Lessons from Muhammad (PBUH) for Our Fractured World
Commemorating the 1500th Anniversary of the Birth of Muḥammad the Prophet of Islam
Introduction: The Modern World's Fever and an Unlikely Physician
Our world today is feverish. This is not a metaphor; its symptoms are visibly manifest in statistics and charts, in economic and social reports. We are consumed by division, inequality, discrimination, unending conflicts, and environmental crises. These are not separate afflictions but are, collectively, the varied expressions of a single malady: social disintegration, the erosion of shared values, and a crisis of confidence in leadership.
The question then arises: can a remedy be found for this condition? A remedy that lies not in the contemporary corridors of power, but in a distant and seemingly obscure past? It is found in the life of a seventh-century man, a merchant from the Arabian desert, who is often misunderstood in the West and reduced to a simplistic caricature.
This article presents Muhammad (PBUH) not as an inaccessible saint, but as a social architect who confronted a society more chaotic and brutal than our own. He grappled with analogous crises, albeit on a more ruthless scale. His life can be interpreted as a case study in social healing. The framework he advanced was built upon several foundational principles: a universal compassion that transcended boundaries, a society based on civic solidarity, the redefinition of power from domination to service, and a revolution in upholding human dignity.
Part One: Seventh-Century Arabia as a Mirror for Our Time
To comprehend the magnitude of the revolution initiated by Muhammad ibn Abdullah (PBUH), one must first enter his world—not a setting veiled in the dust of history, but a living tableau of humanity's darkest instincts: a fragmented, violent society on the verge of collapse.
The Arabian Peninsula of that era was a land without a central state, a place where the concept of government was meaningless. Each tribe functioned as an isolated entity, ensnared in an endless cycle of warfare and blood feuds. The only prevailing law was that of force, and the sole arbiter was the tribal chieftain. Justice was administered privately, and vengeance was lauded as a sacred virtue.
The social structure reflected this same violence. At the apex of the hierarchy, the wealthy usurers of Mecca exploited the poor with exorbitant interest rates, driving them into economic bondage. At the lowest stratum, slaves were bought and sold as commodities; they were often captives of war or victims of kidnapping, their lives subject to the whims of merciless masters. Women were also largely absent from this equation: denied inheritance, possessing no right to choose a spouse, and at times treated as chattel to be passed on to heirs upon a man's death. The most heinous manifestation of this barbarism was the practice of female infanticide, a horrific ritual rooted in either poverty or the fear of dishonor.
At the heart of this world, the driving force was ʿaṣabiyyah: a blind loyalty to kinship and tribe. ʿAṣabiyyah served as the only refuge in a stateless society, but its price was the sacrifice of morality for the sake of group interests. Justice was reserved for one's own, while vengeance was directed at others.
Although this ancient concept may initially seem remote, its structure is strangely familiar. ʿAṣabiyyah was an identity-forming system that subordinated truth to belonging. Its logic was simple and ruthless: a zero-sum game where one party's gain necessitated another's loss. A society so constituted becomes locked in a self-destructive cycle.
The world of Muhammad (PBUH) is not distant from our own; it is a more violent and primordial version of the same fractures we experience today. It is precisely this proximity that makes his solutions immediately relevant to us.
Part Two: A Healing Prescription for a Disintegrated Society
Muhammad (PBUH) emerged from within a broken and fragmented world, a man whose mission was not merely to present a new creed, but to fundamentally reconstitute human society. To understand his prescription, we must first examine the "alchemy of mercy"—a central element he introduced into the heart of his violent and blood-soaked world.
A. The Alchemy of Mercy
To grasp the essence of mercy in the life of Muhammad (PBUH), one must turn to one of the darkest moments of his mission. Following the deaths of his devoted wife Khadījah and his protective uncle Abū Ṭālib, his pillars of support collapsed, leaving him vulnerable and isolated against his Meccan adversaries. In search of a new sanctuary, he traveled to Ṭāʾif, a wealthy and formidable city at the foot of a mountain. What he encountered, however, was not support but humiliation and violence. The chieftains of Ṭāʾif mocked him and incited the populace to stone him. Such a volley of stones was unleashed upon him that his sandals were soaked with his own blood.
