Did Abdullah Hashem Found A Cult?

What is religion, really?

At its root, it is a story. The story of a man, a message, and a mission. It is the seed of a people who choose to live differently. And before it becomes cathedrals, masjids, scripture, or tradition, it begins as a group often misunderstood. Marginal. Radical. Cultish.

To understand our present—and our future—we need to revisit how religion begins, how cults are defined, and why the labels we use matter more than we think.

Understanding the Origins of Religion

Every religion in history started with confrontation—with the dominant narrative, with power, with accepted norms. It often began with one man claiming to be sent by God, asking people to follow him.

Jesus and his disciples were not mainstream. They were ridiculed, hunted, and eventually martyred. Yet today, Christianity stands as the world’s largest religion. Its very beginning was, by modern definitions, that of a "cult." This is not an anomaly—it’s a pattern.

Before cathedrals rose and crosses crowned the skyline, Christianity began as a fringe group. A handful of Jewish followers in the 1st century broke away from the religious and political mainstream of their time. They obeyed the teachings of a man—Jesus of Nazareth—who claimed to be sent by God. They followed him not for social gain or safety, but in spite of persecution. Rome saw them as a threat. Jewish authorities saw them as heretics. Society saw them as dangerous.

They lived communally. They shared resources. They endured ridicule, imprisonment, and even death. They were called madmen, traitors, rebels—cultists. And yet, they sparked one of the world’s largest religions.

Then they secretly persuaded some men to say, “We have heard Stephen speak blasphemous words against Moses and against God.” So they stirred up the people and the elders and the teachers of the law. They seized Stephen and brought him before the Sanhedrin. They produced false witnesses, who testified, “This fellow never stops speaking against this holy place and against the law.” (Acts 6:11–13)

This is not an exception. It’s the rule. Every true religion, at its beginning, is non-conforming. It disturbs the status quo. It calls people to obedience—not to an institution, but to a messenger. Always a man. Always controversial. Always misunderstood.

And every true messenger of God has something else in common: divine appointment that necessitates obedience.

Cults: A Loaded Term with Historical Weight

The term cult today is mostly used pejoratively, stripped of its academic precision. It is applied loosely to political movements, celebrity fanbases, and religious groups alike. But sociologically, a cult is simply a new religious movement (NRM) that has not yet gained mainstream acceptance.

Historically, these groups were critical to forming the moral frameworks we rely on today. From early Christians to revolutionary religious leaders, many began as "cults" in the eyes of their contemporaries.

The tragedy is that calling something a cult often functions to deny that group its agency, demonizing them before understanding them. We must ask: is the layperson’s perspective sufficient to judge what is a cult and what is a religion? If not, then what standards should we use?

What do David Koresh, Taylor Swift, and Donald Trump have in common? If you ask the media, they all inspire cult-like devotion. From the Branch Davidians to QAnon to adoring fanbases chanting lyrics at concerts, the term cult has drifted far from its academic roots—and into a realm of suspicion, mockery, and fear.

But what exactly is a cult, and when does it stop being one? Is the label about danger—or just about being different? To answer that, we need to dig deep—not just into modern movements, but into history itself.

Before we equate all new groups with danger, let’s examine the spectrum of what gets called a 'cult' today.

Let’s look at examples:

● David Koresh and the Branch Davidians: An isolated sect that ended in a tragic confrontation in Waco, Texas.

● QAnon: A political movement with a “messianic” figure, coded language, and deep distrust in institutions.

● “Swifties”: Fans of Taylor Swift who build identity, ritual, and community around a pop star’s life and work.

Then compare that to:

● Jesus and his disciples: A group accused of blasphemy and political rebellion, persecuted for claiming obedience to one man who said he was sent by God.

Are these examples truly equivalent?

New Religious Movements vs. Destructive Cults

Sociologists categorize fringe groups under a more refined system:

1. New Religious Movements (NRMs): Often new, small, and non-mainstream. They may be based on new revelations or reinterpretations of older ones.

