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.

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..

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

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.

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.

Could religion provide answers for climate anxiety?

Simon Fraser University's faculty of environment and its Multifaith Centre have collaborated on a pilot project to help students dealing with climate anxiety. The Ecological Chaplaincy Project launched in January. (Simon Fraser University faculty of environment)

Climate grief is a growing issue among youth in Canada, and as extreme weather events become more frequent, universities such as Simon Fraser University in Vancouver are looking at implementing ways to tackle the accompanying anxiety.

The school's faculty of environment and its Multifaith Centre have collaborated on a pilot project to assist students with this problem. The Ecological Chaplaincy project, which was spearheaded by religious studies and environmental ethics lecturer Jason Brown, launched on Jan. 29. 

"My students have expressed just the sort of low-level and background anxiety about … what's happening when there's weird weather or wildfire smoke," Brown told What On Earth host Laura Lynch. 

"Some of them admit, almost flippantly, they don't want to have kids or they think it might be irresponsible to have children. Others feel hopeless and helpless, so they are almost not sure why they're continuing with their degrees if it feels like the future is kind of slipping between their fingers," said Brown, who is SFU's first appointed ecological chaplain.

According to a 2023 study out of Lakehead University in Ontario, young Canadians aged 16 to 25 are experiencing a sense of loss related to climate change. The study reported that more than 50 per cent of study participants experience fear, anxiousness and feelings of powerlessness. Meanwhile, more than 70 per cent claim the future frightens them and more than 75 per cent report the climate crisis is affecting their mental health.

The Ecological Chaplaincy project was born of Brown's need to support students in processing their climate-related emotions. But his students aren't the only ones. Ernest Ng, SFU's Buddhist chaplain, has heard similar sentiments from his students.

Ng believes religion helps people understand their relationship to themselves and the environment and is a useful device in tackling ecological grief.

"I think one important [Buddhist] teaching and one important perspective is to see our interconnectedness with nature in the world," Ng said. "Very often … we talk about nature or we talk about the ecosystem as if we are outside of it, like we are not part of it."

Ng maintains that humans are inseparable from the natural world and that we must become more aware of how our actions and behaviours affect the planet. Practising mindfulness is an essential part of reducing harm to the environment, he said.

Despite just launching in January, Brown is already thinking of ways to incorporate chaplains from other religious traditions to ensure the project is as inclusive as it can be.

"The interesting thing that we're seeing in our times is that a lot of people are letting go of labels and identifications with religion," Brown said. "And so one of the words that I use for that is an 'interpath' dialogue. That would include dialogue with Indigenous peoples, conversations about reconciliation, but also the unaffiliated or the none-of-the-above category."

Brown hopes to arrange talking circles with the chaplaincy program, forest walks in nearby Burnaby Mountain and other activities that incorporate mindfulness and encourage students to connect to a sense of place in the world, away from their desks and without phones.

Brown hopes these kinds of activities can help students process their climate anxiety and replace it with hope.

"Grief and love [for the planet] are deeply entangled and deeply intertwined," Brown said. "And so if we want to talk about climate grief, we have to talk about love."

— Dannielle Piper

This piece was originally published on CBC Radio - What on Earth on February 22 2024.

5 reasons why people of faith are a powerful force in the fight against climate change and environmental crises

By Mehdi Leman

Whether religious or atheist, faith guides many of us. Simply because success is not guaranteed in most struggles. Our energy and motivation sometimes find their source beyond logic and rationality. Here are five reasons why people of faith can be a powerful force for a liveable planet.

1. 85% of the world’s people identify with a religion: a powerful force that can move mountains

Research has shown that over 5.8 billion people on our planet consider themselves to belong to a religious community. That means about 85% of the people on Earth identify with a religion.

Half of all schools and 40% of health facilities in some countries are owned or operated by faith groups, hence the importance of ensuring, as Ummah For Earth and many other groups are doing, that the training of faith leaders incorporates environmental issues and raises awareness of ecology in both theory and practice. 

In addition, faith-related institutions own almost 8% of the total habitable land surface – and constitute the world’s third largest group of financial investors. The issue of finance is key: in the face of deregulated international finance driven by short-term profit, alternative models are gaining strength, like Islamic finance. 

Among these billions of people driven by strong values, many have already committed themselves to fighting the ecological and social crisis in a variety of ways. Many others have not yet taken action, but are sensitive to the arguments highlighting the intersection between their religious values and environmental actionéé. A powerful force and a source of positive environmental impact that should not be overlooked.

2. Activism has always involved and been driven by people of faith

Throughout history, faith communities have played significant roles in advocating for environmental and social justice, often driven by their religious teachings and values. 

The history of the abolitionist movement, the Civil Rights movement in the United States, and the Anti-Apartheid movement in South Africa show that faith leaders and people of faith are often key players in bringing about change.

And yes, this also applies to environmental struggles. The Chipko Movement, a grassroots environmental movement led by local women in the 1970s and inspired by Hindu traditions of reverence for nature succeeded in protecting numerous forests and securing community rights over forest resources. In the 1980s, Brazil’s Indigenous communities, including the Kayapo people, resisted the construction of the Belo Monte Dam on the Xingu River, and successfully halted the dam’s construction for several years by drawing upon their spiritual beliefs and cultural heritage. In 2018, the Munduruku Indigenous People in Brazil fought to protect their territory from a construction project that would flood an area the size of New York City and would directly impact their lives and livelihoods, including spiritual practices. The Munduruku drew a map of their territory outlining sacred places that would be destroyed if the project was approved.

More recently (2016), the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe, along with other Indigenous groups and environmental activists, protested against the construction of the Dakota Access Pipeline, which threatened their sacred sites and water sources, including the Missouri River. They organised prayer camps and nonviolent demonstrations, drawing support from religious communities across the country.

3. Religious leaders and faith communities are concerned about climate and nature crises

Pope Francis’ encyclical “Laudato Si'” released in 2015, and reinforced in 2023 by the encyclical “Laudate Deum”, emphasises the moral imperative for environmental stewardship based on Catholic social teachings. The Islamic Declaration on Climate Change, also issued in 2015 by a diverse group of participants including Islamic scholars, academics, environmentalists, policymakers, and representatives from various Muslim organisations, emphasises the moral responsibility of Muslims to address climate change and its impacts. It is in the same spirit that a group of distinguished Islamic scholars from around the world released the Al-Mizan Covenant for the Earth a few weeks ago at the United Nations Environment Assembly (UNEA-6).

