Faith & the Common Good Launches Extreme Weather Resilience Project with ISNA Canada and CREW

Faith & the Common Good (FCG) is launching its reimagined Extreme Weather Resilience Project to help faith communities across the Greater Toronto Area build resilience networks against increasingly frequent, severe extreme weather.

For the launch, FCG is partnering with ISNA Canada and CREW (Community Resilience to Extreme Weather) to establish a Resilience Network at Jami Mosque in Toronto.

The first step is FCG’s Comprehensive Green Audit, assessing the building and community’s extreme weather vulnerability, followed by CREW-led workshops.

The first two workshops are Resilientville, a role-playing exercise, that builds awareness of neighbourhood-level emergency response, and Community Asset Mapping, a workshop that maps local resources and organizations that strengthen collective resilience. Later workshops build capacity and inform a Climate Resilience Plan.

These efforts position congregation members and neighbours of all faith traditions — particularly those facing health challenges, mobility limitations, or social isolation — as leaders in resilience planning, not just beneficiaries.

This lays the foundation for a replicable model FCG and CREW can bring to faith communities across the GTA, and a step toward FCG’s goal of reconnecting with past resilience hub partners and building resources for communities across Canada.

(Funding support by Long Reach Fund and Catherine Donnelly Foundation).

This piece was originally published on IQRA.ca on September 8th 2026.

Peace Garden, Year Two: Adding Vegetables at Jami Mosque

By Zubair Shahab

Last year we planted the Peace Garden at Jami Mosque: a pollinator bed along the boulevard out front, on a strip of ground that had not been doing much for anyone.

A year on, it is working. The bed fills in earlier each season, the birdbath is the busiest spot on the property, and on a warm afternoon you can stand on the sidewalk and count bumblebees without moving. That is the thing about a pollinator garden — you plant it once and the results arrive on their own schedule, usually a season later than you were hoping.

Why we added vegetables

This year we wanted to build on that, and the reason came from somewhere else on the property.

We had recently started a Community Fridge at Jami — an open food bank anyone can take from. Running it taught us fast how much need there is in this neighbourhood, and how quickly the shelves empty. Fresh produce is the hardest thing to keep stocked and the first thing to go.

So we put in a vegetable garden.

We were honest with ourselves about scale. A few beds against the side of a mosque are not going to solve food insecurity in west Toronto. But two things made it worth doing. The first is that it does contribute something real to the fridge. The second, and the bigger one, is that it shows people this is something they can do themselves. Most of the people who walked past our beds this summer have never grown food and assume it takes land, money, or expertise they do not have. It takes a container, some soil, and someone willing to water it.

What we planted

We started in April, when the soil and mulch arrived from Scotts Canada. Beds got turned, containers got filled, and a group of volunteers spent a Sunday putting seedlings in the ground. Half of us had never grown a vegetable before.

We planted tomatoes, eggplant, onions, cucumbers and greens, and interplanted zinnias through the tomato rows to pull pollinators over from the front garden into the vegetable beds. That worked better than we expected — having the established pollinator bed already on site gave the vegetables a head start we did not have to work for.

The eggplants were the surprise of the season. Two plants in containers gave us more than we knew what to do with. The tomatoes came in steadily from late July onward.

How it actually got done

A small group of people who kept showing up.

Our garden team meets on Sundays. That is when the bigger jobs happen — planting, moving soil, cutting back, harvesting. But a garden does not wait for Sunday. Through the week, volunteers take on individual tasks: watering in the evenings, weeding, checking the containers during the hot stretches in July. Sadia and Yasmine in particular carried a lot of this, often buying supplies out of their own pockets before we sorted out reimbursement.

Nobody on this team is a professional gardener. What made it work was breaking the season into small, assignable jobs, and having a standing weekly time so it never fell entirely on one person.

Why a mosque grows food

In our tradition, human beings are described as khalifah — caretakers placed on this earth with a responsibility for it, not just a claim on it. Wasting water is discouraged even when you are standing at a flowing river. Wasting food is discouraged outright.

A garden makes those teachings concrete in a way a sermon cannot. A child who helps water tomatoes in June and eats one in August has learned something that will stay with them.

Next season

We want to keep developing the vegetable garden — more beds, a compost bin, and the children’s weekend school classes involved from the first planting day rather than partway through. We would also like to label the pollinator plants properly, so people walking past on Boustead learn the names of what they are looking at.

And we want to keep the Sundays going. That turned out to be the whole trick.

This piece was originally published on Faith and Common Good on September 7th 2026.

Reviving the Spirit of the Parliament of the World’s Religions in a Fragile World

Ibrahim Özdemir, PhD, American Islamic College, Chicago

We exist in a time of striking contradiction. Although enlightenment pioneers could not foresee how technologically, economically, and communicatively connected humanity would become, we still seem increasingly fractured by fear, bias, and political divide. At a time when global cooperation is more important than ever—whether we’re facing climate change, biodiversity loss, war, forced migration, or growing inequality—the places where people of different faiths and worldviews can meet with respect and humility are becoming even more precious. 

For this reason, the Parliament of the World’s Religions remains one of the most significant moral institutions of our time. Since its historic beginning in Chicago in 1893, the Parliament has offered far more than a conference of religious leaders. It has cultivated a global culture of encounter, demonstrating that dialogue is not a luxury reserved for peaceful times but an ethical imperative during periods of crisis, as Pope Leo’s recent messages underline. The Parliament has consistently reminded us that while our religious traditions differ in language, rituals, and theology, they converge in affirming the dignity of every human being, the pursuit of justice, compassion for the vulnerable, and responsibility toward the Earth that sustains us all.

This mission has acquired renewed urgency in our own century. We inhabit a fragile world where ecological degradation, political fragmentation, and social mistrust increasingly reinforce one another and are disseminated by social media. Climate change does not distinguish between religions or nations. Pollution respects no borders. The extinction of species, the depletion of natural resources, and the suffering caused by environmental injustice affect all members of the human family. These realities call for a new moral imagination—one that transcends narrow identities and recognizes our shared destiny as inhabitants of a common home. Unfortunately, while AI could help address major issues, its unethical uses are actually making them worse.

It is therefore both timely and deeply meaningful that the Parliament continues to bring together the Abrahamic faiths—Judaism, Christianity, and Islam—to reflect on our shared ethical responsibility toward creation. In an era where religion is frequently seen as a cause of division, marginalization, violence, and radicalization, these encounters serve as a reminder that genuine religious traditions hold significant resources for healing, reconciliation, and caring for the environment. 

Today, many religious leaders, including the Grand Imam of Al-Azhar, Sheik Ahmed El-Tayyeb, and Pope Leo XIV, call and advocate for transcending inherited stereotypes, political divisions, and mutual distrust to build renewed trust and collaboration in addressing our existential and economic challenges related to equity and injustice. My late friend Dr. Thomas Michel emphasized that understanding Christian-Muslim dialogue in the 20th century requires careful examination of Bediuzzaman Said Nursi’s writings and sermons. As an early religious thinker promoting Muslim-Christian dialogue, Said Nursi (d. 1960) first advocated such discussions in 1911. This was notably fifty years before the Catholic Church’s Second Vatican Council encouraged Christians and Muslims to overcome past conflicts and foster respectful, cooperative relations.

As an avid and discerning reader of Nursi, I have been engaged with the Parliament for nearly thirty years. I was privileged to attend the 1997 preparatory meeting in Chicago for the Cape Town Parliament, then the 1999 Parliament in Cape Town, and the 2004 Parliament in Barcelona. Each event profoundly influenced my intellectual, spiritual, and professional development.

As someone committed to advancing interfaith dialogue for the common good and for the flourishing of our planet, I have always regarded the Parliament as a unique forum where genuine listening becomes possible. It is a place where differences are not erased but understood, where diverse wisdom traditions illuminate one another, and where friendships emerge that transcend cultural, national, and religious boundaries. Above all, it is a place where ignorance, prejudice, and politically manufactured stereotypes can be challenged through direct human encounter.

Today, I believe more strongly than ever that dialogue is not just beneficial, but essential and a moral obligation. Both our social realities and our biological survival demand that we have to learn to speak with one another rather than about one another. When a house is on fire, our first responsibility is to extinguish the flames before debating who owns the house or how it should be decorated. Humanity and the planet Earth today face such a fire. Climate disruption, ecological collapse, and deepening social fragmentation and environmental injustices require urgent collective action grounded in our shared moral convictions.

The future of our children and grandchildren will not be determined solely by technological innovation or political negotiations. It will also depend upon whether we can recover the wisdom, humility, and solidarity necessary to act together. Every meaningful transformation begins with small but courageous steps, and every lasting partnership begins with sincere conversation.

The memories and insights I gained through my participation in the Parliament have stayed with me across the years, continually shaping my understanding of faith, ethics, and our shared responsibility toward creation. They have deepened my conviction that the world’s religious traditions, when animated by their most profound spiritual values rather than their institutional anxieties, are not obstacles to global cooperation but indispensable partners in building a more just, peaceful, and sustainable future.

It was this very hope that Tolstoy placed at the center of his last great novel, Resurrection. In tracing Nekhlyudov’s slow awakening from complacency to conscience, Tolstoy insisted that the renewal of society begins not with new institutions or ideologies but with the moral and spiritual rebirth of the individual — and that such rebirth, multiplied across a community, is what genuinely transforms the world. His conviction at the end of the novel was radical in its simplicity: were humanity truly to live by the teaching of the Sermon on the Mount — to forgive without limit, to refuse to judge, to love even the adversary — most of our gravest problems would never arise in the first place. The courts, the prisons, the exploitations that fill the novel’s pages stand exposed as machinery we ourselves keep running, machinery that would fall idle the moment we took those few commandments to heart.

That is the summons I carry from Tolstoy and from the Parliament alike: that the deepest resources for healing our divided and endangered world are already present within our spiritual traditions, waiting only to be lived.

Therefore, as we gather once again to reflect on the shared moral imperative of caring for our common home, we are invited not simply to exchange ideas but to renew a tradition of hope. In a fragile world longing for moral leadership, the Parliament of the World’s Religions continues to remind us that dialogue itself is an act of faith—faith in our shared humanity, faith in the possibility of reconciliation, and faith that together we can become more faithful stewards of the Earth entrusted to our care.

Al-Mizan: A Covenant for the Earth—An Islamic Vision for Our Common Home

I want to summarize Al-Mizan: A Covenant for the Earth, which presents an Islamic outlook on the environment to strengthen local, regional, and international actions that combat climate change and other threats to the planet. Nine years after Pope Francis issued Laudato Si’ (2015), his encyclical calling all people to care for “our common home,” the Muslim world offered its own comprehensive answer. Al-Mizan was launched in February 2024 at the sixth UN Environment Assembly (UNEA-6) in Nairobi, facilitated by UNEP’s Faith for Earth Coalition and drafted by a team of Islamic eco-theologians and jurists—drawing on ICESCO, IFEES, Üsküdar University, Hamad Bin Khalifa University, and the Qur’anic Botanic Garden, and reviewed by more than three hundred organizations across the Sunni, Shi’a, Ibadi, and Sufi traditions. If Laudato Si’ gave Catholic social teaching an ecological voice, Al-Mizan does the same for the Islamic tradition, and the two documents now stand as companion covenants speaking from within their respective faiths to a single planetary crisis.

The document takes its name and its governing idea from the Qur’an’s Sūrah ar-Raḥmān, where God “raised the heaven and set up the balance (al-mīzān), so do not transgress the balance.” From this single image, it builds an entire ecological vision. Rather than issue a list of policy demands, it offers a moral and theological framework and, in the tradition of Islamic reasoning, raises searching questions. It moves through five movements: an unsparing appraisal of the state of the Earth, in which environmental ruin is named as fasād, the corruption of a God-given order; a reading of creation as a book of divine signs (āyāt), in which every creature has inherent worth and the human being is khalīfah, a trustee rather than an owner; an account of the ecological ethos and ethics of Islam, grounded in taqwā (God-consciousness), iḥsān (doing what is beautiful and good), raḥmah (mercy), and amānah (the sacred trust); a chapter on equity and justice in sharing the sources of life, which addresses resource distribution, the exploitation named as ribā, the purifying obligation of zakāh, and the classical institution of the ḥimā, or protected commons; and finally a set of principles and practices for tending the Earth, followed by a way forward and a closing prayer.

At its heart Al-Mizan reframes the environmental question as a spiritual and ethical one. The Earth is amānah—a trust for which humanity will be held accountable—and the vocation of the human being is not dominion but stewardship, the keeping of a balance we did not create and are forbidden to break. In this it echoes the very conviction I carried away from the Parliament: that the world’s religious traditions, when animated by their deepest values, are not obstacles to global cooperation on the ecological crisis but among its most indispensable resources. To have been a core member of the team behind this covenant is, for me, the practical fulfillment of that hope—the moment at which a life of interfaith dialogue became a shared act of care for creation itself.

The central message of Al-Mizan is that the environmental crisis is not merely a scientific, technological, or political problem. At its heart, it is a moral and spiritual crisis arising from humanity’s loss of harmony with the divine order embedded within creation. The Qur’an repeatedly reminds believers that the universe has been created and sustained with purpose, measure, and balance (mizan). Every creature, ecosystem, and natural process forms part of an interconnected web that reflects God’s wisdom, beauty, mercy, and justice. To violate this balance through exploitation, excess, and injustice is not only an ecological failure but also a moral transgression.

The Covenant is grounded in the fundamental Islamic principle of Tawhid, which affirms God’s oneness. Since there is only one Creator, all creation creates a unified, interconnected community that is supported by the same divine source. Humans are not rulers over nature but are trustees responsible for its stewardship. The Qur’an’s depiction of God as Rabb al-‘Alamin—the Lord and Sustainer of all worlds—expands Islam’s ethical scope beyond humanity to include all living beings and the entire natural world.

One of the Covenant’s most significant contributions is its insistence that Islamic environmental ethics are not new innovations but a rediscovery of deeply rooted Qur’anic teachings and Prophetic practice. In other words, it uses three interpretive methods developed by Mary Evelyn Tucker and John Grim to revitalize Islamic religious teachings for contemporary application: retrieval, reinterpretation, and reconstruction. While retrieval brings forgotten and neglected ethical insights to light, reinterpretation reexamines texts and rituals in light of modern knowledge, and reconstruction reshapes theology to foster planetary ethics. Applying these tools to the Qurʾān reveals its enduring capacity to respond to our theoretical understanding and practical problems.

Furthermore, we find that in Islamic civilization, the values of moderation, conservation, compassion for all living beings, and responsible resource use influenced legal systems, institutions, and daily life. Consequently, Al-Mizan aims to reframe these lasting principles in language that engages with current global issues such as climate change, loss of biodiversity, environmental injustice, and unsustainable consumption habits.

Importantly, Al-Mizan does not view religious discourse as an alternative to science or public policy. Rather, it agrees with Canadian philosopher Charles Taylor’s central argument for a new understanding of religion’s role and argues that scientific knowledge, technological innovation, and sound environmental policies require an accompanying moral framework capable of inspiring behavioral and cultural transformation. Religious traditions possess precisely this capacity because they shape values, worldviews, and everyday ethical choices. The Covenant therefore calls on Islamic scholars, institutions, educators, policymakers, businesses, and local communities to work collaboratively to advance sustainability as a shared moral responsibility.

The making of Al-Mizan itself reflects this spirit of collaboration. Emerging from cooperation among UNEP’s Faith for Earth Initiative, ICESCO, IFEES, leading universities, environmental scholars, and hundreds of Islamic institutions worldwide, the Covenant represents a genuinely global Islamic response to the planetary crisis. It demonstrates that environmental stewardship is not a peripheral concern but an integral dimension of contemporary Islamic thought and action.

