Followers

Tuesday, August 5, 2025

JALUR GEMILANG: Let’s Always Bersangka Baik, Not Bersangka Buruk

 


Sometimes, in the rush of Merdeka preparations, mistakes happen. A flag may be hung upside down. A symbol may be displayed incorrectly. These are not always acts of disrespect—but often, human error.

When such incidents occur, especially involving our beloved Jalur Gemilang, our response matters.

Do we react with anger and suspicion (bersangka buruk)? Or do we pause, reflect, and choose to respond with understanding and wisdom (bersangka baik)?

This is where we must return to the very spirit of the four colours of our flag.

Let blue guide us to unity and calm. Let white remind us to be sincere and honest in our assessment. Let red give us the courage to correct with dignity, not to shame. And let yellow inspire us to act with grace and respect, as our royal traditions teach.

We must quickly nip mistakes in the bud—but with compassion.

Not every error demands a ministerial response or a police investigation. In cases like a school hanging the flag upside down by accident, a gentle correction from a district officer or community leader is more than enough. Let us not inflate errors into controversies. Let us not trade harmony for headlines.

In fact, even when the Jalur Gemilang is mistakenly flown upside down, it can still become a catalyst for unity—if we choose mercy and kindness.

It is in our rahmah, not our rage, that we build a better Malaysia. In this way, we win either way—whether it was truly a mistake or otherwise—because we responded with dignity, compassion, and wisdom.

Enough of always bersangka buruk. Let’s start anew this Merdeka.

Let this be the year we fly the Jalur Gemilang not only with our hands—but with our hearts.

Peace,

Anas Zubedy

Kuala Lumpur

ILLEGAL DOUBLE COMMISSION IN PENANG: A BLOW TO CONSUMER RIGHTS AND THE STATE’S REPUTATION


I write with deep concern about an ongoing practice in Penang’s rental market—one that quietly burdens tenants, undermines investor confidence, and may be in breach of Malaysia’s laws protecting consumers.

It has become increasingly common for both tenants and landlords to be charged one month’s rent each as agent commission.

This appears to go against the spirit and letter of the Valuers, Appraisers, Estate Agents and Property Managers Act 1981 (Act 242), which permits only one party—typically the landlord—to bear this cost. The law, enforced by the Board of Valuers, Appraisers, Estate Agents and Property Managers (LPPEH) under the Ministry of Finance, is clear—but its enforcement in this context seems lacking.

This is not a small matter. Renters—including students, young families, and digital professionals—are often faced with paying 4 to 5 months’ rent upfront, making housing less accessible and significantly more expensive.

Many are unaware that such practices may be illegal. It is a consumer rights issue, and one that deserves thoughtful and immediate attention.

There are broader implications too:

It may deter foreign talent and remote workers under MM2H and DE Rantau from choosing Penang, especially when housing feels opaque or overly costly.

It risks dampening Malaysia’s vision of becoming a digital and semiconductor hub, where talent mobility is essential.

It contributes to regional inequality, as renters in Penang and the northern region are effectively paying more than those in other parts of the country for the same right to secure a home.

Perhaps most importantly, it erodes public trust, especially if such practices continue unchecked.

I respectfully urge the Ministry of Finance, LPPEH, and the Penang State Government to look into this matter with urgency. It is my hope that the relevant authorities will step in to enforce the law, ensure transparency, and protect the rights of both renters and landlords.

This is not just about property—it is about fairness, trust, and doing what is right for Penang, its people, and the country. With proactive leadership, I believe this issue can be resolved in a way that strengthens confidence in our systems and supports Malaysia’s global ambitions.

Sincerely,
Anas Zubedy
Penang


Monday, August 4, 2025

A QURANIC DEFINITION OF A HOLOCAUST?


In a recent interview, Piers Morgan challenged Candace Owens’ characterization of the situation in Gaza as a “holocaust.” He argued that the comparison was inappropriate, stressing that the Holocaust refers specifically to the genocide of six million Jews orchestrated by Adolf Hitler and the Nazi regime. While acknowledging that the loss of life in Gaza is deeply tragic, Morgan noted that the current death toll—under 50,000—is vastly different in both scale and historical context.

In this article, I aim to explore the concept of a holocaust as a general descriptive term—not limited to the Nazi genocide. I will examine what constitutes a holocaust from a broader historical and moral perspective. Finally, I will reflect on how the Qur’an, as a moral benchmark, might frame what constitutes a holocaust.