Commenting on extreme weather events like floods in Turkey and scorching temperatures in Iraq in 2021, the leading Sunni Muslim religious authority, Egypt’s Azhar Grand Imam Sheikh Ahmed el-Tayeb demanded serious action on climate change.

Recent surveys show that majorities in every major religious group believe the truth that climate change is happening. Survey data indicate that the majority of Muslims regard climate change as an important societal challenge.

4. Religious leaders and faith communities are actively involved in protecting the environment and the climate

Faith communities and faith-based initiatives continue to play crucial roles in fighting for the environment today, employing various strategies such as advocacy, education, community organising, and direct action.

Many faith-based organisations and religious institutions (United Church of Christ and the World Council of Churches, for example) have launched divestment campaigns, calling on religious communities to divest from fossil fuels and invest in renewable energy alternatives. 

GreenFaith, an international interfaith environmental organisation, offers training programs, resources, and campaigns to support faith-based environmental initiatives, including divestment from fossil fuels, promoting renewable energy, and advocating for climate justice policies. GreenFaith also organises interfaith environmental events and facilitates dialogue between religious leaders, environmentalists, and policymakers.

Ummah for Earth (U4E), a coalition that includes members such as Islamic Relief and the Islamic Foundation for Ecology and Environmental Sciences (IFEES), as well as Greenpeace Middle East North Africa and Greenpeace SouthEast Asia, aims to contribute to the climate movement amongst Muslims worldwide by building on Islamic values to address the vulnerability of Muslims and climate impacts. The project seeks to show how Muslim culture and values are an important guiding light for a more sustainable future while amplifying the voices of Muslim youth in the global conversation around climate.

5. Spiritual and religious values encourage environmental protection and respect towards nature

According to some estimates, our planet is home to more than 4,000 different religions and religious communities. Within this diversity there are a large number of shared values, enabling different faith communities to work together for social and environmental justice. Stewardship. Justice. Solidarity. Compassion. Balance. Peace. These are overarching values that can be identified in many religions.

Millions of people of faith believe that stewardship and upkeep of the Earth is one of the greatest offerings of worship they can give. It is part of how we practise our faith and express gratitude towards our presence on this Earth. 

Different spiritualities have specific words that echo these common values. The concept of Tikkun Olam (which means “repairing the world”) in Judaism, the principle of Ahimsa in Hinduism, Indigenous words about the environment that don’t exist in English, and the concepts structuring Islamic environmentalism that emphasise stewardship of the Earth (Khalifa) and ethical treatment of the environment (Hurma). 

People of faith understand that we all have a responsibility to maintain ecological balance and take wise decisions today to ensure a better future for generations to come. Together, we are a powerful force for a liveable planet.

Mehdi Leman is a Content Editor for Greenpeace International, based in France.

This piece was originally published on Greenpeace on March 17th 2024.

Gaza: A Humanitarian Environmental Crisis

The Islamic Foundation for Ecology and Environmental Sciences/EcoIslam (IFEES/EcoIslam), the UK-based charitable organisation dedicated to the maintenance of the Earth as a healthy habitat for all living beings, shares our grief and sadness for the great harm being wrought daily on people, climate and nature in Gaza.

Much of the critical global risks that humanity faces are linked to the triple planetary crises defined by the United Nations (UN) as climate change, biodiversity loss and pollution. For the inhabitants of Gaza and the West Bank, the unrelenting assault by Israel over the last 100 plus days, has now increased the volume of these risks manifold. The pollution of air, soil and water from one of the deadliest and most destructive bombing campaigns in modern warfare is now leading to a linked climate, environmental and health crisis. Lack of access to clean water, breathable air and functioning sanitation, are catalysts for the spread of illness, disease and death. The destruction of habitats is robbing Palestinian farmers and fisherfolk of their source of living. The climate impact of this war, which will include the costs of post-conflict reconstruction, must still be counted.

The scale of the climate impact of this war has produced more planet-warming gases than the annual emissions of 20 climate-vulnerable nations according to a recent study. The study estimated that Israel’s aerial bombardment and military response accounts for over 99% of the 281,000 tonnes of carbon dioxide emitted in the first 60 days of the conflict. This is equivalent to burning at least 150,000 tonnes of coal. Hamas rockets fired into Israel during the same period, generated an estimated 713 tonnes, or the equivalent of burning 300 tonnes of coal. Given the magnitude of destruction of this war, all indications are that the climate costs of any post-conflict reconstruction will be immense.

Experts in mapping damage from warfare have assessed that Israel’s bombing campaign of heavily built-up residential areas in Gaza had, by early December 2023, already exceeded the damage from the allied bombings of Cologne and Dresden during the second world war. The Guardian reports that according to the UN, more than 65,000 residential housing units have been destroyed, with another 290,000 damaged by bombing and fighting. To put this into context, from a conservative estimate this equates to having the homes of more than 600,000 people destroyed in a UK city the size of Glasgow or Bristol, in the space of 90 days.

Whilst the world witnesses the devastation of 1000-pound bombs being dropped in densely populated residential areas, this might make one believe that harm is only visited upon the men, women and children living inside it, environmental pollution is less visible. The human costs are immense and growing. In the first 95 days, over 23,000 deaths, mainly women and children, and more than 50,000 seriously injured have been reported. An estimated 7,000 are missing and presumed dead, their bodies as yet unrecovered from under the rubble. Israel has forcibly displaced over 1.2 million people; and is effectively starving 2.2 million civilians by denying access to adequate food, water and medicine. All of this is happening in plain sight, whilst powerful nations ignore and even block the application of international humanitarian law.

The climate and environmental legacy of this war on the Occupied Palestine Territories is clearly another casualty of war, and one which will have multi-generational impacts for a nation living in one of the most climate vulnerable regions of the world. The truth is each one of us living on this planet will suffer a share of that harm. Humanity can choose to live in balance and harmony with the planet, or we can make choices that wreak great damage, and harm on people, the land, air and seas, and all the creatures with whom we share our world. The IFEES/EcoIslam adds our voice to those calling for an immediate ceasefire to the war in the Occupied Palestine Territories, and for urgent action to work for a peaceful, just and sustainable world. IFEES/EcoIslam hereby calls on citizens and governments to include calls for:

• Immediate provision of access to safe and adequate supply of water, sanitation, food and fuel needed to ensure social, economic and environmental health and wellbeing;

• Actions to halt widespread water and air pollution that is fuelling disease and illness and the prevention of further climate and environmental harm;

• Cessation of efforts to ethnically cleanse and relocate Palestinian people, occupying and seizing their land and other assets, effectively cutting off their connections to the land and seas they depend upon;

• Equitable application of international law, without fear or favour, to bring about peace and sustainability in the swiftest means. To reduce the human misery and the climate and environmental impact which this, and all conflicts, produce; and

• Reconstruction and restoration efforts, that address the climate and environmental impact of this war on the land, water and seas which form the bedrock of the economy and ecology in Palestine.