Wounded and exhausted, he took refuge in a garden on the city's outskirts. In such a state, it would have been natural for any person to implore the heavens for retribution. The words he spoke, however, provide a transparent view into his innermost disposition. Instead of curses, he engaged in a private supplication to God and, acknowledging his own weakness, concluded his prayer with these words:
«إِنْ لَمْ يَكُنْ بِكَ عَلَيَّ غَضَبٌ فَلَا أُبَالِي»
"If You hold no anger toward me, then I care for nothing else." (Ibn Hishām, Al-Sīrah al-Nabawiyyah, vol. 1, p. 420)
This statement was a sign of a fortitude exceeding ordinary human capacity. He viewed his personal suffering as insignificant in light of his greater mission. Yet for him, mercy was not simply a spiritual disposition; it was a foundational strategy for the society he was to build.
Years later, when the victorious Muslims entered Mecca, those same inveterate enemies—the Quraysh aristocracy who had repeatedly plotted his destruction and waged wars against his community—were now defenseless before him. Many of his companions assumed that the moment for retribution had come; within the logic of that era, it was the most natural response. Muhammad (PBUH), however, once again chose a different path: forgiveness.
It was not merely forgiveness, but a remarkable initiative. He declared the home of Abū Sufyān—his most tenacious enemy and the leader of the Meccan polytheists—a sanctuary, proclaiming, "Whoever takes refuge in this house is safe." In an instant, the home of his greatest adversary was transformed into a symbol of security.
For Muhammad (PBUH), mercy was not an individual virtue; it was an instrument to break the cycle of vengeance, a cycle which, within tribal logic, intensified the thirst for blood with every new wound. By renouncing retaliatory violence, he introduced a new paradigm into history: power achieved not through retribution, but through magnanimity. He demonstrated that mercy can be a tool that disarms an adversary not by inflicting physical harm, but by dissolving the animosity within their own heart.
This choice stood in stark contrast to the logic of escalating violence that has defined so much of human history and continues to plague our world. Muhammad (PBUH) introduced a new model: true greatness is defined not by the capacity for revenge, but by the courage to forgive.
B. The Struggle Against Discrimination
No account better illustrates the depth of Muhammad’s (PBUH) struggle against discrimination than the story of Bilāl ibn Rabāḥ, a Black slave of Abyssinian origin. For the sole 'crime' of professing the new faith, Bilāl was subjected to savage torture by his Meccan master; he was dragged across the scorching sand as a massive boulder was placed upon his chest. Though his suffering was immense, his faith remained unshaken. Eventually, the Prophet’s companions secured his freedom by purchasing his emancipation.
Recognizing Bilāl’s deep and resonant voice, Muhammad (PBUH) appointed him to an unprecedented position: the first muezzin of Islam, the one who calls the community to unity and worship five times each day.
The climax of this human drama occurred on the day of the conquest of Mecca. Muhammad (PBUH) entered victoriously into the city that had once expelled him. The gazes of the proud Quraysh aristocracy were fixed upon him, and the Kaʿbah—the symbolic center of power and the locus of tribal idol worship—stood before him. In that moment, rather than assuming the role of a mere conqueror, he summoned Bilāl and instructed him to ascend to the roof of the Kaʿbah to proclaim the call to prayer (adhān). The most sacred site in Arabia, the very heart of tribal identity, now served as a platform for the voice of equality.
Imagine: a Black former slave, standing atop the symbol of Arab aristocracy, proclaiming with his powerful voice the equality of all human beings before God. This moment was a human statement more potent than any political sermon; it was a public spectacle demonstrating the collapse of racial hierarchies and a definitive expression of the Prophet’s principles. Before equality was codified into law, Muhammad (PBUH) etched it into the collective memory of the people.