What Is a Holocaust in general terms?
A holocaust is among the gravest expressions of human cruelty—a large-scale, deliberate, and systematic destruction of human life. It is not the result of natural disasters or accidents, but of calculated human actions rooted in ideology, prejudice, and the abuse of power. At its heart, a holocaust represents a complete moral collapse, where the tools of governance or influence are turned against a group with the intent to destroy.
Central to any holocaust is massive loss of life, often in the hundreds of thousands or millions. These atrocities are not spontaneous—they are meticulously planned and executed over time with chilling precision. Victims are targeted not randomly, but for who they are: their race, religion, ethnicity, politics, or social identity. An ideology often drives this targeting, portraying the victims as threats or obstacles.
What distinguishes a holocaust from other forms of violence is the intent to annihilate—not just to conquer or punish, but to erase an entire people or culture. This may include not only physical extermination but also cultural erasure through the destruction of language, religion, and heritage.
Such acts are frequently state-sponsored or institutionally supported, using the machinery of bureaucracy—IDs, propaganda, detention, transportation—to systematize terror. The methods are extreme: mass executions, forced labor, starvation, and torture, all intended to dehumanize and dominate.
The aftermath is devastating. Generations may be lost. Survivors carry deep, lasting trauma. Societies are left grappling with the hatred and silence that allowed such horrors to unfold.
To understand a holocaust is not just to recognize mass killing—but to see it as a total breakdown of moral order, where prejudice becomes policy and power is used to destroy rather than protect. The term “holocaust” is both a description and a warning—of what happens when humanity turns against itself.

A Broader Lens: Historical Events That Reflect the True Meaning of a Holocaust
While the Nazi genocide is well known and widely documented, here are 15 other examples of what may also be described as holocausts, based on scale, intent, and systematic targeting:
One, the Transatlantic Slave Trade (16th–19th century), where over 12 million Africans were kidnapped, sold, and transported under brutal, inhumane conditions. Millions died during the Middle Passage or while enslaved. This atrocity was driven by European colonial powers such as Britain, Portugal, France, and the Netherlands.
Two, the genocide of Native Americans across the Americas (15th–20th century), which included forced removals like the Trail of Tears, massacres, and cultural destruction. Perpetrated by European settlers and later the U.S. and Canadian governments, it resulted in the loss of millions of Indigenous lives and ways of life.
Three, the Belgian atrocities in the Congo (1885–1908), where King Leopold II’s regime caused the deaths of an estimated 10 million Congolese through forced labor, mutilation, starvation, and executions—all in pursuit of rubber and ivory profits.
Four, the Aboriginal genocide in Australia (1788–1900s), marked by massacres, land dispossession, and forced assimilation. British colonial policies included the removal of Aboriginal children from their families, known as the Stolen Generations, aimed at erasing Indigenous identity.
Five, the Herero and Nama genocide (1904–1908) in present-day Namibia, where German colonial forces exterminated up to 80% of the Herero and 50% of the Nama through desertification, executions, and concentration camps.
Six, the Bengal Famine of 1943, which killed up to 3 million Indians. The famine was exacerbated by British colonial policies under Winston Churchill, including grain diversion and denial of relief. Churchill is reported to have blamed Indians for their own deaths.
Seven, the Great Irish Famine (1845–1852), during which over 1 million Irish died and another million emigrated. While the potato blight was natural, British policies of continued food exports, high taxation, and mass evictions magnified the suffering.
Eight, the Rwandan genocide (1994), in which nearly 1 million Tutsis and moderate Hutus were slaughtered within 100 days. While executed locally, international powers including France and Belgium have been criticized for their roles and failure to intervene.
Nine, the Armenian genocide (1915–1923), where the Ottoman Empire systematically killed or deported 1.5 million Armenians through mass executions, starvation, and forced marches. Despite strong historical evidence, this genocide is still officially denied by Turkey.
Ten, the Indonesian anti-communist purge (1965–66), where an estimated 500,000 to 1 million people were killed, including communists, ethnic Chinese, and left-leaning Muslims. The mass killings occurred with support and encouragement from the United States and the United Kingdom.
Eleven, the Khmer Rouge genocide in Cambodia (1975–1979), where nearly 2 million people died under Pol Pot’s regime due to mass executions, forced labor, starvation, and systematic targeting of intellectuals and ethnic minorities.
Twelve, the Japanese atrocities in Nanjing and East Asia during World War II (1937–1945), especially the Nanjing Massacre, where over 300,000 civilians and prisoners of war were brutally killed, and thousands of women raped, as part of Imperial Japan’s expansionist campaign.
Thirteen, the Iraq War and Sanctions (1990–2011), where over 500,000 Iraqi children are estimated to have died due to U.N. sanctions, according to UNICEF. The 2003 U.S.-led invasion further caused massive civilian deaths, torture scandals (e.g., Abu Ghraib), and widespread displacement.
Fourteen, the Cultural Revolution in China (1966–1976), where Mao Zedong’s political purge led to the deaths of an estimated 1.5 to 2 million people. Intellectuals, minorities, and dissidents were targeted through public humiliation, torture, and executions under the banner of ideological purity.
Fifteen, the Rohingya crisis (2016–present), where Myanmar’s military has been accused of genocide against the Rohingya Muslim minority. Villages were razed, civilians massacred, and over 700,000 people were forced to flee to Bangladesh amid allegations of mass rapes and ethnic cleansing.

