The world today openly talks about globalization and the emergence of a new world order. Ideas of global governance, collective security, and universal systems of economy or technology are widely debated and promoted. Yet, when it comes to Muslims suggesting a system based on Islamic values—or even imagining ourselves in positions of authority on a global scale—the very idea often feels too big or too dangerous. Why is that? Is it simply fear of worldly powers, or have we developed a kind of slave mentality that prevents us from even dreaming of Islam as a global system?

As I wrestled with this question, I realized there is a fine but critical distinction between striving for a global system and seeking power for its own sake. The purpose of Islam, as I initially understood it, has never been about political domination. Its ultimate aim is to bear witness to the truth before humanity - shahadat ala-naas - by living, preaching, and upholding justice and righteousness. Islam’s mission is not merely to acquire authority, but to establish truth and accountability to Allah in every sphere of life.

But then I came across Surah al-Fath (28) and it shook me inside: “It is He who sent His Messenger with guidance and the religion of truth, to make it prevail over all other ways of life.” For a moment, I felt as though my conclusion was wrong - because here Allah Himself speaks of His Deen prevailing, of gaining dominance over all other systems. It was as if the Qur’an was reminding me that while Islam does not seek power for its own sake, the natural outcome of truth is to prevail, and that prevailing inevitably means authority, influence, and power. But then, as I kept on reflecting on the next ayah of Surah al-Fath, it dawned on me that this does not mean domination for its own sake. Quran is not describing a lust for power, but a divine promise: when truth is lived, preached, and upheld with patience, it will ultimately prevail over falsehood.

Looking at the Prophet ﷺ’s life, the process becomes clearer. In Makkah, he and his companions did not resist oppression with force. Their only mission was da’wah - calling people to tawheed - while enduring persecution with patience. When Allah opened the way to Madinah, they gained authority and power, fulfilling the divine promise. Here Surah al-Fath (29) captures the entire journey through a powerful metaphor: the companions are like a seed sown in the ground, then nurtured until it grows, strengthens, stands firm, and finally produces fruit. This is the organic growth of Islam - from weakness, to strength, to maturity.

This imagery helped me resolve my earlier hesitation: is Islam’s default state really power? The answer is more nuanced. Islam’s default state is growth towards its divine purpose. Power is not the starting point, nor the immediate target, but the natural outcome when da’wah, tarbiyah, and collective struggle are nurtured with patience, sincerity, and trust in Allah. When power comes, it must be viewed only as a trust - an amanah - not as the end goal.

That is why our struggle, or jihad, must always remain in the path of Allah, guided by sincerity, patience, and ethics. This means continuous da’wah, reform, service, and striving - regardless of whether political authority is achieved or not. If power does come, it must be seen only as a trust granted by Allah’s will, never as the primary target of our efforts. When power itself becomes the goal, the struggle easily degenerates into a pursuit of domination, nationalism, or self-interest rather than divine purpose.

From this perspective, two outcomes are possible. A struggle without power is still valuable in Allah’s sight, because the essence lies in striving faithfully. A struggle with power carries added responsibility to implement justice, but even then, the timing and the outcome remain in the hands of Allah. What matters most is that we continue on the path sincerely, without falling into a slave mentality of fear on one side or a power-hungry mentality on the other.

But this reflection leads to another question: is it even practical to think of a just global system in today’s framework of nation-states? The modern world is divided into sovereign nations, each protecting its own interests and identity. This reality creates fragmentation rather than unity, and competition instead of cooperation. Nations prioritize their own wealth and security, often at the expense of weaker ones. Nationalism, by its very nature, elevates one group above others. Even when states talk about justice or human rights, they are usually applied selectively, favoring their own citizens or allies. Within such a framework, the idea of a truly equal, global justice system becomes nearly impossible.

Islam’s vision is different. It is not confined by man-made borders. It speaks of the ummah as one community and of justice as a universal principle, not a national one. The Qur’an commands believers to “stand firmly for justice, even against yourselves or your kin” (4:135). This was not just an ideal but something witnessed in practice, especially in the Prophet ﷺ’s time in Madinah and the era of the Rightly Guided Caliphs. Jews, Christians, and others lived under Muslim rule with guaranteed rights, their protection ensured regardless of nationality or tribe. Justice was anchored in divine principles, not in national interest, setting a model that still challenges the limits of today’s nation-state framework.

Today, however, the nation-state system and balance-of-power politics dominate global affairs. Any attempt to present a unified Islamic framework is seen as a threat to sovereignty, both by Muslim governments and non-Muslim powers. This is why global justice feels like an unrealistic dream. Yet Islam reminds us that our duty is to strive for universal justice and unity at least as an intellectual and moral vision, even if the world resists it. Overcoming barriers like nationalism, racism, and tribalism is itself part of the spiritual struggle of the ummah.

If we think practically about how Muslims could move in this direction, the journey cannot be about overnight revolutions. It has to be a gradual transformation, beginning with hearts and minds, then institutions, and eventually global influence. In the short term, this means reawakening ummah-consciousness through education, media, scholarship, and youth engagement. In the medium term, it requires building shared institutions - economic, educational, social, and scholarly - that weaken divisions created by borders. In the long term, it demands regional cooperation, a unified presence in global forums, harmonization of ethical and legal frameworks, and training leaders who can engage with the world confidently while rooted in Islamic values.

Throughout all these phases, one principle must remain central: power is a trust, not the goal. Our efforts must be guided by sincerity, justice, and service to humanity, not a desire for supremacy. The way of struggle is ours; the outcome belongs to Allah.

If we can hold on to this balance, Muslims can rise above nationalism and present Islam as a genuine system of justice for the world - not through fear, nor through a lust for power, but through faithfulness to our role as witnesses before humanity.