71221- Cover, page 2 @ Preflight


The Dilemmas of Islamic Bioethics in the 
Twenty-first Century: “Being a Stranger 

in a Strange land”
(Or: Procrustes1 “Islamized”)

Dr. Anke Iman Bouzenita

Abstract

The current discourse on bioethical questions often reveals a 
certain patchiness or seeming inability to answer contemporary 
bioethical problems within an Islamic epistemological para-
digm. Attempting to analyze the causes of this phenomenon, 
the author describes the decontextualization of Islamic concepts 
from a background of secularized medical care and the ethics 
in the Islamic world—as well as the estrangement due to these 
questions of Islamic law from its holistic framework of applica-
tion as a pervasive phenomenon, which brought about the di-
lemmas of bioethics in the twenty-first century. The author dis-
cusses chosen bioethical case studies in this light, with a focus 
on the concept of brain death. Doing so, the author takes into 
consideration the paradigmatic relationship between science, 
bioethical models, and the implications of the relevant different 
worldviews.
 
The author shows how constructed realities related to the life 
sciences have been imported from the secular setting into an 

________________________________________________________________________
Dr. Anke Iman Bouzenita is currently Associate Professor in the Department of Fiqh and 
Usul al-Fiqh, at The International Islamic University, Malaysia. She obtained her M.A. 
and Ph.D. degrees from the University of Bochum (Ruhr-Universität Bochum), Germany, 
in Islamic Studies and Oriental Philology. Her research interests include Islamic views on 
bioethics, international relations, and orientalism. Professor Bouzenita may be contacted at 
bouzenita@iium.edu.my.



The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 28:146

already estranged Islamic context to be answered, and describes 
the evolving dilemmas that make Islamic bioethics appear like a 
stranger moving in a strange land.

Introduction
Islamic bioethical views in a contemporary context seem to be caught in 
between two systems: the globally proliferated secular Western medical 
system that brought about most of the critical questions and ethical prob-
lems (stem cell research, brain death, organ transplantation, to name but 
a few), which need to be answered and which may also claim to have a 
universal ethical approach—and the Islamic legal system with its ethical 
concepts, which are themselves an expression of a particular worldview. 
At the interface of these different worldviews and systems, Muslim medics 
and scientists as well as scholars of fiqh are rather reacting and accommo-
dating than proactively generating their own approach.2 These reactions 
are a fertile ground for what I have come to call in this paper the “dilemmas 
of Islamic bioethics in the twentieth-first century.”

After necessary preliminary remarks on the relationship between Is-
lam, science, and bioethics, the objectivity of science, and the implications 
of different worldviews (or ideologies) on the life sciences—I discuss bio-
ethics and their different strata. I outline the special features of an Islamic 
model of bioethics and deliberate on the possibility of a universal model 
of bioethics.

I then attempt to clarify what I describe as the “imported dilemma,” 
meaning the decontextualization of bioethics—more particularly in the Is-
lamic world, through its secularized (medical) institutions and its profes-
sional ethics, which are detached from Islamic culture. Research rationales, 
techniques, and questions often emerge from a secular, Western biomedical 
model and are then imported to an Islamic bioethical setting, where they 
may bring about ethical estrangement. I will discuss practical questions 
that have emerged from this decontextualization.

The section of this article on the “legal stranger” focuses on the treat-
ment of these imported questions by contemporary fuqahÉ’ (scholars of 
Islamic law), and the problems involved. The concept of brain death and 
the related Islamic legal discussion serve as a case study to analyze the 
characteristics of contemporary fiqh (Islamic law) in bioethical questions.



47The Dilemmas of Islamic Bioethics in the Twenty-first Century

Science and Bioethics in Relation to Worldviews
In contrast to the history of Islamic civilization, where the position of sci-
ence seems never to have been seen as a challenge to the tenets of the 
Islamic faith, it is rather in the wake of modernity that questions of the 
neutrality or ideology of science have been raised with regard to the human 
sciences as well as the natural and life sciences. This question is particular-
ly important with regard to positioning the new developments in biotech-
nology vis-à-vis Islam. It has been frequently mentioned in the academic 
discourses that science is done in a social construct, and that this has an 
impact on the research funding, the research questions, the evaluation of 
research outcomes and their usage—as well as scientific authority.3

The twentieth century has seen fervent discussions concerning the 
ideology that supports the sciences—including its historical and political 
background. Those who have lived in the present era have witnessed the 
dissemination of modern science in a capitalist secular garb; this has been 
experienced by many people as the consequence of a structural, intellec-
tual, and institutional dependence rooted in colonialism, and this is a politi-
cal reality that exists in large areas of the world—areas often labeled as a 
part of “the third world.”

The main arguments forwarded in the inner Islamic discourse with re-
gard to the evaluation of science are either that science is ideologically 
bound and that there is “no divorce of science from values, and never has 
been,”4 or that science is neutral and value free.5 

Classical Muslim scholars have put forward several classifications of 
the sciences or knowledge (Ñilm). For the purpose of this paper, I con-
sider the ideas of the eminent historian and polymath Ibn Khaldun (d. 808 
AH /1406 CE), who explained the distinction between rational (ÑaqlÊ) sci-
ences and transmitted (naqlÊ) sciences: “Whereas the human being arrives 
at the rational sciences through his thinking and realization of reality, the 
transmitted sciences have been laid down by the Lawgiver (Allah) and are 
therefore not subject to human ratiocination.”6 Ibn Khaldun describes the 
rational or natural sciences as shared among nations, while the transmit-
ted sciences are specific for the Islamic ummah.7 We may understand that 
Ibn Khaldun used the reference to the Islamic ummah as an example, im-
plicitly stating that other nations may have their own specific transmitted 
sciences.8

Rational sciences—for example, mathematics, chemistry, physics, and 
engineering—fall under a type of knowledge that is basically universal. 
Its usage comes under the general permission of things, unless there is an 



The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 28:148

evidence in the Qur’an or Sunnah prohibiting them (Al-aṣlu fī l-ashyā’ al-
ibāḥah mā lam yarid dalīl al-taḥrīm). However, the way to interpret these 
findings, as well as the way to use this knowledge, is very much linked 
to an underlying worldview and may therefore be socially and politically 
constructed. While a Muslim will link the usage of knowledge of any kind 
to the Islamic evaluation by the legal rule (al-ḥukm al-shar‘ī)—atheists, 
utilitarians, and others will link it to their particular concepts about and un-
derstandings of life. In other words, the ideologically bound evaluation, ac-
cess, and way of usage of this universal type of science cannot be accepted 
based on a general assumption of its neutrality. It is at this stage that a type 
of ideologically bound and socially constructed knowledge comes to bear. 

For the Islamic context, the transmitted sciences, the sciences of Qur’an 
and Hadith, Fiqh, and UÎËl al-Fiqh (the theoretical foundations of Islamic 
law), are clearly an expression of the Islamic worldview. All the same, oth-
er worldviews have produced their very own scientific expressions. Most 
of what has been referenced today as human sciences is an expression of 
a Western capitalist culture and worldview—or, to a limited extent today, 
a Marxist weltanschauung. Here, it is the Hadith of the Prophet (pbuh), 
which needs to be the basis of evaluation: “Whoever introduces into our 
dÊn (way of life) that which does not belong to it, will have it returned (i.e. 
it will not be accepted).”9

With regard to the life sciences, H. Tristam Engelhardt suggests  that 
“symptoms,signs, pains, deformities, illnesses, diseases, even the body and 
well-being, appear within a nest of descriptive, evaluative, explanatory, 
and social expectations.”10 A lot of related knowledge and its usage comes 
under a socially constructed interpretation and needs to be questioned and 
scrutinized from an Islamic point of view. Engelhardt describes how certain 
social phenomena were being seen as medical problems—subject to medi-
cal research and given medical treatment—for example, an intervention for 
female hysteria (“successfully treated” by a clitoridectomy), or a person’s 
homosexuality, which needs to be responded to in terms of medical treat-
ment until the socially constructed context of interpretation changed.11    

Different therapeutic models may have been generated and contex-
tualized in divergent worldviews, and in turn, have generated their own 
professional and social ethics—ethics such as those of the practitioners of 
the Hippocratic tradition with its reliance on humors; traditional Chinese 
medicine with the principles of chi, yin, and yang; Ayurveda with its idea 
of three forces of kapha, pitta, and vata; or Rudolf Steiner’s anthroposophi-
cal medicine.12 The Hippocratic Oath, which is still being used in the medi-



49The Dilemmas of Islamic Bioethics in the Twenty-first Century

cal profession—and also an Islamized version for Muslim medics—has 
been attributed as “a kind of timeless, all-purpose ethic for physicians and 
other health professionals,” although it is “only one among many possible 
ethics for medicine.”13

Western medicine is often perceived as organized by a highly special-
ized, dehumanizing technologically based model. The hype for “alterna-
tive medicine” in the West—a diverse movement inspired by and parts of 
which are modeled on healing practices whose origin and home is outside 
of the West, practices such as acupuncture and homeopathy—may be ex-
plained as a reaction to a system that seems to have lost a commitment to 
the patient as a person. Tragically, these holistic alternatives have often 
been adapted into the existing system without changing its tenets or the 
mindset of the majority of its practitioners.

