A strange new alarm is being manufactured in our time—an alarm that travels faster than facts. In social media clips, in talk shows, and now even in parliamentary and congressional messaging, we are hearing a rising cry that “Sharia must be banned” in the United Kingdom and the United States. The claim is repeated with an air of urgency, as if a parallel state is quietly taking over, as if Western civilisation is under legal siege, as if courts have been replaced and constitutions have been hijacked. It sounds dramatic. It sounds mobilising. It sounds like a culture war slogan designed to trigger fear. Yet when one pauses and asks the basic question—what does “Sharia” mean in the UK or the USA in real, legal terms?—the entire narrative starts to collapse under its own exaggerations.

First, Shariah as it exists for Muslims living in non-Muslim countries is not a state law, not a criminal code, not a government “replacement” for British or American law. In practice, what is most often being discussed are voluntary religious opinions and community-based mediation on personal matters such as marriage, divorce, family disputes, and inheritance—issues that Muslims want resolved in a way that aligns with their faith while still living fully under the law of the land. Even in the UK debate, reputable fact-checking has repeatedly stressed that these bodies are not “courts” in the sense of legal authority; they do not override national law, and the word “court” itself misleads the public into imagining a sovereign parallel judiciary.

The “numbers” that inflame public panic are a classic example of how fear grows when precision is absent. Some voices insist that there are “300 Sharia courts” in Britain, and that the UK is “gradually turning into a Muslim country.” But the most responsible public record is blunt: no one has an official, definitive count, and credible estimates vary widely. Reuters, citing the UK’s own independent review, notes that the number of Sharia councils operating in England and Wales is unknown, with academic and anecdotal estimates ranging roughly from 30 to 85—and, importantly, that to the best of the review’s knowledge there were no such councils in Scotland.  Full Fact has likewise explained that there are no definitive figures and that claims about large totals often bundle together everything from major councils to small local forums and online services, turning a complicated social phenomenon into a simplistic “invasion” statistic.  Even evidence submitted in the UK parliamentary process has described the number as disputed, pointing to research that identified around 30 “major” councils while acknowledging smaller local bodies might not have been captured—again, a far cry from the certainty with which “300 courts” is shouted in viral posts.

So why does this fear persist? Because it is emotionally profitable. In politics, the easiest way to rally a base is to create a symbol of threat, strip it of nuance, and repeat it until the public stops asking questions. When Nigel Farage famously claimed there were “80 practising Sharia courts” in the UK, the line travelled further than the careful corrections that followed.  That single sentence became fuel for a decade of “no-go zones,” “Muslim ghettos,” and “parallel legal systems” rhetoric—even though the legal reality remains that Britain’s law is Britain’s law, and religious mediation cannot lawfully supplant it.  In Parliament, Baroness Cox has been among the most prominent figures pushing legislation aimed at restricting or regulating these councils, presenting her campaign as a protection against discrimination—particularly against women—while critics argue the wider debate too often spills into civilisational suspicion rather than focused legal reform.

Now look at the United States. Here, the phrase “Sharia courts” is even more misleading. There is no recognised network of Sharia courts governing cities, no constitutional pathway for such a thing, and no American jurisdiction where Islamic law overrides U.S. law. PolitiFact has addressed the underlying rumour directly: there are no communities “under Sharia law” in the United States in the sense alarmists claim; any attempt to force religious code as law would collide immediately with constitutional limits and civil courts.  Yet the political theatre continues. “Anti-Sharia” messaging has not been confined to fringe social media; it has been institutionalised through recurring legislative attempts, often framed as “foreign law bans,” even when American courts already operate under the Supremacy Clause and constitutional protections.

The scale of that legislative churn is not small. A well-known academic/public-policy tracking project notes that since 2010, over 230 anti-Muslim bills have been introduced or enacted in U.S. state legislatures, and that “anti-Sharia” efforts are part of that ecosystem of institutionalised othering.  The Southern Poverty Law Center has documented waves of anti-Sharia bills over the years, including a spike in state-level introductions in the late 2010s.  And now, in the current congressional atmosphere, the slogan has returned again in high-profile federal proposals. Congress.gov records legislation explicitly titled to keep America “Sharia-free,” and House text for a “No Shari’a Act” frames its purpose as reaffirming that only American law governs American courts, even though that principle is already foundational.

