In the late 19th century, the concept of an "Islamic state” resurfaced as a subject of renewed debate in global political and intellectual circles. Yet historically, what existed was not an abstract "Islamic state,” but rather states governed by Muslims. Following the Hijra, the Prophet Muhammad established a political entity in Medina; this structure rapidly expanded – especially during the caliphate of Hazrat Umar – beyond the Arabian Peninsula into a vast geography that included present-day Iran. For a period, nearly half of the inhabited world lived under Muslim political rule.

The discussions that took place after the death of Hazrat Abu Bakr, during the process that led to Hazrat Umar becoming head of state, are particularly striking from the perspective of Islamic political thought. Hazrat Abu Bakr was referred to as Khalifat Rasulillah (Successor of the Messenger of God) because he directly followed the Prophet. However, when the title to be given to Hazrat Umar was debated, a deeper question arose regarding the very nature of political authority: What, exactly, would the ruler of the state do?

The answer was: "to attend to the affairs of the people.” Thus, instead of a title implying sacred representation, a worldly description of responsibility was adopted. This approach offers an important clue about Islamic political thought: state governance is conceived not as a sacred, otherworldly function, but as a worldly area of responsibility. Contemporary Islamic thinkers such as Süleyman Uludağ have underscored this point, emphasizing that governance is fundamentally a human activity.

Religious state, Ottoman practice

This brings us to the core question: Is governance, by its nature, a religious matter or a worldly one? While it is often asserted that Islam does not recognize a strict separation between religion and worldly affairs, historical practice suggests that state administration has largely been treated as a worldly domain. In Western history, by contrast, the Middle Ages witnessed the experience of a papal, theocratic state. This understanding was eventually dissolved and abandoned.

The Ottoman Empire provides an illuminating example in this regard. Although Islamic law was operative in governance, örfi (customary) law – rooted in Turkish state tradition and the sultan’s regulatory authority – also maintained a strong presence. Moreover, the decentralized administrative structure of the empire allowed broad latitude for communities of different faiths. Muslims, Christians and Jews lived side by side within a legal framework. The state largely withheld from intervening in individuals’ daily lives or inner worlds, as long as justice was served and public order was maintained.

French Revolution, sacred state

This balance was fundamentally altered by the French Revolution. In its aftermath, the state acquired an ideological character and was positioned almost as a "sacred” entity. The sacred state model that the West had abandoned in the Middle Ages returned in secular form within the nation-state. Republican regimes no longer restricted themselves to producing justice and order; they became projects aimed at shaping citizens’ identities, consciousness and sense of belonging. German, French, English or Turkish identities were constructed in this process, with divinity transferred from God to the nation-state.

Years ago, while reflecting on Iran, I posed a simple question to myself: Is a religious state possible under the roof of a nation-state? Iran defines itself as an "Islamic Republic” and claims to be based on Islamic law. Yet, a closer look at its institutional structure reveals that the entire system is built upon the logic of the modern nation-state.

Multilayer pressure

Herein lies the fundamental problem. The nation-state is already a powerful ideological apparatus that shapes citizens’ identities, minds and behaviors. When a second layer of identity construction – this time grounded in religion – is added on top of this, citizens are subjected to multilayered pressure. In Iran’s case, the disciplining mechanisms of the nation-state overlap with a system of religious self-surveillance, leaving the individual tightly constrained.

Historically, the endurance of states has depended not on demanding absolute obedience or constant ideological loyalty from citizens, but on fostering relatively free individuals who pay their taxes and refrain from disrupting public order. In cases like Iran, however, citizens struggle to breathe under the combined pressure of nation-state ideology and religious interpretation.

From this point of view, trying to run a religious state within the modern nation-state creates deep and lasting problems. Islamic law tends to work better in political systems that are broad, diverse and flexible, such as empires, rather than in nation-states, which aim to centralize power and make society uniform. Iran is one of the earliest and clearest examples of what happens when these two models are combined.

Today, as possible U.S. military strikes against Iran are once again being discussed and the country returns to the center of world attention, this issue goes beyond daily political news. It raises a basic and enduring question: can a modern nation-state and a religious state truly exist together in a stable and fair way? Iran’s experience shows how hard – and how risky – this combination can be.