These principles were later articulated explicitly in the sermon of the Farewell Pilgrimage, the Prophet's final public address, which served as a charter for the new Islamic society. Before an audience of tens of thousands, he demolished the foundations of racial supremacism:
«يَا أَيُّهَا النَّاسُ... أَلَا لَا فَضْلَ لِعَرَبِيٍّ عَلَى عَجَمِيٍّ... إِلَّا بِالتَّقْوَى»
"O people!… Know that no Arab has superiority over a non-Arab… except by piety." (Ibn Ḥanbal, Musnad, vol. 38, p. 474, ḥadīth 23489)
With this sermon, the standard of worth based on "race and blood" was replaced by the revolutionary criterion of "character and conduct"—a message that founded a new society and permanently illuminated the path of equality.
C. A Blueprint for Coexistence
In the theological vision of Muhammad (PBUH), the history of prophets constituted a single, continuous chain, not a collection of separate and competing religions. He did not see himself as the founder of a new faith but as the restorer of the primordial monotheistic message that began with Abraham, was codified into law through Moses, and reached a spiritual zenith in the persons of Jesus and his mother, Mary. The Qur’an is replete with verses of reverence for Moses, Jesus, and Mary—a reverence that was not a mere diplomatic gesture but a cornerstone of Muhammad’s worldview and social project.
When Muhammad (PBUH) arrived in Yathrib (Medina) in 622 CE, he did not enter a homogenous or peaceful city. He entered a powder keg: a volatile mix of warring Arab tribes (the Aws and Khazraj), who had been locked in a decades-long blood feud, and several affluent Jewish tribes living alongside them. He had been invited as an impartial arbitrator to end the endemic chaos.
His solution, however, was more than a temporary truce. He established a document that can be considered one of the most advanced social contracts of the ancient world: the Covenant of Medina. This contract was a masterpiece of statecraft. Modern scholars regard it as an early framework for a multicultural society because it established unity without imposing uniformity. All groups—the emigrant Muslims, the Medinan Muslims, and the Jewish tribes—were defined under the comprehensive concept of a single community (ummah). Concurrently, freedom of religion was guaranteed:
«لِلْيَهُودِ دِينُهُمْ وَلِلْمُسْلِمِينَ دِينُهُمْ»
"To the Jews their religion, and to the Muslims their religion." (Ibn Hishām, Al-Sīrah al-Nabawiyyah, vol. 1, p. 504)
The Covenant was also a mutual defense pact: an attack against any signatory was deemed an attack against all. This was not an act of idealism but of supreme political pragmatism. As his followers were a minority, Muhammad (PBUH) could not have unified the city by force. By offering security and autonomy to all parties, he transformed potential rivals into stakeholders in a shared enterprise.
Another example of this approach was evident during his encounter with a sixty-member Christian delegation from Najrān. After a substantive debate, when the delegates prepared to worship, Muhammad (PBUH) invited them to conduct their service inside his mosque. This image—of Christians at prayer in the heart of a Muslim liturgical space—was a powerful symbol of his vision. The visit concluded with a peace treaty that guaranteed the security and religious freedom of their community.
The most striking element, however, was when Muhammad (PBUH) positioned himself as the personal guarantor and defender of the rights of every Christian and Jew, warning Muslims in the strongest terms:
«ألا مَن ظلمَ مُعاهدًا، أوِ انتقصَهُ، أو كلَّفَهُ فوقَ طاقتِهِ، أو أخذَ منهُ شيئًا بغَيرِ طيبِ نفسٍ، فأَنا حَجيجُهُ يومَ القيامةِ»
"Beware! Whoever wrongs a non-Muslim under covenant, infringes on their rights, burdens them beyond their capacity, or takes anything from them without their willing consent, I myself will be their plaintiff on the Day of Judgment." (Abī Dāwūd, Ṣaḥīḥ, 3052)
Imagine: the founder of a civilization stakes his own eschatological standing on the just treatment of minorities. This was no longer mere civil law; it was a divine pact that integrated the protection of others into the very fabric of Muslim faith.