Ultimately, Al-Mizan advocates for an ecological interpretation of the Qur’an, recognizing humanity, nature, and the Creator as elements of a unified sacred story. It urges Muslims to develop societies and economies founded upon justice, moderation, sustainability, and respect for all forms of life. The Earth is not merely a resource to be consumed but a divine sign (ayah), a sacred trust to be protected, and a home to be passed on in balance to future generations. Restoring the balance, we have disturbed is therefore both an ecological necessity and a profound act of spiritual renewal.

Today, the spirit of the Parliament carries a hopeful promise. In a fragile world often pulled by fear and division, it reminds us that we’re not destined for fragmentation—that people of all faiths can come together as caretakers of our shared, endangered home. As recent IPCC reports show, our planet Earth is on fire, and no tradition can extinguish the flames alone. Yet if we recover the wisdom, humility, and solidarity our faiths hold in trust, dialogue becomes more than conversation: it becomes an act of faith in our shared humanity and a covenant with the generations who will inherit the Earth we leave behind.

This piece was originally published on the Parliament of the World’s Religions on September August 27th 2026.

How eco-anxiety fuelled this young leader’s journey

By Armaan Makhani

My journey will not sound like the usual origin story of a climate advocate, but that might make it all the more important to share.

It was my first year studying Health Sciences at McMaster University - something I had looked forward to for years. But because of covid-19, instead of lecture halls and new friendships, I was sitting in my childhood bedroom staring at a laptop screen as one Zoom lecture blurred into the next. The pandemic days felt repetitive and distant from anything real.

So when I came across an environmental science elective that required us to actually go outside to collect forestry field data, I signed up without much hesitation. I wasn’t trying to ‘change the world.’ I didn’t have a lifelong passion for protecting the environment. I just wanted an excuse to get outside.

Before that course, climate change was something I cared about in the abstract. I knew it was important, urgent even, but it lived in headlines and documentaries.

That changed the first time I was asked to slow down and observe the world around me - to measure trees, collect soil samples, and notice patterns I had never paid attention to before. It made everything feel closer. 

But with that closeness came something I wasn’t expecting: anxiety. The more I learned, the heavier it felt. Climate change stopped being a distant issue and started feeling like something already shaping the future - our future. I remember thinking: How are we supposed to fix something this big?

As I continued taking sustainability courses, working toward my minors in sustainability and community engagement, that feeling didn’t go away. If anything, it grew stronger. When I later became a Sustainability Teaching Assistant, I started hearing the same thing from others. Students would enter tutorials carrying not just curiosity, but fear, frustration, and a sense of helplessness.

It soon became clear that this wasn’t just my experience - it was shared. In fact, three out of every four Canadians feel that climate change impacts their mental health.

For a long time, I didn’t know what to do with that feeling. There wasn’t a single moment where everything clicked - no dramatic turning point. Instead, it was a gradual shift shaped by people, conversations, and small actions that started to add up.

I began to see that my interest in health and my growing passion for sustainability weren’t two separate paths - they were intertwined. This realisation changed the questions I was asking. Instead of wondering whether my actions could make a difference, I started wondering where I could contribute.

I got involved in research on single-use plastics that informed campus policy, helped lead the Student Sustainability Ambassadors Program to create spaces to transform climate anxiety into action, and started a fund supporting marginalised students with sustainability initiatives.

Over time, something shifted. The climate anxiety didn’t quite disappear, but it started to change. It became fuel and motivation to do more.

The deeper I got into this work, the more I realised that climate change isn’t just an environmental issue - it’s a health issue, and more than that, it’s an equity issue. The communities most affected by climate change are often those already facing systemic inequities, with the fewest resources to respond to disproportionate heatwaves, poor air quality, and limited access to care.

Health doesn’t exist in isolation. It’s shaped by the environments we live in - the air we breathe, the water we drink, and the systems we rely on. There’s an inspiring quote first published by The Lancet, that I often turn to:

“Climate change is the greatest global health threat facing the world in the 21st century, but it is also the greatest opportunity to redefine the social and environmental determinants of health.”

Today, I’m proud to work on a national, interdisciplinary project team at the Canadian Coalition for Green Health Care, supporting efforts to transition Canada’s health system toward net-zero. My work involves developing educational resources, exploring low-carbon technologies, and leading conversations on how we can reduce emissions in healthcare buildings while strengthening resilience. It’s technical at times, but it’s still about people.

It’s about recognising that the buildings we design, the energy systems we use, and the decisions we make in healthcare all have real consequences for human wellbeing. So we must keep asking: how can we do better?

What has surprised me most is how powerful it is when people are given space to engage with this work in a meaningful way. I’ve seen students enter class overwhelmed and leave with a sense of purpose, small ideas grow into institutional change, and momentum shift when people realise they’re not alone.

Hope, I’ve learned, is not something to wait for. It’s something to build - together as a society. I don’t become hopeful by ignoring how uncertain and serious things are. I become hopeful by staying connected - to my faith, to community, to the natural world, and to the stories of people who show up, in big and small ways, to create change.

I remind myself that my own journey didn’t start with a grand plan. It started with a single, almost accidental decision. Which makes me think: how many others are out there right now, one opportunity away from finding their way into this work?

Throughout this journey, I’ve worked to weave together health, equity, and climate action - threads too often kept apart. I’ve also tried to help young people step into their own power as leaders rather than bystanders by transforming climate anxiety into agency.

The recent increase in environmental sustainability dialogue within our Jamat, alongside the honour to be named one of Canada’s Top 30 Under 30 Sustainability Leaders, has further ignited my drive to support Ismaili youth as they transform into trailblazers within this space. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that we can’t leave this kind of transformation up to chance!

This piece was originally published on the.ismaili on April 7 2026.

Waterkeeper: how water can be a blueprint for peace

For Bashar Alshawwa, water is not just a basic need — it is both the heart of global inequality and the key to peace. After decades of occupation, exile and war, he is working to turn a weaponized resource into a bridge between peoples.

Bashar Alshawwa thinks Canadians are spoiled. He’s immediately apologetic as he admits this, smiling sheepishly — and questions out loud if he even has the right to say that as a newcomer to Canada from the occupied West Bank. But to him, being able to turn on the tap at home at any time — and get clean water on demand — is a new kind of “heaven” that he thinks most Canadians don’t appreciate enough.

“I’m enjoying the water here because, back home, we can’t drink the tap water for a million different reasons,” Alshawwa says. Among them: old, unrenovated water systems. Pollution. And, crucially, the lack of access, control and ownership of water itself due to Israel’s long-standing occupation of Palestine.

What this new availability of unlimited clean water means for Alshawwa, his wife and four young children is that their relationship with water is changing. Now, he says, “I don’t care about taking a bath once every day or once every week or once every month, depending on the situation. I’m not worried if my kid needs a bath after a messy meal or, you know, a full diaper, because back home, we would use wipes and be very careful.”

And yet, as Alshawwa enjoys this newfound freedom and access to water — not just to drink, but to be able to walk on the shores of a Great Lake or along one of the winding rivers in Toronto, where he now lives — he is watching his entire extended family in Gaza struggle to find it every day.

This water catastrophe dates back long before the military assault that began after Hamas’s attack on Israel on Oct. 7, 2023. Water has been at the source of Israel’s occupation of Palestine since 1948, during the Nakba. Nakba (النَّّكْْبََة), the Arabic word for “catastrophe,” refers to the violent expulsion and ethnic cleansing of more than 750,000 Palestinians from their villages by Zionist paramilitary groups to establish the state of Israel. Palestinians believed they would be home again in weeks, but more than five generations later, there are now more than seven million Palestinian refugees and internally displaced people globally.

Then, and again after the 1967 Arab-Israeli war, the first military decisions Israel made were about water, with the Israeli military taking complete control of all water resources and infrastructure in the West Bank, East Jerusalem and the Gaza Strip. Water was a key issue on the table during the peace agreements of the Oslo Accords, first signed in 1993, along with right of return, refugees, settlements and borders.

Map: Chris Brackley/Can Geo; Map data: Water sources: Fanack; Safely managed water: Palestine Central Bureau of Statistics, 2021; UNICEF; Cohen, 2024; Water availability: Palestine Central Bureau of Statistics/Palestinian Water Authority; Palestine Studies; Kramer et al 2022; World Health Organization; United Nations; Sewage, Gaza: Fanack; Pollution, Gaza: United Nations; GIS data: LANDSAT imagery, 2023: USGS; Land cover, 2020: Centre for Environmental Cooperation; Israeli water infrastructure: Mekorot; Gaza water wells: Salem & Isaac, 2007; Gaza water infrastructure: UNICEF, 2023

According to Amnesty International, “one of the most devastating consequences of Israel’s occupation is its discriminatory policies on Palestinians’ access to adequate supplies of clean and safe water.” Almost 60 years later, these restrictions continue, preventing Palestinians from getting the water they need to live a dignified life. In 2012, the United Nations predicted that by 2020 the lack of clean water would render Gaza “unlivable.”

In the Gaza Strip, 97 per cent of fresh water is unsuitable for human consumption, and raw sewage pours into the Mediterranean Sea. Desalination plants that treat water work only occasionally because Israel controls the fuel, supplies and electricity that power the plants. Since October 2023, the Israelis have repeatedly bombed these desalination plants and other water infrastructure, then hindered efforts to repair them.

“The numbers are horrible back home,” explains Alshawwa. According to Fanack Water, a Dutch organization that raises issues of water scarcity in the Middle East and North Africa region, some Palestinian communities only receive under 30 litres per day. (The World Health Organization recommends a minimum of 100 litres per day.)  This shortage exists even though Palestinians in the West Bank are the landowners and the water well owners. But they don’t have access to these water wells due to Israel’s occupation and “ownership” of the water under Israeli law. Meanwhile, according to the Palestinian Water Authority officials, illegal Israeli settlers in the West Bank receive 400 liters per day, enjoying pools and water fountains. Alshawwa calls it “a huge injustice.”

This water inequality is something Alshawwa has lived through. “Where I used to live in Ramallah, we receive [water] once every one month. In other communities, once every four months,” he says. “That means that all your behaviour will change as a human: when do you take a bath? When do you water your garden? When do you clean your house? You can’t renovate your water pipes. You can’t deal with the existing water resources that you have under your house, because the law — the military law, the occupation law — prevents you from doing that.”

Back home in Ramallah, Alshawwa was working for EcoPeace, a non-profit organization bringing together Jordanian, Palestinian and Israeli environmentalists to foster peace through shared environmental issues such as water. The organization, which has offices in Amman, Tel Aviv and Ramallah, was founded in 1994 in the wake of the Oslo Accords and funded and supported in part by Canada.

EcoPeace sought to fill in the blanks of what the Oslo peace accords left out: real solutions to water and environmental concerns. The non-profit saw a rare opportunity for collaboration amid conflict: Jordan, Israel and Palestine all shared the same waterways. Alshawwa and his colleagues wanted to protect the basic human right to water. “It’s something undeniable,” he says. EcoPeace work gave him a clear-eyed entry point into the occupation and conflict in Israel/Palestine, one that’s often framed as religious. “No,” says Alshawwa. “It’s a war over resources.”

Occupation, annexation and war further threatened an already water-scarce region. EcoPeace saw the right to healthy, clean, accessible water as a powerful tool: one that united these countries with a shared responsibility — for themselves, and for each other. “We’re talking about mutual interest,” Alshawwa says. “These human values of equality and justice are not enough to protect the cause. This is reality.”

There’s no stronger case for water diplomacy than the Jordan River (Nahr al-Urdunn or نهر الأردن in Arabic and Nehar ha-Yarden or נהר הירדן in Hebrew), which springs from the mountains between Lebanon and Syria, slips through the Sea of Galilee and winds 360 kilometres down to the Dead Sea. Along the way, it delineates some of the region’s tensest borders — Israel with Jordan and Syria, and Palestine with Jordan — a landscape crisscrossed with fences and landmines. Decades of water grabs by Israel, Syria and Jordan have bled the river dry, leaving Palestinians without a share in its southern reach — and leaving nature with almost nothing at all. Today, roughly 96 per cent of the Jordan’s fresh water has been diverted. A river sacred to Jews, Christians and Muslims has been reduced in many places to a sluggish, foul-smelling trickle. “The Jordan River valley used to be the food basket for the Levant area, but it ended up like the Sahara because of the weaponization of water,” Alshawwa says.

When EcoPeace started its work on the river in 2005, the waters in which Christians believe Jesus himself was baptized thousands of years ago were drying up — and nearly irreparably polluted, owing to decades of competition over, and diversion of, the Jordan. EcoPeace estimates Israel diverts about half of the river’s average annual flow, while Syria and Jordan take the rest. Palestinians, denied access to the river, take almost nothing.

Yet, the Jordan River is the perfect case study for how effective “eco-diplomacy” can be. Through advocacy, campaigns and legal pressure, EcoPeace helped pressure the Israeli government to build a wastewater treatment plant in the Gaza Strip in 2021. The Israeli government also agreed to release water from the Sea of Galilee to the Jordan River. And EcoPeace also secured some access for Palestinians to the biblically significant shores of the Jordan. Nearby Al- Maghtas, where it is believed Jesus was baptized, became a UNESCO World Heritage site in 2015.

Despite these wins, Alshawwa laments the damage that has already been done. Pilgrims flocking to the holy shores of the Jordan River to be baptized are doing so in polluted water. “I feel sorry for that,” Alshawwa says.

One week before Oct. 7, 2023, Alshawwa and his colleagues at EcoPeace — including a Palestinian decision-maker, an Israeli decision-maker and a delegation of international diplomats — embarked on an advocacy tour in the “Gaza envelope,” the territory in Israel within seven kilometres of the Gaza Strip. What they saw was concerning.

Alshawwa can list in quick succession the factors that made this place a tinderbox. It was clear to him and his colleagues that Gaza, as it was, had no future. No jobs for youth. No security. No stability. No clean drinkable water. No facilities for electricity, nor for energy, not even enough to effectively treat waste, so waste was pushed instead into the open sea. No cement for construction: no pipes, no building materials, owing to Israel’s blockade — which restricted even toys, spices and jam, musical and writing instruments — let alone desperately needed supplies to rebuild infrastructure damaged in previous wars on Gaza.

“No one can accept living in such an unstable situation. Unfortunately, it took us a genocide to start worrying about that region,” says Alshawwa. “We didn’t expect the scale of October 7. We have been warning for many years that the apartheid ethnic cleansing regime is not only damaging Palestinians; it’s threatening the entire Middle East and the entire world.”

In late October 2023, Alshawwa and his colleagues at EcoPeace, along with a coalition of influential Israeli NGOs, experts and institutions, sent letters to Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu warning him that turning off the water supply to Gaza was against Israeli law and pressured him to reopen the taps, or they would take him to court. The U.S. administration was also pressing Netanyahu on this. This coalition met with Netanyahu’s team, and the government acquiesced. But it was a short-lived win. Israel opened the water connections in late October, but its military had effectively destroyed the water infrastructure within Gaza — so water arrived with no way to distribute it. 

EcoPeace was on the ground delivering water alongside partners in Gaza’s water, sanitation, and hygiene committee when six of the water sector workers were killed in an Israeli attack. “These were no accidents,” says Alshawwa. “These were coordinated activities that Israel had knowledge of. We shared all details of the car, the plates, where the teams will work, all their pictures and IDs. It was coordinated with the Red Cross, and they bombed them. They killed many people.” In a separate incident, Alshawwa lost a colleague: EcoPeace’s own engineer who supervised EcoPeace’s projects in Gaza. 

Today, the situation is catastrophic. “Nowadays in Gaza, oh my God… I don’t have enough words to explain,” Alshawwa says. “No words can explain that. In the shelters, you have to put one of your kids all day at the queue to the bathroom, just to reserve a place because it will take eight hours, 10 hours, to get your [turn] to use the toilet.”