The calamity of innocent lives lost is obvious to all of humanity. What is less obvious is the environmental destruction and long-term climate harm created by this war. War has always had a visible human, material and financial cost. We now have the knowledge and understanding to shine a light on the hidden costs: the climate and environmental impacts of war that imperil the future of people and of the planet.

As IFEES/EcoIslam we seek to make more citizens aware that the immediate human misery is compounded by the insidious and long-term effects of the climate and environmental destruction being wreaked by wars, literally thrown up into the air by bombs and acquiescence by those who are in a position to influence outcomes. We call for peace, justice and sustainability for Palestine now!

This piece was originally published on IFEES on February 8th 2024.

Sacred Stewardship: The Moral Imperative of Religious Leaders in Climate Advocacy

By: DR.KRISTIAN ALEXANDER

As world leaders, delegates and visitors embarked on the 2023 United Nations Climate Change Conference (COP 28) in Dubai, United Arab Emirates, the intersection of climate change and religion featured prominently. This gathering of global leaders provided an unparalleled platform for religious institutions to amplify their advocacy for urgent and meaningful action on climate change.

Religious traditions, often regarded as moral compasses, carry a unique capacity to inspire and mobilize communities towards environmental stewardship. COP 28 offered an opportunity for faith leaders to elevate their voices, emphasizing the moral imperatives embedded within their teachings and calling for a collective response to the climate crisis.

Historically, religious institutions were often perceived as silent on matters of environmental concern. However, the realities of climate change have sparked a re-examination of sacred texts and doctrines, prompting a renewed focus on humanity’s moral responsibility to protect the Earth.

Many religious traditions, including Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, and indigenous spiritualities, share a fundamental principle: the Earth is not just a resource but a sacred trust. In Christianity, the notion of stewardship, the responsibility to care for God’s creation, resonates strongly. The Evangelical tradition has also witnessed a growing movement known as Creation Care, advocating for a proactive role in environmental conservation.

Within Islamic teachings, believers are considered stewards of the Earth, emphasizing ethical treatment and responsible use of resources. Buddhism, with its emphasis on interconnectedness, inspires a reverence for all living beings, fostering a sense of responsibility for the environment. Hinduism’s sacred landscapes and the principle of ahimsa, or non-violence, guide believers toward sustainable practices.

One significant player in this intersection is Pope Francis, who has consistently championed environmental consciousness within the Catholic Church. The upcoming conference presents an ideal forum for the Pope to renew his call for global cooperation and sustainable practices. The moral authority of religious figures can act as a bridge between diverse nations and communities, fostering a shared commitment to preserving our planet.

Pope Francis, in particular, has been a vocal proponent of environmental consciousness. His 2015 encyclical, “Laudato Si,” boldly addresses the ecological crisis as a moral issue that demands urgent attention. In this landmark document, the Pope emphasizes the interconnectedness of all creation and the obligation of humans to care for the environment as stewards of God’s gift.

The encyclical calls for a profound shift in attitudes, urging the faithful to recognize the environmental degradation caused by human activity. Pope Francis critiques consumerism and a “throwaway culture,” calling for a collective commitment to sustainable living. His message goes beyond theological discourse, extending an invitation to people of all faiths and those with no religious affiliation to join hands in safeguarding the planet.

The Catholic Church’s engagement with climate change is not limited to rhetoric. Pope Francis has made substantial strides toward greening Vatican City, installing solar panels and committing to carbon neutrality. These actions reflect a tangible commitment to the principles outlined in “Laudato Si” and serve as a model for other religious institutions.

The 2023 United Nations Climate Change Conference (COP28) offered various platforms and hosted several events for religious institutions and leaders to partake in.

The Faith Pavilion at COP28 was a key platform for religious engagement, providing opportunities for faith leaders to call for climate action and engage in discussions on the ethical responsibilities of faith leaders in addressing the climate crisis.

Additionally, the COP28 Presidency designed a series of interfaith initiatives, including the Confluence of Conscience, a global summit for faith leaders, to collectively address the findings of the Global Stocktake and sign a declaration to progress climate action at COP28.

The Interfaith Coordination Group on Climate Change served as a coordination hub for collaborative interfaith engagement towards COP28. Furthermore, the Talanoa Interfaith Gathering at COP28 will offer a platform for faith communities attending COP28 to share their initiatives, concerns, and hopes in their work for climate justice under a Talanoa dialogue framework. The Talanoa dialogue framework, originating from indigenous Fijian culture, is a method of problem-solving and decision-making that encourages participants to address three key questions: “Where are we? Where do we want to go? How do we get there?”. This gathering provided an opportunity for participants to engage in small-group Talanoa dialogues, an interfaith spiritual service, and a shared meal for those attending in person.

Despite these promising developments, several challenges remain in fully harnessing the potential of religious institutions to influence the outcome of COP28 and beyond. One key obstacle lies in the diverse perspectives within religious communities. While many faiths embrace environmental responsibility, others may hold different interpretations of scripture and theological views on the environment. This diversity may lead to internal disagreements and hinder unified action. Additionally, religious institutions themselves may face internal challenges in implementing sustainable practices within their own communities and overcoming resistance from traditionalist segments of their membership.

Furthermore, religious communities often lack the technical expertise and resources necessary to effectively engage in complex climate negotiations. Building capacity within faith-based organizations and fostering collaboration with scientific and advocacy groups is crucial for amplifying their voices at COP28 and ensuring their participation in policy discussions. Additionally, navigating the complex geopolitical landscape of international climate negotiations can be challenging for religious actors unfamiliar with the intricacies of international diplomacy.

Despite these obstacles, the presence and influence of religious communities at COP28 were undeniable. By building bridges between diverse faiths, investing in capacity building, and amplifying their voices, religious actors can play a pivotal role in shaping the global conversation on climate change and driving meaningful action. COP28 presented a unique opportunity for faith to transcend its traditional boundaries and become a powerful force for positive change in the fight against climate change.