These documents demonstrate that the society Muhammad (PBUH) envisioned was not a homogenous ideological enclave, but a vibrant composition of diverse communities bound by the principles of justice and human dignity. He taught that true strength is found not in the elimination of the "other," but in guaranteeing their security and flourishing.
D. Redefining Gender and the Family
To comprehend the depth of Muhammad’s (PBUH) revolution within the institution of the family, one must begin where he did: in a context where women were little more than the chattel of men, and infant daughters were sometimes buried alive before they had a chance to live.
Muhammad’s (PBUH) personal life was itself a polemic against this established order. The starting point of this transformation was his marriage to a woman who bore no resemblance to the stereotypical image of the submissive wife. Khadījah was a magnate and an influential lady of Mecca, whose trade caravans traversed the routes to Syria and Yemen; she was known by the people as Amīrat Quraysh (the Princess of Quraysh). It was she who recognized the talent and integrity of a young Muhammad, placed her trust in him, and, in defiance of the era's customs, proposed marriage to him.
Their marriage was not merely a romantic union; it was a partnership founded on trust, respect, and mutual support. They remained together for twenty-five years. Khadījah was the first to believe in his prophetic mission and became the primary financial backer of the movement that would later change history.
This revolution was not confined to the symbolic level; it was manifest in daily life. Narrations indicate that Muhammad (PBUH) conducted himself as a partner at home, not as a man expecting unquestioning service. His wife would later testify:
«كَانَ يَكُونُ فِي مِهْنَةِ أَهْلِهِ»
"He was always occupied in the service of his family." (al-Bukhārī, Ṣaḥīḥ, 676)
What did "service" mean in Muhammad’s lexicon? Accounts relate that he would mend his own sandals, patch his own garments, and milk the household goats. (al-Majlisī, Biḥār al-Anwār, vol. 16, p. 228). These actions were not born of necessity but were a conscious choice—a redefinition of masculinity as something found in humility and partnership, not in command and domination.
This redefinition reached its apex in his relationship with his daughter, Fāṭimah. In a culture that considered the birth of a daughter a source of shame, Muhammad (PBUH) was a father who shattered this taboo before the eyes of all. It is narrated:
«إِذَا دَخَلَتْ عَلَيْهِ قَامَ إِلَيْهَا فَأَخَذَ بِيَدِهَا وَقَبَّلَهَا وَأَجْلَسَهَا فِي مَجْلِسِهِ»
"Whenever Fāṭimah entered, he would stand to greet her, take her by the hand, kiss her, and seat her in his own place." (Abū Dāwūd, Sunan, 5217; al-Majlisī, Biḥār al-Anwār, vol. 43, p. 40)
This simple image—a man of immense authority rising for his daughter—was a subversive act in its social context. Muhammad (PBUH) was not merely legislating respect for women; he was living it daily, elevating this practice to an eternal principle with a simple statement:
«خَيْرُكُمْ خَيْرُكُمْ لِأَهْلِهِ وَأَنَا خَيْرُكُمْ لِأَهْلِي»
"The best of you is the one who is best to his family, and I am the best of you to my family." (al-ʿĀmilī, Wasāʾil al-Shīʿah, vol. 20, p. 171, ḥadīth 25339)
His message was clear: if societal change is to occur, it must begin in the home. The family is the most private and change-resistant domain of society; if the revolution fails there, it stands no chance in the public sphere. For this reason, Muhammad’s (PBUH) domestic life was a pedagogical stage: his marriage to an empowered woman, his participation in household chores, and his public deference to his daughter. In his world, the Prophet’s home was not a private sanctuary but a public space, and he consciously used this space to demonstrate that culture cannot be altered by law alone; it must be lived and performed. The revolution against patriarchy began within the four walls of his house long before it was seen in the streets.
