Authored By: Maryam Samira Khan
SOAS, University Of London
Abstract
Drawing on colonial and postcolonial court records, legislative texts, and ESCC decisions, this article traces Egypt’s transition from the Qadi courts’ ethics-based flexibility to a rigid, procedure-bound personal‑status regime. It examines key milestones – namely, the 1929 Personal Status Code, Bayt Al‑Taʾa enforcement, and post-1980 constitutional rulings – to show how codification derailed women’s contractual leverage and entrenched class-based divorce barriers. The Supreme Constitutional Court’s inconsistent rulings regarding polygamy and Khulʿ highlight ongoing tensions between Islamic ethical principles and transplanted positivist structures. By revealing how proceduralism can recast substantive rights, this study offers a new framework for debates on religious law, gender justice, and judicial reform in postcolonial settings.
Keywords: Legal Transplants; Islamic Jurisprudence (Fiqh); Legal Positivism, Legal Pluralism, Codification, Constitution, Colonialism, Gender Rights, Divorce (Khul’/Talaq’)
Introduction: Defining “Legal Transplants”, “Legal Positivism”, and “Islamic Law”
The colonial transplantation of European legal codes in Egypt transformed Islamic jurisprudence from a flexible, ethics-based system into a rigid, positivist framework, fundamentally altering the nature of personal-status rights. Alan Watson pioneered the study of “Legal Transplants”,[1] defining it as the movement and adoption of legal rules, institutions and concepts across jurisdictional boundaries.[2] While scholars discuss “legal transplants” and “diffusion of law” interchangeably,[3] this article adopts the term “Legal Transplants” to maintain theoretical consistency.
Mathias Siems contends that recipient countries can benefit from legal rules that are a success in the exporter’s jurisdiction.[4] Nonetheless, the success of a transplant depends on whether the transplanted norm operates efficiently and fulfils its intended purpose within the socio-legal framework of the host jurisdiction.[5]
However, there is considerable scepticism and academic discourse surrounding the practicality of Legal Transplants. Pierre Legrand argues that Legal Transplants are fundamentally impossible because legal norms are inextricably bound to socio-cultural and epistemological frameworks that provide them significance; that significance is inevitably altered when transferred to another jurisdiction. [6] As a result, a rule’s definitional content, rooted in its nation or culture of origin, cannot be separated from the rule itself, rendering successful transplantation unviable.[7] Postcolonial theorists, such as Teemu Ruskola, deepen this critique further by challenging the “Western and Non-Western” dichotomy through their framework of hybridism and legal modernities in postcolonial contexts. He illustrates that hybrid legal modernities emerge when imported legal ideals struggle to coexist and merge with indigenous norms.[8] Similarly, Brian Tamanaha’s theoretical examination of legal pluralism demonstrates that where multiple normative orders may superficially appear to exist in a legal framework, a singular dominant regime usually takes precedence in practice.[9]
Turning to Legal Positivism, positivists such as H.L.A. Hart assert that the legitimacy of law is grounded in social realities rather than ethical or normative considerations. From this standpoint, legal rules are considered valid if enacted by a legitimate authority and accepted by society, irrespective of their moral content. [10] Under this paradigm, law is conceptualised as a self-standing social construct, distinct from morality or ethical evaluation, and more commonly associated with the formal structures of secular legal systems.[11]
By contrast, Al-Fiqh-Al-Islami (a transliteration of ‘Islamic Jurisprudence’) derives its authority from divine revelation.[12] As Oussama Arabi emphasises, the ‘sacred law’ constitutes a comprehensive moral and legal framework that governs individual and collective behaviour and, where codified as state law, functions as a living legal reality in Muslim societies.[13] Unlike positivist theory, which separates law from morality, Islamic Jurisprudence treats the two as inherently intertwined.[14]
This article demonstrates how Egypt’s adoption of European legal codes and the subsequent statutory codification of Islamic Jurisprudence have steered the modern legal system toward positivism, effectively disconnecting the law from its ethical, pluralistic and moral foundations in Islamic Jurisprudence. Framed through a critical comparative law approach, this analysis navigates insights from foundational thinkers such as Watson and Legrand alongside contemporary debates concerning legal vernacularisation and the pluralistic nature of law in Muslim-majority jurisdictions.
