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Think, Mankind

From the garden, I reflect on the place of humanity — our struggles, hopes, and responsibilities. Just as every plant has a purpose, so too does mankind in the greater design of life.

  • Writer: Nora Amati
    Nora Amati
  • Feb 16
  • 4 min read

Let us imagine a modern Western prison: sterile corridors, cramped cells, clocks marking repetitive days that often seem devoid of meaning. It is within this seemingly hopeless environment that a surprising and little-known phenomenon takes place: each year, tens of thousands of inmates choose to embrace Islam. These individuals—often from fragile social backgrounds, with histories of marginalization and prior criminal involvement—find in faith a pathway toward discipline, community, and moral renewal.

Conversions to Islam in prison are not merely religious episodes; they represent a transformation of identity that affects the psychological, social, and moral spheres of the individual. Recent studies demonstrate that the majority of Muslim inmates were not born into the faith but discovered in Islam a response to deep needs for meaning and belonging (Wilkinson et al., 2021; Ammar et al., 2004). Religious practice—through daily prayers, fasting, and collective rituals—offers a structure that can positively influence behavior and psychosocial adjustment among prisoners.

However, this phenomenon is not without complexity and debate. While most conversions appear to promote rehabilitation and moral resilience, some cases have raised concerns regarding the potential diffusion of extremist interpretations (Hamm, 2009). Understanding prison Islam therefore requires exploring a terrain where faith, identity, and penal institutions interact in profound and often unexpected ways.


Conversion to Islam as “Intense Religious Change”

According to Wilkinson et al. (2021), conversion to Islam in European prisons—analyzed in a comparative study conducted across ten correctional institutions in England, Switzerland, and France—can be conceptualized as a form of “intense religious change,” typically involving processes of “switching,” “intensifying,” or “shifting” religious identity. The research, based on mixed methods (surveys, qualitative interviews, and observations), shows that Muslim converts in prison often:

  • adopt Islam for the first time while incarcerated (switchers);

  • intensify their religious commitment and practice (intensifiers);

  • reformulate their relationship with Islam during detention (shifters).

This typology distinguishes between individuals who develop a new religious identity and those who deepen a prior faith or reshape their broader worldview.

The study further indicates that motivations for conversion include the search for personal meaning, emotional regulation, moral atonement, and social integration, rather than merely instrumental advantages related to prison life.


Empirical Evidence: Case Studies and Quantitative Findings

One of the few systematic investigations in the United States, conducted by Ammar et al. (2004) among Muslim prisoners in Ohio state correctional facilities, found that the majority of Muslims in the sample had converted while incarcerated. Based on questionnaires distributed to prison chaplains, the study reported high levels of religious observance among Muslim inmates and found no clear correlation between conversion and the type of offense committed, suggesting that conversion is not confined to specific criminogenic categories.

A further qualitative study of prison converts in the United Kingdom indicates that adherence to Islam is associated with improved psychosocial adjustment to prison life, including references to reduced aggression and an increased perception of moral normalization during detention.


Social and Psychological Dynamics of Conversion in Prison

Sociological theories of religious conversion in correctional settings emphasize that religious structures and internal social networks within prison may facilitate the adoption of a new religious identity. In environments where external community ties are weak or nonexistent, belonging to a religious community can function as a substitute social structure, providing shared rituals, daily discipline, and an alternative normative framework.

In particular, Islamic practice—with its emphasis on daily prayers, fasting, and self-discipline—can offer an internal structure that addresses needs for order, self-control, and social belonging within the highly regulated environment of incarceration.

This dynamic has further been linked to the construction of a new pious-moral identity, through which the inmate reframes their personal biography in religious terms, contributing to a self-concept that is more prosocial and less centered on criminality.


Conclusions

Contemporary academic literature demonstrates that:

  • Conversion to Islam in prison is an empirically documented phenomenon, distinct from religious socialization processes occurring outside correctional settings.

  • Conversion processes are primarily motivated by psychological, identity-related, and social factors, rather than by purely instrumental concerns.

  • There are potential benefits associated with Islamic religious practice in prison, including improved psychosocial adjustment and a strengthened sense of moral order.