Piers Morgan or Candace Owens?
Based on the general description of a holocaust—large-scale, systematic, and targeted destruction of human life—what is happening in Gaza today may also be understood through this lens. While the death toll may differ in scale from other historical cases, the sustained bombardment, mass displacement, and collective punishment of a specific population raise urgent moral, legal, and humanitarian concerns.
I agree with Candace Owens: we must act now. Just as the world should have intervened in the early stages of the Nazi genocide, we cannot wait until the death toll reaches a million to acknowledge the gravity of what is unfolding. A holocaust is not defined solely by numbers—it is defined by intent, system, and silence. It is also important to remember that the list above is not exhaustive. Many other atrocities, past and ongoing, reflect the same tragic pattern. Each one calls for remembrance, justice, and the courage to act before it is too late.

How Does the Qur’an Frame a Holocaust?
A holocaust, by its very nature, involves the large-scale and systematic destruction of human life. It is not the death of one, or one hundred, or even one hundred thousand—but often the calculated erasure of entire communities. It shocks the conscience by the scale of its brutality.
Yet the Qur’an offers a framing that is simple, clear, deep, and spiritual. It does not measure the value of life in numbers but in principle. The Quran decrees,
“Whoever kills a soul—unless for a soul or for corruption [done] in the land—IT IS AS IF HE HAD SLAIN MANKIND ENTIRELY. And whoever saves one—it is as if he had saved mankind entirely.” -Quran 5:32
This verse elevates the worth of a single life to that of all humanity. In the Qur’an’s moral vision, the intentional killing of one innocent soul is not a small crime—it is a universal tragedy.
From this divine lens: ONE INNOCENT DEATH EQUALS A HOLOCAUST.
Peace,
Anas Zubedy
Kuala Lumpur

Saturday, August 2, 2025

HOW BLAIR AND OBAMA CAN HEAL THEMSELVES – LESSONS FROM HINDUISM, BUDDHISM, CHRISTIANITY AND ISLAM.