Colonial Legal Transplants and Legal Dualism in Egypt
Egypt’s legal transformation began under the French occupation (1798–1805) and accelerated under the British protectorate (1882–1952), resulting in the wholesale adoption of European legal codes – most notably the Commercial Code of 1850, Penal Code of 1858, and Mixed Courts Code of 1876. [15] These reforms centralised judicial authority and standardised procedure under positivist structures, replacing the flexibility of classical Shariʿa, which had operated through decentralised Qadi courts and pluralistic customary norms. The Mixed Courts (1876-1949) created legal dualism: the European-derived codes governed commercial and criminal matters, whilst Shari’a Jurisprudence was reduced to personal status issues. [16] This entrenched a positivist framework that subordinated Islamic Jurisprudence to a marginal role in the legal system.
Following independence and the dissolution of the dualistic system in 1955, Egypt maintained a civil law framework heavily influenced by French and British precedents, institutionalising legal positivism within its postcolonial constitutions.[17] The 1956 constitution and successive codifications of personal status law further solidified this orientation, even though Article 2 of the 1971 constitution initially recognised Islamic Shariʿa as ’a’ source of legislation, relegated to merely one among several sources. The 1980 amendment changed this to ‘the principal source.’ Yet this nominal reform has failed to transform the system’s positivist structure. This colonial legacy has perpetuated tensions between statutory law and the ethical, normative pluralism that underpins Islamic law – an unresolved rift that continues to shape Egypt’s legal landscape.[18]
Section 1: Codification and the Egyptian Constitution
Colonial Codification (1883-1923)
In 1883, Egyptian lawmakers acknowledged that Islamic Jurisprudence was neither systematic nor categorised coherently – an issue that Orientalists such as Snouck Hurgonje, Ignaz Goldziher, and Joseph Schacht attributed to inadequacies embedded within the legal framework and its foundational principles. [19] Instead of strengthening the preexisting Shari’a system, they adopted the Western ideal of codification. Scholars interpret this decision as not merely administrative, but a calculated act of epistemic domination rooted in colonial ideology aimed at displacing Indigenous legal knowledge. Tariq Al-Bishri attributes this shift to European coercion and the Egyptian elites’ adoption of Western models of legal modernity.[20] Colonial intervention established a fragmented legal landscape in which transplanted European statutory frameworks operated alongside, yet in tension with, Indigenous Islamic and customary legal traditions. As Teemu Ruskola explains, such hybrid orders blur the boundaries between “Western” and “non-Western” legal forms, creating uniquely hybrid modernities that defy simple categorisation.[21]
The 1923 Constitution and Article 2
The culmination of this process was the 1923 Egyptian constitution,[22] which centralised judicial authority, extended state power, and established positivist principles as markers of “rule of law.” [23] Nonetheless, Article 2 – which was first included in the 1971 constitution and preserved in 2014 – declares that “the principles of Islamic Shariʿa are the principal source of legislation,” a stipulation whose practical significance has primarily been symbolic. [24] This superficial recognition is consistent with Brian Tamanaha’s reasoning that even though a statute may refer to multiple legal sources, it often masks the reality that it operates in practice as an exclusive, unitary, state-enforced regime.[25]
ESCC Practice and Jurisprudence