Ultimately, the study of conversion to Islam in correctional institutions invites us to move beyond simplistic or alarmist interpretations and to consider the spiritual dimension as an integral component of rehabilitation strategies. Understanding and valuing these religious trajectories may contribute not only to more effective prison management, but also to broader insights into the role of religion in processes of human and social transformation.


  • Nawal H. Ammar, Richard R. Weaver, e Steven Saxon, “Muslims in Prison: A Case Study from Ohio State Prisons,” International Journal of Offender Therapy and Comparative Criminology 48, n. 4 (2004): 414–428.

  • Mark Wilkinson, Liam Irfan, Mohammed Quraishi, e Mallory Schneuwly Purdie, “Prison as a Site of Intense Religious Change: The Example of Conversion to Islam,” Religions 12, n. 3 (2021): 162.

  • Mark Wilkinson, Liam Irfan, Mohammed Quraishi, e Mallory Schneuwly Purdie, “Finding Their Faith: Why Do Prisoners Choose Islam?”, in Islam in Prison, Bristol: Bristol University Press, 2023, 94–107.

  • Writer: Nora Amati
    Nora Amati
  • Feb 10
  • 3 min read

Updated: Feb 16

If starfishes lose an arm, it usually grows a new one over time, and in some species, even the detached arm can regenerate an entire starfish, if it contains a part of the central disc, that is, the central area of the body.

Yet, I think we are all like starfish. Allah does not by chance write that He will piece together our bones on the Day of Resurrection.

“Who will give life to the bones when they are dust?”Say: “The One who created them the first time.” (Quran 36:78–79)

And in another verse, even more precise:

“Yes, We are capable even of recomposing his fingertips.” (Quran 75:4)

The human being, even when reduced to dust, is never “lost” for Allah.

 

The Lesson of the Starfish

We have lost the ability to think in a pragmatic way. The starfish regenerates according to biological law, whereas the human being does so through Resurrection, which completely surpasses the laws of nature.

From a logical perspective, there would be no reason to fear. When a part of the body is damaged, either due to accidents or to larger events, other abilities or functions can emerge to compensate. It is significant to note, for example, how individuals who remain paraplegic often develop new skills or interests, acquiring a new awareness and resilience that allow them to succeed in other areas of life.

Similarly, if a fragment of a starfish can regenerate an entire organism, this suggests that on the Day of Resurrection, we will return to life whole, according to the divine will, without any part being lost.

Yet we insist on dividing the bones into separate cemeteries, as if God could forget some of them. The Quran shakes every doubt: not a single phalanx will be lost, not even for the most skeptical atheist. Everyone will be reassembled with absolute precision. Aren’t we already putting together the bones of ancient skeletons, piece by piece? Imagine what the One who will reconstruct them all, down to the last fragment, will be able to do.

 

The Certainty of Resurrection

The Quran affirms with certainty that all will be resurrected after death to be judged:

“Then indeed, on the Day of Resurrection, you will be brought back to life.” (Quran 23:16)

This means that God not only can bring the dead back to life, but He will actually do it—it is not a possibility, but a certain reality.

In Sūra al-Qiyāmah (75), Allah swears by the Day of Resurrection and answers those who doubt:

“Does man think that We will not assemble his bones? Yes, We are capable of putting together even the tips of his fingers.”

All will be gathered and judged. The Quran describes resurrection as a collection of all people, from believers to disbelievers:

“…all living beings on the earth and the birds that fly in the sky: We have left nothing out of the Book. Then all will be gathered to their Lord.”

 

Science Speaks of Rebirth

What today seems impossible is often only something we have not yet learned to observe:

·        Biology shows us organisms capable of regenerating entire bodies from tiny fragments.

·        Physics tells us that no information is truly lost, even when matter changes form.

·        Genetics preserves the complete identity of a human being in a molecule invisible to the naked eye.

A body that decomposes does not disappear: it transforms, its atoms remain, circulate, and are reused. If the created universe works this way—preserving traces, patterns, information—then the idea that Allah can reassemble a human being from his bones is not a childish fantasy, but a logical consequence of a Power already visible in every cell, in every natural law.

What truly shocks is not the Resurrection, but our presumption to think that what we do not understand cannot exist.