Different Worldviews and Their Implications
As I have shown in the preceding section, the main differences between 
Western secular and Islamic bioethics are linked to their underlying world-
views. Capitalist concepts of life, which stand for an overemphasis on 
materialism, are apt to turn into both hedonism and exploitation. Happi-
ness is defined as the accumulation of ever-increasing material assets and 
the satisfaction of artificial needs. Globalization is the latest version of the 
proliferation of this politico-economic model, which had already started 
in the wake of colonization.14 Illness is perceived as a malfunction, and 
death as the major obstacle to enjoying the world’s material pleasures.15 
Commodification is a pervasive motif of this model with a major impact 
on bioethics—sometimes involving exorbitant fees for medical treatment 
and medication, procedures for  maximizing health-care systems,16 and the 
copyright and patenting of medication and genetic information—are all ef-
fects or side effects of the intellectual foundations of this system.17

The Islamic model, on the other hand, is based on the uncompromised 
concept of the oneness (tawÍÊd) of Allah, the Creator and Sustainer, and 
of His creation’s servitude to anything or anyone but Him. Whereas the 
beginning and end of life are at His discretion, the human being is asked to 
pursue the treatment of the ill. Illness and health have their own metaphysi-
cal functions. As a holistic lifestyle, many Islamic rules—such as those re-
lated to hygiene, moderation in food, the prohibition of harmful substances 
and sexual relations outside of wedlock—constitute a system to prevent 
illness. Happiness is defined as achieving the Creator’s reward; anything 
acceptable is directed toward Him. This worldly life is only a passage, a 



The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 28:150

test for the ultimate reward or punishment—hence, the need to abide by the 
Islamic legal rule.

Islam, Ethics and the Life Sciences
The term bioethics is generally understood as a set of ethical con-
siderations (philosophical, theological, social, and legal) with regard 
to the development or usage of techniques and cures in the field of 
medicine and the life sciences.18 This “branch of applied ethics”19 
emerged as a distinct field of study in the 1960s in the United States. 
This development was triggered by novel moral questions, rapid ad-
vancement of the medical sciences, research, biotechnological inno-
vations, and characteristics of American society as shaped by Anglo-
European thought and traditions. Larger social events, like the civil 
rights movement, feminism, and the growing distrust in medical pro-
fessional authority have played a pivotal role.20

With the immense advancements in the life sciences in the last de-
cades, bioethics seems to have become as important and prominent as the 
hard core sciences. The emphasis on bioethics has given new importance to 
specialists in human sciences, mainly philosophy. In an attempt to bridge 
the gap between secularized research and the practice of the life sciences 
and the upcoming ethical dilemma—chairs and committees involving bio-
ethicists have been created.21

While bioethics may be said to be as old as the life sciences themselves, 
the public and academic bioethical discourse worldwide is as diversified as 
the philosophical, ideological, and professional background of those who 
are involved.22 Different strata of bioethics involve academic bioethics, 
public policy, law bioethics, and clinical ethics—and we also have to con-
sider the individual, professional, and communal strata that contribute to 
the diversity.23 Bioethics is concerned with key questions of human exis-
tence. Not surprisingly—standing at the interface of a multitude of cultural 
and religious perceptions on health, illness, life, reproduction, and death—
it has a lot of potential for diversity, and it may be said to be as diverse as 
the metaethical systems it refers to.

In the Islamic context, the usage of the term ethics (akhlÉq) and its 
scope and place within Islamic culture and civilization may require some 
explanation. Where are ethics to be placed in the history of Islamic thought, 
and what may be understood by Islamic bioethics? “Islamic ethics as a dis-
cipline or a subject does not exist at the present,” stated Abdul Haq Ansari 
in 1989.24 It is correct that there is no—and never has been—an indepen-



51The Dilemmas of Islamic Bioethics in the Twenty-first Century

dent branch of ethics among the Islamic sciences. Rather, ethical consid-
erations have been treated as contextualized in treatises on philosophy, 
theology, law, Sufism, politics, economics, and the different professions. 
Different ethical traditions—such as the theological, philosophical (Neo-
Platonic) and the Sufi tradition—have been named.25 It seems that scholars 
of the past did not see any need for an independent branch or science of 
ethics because ethical values had been holistically incorporated in all the 
different strata of life and thought.26 Based on the comprehensiveness of 
the Islamic legal rule on any activity of life, vital questions of medical 
treatment and the life sciences have from the earliest times been of inter-
est to Islamic legal scholars (the FuqahÉ’). The observer of the history of 
what we may refer to as medical ethics” in the Islamic context will find that 
rules, regulations, and general manners in the relationship between doctor 
and patient—for instance, are to be found within the legal compendia and 
the professional adab literature. In the same way, we may find professional 
ethics related to other professions. The term adab, as al-Jurjani (d. 474 AH/ 
1081 CE) defined it, means “the knowledge of what saves one from all 
mistakes.”27 Therefore, adab literature often reads like a manual of refined 
professional behavior.

Islamic medical professional ethics, which we do understand as a 
branch of bioethics, is well documented. Under the title Al-akhlÉq al-Ïib-
biyyah or Adab al-ÏabÊb, Islamic culture has produced a number of literary 
works.28 Al-Rahawi’s KitÉb Adab al-ÙabÊb, which dates to the third cen-
tury, is considered the first Muslim treatise dedicated to medical ethics and 
covers a multitude of aspects with regard to the medical profession.29 

Adab literature is an expression of professional ethics at a time when 
Islamic thought and civilization was firmly established in all branches of 
life and had already gone through a process of incorporation of the preced-
ing cultures and their knowledge. The KitÉb Adab al-ÙabÊb is an important 
document testifying to this era, but does in no way stand alone. Contempo-
rary contributions to Islamic professional medical ethics stand very much 
in this tradition and refer to it—without, however, discussing the paradigm 
shift from an Islamic to a secularized society that impacts on the practice 
of medicine.30

It is necessary to reflect on why classical Islamic literature does not of-
fer a terminological equivalent to our modern term bioethics. Perhaps, be-
cause the larger framework enabled a holistic integration of bioethics, there 
was no necessity in discussing it separately. It may be sufficient to mention 
that related questions today are often treated under “contemporary issues in 



The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 28:152

fiqh” (qaÌÉyÉ fiqhiyyah muÑÉÎirah, al-fiqh al-muÑÉÎir) to further illuminate 
the importance of fiqh for the field. The term al-fiqh al-ÏibbÊ (medical fiqh) 
seems still to be preferred over the ethical (akhlÉqÊ) component.31

It seems that most of the contributions discuss a main difference between 
the different (that is, Western secular and Islamic) bioethical approaches as 
being a focus on individualism rather than on the community—and the em-
phasis on rights rather than duties and obligations, respectively. Although 
differences vis-à-vis individualism do exist, it does not seem to be the main 
cause accounting for the dilemmas of Islamic bioethics today.32

The Key to Understand Islamic Bioethics  
Is there a particularly Islamic bioethics then? This question may, without 
doubt, be answered in the affirmative. If we are to understand bioethics 
as those rules, regulations, and deliberations concerning the research and 
practical application of the life sciences, there is, naturally, a set of Islamic 
rules derived from the sources of Islamic law governing all these actions 
and in all of the described strata. As an Islamic model of bioethics, we 
may therefore describe the set of Islamic legal rules and their application 
in actions and questions related to the life sciences. On a metalevel, these 
actions are guided and decided on the basis of the sources of Shar‘iah.

It follows from the preceding deliberations that the Islamic model of 
bioethics is, first and foremost bound by the injunctions of Islamic law 
(fiqh). In contrast to the life sciences themselves, this bioethical model—
as being made up of Islamic legal rules—is derived from the sources of 
revelation: the Qur’an and the Sunnah. In addition,  revelation guides to 
IjmÉÑ(consensus), QiyÉs (analogy), and the secondary sources—subject to 
their acceptance or nonacceptance by the respective UÎËlÊ scholars. Just 
like fiqh itself, these sources involve definitive (qaÏÑÊ) and nondefinitive 
(ÐannÊ) legal rules—the latter being subject to differences of specialist 
scholarly opinion and are guided by a number of legal principles (qawÉÑid 
fiqhiyyah).

The famous discussion under the title of “al-taḥsīn wa l-taqbīḥ al-
Ñaqliyain” (to declare something as good or bad by reason) illuminates 
an important link between ethical considerations and the law, which is of 
interest to our formulation of Islamic bioethics.33 

With regard to ethics, we may conclude from the majority Ash’ariyyah 
view that human beings are not able to define their ethics without any refer-
ence to the texts of revelation. Whatever we refer to as ethical or unethical 
on Islamic grounds needs to be backed up by evidence in the Islamic texts, 



53The Dilemmas of Islamic Bioethics in the Twenty-first Century

the Qur’an, and the Sunnah. It should also be pointed out that ethical val-
ues as such—like saying the truth, abiding by the given word, and helping 
those in need—are not self-subsistent because they are never separated 
from actions.

The discussion of a bifurcation between law and ethics, or the possibil-
ity of actions being legally correct but unacceptable ethically (which, in the 
Western context, gave rise to the formulation of natural law theories)—is 
rather characteristic of a non-Islamic background. On the basis of the pre-
ceding explanations, ethics and law cannot be separated—and there is no 
ethical evaluation of actions other than by law.34

It has been stated above that the ethical value itself needs to be evi-
denced in a text (naÎÎ)—that is, in the Qur’an or Sunnah—and that it needs 
to be contextualized by an action. This statement has two implications. 
First, according to the majority (AshÑarÊ) position which I am presenting 
here, human beings do not judge about the ethical or unethical factor in 
something based on their own mind. Rather, they are in need of revelation 
to guide them. Second, what may be referred to as ethical in other cultures 
is not necessarily ethical from an Islamic point of view, and even if there 
are a lot of similar ethical concepts to be found in a number of different cul-
tures—especially those comprised of monotheistic religions as compared 
to the Islamic one—they can only have validity if they are evidenced on an 
Islamic basis in their own right. 