Having outlined the constitutional framework, we turn to its judicial application. The Egyptian Supreme Constitutional Court (ESCC) has consistently demonstrated judicial deference, with the Court avoiding constitutional challenges to civil code provisions based on Islamic principles. The Court frequently cites concepts of public welfare (Maslahah) and public interest (Istislah), following Muhammad Abduh’s interpretations, to uphold existing legislation. Commentators contend that such judicial self-restraint prioritises state objectives over communal ethical obligations, resulting in legal inconsistencies and allegations of governance malfeasance.[26] For instance, in ESCC Decision 1/2014, the Court held: “Judicial intervention would undermine legislative supremacy in matters of public welfare,” and thus declined to strike down Civil Code article 17.[27] This selective application of Shariʿa illustrates the pluralistic dynamics Brian Tamanaha describes, where the state utilises overlapping normative orders when useful, but a dominant positivist framework persists.[28] Clark Lombardi criticises the ESCC’s employment of Neo‑Taqlid (the rigid application of classical juristic rulings) and Neo‑Ijtihad (pragmatic adaptations of traditional doctrines ) to broaden its interpretive reach,[29] as this approach dilutes Fiqh’s ethical core and underscores the disconnection between modern statutes and Islamic moral principles.[30]
Recent scholarship observes a selective, state-sanctioned invocation of Islamic principles in judicial practice, which Mohammad Fadel characterises as institutional consolidation at the expense of moral integrity.[31] This reflects Clark Lombardi’s concept of “pragmatic Islamic constitutionalism,” wherein Shariʿa is reshaped to further state interests over societal ethics, reinforcing Islamic law’s subjugation to a positivist legal regime.[32]
Post-2014 Constitutional Amendments
Although the 2014 Constitution reaffirmed Article 2, its practical enforcement has been largely nominal. The removal of Article 4 (previously included in the 2012 Constitution) means Al-Azhar is no longer designated as an advisory body on Shariʿa matters, revealing the state’s strategy of appropriating Islamic legitimacy without empowering traditional juristic authorities.[33] This echoes Teemu Ruskola’s hybridism modernities theory, which holds that formal inclusion of plural authorities often serves state consolidation rather than genuine power‑sharing.[34]
Shari’a Flexibility vs. Codification
Shariʿa has traditionally been renowned for its procedural and substantive flexibility, facilitated by Ijtihad (independent reasoning), the Sunnah (Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) teachings), Ijma’ (scholarly consensus), and Qiyas (analogy).[35] This methodological diversity flourished within the four major Sunni schools of jurisprudence (Hanafi, Shafi’i, Maliki, and Hanbali). [36] However, contemporary codification anchors Egypt’s personal status laws exclusively in the Hanafi school, restricting access to Fatwā shopping and constraining the benefits of interpretive plurality.[37] Although codification integrated Muslim legal principles into a positivist framework, it displaced essential norms like Ikhtilāf (juristic difference), exacerbating social inequities and severing law from its ethical foundations.[38]
The impact of legal transplantation becomes particularly evident when examining the transformation of family law and women’s rights, where the contrast between pre-colonial flexibility and post-colonial rigidity is stark.
Section 2: Colonial Legal Transplantation and Its Impact on Egyptian Women’s Family Rights
Premodern Pluralism under the Qadi
In premodern Egypt, the Qadi (judge) derived law through Ijtihad from the Usul-Al‑Fiqh rather than fixed state-legislated codes, drawing on the Sunnah, Ijma’ and Qiyas. Court records show Qadis applying gender-neutral standards – granting women mahr, maintenance, and divorce on grounds of harm or contract breach – thereby upholding contract sanctity and protecting vulnerable parties.[39] The Qadis considered litigants’ social circumstances – male or female, husband or wife – and made juristic rulings accordingly, ensuring gender did not impede equitable justice.[40] Moreover, the absence of rigid codification enabled women to stipulate and negotiate provisions within their marriage contracts, such as polygamy, Mahr (dowry), and Talaq’ (divorce), to safeguard their rights and liberties, demonstrating a flexibility that the rigid codification system would ultimately sacrifice.[41]
