Muslim

For years, the Boko Haram and the Islamic State West Africa Province (ISWAP) terror groups have told Muslims in Nigeria and the Lake Chad Basin that the world outside their camps is not merely corrupt, but that living in it constitutes unbelief. They reinforce this stance through the misinterpretation of scripture, selective history, and the authority of armed men. They use terms such as tawheed (monotheism), hijrah (migration), bay‘ah (allegiance), jihad, daulah (sovereign state), Darul Islam (abode of Islam), Darul Kufr (abode of unbelief), and takfir (excommunication). 

To the ordinary ear, it may sound like religion, but beneath the vocabulary is a hard political claim: only their authority can certify Islam. Through this doctrine, they decide who is allowed to live, who must die, who is Muslim, who is no longer Muslim, which land is pure, which land is condemned, which ruler is apostate, and why a farmer, teacher, cleric, trader, voter, soldier, journalist, or civil servant can become a target.

The Takfir

At the centre of this war is takfir, the act of declaring a professed Muslim to be an unbeliever. Mainstream Islamic scholarship treats takfir as a grave matter. It requires knowledge, evidence, context, intention, and due process. A Muslim does not leave Islam because he lives under a flawed state, or because he carries an identity card, works in a hospital, teaches in a school, votes in an election, or refuses to migrate to a forest camp – all of which the terror groups view as signs of belief in Western values.

Boko Haram, or Jama’atu Ahlis-Sunna Lidda’Awati Wal-Jihad, shortened as JAS, loyal to Abubakar Shekau, decreed that if you did these things, you were suspect. The most frightening part of Shekau’s doctrine was that he demanded others declare the same people unbelievers, too. If he declared a Muslim in Maiduguri an unbeliever because he lived under the Nigerian state, then ISWAP also had to declare that person an unbeliever. If ISWAP refused, Shekau’s logic turned against the group; they too became unbelievers because they failed to excommunicate those he had excommunicated.

This doctrine explains why JAS could kill villagers, denounce scholars, attack mosques, murder defectors, bomb displaced people, and fight ISWAP while still claiming to defend Islam. In Shekau’s universe, the circle of Islam narrowed until only his faction stood inside it. Everyone else stood outside the gate.

Colonial rupture and the question of authority

Abdulbasit Kassim, assistant professor of religion and classics at the University of Rochester, who specialises in the histories and cultures of Muslim societies in West Africa, places this doctrine inside a longer history. He argues that the question did not begin with JAS but reaches back into debates in Muslim West Africa over land, power, law, colonial rule, and the status of Muslims living under non-Islamic authority.

“Before colonial rule, much of what is now northern Nigeria, southern Niger, northern Cameroon, and western Chad belonged to a wider region known as Central Bilad al-Sudan. Muslim polities such as the Sokoto Caliphate and the Kanem-Borno Empire governed social, economic, political, and legal life through Islamic norms,” he said.

Colonialism disrupted that order. By conquering territory, the British introduced a hierarchy of laws in which Islamic law survived, but with a narrowed jurisdiction. Sharia courts continued in civil matters, especially marriage, inheritance, and family disputes. Criminal punishments under the Islamic canon became restricted, weakened, or rendered practically dormant.

“After 1999, when Zamfara State under Ahmad Sani Yerima revived the criminal aspect of Sharia, old tensions returned,” the professor added. “Some scholars and activists welcomed it as a restoration. Others argued that full Sharia could not operate inside a constitutional democracy where any law inconsistent with the 1999 Constitution could be struck down.”

JAS, evidently, did not emerge in a vacuum. Kassim said, “Mohammed Yusuf rejected Nigeria’s Sharia implementation because, to him, it remained trapped inside a secular constitutional order.” For him, it was not enough for a northern governor to introduce Sharia penal codes. The state itself had to be Islamic. Its sovereignty had to come from Islamic political precepts, not a constitution inherited from colonial rule. This is where the movement’s argument becomes more dangerous. It is not only saying that Nigeria fails to implement Sharia properly, but that the entire political foundation of Nigeria is illegitimate.

