The Decadent Affluent

I know many of you will raise counterexamples, pointing out that at least some individuals who appear religious actually behave in ways that are entirely contrary to what they preach. And I also know that I will likely agree with nearly all of these examples—indeed, I may even find myself unable to resist adding a few more of my own. That is precisely why I have long been arguing that outward appearances of religiosity are not enough; that placing one’s trust in the mere image of piety is deeply problematic; and that one cannot meaningfully speak of religiousness without embracing the virtues of criticism and self-criticism.

Still, I maintain this: in confronting economic injustice, a spirituality-based perspective is just as essential as legal and social struggle. Spirituality is necessary—not only to anchor the fight against envy, greed, avarice, extravagance, hoarding, interest, and usury in moral virtue, but also to provide existential reinforcement for contentment, charitable giving (infāq), and solidarity.

But to do so, we must first repair our approach to the pillars of religion—rituals reduced to mere obligations, fulfilled without any intention of seeking a deeper understanding of faith, or of refining the soul and transforming the self. We must continually bring to the forefront those virtues that are inherently tied to genuine piety, along with concepts—such as the decadent affluent, the very title of this essay—which, though cloaked in religious imagery, in fact stifle true spirituality and empty religious life of its moral force.

Let me explain further.

Is Islam Against Wealth?

The concept of mütref in the Qur’an appears to be closely tied to a particular socio-economic orientation. In classical exegetical sources, mütref refers to:

“Those who live in abundant luxury, who incur divine wrath by using Allah’s blessings in ways that contradict His will; who pursue comfort and pleasure; who grow arrogant amidst the bounties they are given; who abandon religious obligations such as enjoining good and forbidding evil; who forget Paradise and choose worldly life instead; who forsake the Hereafter and indulge in the pleasures and distractions of this world; who try to ‘enjoy life’ while leaving little room for moral and spiritual concern—and others like them.”
(quoted by Nurettin Turgay, Bilimname XII, 2007/1, pp. 75–99)

Building on these definitions, a number of contemporary thinkers have sought to examine Islam’s attitude toward wealth and the wealthy through the lens of the decadent affluent. Some of these reflections are genuinely clarifying and even redemptive—among them, an article by the late scholar Faruk Beşer.
(See: https://www.yenisafak.com/yazarlar/farukbeser/kuranikerim-zenginlere-ve-zenginlige-karsi-midir-2044989)

Professor Beşer begins by stating that “if one reads only certain verses with a preconceived bias,” it may appear that the Qur’an is hostile toward wealth and the wealthy. He continues:

“Indeed, according to the Qur’an, much of the corruption on Earth is caused by the wealthy who live in indulgence. The term mütref is used in many verses to refer to such people. A mütref is a wealthy individual who lives in reckless excess, who forgets Allah and his servitude to Him, and who ultimately leads others astray. One could even call them capitalists. ‘When We decide to destroy a nation, it is because its decadent affluent transgressed therein, even after Our command had reached them. Thus, Our word is fulfilled, and We overturn that nation from top to bottom.’ (Isra / 16)”

In this and similar verses, the Qur’an links a turning away from worship, forgetfulness of Allah, the oppression of the vulnerable, and the transformation of wealth into du’le—that is, a tyrannical force that crushes the poor—to a kind of wealth that is left unaccountable, unrestricted, and ungoverned by ethical limits.

Still, nowhere in the Qur’an are wealth itself or the wealthy intrinsically condemned. The source of evil lies in how wealth is used—specifically, when it becomes a tool for injustice and rebellion against Allah. In such cases, wealth may offer more opportunities for sin than poverty, placing the wealthy in a more precarious moral position.

And yet, the world has been created entirely for human beings. As long as one does not lose sight of their divine purpose, they may rightly possess all that the world contains. In this sense, wealth is not inherently corrupting—it is, in fact, a divine blessing, a manifestation of Allah’s grace (faḍl).