Patriarchal Transplants under Colonial Codification
Egypt’s reforms after colonialism replaced most uncodified Fiqh with new laws; however, the Islamic rules on family were mainly left intact through the implementation of ‘Qanun Al-Ahwal Al-Shakhsiyya’ (Personal Status Law).[42] Nathan Brown contended that it was an area of law that could be ‘clearly and easily codified.’ [43] These reforms effectively secularised and privatised religious norms, ensuring that any attempt to amend personal status statutes would be framed as an attack on Islam’s fundamental principles.[44] Consequently, family law became statutorily sanctified, which restricted legislative adaptability and entrenched patriarchal values within a positivist framework.[45]
Under French influence, the Napoleonic Code of 1804 was imported, which indoctrinated patriarchy by establishing male dominance and female subordination in a marital relationship, based on biological differences, that the husband is the legal head, manages the family’s finances. Therefore, his rights can override those of his spouse and offspring.[46] Although the Al‑Sanhuri code of 1949 replaced Napoleonic rules, its harmful patriarchal elements persisted. It mirrored Occidental models, disregarding substantive Islamic ethics, and reflected Teemu Ruskola’s semi-peripheral hybrid modernity.[47]
Bayt Al-Ta’a
A particularly stark transplant was the Bayt Al‑Ta’a (“House of Obedience”), codified in 1920 to discipline “disobedient” wives.[48] Grounded in gender reciprocity, husbands were expected to provide mahr or maintenance in exchange for their wives’ obedience. This mechanism was initially subject to negotiation in premodern contracts, permitting repudiation if a wife did not comply with her husband’s expectations.[49] In a court case, a wife fleeing abuse was forcibly returned to her marital home at her husband’s request or face police action, a clear violation of Sharia’s contractual ethos. [50] Leila Ahmed condemns Bayt Al‑Ta’a as a “Western‑style enforcement of obedience” devoid of any Qur’anic or Sunnah basis, effectively incorporating British coverture and eroding Islam’s moral foundations.[51]
Shrinking Divorce Rights
Building on colonial family law reforms, Egypt’s divorce regime has transitioned from an expansive, pluralistic, discretionary Ijtihad model to a strict, procedural model that systematically disadvantages women. [52] In the classical era, a Qadi who relied on Ijtihad, Usul‑Al‑Fiqh, and Qur’anic tenets could neither compel couples to remain married nor question a woman’s reasons for seeking divorce. Instead, they issued Talaq’ or Khul’ on clear instances of contractual breach or evident harm. [53] Historical records from the classical period show that the Qadi frequently granted women’s petitions for divorce in exchange for a nominal amount of compensation, often yielding favourable outcomes.[54] Thus, this illustrates a form of living pluralism underpinned by Tamanaha’s concept of overlapping legal frameworks. This practice is based on ijma among the Fuqaha’, reinforced by the Qur’an verse 2:229, which infers that neither party is to blame if she exchanges compensation (her mahr/ dowery) for her freedom.[55]
While this classical system provided significant protections, the traditional framework’s true strength lay in its doctrinal flexibility. All four Sunni Madhabs (schools of thought) acknowledge Darar (harm) broadly as a valid reason for divorce. Maliki jurists extended Darar liberally to include economic neglect or mental cruelty. In contrast, Hanafi authorities adopted a more conservative approach and required more concrete proof of physical injury.[56] However, neither excluded severe mistreatment.[57] This doctrinal flexibility empowered Qadi to tailor justice to individual circumstances.