To Kassim, figures such as Ibrahim Zakzaky and Mohammed Yusuf shared one major point, even though their methods and movements differed. “They rejected the possibility of fully reconciling the Islamic juridical canon with Nigeria’s inherited secular constitutional order.”

This was the opening JAS exploited.

Nigeria as Darul Kufr

After JAS’s leaders convinced followers that the Nigerian state was illegitimate, the movement moved to the next step: migration. If Nigeria is Darul Kufr, the abode of unbelief, then Muslims had a duty to leave it, they said. If JAS’s territory was Darul Islam, the abode of Islam, then migration into its territory became a religious obligation. The group took an old legal category and weaponised it to control territory, Kassim argued.

This was not abstract in Borno, Yobe, Adamawa, Niger, Chad, and Cameroon. It meant families were pressured, threatened, abducted, or killed. Villages were told to submit. People who remained under government control became suspects; those who cooperated with the military became enemies; those who joined the Civilian Joint Task Force (CJTF) and their families became legitimate targets in the eyes of the insurgents; and traditional rulers, clerics, teachers, and government workers became exposed.

Shekau then stretched the doctrine further.

According to Kassim, “Shekau held that Muslims living under the Nigerian state were no longer Muslim if they refused to migrate into JAS-held territory. ISWAP contested this. It did not accept Shekau’s blanket takfir against all Muslims living in government territory. ISWAP argued that such Muslims became unbelievers only if they gave material support to the Nigerian state or its security forces in the war against the insurgents.”

This difference shaped the split between the factions. ISWAP still accepted the larger jihadist fiction that the Nigerian state was illegitimate and that true authority flowed from the Islamic State. It still treated soldiers, political rulers, security officials, and those directly supporting the state’s war effort as apostates. It still imposed taxes, punishments, surveillance, recruitment, and control over civilians. It still placed armed authority above the lived Islam of communities that had practised the faith for generations.

The difference between Shekau’s terror and ISWAP’s brutal governance is the difference between reckless excommunication and structured coercion. One faction burned the village and shouted scripture. The other taxed the village, citing the doctrine. Both denied ordinary citizens the right to live safely and peacefully.

The internal civil war

Kassim captured this danger years ago in his 2018 study, JAS’s Internal Civil War: Stealth Takfir and Jihad as Recipes for Schism. He wrote that the internal war between JAS factions could only be understood through “a close reading of the constant stream of primary sources produced by the two factions”.

Kassim wrote a sentence that still sits heavily over this conflict: “Those who kill know why they kill, but the majority of those about to be killed will hardly understand why they are being targeted.”

That is the tragedy of takfir in the Lake Chad war.

A farmer on his way to the field may not know the difference between JAS and ISWAP doctrine. A displaced woman in a camp may not know what Shekau wrote about Darul Kufr. A trader at a market may not have heard of Abu Malik al-Tamimi, Anas al-Nashwan, or the arguments ISWAP sent to Islamic State scholars. A village imam may know the Qur’an, but not the way and manner in which insurgents interpret it. Yet their lives can be judged based on those interpretations.

Shekau saw ISWAP’s caution as a compromise and that is where the blood began to flow inward. Kassim explains that Shekau’s rigidity helped push internal revolt. Ansaru had earlier objected to JAS’s killing of Muslims and the violation of what its leaders considered the ethics of jihad. Later, Abu Musab al-Barnawi and Mamman Nur moved against Shekau from within the Islamic State framework. They accused him of extremism, arbitrary killing, and corruption of the cause.

In the interview for this article, Kassim explained that Shekau was far more reckless on takfir than Muhammad Yusuf. Yusuf laid the ideological foundation for rebellion against the Nigerian state, but he was more cautious about excommunicating Muslims. Shekau removed many of those restraints.