2. Destructive Cults: Groups that employ coercion, suppress dissent, isolate members, and are built around authoritarian control.

3. Established Religions: Once-rebellious movements that, over time, become institutions.

The key is not numbers. It’s ethics, structure, and transparency.

It is often assumed that dangerous behavior is exclusive to fringe groups. But is that true?

Today, many mainstream Christians and Muslims are reacting with violent hostility to Abdullah Hashem Aba Al-Sadiq, the Qaim and spiritual leader of the Ahmadi Religion of Peace and Light. They send hate messages, spread lies, incite violence—and yet, they claim to follow Jesus and Mohammed. Their abuse is often not random but fueled by scholars—the clerics and preachers who hold positions of religious authority. These so-called representatives of God not only fail to condemn these actions—they often encourage them, directly or indirectly.

And so we ask: Isn’t this cultish? To hate a man they’ve never met, based on no reasonable argument, simply because their leaders told them to—this is the very definition of blind, dogmatic obedience. It mirrors the very cult dynamics they accuse others of. The difference is that their numbers protect them from the label.

At the heart of every authentic faith is a claim: That a messenger has been sent by God. This brings us to the critical difference—the concept of divine appointment.

From Moses to Jesus to Mohammed, no prophet emerged without being appointed. They weren’t self-made mystics—they were named and foretold by their predecessors. Moses named Joshua. Jesus foretold the Paraclete. The Prophet Mohammed left clear instructions regarding his successors.

This is how believers identify authenticity—not through charisma, but through a written will, prophecy, and divine appointment.

Jesus said in the Gospel of John:

“When the Comforter comes, whom I will send to you from the Father... he will testify about me.” (Bible, Book of John, Chapter 15, Verse 26)

That Comforter or Paraclete was a figure to come after Jesus—sent, not self-declared.

This is the tradition we inherit in the Ahmadi Religion of Peace and Light. We believe in Imam Ahmed Al-Hassan, whose appearance in 2011 was discovered by Abdullah Hashem Aba Al-Sadiq—our teacher and guide, who never proclaimed himself as anything other than a witness to that divine appointment.

Obedience and Divine Appointment

Obedience is a taboo word in modern life. But in every religious tradition, it is the essence of faith. Noah called his people to obey. So did Moses. So did Jesus. So did Mohammed. Not because they were tyrants, but because they were messengers of God—and their words were not their own.

"Love the Lord your God and keep his requirements, his decrees, his laws and his commands always." (2. Deuteronomy 11:1)

But how can you know a messenger is truly from God?

The answer is both spiritual and structural. It lies in the concept of divine appointment—the idea that a messenger is not self-proclaimed, but chosen by God and named by a predecessor. In Judaism, prophets often validated the ones after them. In Christianity, Jesus declared John the Baptist as the forerunner. In Islam, Prophet Mohammed described the line of successors from his family.

No legitimate faith begins in a vacuum. The pattern is always the same: the one sent by God is announced, known, and recognized by those who have the eyes to see. And therefore, the individual must be obeyed, in order that we be obedient to the God who sent him.

Cults vs. New Religions: The Critical Differences

Now, back to the comparison: Sociologists identify several signs that typically define destructive cults: suppression of questions, censorship of external information, emotional manipulation, and authoritarian control. Let’s contrast that with our own movement.

The Call of Imam Mahdi began a little over a decade ago with Abdullah Hashem, known as Aba Al-Sadiq. What makes him stand apart from cult leaders is not just what he teaches—but how he teaches.

He is transparent. He welcomes sincere questioning. Every day, Aba Al-Sadiq receives a multitude of questions to answer, not just from believers in this religion but also sincere truth seekers and those who see him as a source of spiritual guidance, despite the fact that they have not yet pledged allegiance. He insists that no book, article, or video is off-limits. His followers are encouraged to explore, to read critical texts, to ask the hardest questions. As for censorship, there are no banned books in our religion. There is no information control—because truth does not fear scrutiny.