Alshawwa adds that it’s women who bear the brunt of the lack of water access. “In the shelters, imagine women with their periods, with the lack of having tampons,” he says. “In some communities, women have to go from one place to another to wash clothes and to use water.” Mothers were already buckling under the pressure of parenting amidst the relentless military onslaught by Israel while also having to find food and water for their children. Alshawwa says this plan “to make life hell” for residents in Gaza is part of Israel’s plan of forcible displacement and ethnic cleansing.

But to Alshawwa and his colleagues at EcoPeace, there was an opportunity here: what if water could go from being the root cause of conflict to unlocking and solving it for good?

Alshawwa’s path to water justice was forged by a childhood spent in search of a home. He was born in 1985, a Palestinian refugee outside Palestine in Kuwait. During and after the Gulf War in 1990-91, close to 400,000 Palestinians were expelled from Kuwait — a form of collective punishment after the Palestine Liberation Organization had aligned with Saddam Hussein — forcing Alshawwa and his family to move to Iraq, a country engulfed in what he describes as an unlivable war. Next, they tried to make a home in Jordan, but owing to their status as refugees, he and his sister were unable to enrol in schools. They had to leave yet again, finding themselves in a Palestinian refugee camp in Damascus, Syria. That, too, was short-lived: Syria was living under a dictatorship, and Alshawwa says even finding bread was a struggle. Then came the Oslo Accords in 1993, a landmark agreement between Israel and the Palestinian Liberation Organization in which Israel recognized the organization as a legitimate authority representing the Palestinian people. Alshawwa’s father returned to Palestine, and the family joined him a year later, in 1995.

Being in Palestine for the first time after a lifetime of displacement was “bliss,” Alshawwa says, a reprieve from not being “the other.” A feeling of safety, of being home — finally. But less than a decade later, that positivity began to crumble for Alshawwa with the beginning of the Second Intifada, a major uprising by Palestinians against Israeli occupation that began in 2000 and continued for five years. This difficult time made Alshawwa re-examine his decision to stay in Palestine. “I lost friends, classmates and… and seeing everything collapsing with zero future,” says Alshawwa. “I knew if I stayed I would never make it.”

Alshawwa moved to Russia to attend Vladimir State University, about 200 kilometres east of Moscow. He’d received a scholarship to study biomedical engineering, which married his interests in becoming an engineer or a doctor. He “saw life” there, and that it could be “huge and big.”

This was the dream for many young Palestinians — to fulfill the responsibility of studying abroad, then come home to build, bringing back all they’d learned to Palestine.

He “saw life,” and that it could be “huge and big.”

Five years into that dream return, it shattered with a single bullet that tore through Alshawwa’s leg. A friend had invited him to a “peaceful protest” against the 2014 Gaza War. Protests, as far as Alshawwa knew, meant lighting tires on fire or throwing rocks. This was not that. It was “one of those European protests with candles.” It was called the “march of مسيرة 48 ألف) ” 48,000) and the plan was for Palestinians from communities all over the West Bank to march about 14 kilometres to the border with Jerusalem. They would sit at the Qalandia checkpoint until Israel ended its offensive on Gaza. Alshawwa went with his sisters, his nieces and his girlfriend, Arwa — now his wife. They marched carrying candles and signs. They reached the checkpoint. Then, the shooting started. Alshawwa, no stranger to rubber bullets, realized with horror that Israeli soldiers were shooting live ammunition.

“I was lucky because, when they started shooting, I just hid behind a small piece of concrete,” Alshawwa says. What he didn’t realize was that there were also Israeli snipers positioned overhead on military towers. He remembers a man next to him screaming that there was a laser pointed at Alshawwa’s head as he was crouching behind the concrete barrier. He knew he had to move — fast.

Alshawwa stood up to run and took the bullet in his leg. When an ambulance tried to rescue him, the Israelis shot at it. Medics arrived on foot. Israeli soldiers fired at the medics. Alshawwa says the soldier who shot him just “wanted me to bleed to death.” In the end, he crawled to reach the ambulance. That’s all he remembers until he woke up after surgery. It took 52 stitches to repair the damage caused by the bullet.

It took Alshawwa three days to come back to himself. He’d lost a lot of blood and was on a dizzying combination of painkillers and morphine. Visitors rushed to see him at the hospital and share what had happened. His mom and sisters had wept the day he was shot after hearing someone had been killed in the protests. “They thought I was dead,” remembers Alshawwa. “It was painful. I can’t really even remember what happened.”

Two weeks later, he started to wonder what he was even doing in Palestine. It would take almost a year and many other surgeries to walk again. Meanwhile, the war raged on. By the time a ceasefire agreement was reached, 2,251 Palestinians had been killed, 11,231 were injured and some 18,000 houses were partly or fully destroyed. At the time, Alshawwa says, he abandoned the possibility of peace with this “apartheid regime.”

“Sitting on the couch for one year gives you all this negativity and anger,” he recalls of his recovery. “Until this moment, I’m paying the price for being Palestinian.”

Alshawwa walks alone as the Toronto city skyline rises above Lake Ontario.

Three years after his painful recovery, the birth of his first daughter, Luna, changed everything. “I promised myself to do whatever I can do to make her future better than my history. I don’t want her to face the same messed up childhood I had,” Alshawwa explains. Within seconds of holding her, “I felt responsible for her. It’s not her fault to be born Palestinian.”

Alshawwa found a way forward. In 2018, he began to work in conflict resolution with EcoPeace. Understanding how crucial access and rights relating to water were to solving a decades-long imbalance between Israel and Palestine made him think: maybe water was the key to unlocking a better life for his new baby. He followed that thread, going on to receive a master’s degree in conflict resolution and development, specializing in water security and water diplomacy.

Water has no borders, he says. Take Gaza, for example, with its lack of power to treat wastewater. It was not only Gaza’s shoreline being polluted with wastewater and losing its biodiversity, but Israeli beaches and those in neighbouring Egypt. “So it’s not only a Palestinian problem now; it’s an Israeli problem,” says Alshawwa. “It’s an Egyptian problem. It’s an international problem.”

“I felt responsible for her. It’s not her fault to be born Palestinian.”

While the work is long, heavy and often uphill, Alshawwa has no shortage of success stories that prove environmental rights, water rights and human rights can be the building blocks for a better life: EcoPeace’s work has prevented land confiscation, stopped the building and expansion of illegal Israeli settlements and prevented the demolition of houses, according to Alshawwa. As director of advocacy, Alshawwa was leading the teams doing this work. They’d start by going to Israeli military courts, sometimes even taking their cases to Israel’s supreme court and international courts.

For years after Luna’s birth, Alshawwa turned down job opportunities outside Palestine, not wanting to miss his chance to stay and live at home after a lifetime of exile and displacement. That calculation changed after October 2023.

“When we started counting bodies… I just looked at Luna, and I said, ‘Maybe it’s my mistake, my decision to stay home, but it’s not her fault.’” He and his wife decided to take their children and leave the country, at least until things calmed down. Alshawwa feared there were no limits to the violence underway. “We had horrible stories,” said Alshawwa. “I have people with names, memories, with lives, kids killed just for being there.”

In June 2024, Alshawwa saw his opportunity. He’d learned there were special measures for Israelis and Palestinians affected by the war to come to Canada and receive a work or study permit for up to two years. While in Canada to represent EcoPeace during meetings with the Canadian government, which supports EcoPeace’s work, he told his team that he intended to take advantage of these special measures and stay in Canada. He resolved to make a life for himself and his growing family.

The leadership at EcoPeace sprang into action to help make Alshawwa’s dream a reality. They reached out to their contacts through the Waterkeeper Alliance. The alliance, which EcoPeace joined in 2009, is a worldwide network of over 300 water organizations working to protect more than 15.5 million square kilometres of rivers, lakes and waterways on six continents. Alshawwa was connected with waterkeepers in Ontario, who share his passion for protecting waterways, addressing water scarcity and seeing water as a powerful conduit for peace through international co-operation.

It took 10 months for Alshawwa’s family’s applications to be approved while he stayed in Canada. “It wasn’t easy,” he said. “The process, the bureaucracy…[and] holding a Palestinian passport.”

In July 2024, Alshawwa missed the birth of his fourth child, a son named Khalil, while still navigating the reams of paperwork that would bring his family to Canada. He FaceTimed them often, and he watched Khalil grow with every call. He smiled when Khalil grew to recognize his father’s face through the screen.

Eight months later, on March 28, 2025, Alshawwa stood nervously at the arrivals hall at Pearson Airport, waiting for the doors to part for his wife, Arwa, along with their children Luna, Maya, Majed and Khalil, now seven months old. Two of Alshawwa’s friends stood by his side. One held a big, square balloon, while the other held a hand-drawn sign that read: “WELCOME TO CANADA,” along with the children’s and Arwa’s names in colourful lettering.

An hour went by. All around him, Alshawwa and his friends watched families and friends reunite, hugging, laughing, shedding tears. He grew anxious. Had something gone wrong? Where were his wife and kids? Alshawwa recalls his back seizing in the painful way that it does when he is on edge. Two hours passed.

Alshawwa’s heart sank. He began to think the whole Canadian dream was naive, and perhaps it was time to abandon it and book his own ticket back home to Palestine.

Then, the doors parted, and through them ran his daughters, Luna and Maya, straight into his arms. “When I just saw them, everything disappeared,” Alshawwa says.

Then he saw Khalil for the first time. Any fears that his newest son wouldn’t recognize him evaporated. “This little incredible kid, he knew me,” Alshawwa says, wide-eyed with wonder as he remembers Khalil’s recognition of a father he’d never met.

Alshawwa laughs with his daughters Luna (right) and Maya (left).

A few weeks later, slate-coloured skies and a warm breeze envelope the auditorium at the Toronto Reference Library in downtown Toronto, as it fills with hundreds of attendees in purple T-shirts. It is the Canada Peace Summit, a full day of panels, conversations and dialogue designed to “engage Palestinians and Jews in dialogue.” The event was organized by Toronto Friends of Standing Together, a community of Torontonians who are supporters of Standing Together, an Israeli social grassroots movement aiming to end the occupation and achieve peace and equality. Alshawwa is standing just outside the auditorium, looking sharp in his suit, Arwa beaming at his side.

Alshawwa is very clear about why he’s here to speak today. “It’s our story, our cause,” he says. He says Palestinians are often pushed out of the frame when talking about their very futures, and he doesn’t want to waste an opportunity to claim the conversation. He also sees it as an opening: nothing is as polarizing as talking about Israel and Palestine, and people are divided, splintered, and far apart. This is an opportunity to bring them closer together under a massive metaphorical tent of people who care deeply about the future of Palestine and Israel.

“People are standing on the edge,” Bashar says. He has a plea and invitation to anyone who may be reluctant: “If you want to make a change, here is a partner for change. Come on board.”

It is mere minutes before Alshawwa is due to take the stage, but first, there’s something he wants to do. He excuses himself with a flash of a smile. “I’m going to go make a membership at the library [for] my kids.”

Moments later, Alshawwa takes the stage. He is nervous but speaks clearly and emphatically.

“I’ll start by the words weakness — weakness, helplessness, oppression,” says Alshawwa. “These are not just emotions. They ache like a wound, a pain that seeps into your bones and your spirit. My experience has never been easy. For most of my life, I believe I was powerless.”

For the next few minutes, he holds the room’s rapt attention as he tells his life story — and his refusal to give into the anger and rage that consumed him after he was shot in 2014. 

 “I was born a Palestinian refugee from Gaza, outside Palestine, and had a childhood without a childhood. I was without stability. I don’t remember a school I stayed in or a childhood friend. We were always on the move. We were chasing safety. Then came a chance: I returned to my homeland after the Oslo Accords, only to be shocked by a brutal reality: occupation, violence, death, injustice. At that time, I did what anyone would do, and I tried to tell myself I was like everyone else — that I can, I can, or I could, cope with that. Then a sniper’s bullet shattered that. I was shot by an Israeli soldier. I couldn’t walk for a long time, and at that time I was spent with rage, pain and most of all, helplessness. I was helpless to move. I was helpless to reject the injustice. I remember being trapped in that feeling until the day I had my biggest achievement, when I had my beautiful daughter, Luna. And for the first time, everything changed in that moment… I found myself rejecting helplessness, rejecting weakness, rejecting the very oppression that had defined my life. I knew I had to try to fight for a change, for hope, not just for me, but for that beautiful kid. Since then, I have spent years building bridges, forming partnerships, trying to convince the status quo and rejecting the oppression. And I have to prove myself and to others that change is possible, that hope is not a lie. And then, unfortunately, this war started. And when this war began, and again, I lost loved ones, family, friends, uncles, aunts, nieces, nephews, colleagues in Gaza, the pain returned… My body collapsed at that moment. My gallbladder burst from distress and grief, and after waking up from the surgery, I faced the same question, the same test: would I return to being that helpless child, that victim, or would I remain the Bashar who chose to act, to never stop working for peace, for justice? Today, we are all facing that same test as individuals, as groups, as communities, societies, Jews, Arabs, Muslims, white, Indigenous. And this is a challenge, at the end, to our humanity, to our values, to everything we stand for. But we have a choice. Remember that we have a choice, a chance to create a change, to say no to helplessness, no to injustice, and yes to action, yes to responsibility, yes to protecting not just ourselves but the world that we all share. So change is possible if we want it, and that truly is our choice. Thank you for being here.”

The room hangs with silence for a moment after Alshawwa stops speaking. Then, the crowd rise to their feet, and Alshawwa stands amid a wave of thunderous applause.

THREE MONTHS INTO the war on Gaza, Alshawwa was in his office at EcoPeace’s Ramallah headquarters, trying to stay focused on his mission and work amid news of Israel’s relentless campaign of devastation. His boss walked in with life-changing news: he and his colleagues at EcoPeace had been nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize, recognizing three decades of environmental peace-building work and, notably, their work on the Jordan River. It was proof — and recognition — that water could truly be a tool of cooperation.

“This nomination is huge,” Alshawwa smiles. “Even Trump didn’t get it.”

The Nobel nod was especially meaningful to Alshawwa because the nomination recognized EcoPeace’s advocacy work — Alshawwa was, at the time, director of advocacy for the organization. “It came in the times of war, in the times of the genocide, and it came to give us hope that at least we’re not left behind, and someone outside is thinking about this.”

Then, Alshawwa says, “we continued our daily work,” pushing for Gaza to receive electricity, for the strip to be able to treat their own water, to stop raw sewage from polluting shorelines, for Palestinians to have access to water, and protecting the ancient biodiversity of the Jordan River Valley, one of the most important bird migration flyways in the world. Nobel nomination secured, it was time to get back to work: the storks, common pelicans, kingfishers, herons, shovelers, sandpipers, shanks, francolins and other globally threatened waterfowl were counting on him to keep going.

Today, Alshawwa and his family are having “good problems” in their new home. In the West Bank, school drop-offs and pickups involved monitoring for the threat of violence. Alshawwa had to be hypervigilant, because “being at the wrong place, wrong time will cost you your life.” Here, everyday problems look more like preparing for the upcoming fun fair, or the pool being closed for renovations at school. “We’re so grateful for this opportunity.… It’s a new life, a new beginning,” Alshawwa smiles.

But the home he’s left behind doesn’t stray from his thoughts. “When I see my daughters enjoying the life of Canada, I still remember my nieces [in Gaza] striving for water.”

The violence back home has shifted. Alshawwa has seen Israeli soldiers “shooting and laughing,” videos of Israeli soldiers celebrating their birthdays by bombing houses. Palestinians called the intentional and systematic destruction of their people a genocide long before the world caught up. Now, the UN Commission of Inquiry, the International Association of Genocide Scholars, Amnesty International and the government of South Africa (in a case at the International Court of Justice) have stated Israel’s actions in Gaza amount to genocide. Alshawwa says he fears what other atrocities will be discovered when they eventually stop — if they ever do.