An Open Letter to Tony Blair and Barack Obama
Both Barack Obama and Tony Blair have, in their own ways, expressed regret over pivotal decisions that contributed to chaos in the Middle East. Their reflections, while different in tone and approach, mark an important and commendable step in the direction of personal accountability.
Tony Blair, in a deeply emotional statement following the 2016 Chilcot Inquiry into the Iraq War, accepted “full responsibility without exception or excuse.” He openly apologised for flawed intelligence and inadequate post-war planning, expressing profound sorrow. At the same time, he stood by the decision to remove Saddam Hussein, reflecting a complex mix of remorse and justification.
Barack Obama, though not offering a formal apology for U.S. involvement—or inaction—in Syria, has spoken candidly about his regrets. He described the Syrian crisis as one of the most painful aspects of his presidency. In his 2016 farewell press conference, he shared how deeply affected he felt by the suffering in Aleppo, and earlier identified the failure to plan post-intervention in Libya as his “worst mistake.” His reflections show a leader grappling sincerely with the consequences of difficult decisions.
Both men have taken meaningful steps by publicly acknowledging their regrets. This in itself is a sign of growth and integrity. In this letter, we do not seek to criticise, but to offer a pathway forward—one that may help them find deeper peace with themselves, with the world, and ultimately, with their Maker. For leaders who have shaped history, the journey toward redemption and healing is not only possible, but powerful.
________________________________________
What Blair and Obama Are Regretting About
At the heart of the regrets expressed by Blair and Obama lies a painful and sobering reality: the loss of innocent lives—especially those of children. While policy decisions are made in cabinet rooms, their consequences are lived out in bombed schools, refugee camps, and silent graves across the Middle East.
In Iraq, the war that followed Blair’s decision to join the 2003 U.S.-led invasion caused widespread destruction. Conservative estimates suggest over 200,000 civilians have died, with thousands of children among the dead.
However, when combined with the years of crippling international sanctions before the war, some humanitarian studies have estimated that up to half a million Iraqi children may have died due to conflict-related causes, including malnutrition and lack of medical care. A generation of Iraqi children grew up under the shadow of war, trauma, displacement, and poverty. Today, according to UNICEF, at least one in five Iraqi children still requires humanitarian assistance, and millions lack access to clean water, healthcare, and quality education—the basic building blocks of a safe and meaningful life.
In Syria, the consequences of inaction and hesitation—regretted by Obama—have been equally devastating. Since the conflict began in 2011, more than 29,000 children have been killed, according to the Syrian Network for Human Rights.
Millions more have been wounded, orphaned, or displaced. Cities like Aleppo became haunting symbols of shattered childhoods. Many Syrian children now live as refugees, robbed of stability, education, and peace. Their trauma is not fleeting—it will shape who they become, and what kind of future they can hope for.
And the suffering continues. Today, children in both Iraq and Syria face ongoing threats—of violence, hunger, exploitation, and extremism. Tomorrow, they will carry the emotional and psychological scars of these wars into adulthood, shaping future generations and the fragile peace that may one day emerge.
This is what Blair and Obama are regretting—not merely flawed strategies or missed opportunities, but the irreversible cost borne by the most vulnerable: the children who had no say, no shelter, and no safe place to run. Their expressions of regret are steps in the right direction. The next step is to ask: what now?
How can these two influential figures—who once shaped history—now help heal it?
________________________________________
From Harm to Healing: Lessons from Four Great Transformations
Across time and tradition, we find stories of men who caused great harm—men of violence, arrogance, and destruction. And yet, something changed. In a moment of clarity, of awakening, of truth—they turned. They repented. They transformed. They spent the rest of their lives healing the very world they once helped break.
If Tony Blair and Barack Obama are looking for a path forward, they need not look far. History and religion offer profound examples of how one can turn regret into redemption, and power into peace.
Ratnakar the Bandit who Became Valmiki (Hinduism)
Once, there was a highway robber named Ratnakar, feared by all who crossed his path.
He attacked and killed travellers without remorse, justifying his actions as a means to feed his family. To him, there was no wrong—only survival.
But everything changed when he met Narada, the wandering sage. Narada asked a piercing question: “Will your family share in the sin of your actions?”
Ratnakar was stunned. He went home and realised they would not. The truth broke his heart.
He gave up violence, meditated in remorse for years, and emerged as Valmiki, the sage who composed the Ramayana. From bandit to poet-saint, he became a teacher of dharma, compassion, and righteousness.
Angulimala, the Serial Killer who Became a Monk (Buddhism)
Deceived by a cruel teacher, Angulimala believed that killing was the path to enlightenment. He collected the fingers of his victims and wore them as a garland—his name means “finger necklace.”
When he met the Buddha, he prepared to strike again. But the Buddha, calm and unmoving, said: “I have stopped, Angulimala. Have you?”
In that moment, Angulimala’s heart cracked open. He dropped his sword, asked for forgiveness, and became a monk. Villagers hated him, but he bore their hatred silently. Through patience and humility, he attained arahantship—true enlightenment.
Saul of Tarsus who Became Paul the Apostle (Christianity)
Saul was once a hunter of Christians, a man who approved of persecution and violence in the name of religious purity.
But on the road to Damascus, he was struck by a blinding light. He heard the voice of Jesus say, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?”
He was blinded for three days. When his sight returned, so did a new understanding.
Saul became Paul, Christianity’s most influential missionary, preaching love, grace, and forgiveness. His letters became scripture. His transformation became legend.
Umar ibn al-Khattab, the Oppressor Turned Just Caliph (Islam)
In the early days of Islam, Umar was a fierce enemy of the Prophet ï·º. He once marched out intending to kill him.
But first, he learned that his own sister had accepted Islam. When he burst into her home and heard her reciting the Qur’an, he was struck by its beauty. He broke down, asked to see the Prophet, and embraced Islam.
Umar became the second Caliph, known for his justice, simplicity, and accountability. He once said, “If a dog were to go hungry on the banks of the Euphrates, I fear Allah would hold me responsible.” From persecutor to protector, Umar’s legacy is one of reform and mercy.
________________________________________
Sacred Reminders from Four Traditions
Hinduism (Bhagavad Gita 9:30)
"Even if the most sinful person worships Me with unwavering devotion, he must be regarded as righteous, for he has rightly resolved."
Buddhism (Dhammapada 173)
"Though formerly he committed evil deeds, if he covers them with good and becomes pure, he lights up the world like the moon freed from clouds."
Christianity (Luke 15:7)
"There will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance."
Islam (Qur’an 39:53)
“Say, O My servants who have transgressed against themselves: do not despair of the mercy of Allah. Indeed, Allah forgives all sins.”
________________________________________
A Final Reflection
To regret is noble. To admit one’s mistake is courageous. But regret becomes real only when followed by change. Saying sorry while continuing life in luxury, power, and comfort—disconnected from those who suffered—rings hollow.
True redemption calls for more.
Dear Mr. Blair and Mr. Obama, if your regret is sincere—and we believe it is—then let the remainder of your lives be lived in service to the children of Iraq and Syria, to the widows and the wounded, to the healing of broken homes and broken hopes.
Go to them. Listen. Help rebuild what was lost. Speak truth even if the world forgets. Live simply. Give generously. Let your legacies be transformed, not by speeches or memoirs, but by humble action.
It is not too late. You can still turn your regret into a calling—and find peace not only with the world but with your own souls.
Peace.
Anas Zubedy
Kuala Lumpur

Saturday, July 26, 2025

WHAT IF LORD SHIVA MEDIATES BETWEEN THAILAND AND CAMBODIA



“I do not often speak. But when my name echoes amid gunfire, and the temple once built in my honour becomes a battlefield, I must.