However, twentieth-century codification dramatically restricted this flexibility. Modern personal‑status codes of 1929 and 1949 fused these divergent madhhab doctrines into a single, positivist statute that entrenched unequal rights to divorce and discriminatory rights against women. This eclectic codification narrowed darār so strictly that domestic violence is no longer explicitly listed, despite Qur’an 4:34’s disciplinary rationale and classical juristic reasoning, forcing victims to argue by analogy rather than through statutory protections.[58] Consequently, victims today confront multiple hearings, conflicting statutory provisions, and an onerous burden of proof that transforms courts from sanctuaries of relief into a procedural labyrinth. [59]
The practical impact of these restrictions manifests in two significant ways. First, a class-based double standard compounds these hurdles: Amira El‑Azhary Sonbol finds that Khul’ grant‑rates for lower-class women are significantly lower than for upper-class petitioners, indicating that Western-trained jurists acknowledge domestic‑violence grounds for khulʿ only when petitioned by upper-class women, presuming lower-class women are “accustomed” to hardship and thus undeserving of relief. [60]
Second, as demonstrated in the ESCC’s review of Article 11 of Law No. 100 of 1985, which grants wives the right to request divorce if their husbands take additional wives, the Court simultaneously declared men’s right to polygamy as “absolute” and “transcending time and space,” while upholding stringent evidentiary requirements for women seeking divorce on polygamy grounds. The Court mandated that wives must demonstrate harm that was “real, not illusory, actual, not imagined, demonstrable, not assumed” – imposing an almost impossible burden of proof. This decision highlights the Court’s inconsistent legal reasoning: utilising Islamic universalism to safeguard male prerogatives while creating procedural obstacles that essentially invalidate women’s corresponding rights.[61]
Ultimately, Egypt’s codified divorce laws have severed Talaq’ from its moral and ethical roots by subordinating substantive justice to procedural form. This subordination contradicts the Qur’anic principle in 2:228 that “Women shall have rights similar to the rights against them.”[62] As Kecia Ali argues, reviving the ethical essence of Shari’a necessitates a renewed perspective on ijtihad that accepts pluralism, re-integrating discretionary justice, fully reinstating Darar and empowering diverse court panels consisting of jurists and Shari’a scholars to practice compassion in line with Islam’s living jurisprudential tradition.[63]
Concluding remarks
Egypt’s experience with transplanted colonial law illustrates the significant impact of replacing pluralistic ethical approaches with formalistic procedures. The evidence examined – from classical era court records to contemporary ESCC rulings – demonstrates how codification has fundamentally altered the nature of Islamic jurisprudence, particularly in personal status law. This transformation extends beyond mere procedural change; it represents a systematic recasting of Islamic legal principles through a positivist lens that privileges form over substance.
This transformation manifests most clearly in family law, particularly divorce rights. Where Qadi courts once provided flexible, context-sensitive adjudication grounded in Islamic ethical principles, today’s courts enforce rigid procedural barriers that disproportionately burden vulnerable litigants. The ESCC’s contradictory rulings on polygamy and khulʿ exemplify how imported positivist structures have created a system that simultaneously invokes Islamic authenticity while undermining its ethical foundations.
These findings challenge prevailing assumptions about legal modernisation in postcolonial contexts. Rather than representing progress, Egypt’s experience suggests that legal transplantation can entrench new forms of inequality when procedural reforms disconnect law from its moral foundations. The class-based application of personal status laws further reveals how colonial legal structures perpetuate social hierarchies under the guise of procedural neutrality.
Meaningful reform in constitutional texts requires more than superficial references to Shari’a. Revitalising Islamic legal principles requires reevaluating the relationship between procedure and substance, along with ethics and law. This might entail empowering courts to exercise greater discretion, reinstating interpretive plurality across madhhabs, and developing new mechanisms for incorporating Islamic ethical principles into modern legal frameworks. Such reforms could help bridge the growing divide between procedural justice and substantive fairness in Egyptian personal status law.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Primary Sources
Cases:
Supreme Constitutional Court of Egypt, Decision No 1/2014 (15 March 2014)
Legislation:
Egyptian Legislation:
Commercial Code 1850
Penal Code 1858
Mixed Courts Code 1876
Egyptian Law of Personal Status 1920
Egyptian Law of Personal Status 1929
Egyptian Law of Personal Status 1949
Egyptian Constitution 1923
Egyptian Constitution 1971
Egyptian Constitution 1980
Egyptian Constitution 2014
Foreign Legislation:
French Napoleonic Code 1804
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The Qur’an
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Alshorbagy AA, ‘On the Failure of a Legal Transplant: The Case of Egyptian Takeover Law’ (2012) 2 Indiana International & Comparative Law Review 237
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Fadel M, ‘Judicial Institutions, the Legitimacy of Islamic State Law and Democratic Transition in Egypt: Can a Shift toward a Common Law Model of Adjudication Improve the Prospects of a Successful Democratic Transition?’ (2013) 11 International Journal of Constitutional Law 646
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Hinchcliffe D, ‘Divorce in the Muslim World’ (2000) International Family Law 63
Legrand P, ‘The Impossibility of “Legal Transplants”‘ (1997) 4 Maastricht Journal of European and Comparative Law 111
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Ruskola T, ‘Legal Orientalism’ (2002) 101 Michigan Law Review 179
Siems M, ‘Malicious Legal Transplants’ (2018) 38 Legal Studies 103
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El Roby M, ‘The Codification of Muslim Personal Status Laws: A Blessing or a Curse?’ (2013) https://www.culturaldiplomacy.org/academy/content/pdf/participant-papers/2013-05-iscd-hr/Mona_el_Roby.pdf accessed 1 January 2023
Kalantry S, ‘Reverse Legal Transplants’ (2020) https://scholarship.law.unc.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=6814&context=nclr accessed 18 July 2024
Sonbol AE-A, ‘The Genesis of Family Law: How Shari’ah Custom and Colonial Laws Influenced the Development of Personal Status Codes’ https://arabic.musawah.org/sites/default/files/Wanted-AEAS-EN-2ed.pdf accessed 21 July 2025
[1] Alan Watson, ‘From Legal Transplants to Legal Formats’ [1995] 43 American Journal of Comparative Law 469, 21.