Today, Alshawwa’s entire extended family is in the north of Gaza. On a good day, messages read, “We survived today.” Other days: “We lost someone today, and we’re counting bodies.” That’s to say nothing of the daily scramble for food and water, with Alshawwa doing his best to coordinate funds, logistics or both, to help them get it. That is in addition to his work in Canada leading the Water for Peace initiative at non-profit Swim Drink Fish and, more recently, working in advocacy and building inter-community relationships for C-Space, a conflict resolution firm.

Alshawwa says he wants to give up. Often. But he rejects the urge to give into despair. “It’s our cause. It’s our responsibility. Someone has to do it. It’s now or never. I would blame myself in the future if I did nothing.”

It’s sometimes thankless work, criticized by everyone around him. Alshawwa understands when people lose hope. But he also says that’s exactly what “the spoilers” want. Alshawwa says they exist not just on “both sides” but on all sides — those who benefit from keeping things exactly as they are: he names the Israeli government, as well as Hamas, the Palestinian Liberation Organization and the Palestinian Authority. But it’s also the wider international community, weapons manufacturers, Christian Zionists. All of them, he says, benefit from the status quo he is trying to change.

“There is no one villain in this story,” says Alshawwa. “There are many villains — and many victims and many heroes.”

Alshawwa won’t let the villains win and instead wants to be one of the heroes, for four very good reasons. Their names are Luna, Maya, Majed and little Khalil. The water Alshawwa is working to protect belongs to them, after all. “We don’t own water,” says Alshawwa. “We just inherited it. Our only mission is to protect it and to give it to our kids.”

This piece was originally published on Canadian Geographic on March 22 2026.

Green Ramadan Brings Sustainability to the Holy Month

A Conversation with Environmental Activist  Kori Majeed

By Ammarah Ahmed

When Muslims gather to break their fast at sunset during Ramadan, the moment carries a sense of reflection and gratitude shaped by hours of discipline and remembrance. For Kori Majeed, a faith-based environmental activist and mother of five in Maryland, it was during these blessed moments that she realized that something didn’t feel quite right. Watching how quickly single-use plastic cups were being discarded at mosque iftars revealed something she could no longer ignore.

“They had used them for less than a minute,” Majeed recalled. “I thought about how those same cups can take more than 500 years to decompose.”

The thought lingered. Each evening in Ramadan, she saw how quickly waste accumulated at the mosque, standing in stark contrast to the mindfulness fasting is meant to cultivate. What began as a moment of discomfort soon became a question of responsibility,  one that would shape her work for years to come.

That moment led Majeed to found Green Ramadan, a grassroots, faith-based initiative designed to help fellow Muslims live mindfully and sustainably. Based in Maryland, Green Ramadan operates at the intersection of Prophetic ethics, sustainable living, and community education helping transform mindfulness from an abstract idea into a lived practice.

What is Green Ramadan?

Green Ramadan was founded in 2013 as a mission-driven environmental justice initiative that encourages Muslims to approach the holy month with greater awareness of consumption, waste, and stewardship of the Earth. 

“Since 2013, I’ve used the Green Ramadan platform to encourage Muslims to eat mindfully and tread lightly by cultivating sustainable habits during the holy month,” Majeed said. “I consider it a personal sadaqah [charity] to my local community and to the Ummah.” Its mission is rooted in the belief that sustainability is not an external value imposed on Muslims, but one already embedded within Islamic teachings. 

Rather than operating as a traditional nonprofit or commercial enterprise, Green Ramadan functions as a community-centered initiative that blends environmental activism with spiritual reflection and responsibility. Majeed’s starting goal was to help 1,000 Muslims “green” their Ramadan. She hopes not only to reduce waste at community iftars, but also to spark ongoing conversations about how faith can guide more intentional and just relationships with the natural world. 

Through educational outreach, Green Ramadan offers practical tools that make sustainable choices accessible during one of the most spiritually significant months of the year.

From a Family Challenge to a Community Initiative

While Green Ramadan’s mission is rooted in faith, its impact has always been shaped by everyday practice. For Majeed, meaningful change did not automatically begin with a large-scale campaign, but with small, intentional choices made at home, choices that would ripple outward into the wider community.

“When I initially started the idea of Green Ramadan, my goal was to change my family’s Ramadan habits so that we would waste as little as possible,” she said.

That led to the creation of Zero-Trash Iftar Kits, which include stainless steel food trays, bamboo cutlery, and napkins designed for multiple uses  at communal iftars. Majeed and her family began bringing the kits to iftars and gatherings, using them quietly and consistently as an alternative to disposable utensils.

“At first, we got curious looks,” she recalled with a laugh. Those moments proved to be an opportunity to begin a dialogue with the community centered on environmentalism. That dialogue had a ripple effect. “Over time, people started bringing their own reusable utensils too.”

What began as a simple act of modeling sustainable behavior soon became a catalyst for broader change. She began assembling Zero-Trash Iftar Kits for others as part of the Green Ramadan initiative, selling them on her website, and giving them away during Ramadan.

Opening Eyes to Sustainability

Majeed’s daughter, Rahmah Majeed, is a third-year university student. She reflected upon childhood Ramadans fondly. Being involved in her mother’s work from a young age, she grew to value her role as a steward of the planet. As an adult, she could no longer ignore the environmental cost of community iftars. “At the end of every iftar, I would see several piles of trash bags filled to the brim with plastic plates,” she said. “When you multiply that by 29 or 30 days of Ramadan at countless masajid [mosques], the amount of trash becomes impossible to ignore.”

Rahmah praised reusable iftar kits as a practical first step. “Zero-Trash Iftar Kits are a great way to make a powerful impact.” She recalled how other environmental activists in the area quickly caught on. They described Zero-Trash iftar kits as a catalyst for positive change. Kesha Abdul Mateen, a mother like Majeed, described it as a “life saver for the soul.” 

“It was different, but it started something new in our community,” she said. 

Majeed recalled the kits gaining momentum. “I started giving presentations at mosques about Zero-Waste Iftar Kits. After a certain point, I lost track of how many we distributed,” she said. Majeed encourages people to get creative in crafting their own reusable kits, emphasizing convenience and resourcefulness suited to individual needs.

Since its founding, Green Ramadan has grown from a personal family commitment into a resource used by individuals, families, and Muslim communities across the Washington, D.C. area. And as interest grew in the community, so did the scope of Green Ramadan. Today, the initiative extends beyond the kits to encompass an educational platform with a growing following. 

Green Ramadan’s Educational Foundation

As Green Ramadan grew, Majeed recognized that education would be just as essential as physical tools to combat excessive waste. While reusable kits offered a tangible entry point, sustained change requires ongoing conversation that can reach people beyond local mosques and community gatherings.

Through Instagram, Majeed uses digital space as an extension of her environmental justice activism, sharing reflections on Islamic teachings, practical sustainability guidance, and reminders that mindful living is already woven into the faith. Her posts often connect everyday behaviors to Qur’anic principles and Prophetic practice. She also hosts frequent seminars focused on Green Ramadan alongside other faith-based environmental activists. 

Majeed said an online presence allows Green Ramadan to meet people where they already are. By pairing digital education with in-person organizing, Green Ramadan expands its reach while maintaining its grassroots ethos. The platform ensures that the teachings of environmental stewardship remain visible, accessible, and relevant throughout the year.

Growing Community Impact of Green Ramadan

As these efforts saw Green Ramadan expand beyond Majeed’s own household, its influence became most visible in the ways people began to rethink their daily habits. For many participants, the platform offered more than reusable tools; it provided a language and framework for aligning faith with action.

For Sameera Tahir, a 24-year-old graduate student in Texas, incorporating Green Ramadan practices led to meaningful shifts in both routine and mindset. She came across Green Ramadan online after exploring sustainable teachings in Islam. “The Green Ramadan platform reminded me that it’s actually my responsibility as a Muslim to live mindfully,” she said. 

Sameera  was initially reluctant to confront how much her daily actions might be contributing to wastefulness during Ramadan. But Green Ramadan reminders online sparked a change in her. “I made a conscious decision to approach my daily routine differently,” she said. “The biggest change for me was making sure I didn’t use excessive water when I made wudhu [ablution].”

She also drew inspiration from the Zero-Waste Iftar Kits, resolving to make her own during Ramadan. After making these small changes, she persuaded the rest of her family to start using reusable kits too. “It’s become a habit we now maintain at gatherings as much as possible,” she said.

Eventually, her awareness extended beyond her immediate circle. Through Green Ramadan, she discovered a broader network of Muslim-led environmental initiatives, opening the door to learning about communal sustainability efforts taking place at mosques and faith-based organizations. “Green Ramadan was the foundation for my lasting commitment to be more in tune with my faith and the natural world,” she said.

Starting Your Own Green Ramadan

For many who want to engage with Green Ramadan, the question that follows is: “What can I actually do?” Majeed emphasized that meaningful change does not require perfection, but intention.

For Majeed, sustainability is a direct expression of God-consciousness. “I like to think of Ramadan as boot camp for the soul,” she said. The structure and spiritual focus of the month, she explained, create an opportunity to build habits that extend into the rest of the year. Green Ramadan’s approach reflects that philosophy. Rather than framing sustainability as an added burden, the initiative emphasizes small, intentional changes rooted in Prophetic practice. Majeed recommended three easy core habits that anyone can implement in their daily routine:

1. Use reusable materials

2. Eat less meat

3. Make wudhu like Prophet Muhammad (salla-Allahu ‘alayhi wa sallam)

Majeed believes sustainable living is about consistency. She often returns to her one of favorite Hadith, “Take on only as much as you can do of good deeds, for the best of deeds is that which is done consistently, even if it is little” (Sunan Ibn Majah, 4240). Taken together, these practices reinforce values already central to Ramadan: intention, moderation, and discipline. They also highlight sustainability as a natural extension of faith.

Today, Majeed continues to grow her Green Ramadan platform. She also chairs the Green Team at Masjid Muhammad – the Nation’s Mosque – in Washington, D.C., where she leads community-based efforts rooted in the Prophetic model of environmental justice. She hosts workshops aimed at helping people connect with the signs of Allah in the natural world, including monthly moon sightings, community planting, and educational excursions into local wildlife.

Kori Majeed is also the co-author of Forty Green-Hadith: Sayings of the Prophet Muhammad on Environmental Justice & Sustainability, an e-Book highlighting  sustainability within the Islamic tradition. You can learn more about Green Ramadan and environmental justice by following Kori on Instagram at @greenramadan.

Ammarah Ahmed is a Muslim-American journalist covering a wide range of topics spanning from Islamic identity to business, law, and politics. Passionate about fostering ummatic agency, she has written  articles that highlight the impactful work of Muslims across the globe. She also holds an LL.M. from SOAS, University of London, where she studied International Law, Human Rights Law and Islamic Law.

This piece was originally published on Islamic Horizons on March 5 2026.

Interfaith Leaders Gather at ISNA Mosque for 2026 Faiths4Climate Conversations

The event brought together a diverse tapestry of spiritual traditions, community activists, and local residents to address the moral and practical imperatives of climate justice and environmental stewardship through an intergenerational lens.

On Sunday, February 8, 2026, the ISNA Canada Centre in Mississauga served as a hub for interfaith environmentalism, hosting the third annual Faiths4Climate Conversations. 

The event brought together a diverse tapestry of spiritual traditions, community activists, and local residents to address the moral and practical imperatives of climate justice and environmental stewardship through an intergenerational lens.

Organized as a collaborative effort involving groups such as EnviroMuslims and Faith & the Common Good, the gathering highlighted the growing momentum of faith-based environmental movements in Canada. 

As the climate crisis intensifies, religious communities are increasingly framing ecological protection not just as a policy issue, but as a profound spiritual duty.

A Shared Moral Ground

The day featured a series of panel discussions, a fireside chat and networking sessions designed to bridge the gap between spiritual teachings and modern sustainability practices. 

Speakers from various backgrounds—including Muslim, Christian, Jewish, Baháʼí, Sikh and Indigenous traditions—shared perspectives on the concept of stewardship.

Participants emphasized that while theological languages differ, the underlying values of protecting the Earth and ensuring justice for vulnerable populations are universal. 

Discussions centred on the idea that faith communities are uniquely positioned to lead on climate issues because of their deep roots in local communities and their ability to mobilize congregations for the common good.

The Role of Youth and Future Generations

The day featured a series of panel discussions, a fireside chat and networking sessions designed to bridge the gap between spiritual teachings and modern sustainability practices. 

Speakers from various backgrounds—including Muslim, Christian, Jewish, Baháʼí, Sikh and Indigenous traditions—shared perspectives on the concept of stewardship.

Participants emphasized that while theological languages differ, the underlying values of protecting the Earth and ensuring justice for vulnerable populations are universal. 

Discussions centred on the idea that faith communities are uniquely positioned to lead on climate issues because of their deep roots in local communities and their ability to mobilize congregations for the common good.

Looking Ahead

The 2026 Faiths4Climate Conversations concluded with a call to action, encouraging attendees to take the lessons learned back to their respective congregations. 

The event was supported by community-building organizations like the Olive Tree Foundation and the Catherine Donnelly Foundation, reflecting a broad institutional commitment to fostering interfaith dialogue around sustainability.

As participants departed, the message was clear: the fight against climate change requires more than just technological solutions—it requires a shift in heart and a collective effort across all lines of faith and culture. 

With the success of this third annual gathering, the Faiths4Climate movement continues to establish itself as a vital voice in Canada’s environmental landscape.

This piece was originally published on IQRA.ca on February 13 2026.

Walking Forward Together: MIC Graduation Marks a New Chapter in Muslim-Indigenous Relations

Imams, Indigenous knowledge keepers, community leaders, and families gathered to celebrate the first in-person graduation of the Muslim-Indigenous Connection (MIC) program. The ceremony marked the completion of a transformative three-month journey for thirteen young Muslim leaders.

On the evening of Saturday, January 31, 2026, the Verdi Convention Centre was transformed into a space of profound reflection and renewed commitment.

Approximately 80 attendees—including Imams, Indigenous knowledge keepers, community leaders, and families—gathered to celebrate the first in-person graduation of the Muslim-Indigenous Connection (MIC) program.

The ceremony marked the completion of a transformative three-month journey for thirteen young Muslim leaders.

It was not merely a certificate presentation; it was the public unveiling of a national cause that began with a moment of deep spiritual unease.

The Spark: From the Pulpit to Action

The program’s founder, Imam Irshad Osman, shared the moving story of MIC’s origins.

He traced it back to the summer of 2021, following the discovery of mass graves at the Kamloops residential school.

Standing at the pulpit to read a solidarity statement, Osman found himself haunted by a question of sincerity.

"Was I being sincere? Or was I just reading words?" Osman reflected. "As Muslims, we had been living on Turtle Island... placing our foreheads in Sujood (prostration) on this earth. Yet we had never genuinely learned the history of those who stewarded and protected the earth for us to settle."

This discomfort became the seed for the MIC youth leadership program and the birth of Canadian Muslims in Reconciliation (CMIR)—the first non-profit in Canada focused specifically on building authentic, sustained relationships between Muslim and Indigenous communities.

A Journey Toward Justice

The evening, guided by Emcee Yusra Hassan, featured a diverse array of voices that illustrated the breadth of the program's impact.

After a moving Qur'an recitation by Hafiz Abdullah Sarfraz and a Land Acknowledgment by Hafsa Siddiqui, several guest speakers shared their perspectives on the intersection of faith and reconciliation.

Imam Abd Alfatah Twakkal spoke on the "Journey Towards Justice," while Indigenous Knowledge Keeper Mark Szkoda explored the "Co-existence of Spirituality and Religion."

Mohamed William provided a global perspective, speaking on "Indigenous Solidarity for the Palestinian Struggle," highlighting how the pursuit of justice for Indigenous peoples on Turtle Island is deeply connected to global struggles for human dignity.

MIC Alumna Maryam Sheikh also addressed the gathering, reflecting on how the local work of MIC creates a "global impact" by providing a blueprint for how faith communities can engage in decolonization and healing.

