يَا أَيُّهَا الَّذِينَ آمَنُوا كُونُوا قَوَّامِينَ بِالْقِسْطِ شُهَدَاءَ لِلَّهِ وَلَوْ عَلَىٰ أَنفُسِكُمْ أَوِ الْوَالِدَيْنِ وَالْأَقْرَبِينَ ۚ إِن يَكُنْ غَنِيًّا أَوْ فَقِيرًا فَاللَّهُ أَوْلَىٰ بِهِمَا ۖ فَلَا تَتَّبِعُوا الْهَوَىٰ أَن تَعْدِلُوا (النساء 135)

“O you who believe, be persistently standing firm in justice, witnesses for Allah, even if it be against yourselves or parents and relatives. Whether one is rich or poor, Allah is more worthy of both. So follow not personal inclination, lest you not be just.” (An-Nisa 4:135)

There exists a painful irony in our communities: those with the most power to effect change are often the least likely to use it. Our respected leaders, the imams, speakers, and community figures who command attention from polished podiums, find themselves trapped in cages of their own making, gilded with reputation and lined with public approval.

These leaders operate within an invisible prison of expectations. Their sermons speak of justice, their lectures emphasize moral courage, yet when faced with real instances of abuse or manipulation, they often retreat into the safety of platitudes and general advice. The very platform that gives them influence becomes their chain, as the fear of losing their standing paralyzes their ability to take meaningful action.

The tragedy lies not just in their compromise, but in their calculation. What begins as cautious neutrality often evolves into strategic alignment with those perceived as powerful. These leaders, having invested years in building their influence, become astute readers of power dynamics. They recognize that siding with the stronger party, even if that party is the source of harm, offers an opportunity to not merely preserve their standing, but to enhance it.

Their responses follow predictable patterns, wielding sacred texts as instruments of restraint rather than liberation. When victims approach them with evidence of manipulation or abuse, they deploy a carefully curated arsenal of religious teachings, always emphasizing forbearance over justice, silence over truth.

“Sabr is the path of the prophets,” they remind the victim, quoting hadith about patience without mentioning those about standing against oppression. They cite verses about forgiveness while conveniently overlooking those that command confronting injustice. These same leaders, so quick to quote the Quran to restrain the vulnerable, fall conspicuously silent when faced with the transgressions of the powerful. Their religious scholarship becomes selective, expansive in burdening the victim with spiritual obligations, yet remarkably narrow when it comes to addressing the abuser’s accountability. They readily invoke traditions about preserving community harmony when victims speak up, but seem to forget the numerous texts about the obligation to stop harm and protect the vulnerable. This calculated deployment of religious wisdom serves not to uphold divine justice, but to maintain their own delicate position in the community’s power structure.

More insidious is how manipulators exploit this leadership weakness. They understand that community leaders are often more invested in maintaining their influence than wielding it. By presenting themselves as supporters of these leaders’ programs, donating to their causes, or simply being visible in their circles, manipulators buy a form of immunity. They create situations where any action against them would require the leader to expend precious social capital, a cost few are willing to bear.

The power dynamics reveal themselves most clearly in how these leaders choose sides. Some align themselves with whoever appears strongest at the moment, seeing in these alliances opportunities for expanded influence. Others position themselves as champions of selective justice, carefully choosing causes that will enhance their reputation while minimizing their risk. In either case, the pursuit of justice becomes secondary to the accumulation of influence.

Perhaps most troubling is how these dynamics create a self-reinforcing cycle of power. Leaders and abusers often form implicit alliances, each lending legitimacy to the other. The leader gains the backing of influential supporters, while the abuser gains protection through association with respected figures. This mutual exchange of credibility creates a fortress of influence that becomes increasingly difficult to challenge.

These leaders have mastered what might be called “strategic ignorance.” They cultivate an ability to know just little enough about a situation to avoid being compelled to act. They become experts at maintaining plausible deniability, always positioned just far enough from clear evidence to justify their inaction. This careful distance from uncomfortable truths allows them to maintain their public role while avoiding the messiness of real intervention.

The cost of their compromise is paid not in their own currency, but in the broken spirits and shattered trust of those they fail to protect. Every time they choose their reputation over justice, every time they opt for artificial peace over painful truth, every time they align with power over divine principle, they lay another brick in the very fortress of oppression they claim to oppose. Their menbar, once the platform where divine truth thundered through the words of the Prophet ﷺ, stands now as a monument to betrayed obligations. Their microphone amplifies not the clear call of justice but the hollow echo of their silence, reaching every corner of the masjid yet touching no conscience. And their influence, built upon years of eloquent speeches and carefully curated wisdom, stands as a testament not to what they did, but to what they dared not do when Allah’s creation needed them most.