E. The Power of Possessing Nothing
In the final years of his life, Muhammad (PBUH) held authority over most of the Arabian Peninsula. The spoils of war and the wealth of tribes flowed into Medina. Yet, anyone who arrived with visions of opulent palaces and a lavish court was met with a startling reality: the home of the "ruler of Arabia" consisted of a few mud-brick huts with roofs of palm fronds.
His private life was the embodiment of a deliberate and disciplined asceticism. His bed was a leather mat filled with palm fibers. It was common for days to pass without a fire being lit in his home for cooking. Whatever wealth came into his possession was distributed among the poor before it could accumulate.
The most poignant image, however, is from the final moments of his life. Muhammad (PBUH), the man whose authority had extended across the peninsula, possessed no money to leave to his family at the time of his death. His coat of mail was mortgaged to a Jewish man in Medina in exchange for a few measures of barley for his family's daily bread.
«تُوُفِّيَ رَسُولُ اللَّهِ صلى الله عليه وسلم وَدِرْعُهُ مَرْهُونَةٌ عِنْدَ يَهُودِيٍّ»
"The Messenger of God (PBUH) passed away while his shield was mortgaged to a Jew." (al-Bukhārī, Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī, 2916; al-Shaykh al-Ṣadūq, Man Lā Yaḥḍuruhu al-Faqīh, vol. 3, p. 187, ḥadīth 3702)
This was not poverty; it was a choice. In a culture where ostentation and luxury were the metrics of power, he intentionally subverted these norms. By renouncing palaces and adornments, he redefined leadership as a station built not on spectacle but on moral authority and service. This profound simplicity made him the most accessible of leaders to the poorest of his people. It also disarmed his critics of their final argument: how could he be accused of personal profiteering when, even at the moment of death, he had kept nothing for himself?
Part Three: Architecting a New Consciousness
The revolution of Muhammad (PBUH) was not merely a political or social transformation; at its deepest level, it was a revolution in human consciousness. He sought to cultivate a new type of human being: one who thinks with a liberated intellect, who believes in the inherent dignity of themselves and of others, who finds value in labor and exertion, and who views their role on this planet not as an owner, but as a steward and trustee.
A: The Commandment to Seek Knowledge
Muhammad (PBUH) addressed a people who derived truth solely from the pronouncements of their tribal chieftain, within the confines of their own clan. He was the first to summon them to venture beyond these narrow frontiers:
«اطْلُبُوا الْعِلْمَ وَلَوْ بِالصِّينِ»
"Seek knowledge, even if it be in China." (al-Majlisī, Biḥār al-Anwār, vol. 1, p. 177, ḥadīth 47)
For a seventh-century Arab, "China" represented the furthest reaches of the known world—a legendary land with a foreign tongue, unfamiliar customs, and situated beyond the sphere of the Abrahamic religions. This summons was a radical declaration: knowledge is a universal human heritage, and one must strive to acquire it wherever it is found.
His message did not end there. Muhammad (PBUH) framed this borderless quest not as a moral recommendation but as a religious obligation incumbent upon all, without exception:
«طَلَبُ الْعِلْمِ فَرِيضَةٌ عَلَى كُلِّ مُسْلِمٍ وَمُسْلِمَةٍ»
"Seeking knowledge is an obligation upon every Muslim man and Muslim woman." (al-Kulaynī, al-Kāfī, vol. 1, p. 30)
In a society where women's voices were suppressed and their status was intermediate between property and inheritance, placing the "Muslim woman" on equal footing with the "Muslim man" in the pursuit of knowledge was a revolutionary act. He thereby transgressed the most significant boundary of the patriarchal culture of his time. It was the first instance where faith and reason, man and woman, were conjoined in a single imperative.