[2] Ibid
[3] Sital Kalantry, ‘Reverse Legal Transplants’ (12 January 2020) 60 https://scholarship.law.unc.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=6814&context=nclr accessed 18 July 2025
[4] Mathias Siems, ‘Malicious Legal Transplants’ [2018] 38 Legal Studies 1.
[5] Ahmad A Alshorbagy, ‘On the Failure of a Legal Transplant: The Case of Egyptian Takeover Law’ (2012) 2 Indiana International & Comparative Law Review 237
[6] Pierre Legrand, ‘The Impossibility of “Legal Transplants”‘ [1997] 4 MJ 111,123-124
[7] Ibid
[8] Teemu Ruskola, ‘Legal Orientalism’ [2002] 101 Michigan Law Review 179, 182-185
[9] Brian Z Tamanaha, Legal Pluralism Explained: History, Theory, Context (Oxford University Press 2021) 4–6
[10] HLA Hart, ‘Positivism and the Separation of Law and Morals’ [1958] 71 Harvard Law Review 593, 601-602
[11] Ibid
[12] Joseph Schacht, An Introduction to Islamic Law (Clarendon Press 1982) 1.
[13] Baudouin Dupret, ‘What Is Islamic Law?: A Praxiological Answer and an Egyptian Case Study’ (2007) 24(2) Theory, Culture & Society 79, 80, citing Oussama Arabi, Studies in Modern Islamic Law and Jurisprudence (Arab and Islamic Laws Series, vol 21, Brill 2001)
[14] Sri Wahyuni, ‘Legal Transplant: Influence of the Western Legal System in the Muslim Countries’ [2022] 19 Justicia Islamica 23
[15] Egyptian Commercial Code 1850; Egyptian Penal Code 1858; Egyptian Mixed Court Code 1876; Talal Asad, ‘Reconfigurations of Law and Ethics in Colonial Egypt’ in Talal Asad, Formations of the Secular: Christianity, Islam, Modernity (Stanford University Press 2003) 210
[16] JND Anderson, Law Reform in Egypt: 1850–1950 (Oxford University Press 1968) 217-224
[17] Mohammad Fadel, ‘Judicial Institutions, the Legitimacy of Islamic State Law and Democratic Transition in Egypt: Can a Shift toward a Common Law Model of Adjudication Improve the Prospects of a Successful Democratic Transition?’ (2013) 11 International Journal of Constitutional Law 646, 646-665
[18] Egyptian Constitution 1956; Egyptian Constitution 1971, art 2; Egyptian Constitution 1980 (amendment), art 2; Nathan J Brown, Constitutions in a Nonconstitutional World: Arab Basic Laws and the Prospects for Accountable Government (SUNY Press 2002) 78–85
[19] Asad (n16) 213
[20] Asad (n16) 212.