Perhaps most notably, the Qur’an uses the word qiyām in reference to wealth:

“Do not entrust your wealth—which Allah has made for you as a means of stability and uprightness (qiyām)—to those who would misuse it.” (Nisa / 5)

The term qiyām implies both rising up and remaining upright. In other words:
→ If you have fallen, you cannot stand up again without worldly means;
→ And if you are standing, you cannot remain so without the sustaining power of wealth.

Thus, the central issue is not wealth itself, but how it is earned—and whether one is capable of governing it ethically once acquired.

In short: it is the rich who build the world—and it is the rich who ruin it.

Yes, but that’s not enough

I don’t think anyone would object to these assessments. But we cannot simply state, “Those who build the world and those who ruin it are both the rich,” and leave the matter there. Nor can we be content with delivering lofty moral exhortations about how wealth ought to be used and for what ends. Especially in the modern world—where vast ideologies and powerful sociological and political concepts have been built around wealth and class—while disorder runs rampant, we cannot go on cloaking the issue in embellished moral rhetoric, as if singing songs in a graveyard while the world falls apart.

Had we not done exactly that, the Islamic world today would possess a rich body of literature investigating the question: Who, precisely, are the wealthy who are ruining the world?

As it stands, forget any such literature—there is barely a stir, save for a few works that never manage to move beyond ornate language about what zakat is and how it ought to be given. Professor Faruk Beşer describes capitalists as decadent affluents, but not a single soul steps forward to ask whether this description actually holds true. It is as if a strange and inexplicable consensus has taken hold, declaring that the Qur’an’s discourse on wealth must never be seriously examined.

And yet we all know people who perfectly fit the definition of the decadent affluent: those who deny their workers fair wages and basic rights, yet still describe themselves as “Muslim,” even claim to be “conservative.” Are such people included in the category of “capitalists” to which the professor refers so broadly? No one asks. No one investigates. The Muslim intellectual world, including its academia, lies in a deep stupor—unable to lift its head from a kind of wintry sleep, even beneath the scorching heat of the desert. That’s one issue.

Secondly, the theologian’s task is relatively easy. Speaking, justifiably, from a position of moral authority, he sees no harm in bundling together many disparate matters into a single argument. But once you try to discern the actual complexities of what’s going on, everything is suddenly shrouded in dust and smoke. Certain difficulties emerge that cloud your vision. You can’t see anything clearly…

Take capitalism, for instance—which, let us recall, came long after all the revealed religions. With its emergence, the very meanings of “wealth” and “accumulation” were radically and fundamentally transformed. Of course, money and commercial capital preexisted capitalism. But paper currency, the industrial bourgeoisie, and an entirely interest-based financial system—all these appeared in history only with capitalism. And if you are living within this system, your wealth is inevitably tied to its logic. You may deceive yourself into thinking you’ve escaped it by building a pseudo-parallel subsystem, but no one else—least of all those who rule the system—will believe you.

So within such a framework, what exactly do we mean when we speak of wealth and the wealthy? For example, are financial-capital entities that have entirely withdrawn from production and become bloated through mere speculation on money included in this category? We don’t know. We don’t understand. And in failing to understand, we inevitably become believers without comprehension.

Let there be no misunderstanding: the issue at hand is not whether Islam approves or disapproves of wealth. The real mistake lies in confining ourselves to such a binary. The questions we truly need to start asking, writing about, and discussing are these: What is happening to the Muslim world under capitalism? How is this transformation affecting our faith? And what must be done in response?

Unfortunately, Muslim thinkers—and academics in particular, including theologians—are not doing their part. They take the easy route. They are complacent. This is what I am truly trying to say.

That is why, for my part, I prefer not to speak in terms like, “The Qur’an permits wealth and the wealthy, but on the condition that…” Instead, I choose to speak through the lens of values that express the encompassing spirit of Islam—such as infāq (charitable giving) and contentment. So as not to become one of those who believe without understanding, or one of the silent who do not question, I at least try to remain within the intellectual circles I believe in and know relatively well.

And I console myself with the hope that—should it happen while I am still alive—if serious reflection and academic research one day emerge on the structure of social classes and consumption patterns in the Muslim world, then perhaps I might write about the psychologies that underlie them.