Pakistan’s rulers understand this problem well. They have built an entire governing philosophy around neutralizing it.

In Pakistan today, Senator Mushtaq Ahmad Khan occupies precisely this intolerable space. He does not command mobs. He does not control institutions. He does not benefit from the romantic mythology reserved for martyrs or political prisoners. What he possesses instead is far more destabilizing to a regime addicted to fear and confusion: moral coherence. He behaves as if ethical clarity were not a public-relations liability to be managed but a responsibility to be exercised.

That posture — quiet, disciplined, unyielding — explains why he matters. It also explains why he is dangerous.

Moral Presence in an Age of Managed Brutality

Authoritarian systems are, above all, management projects. Pakistan is no exception. It manages narratives, crises, alliances, dissent, and public memory with the meticulousness of a corporate risk department. What it cannot manage — what consistently escapes its spreadsheets and talking points — is moral presence.

Moral presence is disruptive because it refuses translation. It refuses to convert injustice into “context,” mass killing into “geopolitics,” or repression into “stability.” It insists that some acts are wrong regardless of who commits them, how eloquently they are justified, or how many uniforms are involved.

Senator Mushtaq Ahmad Khan’s politics operate in this register. His participation in the Gaza solidarity flotilla was not a publicity stunt or an exercise in symbolic humanitarianism. It was a direct refusal to outsource solidarity to press releases. At a moment when Muslim rulers perfected the art of condemning genocide in the passive voice — where Palestinians are always “dying” but never being killed — he chose presence over prose.

He crossed a line Pakistan’s generals, bureaucrats, and their Western patrons desperately prefer remain blurred: the line between rhetorical sympathy and embodied accountability.

That decision reverberated far beyond Gaza. It landed squarely in Islamabad and Rawalpindi, and in the quiet calculations of a regime that understands — perhaps better than its critics — how contagious moral consistency can be.

Two Consciences, Two Cells

Pakistan’s current moment is defined by a grim symmetry. Its two most morally resonant political figures now occupy opposite sides of a prison wall.

Imran Khan, jailed, censored, and methodically erased from public life, embodies the conscience of mass politics: the inconvenient truth that popular legitimacy cannot be indefinitely manufactured, managed, or extinguished. Senator Mushtaq Ahmad Khan, still free for now, embodies something the regime finds equally threatening: proof that ethical clarity does not require state power, mass rallies, or electoral machinery.

The regime grasps this distinction instinctively. Mass leaders can be isolated, demonized, or imprisoned. Moral leaders are harder to neutralize. They do not rely on crowds or cycles. Their authority travels horizontally, through example rather than command. It accumulates quietly, beneath the regime’s noise, until it becomes impossible to contain.

This is why Senator Mushtaq’s activism has sharpened rather than softened. Through the Pak-Palestine Forum and the Peoples Rights Movement, he has rejected the regime’s preferred compartmentalization — one in which Palestine is mourned abstractly while Pakistan is governed brutally, one in which foreign oppression is lamented while domestic repression is normalized.

He insists, instead, on linkage. That insistence is unforgivable.

The Crime of Consistency

Dictatorships do not fear hypocrisy. They depend on it. Hypocrisy is the lubricating oil for authoritarian rule. What they cannot tolerate is consistency.

“Senator Mushtaq Ahmad Khan’s politics operate in this register. His participation in the Gaza solidarity flotilla was not a publicity stunt or an exercise in symbolic humanitarianism. It was a direct refusal to outsource solidarity to press releases.” [PC: @SenatorMushtaq, US Social Media Company X]

This is what unites the figures Pakistan’s current rulers find most intolerable.

Barrister Shahzad Akbar’s insistence that law should function as principle rather than weapon cost him safety and exile. Imaan Mazari’s defiance — amplified rather than tempered by her mother, Dr. Shireen Mazari — ruptures the convenient fiction that human rights must be suspended in imperfect governments. Dr. Mazari’s tenure as minister for human rights is dismissed not because it failed, but because acknowledging it would complicate the intellectual laziness of liberal gatekeepers.

Dr. Yasmin Rashid’s endurance, Ammar Ali Jan’s principled radicalism, and the courage of Baloch and Pashtun leaders resisting erasure under conditions bordering on colonial occupation all represent variations of the same threat: they refuse to turn politics into branding. They insist on substance where power prefers symbolism.

The regime’s response is uniform: criminalization, vilification, disappearance. Consistency is met with coercion because it cannot be bargained with.

The Unnamed Majority and the Regime’s Real Fear

To focus only on prominent figures, however, is to miss how resistance actually survives.

Dictatorships are not undone by heroes. They are undone by accumulation — by the steady aggregation of small refusals. A taxi driver who speaks honestly despite surveillance. A teacher who refuses to recite official lies. A lawyer who takes a case she knows she will lose. A journalist who documents one more testimony before the knock comes.

These people will never be celebrated. That is precisely why they terrify power.

Authoritarianism survives by convincing people that their courage is singular. Fear isolates. It interrupts accumulation. It persuades individuals that resistance is futile when, in fact, it is shared.

Pakistan’s rulers invest obsessively in fear because they understand this arithmetic.

Palestine as a Moral X-Ray

Linking Palestine to Pakistan’s internal crisis is not a rhetorical excess. It is an analytical necessity.

Palestine functions as a moral X-ray of the contemporary world order. It reveals how easily states abandon principle when convenience beckons. It exposes the vocabulary through which mass murder is sanitized — “security,” “self-defense,” “rules-based order” —  how those same vocabularies migrate seamlessly into domestic repression.

Zionism, as practiced by the Israeli state, is not an aberration. It is a concentrated expression of a global logic that treats some lives as disposable and others as strategically valuable. The same logic that justifies the annihilation of Gaza authorizes the pacification of dissent in Pakistan.

When Senator Mushtaq Ahmad Khan speaks against apartheid-genocidal Israel, he is not performing internationalism. He is diagnosing a system. That diagnosis unnerves Pakistan’s rulers because it collapses the distance they rely on. It reveals that the victims of empire recognize one another — even when their oppressors coordinate discreetly.

The Regime’s Dilemma

Pakistan’s rulers depend on fragmentation — between causes, movements, and moral vocabularies. They prefer activists who choose single issues and avoid dangerous connections. They are deeply threatened by figures who connect dots.

Senator Mushtaq Ahmad Khan does exactly that. He refuses to choose between Palestine and Pakistan, between anti-Zionism and anti-dictatorship, between faith-based ethics and universal human dignity. He insists these struggles are not adjacent but inseparable.

That insistence is his protection and his peril.

For now, he remains outside prison. History suggests this is rarely permanent.

The Final Accounting

A reckoning will come. Prisons will open. Files will be read. Silence will be reclassified as collaboration.

When that day arrives, many will rediscover their principles retroactively. Some will plead ignorance. Others will invoke “complexity.” A few will insist they were merely pragmatic.

Very few will be able to say they spoke plainly when plain speech carried a cost.

Senator Mushtaq Ahmad Khan will be among them.

So will the thousands whose names will never appear in essays like this.

Dictatorships do not fall because they are exposed. They fall because they are exhausted by the relentless refusal of ordinary people to surrender their moral vocabulary.

That refusal is Pakistan’s most valuable resource.

And it remains — despite everything — uncaptured.

[Disclaimer: this article reflects the views of the author, and not necessarily those of MuslimMatters; a non-profit organization that welcomes editorials with diverse political perspectives.]

Related:

– Allies In War, Enemies In Peace: The Unraveling Of Pakistan–Taliban Relations

– The Graveyard Of Normalcy – New Report Uncovers Egregious Human Rights Violations In Indian-occupied Kashmir

The post Op-Ed: From Pakistan To Gaza – Why Senator Mushtaq Ahmad Khan Terrifies Power And Zionism appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

With Israel’s recent recognition of Somaliland, many in the Muslim world are hearing about the country for the first time. It is an unfortunate introduction to a nation that, for those who have followed it, has long been a quiet success story. Somaliland has been synonymous with peace, stability, post-conflict reconstruction, reconciliation, and democratic governance in an otherwise unstable region. Now it is reduced to a single data point and reframed almost entirely as an Israeli project. That framing has come to define the country in the eyes of many.

For those genuinely interested in Somaliland’s history, Mark Bradbury’s Becoming Somaliland presents a comprehensive account. For shorter reads, see nearly any serious article written about Somaliland prior to this week’s announcement. They all tell the same story of resilience despite the odds.

Why Somaliland Deserves Recognition

Somaliland was a recognized state before voluntarily entering a union with Somalia in 1960; a union that failed because political power was centralized in Mogadishu. The presidency and premiership were held by Somalia. Budget allocations were deeply unequal, with Somaliland receiving roughly 10 percent of national spending despite representing at least a quarter of the population.

