With a Little Help From My ‘Friends’

Throughout history, great powers have mastered the art of controlling nations without conquest. The strategy is elegant in its simplicity: first, secure influence through financial incentives—mining rights in Ghana, oil fields in Syria, coffee plantations in Nicaragua. When cooperation falters, they activate Plan B. This backup plan never requires boots on the ground. Instead, they fund local insurgents with cash and weapons, train fighters in secondary locations far from scrutiny, and control the narrative through media, painting even questionable groups as freedom fighters. The genius lies in plausible deniability. If the operation fails, there’s no accountability. If it succeeds, a puppet government emerges. Either way, the superpower wins. But what about the people caught in the middle?

Senator John McCain with Syrian rebels

When the Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan in 1979, the world watched as poorly armed Mujahideen guerrillas achieved the impossible—defeating one of two global superpowers. Foreign fighters, primarily from Pakistan and Arab states, joined the cause. Desperate against Soviet brutality, Afghans welcomed every able-bodied volunteer. The strategy worked. By 1989, the Soviets withdrew in defeat, and the Muslim world erupted in celebration. Then came the reckoning. Civil war tore apart the coalition that had fought together. The Taliban emerged victorious in 1996, imposing brutal policies including banning women from education—a direct assault on Islamic values in the name of Islam. The foreign fighters who had “saved” Afghanistan left behind a fractured nation unable to govern itself.

The pattern repeated in Chechnya. Following the Soviet collapse, Chechnya fought for independence from 1992 to 1996. Al-Qaeda operatives, including Saudi national Ibn al-Khattab, joined the fight. Against all odds, Chechnya won independence in 1996, and Muslims worldwide celebrated again. Surely these Islamist groups would help build a functioning state? Ibn al-Khattab had other plans. Rather than governance, he established terrorist training centers throughout the Caucasus. Internal fighting consumed the next two years. Enter Vladimir Putin. In 1999, Russia’s new Prime Minister launched a second war. This time, Chechnya was crushed and reintegrated into Russia. The brief taste of freedom—made possible partly by foreign fighters—ultimately cost Chechens their independence entirely.

Gaza presents the most recent example. In 2005, Hamas defeated the internationally-backed Fatah in democratic elections. Despite being militant and isolated, Hamas represented change, and Palestinians voted for hope. Muslims celebrated another Islamist victory. What followed was fratricidal nightmare. Instead of uniting against the threat on their borders, Hamas and Fatah plunged into civil war. Hamas assassinated Fatah members and supporters, imprisoned dissenters, and subjected questioners to torture. Most shocking, Hamas forces shot Palestinian civilians attempting to collect humanitarian aid. The pattern repeated: initial victory, followed by devastating internal conflict that harmed civilians more than the external enemy ever had.

A Familiar Story: Infighting in Afghanistan, Chechnya, Gaza

The uncomfortable truth is this: since the 1990s, when Islamist foreign fighters join liberation movements in Muslim states, they consistently cause more damage to civilians than the non-Muslim oppressors they claimed to fight. Why does this happen? Young men who become foreign fighters are fanatical soldiers but terrible rulers. Their skills lie in combat, their mindset in martyrdom. They actively seek conflict rather than stability, lack administrative capacity to govern, refuse to yield power to civilian leadership, thrive in chaos instead of peace, and transform victories into warlord fiefdoms. Numbers feel reassuring during desperate struggles, but history screams a warning: the cost of foreign fighter assistance far exceeds any temporary military advantage.

Muslim nations will continue facing moments when populations demand change from entrenched rulers. This is natural in the transition toward effective governance, but success requires learning from past mistakes. When removing an overstaying leader, the process must prioritize legal mechanisms whenever possible, ensure leadership succession is planned before transition begins, use military force sparingly and under civilian oversight, accept financial assistance cautiously favoring humanitarian aid over weapons, and establish one firm red line: no foreign fighters under any circumstances. Foreign fighters transform homelands into mercenary playgrounds. What begins as “assistance” evolves into competing warlord factions fighting for territory, extended conflict long after the original grievance, state collapse as seen in Afghanistan and Somalia, international intervention with strings attached, and lost sovereignty as external powers claim stakes. The principle is simple: if change cannot be achieved by the local population using primarily local resources, then the change is not truly yours. Victory obtained through foreign military intervention becomes a hollow achievement—you trade one master for another.

External powers have long manipulated Muslim nations by funding insurgencies and backing armed groups. This strategy works because we allow it to work. By accepting foreign fighters, we invite external interests to dictate our futures. Mastering self-determination means accepting that genuine change takes longer without foreign assistance, understanding that harder-won victories are more sustainable, recognizing that civilian casualties from internal conflict destroy the legitimacy of any cause, building administrative capacity alongside military resistance, and planning for governance before achieving military victory. Every liberation movement faces a critical decision point: accept foreign fighters and boost numbers immediately, or reject them and fight with only local support. History has rendered its verdict. The short-term gain of foreign fighters leads to long-term catastrophe. The initial victory celebrations ring hollow when civil war follows. The young martyrs who helped win freedom become the warlords who destroy it.