To my children in Thailand and Cambodia.
Why do you fight over Preah Vihear and the land that surrounds it—a space you did not build, a place meant for peace?
Long before your borders were drawn, this temple stood upon the mountain. Not to mark territory, but to invite transcendence. Not to serve nations, but to silence ego. It was carved in stone not to divide, but to dissolve pride.
“That person who gives up all desires, moves free from attachment, ego, and thirst for possession, attains peace.”
— Bhagavad Gita 2:71
Now you argue not just over the temple, but over the sacred soil that holds it. You raise soldiers and weapons where once pilgrims raised prayers. You carry forward the grudges of the dead, as if history’s wounds must be inherited.
“For that which is born must die… the wise grieve neither for the living nor the dead.”
— Bhagavad Gita 2:27–30
But I tell you—this is not a political dispute. It is a test.
A test of whether you will be ruled by ego or by wisdom.
A test of whether you will cling to illusion, or rise above it.
“He who sees all beings in the Self, and the Self in all beings, never turns away from it.”
— Isha Upanishad, Verse 6
I do not reside in flags or treaties. I reside in hearts emptied of pride. If you truly wish to honour Me, do not fight in My name. Surrender your anger. Surrender your need to dominate.

I offer you a path forward.
Let Preah Vihear and its surrounding lands become what they were always meant to be:
  • A World Heritage sanctuary, shared by all.
  • A pilgrimage site, where people come to lose their egos, not their lives.
  • A center for peace, where world leaders can gather not to declare war, but to learn how to end it.
“Whenever righteousness declines and unrighteousness rises, I manifest… to protect the good and destroy evil, and establish dharma.”
— Bhagavad Gita 4:7–8
Let no soldier walk its grounds unless barefoot.
Let no blood be spilled where devotion was once poured.
Let the temple and its land be not a symbol of division, but of unity for the world.
“The Self is the friend of the self for him who has conquered the self.”
— Bhagavad Gita 6:6
Now I return to My silence. But remember: if you truly seek Me,
stop fighting. Start surrendering.
Om Namah Shivaya.”
Peace, anas

Sunday, July 20, 2025

IS ISLAM THE BEST FRIEND JUDAISM EVER HAD?



By the end of this article, I hope to demonstrate that, historically, Islam has provided some of the most enduring periods of peace, dignity, and prosperity for Jewish communities.

Let us begin with a compelling moment from history — one that exemplifies Islamic values of justice, humility, and respect for religious diversity.

________________________________________

The Conquest Without Bloodshed

In the year 637 CE, Caliph Ê¿Umar ibn al-Khattab entered the holy city of Jerusalem. But this was no ordinary conquest. There was no massacre, no looting, no forced conversions. 

The Christian Patriarch Sophronius, who had agreed to surrender the city, insisted on handing over the keys personally to the Muslim caliph, trusting in his fairness.

When Ê¿Umar arrived, he came not as a conqueror, but as a humble servant of God — walking alongside his attendant, even switching places with him during the journey so as not to privilege himself.

When prayer time came during a tour of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Ê¿Umar chose not to pray inside the church — not because he was unwelcome, but because he feared that future generations of Muslims might convert the church into a mosque on the grounds that the Caliph once prayed there. He prayed instead on the steps outside, leaving the church protected for Christian worshippers.

This act of restraint and reverence became a hallmark of how Islam, at its best, treated the People of the Book — Jews and Christians alike — with respect, justice, and a sense of shared belonging in the broader ummah of human civilization.

________________________________________

The Return of a Forgotten People

As ʿUmar walked through the sacred city, another troubling truth struck him: the Jews were missing.

They had been banished from Jerusalem for centuries — first by the Romans following the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE, and later by the Christian Byzantine rulers who continued to enforce the ban. A people who once built their spiritual and cultural life in this city were now absent from its streets, synagogues, and sacred grounds.

Ê¿Umar was shocked. 

This went against the very grain of the Islamic vision — a vision that honored the followers of previous prophets and upheld their right to live, worship, and thrive.

So he acted.

Ê¿Umar climbed the Temple Mount, known to Muslims as Al-Haram al-Sharif, and found it buried under centuries of garbage and ruin. The sacred space had been defiled, abandoned, and desecrated — a bitter symbol of centuries of humiliation.

Rather than issuing orders from afar, ʿUmar rolled up his sleeves and began cleaning the site himself. With his own hands, he helped clear the filth, initiating the restoration of a place deeply tied to the Abrahamic tradition. It was an act of both humility and solidarity.

But Ê¿Umar didn’t stop there. He took the bold and unprecedented step of inviting the Jews back to Jerusalem.

Under his leadership, they were allowed to return and rebuild their lives in the very city from which they had been expelled for over 500 years. He appointed KaÊ¿b al-Ahbar, a respected Jewish scholar who had embraced Islam, to help identify the exact site of the ancient Temple so that it could be properly honored. 

Jewish families returned, synagogues reopened, and the Jewish presence in Jerusalem was reborn — not in opposition to Islam, but under its protection.

This was not mere tolerance. It was a moral correction, a redemptive gesture aligned with the Qur’anic call to justice and dignity for all communities of faith.

The Qur’anic Compass: Justice, Pluralism, and Sacred Space

Ê¿Umar ibn al-Khattab’s actions in Jerusalem were not simply political maneuvers or diplomatic gestures. They reflected the moral and spiritual framework laid down by the Qur’an — a scripture that calls believers to justice, compassion, and the protection of all who worship God.