More devastatingly, a prominent clan in Somaliland, the Isaaq, was targeted as a matter of state policy. Military communiqués instructed senior officers to “break the back of the Isaaq,” advising them to “leave nothing but the crows,”; language widely understood as genocidal intent. These findings were backed up by a 2001 UN Report that concluded “the crime of genocide was conceived, planned and perpetrated by the Somali Government against the Isaaq people of northern Somalia between 1987 and 1989.” Human Rights Watch documented that at least 50,000 Isaaq civilians were killed by the Somali state between 1987 and 1989, with locals estimating as many as 100,000 lives lost. The scale of destruction left the capital and other major cities in Somaliland flattened. The trauma and devastation formed a major impetus for autonomy.

Since withdrawing from the union in 1991, Somaliland has been saddled with failures that are not its own. Somalilanders live with the consequences of a collapsed Somali state next door. They are effectively trapped, unable to travel freely, holding passports that grant entry to very few countries. The country cannot meaningfully leverage its natural resources because international investors are reluctant to commit capital in an uncertain legal environment. Oil and minerals remain locked in the ground.

Somaliland is repeatedly told to wait for Somalia to right itself. After more than three decades, that demand is wearing thin. Somalia continues to struggle with corruption, patronage, and fragile governance. Somalilanders are expected to remain hostage to that reality indefinitely.

Why Recognition Matters

Being a recognized state enables access to international investment, bilateral trade, tourism, and travel. It allows education systems and professional credentials to be formally recognized. It better facilitates improved health outcomes and prevents deaths from curable and preventable diseases.

Somaliland and Somalia rank among the lowest globally on social development indicators. In Somaliland’s case, the government has effectively operated like a nonprofit state, relying on port revenues, taxes, and remittances. There is no access to sovereign debt or international capital markets. Even its reserve banking relies on Djibouti’s patronage. Infrastructure projects and basic social services often depend on the generosity of partners such as the UAE. This is not a viable long-term model for any country.

Residents wave Somaliland flags as they gather to celebrate Israel’s announcement recognizing Somaliland’s statehood in downtown Hargeisa. [PC: Farhan Aleli/AFP via Getty Images]

Most importantly, recognition has been the collective aspiration of Somaliland’s 6.2 million people. It is a legitimate national ambition, and one to which every people is entitled.

Why Somalilanders Are Celebrating

What Somalilanders are celebrating is not Israel. It is proximity to recognition. Speaking with friends and family back in Somaliland, the mood is jubilant and gleeful. Crowds are beaming with a sense of pride for a promise that has begun to come true. Yet for many non-Somalilanders, the jubilation is difficult to understand as they remain fixated on who recognized Somaliland first. This, I believe, misses the point entirely. Somalilanders do not harbor any special affection for Israel. They abhor the genocidal state as much as any Muslim, but for Somalilanders, the significance of the moment lies in the fact that recognition has begun at all.

That said, there have been videos and images of Israeli flag-carrying youth, outrageous comments from excited but ignorant Somalilanders. The individuals publicly praising Israel or Netanyahu represent a small minority. The same few images and videos are circulated repeatedly by observers, unfortunately seeking to make a broader political argument. This amplification is deliberate and misleading.

A Call For Caution And Respect

Everywhere in the Muslim world, we are led by despots and tyrants who sell out their people and the broader Muslim world. With every leader and every instance of betrayal, we are reminded that the government is not its people. We can condemn governments for their decisions, but we do not condemn an entire population for its aspirations.

Much of the online discourse has devolved into abuse. Accusations of disbelief and moral betrayal are casually deployed. Scripture is quoted selectively, while the same standards are rarely applied to Muslims from countries that maintain cordial, strategic, transactional, or openly friendly relations with Israel.

Moralizing From Comfort

“Some of you may die, but that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.” – Lord Farquaad

It is easy to condemn choices that do not affect you. From the comfort of warm homes in the UK, the US, or Canada, people lecture those living with limited access to opportunity, mobility, and capital. I’ve heard some say, “you don’t drink seawater just because you’re thirsty,” in relation to Somaliland’s deal with Israel. A more astute and honest comparison would be, you don’t chastise the man in the desert with nothing to eat but swine.

Somaliland could have been recognized by Somalia itself or by any Muslim-majority state. None did. Instead, Somaliland was left to navigate a world where others preferred to prop up a nominal government with little legitimacy in Somalia itself and virtually none in Somaliland.

To tell Somalilanders to refuse recognition from Israel is, in effect, to tell them to reject recognition altogether. To condemn its people to permanent isolation.

What Were Somaliland’s Options?

Former US president Joe Biden captured a well-understood concept in electoral politics when he argued, “Don’t compare me to the Almighty, compare me to the alternative.” It may feel moral to hold Somaliland to an ideal, but a fairer and more practical assessment of reality demands comparison to the alternative. If Somaliland had rejected Israel’s recognition, it still would have been a signatory by default.

The reality of the matter is that Somalia itself had sought closer ties with Israel and was actively pursuing inclusion in the Abraham Accords through U.S. lobbying efforts. The Somali government paid conservative lobbyists BGR Group $50,000/month in an attempt to curry favor with the new US administration, block potential US -Somaliland recognition, and, notably, join the Abraham Accords, as evidenced by leaked email correspondence. These efforts failed not because of moral restraint, but because Somalia lacks effective control over its territory, most especially the Gulf of Aden.

While many continue to approach this issue through a moral lens, international politics does not operate on virtue. States act in their own interest. To expect otherwise from Somaliland is divorced from reality.

On Instability And Fear-mongering

Claims that recognition will destabilize the region raise a basic question: what stability, and for whom?

Somalia remains deeply unstable, with credible threats of political fragmentation and rival administrations. Somaliland, by contrast, has maintained internal stability for decades.

Assertions that recognition will trigger armed escalation from various tribes are routinely overstated. Claims that largely reflect a limited understanding of local political dynamics. While tensions exist, as they do in any plural society, they have not and do not constitute an existential threat.

Claims that this will strengthen the Somali-based Al-Shabaab terror group are also misguided. Al-Shabab has no operational presence in Somaliland and remains focused on overtaking Mogadishu as they continue to make inroads towards the capital. Recognition does not meaningfully make them more or less likely to be motivated to overthrow the Mogadishu government.

What Comes Next?

Condemnation from Arab, Muslim, and African states presents challenges, but it is not the deathblow opponents to Somaliland recognition might think it is.

Even if the United States, the United Kingdom, the UAE, and other Somaliland-friendly countries deny Somaliland’s legitimate claim to independence today, there is little reason to believe that position will not change in the near future. States operate on their own timelines and through their own processes, and any serious observer of international politics knows there is little daylight between Israeli, American, and Emirati strategic interests in the Red Sea and Gulf of Aden. Stern words and denunciations may slow momentum, but they no longer amount to a death sentence for Somaliland.

The precedent has been set. Over time, more states will recognize that propping up a nominal Somali government while ignoring Somaliland’s lived reality is neither principled nor sustainable. Turkiye will seek to maintain its control over the Somali government, Saudi Arabia will attempt to counter Emirate influence, but sooner or later, states will operate in their own interest.

With the seal of recognition broken, Somaliland will need to make the case for recognition to countries beyond Israel: to prove to the Muslim world that they are worth a second look.

And while I recognize the stain of normalizing relations with Israel may never be washed out, I hope this recognition results in lives saved through improved economic conditions, better healthcare, and stronger educational outcomes. More than anything, I hope there is an opportunity to reintroduce Somaliland to the world in a way that we can all be proud of.

[Disclaimer: this article reflects the views of the author, and not necessarily those of MuslimMatters; a non-profit organization that welcomes editorials with diverse political perspectives.]

Related:

– What A Rubio: United States Throws Weight Behind Israel After Aggression On Qatar

– 150 Muslim Leaders And Institutions Now Say Arab Muslim Nations Should Cancel Abraham Accords, Suspend Oil Sales, Close Airspace To Israel, And Send Diplomatic Aid Mission To Gaza

The post Op-Ed: Understanding The Somaliland Recognition Decision – A Counterargument To The Prevailing Muslim Consensus appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

Going Out For Coffee

On the evening of Sunday, December 14, Bondi Beach was crowded in the way only a summer Sunday allows. Thousands of people filled the promenade and shoreline, lingering at the end of the weekend. Among them were hundreds gathered for Chanukah by the Sea, a public celebration marking the beginning of the eight-day Hanukkah festival, held in a small park just off the beachfront.

