The Muslim Zakat: a vision of the "big society"?

Re-awakening a sense of comradery.

The holy month of Ramadan - a time of fasting and intense spiritual reflection and worship for Muslims - is now well underway. A central feature of this sacred month is giving to charity, and in particular the concept of Zakat, where millions of Muslims across the UK will be pledging a proportion of their income to support the most vulnerable communities in need.

At the same time, the coalition government’s big society agenda is fast losing momentum. Efforts to make giving a "social norm" in the UK have been met with tepid enthusiasm by the general public and the charity world alike, amidst a failing economy and a charitable sector struggling to cope within an uncertain economic environment. But as ministers scramble for solutions to address the predicament, the overarching concept of Zakat presents a vision of a "big society" in action; a social contract between civilisations’ rich and poor where each individual shares a moral and duty-bound obligation to help one another.

So what lessons can the state’s flagship programme learn from this spiritual act of giving and is there space for Zakat to fill the unfolding funding vacuum?

Zakat is the third pillar of Islam and the compulsory form of charity ordained by God to be paid each year. Every year, each Muslim that meets the minimum wealth criteria (known as the nisab) is compelled to pay 2.5 per cent of their wealth to people in need.

Zakat is not seen solely as a mechanism to redistribute income to the poorer elements of Islamic civilisation. It is also believed to ‘purify’ an individual’s accumulation of wealth and assets over a year, while enshrining the right of help to the community’s needy.

Zakat has been in practice since the foundation of Islam over 1400 years ago. A system for the collection and distribution of Zakat first materialised following the Prophet’s (pbuh) migration to Medina (known as the hijra). Collectors of Zakat were appointed to visit potential Zakat payers, and having helped them to assess their Zakatable assets, would collect the due amounts and distribute it to those in need within the local area and its surroundings.

Anecdotal reports from the first 100 years of Islam indicate that Zakat had a huge impact on poverty alleviation. While no figures on Zakat collection during this period exist, narrations from the time of Caliph Umar bin al-Khattab (634-643AD) and Omar bin Abdul Aziz (718-720AD) suggest poverty was eradicated, with rulers in some regions struggling to disperse Zakat proceeds due to the lack of poor and eligible recipients.

Government ministers would be hard-pressed to ignore recent figures on Zakat donations, which indicate that such offerings are one of the largest contributors in humanitarian world today. A report from IRIN, the news and analysis service of the UN office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (UNOCHA), included estimates that each year, somewhere between US$200 bn and US$1 trn (£130 bn and £645 bn respectively) are given as mandatory and voluntary donations across the Muslim world. At the low end of this estimate, this is 15 times more than global humanitarian aid contributions in 2011.

There remains great potential for Zakat donations to play an even more important role towards development, particularly within these shores. In the UK, Zakat tends to be paid to Muslim relief agencies that address international issues and humanitarian crises, such as poverty relief and helping people meet their basic needs. However, an important tenet of Zakat is that collected funds should be dispersed locally first where there is need before being spread further afield.

As ministers struggle to instil a culture of giving within British society, Islam and its concept of Zakat illustrates the potential of philanthropy when effective drivers to give are in place.

It may be idealistic to suggest that Zakat can inspire a new generation of givers in the UK. Yet the brotherly spirit and the love and care between one another that embodies this act of giving can certainly be held up as an example of a working human community in action. With the landmark events of 2012 filling the nation with pride and re-awakening a sense of citizen comradery among the British population, the possibilities of Zakat making a larger contribution to eligible causes in the UK should be a major area of consideration; an opportunity for Muslims to use their faith as a benchmark for forging the nation’s "big society".

Fadi Itani is Chief Executive of Zakat House. For more information about Zakat House and their latest campaign, visit www.justzakat.org.uk

Photograph: Getty Images

Fadi Itani is Chief Executive of Zakat House. For more information about Zakat House and their latest campaign, visit www.justzakat.org.uk

Felipe Araujo
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Hull revisited: What happens when a Brexit stronghold becomes City of Culture?