Following the Battle of Badr, any literate captive could earn their freedom by teaching ten Muslim children to read and write. He transformed a potential threat from an enemy into human capital for the foundation of a literate civilization. This conversion of threat into opportunity was the hallmark of a brilliant social architect.
B: The Inherent Dignity of the Human Being
In the stark, tribal landscape of seventh-century Arabia, where an individual's worth was measured not by their humanity but by their lineage and blood, Muhammad (PBUH) was establishing a new principle: the unconditional dignity of every human being.
This idea was not articulated in a philosophical treatise; it was brought to life in a simple scene on the dusty lanes of Medina. History records the image: Muhammad (PBUH) was seated with his companions when a Jewish funeral procession passed by. He, the Prophet and leader of a fledgling community, rose to his feet in a gesture of respect. His companions found the act strange. One of them whispered, with hesitation and perhaps a hint of reproof, "It is the funeral of a Jew."
Muhammad’s (PBUH) response was as brief as it was profound:
«أَلَيْسَتْ نَفْسًا؟»
"Is it not a human soul?" (al-Bukhārī, Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī, ḥadīth 1312)
This was more than a question; it was a statement that dissolved boundaries. His respect for the deceased was not an act of deference to another religion, but an act of reverence for humanity itself.
This worldview is further clarified in his other statements:
«مَا شَيْءٌ أَكْرَمُ عَلَى اللَّهِ مِنْ ابْنِ آدَمَ»
"In the sight of God, nothing is more honored than the child of Adam." (al-Ṭabarānī, al-Muʿjam al-Awsaṭ, vol. 6, p. 160, ḥadīth 6072)
For a society that appraised individuals by their tribe and ancestry, such a declaration was subversive. This became the foundational principle upon which Muhammad (PBUH) constructed a new civilization—one that regarded dignity not as an accident of birth but as the divinely endowed right of every person.
C: Encouraging Labor and Productivity
In a society that subsisted on raiding and the spoils of war, Muhammad (PBUH) was not only a spiritual guide but also the architect of a dynamic economy—one where effort, work, and creativity were central pillars of the social order. He demonstrated that a person's true worth lies in their exertion and contributions, not merely in their bloodline.
One day, while greeting a crowd, he noticed a man from the Anṣār whose hands were calloused and rough from hard labor to provide for his family. Muhammad (PBUH) paused, bent down, took the man's hands into his own, and kissed them. Then, in a tone both sacred and deeply human, he said:
«هَذِهِ یَدٌ لا تَمَسُّهَا النَّارُ»
"This is a hand that the Fire [of Hell] will not touch." (Ibn al-Athīr, Usd al-Ghābah, vol. 2, p. 269)
This moment was a lesson in both ethics and sociology. The Prophet taught that labor is a form of worship and that the struggle to provide for oneself and others embodies the highest form of dignity. Through his actions, he showed that a successful society is one where every individual, through their own talent and effort, has a stake in the collective productivity and prosperity.
D: Muhammad and Environmental Stewardship
In the worldview of Muhammad (PBUH), the human being is not the owner of the earth, but God's khalīfah—a steward and trustee—whose function is to cultivate the world, not to destroy it. This perspective constitutes a form of monotheistic ecology in which the preservation of nature is itself an act of worship.