Ahmed al-Ahmed was there for a far more ordinary reason. He had gone to Bondi with a friend for coffee. A simple plan. An unremarkable outing. Ahmed was not attending the celebration, not looking for spectacle, and certainly not expecting violence.

Ahmed is 43 years old, a Syrian immigrant from the town of Idlib, who arrived in Australia in 2006. Over nearly two decades, he built a life through patience and work. He became an Australian citizen, opened and ran a small convenience and tobacco store, married, and became the father of two young daughters, aged three and six. His parents, long separated from him by war and displacement, had only recently been able to reunite with him in Sydney.

Shots Across The Sand

Shortly after 6:45 pm, the ordinary rhythm of Bondi Beach shattered.

Witnesses reported that two gunmen opened fire from an elevated footbridge leading toward the beach. Shots echoed across the sand. Video footage later showed people in swimwear sprinting for cover, scattering across open ground with nowhere to hide. Panic spread instantly. Parents grabbed children. Strangers dropped flat. The attack continued for several minutes before police were able to intervene.

Ahmed and his friend arrived to scenes of chaos.

Speaking to Australia’s ABC, Ahmed’s father, Mohamed Fateh al-Ahmed, said his son was shocked by what he saw when they reached the area. Armed men firing into crowds. People lying on the ground. Blood visible on the pavement.

“Their lives were in danger,” his father said. “He noticed one of the armed men at a distance.”

According to the family, Ahmed saw people lying wounded on the ground, some bleeding heavily. At that point, calculation gave way to instinct, and perhaps to training as well, as reports say that Ahmed had been a policeman in his native Syria.

“When he saw people laying on the ground and the blood everywhere,” his father said, “immediately his conscience and his soul compelled him to pounce on one of the terrorists and rid him of his weapon.”

Making A Move

A screenshot shows Ahmed Al-Ahmed wrestling with one of the shooters.

At some point during the attack, Ahmed began sneaking up on one of the gunmen. Reports say that the attacker had momentarily exhausted his ammunition, but I have watched the video several times and there was no indication of that. Rather, it appears that Ahmed crept up between two parked cars, and – as the shooter was still actively firing – charged him from the side.

He charged the attacker unarmed, and wrestled with him for control of the rifle. The shooter fell to the ground, leaving Ahmed in control of the weapon. Again, reports say that during the struggle, Ahmed was shot several times in the shoulder, but I do not see that in the video. Rather, it appears that he was unharmed during the struggle, which leads me to believe that he was then shot by the other attacker, who was still firing from atop a bridge nearby. But this is speculation.

In any case he was shot in the hand and four to five times in the shoulder, with some of the bullets still lodged inside his body, according to his parents. He was rushed to hospital and underwent emergency surgery.

In the hours that followed, family members described the toll the injuries had taken. Jozay, a cousin of Ahmed, said that he was recovering from his first surgery and had two more operations still to come. “He took a lot of medication, he can’t speak well,” Jozay said after leaving the hospital on Monday evening.

Couldn’t Bear To See People Dying

Another cousin, Mustafa al-Asaad, told the Al Araby television network that Ahmed’s intervention was not driven by anger or impulse, but by something deeper.

“When he saw people dying and their families being shot, he couldn’t bear to see people dying,” Mustafa said.

“It was a humanitarian act, more than anything else. It was a matter of conscience. He’s very proud that he saved even one life.”

Mustafa recalled Ahmed explaining the moment in simple terms.

“When he saw this scene, people dying of gunfire, he told me, ‘I couldn’t bear this. God gave me strength. I believe I’m going to stop this person killing people.’”

The attack ended. Many lives were lost, but – without a doubt – many lives were also saved by Ahmed’s heroic actions.

What Would You Do?

It’s easy to call someone a hero after the fact. It is much harder to grasp what such a moment actually demands. Which raises a question that should unsettle us.

What would you do in that situation? What would I do?

I am a trained martial artist. I have spent years in classes gaming out scenarios exactly like this. How to tackle an active shooter, how to control the weapon, how to disable the shooter and create distance. But class training is one thing. Seeing it happen in real life, with the noise of the shots, the screams, the chaos, is something else altogether. I like to believe I would act courageously. I like to believe training and moral conviction would carry me forward. But only Allah knows.

Because this is the reality: if the shooter had spotted Ahmed’s approach – if he’d caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye – and turned – Ahmed would be dead. He’d be shot dead in the parking lot, leaving his two young daughters without a father. And he undoubtedly knew that. Think about that.

None of us truly knows what choice we will make until we are confronted, face to face, with that level of evil. Training, faith and strength of character all help. But certainty only arrives when fear, instinct, and conscience collide in real time.

Ahmed al-Ahmed does not have to imagine.

When asked about his actions, he expressed no regret. He did not speak of bravery or heroism. I cannot speak to his specific religious convictions, as the reports do not mention this. He might be a Sunni, Shiah or Alawi. He might be practicing or not. But he bears the name of our beloved Prophet (s), and he gave the credit for his actions – as any believer would – to Allah, saying that God granted him courage.

Ahmed’s father emphasized that his son’s decision was not shaped by identity or affiliation.

“When he did what he did, he wasn’t thinking about the background of the people he’s saving, the people dying in the street,” Mohamed Fateh al-Ahmed said. “He doesn’t discriminate between one nationality and another. Especially here in Australia, there’s no difference between one citizen and another.”

A Grim Irony

There is, however, a grim irony that cannot be ignored.

Authorities later confirmed that the attackers were also Muslim immigrants. This fact, widely reported, inevitably stirred anxiety within Muslim communities already accustomed to collective suspicion.

The man that Ahmed wrested with and disarmed was named Sajid Akram. He was 50 years old, originally from India. According to reports, he and his son were inspired by ISIS ideology.

Here, on the same beach, in the same violent moment, stood two radically different representations of what it means to invoke Islam.

On one side, a profound betrayal of faith. A reduction of religion to grievance, rage, and indiscriminate murder. On the other, the apex of faithful action, a man who ran toward gunfire to protect strangers, including members of another religious community, without hesitation and without calculation.

Have we, in recent memory, seen a clearer reminder that no group is monolithic? That no religion, race, or nation can be reduced to its worst representatives? That Islam can be invoked as a pretext for horror, or lived as a shield for others?

Whoever Saves One Life

Chris Mims, New South Wales premier, visits with Ahmed Al-Ahmed.

In the days that followed, public gratitude poured in. Political leaders visited Ahmed in hospital. Fundraisers raised extraordinary sums (over a million dollars, it is said) to support his recovery and his family. Officials credited his intervention with saving lives.

For Muslims, the value of a life saved is not dependent on that person’s faith, character, nationality or identity, for Allah tells us in the Quran:

“Whoever saves one life, it is as if he has saved the lives of all humankind.” (Quran 5:32)

This is especially true when you save a stranger. By saving the life of someone you don’t know, you have symbolically saved the life of anyone and everyone. Ahmed Al-Ahmed, therefore, saved my life and yours, as well as that of everyone else in the world.

Let’s Choose Our Own Heroes

This is an age when Western entertainment culture is relentless in shaping our imagination of heroism, trying to force its own imprint onto our brains. The hero is a mythical Norse god wielding lightning, a billionaire playboy in an iron suit, a Superman wrapped in red, white, and blue. These figures are entertaining, but they are not moral templates.

We already have heroes.

At the dawn of Islam, we have the sahabah. Hamzah ibn AbdulMuttalib at Badr. Nusaibah bint Kaab, Musab bin Umair and Talhah bin Ubaidullah at Uhud. Salman al-Farisi, Ali ibn Abi Talib, and Hudhaifah ibn al-Yaman at Khandaq. And any others. Men and women whose courage was inseparable from humility, restraint, and devotion to Allah and His Messenger.

In the modern age, we must choose our heroes as well. Not from movie screens or marketing campaigns, but from real human beings who act rightly when it costs them dearly.

Ahmed al-Ahmed is one such hero. No, I’m not comparing him to the sahabah. But we do not live in the time of the sahabah. We live in an age of runaway technology, overhwelming mass media, and widespread oppression and corruption. We must laud our heroes when they appear.

Ahmed is not a hero because he is flawless. Again, I know little about his personal relgious convictions. He is a hero because, in one decisive moment, he chose other poeople’s lives over his own safety, conscience over calculation, and mercy over self-preservation.

Sources

• • ABC News (Australia)
    Interviews with Ahmed al-Ahmed’s father Mohamed Fateh al-Ahmed regarding the events at Bondi Beach, Ahmed’s injuries, and his motivations.