If the Ummah embraces this lesson, we achieve two crucial victories: we neutralize the external power strategy of controlling us through funded insurgencies, and we guarantee that our change is authentically ours—built by local people, for local people, with local legitimacy. The path is harder. The timeline is longer. The sacrifice is greater. But the outcome is ours to keep.

Afghanistan, Chechnya, and Gaza teach the same painful lesson: foreign assistance in liberation struggles comes with a price tag that compounds over decades. The Afghans, Chechens, and Palestinians are worse off today than before their “victories.” The question is not whether Muslim nations will face internal struggles for reform and justice—they will. The question is whether we’ll repeat the mistakes of the past, or finally internalize the lesson written in blood across multiple continents. True liberation cannot be outsourced. Freedom fighters who understand governance, who plan for peace as carefully as for war, who prioritize civilian protection over martyrdom—these are the forces that build lasting change. Reject the foreign fighters. Accept the longer road. Own your destiny. Only then will victory mean something more than a temporary celebration before the next tragedy.

Three is a Magic Number

The traditional view is clear: a woman’s place is at home, nurturing children, managing the household. Religion reinforces this. Culture celebrates it. But what if this narrow path isn’t just limiting—what if it’s holding back entire communities? The question isn’t whether women should stay home. It’s whether confining them to only that role serves anyone well. I propose a different model: the Triangle—three interconnected pillars that create thriving individuals, strong families, and healthy societies.

Since the US withdrawal from Afghanistan in 2021, something troubling has emerged in Muslim discourse: Taliban apologia. I’ve witnessed it firsthand. After Jummah prayer, an elderly man praised the Taliban for bringing the “correct system” to Afghanistan. Yet I guarantee he would never send his granddaughter—whom he cherishes—to live under that system. She attends school here in the USA, reaping the benefits of education he denies Afghan girls deserve. Social media amplifies this hypocrisy. Influencers post dreamy reels from Afghanistan: a man silhouetted against a sunset, peaceful music playing. “Look how serene it is,” they caption. When confronted about girls being banned from schools, they defend it as “Islamic.” Yet these same influencers would run through hell with a gasoline can before sending their daughters or sisters to Afghanistan. This double standard reveals the truth: they know education matters.

The Islamist paradise we dream of?

The real danger isn’t just Taliban policy in Afghanistan—it’s that this thinking can metastasize. What starts as praise for a distant regime can become ideology at home. We must be clear: denying girls education robs them of agency, opportunity, and the tools to improve their lives. The solution isn’t radical. Girls-only schools, staffed entirely by women, can satisfy cultural concerns while delivering results. The non-negotiable standard: every girl completes education equivalent to a high school diploma by age eighteen. No exceptions.

The data is unambiguous: children raised by married parents have better outcomes across virtually every metric. This isn’t about moral judgment—it’s about practical reality. Raising a family demands discipline, partnership, and planning. It transforms both men and women into functional, contributing members of society. Children born outside of marriage face steeper odds: boys are more likely to join gangs and end up incarcerated; girls are more likely to become teenage mothers themselves, perpetuating a cycle. Here, Muslim communities are succeeding. As of 2024, children born to unmarried Muslim mothers are statistically negligible. Even when single-parent households exist, they typically result from divorce or a partner’s death—not from never having married. This pillar is secure. We’ve nailed it.

Here’s the controversial one: every Muslim woman should pursue a career—even if she’s not financially obligated to work. Yes, every woman. The one living in a village in Peshawar. The one married to a billionaire sheikh in Qatar. The one whose husband earns enough for ten families. Why? Because a career exposes women to the world beyond their walls. That world shapes politics, economics, education, technology—forces that will inevitably affect their children, their lifestyle, their future. Better to have a direct view of how that world operates than to be blindsided by changes you never saw coming.

“But who will manage the household?” you ask. The answer emerged from an unlikely source: COVID-19. The pandemic normalized remote work. What began as an emergency measure has become permanent infrastructure. Millions of jobs—especially in technology, education, marketing, and professional services—now offer remote options. This isn’t a temporary accommodation; it’s the new normal, and it’s still expanding. This is the sweet spot for Muslim women: careers that align with their interests and values, performed from home. They can monitor their children’s development, manage the household, and participate meaningfully in the economy. Technology roles often pay well, offering financial benefits alongside intellectual engagement. Two birds, one stone.

Triangle for Muslim Women: Education, Career and Family

When all three pillars align—education, stable marriage, and career—a triangle forms. Geometry teaches us that triangles are the strongest structures. The same principle applies here. The tragedy is that most Muslim societies hit two out of three: education and marriage but no career (the traditional model); marriage and career but delayed or inadequate education; or education and career but instability in family structure (rare, but growing in some Western contexts). Two-thirds isn’t enough. An incomplete triangle collapses.

This isn’t about abandoning tradition—it’s about fulfilling it more completely. Islam doesn’t forbid women’s education; ignorance does. Islam doesn’t prohibit women’s professional contributions; rigid cultural interpretations do. The question isn’t whether Muslim women can achieve all three pillars. It’s whether we’ll create the conditions that allow them to. The framework exists. The technology enables it. The only thing missing is will. Can Muslim women complete the triangle? The better question: will we let them?