Universal Model of Bioethics?
Given the intimate relationship between law and ethics, can Muslims sub-
scribe to a universal code of ethics? The claim for universality in ethics 
goes hand in hand with the postmodern call for ethical relativism. Models 
claiming universality can rather be seen to have originated in a very par-
ticular cultural setting and to have been disseminated with the political 
hegemony of a particular culture. Speaking today about universal bioethics 
is like speaking about the Western coinage of secular bioethics, which have 
been institutionalized and disseminated with the institution of medicine.35 

In her narrative bioethical approach, Farhat Moazam describes how 
bioethics of an American color, particularly the Beauchamp-Childress 
approach, came to be taught in Pakistani medical institutions and other 
institutions around the world.36 This model especially has been hailed as 
one allowing for intercultural or cross-cultural validity.37 The principles of 
autonomy, nonmaleficence, beneficence, and justice, however, are so gen-



The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 28:154

erally formulated that they are still in need of a metaethical system to refer 
to for clarification.38 To suppose that Islamic, Roman Catholic, feminist, 
Hindu, and secular capitalist interpretations of these four principles can 
possibly be the same is unrealistic and negates the fundamental differences 
between the different approaches. The question of whether or not patients 
have the autonomy to determine whether or not their organs may be do-
nated after death—or, the definition of the beginning or end of life, and 
about the commodification of  embryonic stem cells—will find very dif-
ferent answers within these different backgrounds. What is deemed to be 
ethical or unethical may differ tremendously from culture to culture, from 
background to background. In a secular capitalist environment, the recom-
mendation to abort a Mongoloid fetus, even in a very late phase of preg-
nancy, may seem “ethically justifiable” because it “alleviates the mother 
(and society) of the unbearable burden to take care of this child.” Abortion 
on the grounds of this psychological pressure is still commonplace in many 
industrialized countries. From an Islamic perspective, abortion in such a 
late phase would be justifiable only if the mother’s life is materially and 
feasibly endangered, not on grounds of any fetal malformation.39 Can there 
be a universal approach reconciling both views?

The idea of a plural or pluralist society generating a bioethical model 
acceptable to all is misleading in that the existence of diverse groups under 
the tenets of one (here: secular) society does not affect the (here: secular) 
norms by which they interact. Engelhardt emphasizes the importance of 
generating a secular bioethical model so as to find a common denomina-
tor—a shared framework of interaction, a moral lingua franca, allowing the 
secular framework to bind the larger community in the sense of a “proce-
dural morality binding moral strangers.”40 The attempt of creating such a 
universal in the sense of a secular model of bioethics is in itself utilitarian 
in nature. The Western coinage of bioethics, albeit the claim to universality, 
has often been criticized.41

On this basis, the blind subscription to an ethical catalogue set up on 
any other than on an Islamic basis is not recommended, and its contents 
would need to be subjected to scrutiny in detail. On a metaethical basis—
that is, reflecting the nature, origin, and source of ethics—and from an 
Islamic perspective, we must clearly state that ethics originate in the Cre-
ator’s communication to humankind. Even if the human mind is able to 
develop basic ethical concepts based on the inclinations of the natural state 
it was created in, this human being cannot be left alone in defining what is 
ethical or good and what is unethical or bad. 



55The Dilemmas of Islamic Bioethics in the Twenty-first Century

In the contemporary context and in the absence of clear ethical guide-
lines, the term bioethics seems to stand rather for an attempt to devise me-
taethics. The establishment of ethics committees, the introduction of ethics 
courses in the life sciences, and the participation of the humanities (par-
ticularly philosophy) may account for a desire to arrive at a collectively ac-
ceptable common ethical denominator.42 These attempts may also be seen 
as an indicator that the most fundamental questions of life and death have 
not found clarification in the Western secular setting yet.43 The plethora of 
various, often competing ethical models and methods44 may be referred to 
in order to support this idea. 

Contextualized Islamic bioethics—that is, Islamic evaluations of ques-
tions related to the life sciences within an Islamic reference system—where 
science takes place in and is shaped within the framework of an Islamic 
society, with its own foundations and systems—would not be subject to 
the existing dilemmas. However, in the contemporary context, there is a 
holistic application of the Islamic way of life. In the wake of seculariza-
tion, Islam has become a matter of ritual—while the political, economic, 
and educational systems in the Islamic world are generally imported and 
alien to Islamic concepts. Regarding the essential questions of human life, 
this seems to be particularly true for the medical care and the life sciences. 
It is therefore correct to consider the dilemmas of Islamic bioethics as an 
archetype for the overall dilemmas of the Islamic world today. The public 
discourse in the Islamic world is still characterized by the paradigm of 
reacting, either positively or negatively, to what has been developed in a 
different framework, instead of implementing an innate Islamic model.

The dilemma of Islamic bioethics in the twenty-first century emerges 
from this unlucky constellation and may be described on two levels: First, 
Islamic bioethics—contextualized in an Islamic value framework—are ex-
pected to find answers and solve problems that result from the biomedical 
setting of a different worldview; in other words, it has to deal with decon-
textualized, imported questions, and the answers will necessarily appear 
estranged and patchy. Second, being intimately linked to Islamic law, it 
shares the overall dilemma of fiqh and fuqahÉ’ in a de-Islamized world. 

Decontextualization 1.0—The Imported Dilemma 
I have mentioned above that one of the dilemmas of Islamic bioethics is 
that bioethical problems are imported; that is, they have come about in the 
context of a different worldview than the Islamic one and have then been 
imported into the Islamic world or the Islamic paradigm via the prolifera-



The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 28:156

tion of a non-Islamic, secular capitalist model of science. A minor dilemma 
to be discussed in this context is the one faced by Muslim individuals and 
communities in a majority non-Islamic setting.

Bioethics permeates several strata—an individual stratum and a pro-
fessional, communal, and a public health care stratum. These strata in any 
setting may function to a large extent as coherent and functioning together 
or as somewhat diverse—with the result of an either smaller or greater 
potential for conflict. In the light of my preceding analysis, one can expect 
even more conflicts at the structural level—an increase of the present con-
flict between the implanted academic, medical systems and their ethics in 
the Islamic world, the personal and communal ethics of Muslim society 
and the broader public ethics.

Depending on different relationships between various players, there 
can be various interfaces of Islam, Muslims, and Islamic bioethics and the 
prevailing secular, Western model of science. Muslims more and more of-
ten find themselves in the setting of a non-Muslim majority society, where 
there may be an obvious need to clarify the own cultural or religious point 
of view with a focus on expressing their views of the contrasts and simi-
larities between the two settings. In the words of H. Tristram Engelhardt, 
this case makes the individual ethics of a patient (or a doctor) appear to be 
as a community of “moral strangers” in opposition to the larger society. 
The other setting, paradoxically, would be the setting of scientific work 
or health care in the contemporary Islamic countries. There also exists a 
difference between negotiating one’s personal behavior as a Muslim in a 
non-Islamic setting and declaring standards other than those developed on 
an Islamic basis as Islamic or Islamically acceptable. This requires some 
clarification.

In regard to the level of the individual, Engelhardt has said that “a pa-
tient is a stranger in a strange land”45—being confronted with the dynam-
ics, procedures, and language of health care professionals in the setting of 
a hospital, without being able to understand the way in which the world he 
or she has been transferred to works. This is true for almost every patient in 
any unfamiliar cultural setting. If cultural or religious differences between 
the individual and the majority society come into play—with patients be-
longing to a Muslim (or other) minority in a Western setting (or any other 
combination), they may also find themselves as “moral strangers.” With 
the aim of facilitating clinical procedures and providing manuals or prim-
ers on Islamic bioethics for clinicians, there are attempts to offer explana-
tions of basic Islamic teachings and Muslims’ cultural sensitivities to the 



57The Dilemmas of Islamic Bioethics in the Twenty-first Century

non-Islamic setting—usually also alluding to the differences in individual 
practices, and the impact on the patients’ cultural and educational back-
grounds.46 These, however, are not my main focus here. It is to be expected 
that Muslim patients in a non-Islamic clinical setting—that is, a clinical 
setting in a majority non-Islamic country, with non-Muslim staff—will 
have a need to have their views on life, death, hygiene, food requirements, 
general etiquette, and medical treatment communicated.  

