Islamic scholar Islam Uddin argues that the growing trend among Muslim modernists to reject the divinely ordained names “Muslim” and “Islam” is weakening Islamic identity, fostering theological confusion and advancing secular ideological agendas.
Words and language are never neutral. They shape identity, establish boundaries, and signal allegiance. In Islam, language carries even greater weight because revelation itself is conveyed through words chosen by Allah.
The Qur’an does not merely describe belief in abstract terms; it names it. Likewise, the Prophet ﷺ defined faith (iman), submission, and belonging through precise language. For this reason, how one speaks about Islam – and how one identifies in relation to it – is not a peripheral concern. It is a theological one.
In recent discourse, a troubling trend has emerged: individuals who claim belief in Islam yet proactively refuse to identify as “Muslim” or to use the term “Islam” as a self-description. They often insist that this does not amount to a denial of Islam or a rejection of Allah or His Messenger ﷺ. Instead, they explain their position through cultural, anthropological, or sociological language. Islam becomes a culture, a moral tradition, or an object of academic study – but not an identity they wish to carry.
At first glance, this may appear intellectually nuanced. In reality, it represents a serious problem from an Islamic perspective.
Allah explicitly names this (din) religion and its adherents. “He has named you Muslims before and in this revelation” (22:78). This is not a label that emerged through history or culture; it is divine designation. The Prophet ﷺ likewise defined Islam in clear and concrete terms, and the companions understood themselves as Muslims without embarrassment, hesitation, or reinterpretation. The language of Islam was not optional to them – it was constitutive of belief itself.
To deliberately distance oneself from the name “Muslim,” while still claiming belief, is therefore not a neutral linguistic preference. It is a refusal to adopt the very terms through which Allah defines faith.
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It is important to be precise. Many who adopt this language do not intend disbelief (kufr). Islamic theology gives great weight to intention (niyyah), and intent protects a person from takfir. However, Islam does not evaluate speech only through intention. Meaning, implication, and consequence all matter. A statement may be sincere in intent and yet still be spiritually and religiously harmful.
This is where the category of fisq (deviancy) becomes relevant. Openly and deliberately refusing the name “Muslim” while affirming Islam constitutes fisq because it involves rejecting divinely chosen terminology, adopting non-Islamic frameworks to define Islam, and introducing confusion into how the din is understood and lived.
Islam is not merely an inward belief; it is submission that manifests in identity, language, and allegiance. Stepping away from the name “Muslim” is therefore not simply stepping away from a word (and bad practices of some people) – it is stepping away from the framework Allah Himself established.
There is also a psychological dimension that makes this trend particularly dangerous. Identity is formed and reinforced through language. When a person repeatedly refuses a core religious label, their relationship to that religion subtly shifts. Islam becomes something they analyse rather than something they inhabit. Over time, this can produce emotional and cognitive distance from obligation, even if belief is verbally maintained. Language does not merely express belief; it shapes it.
Public language has consequences beyond the individual. When figures reject the term “Muslim” while claiming Islam, it signals to others that Islamic identity is optional, unstable, or outdated. What begins as “personal framing” becomes communal ambiguity. The clarity that preserves iman (belief) is gradually replaced by confusion disguised as sophistication – which then may lead to denial of Islam.
‘Abrahamic faith’
This phenomenon cannot be separated from a broader ideological context. The increasing reluctance to name Islam clearly aligns with the rise of the “Abrahamic faith” framework, which groups Judaism, Christianity, and Islam into a single moral and spiritual family. While the term may appear benign or academic, its modern prominence is deeply rooted in historical and political developments.
After the Second World War, Jewish–Christian dialogue was actively promoted to overcome centuries of antisemitism in Europe. This laid the groundwork for interfaith language that emphasised commonality over doctrinal distinction. This trajectory expanded significantly during the Second Vatican Council (1962–1965), particularly through Nostra Aetate, which encouraged improved relations between the Catholic Church, Jews, and later Muslims. From that point onward, interfaith engagement increasingly relied on shared categories rather than theological clarity.
From the 1970s, universities, governments, and NGOs adopted “Abrahamic faiths” as a standard framework for dialogue. After the attacks of September 11, 2001, this language became ubiquitous. Governments, media institutions, and interfaith organisations promoted the Abrahamic narrative as a way to reduce perceived religious tension and reframe Islam in the Western imagination. The goal was not merely understanding, but containment – redefining Islam in ways that would neutralise perceived threat.
This trend reached a new level with the Abraham Accords in 2020, where political normalisation between Israel and several Arab states was framed through religious symbolism. Projects such as the Abrahamic Family House institutionalised this narrative. The message was clear: religious identity must be softened, harmonised, and reinterpreted to serve political ends – of the secular West.
In this context, refusing the name “Muslim” is not an isolated intellectual choice. It aligns – whether intentionally or not – with a broader effort to dissolve Islamic distinctiveness into a shared “religious” or “spiritual” identity. Clear theological boundaries become obstacles. Those who insist on Islam as a divinely defined, exclusive way of life are increasingly framed as extremists threatening a manufactured unity.
Deviation
History shows this is not new. Muslim intellectual tradition has repeatedly encountered people and groups that repackaged deviation in sophisticated language – philosophical sects, esoteric interpretations, and political theologies that diluted revelation while claiming depth. Their rhetoric was often polished. Their outcome was always confusion.
Islam does not preserve itself through ambiguity. It is preserved through clarity, submission, and naming. The companions of the Prophet ﷺ did not search for alternative frameworks to describe their faith. They embraced the name Allah gave them because they understood that identity in Islam is not a burden – it is an obligation.
In conclusion, refusing to identify as Muslim, in the manner some present, while affirming Islam does not automatically remove a person from the fold of Islam. But it is not neutral, and it is not harmless. When done deliberately and publicly, it constitutes fisq. It undermines divinely established language, weakens religious identity, and contributes to a broader ideological project that seeks to redefine Islam on non-Islamic terms.
In Islam, words matter because Allah chose them. And when Allah names something, believers do not have the right to rename it – or to step away from it while still claiming it as their own.