We report from Hull, to find out if you can replace the kind of nostalgia that led to a Leave vote with cultural investment.

At 75 metres long, the offshore wind turbine blade erected across Queen Victoria Square, in the heart of Hull, is a sculpture intended to mark a new chapter in the city’s history. For the next 12 months, Hull, a city of more than a quarter of a million people in the northeast of England, will be the UK’s City of Culture.

The 28-tonne blade hails from the local Siemens plant. The German technology company employs around 1,000 people in the area, making it Hull’s biggest single employer.

Seen up close in this context – laid dormant in the middle of a town square instead of spinning up in the air generating energy – the structure is meant to remind passersby of a giant sea creature. It is also, I’m told, an allusion to Hull’s rich maritime history.


All photos: Felipe Araujo

Nostalgia is a big thing in this part of the country. At one point, Hull was the UK’s third largest port but technology and privatisation drastically changed that. The battle over cod fishing with Iceland in the waters of the North Sea 40 years ago has also dealt a major blow to a region with a long and proud trawling tradition.

People here still talk about a bygone era when the fishing industry provided jobs for everyone and there was enough money to go around.

Fast forward to 2017, and the country’s new capital of culture is the same city that voted 67 per cent in favour of leaving the EU last June. Its new-found prestige, it seems, is not enough to erase years of neglect by a political class “too busy for commoners like us”, as one resident puts it.

“More than a message to Brussels, it [the Brexit vote] was a message to Westminster,” Paul Leeson-Taylor, a filmmaker born and bred in Hull, tells me. “For the first time in a long time people in Hull felt like they had the chance to change something, and they took it.”

But while speaking to people on the high street and hanging out with locals at the Community Boxing Club in Orchard Park, one of the city’s most deprived areas, there is one word that consistently popped up in conversation – more than any specific policy from Westminster or the much-hated rules “dictated” by Brussels. Foreigners.

According to official figures, Hull’s population is 89.1 per cent white British. Still, immigration is big on people’s minds here.

During my two-day stay in the city, I find myself being the only black person in most places I visit – I’m certainly the only black guy at the boxing club. So when someone begins a sentence with “I’m not racist but…”, I know a tirade on immigrants is about to ensue.

“There are just too many of them,” Nick Beach, an estate agent whose Polish clientele is a big part of his business, tells me as he is about to teach a boxing class to local children. Beach was born in Shepherd’s Bush, in West London, but has been living in Hull for the last 20 years.

“When I go down there these days and go into Westfield shopping centre, it is very rare you get an English person serving you now,” he says. “I just find it disappointing that you go into your capital city and you are a minority there.”

These are the much-discussed “left behind”, a white working-class community that has gained particular prominence in a time of Brexit and Donald Trump. Under economic pressure and facing social change, they want to have their say in running a country they claim to no longer recognise.

For Professor Simon Lee, a senior politics lecturer at the University of Hull, immigration is only a superficial layer when it comes to explaining the resentment I witness here. For him, the loss of the empire 70 years ago is still something that as a country Britain hasn’t come to terms with.

“The reason for us to be together as a United Kingdom has gone, so what is the project?”

As destiny would have it, a foreign company will now play a major role on Hull’s economic future, at least in the short term. In the wake of the Brexit vote, there were widespread fears Siemens would pull out of the region and take its factory elsewhere. With the massive blade looming large in the background, Jason Speedy, director of the blade factory in Hull, assures me that isn’t the case.

“The Brexit decision has made no difference. We have made our investment decision, so Siemens, together with the Association of British Ports, has put in £310m. It’s all full steam ahead.”

As Hull becomes the country’s cultural hub for the next few months, the hope is that its residents stop looking back and start looking forward.

For Professor Lee, though, until there is a complete change in the power structures that run the country, the north-south divide will remain – with or without the EU. “The way you kill nostalgia is to have something new,” he said. “The reason why people here are nostalgic is because there is nothing to replace it with.”

Felipe Araujo is a freelance journalist based in London. He writes about race, culture and sports. He covered the Rio Olympics and Paralympics on the ground for the New Statesman. He tweets @felipethejourno.