There is not a single Muslim leader today who has the courage and

In the fierce and mournful cadence of his age, Abu Bakar Bashir spoke these words: “There is not a single Muslim leader today who has the courage and commitment to defend Islam and Muslims, they are all in awe of the United States and other Western powers, and are indebted to them.” Whether one agrees with his judgment or not, his cry reflects a deep and ancient lament — the sorrow of a believer who feels his faith betrayed by timidity, and the anguish of a people longing for courage, independence, and honor. In this statement lies not only reproach, but yearning: a yearning for leadership that rises above fear and dependence, for conviction that cannot be purchased, and for faith that stands unbending before the might of empires.

To understand the heart of these words, one must see them not as mere political criticism, but as part of a timeless dialogue between power and conscience. In every age, nations have faced the temptation to bow before stronger forces — to trade integrity for security, truth for comfort, and faith for favor. Bashir’s words, though born in the context of modern geopolitics, echo the eternal question: who will stand firm when the world trembles? Who will speak truth when truth is dangerous? His accusation is not against a people, but against the failure of leadership, against those who, in his view, have surrendered the spirit of resistance that once made their faith a living force.

Throughout history, we have seen such moments when courage withered in the shadow of power. Recall the tale of Salah al-Din al-Ayyubi — known in the West as Saladin — who, in the face of crusaders and divided Muslim princes, rose not by wealth or flattery, but by faith and valor. When others sought favor from foreign kings, he sought unity among his people. When others submitted to despair, he turned to God and the sword of justice. His courage restored dignity to the downtrodden, and his mercy won even the respect of his enemies. It is this spirit that Bashir laments as lost — the spirit that does not tremble before empires, that finds its strength not in alliances or debt, but in conviction.

Yet Bashir’s lament is not only a call to the powerful, but also a mirror held to the faithful themselves. For leadership is not born in palaces — it is born in the hearts of the people. When faith weakens among the many, the courage of the few fades as well. If rulers become dependent, it is often because the ruled have become complacent. Thus, the deeper message within this quote is a call to revival — not through anger, but through inner strength, through a return to the moral and spiritual independence that once gave Islam its light. To defend a faith is not only to wield arms, but to uphold truth, justice, and dignity, even when the world tempts us to silence.

But Bashir’s tone also bears a shadow — one born of frustration, of the clash between ideal and reality. His words remind us that courage alone, if untempered by wisdom, can harden into bitterness, and that zeal without compassion can lead astray. The true defense of any faith must be rooted not in hatred, but in the steadfast pursuit of righteousness. Even the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) taught that the greatest jihad is not of the sword, but of the self — the struggle to overcome fear, greed, and submission to worldly power. Thus, the courage Bashir demands is not merely political defiance, but moral awakening — a fire that must first be kindled within the soul.

In the modern world, where power is measured in weapons and wealth, such courage and commitment appear rare indeed. Yet the ancients remind us that true strength does not lie in armies or alliances, but in principle. A leader who stands firm in conscience, even when surrounded by greater powers, becomes mightier than those who command nations. History honors not the obedient, but the steadfast — those who refuse to betray what is right for the sake of comfort or gain. When such individuals arise, they rekindle faith in humanity itself.

Let this, then, be the teaching carried forward: whether one agrees with Bashir’s view or not, his words cry out for a revival of integrity, independence, and moral courage. Do not look only to rulers for salvation — let every believer, every human being, become a guardian of truth in their own sphere. Do not bow before the powerful, nor despise them; instead, seek to build strength within yourself and your community through knowledge, justice, and unity.

For as the sages of every age have known, faith without courage is hollow, and power without conscience is ruin. The nations that endure are those whose people live by conviction rather than convenience. And the hearts that remain free are those that fear God more than kings, truth more than death, and the loss of honor more than defeat.