In the words of Aba Al-Sadiq…

"And so we believe that just because there are manuscripts, historical writings, that the main body of Christians have left out or they don't recognize or they don't acknowledge, does not mean that it is false. And we as believers have an obligation to never deny anything that we hear attributed to a prophet or a messenger or an Imam or a guide, that comes from God, unless we read the context of it and the content of it, unless it is blatantly going against something which we know to be true, then we cannot deny it."

Cults are anti-transparency. They isolate, censor, and manipulate. We are the opposite. Aba Al-Sadiq encourages open conversation, critical questioning, and insists that no book or idea be forbidden. We’re open to reading everything, even critiques of our own beliefs. Because truth, he teaches, only shines brighter under scrutiny. This alone should disqualify us from the label of a destructive cult.

Divine appointment is not archaic. It still forms the basis of many religious states today:

● Britain: The monarchy’s legitimacy is rooted in divine right.

● The Vatican: A state ruled by a divinely appointed Pope.

We believe our state-to-be is no different—except that it begins as a community of equals, bonded by faith in the divine and service to each other.

The goal of our community is not merely belief. It is to build a new kind of society: A Divine Just State.  This state stands on principles laid out in all sacred traditions:

● Wealth distributed equitably

● Religious freedom guaranteed

● Inclusion as a right, not a privilege

● Opting out respected

● Human needs—housing, food, healthcare—as sacred rights

But it starts within us—in how we live now, in our commune, with shared responsibility and mutual love. We work, eat, cry, and grow together. We are doctors, engineers, students, and artists. We left comfortable lives not out of fear—but out of conviction. We are not prisoners. We are free people who chose this path.

I was once a Shia Muslim from Pakistan. I moved to the UK. I studied, I lived freely—but something inside me ached. When I found this movement, I found the truth. I found peace.

In 2011, the appearance of Imam Ahmed Al-Hassan—the prophesied savior—was discovered by Aba Al-Sadiq. That discovery sent shockwaves through a scattered group of seekers around the world, drawing us together to Egypt.

I was 18 when I left everything I knew. I had grown up a Twelver Shia in Pakistan, then moved to the UK with my family. I had freedom, education, comfort—but not peace. So I left.

In Egypt, we lived like the earliest followers of Jesus—sharing food, shelter, and tears. We became a family. We became a reflection of Abdullah Hashem’s spirit. From Egypt, we traveled to Germany, then Sweden, and finally, to our own headquarters here in the United Kingdom.

We grew. And we remained free. Free to leave. Free to stay. Free to believe or not.

We are doctors, engineers, artists, students. We didn’t lose control of our lives—we took it back, to live by divine guidance.

So what are we? Are we a cult just because we are small? The fact is, tens of thousands of people identify across the world as being members of our religion.

Because we are new? Our existence is based on age-old prophecies.

Because we follow a man we believe was appointed by God? But weren’t all prophets and messengers appointed by God?

Or are we—like the Christians of the 1st century, or the Muslims of 7th century Arabia—the beginning of something sacred?

We believe in Eden. In the Kingdom of God. In the promise made by Jesus, fulfilled through a chain of messengers reaching into our time. We believe that we are the continuation of a divine pattern, not the invention of a charismatic man.

Aba Al-Sadiq didn’t declare himself. He was appointed. He was named. Just as Moses named Joshua, Jesus foretold the Paraclete, and Muhammad left guidance through the names of his family.

This is how every true religion began.

This is not a closed community. Our doors are open. Our books are open. Our leader is open. If you want to know who we are, come see.

Ask us questions. Challenge our beliefs. Speak with Aba Al-Sadiq himself. We don’t ask for blind faith—we ask for sincere engagement. Because we believe that truth is like light: it only grows stronger when exposed.