Nasir’s Keynote: Faith as a Bridge

In an address titled "Walking Forward Together," Muneeb Nasir, a pioneer in Muslim-Indigenous relations and board member with CMIR, reminded the graduates that this ceremony was only a beginning.

"You come to this moment not only having completed weeks of learning, but having taken your first steps into a lifelong responsibility," Nasir stated. "Over these weeks, you chose to listen. You chose to learn. And in doing so, you chose relationship."

Nasir emphasized that for the Muslim community in Canada, this relationship is foundational to their identity.

"Our future as Muslims in Canada is inseparable from our relationship with Indigenous peoples," he remarked. "How we belong to this land—how we feel rooted here—is shaped by how we relate to those who have always been here."

He introduced the graduates to the Islamic concept of ‘urf, or local custom, explaining that Indigenous legal orders and treaties represent the ‘urf of Turtle Island.

"Indigenous peoples give us our local customs—‘urf—the living context through which we practice responsibility, dignity, and care in the place we now call home," Nasir explained.

This commitment to knowing one’s neighbours is a divine mandate, as referenced in the Qur’an: “People, We created you all from a single man and a single woman, and made you into races and tribes so that you should recognize one another.” (49:13).

Nasir further highlighted shared values like Amanah (trust), integrity, and the Indigenous teaching of planning for seven generations.

He reminded the audience that "the pain of one is the pain of all, and the honour of one is the honour of all."

A Sacred Pledge of Allyship

A defining moment of the ceremony, presented by Saaliha Bandi, was the signing of the MIC Participants’ Pledge of Allyship.

Grounded in the principles of ‘Ahd (covenant), ‘Adl (justice), Rahmah (compassion), and Amana (responsibility), the graduates committed to challenging the colonial legacy of injustice and working toward Islah (healing) and Sulh (reconciliation) as an act of worship.

The thirteen graduates who signed this historic pledge are:

Ayesha Shah; Zahra Ali Pour; Faseeha Jamal; Hafsa Siddiqi; Laila Syed; Layla Jafferali; Ola Al Haddad; Saaliha Bandi; Safiyya Hasan; Sumayyah Jafferali; Ensaf Al-Satare; Zain Alfy and Zuhra Jafari.

A Community United in Gratitude

The "Vote of Thanks," delivered by Sumaiya Hidayathullah, recognized the many hands that supported the award-winning program.

Special gratitude was extended to the Indigenous Elders and Knowledge Keepers—including Bevann Fox, Suzie Miller, Mark Szkoda, David Bolton, Brandi Bilodeau, and Julia Kozac—who shared their histories and hearts.

The ceremony also acknowledged the support of numerous partners and sponsors.

As the evening concluded, Muneeb Nasir offered a final call to action, urging the community to choose "respect over comfort, service over silence, and relationship over distance."

He closed with a moving supplication: "Ever present God, You called us to be in relationship with one another.... In our community, we are many different people; we come from many different places, have many different cultures. Open our hearts that we may be bold in finding the riches of inclusion and the treasures of diversity among us."

With the class of 2026 now entering their communities as ambassadors of reconciliation, the seed planted in 2021 has begun to grow into a forest of shared responsibility on this land.

This piece was originally published on IQRA.ca on February 10 2026.

Wholistic Approaches: An Analysis of Islamic And Indigenous Environmental Ethics

By: Ibn Nuruddin

1. Introduction

While many in the past have discussed specific environmental concerns and proposed their fair share of solutions, one may note that many of the suggested solutions are individual fixes. Although the application of these solutions addresses relevant problems, it does not provide a comprehensive mindset that inculcates within society the individual’s role towards and within[1] nature; the kind of perspective that would permeate every facet of their lives and allow them to make responsible decisions which consider the surrounding ecosystem. Hence, I argue that it is necessary for a wholistic solution to environmental crises to consider a reconstruction of society’s anthropocentric capitalistic ethos to a more inclusive communitarian view through an analysis of multiple Indigenous and Islamic ethics, and an exploration of a different economic lens that upholds social gain over individual gain. Appropriating ethical concepts of widening our community to the larger ecosystem, and providing acknowledgement and gratitude towards nature will permit us to respect nature, thus being cognisant when utilizing natural resources.

2. The Twofold Conundrum of Individual Solutions: Potential Risks and a Lack of Structural Change

Mainstream environmentalists battle on specific fronts, and seek remedies for specific problems. The activist battling environmental injustice in a certain region proposes their solution e.g. enhanced and scrutinized supervision of industry factories and their wastes, regulations addressing health concerns for inhabitants nearby, etc., while the environmentalist countering animal agriculture suggests their fix e.g. lowering mass consumption of animal by-products, legal intervention in unethical treatment of animals, etc. In the case of an assumption of success in either scenario, they would merely be solutions for those specific types of environmental concerns. Furthermore, the individual who becomes aware of such an environmental concern would possibly alter some decisions and behavior to address that problem, while being completely unaware of another ecological issue thus making irresponsible choices in that facet. This is demonstrated in many areas of environmentalism; as a passing example, one may bring to recollection the protagonist in “Cowspiracy” where he holds meetings with multiple large environmental organizations that are unaware or reluctant to address the issue of industrial and animal agriculture (Cowspiracy: The Sustainability Secret, 2016). Moreover, some technological solutions have possible detrimental implications. For example, some solutions to managing excess carbon in the atmosphere were suggested. Amidst them is carbon capture and storage, which is the idea of removing carbon from the atmosphere and storing it within the Earth’s layers in porous rock and sand beneath impermeable rock layers that would not allow the carbon to resurface. However, the energy and monetary costs required for carbon storage are significant (The New York Times, 2014). And as intuitive as CCS sounds, the risks of such a solution are unknown. Would the carbon remain underground in the case of a powerful earthquake? Are there other causes that could release it from its subterranean location? In the case of a mass release of carbon from beneath, how disastrous would the effects be? These are merely some questions posed to one of many suggested technologies. Hence, this solidifies the need for a wholistic solution that would not only solve being reactive to environmental crises, but also being proactive to them by adopting ideologies that prevent behaviours causing harm to the environment.

By the same token, employing technical fixes would not aid with the structural changes needed to uproot environmental issues. The inherent nature of capitalism is that it requires never-ending growth for its own survival. As Robbins, Hintz, and Moore state: “… accumulation is necessary to the continued expansion of the capitalist system. The more owners, earn, the more they can put back into production and the more surplus value they can appropriate.” (Robbins, et al., 2013, pp. 104). Such overaccumulation can only exist if there is increased production and industrialization. In turn, increased production leads to overuse of environmental resources. One may observe that the more a nation is successfully capitalist, the more exponentially their carbon emissions rise. Hence, it is unsurprising that developed countries in the Global North like Canada, the United States, and Britain mainly form the 20% that are responsible for 75-80% of historical emissions creating the climate crisis (Klein, 2010, pp. 57). Capitalism is the root cause for the overuse of natural resources creating environmental concerns on multiple fronts. Because the overuse of natural resources is inherently tied to capitalism, it would come to a stop when an alternative inclusive, unselfish, non-anthropocentric economic ethos is appropriated.

3. An Alternative: Structural Changes in Ethos and Ideology

In contrast, when some ethical viewpoints of the Indigenous peoples are analyzed, one can see that interaction and even consumption of nature is done with cognisance, gratefulness, and consideration (Kimmerer, 2013). Thus, an individual adopting such a moral worldview would find it difficult to misuse or overuse natural resources. Similar notions of gratefulness, minimalistic use of resources, consideration of animals and nature in general are inculcated in Islamic ethics. Moreover, both ethical viewpoints offer similar approaches in viewing oneself as a part of the ecosystem rather than different or superior to it.

3.1 A Focus on Communitarianism Vis-A-Vis Humans and The Ecosystem

Capitalism in its intrinsic nature is selfish; it survives by the growth of the self’s accumulation of wealth, leading to industrialism as one needs to industrialize the production of commodities to sell larger quantities. On the contrary, philosophies that prioritize the community promote collective growth, reducing the want for industrialism. Thus, considering humans as one’s own community leads one away from harming nature. A step beyond that is including nature and the entire ecosystem as one’s own community, which is an ethic found in both Indigenous and Islamic ethics.

3.1.1 Community and Interdependence in Indigenous Peoples

The ethical notion of communitarianism is deeply engrained in the Mohawk people. Albeit the Mohawk were composed of different clans, they were unified even in times of difficulty. Upon the death of a clan member, other clans would arrange the funeral ceremony and would take over the duties of the impacted clan provisionally, supporting them through the bereavement (Bonvillain, 1992, pp. 24).  This community-oriented mindset was noted by Europeans. Father Simon Le Moyne in the mid-1650s stated: “No hospitals are needed among them, because there are neither mendicants nor paupers as long as there are any rich people among them… A whole village must be without corn before any individual can be obliged to endure privation” (ibid., pp. 46). Amongst Indigenous peoples, the idea of community extended not merely to other clans and peoples, rather to nature and the ecosystem itself, as can be observed in the Skywoman’s story. When she fell from the sky, the geese flew beneath her to break her fall until she reached the water. The geese could not hold her above the water for long, thus the animals formed a council, and a great turtle offered its back to rest her upon. They soon realized that she would need land to live on, hence the loon, otter, and others endeavoured to dive beneath the water to find land. They worked tirelessly until the muskrat sacrificed its life, drowning in the endeavour but resurfacing with a handful of mud. Thereafter, Skywoman spread the mud on the shell of the turtle and danced thereupon as a thanking gesture towards the animals. The land grew wider and wider as she danced, and thus the Earth was made. “Not by Skywoman alone, but from the alchemy of all the animals’ gifts coupled with her deep gratitude.” (Kimmerer, 2013). This folklore portrays the unity of animals, humans, and nature as it narrates the story of the Earth’s genesis by a concerted effort of all three.

3.1.2 Communitarianism and Economics in Islam: A Response to Capitalism

Communitarianism is an overarching ethic is Islamic tradition. Thus, one is encouraged to always consider others. In an authentic report with an unbroken chain of narrators[2], Muḥammad stated: “A believer is to another believer like an edifice; parts of it solidify other parts.” (Al-Bukhārī, 1997, Ḥadīth 2446). Furthermore, communitarianism is a central ethic in Islamic law (fiqh) in general, but in Islamic financial law especially. “The Islamic economic philosophy underlying Islamic banking and finance prioritises social welfare above individual gains… On this basis, individual satisfaction stems not only from the utilisation of resources for his/her own benefits but also from transferring the resources to others.” (Ibrahim, et. al, 2018). This is evident for anyone acquainted with the Islamic legal corpus and legal theory (uṣūl al-fiqh). Excessive price markups by businesses are prevented by the law against “ghaban fāḥish”, which is excessive profiteering when the item is being sold at an exorbitant price above its cost price (Al-Qudūrī, 2010). Exploitation through risk-free profits is eliminated via legal maxims (qawāʿid fiqhiyyah) such as “al-ghunm bi’l-ghurm”, a legal principle that states that profit-earning is legal only by risk-sharing (Al-Marghīnānī, 2006). Even in marketing, “the Islamic approach emphasizes value-maximization in view of the greater good of the society rather than selfish pursuit of profit maximization” (Saeed, et al., 2001). Marketing ethics are based on empathy towards the Creator’s creations which implies refraining from harming others, thus preventing unethical practices (Niazi, 1996). Hence, a portion of Islamic finance promotes a gift economy through the Qurʾānic doctrines of cooperation (ta‘āwun), partnership (mushārakah), generosity (karam), and communal fraternity (ukhuwwah).

In culmination, one of the biggest structures of exploitation of the poor in capitalism is eliminated by the prohibition of interest-bearing transactions. The nature of interest is to widen the gap between the rich and the poor. As the needy borrows and the rich lends, interest ensures that the needy pays even more for borrowing, becoming poorer, and the rich receives more, becoming richer. Hence in Islamic law, any loan granted with the slightest profit in return is one of the weightiest crimes; one indulging in such a transaction has declared war upon the Creator (Qurʾān 2:279). Rather, encouragement is given towards forgiving loans (Aḥmad, 2001, Ḥadīth 8711). Thus, money cannot generate money in Islamic economics. It is unsurprising therefore that the role of the bank is not to accumulate profits, nor to multiply wealthy clients’ savings. Rather, it is to support entrepreneurship and local development (TEDxTalks, 2014). Its ethical practices make Islamic finance more resilient to economic crises than capitalism (AIMS Education, UK, 2020; University of South Australia, 2013). Alternating from the current exploitative economic structure to an ethical considerate economy would promote wholistic changes in society, leading to the removal of overexploitation of nature.

3.2 The Interconnection of Acknowledgement, Gratitude, and Respect of Nature

In Islam, gratitude is a vital aspect as it is profoundly connected with a sense of respect and one’s cognisance of their place in the universe. Expressing gratitude is necessary both towards the Creator and the creation. Muḥammad says: “He who is not grateful to others is ungrateful to God” (Abū Dāwūd, 2008, Ḥadīth 4811). In the introductory verses of the Qurʾān, gratitude towards the Creator is the primary theme (Qurʾān 1:1-7). Furthermore, throughout the day, one is to acknowledge their usage of natural resources, be grateful for them, and use them in moderate quantities. Acknowledgement, gratitude, and moderate use are interrelated as one preserves that which they value and are grateful for, and gratitude only occurs when acknowledgement exists. Thus, moderation in the use of natural resources is a core tenet in Islamic law; wasting is sacrilegious. “Eat, drink, and do not be wasteful” (Qurʾān 7:31) is stated as legislation by the Creator. Interpreting this passage, the classical legal-hermeneutic scholar al-Qurṭubī (d. 1273) states “A form of wastage is that one consumes after their fill” (Al-Qurṭubī, 2019, 4:141). Alpay, Özdemir, and Demirbas interpret the “eating and drinking” in this verse as all the resources required for the continuation of our lives, not merely food and drink (Alpay, et. al., 2013). Such moderation is also to be observed in water usage. In a historic report, Muḥammad passed by Saʿd while the latter was washing his limbs prior to worship.[3] Seeing his use of water, he remarked: “What is this wastage, Saʿd?” Saʿd asked “Is it wastage [if used] in ritual washing?” He replied in the affirmative, adding; “Even if you are taking from a flowing river” (Aḥmad, 2001, Ḥadīth 7065). Hence, in Islamic ethics, consuming from nature more than one needs is seen as a form of disrespect towards nature and its Creator.

 Likewise, gratitude is an essential ethical notion embedded in Mohawk cultural practices. This is displayed in the Thanksgiving Address, a speech addressed to others at gatherings as a spiritual way of displaying gratitude to all parts of the natural world by recognizing the important status of each part. Every section of it that addresses a part of nature is opened with teyethinonherá:tons or tetsitewanonhwerá:tons meaning “we send him/them our greetings and thanks”. It addresses the waters, plants, vegetables, animals, fish, celestial bodies, the people, and the Creator. The verbiage of the address is eloquent and filled with humility; addressing the fish, it states: “We turn our thoughts to all the Fish life in the water. They were instructed to cleanse and purify the water. They also give themselves to us as food.” The last sentence depicts that the fish are acknowledged, their consumption is recognized, and gratitude is expressed towards them. This is a much humbler ethos and viewpoint than the anthropocentric behavior exhibited in consumption found in mainstream Western society. This humility allows the individual and society to be cognisant when consuming from nature.

The practice of expressing gratitude in both beliefs instills a sense of humility and respect. This allows one to understand that their place in the world is among the creation, coexisting interdependently with the natural world and their fellow inhabitants.

4. Conclusion

In conclusion, our society and infrastructure would benefit from reconstructing the current mainstream anthropocentric capitalistic worldview. Adopting alternative ethical notions from Islamic moral philosophy and Indigenous ethics would aid us to more wholistic approaches to environmentalism inasmuch as it is a proactive solution to change societal behaviour, rather addressing environmental disasters post facto reactively, making it more efficient. As much as technical fixes are relevant, a concerted effort utilizing technical solutions merged with a more inclusive egalitarian ethos between humans and nature would generate structural, thus long-lasting solutions.