Dr. Kristian Alexander is a Researcher at TRENDS Research & Advisory and an adviser at Gulf State Analytics, a Washington-based geopolitical risk consultancy. He has worked as an Assistant Professor at the College of Humanities and Social Sciences at Zayed University in Abu Dhabi, UAE. Dr. Alexander’s papers have been published by numerous outlets, such as the Middle East Institute, The Arab Gulf States Institute (AGSIW), International Policy Digest, International Institute for the Middle East, and Balkan Studies (IFIMES), Inside Arabia, and Fair Observer. His research examines social movements in the Middle East and security-related issues, with a particular interest in migration in the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC).

This piece was originally published in Modern Diplomacy on December 14th, 2023.

Indigenous History Month is an Opportunity to Change your Perspective

Nakita Valerio

The beginning of June marked the start of Indigenous History Month - an opportunity to listen to, learn from, and amplify Indigenous voices and stories within all families and communities.

It's been two years since the discoveries of mass graves of Indigenous children started at residential schools and while many settler folks bought their orange shirts and got their car decals proclaiming Every Child Matters, that might be where it ended. It's a decent start but just the beginning of what must be a lifelong commitment to learning about and sounding the truth of what has happened on this land and taking concrete steps to being enablers of better systems going forward. Indigenous History Month rightfully centers the thousands of years of First Nations, Métis, and Inuit life and culture on this land and presents every settler with the opportunity to celebrate and respect histories, languages, and ways of life here while also looking inward and unsettling our own inner complacency in an inequitable colonial system we continue to benefit from. 

I'm a full-time homeschooler to my two young daughters, and while Indigenous history, culture, and literature have always been a part of what we do, this school year in September, we decided to make it the center. Indigenous stories, film, art, culture, and history have been central in our home and our schedules for the past 42 weeks. Almost every field trip has revolved around visiting Indigenous historical sites or museums, and every trip to the book or education store has focused on finding new colouring books, art projects, and crafts from their Indigenous sections.

Every Monday, we visit the public library, and our routine is the same: find EPL’s “Indigenous Collection” sticker on every book we can and we usually end up with a box full to take home and read before bed each evening. My 9-year-old even started the Indigenous Canada online course from the University of Alberta and has paired that work with listening to countless First Nations, Métis, and Inuit folks tell their stories in podcasts and vlogs. We've done a lot but still haven't even gone past the tip of the iceberg.

And still, the results have been astounding for me, driving home just how important this work really is: it’s not only that my children now scream in excitement every time they see a Métis flag from our car window, or that they can see a red dress display and tell you what it means, it's not even that my oldest daughter chose a hand-embroidered pair of traditional fur mittens as her only souvenir from a trip to the mountains; those are the little details that demonstrate how their inner perceptions of political awareness and their cultural appreciation and celebration are shaping up. It’s also that their worldviews are not mired in the dislocation of Indigenous history as mine were as a settler child growing up on the prairies, made forever peripheral or subtextual to Canada’s story.

Rather, because of this work, I clearly see in my children that it’s the colonial history that is the footnote - a horrific and ongoing aberration in the history of peoples on this land. Residential schools, the '60s scoop and child welfare are then not the only focus for “Indigenous studies” exclusively, but rather those events are part of colonial settler history, here at the late hour in the timespan of human life on this land.

Increasing my children's awareness of the length of history on this land and the diversity within Indigenous communities that have lived here is not only part of a religious injunction for us as Muslims so that people of different walks of life can “know each other;” it not only helps them better understand what was nearly extinguished and lost here to the colonial project of Canada; but it also reminds them that Indigenous folks that they have learned from all year are still here and helps them imagine a better future is possible where the Truth and the spirit of friendship on this land prevails. With this in mind, I can’t help but wonder what things might be like on a larger societal scale if families and schools took Indigenous History Month seriously as the opportunity it is to truly change their perspective. 

Nakita Valerio is the Research Director for the Institute for Religious and Socio-Political Studies, a doctoral student in Religious Studies at the University of Alberta, and is an advisor and research fellow with the Chester Ronning Center for the Study of Religion and Public Life.

This piece was originally published on the Chester Ronning Centre for the Study of Religion and Public Life on June 21, 2023.

A Ramadan reflection on Islam and climate action

By Memona Hossain

Muslims everywhere are currently observing Ramadan, a month of fasting and striving to grow their faith through prayer and acts of goodness.

• This month also marked the release of the new IPCC report on climate change, which provided the world with an urgent call to action.

• “The connection of the inner state of the heart with the outer state of physical action is the very point of intersection at which Ramadan and the new IPCC report meet. As Muslims focus on their worship…it is imperative that they make a very conscious commitment to connect their acts of worship towards the wellbeing of the Earth,” a new op-ed argues.

• This post is a commentary. The views expressed are those of the author, not necessarily of Mongabay.

This month, Muslims across the world welcomed the month of Ramadan – a blessed month during which they fast and strive towards nurturing God-consciousness both spiritually and through acts of goodness. This month also marked the release of the new IPCC report, which provides a “how-to guide to defuse the climate time-bomb,” as described by UN Secretary General António Guterres. However, what characterized this report was a hopeful urgency in the call to action. The report calls for a joint commitment by all of humanity to participate in a global effort towards a radical shift in the impacts of climate change.

As the IPCC Working Group II Co-Chair, Debra Roberts explained last year, “Our assessment clearly shows that tackling all these different challenges involves everyone…working together to prioritize risk reduction…in this way, different interests, values and world views can be reconciled…”  Different perspectives, world views, and approaches to understanding and connecting with the Earth’s wellbeing, must cooperatively form the climate action narrative.

Muslims and the Islamic world view play a role in this. The Pew Research Center identifies a global Muslim population of more than 1.9 billion, which is projected to grow significantly in the coming years. With more than 50 Muslim-majority nations in the world, along with a significant number of Muslims living in places like Europe and North America, the climate change discourse impacts Muslims bilaterally. Many Muslim nations are bearing significant impacts from climate change, while others are also living in nations that are actively contributing to climate change. An understanding of how the Islamic framework can contribute to the collective climate change narrative is crucial, and in the wake of the new IPCC report, Ramadan is an opportune time to reflect on this.

Muslim youths participating in a nature study in Canada based on Islamic teachings on the environment. Image by Fadeelah Hanif/Green Ummah.