  • News.com.au
    Reporting on Ahmed al-Ahmed’s background, injuries, surgeries, and public response following the Bondi Beach attack.

  • NSW Police Force Media Releases
    Official statements on the Bondi Beach public place shooting, timeline of events, and police intervention.

  • The Guardian (Australia)
    Coverage of the Bondi Beach attack, investigation details, and confirmation of the attackers’ identities.

  • SBS News (Australia)
    Reporting on Ahmed al-Ahmed’s medical condition, recovery, and statements attributed to family members.

  • Al Araby Television Network
    Interview with Ahmed’s cousin Mustafa al-Asaad describing Ahmed’s actions as a humanitarian act and a matter of conscience.

Related:

A War Hero Comes For Taraweeh – The Remarkable Story Of Hajjah Hasna al-Hariri

Do You Know These Heroes of Eid?

The post Ahmed Al-Ahmed And The Meaning Of Courage appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

Non-student provocateurs are showing up unannounced to campus events, filming students while they pray, mocking their faith, and disrupting peaceful gatherings. In some cases, these incidents have escalated into violence and desecration of a copy of the Qur’an.

CAIR has received reports of individuals deliberately tracking MSA events online and appearing in person to provoke fear.

This is not spontaneous; it’s organized. Their tactics – cameras, confrontation, heckling – are designed to pressure Muslim students into retreating from campus life.

These agitators’ goal is to provoke and intimidate young Muslims and make them feel vulnerable in their own academic spaces.

But here’s the reality: Muslim students are not helpless; they are not alone; and they will not be intimidated.

Resilience is in our DNA.

American Muslims have endured hostility before in the form of social and political pressure, discrimination, and exclusion. History shows a consistent trend that efforts to silence us only strengthen our resolve.

As Muslim students stand up for their safety and rights with the support of MSA National and national organizations, including CAIR, universities also have an important responsibility to protect them from harassment, safeguard religious freedom, and ensure that campuses remain spaces for learning, not intimidation.

This moment requires action. That’s why CAIR issued a letter recently to over 2,000 colleges and universities across America to take concrete steps to protect Muslim students.

In addition to action, Muslims rely on our faith in these times. It teaches patience under pressure, dignity in the face of mockery, and perseverance when others attempt to undermine our confidence.

Throughout Islamic history, many Muslim leaders and scholars have faced ridicule and harassment, yet remained steadfast and principled. No example is more evident of this than the example of our beloved Prophet Muhammad ﷺ.

The trials we face today cannot compare to the hardships he ﷺ endured. In the darkest moments, he ﷺ was strengthened through divine guidance and unwavering purpose.

And Palestinians have reminded the world during every day of Israel’s genocide, that this spirit of resilience lives on in today’s generation of Muslims.

The fact is that these coordinated disruptions aren’t targeting weakness – they’re targeting strength. Detractors fear a generation of American Muslims who are confident in their identity, visible in public spaces, and active in civic life.

Muslim candidates successfully sweeping races to serve in public office have predictably unleashed a new tide of Islamophobia, and the coordinated campaign of harassment on campuses is one symptom of this wave of hate bias.

To Muslim students, these agitators fear your conviction. Your power. Your unity. They fear the past that doesn’t define your ambitions, and the future leadership you promise.

That fear says more about them than it ever will about you.

Your choices are not theirs to make.

Your education is not theirs to exploit.

And your faith is not a liability for them to pry away from you.

You have every right to gather, organize, pray, and lead. Ignorance, hate, and bigotry will not win.

Your presence – both on campus, and here in America – is not an intrusion. It is a gift, a promise, and a contribution to a brighter future for our country.

Our hardships don’t define us; how we rise through them is what shapes the core of our identity.

Don’t cancel your activities. Take precautions, be vigilant, but stay active and keep organizing.

Support and uplift one another. Build and strengthen alliances with other student groups and interfaith organizations.

Document and report incidents, notify your campus administrators, and contact your local CAIR office.

CAIR will continue to hold institutions accountable to adopt clear anti-harassment policies that address religious intimidation, provide security, enforce consequences for disruptions, and publicly affirm your rights.

This is also a call to action for the broader Muslim community:

We cannot stay on the sidelines while students face these battles. Let’s attend and support MSA activities and programs. Let’s publicly condemn harassment and amplify student voices. Let’s invest in on-campus Muslim chaplaincy programs and student leadership initiatives to mentor, fund, and empower our future generations

Let these coordinated attacks have the opposite effect of what was intended. Let them ignite a movement of confident, connected, courageous young Muslims across our country.

Muslims know that, with Allah by our side, we never stand alone. Let’s assure students that their community stands with them too.

Related:

– [Podcast] How to Fight Islamophobia | Monia Mazigh

– Islamophobia In American Public Schools

The post Op-Ed – When Islamophobes Try To Intimidate Us, They Underestimate Our Resolve: A Call to Stand With America’s Muslim Students appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

As someone who has spent more than two decades researching, writing, and advocating for the visibility of Latino Muslims, I have witnessed both the challenges and the power of reclaiming our narratives. The struggle to be recognized as authorities in telling our own stories is ongoing, particularly in spaces that remain patriarchal and dominated by outsiders. Yet it is precisely because of this marginalization that it becomes all the more urgent to affirm the voices and contributions of Latino Muslims in the United States and beyond.

My exploration of Latino Muslim identity began during my undergraduate years at the University of Maryland, where I majored in modern languages and linguistics, specializing in Spanish and education. Having embraced Islam only five years earlier, I was still learning to navigate the intersection of cultural heritage and faith. Through coursework, I became fascinated by how Islam had shaped Spanish and Portuguese culture, and, by extension, the Americas. Linguistic, culinary, and traditional threads revealed connections between my ancestry and my faith, highlighting how deeply entwined Islam has long been with Latino identity. These discoveries reinforced the importance of telling stories that illuminate our history, assert our belonging, and resist erasure.

“Our goal was simple: to make knowledge about Islam accessible to our families and to other Spanish-speaking families. At that time, resources about Islam in Spanish or within a Latino context were scarce.” (PC: Stepping Stone Charity)

This academic curiosity soon evolved into a personal mission as I began volunteering at my local mosque to assist Spanish-speaking visitors and newcomers to the faith. After marrying my husband, another Latino convert whose family hails from Ecuador, we founded the PrimeXample Company in 2005, and it later evolved into Hablamos Islam. Our goal was simple: to make knowledge about Islam accessible to our families and to other Spanish-speaking families. At that time, resources about Islam in Spanish or within a Latino context were scarce. We began translating articles, fatwas, and educational materials, building a website, and offering our services as interpreters and translators at local mosques and community events. Our work was born out of the necessity for resources to explain our decision to embrace Islam in a way that resonated with our families’ cultural backgrounds and values. However, as we expanded, we discovered a broader community of Latino Muslims who shared our experiences and aspirations. Our work transformed from serving our own families to supporting a growing network of Spanish-speaking Muslims nationwide and even beyond US borders.

The Raíces Run Deep

When we moved to New Jersey, my husband and I became active in the North Hudson Islamic Education Center (NHIEC), where we helped their outreach committee and organized events for the predominantly Latino community in Union City. In a city where over 80% of the population is Latino, Spanish was the language of daily life. Take, for example, my husband’s grandmother; she migrated from Ecuador to New Jersey in the mid-to-late 1970s and did not speak a word of English despite living in Union City for decades. His parents learned broken English, but Spanish remains their dominant language.  Even in the mosque, the Friday sermon was simultaneously translated to Spanish on headsets for those who could not understand the usual Arabic. The outreach committee planned open houses and street parties, held regular classes for new converts, translated materials, and created spaces where Latino Muslims could connect, learn, and share their stories. However, the gathering they are most widely known for is the annual Hispanic Muslim Day, held every Fall, typically around Hispanic Heritage Month. A young Puerto Rican convert, Daniel Hernández (now Imam Daniel Hernández), conceived the idea for this celebration with the former Imam of NHIEC, Mohammad Alhayek. This year (2025) was the event’s 23rd anniversary.

Through our outreach work, we learned that Latino Muslims had been building communities long before us. From the inner-city Bani Saqr movement in Newark, New Jersey, and the Spanish-speaking mosque in New York, Alianza Islamica, to the Latino American Dawa Association (LADO), we connected with individuals and organizations dedicated to supporting Latino Muslims. In the days before social media, we networked through Yahoo groups, AOL chats, and email threads, forging bonds that transcended geography. We often reminisce about how we were connected even before social media. There is an untold history that is deeply personal, rooted in the desire to reconcile our heritage with our faith and to make sense of our identities in a society that failed so many times to recognize our existence beyond our conversion stories.