The names behind these pushes matter because the user asked for “renowned politicians,” and because the political mainstreaming of suspicion is precisely the engine of Islamophobia. In the United States, Senator John Cornyn and Senator Tommy Tuberville publicly announced a “No Sharia Act” in October 2025.  On the House side, public communications around “No Sharia” legislation have been promoted by figures such as Congressman Randy Fine, with references to support from other lawmakers.  Separately, Congressman Chip Roy has promoted a “Preserving a Sharia-Free America Act,” reflecting how the phrase has become a repeatable political brand rather than a response to a real legal takeover.

In the United Kingdom, the roster looks different, but the pattern is the same: claims about large numbers, claims about demographic replacement, claims about enclaves, and claims that Britain is “becoming” something else. Petitions have demanded bans on the basis of “85 courts,” illustrating how figures—accurate or not—become a rallying device.  The Times has described the UK as a “western capital” for these councils and repeated the figure of 85 in its own framing, which then further recirculates through social media as “proof” that a parallel state exists.  Meanwhile, fact-checkers and parliamentary materials keep insisting on what the public debate keeps forgetting: there is no legal authority here that outranks national law, and the uncertainty of numbers is routinely exploited by those who want certainty of fear.

All of this is producing something far more dangerous than the imaginary menace it claims to prevent: a widening social permission structure for hostility toward ordinary Muslims. The suspicion is no longer only about “law.” It bleeds into clothing, prayer, diet, family life, neighbourhoods, and identity—turning everyday religiosity into a presumed pathway to radicalisation. In this climate, even the most basic Islamic principle for minorities living in non-Muslim lands is erased: Muslims are religiously obligated to respect the law of the land they live in, and if a society forbids core worship entirely, classical teachings emphasise either compliance with law or relocation rather than rebellion. The modern anti-Sharia campaign, however, behaves as if Muslims are secretly trained to undermine constitutions—when, in reality, most Muslims are simply trying to preserve family norms, marry, divorce, and distribute inheritance in a manner consistent with faith while remaining loyal citizens bound by national law.

And here is the tragedy of misunderstanding that your narrative rightly points to: Western publics are often told that Islam is “incompatible” with Western civilisation, as if Islam is built on hatred of the West. But the deeper truth is that Islam obliges belief in the prophets revered in Judaism and Christianity, including Jesus (peace be upon him) and Mary—an interfaith common ground that is rarely highlighted in angry soundbites. When that commonality is buried, fear fills the vacuum. Demagogues then sell the public a simplified enemy: “Sharia.” It becomes a code-word, not for a real legal system in London or Texas, but for the presence of Muslims themselves.

If the aim is genuinely to protect women’s rights and protect citizens from coercion, then the honest path is specific reform: ensure civil marriage registration, strengthen legal aid and awareness, clarify that any religious mediation cannot pretend to be a state court, and prosecute coercion or abuse wherever it occurs—without turning an entire faith into a suspect class. That is what serious governance looks like. What we are watching instead is the conversion of ignorance into policy branding, and policy branding into social hostility.

This is why the new “ban Sharia” wave must be confronted with calm, verified facts and moral clarity. In the UK, we do not have “300 Sharia courts”; we have contested estimates of voluntary councils—often described in the range of about 30 to 85 in England and Wales, with no confirmed presence in Scotland in the cited independent review.  In the United States, we do not have Sharia-governed towns; we have recurring anti-Sharia bills and rhetoric that treats Muslims as a fifth column even while the Constitution already governs the courts.

The time has come for philosophers, thinkers, and religious scholars—Muslim, Christian, and Jewish—to raise the level of discourse in public spaces, especially on social media where fear spreads fastest. If the West can learn once more to distinguish between a citizen’s private religious ethics and the public law of the state, then Muslims who live in the UK and the USA—obeying the law, contributing to society, paying taxes, raising families, and pursuing dreams—can continue to live in peace, with dignity, and with the freedom that Western civilisation itself claims to cherish.

The writer is Press Secretary to the President (Rtd),Former Press Minister, Embassy of Pakistan to France,Former Press Attaché to Malaysia and Former MD, SRBC. He is living in Macomb, Michigan, USA