This sacred responsibility was crystallized in his practical injunctions. His most renowned directive is a call to maintain hope and continue constructive action until the very end, an act whose value resides not in its immediate outcome but in the responsible conduct itself:
«إِنْ قَامَتِ السَّاعَةُ وَ فِی یَدِ أَحَدِکُمْ فَسِیلَةٌ... فَلْیَغْرِسْهَا»
"If the Final Hour arrives while one of you is holding a sapling… he should plant it." (al-Nūrī, Mustadrak al-Wasāʾil, vol. 13, p. 460, ḥadīth 15896)
This outlook was coupled with an astute legal-economic principle that linked land ownership not to power, but to labor and reclamation. Whoever revived unowned, barren land was considered its rightful owner:
«مَنْ أَحْیَا أَرْضًا مَیِّتَةً فَهِیَ لَهُ»
"Whoever brings dead land back to life, it belongs to him." (al-Kulaynī, al-Kāfī, vol. 5, p. 279, ḥadīth 1)
This sphere of mercy extended to all creatures. By relating the story of a man who received forgiveness solely for quenching the thirst of a dog—«فَشَكَرَ اللَّهُ لَهُ فَغَفَرَ لَهُ» ("So God appreciated his deed and forgave him")—he demonstrated that the smallest act of compassion within this interconnected web of life has eternal resonance. (al-Bukhārī, Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī, ḥadīth 6009)
These principles form a comprehensive blueprint for a meaningful life and a just society—a framework that remains a source of inspiration and guidance for modern humanity as it confronts its own environmental and spiritual crises.
E: Humanizing the Inhuman: The Rules of Engagement
In the seventh century, warfare was not merely a military engagement; it was an arena of absolute violence where the lives of civilians, prisoners, and even the bodies of the dead held no intrinsic value or sanctity. Within this context, Muhammad (PBUH) established a set of ethical and legal principles that were not only revolutionary for their time but also anticipated the foundations of modern human rights and international humanitarian law. He did not glorify war; rather, he sought to preserve morality amidst the most brutal manifestations of human nature.
In a land where war had devolved into a gruesome sport and violence had become habit, the Prophet introduced a radical military doctrine. This doctrine endeavored to impart the most humane character possible to an inherently brutal enterprise. Its most fundamental principle was the distinction between combatants and non-combatants:
«... وَلاَ تَقْتُلُوا شَيْخًا فَانِيًا وَلاَ طِفْلاً وَلاَ صَغِيرًا وَلاَ امْرَأَةً»
"...Do not kill a decrepit old man, nor an infant, nor a young child, nor a woman." (Abū Dāwūd, Sunan, ḥadīth 2614)
This was not a mere ethical recommendation but a binding order, codified centuries before the Geneva Conventions, which established that respect for life, even in the midst of war, is an obligation.
His protection of human dignity extended beyond death. At a time when the mutilation of fallen enemies was a common practice, Muhammad (PBUH) strictly forbade it, demonstrating that human dignity is inviolable even in death. This was not only an ethical imperative but also a strategic one, as it broke the cycle of endless violence and retribution.
His treatment of prisoners of war was the pinnacle of this humane ethos. In an age when captives were typically condemned to slavery or execution, he commanded:
«اِسْتَوْصُوا بِالأُسَارَى خَيْرًا»
"I enjoin you to treat the prisoners of war well." (al-Ṭabarānī, al-Muʿjam al-Kabīr, ḥadīth 18443)
Abū ʿAzīz ibn ʿUmayr, a Meccan aristocrat captured at the Battle of Badr, later recounted how his Muslim captors gave him their limited supply of bread while they subsisted on dates.
Muhammad (PBUH) understood that the ultimate objective of war is a sustainable peace, and peace cannot flourish on scorched earth. He therefore forbade the destruction of an enemy's infrastructure and vital resources:
«...وَلاَ تَقْطَعَنَّ شَجَرَةً مُثْمِرَةً...»
"...And you shall not cut down any fruit-bearing tree..." (al-Kulaynī, al-Kāfī, vol. 5, p. 29, ḥadīth 6)
This collection of principles constituted a profoundly ethical and humane military doctrine—a doctrine of power rooted not in barbarism but in responsibility and the preservation of justice and dignity, even in the darkest hours of war and chaos.