Despite our longstanding presence and contributions, Latino Muslims have often been sidelined in mainstream narratives. Too frequently, nuestras historias – our history and our stories – are told by outsiders like non-Muslim academics, journalists, or other opportunists, who lack the lived experience to truly understand our journeys. I have witnessed, time and again, how the phenomenon of Latino Muslim conversion is reduced to a headline, a curiosity, or a trend, rather than a testament to the resilience and diversity of our communities. The latest tendency seems to be checking off Latino Muslim characters on a diversity list to fulfill equity requirements without offering an authentic voice. I have personally received messages from people outside our community, who have never even met a Latino Muslim, yet want to add such a character to their books or illustrations simply because it is now considered “the thing to do.” Often, this is at the suggestion of an editor or professor eager to feature this so-called “new, up-and-coming” group, even though we are not new at all but have been an integral part of the dawah in the United States since the earliest documented conversions.

What’s Old is New Again?

This observation led me to dedicate my master’s thesis to researching Gen X and early millennial (Xennial) Latino Muslim converts and their contributions to American Muslim communities as I pursued graduate studies at Chicago Theological Seminary. I wanted to shift the focus from conversion to continuity, to examine what happens after the shahada, when the initial excitement passes and a lifetime of living Islam begins. As part of my research, I conducted in-depth interviews with Latino Muslims who have practiced Islam for twenty to thirty years. These individuals have raised families in the faith, established organizations, translated Islamic knowledge into Spanish, and built the institutions that others are now benefiting from. Their stories prove what the literature has missed for decades: that Latino Muslims are not the “new kids on the block” or the latest slot on the diversity checkbox.

“The work of Latino Muslims is not motivated by a desire for recognition, and so many of us are content to stay under the radar. But there is power in preserving history in our own words.” [PC: Social Cut (unsplash)]

As someone who has spent years writing, translating, and advocating for my community, I find the trend of thoughtless reporting on Latino Muslims deeply insulting.

Our stories are not commodities to be packaged and sold for profit. They are the lifeblood of our communities, shaped by struggle, sacrifice, and unwavering faith. To see them reduced to superficial summaries or exploited for fame is a painful reminder of the ongoing battle for narrative ownership.

Additionally, Latino Muslims are not a monolith; our journeys to Islam are as diverse as our backgrounds. Even terms like Hispanic and Latino do not fully encompass our diversity. Some of us are converts, others were born into the faith, and many have family histories that span continents and generations. We are from several Caribbean islands and from every nation in North, Central, and South America. We are professionals, educators, community organizers, and scholars. Our contributions to our families, communities, and the broader Muslim ummah are vast and varied.

Historically, Latin America has embraced immigrants from every Muslim-majority country, including our brothers and sisters from Palestine, who could not find refuge in the US. They have been able to settle there, establish successful businesses, and reach some of the highest political positions. Yet, despite our shared history, our stories are overlooked, misunderstood, and/or misrepresented. The mainstream narrative tends to focus on the novelty of Latino Muslim conversion, ignoring the rich histories and ongoing work of those who have been Muslim for decades, or even generations. It fails to recognize how we have navigated cultural, linguistic, and religious boundaries to build vibrant, resilient communities.

Uplifting Latino Muslim Voices

The work of Latino Muslims is not motivated by a desire for recognition, and so many of us are content to stay under the radar. But there is power in preserving history in our own words. If we do not take ownership of nuestra historia, others will do it for us. The time has come for Latino Muslims to reclaim our heritage and assert our rightful place in the tapestry of American Islam. To do so means writing, speaking, and sharing our truth so that future generations, searching for guidance, inspiration, and reassurance, can benefit from it. We must also hold accountable those who seek to appropriate or misrepresent our experiences. Outsiders can research, conduct studies, perform surveys, and even sit at our tables, but they will never fully understand what it is like to live in our shoes, to walk our path, and to experience Islam as we do. It is even more frustrating when someone creates an AI-generated text, slaps a Latino title on it, and claims to have researched Latino Muslims. That is just pure laziness and a disrespect to all of us.

I have been raising my voice since at least 2005. And as time passes and I grow older, perhaps becoming less patient, my voice will become louder and more direct, because it is imperative to recognize those who have been working tirelessly to bring visibility to the Latino Muslim community in the US. I do not claim this work as mine. Many others deserve recognition, including Benjamin Perez, Khadija Rivera, Ibrahim González (may Allah have mercy on them), Juan Galvan, the creators of Banu Saqr, and the founders of Alianza Islámica. Dr. Juan Suquillo, Sheikh Isa Garcia, the Dawah committee at the North Hudson Islamic Education Center, the people at Islam in Spanish, and my contemporaries at the Ojala Foundation, LADO, LALMA, Latina Muslim Foundation, ILMM, and so many more have all contributed to our community’s growth and visibility. We must also remember the countless Latino Muslims who converted in the 1920s and 30s, and those who came before them.

We have to be respectful and mindful of our history. Just because we live in the age of social media and AI does not mean we are the first to do this or that, nor does it make us experts on others’ lived experiences. Our stories are not marketing tools or diversity props. They are sacred narratives shaped by struggle, faith, and resilience, and they deserve to be handled with integrity. As Latino Muslims, we will continue to speak for ourselves and preserve our own history, but we cannot do this work alone. I call on the wider Muslim community to uplift authentic voices, to seek out and cite the work of those who live these realities, and to support initiatives that support and empower our Latino brothers and sisters. Most of all, we must ensure our stories are told accurately and respectfully.

Related:

– The Fast and the ¡Fiesta!: How Latino Muslims Celebrate Ramadan

– 25 Things Latino Muslims Want You To Know

The post Owning Our Stories: The Importance Of Latino Muslim Narratives appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

Arriving, Gathering, and the First Sparks of Debate

Like the rest of the nation, many Muslims celebrate Thanksgiving. Walk into any Muslim home on Thursday and you will see a familiar scene. A salaam and a hug at the door. Shoes off without even thinking about it. Kids racing between cousins they have not seen since Eid. A loud chorus of “Bismillah” before anyone touches the turkey. And even though everyone says they will avoid politics at the table, anyone who has ever attended a Muslim Thanksgiving knows that this promise will not survive the first twenty minutes.

The first debate will start right away. Someone will ask whether Thanksgiving is a harmless non secular family tradition or a broken promise wrapped in myth. Others will say it is a reminder of colonialism and the violence that built this country. Someone will draw a straight line from that history to modern examples of European and Western colonial projects, with Israel cited as a living case study of land theft and domination.

At the same table others will note that the American Muslim community is incredibly diverse. Many Muslims are reverts. Many come from mixed families. This author has celebrated Thanksgiving in years past with Christian and Jewish relatives. Sometimes Thanksgiving simply means bringing the Muslim branch of the family tree to a relative’s home where someone was kind enough to buy a halal or kosher turkey. And yes, Muslims can eat kosher too.

Victories, Representation, and Shifting Political Winds

After that opening round, everyone will pivot to the cheerful political news. Someone will ask, “Did you hear about Mamdani winning and that meeting at the White House with Trump?” Another uncle will jump in with a full plate, “Speaking of which, did you hear about the local Muslim who just won their race?” Then the whole table will start comparing stories about the more than forty Muslims elected across the country in 2025, backed by exit polls showing Muslim voters turning out in force.

The tone will eventually shift. Adults will talk about the rising hateful rhetoric coming out of Congress and from governors in places like Texas and Florida. Everyone knows why this is happening. As Israel’s genocide of innocent Palestinians drives global outrage and as public opinion shifts, the distraction playbook is obvious. The same people cheering the killing of Muslims are now pretending Muslims are the threat. Around the table the shared response will be steady. We will persist.

Family Drama, Familiar Lines

Then it will be time for family politics. Someone will whisper, “So is he or she finally getting married” and the cousin in question will immediately escape to the basement to play video games with the younger cousins until dessert appears. An auntie will insist it is time for someone to settle down. Someone else will insist they are too busy focusing on school or career. Everyone knows their lines.

Midterms, Mobilization, and What Comes Next

By the end of the night the conversation will shift to the midterms. The table will become an unofficial strategy session. Who is vulnerable. Which districts could flip. Where Muslim voters can make a difference. How Gaza will shape the national political climate. And who is actually going to volunteer for phone banking once the primaries begin.

This is Muslim Thanksgiving in 2025. Faith. Food. Family. Arguments about history. Arguments about the future. And political conversations everyone pretends they are not having but absolutely will. After the final Alhamdulillah and the last slice of pie, families will leave with one reminder. Even in a year filled with grief and injustice, our communities are still showing up, still building strength, and still refusing to be silent.

