An American Muslim, a Rhodes Scholar, a public health reformer, and a politician who refused to let prejudice define his future.
By Dr Dan | Dunia Mendan | 11 November 2026
And then there are individuals who capture our attention long before they become politicians, simply because of the way they think, speak and understand the world.
For me, Dr Abdul El-Sayed belongs to that third category.
I have been following his journey since watching his commencement address at the University of Michigan in 2007. He was then a young graduate, not yet a physician, a Rhodes Scholar, or a serious contender for public office.
What caught my attention was not merely his eloquence. It was his intellectual confidence, his ability to connect with people and his understanding that education should mean something more than earning a qualification.
Nearly two decades later, on 3 November 2026, that same young man won one of America's most closely watched political contests.
At 42, Abdul El-Sayed defeated Republican Mike Rogers in Michigan's United States Senate election, becoming the first Muslim ever elected to the US Senate. He will take office in January 2027.
For a country where Muslim identities have too often been viewed through the lenses of security, suspicion and political controversy, this was no ordinary electoral victory.
But to understand why this achievement is remarkable, we need to go back to where my own interest in him began.
2007: The young man who impressed Bill Clinton
The year was 2007.
At the University of Michigan's commencement ceremony, a 22-year-old Abdulrahman Mohamed El-Sayed stood before thousands of graduates and their families.
Former US President Bill Clinton was the principal commencement speaker.
Yet it was this young Muslim American graduate who delivered a message about education, opportunity, belonging and the responsibility to change society.
His speech explored what he called the Michigan difference: not simply the knowledge acquired through university education, but the belief that graduates could make a difference in the world.
There was humour, intelligence and idealism. More importantly, there was conviction.
Even Bill Clinton was impressed. Clinton publicly praised the speech and later encouraged El-Sayed to consider a political career, recognising his extraordinary ability to communicate.
The young Abdul was heading towards medical school. Politics, particularly for someone with an Arabic name in post-9/11 America, seemed almost unimaginable.
I remember being struck by the larger message.
A university had produced someone who could stand before thousands and speak not just as a graduate proud of his achievements, but as a citizen conscious of his obligations to society.
As someone who has spent much of my professional life in higher education, student development and political studies, this is particularly meaningful to me.
Universities should not merely produce graduates who are employable. They should produce graduates who are intellectually courageous, socially conscious and capable of leading.
Abdul El-Sayed was already demonstrating those qualities in 2007.
And his story was only beginning.
2019: A commencement speech with a deeper purpose
Twelve years later, I was captivated again by his remarkable commencement address at the University of Michigan School of Public Health on 2 May 2019.
This time, the young graduate had become a medical doctor, epidemiologist, Rhodes Scholar and experienced public health administrator.
He had also experienced political defeat, having lost the Democratic gubernatorial primary in Michigan in 2018.
Yet his 2019 speech was not about personal disappointment.
It was about justice, inequality, privilege and the moral responsibilities of educated professionals.
He spoke about the enormous differences between his upbringing in America and the opportunities available to his cousins in Egypt.
Despite sharing family roots, their life trajectories were fundamentally different.
Why?
Not necessarily because one was more intelligent or hardworking, but because of the circumstances into which they were born.
He then drew an uncomfortable comparison between the lives of people in Egypt and those living in disadvantaged communities only a short distance from his Michigan childhood home.
His message was powerful: opportunity is not distributed equally, and education must equip us to challenge that inequality.
He also made a compelling distinction between treating illness and addressing the social conditions that cause illness in the first place.
Medicine can treat individuals. Public health can transform the circumstances in which entire communities live.
That argument resonated deeply with my own understanding of social development and public policy.
It reminded me that the real value of education is not how impressive our qualifications appear after our names, but how effectively we use our knowledge to improve the lives of others.
It also helps explain why I find El-Sayed such an interesting political personality.
His politics did not emerge from political ambition alone. They grew out of a sustained engagement with public health, structural inequality and the everyday struggles of ordinary people.
A devout Muslim raised in an extraordinarily diverse American family
One of the most fascinating aspects of Abdul El-Sayed's life is his family background.