Civilian life as suspicion

Kassim’s 2018 chapter recorded that Shekau viewed people living beyond JAS’s controlled territory as infidels and therefore legitimate targets within Darul Harb (abode of war). He also noted that Shekau’s position was harsher towards those who fled from JAS territory to areas controlled by the Nigerian state. In that logic, their camps, mosques, markets, and places of refuge could be attacked until they repented and returned.

ISWAP challenged part of this logic. Abu Musab al-Barnawi argued that Muslims who had always lived outside JAS territory could not be declared unbelievers merely for that reason. In his view, they crossed the line when they gave active or passive support to the Nigerian Army, the Civilian JTF, or other forces fighting the insurgents.

Abu Musab died in Kaduna, northwestern Nigeria, an area that both JAS and ISWAP consider Darul Kufr. This may partly explain ISWAP’s relative fluidity on the issue, compared with JAS.

HumAngle spoke to a former JAS shura member who later joined ISWAP. He subsequently completed the Nigerian government’s deradicalisation programme and now lives freely in Maiduguri. He says the Shekau faction does not recognise the Islam of Nigerians, Saudis, or anyone outside its creed. “To them, whoever is not with them is an unbeliever. Saudi Arabia is no different from a non-Muslim society in their imagination. It is simply another land of unbelief.”

He said ISWAP classifies Muslims living in Nigeria, Cameroon, Chad, Niger, and other states into categories. Those who can migrate but refuse to do so are sinners, not necessarily unbelievers. Their offence is treated as a major sin. The weak, the elderly, women, children, and those without means may be excused. Those who remain outside insurgent territory while openly challenging secular rule and calling people to Islamic governance may even be rewarded. In his telling, Mohammed Yusuf’s preaching before 2009 fits this category.

But those who join the democratic system, legislate, govern, enforce state authority, or fight under the security forces enter a more dangerous category. Politicians and legislators become tawaghit (false gods). Security officials become direct enemies. Soldiers, police officers, Civilian JTF members, and others who bear arms against the insurgents are treated as apostates whose blood is lawful to be spilt.

Doctors and teachers sit lower in ISWAP’s hierarchy of offence. They are not treated the same way as soldiers or politicians, but they still operate inside a system the group condemns.

This is the cold bureaucracy of ISWAP’s worldview. It sorts society by perceived allegiance, measuring sin by proximity to the state. The former Shura member called JAS a Khawarij-type movement because of its sweeping excommunication of Muslims. He said Shekau and his followers misused verses on oppression, migration, and disbelief. They took verses that classical exegetes treated with care and turned them into proof that any Muslim living in Darul Kufr had committed major shirk.

The key verse in their argument comes from Surah An-Nisa, where angels question those who wronged themselves and failed to migrate when Allah’s earth was spacious. ISWAP reads this as a grave warning against remaining in a land where Islam cannot be practised fully. Still, it leaves room for categories such as weakness, inability, and sin below disbelief.

The former shura member says Shekau’s faction then links this to another Qur’anic discussion of zulm (oppression), or wrongdoing, in which classical explanations connect the greatest zulm to shirk (polytheism). From there, JAS concludes that staying in Darul Kufr is not merely a sin but a state of unbelief. That leap is where the danger sits.

The former Shura member said JAS uses this belief to seize wealth, abduct people, kill travellers, attack farmers, and justify arbitrary violence. 

Why Hajj became secondary to war

ISWAP and the wider Islamic State network, the former shura member explains, take a more layered position on Hajj (pilgrimage to Mecca), which is generally regarded by Muslims as one of the five pillars of faith. “They still recognise Hajj as an obligation for Muslims who have the means. But they argue that tawheed has been corrupted worldwide and that restoring it through jihad takes priority. In practice, a wealthy fighter should not spend money on Hajj. He should donate it for weapons.”