At the heart of Islamic governance is the principle of Ê¿adl (justice). The Qur’an commands:

“Indeed, Allah commands you to render trusts to whom they are due and when you judge between people to judge with justice…”

(Qur’an 4:58)

Ê¿Umar lived by this principle. His insistence on fairness, his refusal to pray in the church, and his invitation for Jews to return to Jerusalem all reflect the Qur’anic ethos that justice must be universal and impartial, regardless of one’s faith or tribe.

Even more powerful is the Qur'an’s affirmation of religious pluralism and the protection of sacred places of worship. In Surah Al-Hajj, God speaks of the necessity of defending not only mosques but also synagogues, churches, and monasteries — because in all of them, His name is remembered:

"...Had Allah not repelled some people by means of others, monasteries, churches, synagogues, and mosques — where Allah’s Name is often mentioned — would have been destroyed. Surely Allah supports those who support Him..."

(Qur’an 22:40, Sahih International)

This verse is profoundly inclusive. It recognizes the holiness of all places where God is worshipped, not just Islamic ones. It commands Muslims to stand up not only for their own religious rights but also for the freedom and sanctity of others.

Ê¿Umar’s decision to protect Christian churches and restore Jewish presence in Jerusalem was therefore not a political anomaly — it was an embodiment of Qur’anic values. He understood that justice is not about favoring one's own group, but about upholding truth, dignity, and the shared human pursuit of the Divine.

Islam, at its roots, is a faith that honors diversity as part of God’s design. As the Qur’an declares:

“To each among you We have prescribed a law and a clear way. If Allah had willed, He could have made you one community. But He willed to test you in what He has given you; so compete with one another in doing good.”

(Qur’an 5:48)

These verses reflect the spiritual source from which Ê¿Umar drew his leadership — a Qur’anic worldview that sees religious difference not as a threat, but as a divine invitation to mutual respect, cooperation, and moral excellence.

The Covenant of Madinah: The Qur’an in Action

If Ê¿Umar’s actions in Jerusalem reflected Qur’anic principles in practice, then the Covenant of Madinah was their foundational blueprint — the first real-world constitution built upon the moral and legal vision of the Qur’an.

Drafted by Prophet Muhammad ï·º shortly after his migration to Madinah, the Covenant (or Constitution) of Madinah was a groundbreaking document. It brought together Muslims, Jews, and pagan Arab tribes under a single political entity — not through conquest, but through a mutual agreement that honored each community’s identity, rights, and responsibilities.

What made the Covenant remarkable was that it did not impose religious uniformity. Instead, it affirmed religious freedom and pluralism as a basis for political unity.

One clause stated:

“The Jews of Banu Awf are one community with the believers. To the Jews their religion, and to the Muslims their religion.”

Each Jewish tribe mentioned in the covenant was given similar recognition. This wasn’t just tolerance — it was constitutional inclusion.

The Covenant outlined shared responsibilities: mutual defense, the pursuit of justice, and peaceful coexistence. It also introduced economic cooperation, recognizing private property, trade rights, and dispute resolution mechanisms that reflected both Qur’anic ethics and local tribal customs.

A Constitution Rooted in Revelation

The Covenant of Madinah was not a secular contract. It was rooted in the Qur’an — a living expression of verses like:

• “Do not let the hatred of a people prevent you from being just. Be just: that is nearer to righteousness...”

(Qur’an 5:8)

• “There is no compulsion in religion...”

(Qur’an 2:256)

• “Help one another in righteousness and piety, and do not help one another in sin and aggression...”

(Qur’an 5:2)

The Prophet ï·º translated these values into a civic structure — proving that Islam is not merely a private faith, but a complete way of life that includes social, political, and economic justice.

The Link to Our Topic

The Covenant of Madinah offers direct insight into how Islam historically treated Jewish communities. At Islam’s very foundation, Jews were recognized not as outsiders, but as partners in a shared society. They were guaranteed safety, freedom of religion, and autonomy — so long as they honored the mutual covenant of peace and responsibility.

The respect shown to Jews in Jerusalem by Ê¿Umar, a student of the Prophet ï·º, was not an exception but a continuation of this constitutional ethic. Both the Covenant of Madinah and Ê¿Umar’s leadership reflect a deeply Qur’anic worldview: one that sees Jews and Christians not as threats, but as fellow People of the Book — part of a divine family of faith.

The Golden Age in Al-Andalus: When Jews Called Muslims Their Protectors

Following the initial wave of Islamic expansion into the Iberian Peninsula in the 8th century, Muslim Spain — Al-Andalus — became a center of science, philosophy, and interfaith cooperation. For nearly 700 years, it stood as a beacon of tolerance and intellectual flourishing, particularly for the Jewish community.

It was here that Jewish culture experienced a renaissance. Hebrew poetry thrived. Rabbinic scholarship deepened. Jews held high government positions, founded schools, and contributed to medicine, astronomy, and philosophy — all under Muslim rule.

One remarkable figure was Hasdai ibn Shaprut, a Jewish physician and diplomat who served as foreign minister and court physician to Caliph ʿAbd al-Rahman III in Córdoba. Under Muslim patronage, he negotiated treaties with Christian kings and even corresponded with Jewish communities in Central Asia.