Here is a man who identifies unapologetically as a Muslim, yet whose upbringing reflects the extraordinary diversity of American society.
His father, Mohamed El-Sayed, was an Egyptian immigrant who came to America in pursuit of education and opportunity. His biological parents separated when he was young, and Abdul grew up primarily with his father and American stepmother, Jacqueline Johnson.
Jacqueline's family has roots in Michigan going back generations. His American grandparents, Jan and Judy Johnson, are committed Presbyterians, with Judy serving as a church deacon.
They welcomed Abdul into their family when he was a small child. He even lived with them during his university years.
Imagine that family environment.
An Egyptian Muslim father. An American stepmother with deep historical roots in Michigan. Christian grandparents who embraced their Muslim grandson. Summers spent with relatives in Egypt and family gatherings around the Thanksgiving table in America.
Different religions. Different cultural traditions. Different historical experiences.
Yet one family.
In a recent interview, El-Sayed described himself as both completely American and completely ethnically Arab, seeing no contradiction between these identities.
I find this aspect of his life particularly inspiring.
In Malaysia, we often speak proudly about multiculturalism, religious tolerance and national unity.
But how often do we genuinely embrace those values beyond official speeches, festive celebrations and carefully arranged photographs?
El-Sayed's family reminds us that diversity is not something to be managed from a distance. It can be experienced, respected and celebrated within the most intimate institution of society: the family.
And importantly, growing up in such a diverse environment did not require him to abandon Islam.
He remains openly committed to his faith.
He has spoken about growing up in a devout Muslim household, his spiritual journey and how religion informs his sense of responsibility to others.
During the campaign, he proudly described himself as a man of faith.
There is an important lesson here.
Being a committed Muslim and being an inclusive, progressive political leader need not be contradictory.
Equally, being proud of one's religious identity does not make someone less patriotic or less deserving of national leadership.
Abdul El-Sayed is American. Born in Michigan. Educated in American public institutions. A committed believer in the country's democratic possibilities.
His Egyptian ancestry and Muslim faith are not exceptions to his American identity.
They are part of it.
The campaign that tried to turn his identity into a political weapon
Of course, his path to victory was anything but easy.
The 2026 Senate campaign exposed some of the ugliest elements of contemporary American politics.
El-Sayed was subjected to deeply personal attacks based on his religion, ethnicity and even his name.
President Donald Trump publicly described him as a "jihadist" and, during an October campaign rally, mockingly referred to him as "Abdul Ramadan."
Trump also suggested that El-Sayed should have to pass through a metal detector before being allowed into the Senate.
These were not anonymous comments by fringe internet users.
They came from the President of the United States.
Other Republican figures questioned El-Sayed's loyalty and promoted allegations concerning supposed Muslim Brotherhood connections. El-Sayed repeatedly denied belonging to the organisation, and the campaign allegations concerning terrorist connections were not substantiated.
It is legitimate in a democracy to challenge a candidate's policies, political associations, judgment and suitability for office.
El-Sayed certainly had controversial positions. His opposition to American military support for Israel, especially amid the Gaza conflict, generated serious debate and criticism, including among some Jewish voters. His association with controversial progressive personalities also attracted scrutiny.
These are matters that deserve political examination.
But mocking someone's religious identity or suggesting that an Arabic name makes a person dangerous is an entirely different matter.
That is prejudice masquerading as political criticism.
Interestingly, the personal attacks did not destroy his candidacy.
They may even have strengthened his message.
Rather than hiding his identity, El-Sayed embraced it. Rather than allowing the campaign to revolve entirely around religion, he repeatedly redirected the discussion towards healthcare, living costs, economic inequality and corporate influence over government.
His campaign championed universal healthcare, affordable living, stronger protections for working families and political reforms to reduce the influence of wealthy donors.
Those were the issues he wanted Michigan voters to consider.
And ultimately, a majority of voters chose him.
For me, this was one of the most significant aspects of his victory.
He did not win by becoming less Muslim. He won while remaining openly Muslim, and by persuading enough voters that his ideas mattered more than the stereotypes attached to his identity.