Islam makes Hajj one of its five pillars. ISIS and ISWAP do not always deny that in theory, but they demote it in practice. They turn the battlefield into a higher obligation that suspends pilgrimage, family obligations, learning, work, charity, and ordinary religious life.

The anonymous source says senior Islamic State scholars issued rulings that no mujahid should spend his money on Hajj when he can spend it on arms. 

They take a religion structured around testimony, prayer, fasting, zakat, and pilgrimage, then reorder it around obedience to commanders and permanent war. The recruit is told that the world is corrupt, his parents are ignorant, his old imam is compromised, his country is unbelieving, his passport is a symbol of loyalty to kufr, and his only safe identity is inside the jama‘ah (the jihadists’ community). By the time he is asked to kill, the moral world that could have restrained him has already been dismantled.

Saudi Arabia and the battle for religious legitimacy

For Muslims around the world, Saudi Arabia holds Mecca and Medina, the two holiest sanctuaries in Islam. Millions perform Hajj under Saudi administration, yet jihadist ideologues have long denounced the Saudi state as apostate, accusing its rulers of alliance with Western powers, partial application of Sharia, participation in the United Nations system, and military cooperation with the United States and others.

Kassim points to Abu Muhammad al-Maqdisi, the Jordanian jihadist ideologue, whose writings attacked the legitimacy of the Saudi state. The argument is familiar in jihadist circles: Saudi rulers claim Sharia, but rule partly through artificial laws; they belong to the international state system; they support Western military campaigns; they host or cooperate with foreign military power; they have betrayed Muslims.

This is why jihadists can condemn Saudi rulers while still struggling over the status of Hajj. Some declare the rulers apostate but still accept that Muslims may perform Hajj because the holy places remain sacred. Others move closer to rejecting Hajj under Saudi authority or treating it as inferior to jihad.

The anonymous source says ISWAP and Islamic State circles call the Saudi royal and scholarly establishment “Ahl Salul”, a contemptuous distortion linking them to hypocrisy. They do not call them “A’l Saud” or “A’l Sheikh” with respect. They dismiss many Saudi scholars as apostates or compromised because they did not confront the Saudi state.

Who gets to define religion? The scholars of centuries? The community? The custodians of the holy cities? The legal schools? The state? The armed commander in the bush? JAS and ISWAP argue that authority belongs to the armed vanguard. That is why they reject Nigeria’s Sharia states, Saudi Arabia, Qatar, UAE, Afghanistan, Mali, Niger, Chad, and other Muslim-majority or Muslim-populated states. 

The third generation of war

Kassim warned in the interview that the conflict is entering a third generation, which JAS described in one of its propaganda videos as “Jiyalit-Tamkin” (reinforcement generation). Many fighters were born into war and therefore did not sit through the early debates or learn the tradition deeply. They inherited fear, slogans, weapons, commanders, and survival inside an insurgent economy.

The first generation, including Mohammed Yusuf, Shekau, Mamman Nur, and others, had some level of Islamic training. One may reject their interpretations, but they tried to ground their actions in texts. Shekau himself wrote books and cited Usman Dan Fodio, even if, as Kassim notes, the citations were often erroneous and shallow.

The current generation is different. For many of them, jihad is the only economy they know, and now functions as the road to food, wives, money, status, revenge, protection, and belonging. 

The former shura member says this is visible among the Shekau loyalists who remain under Bakura’s orbit. He says they suffer from a dearth of scholars and describes figures around the faction as lacking deep knowledge, with some retained by kinship, money, fear, or coercion rather than conviction. This is one of the most important revelations.

“The war is no longer driven only by men who believe they are restoring an Islamic order. It is also driven by men trapped inside a violent economy that needs theology to keep feeding itself,” the former shura member said. War has become a livelihood.

Ending the conflict requires more than defeating JAS’s ideology. Many actors are bound to the war by power, profit, survival, and identity, making violence harder to end than extremist beliefs.