[21] Ruskola (n9) 182-185
[22] Egyptian Constitution 1923
[23] Brown (n19)
[24] Egyptian Constitution 1971 art 2; Egyptian Constitution 2014 art 2; Brown (n19)
[25] Tamanaha (n10)
[26] Fadel (n18) 646
[27] Supreme Constitutional Court of Egypt, Decision no 1/2014 (15 March 2014)
[28] Tamanaha (n10)
[29] Clark B Lombardi, State Law as Islamic Law in Modern Egypt: The Incorporation of the Sharī’a into Egyptian Constitutional Law, vol 19 (Brill 2006) 78-99
[30] Ibid
[31] Mohammad Fadel, ‘Islamic Constitutionalism and the Challenge of Judicial Review: The Case of Egypt’ (2018) 16(4) International Journal of Constitutional Law 1019
[32] Lombardi (n30) 148-150
[33] Egyptian Constitution 2014, art 2; Egyptian Constitution 2012, art 4; Fadel (n32) 1032
[34] Ruskola (n9)
[35] GF Hourani, ‘The Basis of Authority of Consensus in Sunnite Islam’ in George F Hourani, Reason and Tradition in Islamic Ethics (CUP 1985) 190-226
[36] Mashood A Baderin, Islamic Law: A Very Short Introduction (OUP 2021)
[37] Baber Johansen, Contingency in a Sacred Law: Legal and Ethical Norms in the Muslim Fiqh (Studies in Islamic Law and Society, vol 7, Brill 1999) 65-66
[38] Ibid
[39] Amira El-Azhary Sonbol, ‘The Genesis of Family Law: How Shari’ah Custom and Colonial Laws Influenced the Development of Personal Status Codes’ 184 https://arabic.musawah.org/sites/default/files/Wanted-AEAS-EN-2ed.pdf accessed 21 July 2025
[40] Amira El-Azhary Sonbol, Women, the Family, and Divorce Laws in Islamic History (Syracuse Univ Press 2007) 278
[41] Ibid
[42] Lama Abu-Odeh, ‘Modernizing Muslim Family Law: The Case of Egypt’ (2004) 37 Vand J Transnat’l L 1045; Anderson (n17) 209,217-224
[43] Brown (n19) 227
[44] Sonbol (n40) 179
[45] Sonbol (n41) 278
[46] Judith Surkis, Sexing the Citizen: Morality and Masculinity in France, 1870-1920 (Cornell University Press 2006) 22-25
[47] Brown (n19) 364; Ruskola (n10) 183-185
[48] Law No.25 of 1920
[49] Sonbol (n41) 196: Kecia Ali, Marriage and Slavery in Early Islam (Harvard University Press 2010) 89-91
[50] Ibid
[51] Leila Ahmed, Women and Gender in Islam: Historical Roots of a Modern Debate (Yale University Press 1992) 112-15
[52] Sonbol (n40) 194
[53] Sonbol (n40) 183
[54] Sonbol (n41)
[55] Quran; Amira Mashhour, ‘Islamic Law and Gender Equality: Could There Be a Common Ground?: A Study of Divorce and Polygamy in Sharia Law and Contemporary Legislation in Tunisia and Egypt’ (2005) 27 Human Rights Quarterly 578
[56] Doreen Hinchcliffe, ‘Divorce in the Muslim World’ (2000) International Family Law 63-65
[57] Ibid
[58] Quran; Brown (n19) 360-364; Lombardi (n30) 94-99; (Mona El Roby, ‘The Codification of Muslim Personal Status Laws: A Blessing or a Curse?’ (2013) https://www.culturaldiplomacy.org/academy/content/pdf/participant-papers/2013-05-iscd-hr/Mona_el_Roby.pdf accessed 22 July 2025
[59] Ibid
[60] Sonbol (n41)
[61] Abu-Odeh (n43) 1142-1144
[62] Quran 2:228
[63] Kecia Ali, Marriage and Slavery in Early Islam (Harvard 2010) 56–58; Sonbol AEA, Women, the Family, and Divorce Laws in Islamic History (Syracuse 2020) 50
