Having more than one legal system running is not a sign of a

When Deeyah Khan said, “Having more than one legal system running is not a sign of a healthy or inclusive society. It is just one less thing that people have in common,” she spoke as one who had seen the fractures of civilization from within. Her words are not merely about law — they are about unity, justice, and the fragile thread that binds nations together. For in every age, the law has been the mirror of a people’s soul: when it is divided, so too are they. Khan warns that when societies allow different systems of justice to coexist — one for some, another for others — they no longer serve equality, but division. What was meant to unite becomes the instrument of separation.

In the style of the ancients, we may understand her saying as a lament for the breaking of the civic covenant. For the ancients knew that law is not only rule but ritual, the sacred rhythm that orders the lives of men and women alike. In the time of Solon, the great lawgiver of Athens, a single code of justice was created to replace the arbitrary decrees of nobles and kings, binding rich and poor under the same standard. Solon knew that equality before the law is the foundation of peace, and that no city can stand long when its citizens live under different judgments. To divide the law is to divide the people — and from division, disorder always rises.

The origin of Khan’s thought springs from her life as both artist and activist — a woman of Norwegian and Pakistani heritage, whose work explores the struggle between cultures, values, and belonging. She has witnessed societies torn between secular and religious courts, between modern law and traditional custom. In her experience, the creation of multiple legal systems — whether in the name of religion, culture, or identity — does not bring inclusion, but fragmentation. It deepens mistrust, builds invisible walls between communities, and erodes the sense of shared destiny that every healthy society requires. Her words, therefore, are not against difference, but against the kind of difference that destroys harmony rather than enriches it.

History offers its lessons with brutal clarity. Consider the empire of Rome, whose strength lay not merely in its armies, but in its law — a single code that governed men from Britain to Syria, allowing diverse peoples to live as one under a shared standard. Yet when that unity decayed, when local laws began to override the imperial order, Rome fractured. Provinces became fiefdoms, allegiance faded, and the empire that once called itself eternal fell to dust. The lesson is eternal: a divided law cannot hold a united people. What Khan describes is the same peril in modern form — a moral disunity hidden beneath the illusion of tolerance.

Yet Khan’s warning carries not despair, but wisdom. She reminds us that justice must be universal if it is to be just at all. The law must speak with one voice, not because all people are the same, but because all people deserve the same protection. To create separate systems — one based on religion, one on secular authority, one for the powerful, one for the weak — is to confess that equality is a dream we no longer believe in. In truth, multiple legal systems often serve as a mask for privilege: one set of rules for those with power, and another for those without it. Her words cut to the heart of that hypocrisy and call for a return to the principle that the dignity of every soul must stand equal before the law.

The emotional depth of Khan’s statement lies also in its recognition of what is lost when law ceases to be common ground. A shared legal system is not merely about punishment or regulation — it is a symbol of trust. It tells every citizen: you belong here; you are seen; you are protected by the same hand that protects your neighbor. When that bond breaks, so too does the sense of community. What replaces it is suspicion, resentment, and isolation — each group retreating into its own fortress of belief. This, Khan implies, is the beginning of decay: not the roar of battle, but the quiet crumbling of connection.

The lesson of her words is clear and profound: to preserve peace, a society must build its justice upon common ground. This does not mean rejecting diversity, but rather ensuring that diversity exists within a single framework of fairness. Laws may adapt to culture, but they must never surrender to it. To future generations, let this teaching be remembered: a nation that seeks unity must not divide its conscience. The law must be both shield and mirror — shielding all from oppression, and reflecting the shared humanity that transcends creed, class, and origin.

Thus, let the people remember: the strength of a society lies not in how many laws it writes, but in how equally those laws are kept. When one law governs all, peace is possible. When many laws divide the same land, justice becomes the property of the few. Deeyah Khan’s wisdom stands as a call to vigilance — to ensure that in every age, the law remains not a weapon of division, but the sacred bond of fellowship that binds the destiny of the many into the promise of one.