Why the war endures

The state did not create JAS’s theology, but it gave the movement that emerged in northeastern Nigeria some of its most powerful stories. The killing of Mohammed Yusuf in 2009, mass arrests, military abuses, corruption, abandoned communities, failed justice, and the humiliation of civilians all became material for insurgent propaganda.

Across the Sahel, the same pattern repeats. Jihadist groups exploit weak courts, abusive soldiers, predatory officials, unresolved local disputes, ethnic suspicion, rural abandonment, and poverty. This is why Nigeria cannot bomb its way out of the conflict.

The anonymous former shura member rejected claims linking recent schoolchildren kidnappings in Oyo State to either ISWAP or JAS. According to him, the perpetrators are unlikely to belong to either group. Instead, they may be newly emerging terrorist cells, former Lake Chad insurgents, or criminal networks that have adopted the rhetoric, tactics, and imagery associated with the Lake Chad insurgency.

Nigeria now faces more than one threat. There are jihadist factions with doctrine, command structure, and transnational links. There are armed gangs with local motives. Some kidnappers borrow religious language. Some opportunists understand that the word Sharia can create fear, attract attention, or confuse investigators.

Bad analysis merges them all while good analysis separates doctrine, network, command, territory, language, and motive. 

The need for precision

Experts say mainstream Islamic scholars must speak with more precision and courage. They must confront takfir clearly and explain why residence under a secular state does not erase religion. They must explain why bad governance does not give an insurgent the right to cancel the faith of millions, why Hajj cannot be demoted by men who need money for weapons, and why Sharia without mercy, restraint, due process, and qualified authority becomes rule by fear.

It is not enough to say JAS has nothing to do with Islam. That may comfort outsiders, but it does not answer the recruit who has heard verses, hadith, juristic language, and historical references. 

Kassim admits he does not see a clear solution. The idea of restoring an Islamic state will remain as long as many Muslims see the Nigerian system as chaotic, unjust, corrupt, and unable to serve its people. The dysfunction of democracy strengthens the insurgents’ claim. 

The insurgents do not need Nigeria to fail. They only need it to be failed enough for a young man to feel humiliated and for a farmer to distrust soldiers. It was enough for a displaced family to feel forgotten. Every abuse becomes a sermon for them. 

Submission as the ultimate test

The fight against JAS and ISWAP is often framed as a fight to win back territory in Sambisa, Alagarno, Mandara, Marte, Abadam, Lake Chad, or the borderlands. But it is also about authority: Who defines religion? Who protects life? Who dispenses justice and punishes wrongdoing? Who can call another person an unbeliever?

This explains why the majority of JAS’s victims have been Muslims. The war has devastated Muslim villages, clerics, farmers, traders, women, children, and displaced families.

JAS and ISWAP are defending their monopoly over religion. And inside that monopoly, Daniel the priest, Ibrahim the imam, the displaced mother, the market trader, the farmer, the journalist, and the child on the road can all meet the same fate. 

In “The Little Sister,” a teenager tries to hide in plain sight. Although everyone comments on her beauty, 17-year-old Fatima prefers to tie her hair back in a ponytail, her bright eyes buried underneath a black ball cap, her body concealed in unflattering tracksuits. As played by first-timer Nadia Melliti, who won the actress award at last year’s Cannes Film Festival, Fatima is encased in a kind of armor, an outward manifestation of her hesitancy to share her sexual orientation with a world she knows will judge her. This graceful film chronicles the process by which Fatima gradually sheds that reserve.

Adapted from Fatima Daas’ 2020 novel “The Last One,” a work of autofiction detailing the French author’s own coming out, “The Little Sister” takes place over five seasons, observing Fatima as she completes grade school and begins attending university. An adept athlete with a tomboyish demeanor, Fatima disappears inside a friend group consisting of immature teen boys who treat her like one of the guys, including her in their raunchy sex talk. Fatima has a boyfriend, Adel (Ahmed Kheloufi), but the relationship feels vestigial, with him constantly complaining that she should dress more feminine. Just as upsetting to Adel: When he tells Fatima that he loves her, she doesn’t respond in kind.