From 'Inshallah' to 'Alhamdulillah': The victory speech
If his commencement speeches first made me follow his journey, his election-night speech was another reminder of why he is such a compelling communicator.
On 4 November 2026, standing before supporters in Detroit, he declared:
Michigan, we did it.
He explained how he had used the word inshallah — God willing — whenever asked about winning the election.
Now that the result was known, he could say alhamdulillah — praise be to God.
The symbolism was beautiful.
A Muslim American, freshly elected to one of the most powerful legislative institutions in the world, expressing gratitude to God in Arabic without embarrassment or apology.
And he did so with humour.
He addressed Vice President JD Vance with the affectionate Arabic expression habibi, joking about Vance's constitutional responsibility to swear him into office.
To Trump, who had struggled with and mocked his name, El-Sayed offered a simple answer: the president could soon call him Senator.
It was witty, confident and politically sharp.
But it was more than political theatre.
His speech represented a refusal to let hostility determine how he understood himself.
And that is a quality I find particularly attractive in contemporary leadership.
A new generation of American political leadership
At 42, Abdul El-Sayed represents a different kind of American political figure.
He belongs to a generation whose political experiences have been shaped by the aftermath of September 11, economic inequality, digital communications, identity politics, climate challenges and disillusionment with established institutions.
His political identity combines several interesting characteristics.
He is a medical doctor, a public health scholar, a former senior government administrator and an experienced political campaigner.
His academic journey took him from the University of Michigan to Oxford as a Rhodes Scholar, and subsequently to Columbia University for his medical degree.
Before entering electoral politics, he led Detroit's public health department, working on issues involving children's health, environmental risks and access to essential public services.
He lost his first major electoral contest in 2018.
But he did not disappear.
He continued writing, speaking, advocating for healthcare reform and engaging in national political debates.
Eight years later, he became a United States senator-elect.
That progression is important.
His political credibility was developed through knowledge, public service, communication and perseverance.
He also demonstrates that a modern political leader does not have to fit neatly into conventional categories.
He can be religious and progressive. Intellectual and accessible. Proud of his ethnic roots and deeply patriotic.
He can challenge established political power while recognising the institutions that helped create his opportunities.
Of course, an election victory does not automatically make someone a great statesman.
His ambitious healthcare proposals, economic agenda and foreign policy positions will now face the much harder test of legislative negotiation, compromise and implementation.
His supporters must assess him by results, not merely speeches.
Nevertheless, his rise suggests that the boundaries of American political leadership are changing.
A name once considered a possible political liability has become part of an extraordinary electoral success story.
What can Malaysians learn from Abdul El-Sayed?
This is perhaps the question that interests me most.
We do not have to agree with all of El-Sayed's political positions to learn from his journey.
In fact, I think there are several important lessons for Malaysia, particularly our universities, political parties, student leaders and younger generation.
First, universities must produce thinkers, not merely degree holders
His 2007 and 2019 commencement speeches remind us that universities should cultivate intellectual courage, communication skills and social responsibility.
Imagine if more Malaysian graduates could confidently speak about public policy, economic inequality, social justice and the future of their communities with the same clarity.
We need graduates who can question established assumptions rather than simply repeat lecture notes.
Our university core subjects, including general studies, nationhood, ethics, language and civic education, should contribute to that intellectual development.
A compulsory university subject should never become an insignificant academic requirement.
The measure of success is not merely examination performance. It is whether students become better citizens and more responsible leaders.
Second, religious conviction should strengthen ethical leadership
Malaysia is a Muslim-majority country with a diverse religious and cultural population.
El-Sayed demonstrates that strong personal faith can coexist with the ability to serve people of different backgrounds.
We should encourage politicians to translate their religious values into integrity, compassion, justice and concern for the vulnerable.
Religious identity alone is not proof of good leadership.
It is how those values are expressed through public service that matters.
Third, political competition must move beyond race and religion
This is particularly relevant to Malaysia.
Our political debates are still frequently dominated by racial anxieties, religious suspicion and questions about who truly belongs.
