North Africa and the Middle East are currently experiencing extreme drought. To the east, Indonesia, Bangladesh, and the Maldives are threatened by devastating floods (with rising sea levels set to displace 18 million people by 2050 from Bangladesh alone). Even at a glance, it immediately becomes clear that Muslim-majority countries are on the very frontline of the climate crisis.

In the meantime, Muslims demonstrate their dedication to humanitarian causes by giving more to charity than any other faith group in the UK – so how might they turn that dedication into climate action? To understand the potential for climatea ctivism in the UK’s Muslim diaspora, and in global Muslim communities beyond, I spoke to Dr Husna Ahmad OBE, and Nana Firman, a city planner and activist.

Originally from Bangladesh but now a resident in London, Husna is the CEO of Global One, a Muslim woman-led organisation that focuses on international development. She tells me that: ‘When people came to the UK, they were really concerned about preserving the religion and the dīn,1 so there are certain things that they focused on more, like having a masjid (mosque), the halal meat, the hijab, the prayers.’

‘I’ve done a toolkit on Islamic farming. You can see that between the 8th and the 12th century... they really looked at models of agriculture which were organic... we as Muslims have forgotten about that, those are things that we need to bring back,’ suggests Husna.

Nana Firman, a self-proclaimed ‘Muslim environmental activist’ was working as a city planner in her native Indonesia when an earthquake and tsunami hit in 2004. She used Islam as a tool to incentivise authorities to sustainably reconstruct the region on the northern tip of Sumatra and rehabilitate its natural landscape.

In the days that followed the tsunami, Nana tells me that she found herself preoccupied with one particular question: “How do I explain that it’s important to take care of nature after this disaster?” ‘My friend asked, “why don’t you try to talk to them from Islamic teaching?”’

‘I was like “What? What’s Islamic teaching got to do with what I do?” I was amazed because I found so many teachings that I had heard growing up, but never connected to protecting nature or environment, and I thought “this is wonderful, I can definitely engage that.”’

When the prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) would offer stories and advice, his companions would memorise and share them orally. Eventually, these traditions were written down and became known as hadīth, which to this day is a source of guidance for Muslims worldwide, second to the Quran.

Nana found that the divine voice and prophetic tradition, which is also made up of the teachings of the prophet’s companions and successive leaders, were explicit in advocating for care of the planet. Chapter seven of the Quran tells us to ‘eat and drink, but waste not by excess for Allah loves not the wasters,’ and Chapter 17 tells us not to ‘strut arrogantly about the Earth.’

Furthermore, prophetic tradition tells us to ‘conserve water, even by a flowing stream’ and ‘whoever plants a tree, and diligently looks after it until it matures and bears fruit, is rewarded.’

However, global Muslim communities are increasingly vulnerable. On top of the implications for migration, three of the five pillars of Islam are directly threatened by climate change. Ṣalāh, ritual prayer, relies upon performing ritual ablution beforehand; ṣawm, fasting in the holy month of Ramadan, already caused deaths across India and Pakistan during the 2018 heatwave; and Hajj, holy pilgrimage, is focused on Mecca, where Nana tells me that in 10 to 20 years, Muslims will only be able to bear the heat in the open air for 30 minutes.

In the face of this, there are a number of localised, smaller-scale projects led by Muslims that are looking to combat climate change. These include various, green Ramadan campaigns, which promote reduced food waste, plastic waste and meat consumption; Cambridge Central Mosque in the UK, which is powered by green energy; and the installation of solar panels in mosques across Morocco and Jordan. These initiatives, however, lack cohesion.

In an effort to combine these disparate forces, in August 2015, Nana initiated the Islamic Declaration on Global Climate Change, in collaboration with GreenFaith, Islamic Relief International, and the Islamic Foundation for Ecology and Environmental Sciences. She then went on to establish the Global Muslim Climate Network.

‘We created that network as a platform for people to work together, to exchange ideas or support each other. What I’m still lacking right now is the support from Muslim leadership...we need the power to support [activists].’

Husna, a board member for Faith in Water, and Faith for the Climate, agrees: ‘what we’re not seeing is an alignment between all these different groups... we’re lacking Muslim leadership to drive this forward.’ Religious and political Muslim leaders worldwide are largely occupied by wars, political unrest, and terrorism in Muslim-majority countries, which devastatingly interupt, and contradict, the collective action so urgently needed to fight climate change. As for Muslim citizens on the ground, climate change is put on the backburner due to severe poverty in Muslim-majority countries in the global south, and economic deprivation and islamophobia faced by Muslim minorities in the global north.

‘You need to realise that the diaspora communities – especially in the UK... are struggling economically, financially, socially, education-wise. There’s so many fronts that they’re trying to tackle and deal with that climate change is the last thing in their thought process,’ says Husna. What if the Muslims who are already involved in mainstream climate activism could spread their message based on Islamic principles?

Nana sees participating in the climate conversation as a defiant act that disrupts stereotypes projected onto Muslims: ‘They never expect a Muslim woman in
hijab to talk about environment or climate because... they already have their own view of what you’re supposed to be, but then you’re out of the box.’

Husna agrees that Muslims contributing to environmentalist movements ‘breaks down so many barriers, people get to know us as Muslims who aren’t something alien.’

In contrast to the lack of understanding that surrounds Muslim prayer, fasting and dress, participation in climate activism in the name of faith is perhaps a more relatable manifestation of Islam that activists of any creed could welcome.

Perhaps increased Muslim engagement in activism to address the biggest threat the natural world has ever faced, could form the basis of better relationships between Muslims and non-Muslims. The wider environmental movement could certainly benefit from the pure intentions, compassion, and strong sense of purpose that are inherent to Islamic environmental perspectives.

As climate research becomes ever more complex and interdisciplinary, and the need to act becomes overwhelming – solace and meaning for both Muslims and non-Muslims could be found in the purity of Islamic environmental teachings.

As Nana explains, ‘it’s a moral and ethical issue, and the only thing that can solve that is from the faith or spiritual perspective.’ We need scientists and innovators to create evidence-based solutions to climate change just as much as we need passionate, motivated individuals implementing them as part of a greater purpose. After all, prophetic tradition tells us that ‘the Earth is green and beautiful, and Allah has appointed you his stewards over it.’