Works Cited

Abū Dāwūd. 2008 Sunan Abu Dawud. (N. Al-Khattab, Trans.). Riyadh: Darussalam Publishers and Distributors.

AIMS Education, UK. (2020). Financial Crisis and Islamic Finance – Reasons of Resilience | Aims (Uk). YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7dNAgmWObNI.

Al-Bukhārī. 1997. Sahih al-Bukhari. (M.M. Khan, Trans.). Riyadh: Darussalam Publishers and Distributors.

Alpay, S., Özdemir, I., & Demirbas, D. (2013). Environment and islam. Journal of Economic Cooperation & Development, 34(4), 1-22. http://myaccess.library.utoronto.ca/login?qurl=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.proquest.com%2Fscholarly-journals%2Fenvironment-islam%2Fdocview%2F1518511203%2Fse-2%3Faccountid%3D14771

Al-Qudūrī. 2010. The Mukhtaṣar of al-Qudūrī. (T.M. Kiani, Trans.). London: Ta-Ha Publishers Ltd.

Al-Marghīnānī. Al-Hidāyah: The Guidance. (I.A.K. Nyazee, Trans.). Bristol: Amal Press.

Al-Qurṭubī. 2019. Al-Jāmiʿ li aḥkām al-Qurʾān. Cairo: Dār al-Kutub al-Misriyyah.

Auliawati, N., Prabarayi, L., Damroni, R., & Handajani, J. (2019). Effect of salat (prayer) activity on salivary status and cortisol level. Majalah Kedokteran Gigi Indonesia, 5(2), 51–54. https://doi.org/10.22146/majkedgiind.36959

Bonvillain, N. (1992). The Mohawk. New York: Chelsea House.

COWSPIRACY. 2016. Cowspiracy: The Sustainability Secret. [online] Available at: http://www.cowspiracy.com/ [Accessed 21 March 2021].

Holy Qur’an. 2001. (A.Y. Ali, Trans. & T. Griffith, Ed.). Woodsworth.

Ibrahim, M., & Alam, N. (2018). Islamic economics and Islamic finance in the world economy. World Economy, 41(3), 668–673. https://doi.org/10.1111/twec.12506

Kimmerer, R. W. (2013). Braiding sweetgrass. First edition. Minneapolis, Minnesota: Milkweed Editions.

Klein, N. (2010, February). Paying Our Climate Debt. David Lewis Memorial Lecture. Delivered at David Lewis Memorial Lecture, Toronto, Canada.

Mohammad Saeed, Zafar U. Ahmed, & Syeda-Masooda Mukhtar. (2001). International Marketing Ethics from an Islamic Perspective: A Value-Maximization Approach. Journal of Business Ethics, 32(2), 127–142. https://doi.org/10.1023/A:1010718817155

Niazi, L. (1991). Islamic law of contract. Research Cell, Dyal Sing Trust Library.

Robbins, P., Hintz, J., & Moore, S. A. (2014). Environment and society: A critical introduction. Chichester, West Sussex: John Wiley & Sons.

TEDxTalks. (2014, July 31). The Islamic perspective of banking | Wojciech Gajewski | TEDxWroclaw. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uPeIesugF14.

The New York Times. (2014, July 23). Carbon Capture Explained | How It Happens [Video]. YouTube. https://youtu.be/kigGiWQw8E8/ Accessed 21 March 2021].

University of South Australia. (2013). The rise of Islamic finance – Knowledge Works. YouTube. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P_cVuLpD_rs.

[1] One may consider that while the first i.e. the human’s role towards nature (the responsibilities one bears towards the environment while still not viewing oneself as part of it), is very well understood and discussed, the latter i.e. the humans role as a mere part of the larger ecosystem, is less acknowledged. Thus, the notion of “wilderness” was born, perceiving nature either as the “frontier” or the “sublime”. See Cronon, W. (1995). The trouble with wilderness: or, Getting back to the wrong nature. New York: Norton.

[2] This refers to the isnad system for the verification of historic reports. Using the isnad system, one narrates a report mentioning its direct source (whom they heard or transmit from), so forth mentioning each narrator until the earliest narrator to the original source. Each narrator is thereafter evaluated biographically for reliability. For example, when quoting Einstein orally, the authenticity of such a quote using the isnad system would be evaluated by its chain of narrators to the earliest direct source who transmitted it from Einstein, while evaluating each narrator in the chain. This is a genial method that was developed by Muslim historians and traditionists to preserve their tradition. This marks a significant difference in epistemic weight between Islamic sources and other Judaeo-Christian sources. On the epistemic rigour of historical reports using the isnad system in Islamic intellectual tradition especially in the ḥadīth genre, see Siddiqi, M. (1961). Hadith literature: its origin, development, special features and criticism. Calcutta University, and Aʻẓamī, M. (1978). Studies in early Hadīth literature: with a critical edition of some early texts (2nd ed.). American Trust Publication. On the stringency in the ethics of reporting or even resharing tweets in Islam, see Abiya Ahmed. (2018). “Fake News” and “Retweets”: News Reporting and Dissemination Ethics in the Qur’ān. Journal of Islamic and Muslim Studies, 3(2), 61–84. https://doi.org/10.2979/jims.3.2.05.

[3] In Islamic theology, one is required to wash limbs that are commonly used such as the hands, feet, and face prior to worship, a practice known as wuḍū. For the medical benefits of this practice, see Auliawati, N., Prabarayi, L., Damroni, R., & Handajani, J. (2019). Effect of salat (prayer) activity on salivary status and cortisol level. Majalah Kedokteran Gigi Indonesia, 5(2), 51–54.

This piece was originally published on the Foundation for Inquiry Knowledge, and Revival on December 2 2025.

Islam and Climate Change: The Prophetic Cure to Eco-Anxiety

Authored by Dr. Jibran Khokhar

Islam offers a framework for navigating climate anxiety that is both spiritual and practical. It is constituted by an ethical combination of restraint, hope, and solidarity.

A global survey published in The Lancet Planetary Health in 2021 reported that among more than 10,000 young people between the ages of 16 and 25 across multiple countries, sixty percent described themselves as very worried about climate change, and nearly half said their anxiety affects their daily functioning.

 Compared to the threat that climate change poses to our physical health, from heat-related injuries to the spread of tropical diseases, its mental health consequences are far less researched. But emerging studies reveal a mounting toll, especially among young people. Survivors of weather-related disasters report high rates of PTSD, depression, sleep disruption, and learning difficulties. For example, nearly three-quarters of the child and adolescent population in Pakistan experienced learning challenges following the devastating floods of 2010 and again in 2022.

 More recently, communities in North America have also suffered from unprecedented flooding, underscoring the compounding burden of climate-related disasters.

For young people especially, climate anxiety often manifests as panic attacks, insomnia, obsessive thinking, and a pervasive sense of hopelessness. Many feel abandoned by those in power. This younger generation struggles with what experts call the “intergenerational injustice” of inheriting the fallout of choices made by those before them.

Islam offers a framework for navigating this crisis that is both spiritual and practical. It is constituted by an ethical combination of restraint, hope, and solidarity. This approach is much needed in recent times with the rise in climate change denialism. Allah says: “Corruption has appeared on land and sea because of what people’s hands have earned, so He may let them taste part of what they have done, that perhaps they will return” (Qur’an 30:41). This verse speaks implicitly to the current crisis.

 Climate change can be considered a form of corruption born of human excess, and yet denialism persists in the face of mounting evidence. The Qur’an reminds us that such corruption is both a sign and a warning, meant to provoke humanity to change course before further destruction occurs.

Restraint against overconsumption

The Prophet ﷺ told us not to waste water, “even if you were on the bank of an abundantly-flowing river.”

Abundance does not give us license for excess. Even in contexts where resources appear limitless, restraint is part of faith. For those of us living in the wealthier parts of the world, this hadith calls on us to rethink our consumption. Islam teaches that even restraint is an act of worship and entails accountability before Allah.

​​The Qur’an makes this principle explicit in relation to eating and drinking: “O children of Adam, take your adornment at every masjid, and eat and drink, but be not excessive. Indeed, He does not like those who commit excess” (Qur’an 7:31). Similarly, in financial matters Allah says: “Indeed, the wasteful are brothers of the devils, and ever has Satan been to his Lord ungrateful” (Qur’an 17:27). Together, these verses remind us that overconsumption in any form is not simply unwise but spiritually blameworthy.

This framework becomes especially urgent when considering modern food systems. Meat production, for example, has significant environmental impacts. It increases greenhouse gas emissions through methane and carbon dioxide, contributes to deforestation, degrades land used for grazing and feed crops, exhausts freshwater resources, and causes water and air pollution. These impacts highlight how everyday choices, particularly in wealthier societies where meat is consumed in abundance, can disproportionately harm the environment. The call to moderation in food consumption is not only a spiritual safeguard but a practical necessity in preserving creation.

Sayyiduna ʿAli bin Abi Talib (ra) once said: “What is above sufficiency is israf (extravagance).”

 This wisdom shows that restraint is not about deprivation but about recognizing the boundary between need and indulgence. Living within the limits of sufficiency nurtures gratitude, reduces waste, and aligns with the Qur’anic ethic of balance.

It is important to remember that just because something is accessible does not mean it is free of cost. The same restraint that applies to food and water extends to modern technologies. Artificial intelligence, for instance, comes with a significant environmental footprint, requiring vast amounts of energy and water for data centers. This means that every choice to consume more, even digitally, carries consequences. Abundance in access should never make us forget responsibility in stewardship.

Restraint is essential, but it is only an initial step. It is simply the absence of action; how, then, should we actually act?

Planting hope

Perhaps the most powerful Prophetic guidance for our moment of climate despair is the hadith: “If the Hour comes while you have a sapling in your hand, then if you can plant it before it [the Hour] comes, plant it.”

 At first glance, this seems illogical: Why plant a tree when the world is ending? But the Prophet ﷺ was teaching a deeper principle: that believers must never allow fear of futility to immobilize them. Even in the face of ultimate destruction, action rooted in goodness for the sake of Allah retains its value.

This lesson aligns with modern research on climate change anxiety (CCA). A recent mixed-methods study of emerging adults in the United States found that climate anxiety is strongly associated with symptoms of generalized anxiety disorder (GAD) and major depressive disorder (MDD). Yet the study also found that engaging in collective action, working alongside others to address climate change, buffered against the mental health burden of climate anxiety. Individual action, in contrast, often felt insignificant and failed to reduce symptoms.

The Qur’an itself commands this ethic of collective action: “And cooperate in righteousness and piety, but do not cooperate in sin and aggression” (Qur’an 5:2). In the face of climate anxiety, this verse reminds us that strength comes from solidarity. Working together not only amplifies impact but also strengthens hearts, lessening the sense of isolation that fuels despair.

The hadith of the sapling reflects this dynamic perfectly. Planting a tree is not a solitary act. Its benefits are not limited to humans, and could benefit ecosystems and species one might have never considered. It embodies a vision of continuity that extends beyond ourselves, reminding us that what may feel like a small gesture can help restore agency, build community, and provide a counterweight to despair. Planting, in this sense, is both literal and symbolic: we plant acts of goodness whose fruits could be reaped long after we are gone. Importantly, even when the situation seems hopeless (i.e., world-ending), the act itself has weight before Allah; He grows and rewards our efforts, whether in this life or next. 

The Prophet ﷺ emphasized this in another narration: “No Muslim plants a tree or sows a seed and then a bird, or a human, or an animal eats from it but that it is charity for him.”

With this hadith, the Prophet ﷺ shows us that the benefits of a single seed extends in countless directions, becoming a source of charity and reward long after the initial act of planting. The tree continues to testify to the believer’s goodness through every life it sustains, whether human or animal.

The Prophet ﷺ reinforced this ethic when he said: “Do not belittle any act of good, even if it is meeting your brother with a smile.”

 No act is too small to matter. From planting a seed to reducing waste to advocating for climate justice, each contribution done for Allah’s sake is meaningful in Allah’s sight, even if it feels minor in worldly terms.

Stewardship and solidarity

The climate crisis cannot be disentangled from global conflict. Wars amplify environmental destruction through burning fields, demolished infrastructure, poisoned water systems, and mass displacement. This reality deepens the urgency of our advocacy for brothers and sisters in places like Gaza and Sudan, where people face not only the brutality of war but also the compounded devastation of environmental collapse.

It is important to recognize that while these conflicts may appear to occur in faraway lands, their environmental impacts do not respect national borders. The destruction of agricultural land, pollution of water, and release of toxins into the atmosphere all contribute to global ecological harm. This means that complacency is ill advised. To turn away from these crises is to ignore the fact that their consequences reverberate across the planet, worsening the climate anxieties that affect us all.

The believers are cast as caretakers not only of the earth: “It is He who has made you successors upon the earth and raised some of you above others in degrees [of rank] that He may try you through what He has given you” (Qur’an 6:165),

 but also of each other: The Prophet ﷺ says, “The Muslim is the one from whose tongue and hand people are safe, and the believer is the one people trust with their lives and wealth.”

Stewardship over the land and stewardship over human beings are one and the same. Caring for the environment is not only about protecting soil, water, and air, but also about protecting the lives, dignity, and future of those who inhabit the earth. To neglect one is to neglect the other.

The Qur’an further calls us to collective responsibility: “And cooperate in righteousness and piety, but do not cooperate in sin and aggression” (Qur’an 5:2). Solidarity in the face of climate change means linking our concern for environmental stewardship with our commitment to justice for oppressed peoples. By working together for both the earth and its people, we honor the fullness of our role as khulafaʾ: successors and caretakers entrusted with this world.

Prophetic hope in an age of anxiety

Climate anxiety is real, and its effects on young people are profound. Yet the Prophetic tradition gives us both a vocabulary and a roadmap for confronting it: restraint in abundance, hope through action, solidarity in the face of injustice, and trust in Allah’s wisdom. The sapling in our hands may feel small, but it carries the promise of shade, sustenance, and renewal for generations to come. Acting in this spirit is not just an environmental ethic but a spiritual path: one that transforms despair into worship, anxiety into hope, and a sapling into a tree of life.

References

1. Caroline Hickman et al., “Climate Anxiety in Children and Young People and their Beliefs about Government Responses to Climate Change: A Global Survey,” The Lancet Planetary Health 5, no. 12 (2021): e863–e873, https://doi.org/10.1016/S2542-5196(21)00278-3.

2. Jaime Saavedra and Lynne Sherburne-Benz, “Pakistan’s Floods are Deepening its Learning Crisis,” World Bank, September 28, 2022, https://blogs.worldbank.org/en/endpovertyinsouthasia/pakistans-floods-are-deepening-its-learning-crisis.

3. Al-Qurṭubī mentions that one of the meanings of “corruption” is “drought, scarcity of vegetation, and the loss of blessing.” See Tafsīr al-Qurṭubī, https://tafsir.app/qurtubi/30/41.

4. Musnad Aḥmad, no. 7065, graded ṣaḥīḥ (rigorously authentic) by Aḥmad Shākir.

5. ʿAbd al-Wāḥid al-Āmidī, Ghurar al-ḥikam wa durar al-kalim, ed. Muṣṭafā al-Dirāyatī, 1st ed. (Maktab al-Iʿlām al-Islāmī, 1987), 359.

6. Musnad Aḥmad, no. 12902. This narration is ṣaḥīḥ (rigorously authentic) according to al-Arnāʾūṭ.

7. 7. Sarah E. O. Schwartz et al., “Climate Change Anxiety and Mental Health: Environmental Activism as Buffer,” Current Psychology 42 (2023): 16708–16721, https://doi.org/10.1007/s12144-022-02735-6.

8. Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī, no. 2320; Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim, no. 1553.

9. Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim, no. 2626.

10. Ibn ʿĀshūr mentions the importance of the stewardship and cultivation of the earth. See al-Taḥrīr wal-tanwīr, https://tafsir.app/ibn-aashoor/33/4.

11. Sunan al-Nasāʾī, no. 4995.

Dr. Jibran Khokhar was born in Kuwait, where he memorized the Qur'an and received ijazah. He earned a Bachelor’s degree in Life Sciences from Queen's University and a Doctorate in Pharmacology and Toxicology from the University of Toronto, followed by a post-doctoral fellowship in Psychiatry at Dartmouth College. Currently, he is an Associate Professor and Canada Research Chair in Translational Neuropsychopharmacology at Western University, where he studies substance use, severe mental illness, and the effects of drugs of abuse on the developing brain. He also serves as a Khateeb for the London community.

This piece was originally published on Yaqeen Institute on November 4 2025..

Islam and Ecology Intertwined: The Islamic Perspective

In the newly released New Ecozoic Reader No. 9, İbrahim Özdemir’s contribution stands out as a crucial voice in the growing global dialogue on religion and ecology. His essay, titled “Muslim Environmental Thought: Ethical Foundations and Contemporary Relevance,” offers a compelling integration of Islamic theology and ecological ethics—challenging dominant Western-centric environmental narratives and broadening the spiritual framework of the ecological movement.

Published by the Center for Ecozoic Studies and introduced by leading scholars Mary Evelyn Tucker and John Grim, this latest issue is a landmark volume exploring interfaith and interdisciplinary approaches to the climate crisis. Özdemir, a well-respected scholar of Islamic environmentalism and contributor to United Nations climate initiatives, brings essential perspective to a collection largely shaped by Western religious and academic traditions.

At the core of Özdemir’s piece is the assertion that environmental stewardship is not a modern invention but a deeply rooted principle within the Qur’an and Islamic philosophy. Drawing on key verses and prophetic teachings, he frames the Earth as a sacred trust (amanah) given to humanity—not for exploitation, but for care, balance, and justice. Özdemir explains that the Qur’anic concept of mīzān (balance) reflects a profound ecological sensibility that calls for harmony among all beings and systems.

“Human beings are not owners of nature, but rather its stewards,” Özdemir writes. “This trust implies accountability—not only before society, but before God.”

His essay also draws historical links to classical Islamic scholars like Al-Ghazālī and Ibn Khaldūn, who emphasized the interdependence of natural and moral order. Özdemir argues that reclaiming this legacy is not just a religious exercise but a political and ecological imperative—particularly for Muslim-majority countries on the frontlines of climate change.

The timing of Özdemir’s article is especially resonant. As Muslim communities around the world grapple with the twin pressures of environmental degradation and socio-economic instability, his call for a revival of Islamic ecological ethics offers both spiritual depth and policy relevance. His involvement in the drafting of the Islamic Declaration on Global Climate Change in 2015 adds real-world weight to his arguments.

Unlike some theological texts that remain abstract or esoteric, Özdemir’s writing is both accessible and actionable. He emphasizes the importance of integrating ecological values into religious education, community practices, and even policy-making. His message is clear: ecological responsibility is not just a secular or scientific concern—it is a moral obligation grounded in faith.

Within The New Ecozoic Reader, Özdemir’s voice enriches a broader mosaic of contributions from scholars of Christianity, Hinduism, Indigenous traditions, and ecofeminism. Yet his essay uniquely positions Islamic thought not on the margins, but at the heart of the global ecological conversation.

As the climate crisis deepens, Özdemir’s work affirms the vital role of Muslim environmental thought in shaping a more just, compassionate, and sustainable world.

Read the full issue here:
The New Ecozoic Reader No. 9 (PDF)

Palestine and Climate Justice

IN RECENT years, climate justice has moved from the fringes of activism into mainstream environmental discourse. But what does it truly mean? Is it simply another term for environmental justice? While the two are closely linked, they are not the same. Environmental justice typically refers to the fair distribution of environmental benefits and burdens — like access to clean air and water or protection from pollution. It highlights how marginalised communities often suffer the most from environmental degradation.

Climate justice, however, is more specific. It focuses on how the climate crisis — and the global responses to it — affect communities unequally. It recognises that climate change is not just a scientific or environmental problem but a deeply political one, shaped by systems of power and privilege.

This distinction is critical. Communities least responsible for climate change — often in the global south — are the most vulnerable to its impacts: rising sea levels, extreme weather, droughts and displacement. These are not random effects; they reflect entrenched global inequalities, many of which are rooted in colonial histories. Therefore, it is impossible to separate climate justice from broader social justice. From extractive industries on indigenous lands to the oversized carbon footprints of wealthy nations, the climate crisis both reveals and deepens historical injustices.

What about ‘green colonialism’

ONE particularly urgent yet under-discussed concept within the climate justice movement is green colonialism. At first glance, the term may seem contradictory. ‘Green’ often implies goodness, sustainability and ethical action. Yet green colonialism describes the troubling reality of environmental and climate policies being weaponised to displace, exploit or control marginalised communities — especially indigenous and formerly colonised peoples.

Green colonialism can happen in several ways: large-scale renewable energy projects built on indigenous land without consent; conservation laws used to evict local communities under the guise of protecting nature; or carbon offset programmes that claim to reduce emissions but require land grabs from vulnerable populations. While often presented as modern, sustainable solutions, these initiatives frequently replicate the same extractive logic that fuelled colonialism.

Historically, colonial powers justified their conquests by claiming to bring ‘civilisation’ or ‘development’. Today, green colonialism enacts similar logic — only this time, under the banner of ecology. A forest planted over confiscated indigenous land may now be framed as a climate solution, even if it erases communities, knowledge systems and biodiversity in the process.

Palestine: green colonialism in full bloom

NOWHERE is the intersection of climate justice, colonialism and power more glaring than in Palestine. For decades, Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza have endured systemic land dispossession, environmental degradation, and resource extraction under Israeli occupation. Yet less discussed is how the language and imagery of environmentalism — trees, forests, nature — are used to advance settler-colonial aims.

One striking example is Israel’s use of ‘nature reserves’ and ‘green zones’ in the West Bank. These areas are often off-limits to Palestinians, who are prevented from building homes or cultivating their land. Under the pretence of environmental conservation, the land is effectively seized and later used for the expansion of illegal settlements — settlements that disproportionately consume water and energy.

The recent wildfire, the largest in Israel’s history, starkly illustrates this point. Experts traced the fire’s severity to decades of ecologically unsound afforestation policies. Since the early 20th century, Israel has planted non-native, highly flammable trees — like European pines and eucalyptus — across historic Palestine. These ‘green’ projects, while framed as reforestation, have often targeted the ruins of Palestinian villages, erasing both ecological and cultural landscapes.

According to Visualizing Palestine, over 800,000 Palestinian olive trees have been uprooted since 1967 and replaced by invasive species that threaten local ecosystems. The consequences are both ecological and political. When climate disasters like wildfires occur, they expose the dangers of applying ‘green’ policies rooted in colonial logic. Far from healing the land, these policies intensify environmental risk and injustice.

Green colonialism beyond Palestine

PALESTINE is not the only site of green colonialism. Around the world, indigenous and marginalised communities face similar patterns.

In Australia, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples have long been excluded from managing lands they have sustained for millennia. Conservation laws have banned traditional practices like controlled burning, and recent renewable energy projects have moved forward without free, prior and informed consent.

In South Africa, the legacy of apartheid still shapes land ownership and environmental policy. Green colonialism has manifested through eco-tourism and conservation areas that exclude black South Africans from land that was once theirs. The promotion of ‘pristine wilderness’ often erases the fact that these areas were once inhabited, farmed and maintained by local communities. Moreover, mining for so-called ‘green minerals’ — minerals that are critically needed for transition to renewable energy — like lithium or cobalt, often happens in poor, Black communities under exploitative conditions and with little benefit to them.

In Kenya and Tanzania, Maasai communities have been evicted from their land in the name of conservation and safari tourism. In India, forest-dwelling Adivasi tribes have been displaced by carbon offset and tree-planting schemes. In Latin America, indigenous resistance to hydroelectric dams and wind farms — projects backed by international climate funds — has been met with repression.

The pattern clearly tells us something: climate solutions imposed without community input and using the colonial logic can become tools of oppression, not liberation.

Why this matters

IT IS tempting to see green colonialism as a faraway issue. But climate justice is not a niche concern — it touches everyone. If climate policies are built on inequality, they will never be truly sustainable. A just transition requires more than switching to solar panels or reducing emissions. It requires challenging the structures of power that caused the crisis in the first place.

What can we do?

Listen to frontline communities: Indigenous peoples, communities of colour, and those most affected by climate change must lead the conversation. Climate solutions imposed from above often fail because they ignore local realities.

Scrutinise ‘green’ narratives: Not all that is labelled sustainable is ethical. If an electric vehicle depends on child labour and exploitation, is it green? If a forest is planted to erase a population’s history and culture, is it conservation?

Support justice-oriented climate action: This means advocating for land back initiatives, resisting exploitative projects, and backing community-led solutions. It also means demanding accountability from governments and corporations — not just for emissions, but for the impact of their activities on people.

Reclaim agency within our own communities: Each of us has a role to play — in our schools, workplaces, faith spaces, and beyond. Climate action is not only about carbon footprints; it’s about fighting for dignity, equity, and a liveable future for all.

This conversation is especially vital for the global Muslim community. From Palestine to Sudan and Kashmir to Yemen, Muslim-majority regions are disproportionately affected by war, occupation, displacement and environmental harm. Climate justice thus should not be viewed as a Western framework that is alien to our tradition. In fact, it offers language that resonates deeply with Islamic principles such as justice (‘adl), stewardship (khilafah), and dignity (karamah).

We must reject the role of passive recipients of ‘green aid’ or targets of environmental blame. It is time that Muslim thinkers, scholars and youth should develop frameworks rooted in Islamic ethics, environmental care, and social justice — frameworks that speak back to both climate inaction and climate imperialism. We are not outsiders to this conversation. In many ways, we are its heart.

Raudah M Yunus is a researcher, writer and activist from Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. She is currently pursuing a postdoctoral fellowship in the United States.

The article was originally posted on New Age

Jami Peace Garden: A ​new ​green ​space ​blooms in West Toronto

The Jami Mosque at 56 Boustead Avenue buzzed with activity ​o​n Saturday, May 24, as neighbours and community members gathered to plant the new Jami Peace Garden. From 9:30 AM to 12:30 PM, volunteers dedicated themselves to transforming a portion of the mosque grounds into a vibrant green space, fostering a sense of community and connection to nature.

The call to action for the planting day was widely shared, inviting everyone to participate in "a morning of community, fun, and sadaqah jariyah!" (a continuous charity). The organizers ensured that "plants and gardening tools" were provided, welcoming all, regardless of gardening experience. Light refreshments were also served, adding to the communal atmosphere.

This​ project is a testament to the power of collective effort, with the Jami Mosque expressing gratitude for the turnout. "This morning, neighbours and community members came together to launch this beautiful project — sharing their love for the environment and beautifying the iconic Jami Mosque in the heart of Toronto," a social media post stated, acknowledging the enthusiastic participation. A special thank you was also extended to the mosque's "dedicated Green Team of volunteers and everyone who came out to support!"

The Jami Peace Garden project is supported by the City of Toronto’s Pollinate TO program. This vital backing underscores a shared commitment to enhancing urban biodiversity and creating more green spaces that benefit both residents and local ecosystems. The garden is specifically designed to feature plants beneficial to pollinators, further contributing to Toronto's ecological health.

This piece was originally published on IQRA.ca on May 24 2025..

How Islam Encourages Responsible Waste Management on Eid ul-Adha

Eid Ul Adha is a sacred day where the Muslims perform their Sunnah and sacrifice animals in the name of Allah. The day commemorates the devotion of Prophet Ibrahim (A.S.) to Allah. The day helps us to withhold the traditions of Islam. At the same, it also brings along specific practical responsibilities as well particularly around the management of waste. Our Holy Prophet has repeatedly talked about cleanliness and hygiene. Therefore, our Muslims must act upon Sunnah and maintain a clean environment during this important occasion.

Protection of the Environment

Islam often calls Humans as Protectors or Khalifah of the Earth. Every human is responsible for protecting the environment and managing the waste accordingly. It means that we should not waste excessively and avoid producing waste. We must also ensure that waste management practices are utilized thoroughly and responsibly. All of these teachings become even more relevant when the Muslims sacrifice animals during Eid Ul Adha.

Tips to Manage Waste During Eid Ul Adha

Here are a few tips that can help you manage waste during Eid Ul Adha:

1.     Disposal of Animal Remains

Eid Ul Adha is celebrated all over the world by the Muslims. It is the day when Muslim sacrifice animals and perform the Sunnah of Ibrahim (AS). You can learn more about the importance of this important occasion from here. 

Islamic tradition promotes cleanliness as a part of faith. After you sacrifice, it is essential to dispose of the remains of the animal. Proper disposal of these remains helps to prevent pollution and reduce health risks. In most Muslim majorities, the local authorities provide a designated area where you can perform the sacrifices and dispose of the waste afterward. Muslims must follow the guidelines provided by their local authorities to ensure they maintain a hygienic environment.

2.     Share the Sacrificial Meat

Muslims must distribute the meat of the sacrificial animal. As per Islamic traditions, the meat must be divided into three portions: family, friends, and the needy or the poor people. Proper and wise distribution of the meat helps to keep the waste minimal.

3.     Avoid Sacrificing Animals

Islam does not promote any excessive practices, which include excessive sacrifice. We must always perform the sacrifices in moderation that align with our financial condition. Over-sacrificing means that there will be extra wastage that will be difficult to manage. Going against these practices helps to maintain a balance in environmental waste.

4.     Use Sustainable Practices During the Sacrifice

In recent years, Eco-Eid is a new concept that is gaining traction. It involves sustainable practices such as using biodegradable bags to collect waste and avoiding plastic packaging. These biodegradable practices align with Islamic values and reduce harm to the environment.

Conclusion

Eid Ul Adha is a special occasion for reflection and giving. It also serves as an opportunity for all Muslims to become the protectors of the environment. Following the teachings of Islam in moderation helps to maintain cleanliness.

Rafia is a certified Quran scholar and Islamic content writer based in Pakistan. She is passionate about educating and inspiring others through her writing, promoting a deeper understanding of Islamic principles. She occasionally writes articles for Muslim And Quran.

Government Funding for Warming Centres at Islamic Centres

Provincial funding will help create new community warming centres and lower power bills at mosques in Truro and Dartmouth.

The Province also announced funding today, April 22, to help create new community transit options for the people of Truro and the Municipality of the County of Colchester.

“I am pleased to announce this funding that will benefit people throughout Colchester and Truro, while also helping reduce the province’s greenhouse gas emissions and create more clean, renewable energy to power important community places,” said Dave Ritcey, Minister of Communities, Culture, Tourism and Heritage and MLA for Truro-Bible Hill-Millbrook-Salmon River, on behalf of Timothy Halman, Minister of Environment and Climate Change. “This type of community-led leadership is inspiring to all Nova Scotians and demonstrates the kind of action we need to create stronger and more caring communities and fight climate change.”

The Islamic Association of Nova Scotia received $116,691 from the Sustainable Communities Challenge Fund for solar panels, generators and building upgrades to their Truro and Dartmouth mosques. These upgrades will lower their energy bills, reduce greenhouse gas emissions and allow the facilities to be used as public warming centres during extreme weather events.

The Municipality of the County of Colchester and the Town of Truro received $102,800 from the fund to explore options for a regional public transit network that will be green, sustainable, accessible and affordable transportation options.