This is the third feature from French actor and director Hafsia Herzi, who herself made an acting splash in 2007’s “The Secret of the Grain.” For “The Little Sister,” Herzi takes a cue from Daas’ book, mapping Fatima’s inner journey as a modest series of tentative steps forward and anxious steps back. Fatima has reason to be skittish. The youngest of three daughters in a loving French-Algerian Muslim family, she conceals any hint of her sexuality from her mother, father and sisters, anticipating their disapproval. Many queer coming-of-age movies position the character’s awakening as an act of defiance. For Fatima, a practicing Muslim who adores her parents, the stakes feel even higher. Melliti’s performance is one of silent suffering, illustrating Fatima’s deference to her family.

But as much as she smothers her desires, others can sense them. An altercation between her friends and a gay male classmate gets heated once the classmate accuses her of being closeted, which she vehemently (and violently) denies. Soon after, Fatima secretly joins a dating app, hoping to understand her queerness. Her first date, in which she uses a fake name, focuses on learning terminology such as scissoring, and she approaches each new encounter like a fact-finding mission. Melliti keeps the shy teenager’s reactions neutral, Fatima’s stoicism a strategy to prevent exposing her inexperience.

That’s when she meets Ji-Na (Park Ji-min, the free spirit of “Return to Seoul”), a physician’s assistant who practically glows in her presence, overwhelming Fatima’s cautious nature. Ji-Na and Fatima’s love story — its blossoming, its unraveling, its possible resuscitation — forms the heart of “The Little Sister,” which also received the Queer Palm at Cannes. Melliti and Park exude a frisky, lusty chemistry, but it’s a film as much about self-love, as Fatima seeks to become comfortable in her own skin. Ji-Na is open and confident while Fatima remains closed off, her shame about her sexuality deeply culturally ingrained. When our main character starts lowering her defenses, however, that’s when she’s hit by a jolt that sends her spiraling.

Herzi’s slender, unassuming drama contains few emotional crescendos or grand insights, although this is the rare French film to center on a Muslim lesbian as its protagonist. “The Little Sister” grows even more intriguing once the love affair runs aground, forcing Fatima to flounder in her heartache. Her odyssey will lead to threesomes and lonely nights, but also difficult questions regarding how her faith and family may leave her perpetually adrift.

“The Little Sister” leaves much unspoken, which is fitting for a protagonist who rarely expresses herself in clear terms. Even during a touching scene near the finale, as Fatima sits at the dinner table weeping, upset over the end of a relationship, she and her mother (Amina Ben Mohamed) engage in a nimble dance: Fatima doesn’t feel safe explaining precisely why she’s crying, while her supportive mom chooses her words carefully, perhaps knowing more about her daughter than she dares say aloud. But despite the character’s rocky path to sexual awakening, Herzi navigates toward a hopeful conclusion that doesn’t peddle phony uplift. Fatima still faces a community that won’t embrace her true self. But maybe, at last, she’s willing to be seen.

Thousands of Muslim Bangladeshis have been detained or deported under West Bengal’s new BJP government.

Al Jazeera’s Ava Warriner explains why critics fear the campaign could deepen religious tensions and test due process protections.

Baltimore, United States – Muslim Americans are grieving after two gunmen last week opened fire at the Islamic Center of San Diego, killing three people.

But at the annual conference for the Islamic Circle of North America (ICNA) in Baltimore, community leaders stressed the urgency of turning the sorrow into action.

Nearly 25,000 people turned out for the annual event, held on Saturday and Sunday. Speakers addressed the recent shooting, pointing to the courage of the three victims as examples for the broader community in a time of heightened Islamophobia.

“We owe them more than condolences. We owe them resolve,” said Lena Masri, a lawyer at the Council of American-Islamic Relations (CAIR).