My research depicts some insight in the Muslim environmental philanthropy narrative. Within the Islamic worldview, all things living on the Earth are perceived to be in a shared glorification and worship of God, as found in the Qur’an,

تُسَبِّحُ لَهُ ٱلسَّمَـٰوَٰتُ ٱلسَّبْعُ وَٱلْأَرْضُ وَمَن فِيهِنَّ ۚ وَإِن مِّن شَىْءٍ

إِلَّا يُسَبِّحُ بِحَمْدِهِۦ وَلَـٰكِن لَّا تَفْقَهُونَ تَسْبِيحَهُمْ ۗ إِنَّهُۥ كَانَ حَلِيمًا غَفُورًۭا ٤٤

“There is not a single thing that does not glorify His praises—but you simply cannot comprehend their glorification. He is indeed Most Forbearing, All-Forgiving,” (translation) 17:44. 

To uphold the sacred, interconnected spiritual connection between all of creation is a sacred responsibility. And the month of Ramadan is a month that should nurture and strengthen that responsibility, as the Qur’an states the purpose of Ramadan as being:

يَـٰٓأَيُّهَا ٱلَّذِينَ ءَامَنُوا۟ كُتِبَ عَلَيْكُمُ ٱلصِّيَامُ كَمَا كُتِبَ عَلَى ٱلَّذِينَ مِن قَبْلِكُمْ لَعَلَّكُمْ تَتَّقُونَ ١٨٣

“O you who have believed, decreed upon you is fasting as it was decreed upon those before you that you may attain God-consciousness,” (translation) 2:183.

Greenfaith representatives attending a 2021 People vs Fossil Fuels action in Washington, D.C., demanding that U.S. President Biden stop funding fossil fuel projects. Image courtesy of People vs. Fossil Fuels

Deepening the consciousness of the Creator implies that one should develop an appreciation, love, and authentic form of care for what has been created by God.  And the act of glorification and worship which is shared by all communities of beings on the Earth is a sacred bond which must be carefully tended to. The connection of the inner state of the heart with the outer state of physical action is the very point of intersection at which Ramadan and the new IPCC report meet. As Muslims focus on their worship as well as acts of service to humanity, it is imperative that they make a very conscious commitment to connect their acts of worship towards the wellbeing of the Earth this Ramadan.

As the United States Institute of Peace so aptly puts it, climate action “…urgently requires that we build partnership and synergy with a powerful group of allies: religious communities…who form an unparalleled channel to billions of hearts and minds.” The message that comes from religious leaders, the stories that touch hearts through belief systems, and faith-based action have greater impetus to inspire change, than numbers and graphs. The intersection of Ramadan and the new IPCC report can also welcome meaningful conversations on how the Islamic worldview can be part of the wider climate change narrative.

Participate or help organize community green or zero-waste iftars (the meal eaten at sunset to open the fast)

1. Invite local Muslim environmental groups to speak about topics related to Islam & the Earth

2. Partner with and/or fund local mosques & Islamic centers on green initiatives

3. Ensure Muslim representation in key environmental roundtables and decision-making processes

As a new Oxford University study has recently verified, simply having human-to-human conversations are “crucially important” for mobilizing climate action, and can help make meaning (and process emotions) invoked at times of crisis. Cutting across all beliefs, knowledge systems, and ways of life, climate change is calling on us to form a uniquely unprecedented response narrative.

Greenfaith delegate attending a 2021 People vs Fossil Fuels event in Washington, D.C., demanding that U.S. President Biden stop funding fossil fuel projects. Image courtesy of Tasnim Mellouli.

 Memona Hossain is a PhD Candidate in ecopsychology and has been a lecturer at the School of Environment, University of Toronto. Hossain serves on the Board of Directors for the Muslim Association of Canada, Faith & the Common Good, and the Willow Park Ecology Centre, is an advisor & content contributor for Faithfully Sustainable, and has most recently launched the Islam & Earth project.

This piece was originally published on Mongabay on April 11, 2023.

Environmental action needs to combat Islamophobia

In nature, everything depends on everything else. The environmental movement is no different. To spread the message of ecological conservation and climate change, it must also recognize and fight against the hate.

By Maham Kaleem - Well-Being Engagement Specialist

The environmental movement advocates for protection of the people and places we love, but what happens if those people are in danger every time they step out of the house? March 15 is the International Day to Combat Islamophobia and the anniversary of the horrific mosque shooting in New Zealand in 2019, in which 51 people were killed and 40 injured.

Canada is no stranger to Islamophobia, as can be seen through the various attacks on mosques through the years. One of the most recent attacks was the 2021 mass murder of a family in London, Ontario, that shook Muslim Canadians to the very core — me included.

What does this have to do with environmental action?

Beyond a fight for the planet, environmentalism is a fight for safety and survival. But it’s a fight that won’t succeed if it can’t protect the very people it’s aiming to serve.

The environmental movement needs to recognize the role it must play to combat Islamophobia and remain true to its central mission: protecting people and planet.

There is clear evidence that minorities bear the brunt of the consequences of climate change. Islam is among the most common religions of minority ethnic communities. It’s the second most reported religion in Canada after Christianity. The environmental movement needs to recognize the role it must play to combat Islamophobia and remain true to its central mission: protecting people and planet.

Being an ally for the cause only strengthens the environmental movement, as practicing Muslims draw on their principles of faith that call for harmony among all creation and to care for generations to come.

You could say that at their core, Muslims are environmentalists waiting to be engaged.

In the case of environmental action, it was found that minority communities, including Muslims, often felt loneliness, isolation and cultural taxation when trying to engage.

Research has shown that the ways in which society engages with marginalized views of conservation can significantly affect whether or not people will continue to support a cause. In the case of environmental action, it was found that minority communities, including Muslims, often felt loneliness, isolation and cultural taxation when trying to engage.

Environmentalists often aim to garner support for their cause by encouraging people to engage with nature. First-hand opportunities to connect with nature are a strong predictor of environmental activism, but how can one ignore the threat that lies for many if they were to be visible in such spaces?

An EKOS poll on Islamophobia found that Canadians were the most uncomfortable with the hijab when asked about religious garments (including the cross, turban or kippah). While symbolically there is little difference between religious garments as they can be viewed as a commitment to one’s faith, the poll shed light onto the distinct discomfort Canadians had with the hijab and how it could relate to reports of Muslims that are propagated within news and other media.

Given Islam’s central focus on protecting and conserving nature, there is no compelling reason to justify the lack of support the environmental movement gives to combatting Islamophobia.

In nature, everything depends on everything else. The environmental movement is no different. To spread the message of ecological conservation and climate change, it must also recognize and fight against the hate and anger that Islamophobia promotes.

One way that organizations, people and activists can combat Islamophobia while engaging in environmental work is to ask themselves if they are truly designing a culture in which others would feel welcome, represented and safe.

