In Muslim societies, the concepts of wilāya (guardianship) and qiwāma (male authority) remain among the most debated issues, intersecting with jurisprudential, social, cultural, and political structures. Qiwāma is often presented as a religious principle regulating the relationship between men and women, while wilāya functions as a mechanism for organizing authority within the family and society, reinforcing a gendered hierarchy that perpetuates male dominance. Yet, to what extent do these concepts align with contemporary social and political transformations? Is qiwāma a duty or a privilege? Is wilāya a religious necessity or a tool for controlling bodies and minds? How have these concepts evolved from organizational principles into deeply entrenched power structures that justify male privileges and restrict women’s autonomy? And how does this dominance extend into the digital sphere?
Qiwāma is rooted in the Quranic verse: “Men are the protectors and maintainers of women by virtue of what Allah has bestowed upon one over the other and by virtue of what they spend from their wealth” (An-Nisa, 4:34). Wilāya, on the other hand, is more comprehensive, determining who holds decision-making authority within the family and society, such as a father’s guardianship over his daughter or a ruler’s authority over the populace. But have these concepts always been fixed in Islamic jurisprudence, or have they been subject to varying interpretations across eras?
In the early centuries of Islam, qiwāma was tied to men’s economic responsibilities, as the family system relied on the distribution of roles according to social and economic needs. This division was not based on inherent superiority but on functional roles that evolved over time. However, as Islamic societies developed, these concepts were reinterpreted by jurists, solidifying qiwāma as a male privilege rather than a shared responsibility.
In modern societies, qiwāma and wilāya continue to be used as mechanisms to regulate gender relations, with personal status laws rooted in these concepts restricting women’s rights in marriage, mobility, work, and education.
- In Saudi Arabia, women were denied the right to travel, marry, or work without a guardian’s permission until recent legal reforms.
- In Jordan, Egypt, and Morocco, personal status laws still impose restrictions on women’s financial and social autonomy under the umbrella of qiwāma.
- In Sudan, until recently, women required a guardian’s permission to marry, regardless of their age or social status.
If qiwāma is a duty rather than a privilege, why is it practically translated into a male privilege that allows men to control women’s lives without imposing equivalent legal obligations toward them?
The concept of qiwāma has not been static in Islamic jurisprudence, with interpretations varying across schools of thought. In Hanafi jurisprudence, for instance, a woman can marry without a guardian, opening the door for reinterpreting wilāya. Scholars like Ibn Ashur and Muhammad Abduh emphasized that qiwāma is not an absolute delegation of authority but a conditional responsibility tied to competence and capability, thereby dismantling its authoritarian nature. If juristic interpretations are so diverse, why does traditional jurisprudence cling to a monolithic interpretation that serves power structures?
Qiwāma and wilāya are not merely juristic concepts; they have been employed as political and cultural tools to uphold patriarchal dominance. In early Islamic eras, they were part of legitimizing political authority. In modern systems, these concepts are used to maintain social equilibria within a country, serving not only men’s interests but also ensuring the stability of political systems reliant on clear social hierarchies.
With technological advancements, wilāya is no longer confined to the family and society but has extended into the digital sphere through new mechanisms that reproduce male dominance. For example:
- In Saudi Arabia, the Absher app allowed guardians to control women’s movements.
- In some societies, husbands and fathers compel women to share passwords or delete their social media accounts.
- Women’s personal images are used for blackmail, coercing them into compliance with male authority.
Women also face waves of online harassment in the digital space, limiting their participation in public discourse. The digital sphere is further exploited to disseminate religious narratives reinforcing qiwāma and wilāya, such as fatwas justifying husbands’ surveillance of their wives’ online activities or prohibiting women from owning social media accounts without a guardian’s permission.
Qiwāma and wilāya must be reinterpreted in light of the objectives (maqāṣid) of Sharia and their historical contexts, rather than through traditionalist readings alone. Laws criminalizing digital violence against women must be enacted, and legal conditions restricting women’s autonomy must be abolished. Women’s technological and economic empowerment should be supported, alongside programs teaching girls coding and technology. Women’s rights in the digital space must be guaranteed without surveillance or restrictions.
Qiwāma and wilāya are not neutral religious concepts but tools for reproducing male authority within the family and society. While the debate over their interpretation continues, what is needed is a correction of religious readings and a dismantling of the social and cultural structures that turn these concepts into instruments of domination rather than frameworks for justly organizing relationships.
Questioning qiwāma and wilāya is not an intellectual luxury but a step toward reconfiguring gender relations based on partnership and equality, rather than authority and subordination. This can only be achieved through legal reform, a shift in consciousness, and a redefinition of authority within the family and society in accordance with humanistic principles that ensure dignity for all.
Muhammad Ahmad Wadalsak
