasoning behind this perspective is straightforward and well-founded. Allāh (subḥānahu wa taʿālā) has conveyed that He sent Prophet Muhammad (sall Allāhu ʿalayhi wa sallam) as a mercy for all worlds—not just for the Arabian Peninsula or the East. Islām represents a mercy not only for all people but also for the entire ecosystem and beyond. If we consider a place to be our home and a community to be our own, why wouldn’t we want that community to experience this mercy? This vision was exemplified by the Muslim minority in Makkah, guided by the Prophet Muhammad (salli Allāhu ʿalayhi wa sallam), in accordance with many verses of the Qur’an.

“It is He who sent His Messenger with guidance and the religion of truth to manifest it over all religion.” [2]

The Prophet’s repeated efforts to engage with the elite decision-makers in Makkah and beyond clearly demonstrated his ambition to positively influence and reform the existing power structures in order to promote Islām. However, it is evident that his goal was not to seek political power for its own sake; otherwise, he would have accepted the numerous offers to become the king of the Quraysh if he had compromised his message. In simple terms, he wanted Islām to be recognized as the rightful framework of mercy and law from the Creator that should govern His creation. People belong to Allāh and should strive to obey Him in all aspects of their lives.

“And I did not create the jinn and mankind except to worship Me.” [3]

“And We have revealed to you, [O Muhammad], the Book in truth, confirming what came before it from the Scriptures and serving as a criterion over it. Therefore, judge between them by what Allāh has revealed, and do not follow their inclinations that stray from the truth that has come to you. To each of you, We have prescribed a law and a method. Had Allāh willed, He could have made you one united nation in religion; however, He intended to test you with what He has given you. So, race towards all that is good. To Allāh is your return together, and He will inform you about the matters in which you used to differ.”

For some time, I have been trying to draw a connection between the Qur’an and the experiences of early Muslims in Makkah and Abyssinia, and our current experiences in the Western world. I have found that there were three key strategies that guided the political and social ambitions of the sahāba while they lived as a minority in Makkah. These strategies are ones we should also adopt as we move forward.

I. Institution building

As a priority, the Prophet Muhammad (sall Allāhu ʿalayhi wa sallam) and the Sahaba established institutions within society to preserve their faith and identity. A notable example of this is Dār al-Arqam, which served as the center for the Muslim minority in Makkah. These institutions included various levels of education. In Dār al-Arqam, the Prophet Muhammad (sall Allāhu ʿalayhi wa sallam) taught the Sahaba about their religion, addressed social issues, formulated and shared strategies, and performed several other social functions.

This is why we say that Muslims in Europe who wish to strive towards the sahāba’s social and political strategy should prioritise institution building to preserve their identity from the different perspectives. They may also strive to constitutionally and/or legally protect these institutions and ensure their integrity, as a fundamental commandment in the Qur’ān states,

“O you who have believed, protect yourselves and your families from a Fire whose fuel is people and stones, over which are [appointed] angels, harsh and severe; they do not disobey Allah in what He commands them but do what they are commanded.”[5]

II. Da’wah

The second key quality we learn from the sahāba, as a minority in Makkah, is their primary aim on a personal level: da’wah. The propagation and invitation to Islām were not merely individual efforts; rather, they were organized endeavors. The Prophet (sall Allāhu ʿalayhi wa sallam) and the sahāba arranged the da’wah in a coherent and synergistic manner, ensuring it was not conducted haphazardly.

This organized approach is evident in the various stages of da’wah that the Muslims in Makkah undertook. Initially, there was a command to invite those close to the Prophet (sall Allāhu ʿalayhi wa sallam) and the early Muslims to Islām. This was followed by a period of silent da’wah, leading eventually to an open call to all Makkans. Remarkably, it appeared that everyone knew their role, including the children among the sahāba.

For example, Alī b. Abī Ṭālib (raḍiy Allāhu ʿanhu) was only nine or ten years old when he encountered Abu Dharr (raḍiy Allāhu ʿanhu), who was seeking to meet the Prophet (sall Allāhu ʿalayhi wa sallam) to confirm his prophethood. Instead of immediately engaging in da’wah, Alī (raḍiy Allāhu ʿanhu) quietly took Abu Dharr to the Prophet (sall Allāhu ʿalayhi wa sallam) in Dār al-Arqam, as it was a period of silent da’wah. This illustrates that da’wah was strategic and well-organized, and this strategy was effectively communicated throughout the entire community.

III. Social ills

The third command given to Muslims in Makkah was to focus on increasing goodness in society, which is one of the primary aims of the Sharī’ah.