What may be called a dilemma in this respect, however, is that even 
a Muslim in an Islamic majority country with Muslim medical staff may 
consider himself be like a moral stranger. This is due to the fact that mod-
ern medicine has entered the Islamic world in secular garb, more often 
than not run by medical professionals who have themselves been educated 
in the West (which, here, may also stand for areas of the world normally 
referred to as “the East”: former Soviet or Chinese communist secularism), 
with its own secular professional ethic. The usage of the former colonial 
language in health care (for instance, English in the Subcontinent, French 
in North Africa) indicates and at the same time perpetuates the cultural 
estrangement in this field.47 Typically, the knowledge and awareness of the 
Muslim doctor or researcher on the exigencies of his own din may be lim-
ited, while he may see his own people rather through the secularized lens, 
and their religious convictions rather as an impediment to his work.48

This phenomenon has its roots in colonialism and post-colonialism—
with the accompanying notorious problems of educating the local elite in 
the colonial mother countries, and other challenges such as brain drain. 
The mindset of imitation in paradigms and practice is unbroken and ex-
pands somewhat naturally to the medical and bioethical field. Ibn Khaldun 
described a pervasive phenomenon that is feasible in all walks of life in the 
Islamic world today when he said that the conquered will always follow 
his conqueror in lifestyle, habit and sentiment because he sees in him the 
image of perfection he strives at. A psychological disposition tells him that, 
being conquered himself, he cannot be perfect by definition.49 

While the field of Muslim patient exigencies in a non-Islamic setting 
seems to be well covered,50 little reflection seems to have been made on 
the larger bioethical framework and its paradigms in a majority Muslim 
setting.51

Attempts such as the Kuwait Declaration, or the declarations of pro-
fessional medical ethics by Muslim medical associations (mainly in North 
America) generally do not go beyond the professional stratum. The contri-
butions made to the first and second Islamic International Medical Confer-



The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 28:158

ence in Kuwait in 1981 and 1982 reveal the rich historical heritage of Mus-
lim contributions to diverse fields of medicine—especially their relation to 
the Greek medical heritage and the role of Islamic medicine in the Western 
Renaissance—also show the rootedness of Muslim professional medical 
ethics. However, reflections of the general paradigm change and questions 
of how Islamic medical ethics relate in an imported un-Islamic setting in 
the Islamic world, were generally not made.52 

This stratum of public health policy is vital to set the societal frame-
work for the life sciences and bioethics. It is here that the main dilemma 
of Islamic bioethics is revealed—that is, the lack of an Islamic polity and 
policies. The health care system in the Islamic world used to be embedded 
in the Islamic worldview until the advent of colonialism. Questions of the 
doctors’ and pharmacists’ liabilities and accountability were regulated by 
the Íisbah,53 which may here be referred to a public administration. Public 
health regulations organized hospitals and research on the basis of an Is-
lamic way of life. This entire complex has been taken over by secular insti-
tutions, in which Islamic mechanisms of policy making are not enacted.

What has been described as a “normative plurality” (Moosa) in Islam 
with regard to the different nondefinitive legal rules (ranging from per-
mission to prohibition), which a question may take, would be solved on 
a communal level by the institution of tabannÊ (the binding adaptation of 
one ijtihÉd or legal derivation on a particular question); this aspect of pol-
icy making, where the Islamic authorities lift the difference of opinion for 
the sake of communal unity (amr al-imÉm yarfaÑu al-khilÉf) is frequently 
overseen in discussions on Islamic bioethics. 

The following cases will show that there are different degrees of 
strength with which the dilemma of imported questions is revealed; for 
example, on a very obvious scale, there is the notorious example of using 
non-permissible substances, generally pork or alcohol, in medication or 
treatment. Porcine material is widely used in the Western industrialized 
countries, not only in food stuff—but also in medication—due to the lack 
of religious or cultural inhibitions or even a cultural affinity and its the re-
sulting availability and low price. The resemblance to human cell structure 
and their porcine equivalent organs is also mentioned as a rationalization 
for using porcine material. Skin transplants, heart valves (in xenotrans-
plantation), porcine-based insulin and heparin are some examples of this. 
Comparable to its usage in foods, gelatin is widely used as filling mate-
rial in tablets or capsules. Actually, these usages are culturally conditioned 
rather than indispensable; alternatives may be found—like bovine or hu-
man source insulin, bovine heparin, and gelatin.54



59The Dilemmas of Islamic Bioethics in the Twenty-first Century

Due to the prohibition of pork and because of its being considered im-
pure in Islam, it is very unlikely that these usages would have come about 
in an Islamic setting: Muslim doctors and scientists would have looked for 
other available sources. However, Muslims in majority non-Muslim coun-
tries are regularly exposed to these therapeutic means. The Islamic legal 
rule here may differ, depending on whether or not alternative therapies are 
available. The rule of ÌarËrah (utter necessity) may apply in certain cases 
where alternatives are not at hand.55

The case is different, however, when we talk about importing these 
treatments and medication into the Islamic countries. Here, it is the respon-
sibility of those in charge of the Muslims’ affairs within the area of public 
policy (siyÉsah sharÑiyyah) to curb importation of non-ÍalÉl medication 
and provide a homegrown production or a search for alternatives. This 
aspect in Islamic bioethics is the preliminary condition for laying down 
Islamic health-care guidelines.

It is most intriguing to reflect in which ways medical treatment would 
have developed on the basis of the Islamic worldview, had not the devel-
opmental process been interrupted. It may well be that tissue engineer-
ing—the engineering of human tissues and organs from the patient’s own 
cells—could have started earlier. This is probably the same for procedure-
minimizing, minimal invasive therapies, and a strengthening of preventive 
cures. Given the Islamic prohibition on holding back knowledge (taÍrÊm 
kitmÉn al-Ñilm) the imposition of patenting with all its negative conse-
quences of costs and availability of medication to the masses would be un-
known—with the expectable results on the improvement of world health. 
And research budget would have been allocated differently. 

At first sight, it what would seem that fertilization techniques are not 
as problematic because the relevant procedures may easily be fitted into an 
Islamic context. Most Islamic scholars have ruled that IVF techniques are 
permissible in Islamic law, provided that both male and female donors are 
alive and married at the time of insemination, and no third party (as a sur-
rogate mother, egg or sperm donor) is involved.56 It is rather the setting of 
these procedures that may prove problematic: for example, the surround-
ing questions of what happens to surplus fertilized cells/embryos, donated 
eggs, and sperm. Will they be discarded, “be left to die,” or stored—if so, 
for which purpose? 

Praised by one faction as a source of future remedies for juvenile dia-
betes, Alzheimer’s, spinal cord injuries, and other problems, and criticized 
by conservatives and pro-life activists mainly because of the source of the 



The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 28:160

material—stem cell research is one of the most controversially discussed 
areas of genetic engineering.57 From an Islamic point of view, one of the 
main concerns lies in the origin of the stem cell material. There are various 
sources for human stem cells and the most obvious being bone marrow.58 
Recent research has shown that even adult cells may be re-triggered into 
pluripotent forms. The main argument for the usage of human embryonic 
stem cells (HESC) has always been the pluripotency of these cells and re-
search advantages as compared to adult stem cells. 

As noticeable as is other related legal questions, the contemporary Is-
lamic discourse tends to give a (legal) view of a current contemporary re-
search or scientific practice without scrutinizing the logic of its existence. 
A number of legal verdicts (fatwÉs) do allow the usage of surplus embryos 
for stem cell research, but fatwÉs do not permit the creation of embryos 
for the purpose of stem cell research.59 The formal line of argumentation 
consists in stating that those fertilized cells cannot be considered as human 
life before the decisive in-breathing of the soul (rËÍ) has taken place. Also, 
without an artificial aid or implantation into a woman’s womb, they would 
not survive. Characteristically, the existence of alternative sources for stem 
cells—that is, the usage of adult stem cells taken from bone marrow or 
those available in the umbilical cord, which would ordinarily lead to sup-
port for a ban on the use of embryonic stem cell lines—are not considered 
in most legal verdicts. They also do not expound on the permissibility of 
producing surplus embryos for IVF either, but rather accept this as a given 
reality, following the utilitarian rationale to use what is available.60  

The reason for this surplus is procedural as well as economic; it is to 
ensure the success of the therapy, more than one trial may be needed—in 
other words, it is rooted in a particular scientific culture. Whereas the eth-
ics of using this surplus is commonly discussed—the ethical framework, 
which brought them about generally is not. In the Islamic context, human 
dignity can be claimed for any part of the human body; whereas the gen-
eral overtone of commodification in secular capitalism would rather lead 
to neglecting it.

At an even more visible level stands the complex of anti-ageing re-
search. Anti-ageing research is either directed at improving the quality of 
life at an older age, preventing or facilitating the side effects of ageing—or 
it stands for the attempt at bringing about eternal life in human beings. 
Whereas the first may be Islamically acceptable, subject to the case at 
hand, the second is in clear contradiction to the injunctions of Islamic texts 
(and common sense) and seems to be rather a continuation of alchemy, the 
search for the philosopher’s stone or a scientific translation of the quest for 



61The Dilemmas of Islamic Bioethics in the Twenty-first Century

the Holy Grail. The end of any life on earth is a certainty that which the 
Qur’an testifies to: “Every soul shall taste death” (Surat Āl Imrān: 185), 
and “And if their term (ajal) has expired, they can neither postpone nor 
precipitate it for any period of time.” (Surat Al-A‘rāf: 34). 

Decontextualization 1.1—The Legal Stranger
In view of my previous description of the interconnectedness between Is-
lamic bioethics and Islamic law, it is to be expected that the dilemmas of 
Islamic bioethics in the twenty-first century are to a large extent congruent 
with the dilemmas faced by Islamic law and those representing it.

With the beginning secularization of the Islamic world and the disap-
pearance of the Islamic way of life, the position of fiqh and the fuqahÉ’ 
have changed as well. While the scope of fiqh activity came to be restricted 
to ÑibÉdah (worship) and laws of personal status (marriage and divorce), 
the fringe existence on the borders of society had an impact on the schol-
ars’ mindset too. With the science of fiqh and uÎËl al-fiqh becoming the 
least prestigious of all, scholars either remained in isolation from society 
and turned toward the stale transmission of whatever their predecessors 
had left—or, driven by the urge of regaining terrain for themselves or their 
science, opted for the pragmatic approach of becoming relevant to a secu-
lar society. “Shar‘iah goes banking” is an epithet for trying to overcome the 
bias between Islamic law and reality—by “adapting” Islamic concepts in 
the end. Apparently, only few scholars have analyzed these biases and their 
effect on an Islamic intellectual foundation.