We are often too quick to evaluate leaders through identity rather than competence.
El-Sayed's experience demonstrates the damage such campaigning can cause, but also its potential limitations when voters are prepared to consider substance.
Wouldn't Malaysian democracy be stronger if our political contests focused more consistently on education, healthcare, housing, employment, corruption and government effectiveness?
That would not eliminate legitimate debates about identity and constitutional arrangements. It would simply ensure those debates do not overshadow every other issue of national importance.
Fourth, political leadership requires substance before slogans
El-Sayed did not emerge solely from viral TikTok videos or a successful electoral branding exercise.
His background includes academic achievements, research, public administration and a serious engagement with policy.
Malaysia needs more political leaders who understand how institutions work, how public programmes are implemented and how policies affect ordinary citizens.
This applies equally to young leaders in government and opposition parties.
Charisma is valuable.
But charisma without competence rarely produces lasting transformation.
Fifth, political defeat should not mean the end of leadership
One of the most encouraging aspects of his journey is that he lost in 2018 and won in 2026.
Between those years, he continued strengthening his political identity and public engagement.
In Malaysia, we sometimes treat electoral defeat as a permanent rejection.
Yet political defeat can become an opportunity for reflection, learning and institutional development.
Great political careers are not always built on uninterrupted victories.
Sometimes, a defeat is precisely what prepares someone for a more meaningful victory.
Finally, our younger generation needs the courage to imagine a different future
Perhaps the greatest lesson is about self-belief.
In 2007, even El-Sayed himself struggled to imagine that someone with his name and background could succeed in American national politics.
Nineteen years later, he has made history.
How many young Malaysians similarly underestimate their potential because of their backgrounds, family circumstances, ethnicity, disabilities or lack of political connections?
How many capable students never see themselves as future leaders because leadership appears reserved for a particular social class or established political network?
This is where universities, civil society and political institutions have a responsibility to create genuine opportunities.
Talent is widely distributed.
Opportunity is not.
That is a reality both Abdul El-Sayed and Malaysia must continue to confront.
The lesson is bigger than one election
I began following Abdul El-Sayed because of a commencement speech in 2007.
His extraordinary speech in 2019 strengthened my appreciation of his thinking and his understanding of public service.
And now, in November 2026, I find myself reflecting on the remarkable journey of that young man who once stood before his fellow graduates at the University of Michigan.
From a university auditorium to the United States Senate.
From a student speaker whose political future seemed improbable to a history-making senator-elect.
From being mocked for his name and faith to winning the confidence of millions of voters.
There is something deeply moving about that journey.
But I do not celebrate his victory simply because he is Muslim.
I celebrate the larger possibility it represents: that education, perseverance, ideas and public service can challenge deeply entrenched political prejudices.
His victory does not mean that Islamophobia has disappeared from America. Nor does it mean that every aspect of American democracy has suddenly become inclusive.
And certainly, it does not guarantee that he will succeed as a senator.
Those are challenges still ahead.
What his victory does demonstrate is that political leadership can emerge from backgrounds once considered unlikely or unacceptable.
For Malaysians, perhaps the most important lesson is this:
We must stop asking whether someone belongs to the right race, religion, family or political establishment before considering whether that person has the knowledge, integrity and courage to lead.
Instead, we should ask what they believe, what they have accomplished, whom they seek to serve and whether their leadership can improve society.
Abdul El-Sayed is unmistakably American.
He is also unmistakably Muslim.
He is proud of both identities, yet his political aspirations extend beyond either.
And perhaps this is what a new generation of political leadership should look like: people who do not have to deny their roots to build a shared future.
Almost twenty years ago, I watched a young Abdul El-Sayed speaking about the possibility of changing the world.
Today, he has an extraordinary opportunity to help change the country he calls home.
The speeches inspired me.
The election victory impressed me.
But his ultimate legacy will depend on what he does with the opportunity that history has now given him.
And that, to me, is where the real test of leadership begins.
— Dr Dan
Dunia Mendan | Reflections on Politics, Education, Leadership and Society
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