“Indeed, Allah orders justice and good conduct and giving to relatives and forbids immorality and bad conduct and oppression. He admonishes you that perhaps you will be reminded.” [6]

“Have you seen the one who denies the Recompense? For that is the one who drives away the orphan. And does not encourage the feeding of the poor. So woe to those who pray, [but] who are heedless of their prayer? Those who make show [of their deeds]. And withhold [simple] assistance.”[7]

Allāh (subḥānahu wa taʿālā) connects the condemnation of false beliefs with social issues. Those who deny the Day of Judgment are also the ones who mistreat orphans and neglect the need to feed the poor. This serves as a lesson to the sahāba (companions of the Prophet) to excel in these matters as a community, even when the majority of the poor and needy are non-Muslims during this stage of their history. These commands are not just individual instructions; they represent a comprehensive methodology, or manhaj, for the sahāba as a whole. The entire society must work together to address these challenges.

“Woe to those who give less [than due]. Who, when they take a measure from people, take in full. But if they give by measure or by weight to them, they cause loss. Do they not think that they will be resurrected? For a tremendous Day – the Day when mankind will stand before the Lord of the worlds?”[8]

Likewise the Prophet (sall Allāhu ʿalayhi wa sallam) remembered with approval the Hilf al-Fudūl, a pact that he had made with the dignitaries of Makkah to protect unprotected foreigners from suffering any injustice. Although this happened before the prophethood began, the Prophet (sall Allāhu ʿalayhi wa sallam) left no doubt in the minds of the sahāba, by later saying that had he been given the opportunity to participate in such a treaty again, during his prophethood, he would do so.[9]

What about Abyssinia?

To suggest that we should adopt the communal strategy of the sahāba in Makkah does not mean we should ignore the valuable lessons—strategic or otherwise—from the sahāba in Abyssinia or Madīna, who also serve as guiding examples for us today. In fact, it would be inaccurate to claim that we are living under conditions identical to those of Makkah, Abyssinia, or Madīna. Our situation does not entirely resemble any one of these, and there are legislative implications tied to elements from all three contexts. It is more accurate to say that we must draw from the social and political dynamics of all three.

Historian Sheikh Suleman al-Awda has written a thesis on the history of the sahāba in Abyssinia, which offers many insights that are relevant for us today. To summarize his findings, it appears that the sahāba lived in close proximity to one another, intermarrying and raising families together. They were characterized by unity and strong community bonds, while notably remaining uninvolved in political affairs.

Ja’far b. Abi Talib (raḍiy Allāhu ʿanhu) reported that there was an armed rebellion against al-Najāshi, but the Muslims did not participate in defending him. Instead, they observed the battle from across a river, praying for al-Najāshi’s success. Afterward, they sent a sahābi to learn the outcome of the conflict. When they found out that he remained in power, they rejoiced. Remarkably, the sahāba chose not to engage in this political struggle.

The unity and organization of the ṣaḥāba in Abyssinia is clearly illustrated by an incident involving ʿAmr ibn al-ʿĀs, who, on behalf of the Quraysh of Makkah, traveled to al-Najāshi to create discord between the Muslim migrants and their hosts. He informed the then-Christian king that the Muslims under his protection were “blaspheming” against Jesus (ʿalayhi al-Salām), claiming that he was not the Son of God.

In response to this ideological challenge, the first action taken by the Muslims, under the leadership of Jaʿfar ibn Abī Ṭālib, was to convene a council among themselves. Their ability to organize quickly indicates a strong level of coordination. Importantly, no one among them rushed to speak to the king individually. They did not seek to gain favor or to demonstrate that they were “good” or “moderate” Muslims in order to appease him. Instead, they collectively selected a spokesperson who could address both political concerns and the prevailing media narratives.

These key points offer valuable lessons in today’s world, where ideological attacks are common and numerous self-proclaimed representatives and unrepresentative organizations exist, often seeking to appease authorities through compliance.

Summary

To summarize, the Sahāba, as a generation, serve not only as a shining light to guide us in spiritual, theological, and legal matters but also in their social and political strategies. For Muslims today living as minorities under non-Islamic regimes, there are valuable lessons we can draw from the experiences of the Sahāba as minorities in both Makkah and Abyssinia. We can learn from the organization and unity demonstrated in Abyssinia, but I believe we share the overarching strategy of the Makkan minority.

The Makkan minority had a clear vision—to spread the mercy of Allāh to allow everyone to enjoy it. They followed this vision with a well-defined strategy. They prioritized building institutions to preserve their identity and faith (īmān). Their main aim was da’wah (inviting others to Islam), which was organized at various levels rather than being haphazard. They were commanded as a community to engage in society—whether politically, socially, financially, or otherwise—to minimize sins, particularly those related to injustice. This commitment undoubtedly stemmed from their belief that Makkah was their home, even though it was under a non-Muslim regime, and that the Makkan polytheists were still their people.

This is the sunnah of Allāh, to send prophets and messengers to their own people.

“And to ‘Ād [We sent] their brother, Hūd…”[10]

“And to Thamūd [We sent] their brother, Sālih…”[11]

“And to Madyan [We sent] their brother, Shu’ayb…”[12]

As followers of the final prophet, after whom there will be no more, it is our responsibility to carry out the prophetic duties of inviting our people in our countries to the mercy and enlightenment of Islam. But do we truly feel this responsibility?