Ebrahim Moosa describes that one of the salient features of contem-
porary Islamic law is its predictability in the sense that “libertine jurists 
would try to make permissive the changing social context, while tradition-
alists would resist the pace of change and declare many moral acts prohib-
ited.”61 While the legal argumentation focuses on “necessity” (ÌarËrah) 
and “public benefit” (maÎlaÍah) on one side, the exigencies of a literal or 
implicit meaning of a text are emphasized on the other.62

The work of contemporary fuqahÉ’ often resembles a remake of Pro-
crustes’ story, trying to adapt Islamic rules to a bed constructed of non-
Islamic reality and concepts. Rather dramatically, the Islamic legal rule 
is either stretched beyond the meaning of the texts, or cut back—isolated 
from its own background, to fit into a too narrow space. Agents of stretch-
ing and cutting may easily be identified in a decontextualised overusage of 
references to the theory of maqÉÎid (the objectives of Islamic law), maÎÉliÍ 
mursalah (benefits undefined by Islamic texts, generally but somehow un-



The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 28:162

luckily translated as “public interest”) and the rule of ÌarËrah (necessity). 
The major crux of this methodology—the definition and identification of 
benefits and harms in a non-Islamic setting—is generally overlooked. Who 
has questioned Procrustes’ action? Why not provide the matching bed for 
the respective person?

Stating that one of the dilemmas of Islamic bioethics in this era is its 
having to relate to imported questions does not necessarily imply a premo-
dernity vs a postmodernity conflict.63 It is not the dilemma of a pre-modern 
legal and ethical system trying to cope with a postmodern technology64—
where the postmodernism, which is presumably destined to stay, expects 
that necessary changes be made to the pre-modern epistemology. As the 
preceding differentiation between the different forms of science has shown, 
technology does not challenge the Islamic worldview or necessitate a new 
epistemology. The real change is that within the last century or so the appli-
cation of this worldview has been decreased to a minimum in most coun-
tries of the Islamic world—with today’s Islamic concepts being applied in 
the limited realm of personal worship, marriage, divorce, and inheritance 
in most countries of the Islamic world, and in some places even less, and 
there has been a respective impact on the Muslim mindset. Technology, in 
terms of medical treatment as well as the advances made by biotechnology, 
can be incorporated by the demands of Islamic law. However, the relativ-
ism of post-modernism, on a par with the culturally bound ethics which 
claim universality, cannot. In other words, the dilemma is not that Islam is 
not able to cope with technological innovations and developments, because 
they will be incorporated into a permissible usage in accordance with the 
objectives of the Islamic world view. The dilemma is rather the attempt to 
reconcile Islamic teachings with a non-Islamic (bio)ethical system. 

Some contemporary treatises on Islamic bioethics emphasize the ne-
cessity to formulate Islamic rules on bioethical matters in a way apt to 
serve a formal rationality used for complying with transnational or national 
organizations.65 To me, this seems to be more part of the dilemma than a 
solution to it.

Brain Death as a Case Study
There is probably no topic as suitable to underscore the effects of the differ-
ent worldviews—the Islamic and the secular capitalist—as death. Whereas 
Islam considers death as an inevitable marking of passage to the afterlife, 
secular thought comes to see it more and more like a malfunction that may 
one day “be subjugated through biomedical research and technology.”66 



63The Dilemmas of Islamic Bioethics in the Twenty-first Century

Death is increasingly seen as an “obstacle to the enjoyment of the expand-
ing material pleasures of the world.”67 The view on anti-ageing research 
illuminates this difference.68

How to define death? Traditionally, medical science relied on cardio-
pulmonary analysis to ascertain death—that is, the absence of heartbeat 
and pulse. With the advent of two major health care developments in the 
1960s, “the development of intensive care units, with artificial airways 
and mechanical ventilators to treat irreversible apnea, thus interrupting the 
natural evolution from brain failure to cardiac arrest, and the emergence of 
organ donation arising from the new discipline of transplant surgery,” the 
socio-medically constructed definition of death came to be changed.69 Loss 
of personality in a brain dead person and the inability to respond, have 
been taken as an indicator of the death of this person.70 Differentiation is 
made between the whole-brain definition of death, with a complete and 
irreversible loss of brain function, where the person would not be able to 
sustain necessary functions without support—and a higher-brain definition 
of death, with an irreversible loss of the higher brain functions, absence of 
consciousness and the inability to relate to other people, but a possibility of 
spontaneous breathing. Patients have been reported to “return to life” from 
this later stage (by spontaneous breathing),71 and even the continuation of 
pregnancies in a brain–dead person is possible.72

The concept of brain death, though initially vehemently discussed for 
ethical reasons, came to be accepted by the medical profession, and under 
slightly divergent conditions, by most legislative systems worldwide, in-
cluding the countries in the Islamic world. Generally, the confirmation of 
more than one medical doctor as to the irreversibility of the person’s state 
is demanded.73 It was a significant departure from the traditional way of 
defining death.74

Why should it be so important to agree on the death of a person whose 
brain function is irreversibly lost, without waiting for the natural consecu-
tive failure of the heart and other life functions? The reason is a constructed 
necessity: the exigencies of a highly developed organ transplant machin-
ery. Accordingly, critics of the concept of brain death describe it as a social 
construct created for utilitarian purposes to permit transplantation.75 

Without wanting to belittle the advancements of medical treatment in 
this respect, I need to state that the exigencies of a highly technological, 
organ transplant-minded medical system in need of harvesting organs has 
given rise to the formulation of the concept of brain death and the ethi-
cal discussion on it. There is a consensus that the donation itself must not 



The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 28:164

cause the death of the donor—commonly referred to as the “dead donor” 
rule.76 Except for the brain, every solid organ may today be replaced (or 
supported by technology).77 The main problem of organ transplantation, 
however, is the paucity of donors.78 In addition, organ transplantation is 
more successful if the organs are sufficiently provided with oxygen (“ven-
tilated”); this is the case with “brain dead” persons.

Organ transplantation started in the 1950s, with the first kidney trans-
plant in 1954.79 This form of medical care, embedded in its specific profes-
sional ethics, has been exported to the Islamic world, and its own mecha-
nisms with it. Muslim scholars and bioethicists have been exposed to the 
question of organ transplants and brain death, and answered these with a 
plethora of divergent ijtihÉdÉt;80 in the reflection on the rationale, mecha-
nism, and the link between organ transplantation and brain death, it needs 
to be said that the economic factor, is hardly questioned.

The necessity to declare brain death as death is therefore a result of a 
particular system, with a particular underlying rationale, which have been 
exported to be answered on an Islamic basis. The knowledge we gain is 
limited by the framework we apply, the construction of organ transplanta-
tion, and the need for donors as a necessity have paved the way for the 
answers.

Before going into the details of Muslim scholars’ analysis and its char-
acteristics, I would like to offer some deliberations on the underlying ratio-
nale of organ transplantation and brain death.

It is worthwhile to reflect on why Muslim medics, with the immense 
contributions they have made to the development of medicine, did not ven-
ture into the field of organ transplantation. I maintain that given the in-
novativeness of Muslim scientists, the technical requirements could have 
been developed. 

Given that lifestyle and preventive measures have an impact on overall 
health, organ malfunction may not have been as prominent in an Islamic 
society. The inviolability (Íurmah) of the human body, particularly after 
death, and the right of the human to a fast burial, have been too strong in 
Muslim society than as to venture in this field. Although some Muslim 
medics ventured into dissections, they were not officially supported.81 The 
main reason for the lacking development of organ transplantation, how-
ever, seems to be that the human body is not seen as a commodity, but an 
amÉnah (an entrusted good). Tissue engineering, the engineering of organs 
from the patient’s own cells, may have been developed earlier without the 
availability of donor organ material. Preventive measures would have been 



65The Dilemmas of Islamic Bioethics in the Twenty-first Century

more important. The opposite is the case in the secular capitalist system of 
Western provenience.

Medical thinking within secular thought may be inclined to see the 
human body as a commodity. The Islamic framework does not support 
this idea. In a system that separates this life from the Hereafter, any device 
that may prolong this-worldly life is welcome. Commodification of the 
human body and utilitarianism do definitely account for these develop-
ments. The economic factor must not be underestimated either, taking into 
account the profits involved in a procedure-maximizing health care system, 
and the costs involved for keeping brain dead persons on life support de-
vices. Another important aspect is the question of lifestyle; the emphasis 
made of preventive cure by lifestyle is still small, and Western lifestyle, the 
consumption of muÍarramÉt (Islamically prohibited food and substances), 
particularly, takes a high toll.

Medical thinking takes place in a set framework—a social, philosophi-
cal, or historical construct. If organ transplantation is considered the only 
cure to organ malfunction, questions are asked and solutions sought after 
within the confines of this thinking. It would indeed need a revolution to 
start asking question outside of this system. 

Within this imported health care system, declaring brain death as death 
has been constructed as an inherent necessity. Accommodating it accounts 
for modernism, while opposing it stands for “hindering science and medi-
cal care.” The dilemma has been imported into the Islamic world, to the 
Muslim legal scholars, without these reflections, and with the anticipated 
outcome.