Human expression is one of the key elements that allows for bonds and friendships to flourish. By creating spaces that allow for Muslims to feel comfortable in their expression of faith and connection with nature, you are allowing a culture in which diverse people can feel safe and can help build a community where everyone treats each other with love and care.

I pray that the work I do is able to create such spaces, and that others will join me in condemning Islamophobia as we sit with grief for the innocent lives it has already taken.

Asalamo-alaikum.  

May peace be with you.

This piece was originally published on the David Suzuki Foundation on March 15, 2023.

Faith-Based Climate Action: Islam and Environmentalism

By Saba Khan,

Ummah for Earth is a global, alliance-led project coordinated by Greenpeace MENA (Middle East/North Africa) that seeks to engage with Muslim diaspora communities on climate justice. At Greenpeace Canada, we have partnered with EnviroMuslims, a Canadian organization, to create a fellowship program and support their important work. In this article, Saba Khan, Co-Founder of EnviroMuslims, explains how sustainability is a part of Islam and the group’s faith-based climate action.

Faith groups are often left out of important conversations around climate policy and community engagement initiatives related to environmental issues. But know this: our diverse perspectives can help make an impact, because we are driven by something Divine (literally): our relationship with our Creator.

This statement rings true for many religions, including Islam. Caring for and protecting the natural environment is our duty, and one that should not be taken lightly. In Islam, the term “Khaleafa” refers to being caretakers of the Earth. In the Quran and Prophetic teachings, we learn the importance of caring for animals, not being wasteful, and that we will be held accountable for any harm we intentionally inflict on the Earth. A Prophetic saying even states, “If the Final Hour [the Day of Judgment] comes while you have a shoot of a plant in your hands and it is possible to plant it before the Hour comes, you should plant it.”

There is a clear call to action for faith groups when it comes to taking climate action. And yet, there continues to be a lack of diversity within the environmental movement, which results in missed opportunities to engage with communities that have these unique and valuable perspectives. 

EnviroMuslims works to change that. 

EnviroMuslims and the Canadian Muslim Community

Created at the end of 2019, EnviroMuslims aims to engage with, educate, and empower Canadian Muslims to embed environmental sustainability in their everyday lives—where they live, work, play, or pray. We organize several community events, including tree plantings, shoreline cleanups, and clothing swaps. We have also launched a number of initiatives, such as the Greening Canadian Mosques (GCM) program.     

In 2021, our group launched GCM in collaboration with Faith & the Common Good, an interfaith charity. The first program of its kind in Canada, GCM provides mosques nationwide with online tools and resources to reduce their greenhouse gas emissions, educate their congregations on the importance of environmental stewardship, and access funding and materials to support their sustainability journey. The ongoing success of the program led to the creation of EnviroMuslims Bootcamp. A series of action-oriented sessions, the Bootcamp is dedicated to learning, networking, and supporting Canadian Muslim organizations working to embed a culture of environmental sustainability in their programming. 

With these kinds of programs and initiatives, our group provides spaces and opportunities for Muslims (nationwide) to become more involved in environmental stewardship initiatives, pursue careers in sustainability, and hold governments and other institutions accountable for climate action.

Cross-Collaboration for a Sustainable Future

EnviroMuslims has been fortunate to have found support from allies across the world, including Greenpeace Canada and Greenpeace MENA (Middle East and North Africa). Greenpeace is supporting our organization’s current programming—both the Bootcamp and the mosque project—through a fellowship program. The partnership has provided EnviroMuslims with opportunities to engage on a larger scale with the Muslim community in Canada. We have been able to participate in large events, travel to different provinces to meet with Muslim leaders, and provided support to mosques and Muslim organizations working to improve their sustainability. In other words, the fellowship has opened doors and created opportunities for us that we would not otherwise have access to. 

And that’s the crux of the matter. Cross-collaboration can promote diverse perspectives and produce innovative solutions. So, as we champion Muslim voices in the environmental movement, we are also advocating for all faith groups, as well as other equity-seeking groups, to be given the platforms, tools, and resources to continue their work and engage their communities. Because this work is also an essential part of building a more just, peaceful, and equitable future.

This piece was originally published on GREENPEACE on March 1, 2023.

OPINION Hajj: a sacred journey inviting new perspective for environmental activism

After two years of COVID-19-restricted access to the holy sites in Mecca, one million Muslims are expected to arrive as they respond to the call of hajj this year. Fundamentally, the hajj is embedded in a journey and an encounter.

Outwardly, it is an enactment tracing the footsteps of Prophet Ibrahim (a significant figure among all three Abrahamic faiths). Inwardly, it is a spiritual journey to conquer the self and to dampen the temptations of ego with the purpose to recalibrate our place in the cosmos and examine our priorities in this world. The two are intricately woven into one through the concept of the haram.

Haram literally means: to put restrictions or limitations on something — and is commonly used to imply the forbidding of certain actions to protect that which is sacred. For the pilgrim, entering this sacred state is signified by the donning of simple clothes that are meant to remove all societal representations of wealth or social differences.

Rituals of hajj are meant to tame the ego and seek a state of harmony with the surroundings. Indeed, haram is further expressed in the context of time and space. The three months of hajj are known as the sacred months. Haram also extends to the geographical area that surrounds the Kaaba in the precincts of Mecca, a space restored as a sanctuary since 628 CE. Arguably, this makes the Kaaba one of earth’s earliest protected sanctuaries, bestowing a sacredness to the place, which can be extended to the planet and the cosmos.

As humanity is reaching an epiphany in the trajectory of climate change on the planet, hajj is inviting us to explore and embrace new frameworks to address this existential threat and ground environmental action and policies in different paradigms.

Ashlee Cunsolo, a leading voice on climate change and human well-being, said “climate change is asking us to be different” and “to accept the honest truth.” But as philosopher Kwame Appiah observed, humanity’s moral failings are defined less by lack of knowledge and more by pursuing strategic ignorance by invoking tradition, or necessity, in order to avoid facing those inconvenient truths. So, reversing current trajectories will require more than science and data, but action anchored on moral and ethical paradigms to restore our broken relationship with the planet.

Firstly, the environmental protection laws must be built on a different calculus based on an inclusive legal protection framework that is extended to animals, plants, oceans, water reservoirs and land. This must aim to halt the loss of biodiversity, which has been declining sharply. The world has seen an average 68 per cent drop in mammal, bird, fish, reptile, and amphibian populations since 1970.