F: Muhammad’s War on Poverty
In the worldview of Muhammad (PBUH), poverty was not an unavoidable tragedy but an injustice to be eradicated. His approach was not a system based on sporadic charity but a radical re-engineering of the concepts of "worship" and "value." He designed a theo-economic framework in which the highest spiritual capital is acquired through service to the most vulnerable strata of society.
In a community where the orphan was the most defenseless member, Muhammad (PBUH) assigned a reward for their care that surpassed all worldly wealth: personal proximity to himself in Paradise. He illustrated this promise with a powerful and unforgettable physical gesture, holding his index and middle fingers together as he said:
«أَنَا وَكَافِلُ الْيَتِيمِ فِي الْجَنَّةِ هَكَذَا»
"I and the guardian of an orphan will be like this in Paradise." (al-Bukhārī, Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī, ḥadīth 6005)
Perhaps none of his teachings were as revolutionary as his redefinition of spiritual priorities. He explicitly subordinated individual acts of devotion to the service of humanity. He presented a comparison that reveals the core of his vision:
«لَأَنْ أَمْشِيَ مَعَ أَخٍ لِي فِي حَاجَةٍ حَتَّى أَقْضِيَهَا لَهُ أَحَبُّ إِلَيَّ مِنْ أَنْ أَعْتَكِفَ فِي مَسْجِدِي هَذَا شَهْراً»
"To walk with a brother to fulfill his need is more beloved to me than to perform iʿtikāf (spiritual seclusion) in this mosque of mine for a month." (al-Ṭabarānī, al-Muʿjam al-Awsaṭ, vol. 6, p. 292, ḥadīth 6441)
To grasp the profundity of this statement, one must appreciate the sanctity of the Prophet’s Mosque in Medina and the spiritual value of iʿtikāf. A month-long retreat in what was then the most sacred mosque was among the highest forms of individual worship. Yet, Muhammad (PBUH) declared that a simple act of social service—attending to the needs of another person—is more valuable in the sight of God. This was a complete reorientation of the meaning of piety. He taught his followers that God is to be found not in the seclusion of a hermitage, but in the bustle of the marketplace, in the homes of the poor, and in the struggle to establish justice.
In his system, social welfare is not an option; it is the very essence of faith.
Conclusion: An Enduring Remedy for an Age of Discontent
For a final measure of the resilience of Muhammad (PBUH) and his community, one must return to the three-year social and economic boycott imposed upon his clan, the Banū Hāshim. They were exiled to an arid valley, cut off from food and commerce. The cries of their starving children could be heard in Mecca. This period of extreme hardship stands as the ultimate testament to his and his community’s steadfastness and unwavering hope in the face of despair.
This story, and all those that precede it, reveal a figure of global historical importance. The life of Muhammad (PBUH) offers a compelling and coherent model of how a single individual, armed with profound conviction and a revolutionary vision for human dignity, can reforge a world.
His response to the ʿaṣabiyyah of his era speaks directly to our own, embroiled as it is in political polarization and identity politics. Against our political tribalism, he offers a blueprint for a civil community (ummah) founded on a shared social contract rather than on exclusive identities.
Against our endless cycles of violence and retribution, he deploys the paradigm of radical mercy as a strategy to shatter them.
Against our staggering economic inequalities and crisis of confidence in leadership, his ethic of simplicity provides an antidote to materialism and a model of power derived from service, not accumulation.
Against enduring racist and patriarchal structures, his elevation of the marginalized stands as a direct challenge.
Muhammad (PBUH) is not a figure confined to the seventh century. He is a voice whose answers to the timeless questions of justice, meaning, and community resonate with astonishing clarity in our own turbulent era. His life is a healing prescription—not a call to religious conversion, but an invitation to rethink the possibility of building a more just and humane world. He is a powerful reminder that the greatest revolutions often begin in the most unlikely of places.
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Mohammad Sahhaf Kashani
[sahafkashani@isca.ac.ir, Assistant Professor, Islamic Sciences and Culture Academy.]