In the Islamic context, death is defined as the time when the soul (al-
rËÍ) leaves the body. The exact time and way of the soul leaving the body is 
not known, and just like the definition of the soul (al-rËÍ) has caused much 
discussion and controversy. Muslim scholars have therefore not precisely 
defined life and death; they have rather seen one as the opposite and the 
absence of the other: death is the absence of life, just as life is the absence 
of death. The dividing line between both is the absence or presence of the 
soul. If the soul is present, the person is alive; if it is absent, the person is 
dead. Because the location of the soul has given rise to many discussions in 
the history of Islamic thought, I shall not repeat it here.82 Muslim scholars 
have, however, laid down some indicators of death; some of which have 
been derived from the Qur’an and Sunnah, such as the lack of movement 
and speech, the glazed look (“If the soul leaves the body, the eyes follow 
it”83); others are taken from the description of reality—like relaxation of 



The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 28:166

the limbs, opening of the lips, sinking in of the nose, the change in skin 
color, temperature, and the change of smell.84 

From the Shar‘iah perspective, a number of legal effects result from 
the death of a person; among them: the beginning of the spouse’s wait-
ing period (Ñiddah), the ceasing of legal responsibility (taklÊf), the demand 
to cover any debts, the distribution of the dead person’s wealth, placing 
the person in the direction of qiblah, the body’s preparation for burial and 
prayer, and the condoling of family.85 

The fiqhÊ views on the acceptance or nonacceptance of brain death 
are diverse—among the accepting voices are MuÍammad Naim Yasin and 
Muhammad Sulayman al-Ashqar.86 Yasin argues that contrary to the begin-
ning of human life, there is no categorical textual command on the end of 
human life. It is therefore under the scope of ijtihÉd. For this reason, he 
refers the decision on whether life has ended or not to “the specialists” of 
the medical profession.87 Yasin then draws an analogy to cases in criminal 
law, where jurists are to differentiate between various phases leading to 
the death of a victim. Who is considered the murderer of a person who has 
been stabbed by two people, and which attack brought about death? His 
point relates to a discussion of the phase of death (marÍalat al-mawt)—
as well as in absence of absolute certainty, the overweighing probability 
of death.88 Signs of pulse, heartbeat or any other functional organ are not 
conclusive on the presence of the soul; this, he stipulates, is linked to the 
brain.89 Ashqar concludes from his evaluations of precedent cases of in-
jured persons that a person with pulse or heartbeat is not necessarily con-
sidered a living person for the purpose of the law. A seriously wounded 
person nearing death is viewed as either dead or in the phase of death. The 
verification of a person’s status as being either dead or alive, in the end, 
has to be left to specialist physicians. On this basis, a brain-dead person 
should be given the legal rule of the deceased (Íukm al-mayyit), and this 
person’s organs may be used. Interestingly, and this is where the paradox 
emerges, Ashqar does not allow a brain-dead person’s estate to be divided; 
the wife of such a person cannot be declared a widow until a conventional 
cardiopulmonary assertion of death has been made.90 This legal evaluation 
reveals the entire dilemma of Islamic bioethics today: presenting a legal 
patchwork that declares the same person as dead for one purpose (of organ 
harvesting), and not dead for another. 

As a representative of the voices rejecting the definition of brain death 
as death, I refer the reader to Tawfiq al-Wa’i. In his detailed submission to 
the Fiqh Academy discussion on brain death, he expounds on the integrity 



67The Dilemmas of Islamic Bioethics in the Twenty-first Century

of the body independent of the soul.91 All life in the human body needs to 
be recognized as part of the divine miracle and mystery of life, there is no 
indicator that gives the brain more emphasis than other organs.92 He goes 
back to breathing as being an indicator of human life, the indicator estab-
lished by the Hanafi, Shafi’i and Hanbali schools.93 The absence of sense 
perception and articulation, he argues, cannot be considered a factor in sup-
port of brain death, as these phenomena may be present in children all the 
same.  Another supporting argument against the acceptance of brain death 
is the allocation of the legal capacity of acquisition (ahliyyat al-wujËb) for 
this decision even in persons (children and the mentally disabled) who do 
not have a legal capacity of action (ahliyyat al-adÉ’).94 Al-Wa’i empha-
sizes the view of the classical fuqhahÉ’ that “certainty cannot be removed 
by doubt” (al-yaqÊn lÉ yazËlu bi l-shakk). It follows that, as long as the 
body shows signs of life (heartbeat, pulse, breathing), respect for human 
dignity demands that such persons be protected. Based on the principle 
of istiÎÍÉb (the presumption of continuity), he argues that the person has 
to be considered alive as long as there are no clear-cut proofs of a change 
having occurred.95 The acceptance of brain death would have manifold le-
gal consequences—such as those related to contracts, bequest, inheritance, 
trusteeships, marriage, debts, maintenance, when  to start funeral rituals; 
for example, if brain death were to be synonymous with death, many of 
these questions would lead to challenges. 

Other scholars have come to the same conclusion, among them Mu-
hammad Mukhtar al-Salami, the Mufti of Tunis. He maintains that it is 
impossible to provide an absolute definition of death because (scientific) 
knowledge is constantly developing.96 There always remains a possibility 
that a damaged brain stem may be repaired and cured in the future.97 ‘Abd 
al-Basit, finally, clearly draws the link to the rationale of brain death, stat-
ing that the goal of those advocating brain death as an indication of death 
is  to benefit from the organs of a potential donor and this concept there-
fore borders on an “extreme danger.”98 He also criticizes the reference to 
maÎlaÍah mursalah (a secondary source of law controversially discussed 
by the scholars of uÎËl al-fiqh; it supposedly refers to interests that are 
not testified to by the texts of the Shar‘iah) in this respect, because only 
benefits in accordance with the revealed law are acceptable. He clearly 
warns against the following of passions and desires in this respect.99 After 
debating extensively, the Islamic Fiqh Academy issued the resolution that 
“a person is considered to be legally dead, and all the rules of the Shar‘iah 
can be applied, when one of the following signs is established: 1. Com-



The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 28:168

plete stoppage of the heart and breathing, and the doctors decide that it is 
irreversible. 2. Complete stoppage of all the vital brain functions and the 
specialist doctors rule that it is irreversible, and the brain has started to 
degenerate.”100 Other institutions, like the Muslim Council of Britain, sup-
port brain stem death, and the next of kin may give permission for organs 
to be used for transplantation purposes.101 Most countries with a majority 
Muslim population now accept the brain-death criterion. For example, in 
Saudi Arabia, the brain-death criterion is used to justify the use of about 
half of all kidneys derived from cadavers for transplantation.102 

In his discussion of Wa’i, Moosa alludes to the problem of different 
underlying systems and the anomalies and paradoxes emerging from disre-
garding these; “If brain death were to be accepted, then it logically would 
have a domino effect on the rituals of death as well as an impact on socio-
logical practices such as the status of existing marriages and succession 
between the parties. . . . For understandable reasons, many reform-minded 
jurists who are eager to introduce legal change, fail to reflect on the impact 
that their new assumptions and norms would have on other aspects of the 
law.”103

These scholarly discussions involve a number of other legal consider-
ations (for example, the differentiation between stable and unstable life, an 
analogy from the “the last movements of an animal that has already been 
slaughtered and is physically dead” [Íarakat al-madhbËÍ] ), and many oth-
ers that have not found due discussion here.104 My purpose was rather to 
demonstrate the shortcomings in the mechanism of dealing with bioethical 
questions—a situation that I think, indicates a major dilemma.

The questions of brain death and the switching off the life-support ma-
chine are usually combined, although they ought to be separated. It is the 
secular setting again that allows the machine to appear to decide over the 
life and death of the person—as a causal link of “machine on, patient alive; 
machine off, patient dies.” Islamic thought sees the causality of life and 
death as being the command of the Creator, while ‘life-supporting mea-
sures’ account for a medical treatment that may or may not bring about a 
situation of healing or otherwise in a circumstantial way; these measures 
are not a cause-effect-link. Equaling brain death with death is not a nec-
essary requirement to switch off the machines. If it comes to no effect in 
terms of betterment, the usage of life-support devices would be the deci-
sion of those providing medical treatment, —that is, they may be either 
continued or discontinued. Should the life span (ajal) have ended at this 
point of time, the discontinuation of treatment will cause the person to die. 



69The Dilemmas of Islamic Bioethics in the Twenty-first Century

However, it may also happen that the person starts to breath out of his own 
efforts. 

Conclusions
Islamic bioethics are defined by the Islamic legal rule, and there is no di-
vorce of (bio)ethics from fiqh. I conclude that, though scientific knowledge 
may be divided into value-bound and value-free, there is no universal or 
value free bioethical system, because there is no universal or value free us-
age and interpretation of science. 

Within the described Islamic model of science and medicine, the de-
velopment of Islamic bioethics would be naturally linked to the develop-
ment of the sciences and contextualized in an Islamic value system. In the 
contemporary context and with the absence of the Islamic systems, dif-
ficulties or inconsistencies in applying the Islamic bioethical model arise 
because science is not Islamically contextualized. The same may be said on 
a more general level of Islamic law.

I have shown how constructed realities related to the life sciences have 
been imported into the Islamic context, and the dilemmas in terms of incon-
sistencies evolving from this, on an intellectual, practical and legal level.

The dilemmas of bioethics in the twenty-first century are therefore ef-
fects of the decontextualization of science, particularly the life sciences, 
from the Islamic way of life, and the decontextualization of Islamic law 
from its necessary framework of application.

Islamic law and Islamic (bio)ethics today, therefore, are moving like a 
stranger in a strange land.