Secondly, we need to find a path to moderation and reverse the consumption trends of the past 100 to 150 years. These consumption patterns and human activities are altering the planet ecosystems on a geological scale. Transitioning to a net-zero world calls for a complete transformation of how we produce, consume and move around.

If we fail to reverse current trajectories, the impact of climate change on humanity will be unimaginable. For example, it is predicted that up to 250 million people will be displaced by the 2050 as a result of extreme weather conditions, dwindling water reserves and a degradation of agricultural land.

It is time for humanity to build hope by infusing different world views in the circle to address a crisis that is impacting all of creation. Hajj uniquely presents an intersectionality between religion and the environment, as it offers us a rich discourse to engage in environmental protection on a higher moral pedestal: the sacredness of the universe and individual responsibility.

Abdul Nakua, an executive with the Muslim Association of Canada, serves on the board of directors for Ontario Nonprofit Network and is a member of the Nonprofit Sector Equitable Recovery Collective.Memona Hossain, a Ph.D. candidate in ecopsychology, is an environmentalist and has served on the board of directors for the Muslim Association of Canada.

This piece was originally published in the Toronto Star on July 8, 2022.

Can Islam Fight Climate Change?

In British Columbia, Canada, massive floods and landslides are washing out roads and bridges. Thousands of people have been evacuated, and a few people have even died. Dr. Shabir Ally and Dr. Safiyyah Ally look at why extreme weather events are happening and point to verses from the Quran that emphasize the responsibility human beings have to maintain the balance God has set for all living creatures. They urge Muslims to act decisively to limit climate change and preserve the environment.

With $1 trillion to spend, imagine what Muslims could do for our overheated planet

Almost two billion people are affiliated with Islam, and if properly mobilized they could transform humanity’s response to climate change. A core idea for all Muslims is zakat, an obligatory charitable tax that yields roughly $1 trillion annually.

Reversing climate change requires trillions of dollars. Unfortunately, the numbers discussed at Glasgow are far below what’s needed.

But there is one source of relatively untapped funding capable of transforming climate funding.

The UN says 80 per cent of people identify religiously. Almost two billion are affiliated with Islam, and if properly mobilized they could transform humanity’s response to climate change.

Making this a reality would require only a small shift to yield a colossal return.

A core idea for all Muslims is zakat, an obligatory charitable tax whereby 2.5 per cent of one’s annual wealth is given to the less fortunate. Zakat yields roughly $1 trillion annually — enough to help the UN meet its 17 Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs). Or more than fifty times the $19 billion COP26 committed to tackling deforestation. Redirecting even a significant percentage of zakat could have a game-changing impact on global climate action.

Currently, most zakat alleviates poverty in very direct ways in the form of short-term humanitarian assistance. That, of course, is important. But it fails to mobilize much of zakat towards longer-term challenges. Zakat must fulfil its wider goals of addressing inequality — a core criteria of zakat distribution. And climate change will undoubtedly be the world’s biggest driver of inequality in years to come.

The Middle East, after all, is already warming at a rate double that of the rest of the world, with much of it at risk of becoming uninhabitable.

Such extreme circumstances require zakat to be applied in the holistic way it was originally intended, by pre-empting crises rather than just tending to the survivors of disaster.

There are religious precedents for doing so. After all, addressing unequal opportunities and eradicating drivers of future poverty are what justifies zakat being used for educational programs.

So why are the same principles not used to catalyze zakat into becoming one of the leading climate financing institutions?

The answer lies in climate education and understanding — or the lack thereof.

Many Islamic leaders still fail to grasp the do-or-die urgency climate action demands. Yes, they may understand that environmental preservation aligns with faith values. But do they understand the urgency with which those actions must be taken? That realization would illuminate the undeniable connection between climate action and poverty alleviation.

Addressing this deficit requires a profound and wide-ranging meeting of the minds between the world of science and religion.

This might be easier said than done, but efforts are afoot. The organization I lead, the Muslim World League, is activating its network of 1,200 senior Islamic scholars across 139 countries for such a dialogue.

To make this a reality, we invite climate experts from around the world — not least from North America — to participate.

Religion may have traditionally been viewed as the antithesis of science. But by embracing the true spirit of religious charity and engaging scientific minds for the sake of humanity, religion might just revolutionize climate financing, and save our planet.

Muhammad bin Abdul Karim Issa is Secretary-General of the Muslim World League (MWL), the world’s biggest Islamic NGO. MWL was represented at the pre-COP26 Vatican meeting of religious leaders convened by Pope Francis.

This piece was originally published in The Toronto Star on November 17, 2021.

Our Home on Native Land: Indigenous Education in Islamic Schools

By Farrah Marfatia

Humility is a great teacher, if we let it do its work. As a community figure committed to equity and social justice, I strive to continuously learn and often, that means learning from my own mistakes, however embarrassing.

I was invited with a group of people to be a change leader with the Inspirit Foundation at the annual Couchiching Conference. The location was stunning and it was an honour to appear alongside my colleagues over a weekend of community spirit building. The conference wasn’t the only thing pregnant with possibility, I also went there expecting my third child, excited to be pushing for her better future as well.

After a day of conferencing, there was a moment that has stuck out in my mind: a humbling learning moment – one that reminded me that I didn’t know everything despite my best intentions and education and, actually, I still had a very, very long way to go.

One of the conference participants, an Indigenous friend, asked a group of us if we would participate in a smudging ceremony that he was performing with others on site. I immediately felt my gut tighten up.

What exactly is the ceremony?

Am I able to participate from an Islamic point of view?

Why don’t I already know this stuff?!

Ultimately, I declined, hiding behind my pregnancy but the incident jarred me. How can I have grown up in Canada, educated in a school system that claimed to prize multiculturalism and yet, be totally ignorant of the cultural practices and values of the First Peoples of this land?

Since then my knowledge level has drastically changed and it has got me thinking more and more about the responsibility of Islamic schools in particular and Muslims in general to be learning about Indigenous peoples, cultures and histories to fill the education gaps.

Muslim Canadians have an ethical obligation to come to terms with the fact that by being in Canada, they have entered into treaty relationships with the Indigenous peoples of this land. These relationships, for everyday folks, come with particular responsibilities including knowing the truth about the history of settler-indigenous relationships and working to incorporate acts of long-term reconciliation into their lives. This responsibility is even more important for Muslim educators. Understanding the truth and working towards reconciliation, particularly through education, are lifelong commitments. And yes, it can feel impossible knowing where to start but the point is to begin somewhere and to remain consistent in educating oneself.

But, why bother?