Later, the towering philosopher Maimonides (Rabbi Moses ben Maimon), born in Córdoba, studied Muslim thinkers like Ibn Rushd (Averroes), wrote in Arabic, and was deeply shaped by the Islamic intellectual climate. He later served as court physician to Saladin’s royal family in Egypt — the very sultan who reclaimed Jerusalem from the Crusaders.

But this golden age wasn’t just for elite scholars and officials.

Ordinary Jews in Al-Andalus were allowed to freely practice their religion, build synagogues, and manage their own communal affairs. They could own property, run businesses, engage in trade, and participate in the bustling marketplaces of Granada, Seville, and Córdoba. Jewish communities had educational institutions, religious courts, and social welfare systems, operating with considerable autonomy.

They lived side by side with Muslims and Christians — sometimes even in mixed neighborhoods — sharing languages, architecture, and cuisine. Though Jews paid the jizyah (a tax on non-Muslims), it came with the guarantee of protection, legal rights, and religious freedom — far from the violent persecution they often faced in the north.

________________________________________

The Ottoman Empire: A Refuge in the Storm

In 1492, the Catholic monarchs of Spain issued the Alhambra Decree, expelling all Jews from Spain under threat of death. Their homes, synagogues, and properties were confiscated. Tens of thousands were forced to flee.

Where did they go?

Many found refuge in the Ottoman Empire, where Sultan Bayezid II welcomed them with open arms. He reportedly mocked the Spanish king for “impoverishing his kingdom and enriching mine.”

The Jewish refugees brought with them skills in printing, medicine, trade, and diplomacy — and they quickly became valued members of Ottoman society.

Cities like Salonika (modern Thessaloniki) became major centers of Jewish life under Ottoman protection. There, Jewish printing presses flourished, yeshivot (religious schools) were established, and Jews lived with a degree of autonomy under their own religious courts (bet din).

And what about ordinary Jews?

They were permitted to rebuild vibrant communities throughout the empire — in Istanbul, Sarajevo, Izmir, Damascus, and beyond. Jews lived openly and practiced their religion freely. Synagogues were built without fear, Sabbath was observed without restriction, and kosher dietary laws were practiced publicly.

Economically, Jews engaged in textile production, metalwork, banking, and international trade. Some worked as artisans, others as merchants or translators. Jewish communities had their own internal leadership, regulated communal taxes, and provided education for their children. The Ottomans even allowed Jewish communities to publish books and newspapers in Ladino (Judeo-Spanish) and Hebrew.

While not equal in status to Muslims under Islamic law, Jews in the Ottoman realm lived with a remarkable level of peace, stability, and cultural autonomy — especially compared to the ghettos and forced conversions of Europe.

Jews in the Modern Middle East: Echoes of Coexistence

Before the colonial fragmentation and the wars of the mid-20th century, the Middle East was home to vibrant Jewish communities that had existed for centuries — in Iran, Iraq, Egypt, Yemen, Syria, Morocco, and Tunisia. These communities spoke Arabic, Persian, Kurdish, and Berber; they ate the same food, wore the same clothes, and celebrated festivals alongside their Muslim neighbors.

Iran: Jews as Protected Citizens

Iran is still home to the largest Jewish population in the Middle East outside of Israel, numbering between 8,000 to 15,000 today. Before the 1979 revolution, the community was even larger and more visible. Despite political tensions between Iran and Israel, Iranian Jews are allowed to worship freely, run their own schools, and elect a representative to parliament.

Jewish shops in Tehran and Shiraz are part of the urban landscape. Synagogues are open. Hebrew is taught. While there are limitations, particularly due to the strained international context, Iranian Jews have not been forced to hide their identity. They are not Zionists — they are Iranian Jews, and they are recognized as such.

Notably, Dr. Siamak Moreh Sedgh, an Iranian Jew, serves as a member of the Iranian Parliament, representing the Jewish community. Before him, Maurice Motamed, another Jewish Iranian MP, held the same post and publicly defended the rights of Jews within the Islamic Republic. They’ve participated in national debate, visited Holocaust memorials abroad, and criticized Israel’s policies — all while being treated as legitimate voices within Iran’s political system.

Morocco: A Jewish-Muslim Cultural Memory

In Morocco, Jews lived peacefully for centuries under Muslim rule. At their peak, they made up over 10% of the population. Moroccan Jews were artisans, musicians, traders, scholars — fully integrated into society. They had their own quarters (mellahs) not as ghettos, but as protected districts within the city, often adjacent to royal palaces for added security.

Even after large emigration waves post-1948, King Mohammed V refused to hand Moroccan Jews over to the Nazis during World War II, famously declaring:

“There are no Jews in Morocco. There are only subjects.”

Today, Morocco has preserved its Jewish cemeteries, restored synagogues, and teaches Jewish history in schools — a rare gesture of reconciliation and remembrance.