That is the real tradition.

Related:

Recognizing The Indigenous Crisis This Thanksgiving

Muslims, the Turkey, & the Thanksgiving Day Question

The post Op-Ed: What Muslims Will Really Be Talking About Over the Halal Turkey This Thanksgiving appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

When I hear Muslim candidates make promises like “freeze rent,” “build affordable housing,” “free public transit,” “raise the minimum wage,” or “expand childcare,” I understand the intention. These are calls for relief and mercy. At the same time, I also understand why many people hesitate to support such measures.

From conversations with Muslims who fall into this line of thinking, I have heard people express fear of ballooning government budgets, taxpayer strain, and an ever-expanding state that replaces family and community with bureaucracy. Yet, I think the real tragedy is that neither side of this political divide (liberal or conservative) is grappling with the entirety of the situation fairly. On one hand, some speak of compassion without accountability, and on the other, they demand responsibility without mercy. The result is a nation swinging between extremes of a heartless pursuit of efficiency and a naive promise of endless aid.

Between Mercy and Responsibility

As Muslims who are to set a precedent and example for the societies we find ourselves in, one thing is absolutely clear. No matter what the political pressures are, and perhaps even our desire to remain pragmatic, we cannot be indifferent to suffering. When federal programs like food stamps (SNAP) risk disruption, threatening millions of vulnerable and innocent seniors, children, and families with hunger, we have a duty to care.

Moreover, we cannot just demand action from others; we ourselves must also be willing to act. The Qur’an praises those “who give food, in spite of love for it, to the needy, the orphan, and the captive,” [Surah Al-Insan; 76:8] saying:

“We feed you only for the countenance of Allah; we wish not from you reward or gratitude.’” [Surah Al-Insan; 76:9]

Americans in line for food aid.

Demonstrating (and I use this verb on purpose) mercy is not just about good politics, like many Americans have come to see it; it’s about recognizing real pain and responding to it instead of waiting for some perfect economic system. If a family can rest easier because they can afford groceries this month through expanded credits, that relief is a mercy worth supporting.

The Prophet said, “He is not a believer whose stomach is filled while his neighbor goes hungry.”^[2]

All this being said, I know that mercy also demands honesty. Many of these short-term political promises and vehemently argued solutions are indeed bandages on deeper wounds. The question that Muslims must provide moral leadership on, however, is not only how to help families survive today but to make demands and attempts to answer why they are drowning in the first place. Should it take two incomes just to afford rent? Why has inflation turned basic food into a luxury? As the national debt swells, why are billions of dollars flowing abroad in aid packages that most citizens don’t understand? Why does our government keep printing money as if wealth can appear without real economic activity?

The Root of the Crisis: A System Built on Riba

At the root of all this is a moral distortion that the Qur’an names explicitly: Riba. Also defined as excessive interest or usury. The Qur’an declares,

“Those who consume riba will not stand [on the Day of Judgment] except as one stands who is being beaten by Satan into insanity.” It then warns, “If you do not desist, then be informed of war from Allah and His Messenger.”^[3] For those educated in economics, they might have a better understanding than the average person of how an economy built on debt becomes an economy at war with its own conscience, as we are seeing today. Riba turns money into a self-replicating creature that feeds on itself rather than serving human needs.

In the Islamic worldview, wealth is not evil, but it is also never absolute. The Qur’an commands that economic systems be designed “so that wealth does not merely circulate among the rich of you.”^[4] That single phrase dismantles both capitalist hoarding and socialist dependency. It implies movement where resources flow instead of the normalization of wealth that pools upward, insulated by tax loopholes and corporate immunity, while ordinary families bear the weight of inflation and debt.

In light of the conversation around food stamps at risk, the Qur’an condemns “those who, when they take by measure from people, take in full, but when they give by measure or weight to them, they cause loss.”^[5] These verses expose a timeless hypocrisy whereby leaders ensure their own salaries, pensions, and benefits while freezing food assistance for families who depend on it to survive. They take their measure in full (their comforts, healthcare, privileges), yet when it comes time to measure out sustenance to the vulnerable, they shrink the scale.

Beyond Relief

This is where Muslims must elevate the conversation beyond just secular, unfair policymaking and call it for what it is, which is moral fraud. The Qur’an warns again:

“And O my people, give full measure and weight in justice and do not deprive the people of their due and do not commit abuse on the earth, spreading corruption.” [Surah Hud; 11:85]^[6] 

To defraud is not only to cheat in trade and business; it is also just as much about withholding what is due and betraying the trust of leadership. When those entrusted with public resources exploit power or abandon the poor under the guise of fiscal prudence, they commit fasad (corruption) in its truest sense.

In Islam, there is no entity nor individual that is beyond moral responsibility, unlike the American political and legal structures, which include mechanisms such as presidential immunity that can shield leaders from full accountability. That is why the khalifah Umar ibn Abd al-Aziz stands as one of history’s rare examples of moral political leadership when he curbed official excess, prohibited state officials from personal enrichment, and redirected wealth to those in need.^[7] Umar ibn al-Khattab’s establishment of the Bayt al-Mal (public treasury) embodied this same principle, where he ensured that every citizen received food and a stipend.^[8]

A Need for Preparation and Reform

Today, we need to revive that spirit. Muslims in America must prepare for both immediate and long-term responses. In the short term, we must fund and connect community food banks, revive mutual-aid efforts, and strengthen zakat institutions. During crises like potential SNAP disruptions, we cannot wait for Congress to act, because as individuals, we have a responsibility to use our own resources to act ourselves.

Muslims in Detroit pack boxes of food aid.

During the pandemic, many youth in our community created an initiative to check in on vulnerable neighbors, ensuring they had access to groceries, food, and basic necessities. We should be ready to revive that same spirit of compassion and initiative whenever the need arises again.

On top of bringing immediate relief, in the long term, our discourse must mature. Saying that we cannot be content with endless relief programs that merely manage misery is not the same as saying that these efforts should ever cease. Rather, our aim should be expanded to simultaneously reform the structures that produce it in the first place. From systems driven by Riba and speculation all the way to corporate impunity.

Supporting short-term relief does not make us naive, but ignoring long-term reform does make us complicit. I believe this is the dichotomy Muslim-Americans must break, and indeed, we need to introduce nuance to the public discourse in order to actually effect change in our milieu. If we can revive this balance of compassion that acts and honesty that reforms, we may yet model for America what a truly moral economy looks like.

From Critique to Action

In moments of crisis, moral response requires both organization and imagination. Here are ways Muslims can respond:

1. Partner with local faith and civic groups.
   

Churches, temples, and interfaith coalitions often host food banks or meal programs. We should actively collaborate to ensure Muslim families, who generally underuse public social services due to stigma or inaccessibility, are reached.

2. Work with local jurisdictions.
   

City and county governments have relief grants or emergency food distribution funds. Muslim organizations can apply for these or partner with agencies to reach underserved Muslim populations more directly. Part of proactively getting into local governments’ radar is ensuring good outreach and networking so that communities are able to actually offer their masjid as pop-up distribution hubs for wider city food relief programs.

3. Leverage technology platforms that can bring benefit!

I personally have been inspired by the acts of kindness that apps like NextDoor have facilitated in the last few years. Neighborhood apps connect those in a local community like never before and provide us the opportunity to offer our services to those who live near us and are in need. It’s an active facilitator to help us actualize the hadith about not going to sleep if we know that our neighbors are hungry.  

4. The Sunnah of Ukhuwwah.

The life of the Prophet demonstrates the reality of true brotherhood, sisterhood, and community. During times of prolonged crisis, the Muslim community has a tried and tested method for ensuring families are supported through the pairing up of the well off with the less well off. We have the tools and ability to pair families during a crisis, and many are willing to step up. Moreover, non-Muslim grocery stores always have a program where buyers can purchase a bag of groceries for a family in need, and this should be replicated for halal stores as well.

5. Leverage business owners.

I’ve been to many Muslim-owned restaurants that will pack up food at the end of the day to take to homeless shelters, and I am hopeful that this is a common practice among most restaurants, Muslim or otherwise. With some coordination, it shouldn’t be too difficult to prioritize halal meals for Muslim families and leave the non-halal foods for non Muslim families and homeless shelters.

Conclusion

Dallas masjid feeds the hungry during a “Day of Dignity.”

It is true that many of the proposals touted in modern politics, from endless subsidies, government expansion, and reliance on state relief, can create unhealthy dependence, weaken families, and bankrupt nations. History has proven that a purely socialist model collapses under the weight of its own promises. As Muslim-Americans, we cannot be naïve to that reality.

