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

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A swimming pool and a bleeding toe put my medical competency in doubt

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Sometimes the search engine wins. 

The brutal heatwave affecting southern Europe this summer has become known among locals as “Lucifer”. Having just returned from Italy, I fully understand the nickname. An early excursion caused the beginnings of sunstroke, so we abandoned plans to explore the cultural heritage of the Amalfi region and strayed no further than five metres from the hotel pool for the rest of the week.

The children were delighted, particularly my 12-year-old stepdaughter, Gracie, who proceeded to spend hours at a time playing in the water. Towelling herself after one long session, she noticed something odd.

“What’s happened there?” she asked, holding her foot aloft in front of my face.

I inspected the proffered appendage: on the underside of her big toe was an oblong area of glistening red flesh that looked like a chunk of raw steak.

“Did you injure it?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

I shrugged and said she must have grazed it. She wasn’t convinced, pointing out that she would remember if she had done that. She has great faith in plasters, though, and once it was dressed she forgot all about it. I dismissed it, too, assuming it was one of those things.

By the end of the next day, the pulp on the underside of all of her toes looked the same. As the doctor in the family, I felt under some pressure to come up with an explanation. I made up something about burns from the hot paving slabs around the pool. Gracie didn’t say as much, but her look suggested a dawning scepticism over my claims to hold a medical degree.

The next day, Gracie and her new-found holiday playmate, Eve, abruptly terminated a marathon piggy-in-the-middle session in the pool with Eve’s dad. “Our feet are bleeding,” they announced, somewhat incredulously. Sure enough, bright-red blood was flowing, apparently painlessly, from the bottoms of their big toes.

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Often, what patients discover on the internet causes them undue alarm, and our role is to provide context and reassurance. But not infrequently, people come across information that outstrips our knowledge. On my return from our room with fresh supplies of plasters, my wife looked up from her sun lounger with an air of quiet amusement.

“It’s called ‘pool toe’,” she said, handing me her iPhone. The page she had tracked down described the girls’ situation exactly: friction burns, most commonly seen in children, caused by repetitive hopping about on the abrasive floors of swimming pools. Doctors practising in hot countries must see it all the time. I doubt it presents often to British GPs.

I remained puzzled about the lack of pain. The injuries looked bad, but neither Gracie nor Eve was particularly bothered. Here the internet drew a blank, but I suspect it has to do with the “pruning” of our skin that we’re all familiar with after a soak in the bath. This only occurs over the pulps of our fingers and toes. It was once thought to be caused by water diffusing into skin cells, making them swell, but the truth is far more fascinating.

The wrinkling is an active process, triggered by immersion, in which the blood supply to the pulp regions is switched off, causing the skin there to shrink and pucker. This creates the biological equivalent of tyre treads on our fingers and toes and markedly improves our grip – of great evolutionary advantage when grasping slippery fish in a river, or if trying to maintain balance on slick wet rocks.

The flip side of this is much greater friction, leading to abrasion of the skin through repeated micro-trauma. And the lack of blood flow causes nerves to shut down, depriving us of the pain that would otherwise alert us to the ongoing tissue damage. An adaptation that helped our ancestors hunt in rivers proves considerably less use on a modern summer holiday.

I may not have seen much of the local heritage, but the trip to Italy taught me something new all the same. 

This article first appeared in the 17 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump goes nuclear