Morocco has also appointed Jews to senior advisory roles. One prominent figure is André Azoulay, a Jewish Moroccan who served as senior adviser to two Moroccan kings: King Hassan II and King Mohammed VI. Azoulay has long been a symbol of Moroccan pluralism, promoting interfaith dialogue, supporting Palestinian rights, and preserving Jewish heritage.

Iraq: A Broken Legacy, But Once a Jewel

Before the American invasion and decades of instability, Baghdad was once a center of Jewish life in the Arab world. Jews in Iraq were so central to the country’s economy, education, and government that by the early 20th century, a third of Baghdad’s population was Jewish.

They ran hospitals, schools, and newspapers. Jewish writers, poets, and judges shaped Iraq’s cultural identity. The community lived in harmony with its Muslim neighbors for centuries.

Notably, Sassoon Eskell, an Iraqi Jew, served as the first Finance Minister of modern Iraq in the early 20th century and was a founding figure of the Iraqi state. He was known as “The Father of Parliament” and drafted much of the country’s legal and fiscal framework under King Faisal I. Faisal is famously quoted as saying:

“Sassoon Eskell is worth his weight in gold for Iraq.”

Sadly, political shifts, war, and external pressure led to the community’s exodus — but the memory of that coexistence still lives in the oral histories of both Jews and Muslims from Iraq.

________________________________________

This inclusion demonstrates that even in the modern era, Jews held positions of authority, influence, and respect within Muslim-majority states — not in spite of Islam, but within its broader civilizational ethic of coexistence.

What About the Future?

Learning from the Past

What have we seen so far?

We have revisited a long chapter of human history that tells a different story from today’s headlines — one in which Jews and Muslims lived together in peace, dignity, and cooperation. From the Prophet Muhammad’s ï·º Covenant of Madinah, to Ê¿Umar ibn al-Khattab’s restoration of Jewish presence in Jerusalem, to the flourishing of Jewish life in Al-Andalus and the Ottoman Empire, the pattern is unmistakable:

When Muslims live by the Qur’an, Jews live in security.

Whether in the courts of Cordoba or the parliaments of Iran and Morocco, Jews not only practiced their religion freely but participated in governance, law, trade, science, and cultural life — often with honor and influence.

Yes, there were exceptions — moments when Muslim rulers betrayed their own teachings and harmed the communities under their care. But these were deviations, not the default. The overall arc of history is clear.

________________________________________

If History Is a Guide…

Then Jewish welfare has consistently been strongest when Muslims are united, confident, and guided by the Qur’an.

It was not when Muslims were vengeful or militaristic, but when they were just, principled, and self-possessed — acting on the Qur’an, the Prophet’s ï·º example, and the path of the rightly guided Caliphs — that Jewish communities prospered.

And so we ask: what about the future?

As we look ahead, I hold this conviction firmly:

Even after decades of Zionist cruelty and occupation, Muslims will return to the Qur’an.

We are not allowed to act out of vengeance. To do so would be to make the wrongful Zionists our teachers, and Benjamin Netanyahu our role model.

But our role models are not found in Tel Aviv or in retaliatory hatred.

Our teachers are the Prophet Muhammad ï·º, Abu Bakr, Umar, Uthman, and Ali. Our compass is the Qur’an.

We must not let injustice make us unjust. And we must not answer cruelty with cruelty — for that would only deepen the wounds of history and betray the very ethics we claim to uphold.

________________________________________

A Call to Righteous Partnership

To our Jewish brothers and sisters who oppose the Zionist regime and its inhumanity:

Re-connect. Re-build. Re-join hands with Muslims and with all communities of conscience — those who are just, trustworthy, and morally grounded.

The current madness of Zionism is not just short-sighted, it is self-destructive. History shows that when empires and ideologies rise on injustice, they do not last. But their collapse often drags down the innocent with the guilty.

The more Zionists act with brutality, the more they risk repeating a pattern where the world turns not just against injustice, but against the entire Jewish people — a tragedy that has played out too many times in history.

True allies of the Jewish people today must reject Zionist extremism, and work for a future rooted in justice, coexistence, and humility.

________________________________________

The Qur’an Has the Final Word

"O you who have believed, be persistently standing firm for Allah, witnesses in justice, and do not let the hatred of a people prevent you from being just. Be just: that is nearer to righteousness."

(Qur’an 5:8)

"Indeed, this Qur’an guides to that which is most upright and gives good news to the believers who do righteous deeds that they will have a great reward."

(Qur’an 17:9)

"And cooperate in righteousness and piety, but do not cooperate in sin and aggression. And fear Allah; indeed, Allah is severe in penalty."

(Qur’an 5:2)

"Good and evil are not equal. Repel evil with what is better; then the one you were in conflict with may become as close as a devoted friend."

(Qur’an 41:34)

________________________________________

Islam has been — and still can be — the best friend Judaism ever had.

The question is whether the Jewish people will have the wisdom to build better relationships with Muslims — and whether we, the Muslims, will have the courage and discipline to return to what our faith actually teaches us: to unite, be strong, and be successful, and to use the power we have not for dominance or revenge, but to manage justice in the world.

Peace, 

Anas Zubedy

Penang