Endnotes  
1. “In Greek mythology Procrustes (Προκρούστης) or “the stretcher [who 

hammers out the metal]”, also known as Prokoptas or Damastes (Δαμαστής) 
“subduer”, was a rogue smith and bandit from Attica who physically attacked 
people, stretching them, or cutting off their legs so as to make them fit an iron 
bed’s size. In general, when something is Procrustean different lengths or 
sizes or properties are fitted to an arbitrary standard.” Wikipedia.

2. “The classical juridicial heritage, as I have demonstrated in this study, instead 
of functioning as a template for further moral reflection about critical human 
conditions and vulnerability in the context of modern healthcare institutions, 
has simply been retrieved to advance or obstruct legitimate advancements in 
biomedicine.” Abdalaziz Sachedina, Islamic Biomedical Ethics: Principles 
and Application (New York: Oxford University Press, 2009), 222.



The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 28:170

3. John Bryant, Linda Baggott la Velle, and John Searle, Introduction to Bioeth-
ics (Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley & Sons, 2005), 9 ff.

4. Ziauddin Sardar, Explorations in Islamic Science (London: Mansell, 1989), 5.
5. Pervez Hoodbhoy, Islam and Science: Religious Orthodoxy and the Battle 

for Rationality (London: Zed Books, 1991), passim.
6. Ibn Khaldun, Al-Muqaddimah, Book 6, Chapter 4, FÊ AÎnÉf al-ÑUlËm (Bei-

rut, Lebanon: DÉr Ibn ×azm, 2003), 333. 
7. Ibid.
8. MuÍammad ÑAlÊ al-×asan, Al-ÑAlÉqÉt al-Duwaliyyah fÊ l-Qur’Én wa l-Sun-

nah, (Amman, Jordan: Maktabat al-NahÌah al-Islamiyyah, 1982), 294.
9. Transmitted by Bukhari, hadith no. 2499, and Muslim, hadith no. 3242, Sakhr 

Software-Al-Hadith Al-Sharif (www.sakhr.com).
10. H. Tristram Engelhardt, The Foundations of Bioethics, 2nd ed. (New York: 

Oxford University Press, 1996), 218.
11. Ibid, 192 ff.
12.  Mohammad Tariqur Rahman, et al, “Therapeutic Interventions: an Islamic 

Perspective.” Journal of the Islamic Medical Association of North America, 
40 (2008), 60–68.

13. Robert M. Veatch, Transplantation Ethics (Washington, DC: Georgetown 
University Press, 2000), 30.

14. Atighetchi alludes to the generalized homogenization of the health care sys-
tem that is without precedent in history. Dariusch Atighetchi, Islamic Bio-
ethics: Problems and Perspectives (Dordrecht, The Netherlands: Springer, 
2007), 22.

15. Sachedina: Islamic Biomedical Ethics, 165.
16. George Annas underscores the influence of the American legal system, as 

well as the market on bioethics. George Annas, “The Dominance of Ameri-
can Law (and Market Values) over American Bioethics,” in Meta Medical 
Ethics, The Philosophical Foundations of Bioethics (Boston Studies in the 
Philosophy of Science), ed. Michael Grodin. (Dordrecht, the Netherlands: 
Kluwer, 1995), 83–91.

17. The intention here is not to belittle the scientific and technical achievements 
made under the tenets of this system. It is, however, vital to understand the 
different approaches of both models and value systems and recognize their 
possible impacts on the sciences and bioethics to avoid remaining in the pre-
dominant paradigm and to look for and understand the Islamic approach to 
find solutions to our current dilemmas.

18. “In addition to its initial focus on ethical issues relevant to clinical care, bio-
ethics concerns the moral, legal, political, and social issues raised by medi-
cine, biomedical research, and life science technologies.” Peter A. Singer and 
A. M. Viens, eds., The Cambridge Textbook of Bioethics (Cambridge, UK: 
Cambridge University Press, 2008), 1.

 The online version of the Encyclopaedia Britannica defines bioethics as a 
“branch of applied ethics that studies the philosophical, social, and legal is-



71The Dilemmas of Islamic Bioethics in the Twenty-first Century

sues arising in medicine and the life sciences.” “Bioethics,” www.britannica.
com.

19. Ibid.
20. Farhat Moazam, Bioethics and Organ Transplantation in a Muslim Society: 

A Study in Culture, Ethnography, and Religion (Bloomington, IN: Indiana 
University Press, 2006), 75.

21. George Annas, “The Dominance of American Law (and Market Values) over 
American Bioethics,” 88.

22. Singer and Viens, eds., Cambridge Textbook of Bioethics, 1.
23. Ibid.
24. Abdul Haq Ansari, “Islamic Ethics: Concept and Prospect,” American Jour-

nal of Islamic Social Sciences 6, no.1 (1989): 81–91.
25. Majid Fakhry, Ethical Theories in Islam (Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 

1994).
26. The recent endeavor for the initiation of ethics as an independent discipline 

may be taken as an indicator for the loss of the holistic evaluation and ap-
plication of Islamic thought.

27. IsÍÉq b. ÑAlÊ al-RahÉwÊ, Adab al-ÙabÊb, ed. Dr. Murayzin SaÑÊd ‘AssÊrÊ (Al-
Riyadh, Saudi Arabia: Markaz al-Malik FayÎal lil-buÍËth wa l-dirasÉt al-
islÉmiyyah, 1993), 23. 

28. Fazlur Rahman, Health and Medicine in the Islamic Tradition: Change and 
Identity (New York: Crossroad, 1989) 91 ff.

29. IsÍÉq b. ÑAlÊ al-TahÉwÊ, Adab al-ÙabÊb.
30. See, for instance, the research papers presented at the Second International 

Islamic Medical Congress, Kuwait 1982. AÍmad RajaÑÊ al-JundÊ, ed., AbÍÉth 
wa AÑmÉl al-Mu’tamar al-ÑÓlamÊ al-ThÉnÊ Ñan al-Ùibb al-IslÉmÊ (Kuwait, 
Mu’assasat al-Kuwait li l-Taqaddum al-ÑIlmÊ, 1982).

31. See also Sachedina, Islamic Biomedical Ethics, 17 ff.
32. “If secular Western bioethics can be described as rights based, with a strong 

emphasis on individual rights, Islamic bioethics is based on duties and ob-
ligations (e.g., to preserve life, seek treatment), although rights (of God, the 
community, and the individual) do feature in bioethics, as does a call to virtue 
(ihsan).” Abdallah S. Daar, Tarif Bakdash, and Ahmed B. Khitamy, “Islamic 
Bioethics,” in The Cambridge Textbook of Bioethics, ed. Peter A. Singer and 
A. M. Viens (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2008) 408–415.

 “The modern idea of the autonomous self envisions social actors as self-
contained matrixes of desires who direct their own interests. In Islamic com-
munitarian ethics autonomy is far from being recognized as one of the major 
bioethical principles.” Sachedina, Islamic Biomedical Ethics, 13.

33. For reasons of space constraints, the discussion can only be referred to. 
Please see for details: ‘Ayāḍ b. ‘Abdillāh Shahrānī, Al-Taḥsīn wa l-Taqbīh 
al-‘Aqliyayn wa Atharuhumā fi Masā’il Uṣūl al-Fiqh, (Al-Riyadh, Saudi Ara-
bia), 350 ff. 



The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 28:172

34. Contrary to my view is the implication of Mohammed Ali Shomali, “Islamic 
Bioethics: A General Scheme,” Journal of Medical Ethics and History of 
Medicine (Teheran) 1, no. 1 (2008): 1–8. This complex question is in need 
of more analysis, and Fazlur Rahman presents a critique of the constructed 
bifurcation in “Law and Ethics in Islam,” in Ethics in Islam, ed. Richard Ho-
vannisian (Lancaster, CA: Undena Publications, 1984), 3–17.

35. Moazam, Bioethics and Organ Transplantation in a Muslim Society, 2. See 
also Atighetchi, Islamic Biomedical Ethics, 15.

36. Ibid.
37. S. Aksoy. and A Elmali, “The Core Concepts of the Four Principles of Bio-

ethics as Found in Islamic Tradition,” Medicine and Law 21, no. 2 (2002): 
211–24.

 Atighetchi alludes to the dissemination of this model in Athighetchi, Islamic 
Bioethics, 21.

38. Tom L. Beauchamp, and James F Childress, Principles of Biomedical Ethics 
(Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2001).

39. There are contemporary fiqhÊ discussions on the permissibility of abortion of 
a severely handicapped foetus prior to ensoulment, though. The exact time of 
ensoulment is controversial; some scholars date it at 40 days, others at 120 
days after fertilization of the egg cell. However, to my knowledge, there is no 
view allowing abortion on these grounds in the last trimester of pregnancy. 
See Athighetchi, Islamic Bioethics, 91 ff.

40. Engelhardt, The Foundations of Bioethics, 9. 
41. “Anthropologists and social scientists have been critical of modern bioeth-

ics on the grounds that it is based on Western moral philosophy and Western 
biomedical perspectives. An additional criticism is that bioethics is located 
within a theoretical framework that emphasizes the application of scientifi-
cally rigorous medical care to people who are sufficiently autonomous to 
make self-interested decisions about themselves in a context of minimal so-
cial connectedness. . . .” S. R. Benatar, “Global and Cross-cultural Issues,” in 
Singer and Viens, eds., Cambridge Textbook of Bioethics, 344.

42. R. S. Downie and Jane Macnaughton, Bioethics and the Humanities: Atti-
tudes and Perceptions (Oxfordshire, UK: Routledge-Cavendish, 2007). 