The easy answer for educators is that the 2018 revisions to the Ontario curriculum require it. The revisions demonstrate Ontario’s commitment to respond to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s (TRC) Calls to Action and were made in collaboration with Indigenous teachers, elders, knowledge keepers, senators, community representatives and residential school survivors. The goals of the revisions are:

• To focus on strengthening students’ knowledge and understanding

• To center Indigenous histories, cultures, perspectives, contributions and ways of knowing

• To teach the colonial history of residential schools, treaties and the Indian Act.

For readers who might not be familiar with the TRC, I want to provide a brief note about what it is and encourage you to make the time to read (at least) it’s Executive Summary. From 2007 to 2015, as part of the Indian Residential Schools Agreement, the Government of Canada set up the TRC as an opportunity for Indigenous peoples across Canada to testify and bear witness to the history and legacy of the Canadian Residential Schools system (the Truth). More than 6,500 witnesses were heard and included in a new record of the oppressive colonial system. The final report is a staggering six volumes documenting this terrible history and how it continues to affect the lives and relationships of Indigenous peoples to this day. Additionally, the report culminated in 94 Calls to Action for Canadians and bodies of all strides to follow in the move towards shared societal healing (reconciliation).

It is hard to put into words the pain and trauma endured by Indigenous children and their families as documented in this report: the tragedy of thousands of broken families, of cultural and physical genocide, of the transformation of this system into modern child welfare, and the lasting effects of intergenerational trauma on survivors and their descendents. Much more important and deeper than the fact that Indigenous education is in the curriculum is the moral responsibility we all hold in bearing witness to this history and understanding our contemporary social relationships from it.

As Muslims we are continuously encouraged throughout our faith tradition to seek knowledge, to think critically about the world around us, to challenge injustice and oppression every time it happens. At a systemic level, this means taking a keen eye to the country we call home and what foundations it has been built upon. It means moving beyond the self-proclaimed national traits of what it means to be Canadian (nice, apologetic, etc) and sitting with uncomfortable truths about ourselves – that ultimately the privileges we enjoy as Canadians come with a high cost to Indigenous peoples who continue to so graciously share this land with us. Shouldn’t we want to enjoy these things together? In a way that dignifies the histories, languages, cultures and ways of being for everyone here? As Tanya Talaga noted in her recent op-ed for The Star, “Most Indigenous leaders never use the word “reconciliation” because it is not plausible when First Peoples are still fighting for basic human rights — for water, land, social services, health care and education. The reality of 2019 looks a lot like Canada’s colonial past.” And that isn’t going to change until non-Indigenous Canadians, like us, take up this cause as we would our own.

Muslims are no strangers to experiencing the trauma of colonialism and reflecting on our similarities can build mutual understanding and empathy which must underlie every reconciled relationship. Virtually every Muslim country on earth from West Africa to the South Pacific has a history of having been colonized and knows the oppression that came with it. Some countries, like Palestine, continue to suffer under occupation. It seems when we arrive in a place like Canada and begin to build our lives and communities here we spend more time focusing on our own experiences (and with good reason – anti-Muslim hatred affects all of us) and forget that our presence could be actively contributing to Indigenous experiences of colonialism.

There are challenges to taking Indigenous education seriously, however, with confronting apathy being the primary obstacle. Muslim communities are not immune to the general indifference of Canadian society to the plight of missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls (MMIWG), suicide epidemics in Indigenous communities, learning about residential schools, or centering Indigenous histories and voices. And it isn’t as if this is something new: it’s a continued part of the coldness of a system that has been built on Indigenous marginalization. Even teachers with the absolute best of intentions lack the necessary knowledge to feel confident teaching Indigenous education – a deficiency that develops in the system that produces it. As educators and educational administrators who know that we want to do better on this issue, the task can feel daunting and no one wants to cheapen these necessary lessons by going over them superficially either.

So, how do you do it?

How can we ensure well-rounded Indigenous education in Islamic schools using the new curriculum changes as a framework?

Involve parents. Social change requires a collective paradigmatic shift and that starts in families and communities. Not only have studies shown that students do better when their parents are involved with their studies, it also encourages parents to expand their knowledge horizons. Parents are the primary educators of their children with respect to learning about values, appropriate behaviour, and cultural, spiritual and personal beliefs and traditions. They are their children’s first role models, thereby making their involvement in learning this subject crucial. Schools and parents must work together to ensure that home and school provide a mutually supportive framework for the education of our youth. A great example of direct parental involvement is organizing a Blanket Exercise – an incredible teaching tool for learning about the colonization of Turtle Island that I used when I was Principal.

Get informed and be patient. A task like this only seems daunting if we are in a hurry to check it off. If we are in it for the long term, we know that we will accumulate valuable lessons and resources a lot faster than we think, giving us the confidence to continuously tackle these subjects meaningfully and confidently. When you are looking for resources, try to ensure that Indigenous peoples are being portrayed fairly and, ideally, choose Indigenous authors, artists and textbook writers to lend their perspectives and stories of lived experiences authentically. Other helpful resources include: the Ministry of Education Ontario toolkit, the Assembly of First Nations toolkit, Good Minds, the Elementary Teacher Federation of Ontario, and Queens University’s curriculum resources.

Be active in engaging students. The curriculum should come alive in schools and classrooms, and should be animated by teachers using different tools, resources and strategies to do so. Don’t be afraid to try something different like a youth exchange or classroom exercises, being careful to avoid stereotyping or inappropriate uses of culture. We can teach students until we are blue in the face but if we figure out unique ways of engaging them, we are more likely to have a lasting impact on their knowledge and outlook.

Build relationships with Indigenous communities. Indigenous education does not need to be limited to the classroom. Firstly, there are Indigenous Muslims who may attend your schools who might be encouraged to share and showcase their culture, if desired. More than that, remember that your school is a community institution and can reach out to nearby First Nations to arrange informative field trips, Elder talks at the school (fairly compensated, of course), cultural days where you hire Indigenous dancers and artists to teach the students traditional dances and other elements, or see if residential school or Sixties Scoop survivors are doing talks in your area. Students are unlikely to forget such an experience. And if the FNIM (Engaging First Nation, Inuit and Métis Youth) communities near you need some help, a school-wide drive or campaign can help build bridges and friendships that last a lifetime.

We cannot change Canada’s horrifying past but as Muslims and educators we have a hand in influencing its future. Let’s do it right.

This piece was originally published on MuslimLink on January 24 2019. It has been republished given recent discovery of 215 Indigenous children at a former residential school.