After the prophet Muhammed died in 632, the Islamic community chose a caliph to lead the faithful. That institution lasted almost 1,300 years until it was abolished in 1924. Since that time, no mainstream Muslim held the position until June 29, when the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria re-established the caliphate, to the alarm of governments worldwide. But a look at recent history should quiet those fears, particularly if we consider just why has there been no caliph since the 1920s.

From the 16th century, the caliphate was held by the sultan of the Ottoman Empire, then a mighty superpower. But defeat in World War I ruined the empire. The successor state, Turkey, adopted secular policies. That war also discredited the whole idea of the caliphate as a valuable political institution. In 1914, the sultan-caliph commanded Muslims worldwide to rise against their Western imperial masters, orders that were almost universally ignored. Ten years later, the Turkish government abolished the caliphate, sending the last incumbent into exile.

Turkey, of course, did not control the whole Islamic world, so it seemed all but certain that some prominent Muslim leader would become caliph. But at that point, the Islamic world faced a situation that ISIS will soon confront. When one family or regime has held the caliphate for centuries, generation after generation, people become thoroughly used to that idea and see no potential for changing it. When the office is detached from that familiar setting, when it is in free play, the caliphate attracts multiple contenders, who are desperate to prevent rivals from laying hands on it. Many would rather see the position empty than filled by an enemy.

So who has a plausible claim to declare himself caliph? At one time, control of Mecca and Medina’s holy places was key. In 1924, the sharif of Meccaproclaimed himself caliph. But that helped provoke his ruin, galvanizing rivals to act. Hussein was defeated by the family headed by Ibn Saud, who went on to create the kingdom of Saudi Arabia. Then as now, the Saudis’ control of the holy places gives them the best claim on the caliphate, although modern rulers have expressed no interest. If ISIS grows in power, that might change.

If the Turks did not want the post, might the next caliph come from a totally non-traditional background, not from an established dynasty? That would mean opening the job to an undignified scramble by ambitious seekers, much as occurred in the post-1924 era. Ibn Saud advanced his case, and so did Muhammad Amin al-Husayni, Jerusalem’s grand mufti, later a Nazi ally.

The problem was that they no longer lived in a simple world of kings and dynasts. Mass movements and pressure groups had emerged around the Islamic world. Clergy, intellectuals and political activists all claimed a right to be heard. In a dawning age of mass global communication, different factions could debate and plot with others thousands of miles away. Egyptians plotted with Indians, Algerians with Palestinians. It was simply not possible to build a consensus on what the restored caliphate should look like, never mind who should be caliph.

Those debates culminated in 1931, when the grand mufti allied with the leader of India’s Caliphate Committee to hold a World Islamic Congress in Jerusalem, drawing representatives from more than 20 nations. No new caliph emerged from this cacophony of competing voices, and that event was until recently believed to mark the end of the story.

It is not difficult to see why ISIS revived the caliphate. The extremist group wants to provide a visible symbol of unity for the world’s Muslims, whom they define in very strict terms. If you do not agree with ISIS, then you are simply not a Muslim.

Their problem is that by bringing the caliphate back into play, ISIS will certainly inspire others to make similar claims. Already, ISIS is literally at daggers drawn with al-Qaida and other Islamists. Even before ISIS made its claim, extremists of different stripes were crucifying each other in Iraq and Syria. ISIS has vastly raised the stakes and conceivably made itself a target for some fanatical and well-armed enemies.

As ISIS should have known, proclaiming the caliphate might be the very worst thing it could have done.

Philip Jenkins, author of “The Great and Holy War: How World War I Became a Religious Crusade,” is co-director of the Program on Historical Studies of Religion at Baylor University.

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