 

Finally…

The starfish can regenerate a broken arm. We, however, will be reassembled down to the very last bone, to the very last fragment: nothing will be lost, nothing will vanish.

Death? Only the instant before life returns, complete, into the hands of Allah, with all the bones.



Biology, faith, and social disintegration in the contemporary myth of love


We have been promised that romantic love would be freedom and salvation. Empirical reality suggests otherwise: fragile bonds, disintegrating families, structural loneliness. This essay interrogates that promise and proposes a theological and anthropological reading in which religious truth, though disillusioning, appears more consistent with human nature.


Human beings undergo a continuous process of renewal, both biological and symbolic, which is rarely acknowledged as such. Cells regenerate, bones renew themselves over time, identity itself shifts from day to day; yet the idea of Resurrection—understood not only in an eschatological sense but as a permanent transformation of being—is often rejected or reduced to myth. No individual is ever identical to themselves over time, and this impermanence does not constitute a loss but rather a necessary condition of existence.


Acceptance of this transience renders confrontation with finitude less traumatic. The time allotted to human beings is limited and unavoidable: it may end in an instant or after decades, but it cannot be halted. It follows that the purpose of existence should not be reduced to the mere pursuit of pleasure or well-being, but rather oriented toward understanding, learning, and the overcoming of the trials imposed by life.


From this perspective, the thought of Khalil Gibran is particularly illuminating. The invitation to follow one’s heart—even when it leads to suffering and inner stripping—suggests that love itself may constitute an initiatory trial. To love someone who will inevitably be lost—through choice, change, or destiny—teaches that human bonds are contingent, imperfect, and non-absolute. Their ultimate purpose is not mutual possession, but the reorientation of the individual toward a transcendent dimension, toward God.


The loss of love, therefore, does not represent an anomaly but a universal experience. Love, as a feeling, is by nature unstable and temporary; like all emotional states, it cannot be fixed or guaranteed. Accepting this reality early enables access to a more mature form of serenity, grounded not in affective dependence but in inner equilibrium.


It is within this state of peace that the deeper meaning of Islam becomes more intelligible, understood as conscious submission to the order of reality. The couple relationship ceases to be the foundational element of individual identity, and priorities—particularly for women after the formation of a family—undergo a substantial transformation. Needs for stability, security, cooperation, and companionship emerge, accompanied by a self-regard that renders the exclusive centrality of the man in the definition of one’s value superfluous.


From this standpoint, the romantic idea of love as total and perpetual fusion appears as a relatively recent cultural construction, amplified by the Western media imaginary. The distinction of biological roles—man oriented toward diffusion, woman toward receptivity and continuity—is often denied in the name of an abstractly conceived equality rather than a functional one. This does not imply a hierarchy of worth, but a differentiation of roles that has historically ensured the survival and stability of human societies.


The rejection of this biological and social reality has coincided with an exponential increase in familial fractures: divorce, single-parent households, economic and psychological isolation of mothers, and growing fragility among children. In parallel, the emphasis on individual self-realization and ego has progressively eroded collective support networks.


Love, understood as romantic passion, thus reveals itself as a transitory experience; what endures instead are compassion, responsibility toward others, and commitment to the community. Yet even these values today appear subordinated to a logic of affective consumption, in which betrayal and relational instability become systemic phenomena.


Questioning the model of the princess-woman and the man as the exclusive source of emotional validation does not entail denying female dignity, but rather rescuing it from an illusory paradigm. Dominant narratives have often produced the opposite effect from what they promised: an increase in loneliness, precarity, and familial disintegration.


The Qur’an, in its radical sincerity, does not soften this condition. Precisely for this reason it may be unsettling: it disillusions, unmasks, and forces confrontation with human nature as it is, not as one might wish it to be. The freedom granted to men within their roles is balanced by material and moral obligations; women, by renouncing the claim to symbolic exclusivity, may paradoxically gain access to a more concrete and autonomous form of freedom.


Accepting not being “the only one” does not equate to denying one’s worth, but rather to removing that worth from dependence on external recognition. In this sense, the provocation is not an attack on human dignity, but an invitation to reconsider the foundations upon which it is constructed.

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