43. “The failure of the modern philosophical project to discover a canonical con-
tent-full morality constitutes the fundamental catastrophe of contemporary 
secular culture and frames the context of contemporary bioethics.” Engelhar-
dt, The Foundations of Bioethics, 8

44. James Childress, “Methods in Bioethics,” in Oxford Handbook of Bioethics. 
ed. Bonnie Steinbock (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 15–45.

45. Engelhardt, The Foundations of Bioethics, 295.
46. See Daar, Bakdash, and Khitamy; “Islamic Bioethics.” 
47. Moazam: Bioethics and Organ Transplantation in a Muslim Society, 222.
48. Moazam, referring to her experience in Pakistan, states: “Their (Muslim doc-

tors) knowledge of Muslim discourse on bioethics and organ transplantation 



73The Dilemmas of Islamic Bioethics in the Twenty-first Century

thus appeared selective and limited to what supported their daily tasks as 
nephrologists and transplant surgeons” (Bioethics and Organ Transplanta-
tion in a Muslim Society, 6).

49. Ibn Khaldun, Al-Muqaddimah, ed., DarwÊsh al-JuwaydÊ (Beirut, Lebanon: 
Al-Maktabah al-ÑAÎriyyah, 1996), 137. 

 “Al-ÑÓmmatu ÑalÉ dÊn al-malik” (Common people abide by their king’s re-
ligion) needs to be understood from this perspective as well, in the sense of 
people living in and interacting in a framework set by people in power.

50. See Daar, Bakdash, and Khitamy; “Islamic Bioethics.” 
51. Sachedina’s Islamic Biomedical Ethics may be mentioned as an exception to 

this. 
52. For an English version of the contributions, see Al-Raja’i, Jundi, ed, “Pro-

ceedings of the First International Conference on Islamic Medicine: Celebrat-
ing the Advent of the Fifteenth Hijri Century,” Bulletin of Islamic Medicine 
(Kuwait) 1, no. 2, Kuwait, (January 1981). The proceedings of the medical 
conference in Kuwait in 1982 treat medical ethics in several contributions, 
while somehow the remaining contributions are quite general. The “Islamic 
Chart of the medical profession”, however, clarifies details on medical ethics 
(Al-Raja’i, Al-Ùibb al-islÉmÊ, 680) and concludes with the Islamic medical 
oath. (Al-Raja’i, Al-Ùibb al-IslÉmÊ, 700), the Islamized version of the Hip-
pocratic Oath.

53. Fazlur Rahman, Health and Medicine in the Islamic Tradition, 62 ff.; see 
also Majallat MajmaÑ al-Fiqh al-IslÉmÊ (MMFI), Al-Dawrah al-ThÉminah 
li-Mu’tamar MajmaÑ al-Fiqh al-IslÉmÊ, Al-ÑAdad al-ThÉmin (no.8), Al-Juz’ 
al-ThÉlith (part 3) (MMFI 3:2), 1994/1415: 113. 

54. On the usage of porcine products in medication and their alternatives, see 
Muhammad ‘Ali al-Bar, “Al-TadÉwÊ bi l-MuÍarramÉt,” MMFI 3 (1994): 
305–61.

55. Ibid.
56. Atighetchi, Islamic Biomedical Ethics, 140 ff.; also see MMFI: 3:1, 425 ff.; 

for the committee’s decision, see 515 f.
57. Christopher Thomas Scott, Stem Cell Now. A Brief Introduction to the Com-

ing Medical Revolution (New York: Plume, 2008), 123 ff.
58. Ibid., 65 ff.
59. Atighetchi, Islamic Biomedical Ethics, 248 ff.
60. See the diverging views of Shahid Athar and al-Qaradawi on this issue. Dina 

Rashed, “Cloning is Not Playing God,” www.islamonline.net, [presently not 
accessible, last accessed in 2001]. Qaradawi, www.Islam-online.net/fatwa 
application [presently not accessible; last accessed in 2001] Compare Sa-
chedina’s discussion on the aspect of human dignity in tissues and “frozen 
embryos.” (Sachedina, Islamic Biomedical Ethics, 210 ff.)

61. Ebrahim Moosa, “Languages of Change in Islamic Law: Redefining Death 
in Modernity,” in Perspectives on Islamic Law, Justice and Society, ed. R. S. 
Khare (Lanham, MD: Rowan and Littlefield, 1999), 161–97.



The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 28:174

62. Ibid.
63. Ibid., 182.
64. Moosa expresses this idea: “Instead of engaging reality and reformulating a 

contemporary legal theory, most Muslim jurists today still employ the pre-
modern legal theory as a framework. The upshot of such legal activity is 
anachronism and pragmatism: anachronism as a result of changed realities 
and pragmatism due to a lack of theoretical coherence. Challenged by novel 
and complex ethical problems, modern legal opinions reflect paradoxes, in-
consistencies, and a patchwork of ad hoc reformulations of legal theory with-
out any reasonable coherence.” Ibid., 162.

65. “Developments in modern Islamic jurisprudence have reached a critical 
stage. On the one hand, Muslim nation-states that espouse the application 
of Islamic law in a modern and bureaucratized state require general norms, 
rules, and principles to make Islamic law work. If this process continues, the 
trajectory for the development of a formal rationality in Islamic law may well 
materialize. For these reasons, intergovernmental institutions like the OIC 
and its Academy of Jurisprudence are increasingly under pressure to provide 
laws applicable in a rational and transnational political order.” (Ibid., 191) 
Compare Sachedina, Islamic Biomedical Ethics, 224: ”Without this epistem-
ic shift in Islamic juridical inquiry, Muslim concerns based on their cultural 
and religious values will always remain marginal to international organiza-
tions like WHO or UNESCO.”

66. Sachedina, Islamic Biomedical Ethics, 165.
67. Ibid.
68. Ibid. 
69. Sam S. Shemie et al., “Brain Death,” in The Cambridge Textbook of Bioeth-

ics, ed. Singer and Viens, 85–91.
70. Ibid., 87.
71. Ibid.
72. Ibid., 86.
73. NadÉ Al-Daqar, Mawt al-DimÉgh bayna l-Ïibb wa l-IslÉm (Damascus, Syria: 

DÉr al-Fikr, 1997), 224.
74. Sam S. Shemie et al., “Brain Death,” in The Cambridge Textbook of Bioeth-

ics, ed. Singer and Viens, 86.
75. Ibid., 86.
76. Ibid., 85 ff.
77. Ibid., 86.
78. Some countries, like Singapore, have declared every citizen as a donor after 

death by default, with the possibility to opt out. (www.moh.gov.sg/mohcorp/
legislations.aspx?id=1672, retrieved April 2010.)

79. Linda Wright, et al, “Organ Transplantation,” in The Cambridge Textbook of 
Bioethics, 145–52.

80. See Sachedina, Islamic Biomedical Ethics, 161 ff. for a summary on Islamic 
legal views on organ transplantation.



75The Dilemmas of Islamic Bioethics in the Twenty-first Century

81. Ibrahim b. Murad, BuÍËth fÊ TÉrÊkh al-Ùibb wa l-Øaydalah Ñinda l-ÑArab, DÉr 
al-Gharb al-IslÉmiyyah, 20 ff.

82. Al-Daqar, Mawt al-DimÉgh, 100 ff.
83. ØaÍÊÍ Muslim, KitÉb al-JanÉ’iz, hadith no.1528. Al-Hadith al-Sharif, Sakhr 

Software.
84. Al-Daqar, Mawt al-DimÉgh, 139 ff.
85. Ibid., 142 ff.
86. Moosa, “Languages of Change in Islamic Law,” 172 ff.; MMFI 3, no. 2: 

635–660, 661-671.
87. Moosa, “Languages of Change in Islamic Law,” 172; MMFI 3, no. 2: 635. 

Delegating the end of life definition to medical professionals is a recurrent 
motif; see Sachedina, Islamic Biomedical Ethics, 163.

88. Moosa, “Languages of Change in Islamic Law,” 174; MMFI 3, no. 2: 645.
89. Moosa, “Languages of Change in Islamic Law,” 175; MMFI: 657.
90. Moosa, “Languages of Change in Islamic Law,” 176 ff., MMFI 3, no. 2: 

670–71.
91. Moosa, “Languages of Change in Islamic Law,” 178, MMFI, 3, no. 2: 701.
92. MMFI 3, no. 2: 705.
93. Ibid.
94. Moosa, “Languages of Change in Islamic Law,” 180: MMFI 3, no. 2: 718. 
95. MMFI 3, no. 2: 710.
96. MMFI 3, no.2: 687, Moosa, “Languages of Change in Islamic Law,” 181.
97. Ibid.
98. Ibid.
99. MMFI 3, no. 2: 684, Moosa, “Languages of Change in Islamic Law,” 181.
100. Moosa, “Languages of Change in Islamic Law,” 181 ff; MMFI 3, no.2: 684.
101. Abdi Omar Shuriye, Islamic Ethical Values on Bioengineering Practices: 

Issues in Genetic Engineering (Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia: Research Centre, 
International Islamic University Malaysia,  2006), 58.

102. Daar, Bakdash, and Khitamy; “Islamic Bioethics,” 412.
103. Moosa, “Languages of Change in Islamic Law,” 190 ff.
104. For detailed discussions, please refer to Sachedina, Islamic Biomedical Eth-

ics, p.160 ff.; Al-Daqar, Mawt al-Dimagh, passim; Moosa, “Languages of 
Change in Islamic Law,” passim; MMFI 3, no.2.