There is, however, an equal and opposite truth! The working class did not create the economic disaster we are living in; the powerful did. It was not working-class families who engineered a riba-driven financial system, inflated the currency, shipped jobs overseas, or allowed corporations to grow fat at the expense of people’s livelihoods and quality of life diminishing. It was not single mothers or grocery clerks who ballooned the national debt to trillions, speculated on Wall Street casinos, or carved tax loopholes wide enough to swallow entire communities.

To look at the hungry today, those people trapped in a crisis they did not create, and say that they don’t deserve government support in the meantime, is moral blindness. Muslims were not placed in this land to parrot slogans from either political wing. So, although we recognize that perpetual welfare is not a vision for human dignity, refusing to feed the hungry while elites gorge themselves is cruelty disguised as prudence.

When the powerful eat full and the poor go hungry, the response of a believer ought to be moral intervention at every level.

Related:

Faith In Action: Zakat, Sadaqah, And Islam’s Role In Embracing Humanitarianism In A Globalized World

On Social Justice and being “Prophetic”

The post When The Powerful Eat Full And The Poor Go Hungry appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

He also capped a remarkable string of successes that no human could have imagined when Bashar al-Assad was sitting pretty in Damascus a year ago.

A Long List of Accomplishments

In the nine months since Al-Sharaa’s rebel alliance shocked the world by toppling the Assad regime, his transition government has pulled off success after success amid mortal challenges.

He has maintained the loyalty of hardened fighters, some of whom were probably ready to string up former Assad officials and charge into the occupied Golan Heights.

He has struck interim deals with other rebel factions and, so far, avoided full-blown conflict with the Syrian Democratic Forces even as it stalls on integration.

He has signed an interim constitution that established a path to representative government, satisfied public expectations for governance rooted in Islam, and guaranteed religious freedom to Syria’s diverse population.

He has shown respect for various Islamic schools of thought and embraced Syria’s Christian, Druze, and Alawite citizens, consulting with their leaders and sending soldiers to protect their houses of worship.

He has built diplomatic ties with countries usually at odds with each other, like the UAE, Turkey, Saudi Arabia, and Qatar, avoiding the coup plots that doomed Egypt’s first democratically elected president, the late Dr. Mohamed Morsi.

He has defused multiple violent sectarian flare-ups instigated by separatist militias, Assad loyalists, and the Israeli government, all of whom seek to destabilize the government and ultimately partition the country.

He has condemned abuses by his own forces committed during those clashes and launched independent investigations into the violence.

He has secured multiple meetings with President Trump, who lifted executive branch sanctions on Syria without demanding that the country jump through years of hoops or make intolerable concessions, such as joining the so-called Abraham Accords.

The Muslim World’s Eyes On Syria

Now Al-Sharaa has made history at the United Nations. In his brief speech, he reintroduced Syria to the world, outlined his vision for the future, and concluded with support for the people of Gaza.

As the world now watches Syria’s progress with cautious optimism, Syrians are not the only ones rooting for his success.

So are many Muslims across the globe who have endured years of political heartbreak: Israel’s genocide in Gaza and ethnic cleansing of the West Bank, the rise of Hindutva extremism in India, the genocidal persecution of Uyghurs in China and Rohingya in Myanmar, civil wars in Libya, Yemen and Sudan, and renewed autocracy in Egypt and Tunisia.

The apparent victory of the Assad regime over Syrian revolutionaries was perhaps the most bitter pill for the Muslim world to swallow, and his sudden downfall was widely seen as a miracle.

If Al-Sharaa’s government now succeeds in reuniting, stabilizing, and reconstructing Syria, that, too, would be a miracle—one that could make the 42-year-old an inspiring political leader in the Arab and Muslim world for decades to come.

Al-Sharaa’s Syria vs. Israel

Perhaps that explains why the Israeli government has spent months trying to undermine Al-Sharaa by smearing him to Western audiences, destroying Syria’s military assets, lobbying the U.S. to maintain its sanctions, enabling separatist militias to rebel, and even threatening to assassinate Al-Sharaa himself.

Israel opposes Syria’s new government for the same reason it opposed the Arab Spring: it wants Syria and the wider Arab Muslim world internally divided, militarily weak, and politically impotent—ruled by dictators who keep a lid on the tens of millions of people who want their governments to reflect their values and stand up for the Palestinian people.

Benjamin Netanyahu recently justified bombing Syria by saying, “I understand who we are dealing with.” Indeed, Netanyahu sees in Al-Sharaa what many Muslims see: a devout, pragmatic warrior-turned-politician who managed to subdue extremist groups like Al-Qaeda and ISIS, spearhead the overthrow of an entrenched dictator backed by a superpower, and restore Syria to its rightful place in the world, all in a few years.

To be clear, Al-Sharaa does have critics in the Muslim world, who usually accuse him of being a tool of the West or argue he has not done enough to help Gaza or respond to Israel’s attacks on Syria. Yet no one should be surprised by Al-Sharaa’s hostility to Iran and Hezbollah, given the sectarian violence they unleashed against the Syrian people to prop up the Assad regime, and no one should have expected his forces to somehow stop the Gaza genocide or jump into a war with Israel, given their limited military strength, unprotected airspace, and tenuous control of Syria.

What Al-Sharaa has done instead is repeatedly condemn Israel’s attacks on Gaza and refuse to join the Abraham Accords despite the Caesar sanctions that Israel First members of Congress still dangle over his government.

Although Al-Sharaa’s tenure has hardly been perfect and the future of Syria’s transition remains unclear, the Syrian people and Muslims around the world have reason to hope that he will continue to make history and maybe, just maybe, inspire other Arab Muslim nations to do the same.

Related:

– Fort Down In A Fortnight: Syrian Insurgents Oust Assad Regime

The post Is Syria’s New President The Type Of Political Leader Muslims Have Been Waiting For? appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

Fast forward to today: Israel’s relentless bombardment of Gaza has killed more than 65,000* people—mostly women and children—according to humanitarian sources. A recent UN commission has even accused Israel of committing genocide. Yet, the Arab response has been largely symbolic. Statements of condemnation, calls for restraint, and summits filled with rhetoric have replaced meaningful action. The contrast with 1973 could not be starker.

Since that pivotal year, the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) countries—Saudi Arabia, UAE, Qatar, Kuwait, Bahrain, and Oman—have spent close to half a trillion dollars on Western weapons. According to estimates from the SIPRI Arms Transfers Database:

• Saudi Arabia: $150–200+ billion
• UAE: $50–80+ billion
• Qatar: $30–50+ billion
• Kuwait: $20–30+ billion
• Bahrain & Oman: $10–20+ billion (combined)

Yet, despite this massive investment, not a single GCC country has fired a weapon at Israel since 1973. The only direct military involvement by a Gulf state was a small Saudi contingent in the 1948 Arab-Israeli War—before the GCC even existed.

Meanwhile, Israel has not hesitated to strike targets in GCC countries. In September 2025, Israeli warplanes bombed a location in Doha, Qatar, targeting Hamas leaders and killing several Qatari citizens. This brazen act exposed the vulnerability of even the most well-armed Arab states and the hollowness of their strategic alliances.

So why do GCC countries continue to spend billions on weapons they never use against the region’s most aggressive actor? The answer lies in the geopolitical narrative shaped by Western powers. The USA and its allies have long portrayed Iran, Iraq, and other Shi’a-majority nations as the primary threats to Gulf stability. Western arms sales are marketed not just as tools of defense but as symbols of prestige and political alignment. 

Citizens are rarely told that these contracts often include restrictions on how and where the weapons can be used—especially against Israel. Using Western-supplied arms against Israel would likely trigger sanctions, loss of military support, and diplomatic fallout. GCC leaders are reminded of Iran’s fate since the fall of the Shah in 1979—a cautionary tale of defiance punished by isolation.

Even more troubling is the lack of protection these alliances offer. The United States, which maintains military bases across the Gulf, did not warn Qatari leaders about the impending Israeli strike in Doha. The so-called safety net proved worthless. The U.S. response was muted, and no action was taken against Israel. The message was clear: when Israel attacks, even America’s closest Arab allies are left exposed.

President Joe Biden has openly called Israel a “God-send” for the United States. He once remarked that if Israel didn’t exist, America would have to invent it. President Donald Trump is even more unabashed in his support for Israel. His daughter Ivanka converted to Judaism, and his son-in-law Jared Kushner—a deeply connected Orthodox Jewish real estate mogul—played a central role in shaping Trump’s Middle East policy. Trump’s designation of Qatar as a Major Non-NATO Ally in 2022 did little to shield it from Israeli aggression. Qatari officials were informed of the airstrike only ten minutes after it occurred.