Quotes:

“The Nova Scotia Federation of Municipalities is pleased to support the Islamic Association of Nova Scotia and the Municipality of the County of Colchester through the Sustainable Communities Challenge Fund. The association’s energy modernization project will significantly reduce its carbon footprint, while Colchester’s project will provide valuable insights into energy consumption to support a regional public transit network. These projects are great examples of how communities can take meaningful action on climate change while lowering energy costs and enhancing long-term sustainability.”
— Juanita Spencer, CEO, Nova Scotia Federation of Municipalities

“With the support of the Province of Nova Scotia, the Islamic Association of Nova Scotia is making important upgrades to become more energy efficient and environmentally friendly. These improvements – like installing solar panels, battery backup systems and making our facilities more efficient – will help us meet the growing needs of the Nova Scotia Muslim community in a sustainable way. As our community continues to grow through immigration and migration from other provinces, we need long-term, cost-effective solutions to support religious and social services. The savings from these upgrades will allow us to reinvest in our community and support local businesses. As a volunteer-run non-profit, this progress would not be possible without provincial support, and we are deeply grateful for it.”
— Emad Aziz, community outreach officer, Islamic Association of Nova Scotia

“We are excited to embark on this important initiative with the Municipality of Colchester. This plan is critical to understanding the needs of our community and how best we can create a transit system that works for everyone. Together, we can develop a plan that not only improves transportation but also contributes to a more sustainable and equitable future.”
— Cathy Hinton, Mayor, Town of Truro

“We believe this study represents a significant opportunity to enhance transportation in our region, reduce environmental impact and improve accessibility for all.”
— Christine Blair, Mayor, Municipality of the County of Colchester

Quick Facts:

• the government created the Sustainable Communities Challenge Fund in 2021 as part of the Environmental Goals and Climate Change Reduction Act, its legislated commitment to reduce greenhouse gas emissions, respond to climate change, transform how Nova Scotians produce and use energy, make homes and buildings energy efficient, and more

• the program provides grants to municipalities, non-profit and community organizations, post-secondary institutions and Mi’kmaw communities to help them respond to and prepare for climate change impacts, and to reduce greenhouse gas emissions

• the Nova Scotia Federation of Municipalities was selected through a request for proposals process to develop and administer the Sustainable Communities Challenge Fund on behalf of the government

• since launching in 2022, about $10 million has been invested through the fund

• the Province’s accessibility strategy, Access by Design 2030, outlines how the government will achieve its goal of an accessible province by providing people with disabilities equitable access to programs, services, information and infrastructure

Additional Resources:

More information on the Sustainable Communities Challenge Fund is available at: https://nschallengefund.ca/

News releases about the fund and related projects: https://news.novascotia.ca/search/all?field_topics=228

Environmental Goals and Climate Change Reduction Act: https://nslegislature.ca/sites/default/files/legc/statutes/environmental%20goals%20and%20climate%20change%20reduction.pdf

Our Climate, Our Future: Nova Scotia’s Climate Change Plan for Clean Growth: https://climatechange.novascotia.ca/sites/default/files/uploads/ns-climate-change-plan.pdf

Weathering What’s Ahead: Climate Change Risk and Nova Scotia’s Well-being: https://climatechange.novascotia.ca/climate-impacts

Greenpeace's "EDUCATE Renewable Energy Toolkit" is a comprehensive guide designed to assist Islamic financial institutions in integrating renewable energy initiatives within the framework of Shariah principles. Developed by Greenpeace MENA in collaboration with Ummah for Earth and the Global Ethical Finance Initiative, this toolkit offers a structured approach to fostering sustainable energy practices.

The toolkit introduces the EDUCATE framework, encompassing six key components:

• Engage: Encouraging proactive involvement with the renewable energy sector.

• Develop: Creating sustainability frameworks that align with Islamic finance principles.

• Utilize: Implementing innovative renewable energy products.

• Capacity: Building expertise in renewable energy project evaluation.

• Align: Setting renewable energy financing targets.

• Track: Monitoring and reporting progress.

• Exchange: Participating in sustainable finance initiatives and sharing best practices.

Each section provides actionable strategies, case studies, and resources to facilitate the adoption of renewable energy solutions. The toolkit emphasizes the importance of aligning financial practices with ethical and environmental standards, highlighting the potential for Islamic finance to play a pivotal role in the global transition to sustainable energy.

By offering a faith-based perspective on environmental stewardship, the toolkit aims to inspire Islamic financial institutions to contribute actively to climate action, promoting a balance between economic development and environmental responsibility.

For more detailed information, the full toolkit is available here: EDUCATE Renewable Energy Toolkit.

Environmental Stewardship and Muslim Engagement in Canada

Environmental issues may serve as a platform for interactions between people from diverse religious and nonreligious backgrounds. I explore how individuals collaborate, navigate challenges, bridge differences, and work towards solutions in the context of environmental concerns. Islam, like many other religious traditions, encompasses worldviews and guiding principles related to the environment and nonhuman animals. This exploration focuses on whether Muslim engagement with environmental issues is driven by religious principles, or by factors beyond religion.

Hinna Hussain is a PhD candidate in the Department of Classics and Religious Studies, University of Ottawa. Her doctoral research explores the role of environmental issues in fostering interaction and engagement between Muslims and individuals from diverse backgrounds.

Prayer rug celebrating ties between Indigenous and Muslim peoples adorns new Eid stamp

Canada Post is proud to mark two festivals celebrated by Muslim Canadians with a stamp featuring the Canadian Prayer Rug

OTTAWA, ON, March 10, 2025 /CNW/ - Canada Post issued a new stamp today to mark two of the most important religious holidays in Islam: Eid al-Fitr and Eid al-Adha. The commemorative stamp features a prayer rug celebrating the connection between Indigenous and Muslim peoples – and the multi-faith collaboration that built Canada's first mosque.

The Canadian Prayer Rug was created in 2016 as a project of The Green Room, a youth-support program run by the Edmonton-based charity IslamicFamily, which provides spiritually and culturally sensitive services to the local community.

The rug was designed by local Métis artist Kit Craven and Muslim weaver Noor Iqbal, based on research and interviews carried out by youth with Indigenous Elders and descendants of early Muslim settlers.

Prayer rug commemorates relationship that resulted in Canada's first mosque

The rug's design depicts Alberta's diverse landscapes and distinct seasons. At its centre are an archway and a lodgepole pine – a tree that supports teepees and lodges and is reminiscent of the cypress of settler homelands.

Weaved with locally sourced wool, dyes and other materials, the prayer rug reflects the rich cultural and geographical history of the region, bringing together elements that honour the community's heritage.

More than a work of art, the rug symbolizes unity and multiculturalism within Treaty 6 Territory, which includes Edmonton. It celebrates the deep, enduring connection between Indigenous and Muslim communities, which helped to open the country's first mosque in Edmonton in 1938.

Celebrating Canada's culturally diverse population

This is Canada Post's seventh stamp issue commemorating the Islamic holidays of Eid al-Fitr and Eid al-Adha. Celebrated by Muslim Canadians, both events can last several days and include communal prayers and feasts, visits with family, gift-giving and acts of charity.

The Eid stamp is one of several stamps Canada Post issues each year to mark annual celebrations that are important to Canada's culturally diverse population – others include Diwali, Hanukkah and Christmas.

About the stamp

The stamp issue was designed by Kristine Do with illustration by Kit Craven and photography by Maya Visnyei. Printed by Colour Innovations, the issue includes booklets of six Permanent™ domestic rate stamps and an Official First Day Cover cancelled in Edmonton, Alberta.

Eco-anxiety, burnout and loneliness: Why sustainability work takes a personal toll

Climate Change Coaches Heather Lynch, Katherine Ellsworth-Krebs & Shona Russell explore the impact which working in the sustainability profession can take on personal wellbeing – and give advice on thriving in these careers.

If you asked sustainability professionals why they do what they do, most would speak to their commitment of driving positive change and creating a better future for all living beings.

Sustainability professionals aren’t just working to pay the bills – they’re working to create the best chances of a liveable future for us all.

Yet, despite their commitment, many face significant personal challenges.

This year, we surveyed more than 90 sustainability professionals and conducted in-depth interviews with 28. We asked about the day-to-day realities of working in these roles: their challenges, most important skills and what support would make the biggest impact on their ability to transform organizations and society.

What emerged was clear: the biggest challenges that sustainability professionals face couldn’t be solved with more knowledge or technical skills.

Instead, we found that softer skills were most important for sustainability professionals to develop: learning communication, influencing and persuasion skills and self-motivation, persistence and resilience, were what was needed for them to overcome their main challenges and be more capable of working towards a sustainable future.

Eco-anxiety, burnout and greenwashing worries

Eco-anxiety—grief, fear, and worry about the state of the planet—came up in most of our interviews. Sustainability professionals have a huge amount of knowledge about the climate and ecological crises and, as part of their job, are constantly exposed to information about food insecurity, natural disasters, biodiversity losses and other consequences of climate change.

One interviewee said: “Climate change always has this really heavy, serious weight about it…so thinking about that all the time. I think whether I realise it consciously or not, is something that definitely impacts me”.

These constant existential emotions and fears can make it hard to switch off.

Many of our interviewees feel isolated, often being the only one working on sustainability in their organisation, surrounded by people who don’t share their level of concern for the climate and ecological crises.

Without supportive communities or colleagues, this loneliness deepens the emotional toll, exacerbating eco-anxiety and in some cases leading to burnout and people leaving their roles.

Sustainability professionals are expected to be champions and motivators, at the same time as being accountability holders and challengers for their colleagues.

They’re tasked with driving large-scale change but often lack the resources, authority, or senior buy-in needed to make it happen.

In this way, sustainability professionals find themselves having to cajole colleagues to act without any direct line management or KPIs to underpin their requests. From our survey, 37% felt like their goals were always superseded by business interests and 22% said they felt burnt out by the challenges.

Participants shared they felt like sustainability was “all on them” and they are “the only one who cares”.

When we asked participants if their organisations were responding sufficiently to social and environmental challenges, 76% said “no” or “sort of.”

Many sustainability professionals worried they were contributing to greenwashing in the sense that their organisation, at times, made grand sustainability commitments but wouldn’t follow through and give sustainability professionals the support and the resources internally to make these changes happen.

For example, one participant from an environmentally-focused B-Corp said, that leadership “spent more time in the boardroom talking about branding colours than about sustainability”.

Yet sustainability cannot sit only on the shoulders of a small sustainability team or one sustainability professional in an organisation.

Supporting sustainability professionals to thrive

Systemic challenges like climate change require collective responses and there are opportunities for organisations and professional bodies to support the development of soft skills related to self-motivation, persistence and resilience that sustainability professionals said were essential.

For example, in our survey, 50% of sustainability professionals were keen for group coaching specific to this role, 34% wanted more regular engagement with sustainability professional peer networks and 27% desired 1:1 sessions with a coach or therapist to improve their efficacy at work.

Sustainability professionals are integral to the transformation of businesses and organisations to create a better future for everyone. Their resilience, mental health and well-being is essential for them to continue this critical work.

Here are three ways to support sustainability professionals and those working in the sector to increase the likelihood of achieving systemic transformations:

• Organisations and line managers: Offer professional development budgets for coaching, therapy, or access to peer networks for your sustainability staff. Or, if you only have one sustainability staff member, hire another (even part time). From our interviews it was clear that having more than one person in an organisation concerned about climate and social justice made a world of difference for motivation and momentum.

• Sustainability professionals, know you’re not alone! There are hundreds of thousands of people around the world working in organisations on sustainability, you can find solace in LinkedIn networks, national conferences and peer-support groups. Don’t think this is all on you, find some peers and you’ll discover others who completely ‘get’ the complexities and challenges you’re grappling with and you can learn from and support each other.

• Everyone, ask someone else how the climate crisis makes them feel. If we all made a little more room to talk about what it’s like when you see unprecedented weather events in the news or realise that the next generation may not have the same opportunities you experienced, it takes a weight off those tasked with responsibility for sustainability to hold space for others to process their climate grief and anxiety. We can all contribute to creating a psychologically safe and more open, honest and transparent working environment where we take collective responsibility and respond appropriately to the crises we are faced with.

This piece was originally published on edie on November 27th 2024.

There is no climate justice without Palestinian liberation

Written by Abeer Butmeh from PENGON, Friends of the Earth Palestine*

If the international community is serious about climate justice, it can no longer turn a blind eye to its own hypocrisy and the genocide in Gaza.

The world is witnessing a genocide taking place on screens, and live on social media from Gaza and the West Bank. The death toll is over 43,000 human lives – at least 56% of deaths have been of women and children.

We are shown irreversible devastation wreaked on Palestine at the hands of Israel, but the ties between the violations of international and human rights laws and militarisation are ignored. While these crimes also connect to climate change, adding ecocide to the genocide, no mention of them was visible on the global climate stage, COP29. Why?

The overwhelming human and environmental devastation of Gaza should have been made central at this year’s UNFCCC climate negotiations, to bring about climate justice and put an end to what is absolute impunity. How is it that international climate policy ignores this reality, putting so little value on Palestinian lives, humanity and dignity?

The destruction of Gaza is one of the largest cases of ecocide in recent history

This is part of a continuum that started in 1967 with the occupation and theft of Palestinian land for a colonial regime, while the Gaza Strip has been subjected to an arbitrary and illegal 17-year-long blockade. The current war creates environmental destruction that makes Gaza one of the worst ecocides in recent history.

Since the start of the ecocide, the region has undergone extensive damage to soil, water wells, critical solar energy projects and farms. Since October 2023, over 60% of Gaza’s agricultural land has been devastated or destroyed.

The war has spewed hundreds of thousands of tonnes of CO₂, equivalent to burning 31 million tonnes of coal—the output of nearly 16 U.S. coal-fired power plants running for a full year. In just 120 days, this carbon footprint outpaced the yearly emissions of 26 individual countries and territories. Rebuilding Gaza’s shattered urban landscape will drive emissions even higher, exceeding those of the 130 lowest-emitting nations. Meanwhile, the unlawful use of weapons like white phosphorus fills the air and pollutes the soil with toxic chemicals, compounding the environmental destruction.

Gaza was rendered increasingly dependent on renewable energy sources like solar power, with solar energy projects covering 20% of the area’s household energy needs. Israel has committed itself to decimating critical infrastructure, cutting off a lifeline for Palestinians. This also resulted in the cessation or obstruction of desalination plant operations and wastewater treatment plants. Effects are especially profound for women and girls whose lives and health, as a result of the cascading implications, are threatened due to lack of access to proper sanitation and emergency care. Gender justice is central to the fight for climate justice and the liberation of the people of Palestine.

Shameless peacewashing and greenwashing at COP29

The COP29 was just recently hosted by Azerbaijan, proclaiming the negotiations the “COP of peace” while pressing on as Israel’s leading oil supplier.

In a flagrant attempt to both greenwash and peacewash its global image, Azerbaijan hosts global climate negotiations while accounting for approximately 40% of Israel’s annual crude oil imports that are transported through the BTC pipeline, majority owned by BP and state-owned company SOCAR.

The complicity of Global North governments in Israel’s crimes illustrates what many frontline communities in the Global South go through in terms of climate violence. Peoples and lands are sacrificed to protect the profits of powerful elites and big corporations. It is now more important than ever for climate policy to reflect the exceedingly strong ties between climate change, corporate impunity and colonialism. We demand a ceasefire now, an end to the genocide and a free Palestine. There is no climate justice without Palestinian liberation.

* PENGON / Friends of the Earth Palestine is a member group of Friends of the Earth International (FoEI), an environmental and social justice movement. Founded in 1970, FoEI is the largest grassroots ecologist federation in the world and being dedicated to peace, condemns islamophobia and antisemitism, as well as all forms of racism, militarism, oppression and violence.

Image: At COP29, Abeer Butmeh and fellow activists read aloud thousands of names of Palestinian people killed by the genocide in Gaza. Credit: Bianka Csenki, The Artivist Network

This piece was originally published on Friends of the Earth International on November 28th 2024.