So what good are trillions of dollars in weapons if GCC countries won’t defend their own sovereignty, let alone protect Palestinians from Israeli aggression? Qatar didn’t retaliate. Instead, it convened a summit in Doha to discuss the attack.

The result? A familiar spectacle of unity and impotence.

Leaders from the Arab League and the Organization of Islamic Cooperation (OIC), joined by representatives from Indonesia to Senegal, gathered in Doha to express solidarity. The summit concluded with a strongly worded communique condemning Israel and reaffirming support for Qatar. But beyond the rhetoric, there were no sanctions, no diplomatic breaks, no economic pressure—just words.

It was a stark reminder that 0 + 0 + 0 + … + 0 still equals 0.

At the summit, Gulf leaders called on the United States to rein in Israel. Jasem Mohamed al-Budaiwi, Secretary General of the GCC, urged Washington to use its “leverage and influence” to stop Israeli aggression. But such appeals are increasingly disconnected from reality. Trump’s recent comment—“it’s up to Israel what it does in Gaza”—underscored the futility of expecting restraint from Washington.

Hours after the summit ended, Israeli forces launched a new ground offensive in Gaza City, undeterred by regional condemnation.

When will Arab leaders learn that they cannot rely on a fox to guard a henhouse? Appeasing and paying protection money to those who enable mass murder is not diplomacy—it’s complicity.

The Doha summit laid bare the limits of Arab diplomacy. Despite their oil wealth, modern infrastructure, and global investments, Gulf states have failed to convert economic power into political leverage. This impotence is not just a failure of strategy—it reflects a deeper structural weakness. Without the will or ability to challenge U.S. policy or impose costs on Israel, Arab states are left issuing statements that carry little weight.

As the humanitarian crisis in Gaza deepens and international outrage grows, the Arab world faces a moment of reckoning. Will it continue to rely on symbolic gestures and appeals to Western powers? Or will it rediscover the assertiveness it once wielded in 1973?

For now, the answer seems clear. The communique from Doha may have expressed solidarity, but it did nothing to stop the bombs from falling.

[* This number is a masked figure and reflects an estimated one-tenth of the actual scale, from research noting that “the actual death toll was likely much higher given the exclusion of non-trauma deaths resulting from the destruction of health care facilities, food insecurity, and lack of water and sanitation.”]

Related:

– 150 Muslim Leaders And Institutions Now Say Arab Muslim Nations Should Cancel Abraham Accords, Suspend Oil Sales, Close Airspace To Israel, And Send Diplomatic Aid Mission To Gaza

– What A Rubio: United States Throws Weight Behind Israel After Aggression On Qatar

The post 0+0+0 = 0 : The Empty Promise Of Arab Solidarity In Doha appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

This has not been as easy as it might seem, largely because the world is built on a diet of measuring ‘success’ – thus a successful child is one who attains high marks, receives accolades, has multiple degrees, until they are then successful in a high-paying profession. We’ve tried to make little adjustments to try and redress this; for instance, we might celebrate an end to their exams, as opposed to celebrating at the point of their results being released. To even purchase them gifts based on their effort, not based on their results.

Ultimately, we have been trying to encourage our children to experience the world as one that is connected to ihsan and taqwa – to not measure themselves by what the world informs them of what makes a human valuable.

Over the last two years, I’ve had the examples of others informing me of what a life filled with dignity looks like. The son of a friend took part in the Cambridge University encampment to protest the ongoing genocide in Palestine. The son was calling me seeking advice about what the encampment should and should not be doing. After a while, I called my friend to ask him about his son’s degree being at risk, and how he was engaging this action. My friend explained that he initially balked at the idea that his son might not be able to complete his education, but then reminded himself that a fulfilled life cannot be reduced to a degree from Cambridge, but has to be in the stances we take at times when courage is needed – no time more pressing than the midst of a genocide. I was impressed by my friend’s position – it seemed validating to know that other parents were willing to support their children take stances that might materially impact their futures.

More recently, I came to support the protests taking place at the SOAS Liberated Zone, where students have been attempting to force SOAS to divest from Israel academically and financially. In the process of making their demands, there has been a process of repressing pro-Palestinian voices among the student body by the SOAS student union and the administration of the Vice Chancellor, Adam Habib, known for calling the police on his own students during his previous role as the chancellor of a university in South Africa.

Among those who took part in the protests at SOAS is Haya Adam, a second-year Law and International Relations student who was suspended pending an investigation by the university. Although excluded from university premises, Haya continued to protest against the university and her personal treatment, highlighting the layers of complicity. Always at these protests, you will meet the wheelchair-bound Aunty Azza, the mother of Haya, staunchly standing by her daughter’s stance, regardless of the outcome. When you look at Aunty Azza, you don’t see a fear of her daughter’s future; you see a complete certainty in Allah’s Promise that a life lived in dignity and in defence of the oppressed, is far more valuable than anything else. Haya herself maintained that while she would always fight her suspension, she would never apologise for her advocacy of the Palestinian people.

A few weeks ago, I was invited to speak at a protest in support of Haya. As I listened to the other speeches and heard from Haya herself, I realised that there was very little I could actually do for her, other than express my solidarity. The protest was taking place just outside of the gates of SOAS, and I looked at the buildings that I would once frequent for my own Master’s in Law, having graduated twenty-one years ago. Seeing Haya, a small but very powerful young Muslim woman, I wanted to express my heartfelt solidarity, and so, when I took to the platform, I expressed that I would burn my SOAS Master’s certificate should she be expelled from the university – as an act of solidarity for her. My words were met with a great deal of applause, with Aunty Azza specifically taking me aside to thank me for my proposed gesture.

Two weeks later, I heard the news that Haya was indeed expelled after a sham investigation process. I thought back to my own public commitment to her that I would burn my certificate– and so I did, recording it to highlight my anger at the SOAS administration. This didn’t seem enough, though. It didn’t seem much of a sacrifice to just burn a piece of paper that I could easily re-order if I needed one again. I felt that there was no real sacrifice at the end of such a symbolic act. The following morning, I wrote to the SOAS administration to inquire into the process of having my degree unrolled from the university, as there is no formal process in doing so.

Since then, while the vast majority of people have expressed their support for my actions, there have also been some who questioned the efficacy of such an act. For them, burning or rescinding an accolade that I worked hard to attain (and I really did nerd out during my Master’s) was an unfathomable act. Why waste the time, effort, and money?

The first real answer is: because I told Haya I would do so. I hope that as long as I am alive, Allah will make me a man of my word, and because I had promised this, I decided that I would actually follow through. But, in the process of going further and seeking to rescind the degree, I came upon a different motivation for myself; one that desired to divest from these institutions and the stranglehold they have over what we consider to be a dignified and honoured life. That the Master’s degree means nothing to me in the midst of a genocide – that there is nothing that the accolade was able to give me that I could not have learnt from a book.

People spoke of it in terms of sacrifice, but to me, this small act of solidarity with our young sister was minimal at best. I did not go out and encourage others to do the same, and of course, they are welcome to. But this was not so much about how much change this would bring, as much as it was about divesting myself from a love of what we are taught ‘empirically’ makes us valuable. Haya, Aunty Azza, and our friends standing with them sent me their du’as, as did Palestinians – and so, all that is left is a hope that Allah accepts it – what is more valuable now? The du’as of the oppressed, or the certificate from a colonial institution invested in a racially segregated apartheid state? I haven’t come to think of it as a sacrifice, as much as it now feels liberatory.

Right now, there are hundreds of predominantly non-Muslims who have expressed their public support for the banned direct action group Palestine Action in the UK, forcing the police to arrest them. Just over a week ago, my friend, colleague, and former Guantanamo Bay detainee, Moazzam Begg, chose to be arrested alongside this group – all for the sake of sacrificing and taking risks to defend Palestine. Such actions are breaking the asphyxiation imposed on us by the global War on Terror – that arrest, charge, and conviction can no longer be seen as something to be ashamed of, but rather something that we celebrate as more and more people take risks for Palestine.

The world is changing, and with that, we must change our relationship to it. Can we encourage ourselves to sacrifice in different ways? Can we see our children expelled from their university campuses? Can we see ourselves being arrested for the sake of standing up for a cause? Can we see ourselves divesting from the very institutions that create harm in the world? If we can, then inshallah we will win – even if that means material loss in this life.

Related:

– Whistleblower Exposes Aid Organization’s Links With Israeli Military

– Foreign Affairs Official Resigns Over Gaza Genocide

The post On Burning Accolades And Sacrificing: Asim Qureshi Speaks Out About Decision To Burn His SOAS Degree appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.