She explained how the victims — a security officer, a caretaker and a neighbour — sacrificed their lives to save others. The security officer, Amin Abdullah, exchanged fire with the shooters, while the other two victims, Mansour Kaziha and Nadir Awad, rushed to help and called for emergency services.

“They protected the physical space of our community: the masjid [mosque], the school, the children, the teachers, the worshippers,” Masri explained.

“Our responsibility is to protect the civic space of our community: the right to worship, the right to speak, the right to organise, the right to defend Palestine, the right to build institutions.”

That was the recurring theme of the conference: that the Muslim American community cannot afford to be passive and must draw on its strength to push back against bigotry and hate.

Speakers emphasised voting, organising and donating to community institutions and candidates who align with Muslim Americans. They also underscored the need to hold officials accountable and push for an end to Israel’s atrocities in Palestine.

“We owe Gaza more than grief. We owe Gaza advocacy that cannot be intimidated into silence,” Masri said.

Islamophobia and Palestinians’ dehumanisation

Symbols of Palestine could be seen everywhere at the conference, from bags emblazoned with watermelons and flags to keffiyeh-patterned scarves, shirts and water bottles.

At a bazaar featuring dozens of vendors, conference-goers left messages of solidarity on a tent that will be sent to Gaza by the charity Life for Relief and Development (LIFE).

In speeches and on panels, advocates drew a link between anti-Muslim bigotry in the United States and Israel’s abuses in Gaza, the occupied West Bank and Lebanon.

Some of the loudest promoters of Islamophobia in the US are also staunch Israel supporters, among them right-wing commentator Laura Loomer and Congressman Randy Fine.

Both Loomer and Fine are allies of US President Donald Trump, whose administration has unleashed a crackdown to deport critics of Israel who live in the US but are not citizens.

Altaf Husain, a professor at the Howard University School of Social Work, said anti-Palestinian voices are trying to “scare” Muslims as a means of silencing criticism of Israel.

“They want to shut this down, so it’s a direct connection,” Husain told Al Jazeera.

He said the large turnout at the ICNA conference shows that the community is not intimidated and will not back down.

In the response to the shooting in San Diego, Husain pointed out that the community raised more than $3.5m for the victims’ families and moved to bolster security around Muslim institutions.

Layers of security

Saad Kazmi, the president of ICNA, said the organisation relied on three layers of protection to secure this weekend’s event: its own security guards, an outside firm and local law enforcement agencies in Baltimore.

While there is anxiety in the community over the rise of Islamophobia and Trump’s immigration crackdown, he said Muslim Americans must take matters into their own hands and work with “sensible” people across the political spectrum to defeat hate.

“We are very thankful that we live in a country that is ruled by the Constitution and law,” Kazmi told Al Jazeera.

Kazmi added that the shooting in San Diego only added to the community’s determination to assert and protect its rights. The Islamic centre in the city, he noted, did not shut down after the attack.

“If anything came out of this, it is that there are more attendees to the masjid, more people who believe that the way forward is to strengthen ourselves, strengthen our community and march on,” Kazmi said.

After the shooting, Loomer doubled down on her anti-Muslim rhetoric, calling on immigration authorities to target the Islamic Center of San Diego.

She also called for the deportation of all Muslims from the US, describing them as an “invasive species”. But few Republicans disavowed Loomer, who maintains close ties to the White House.

Rather, more than 60 Congress members have joined the Sharia-Free America Caucus since it was established in December. CAIR has designated the caucus a hate group.

At the state level, governors and local legislators have disparaged Islam while also pushing to penalise Palestinian rights activism.

Texas and Florida, for example, have labelled CAIR a “terrorist” group, while implementing measures against “Sharia law” that critics consider anti-Muslim dog whistles.

Rights under attack

In March, after CAIR sued Florida Governor Ron DeSantis over its “terrorist” designation, a federal court blocked the label from being imposed.

In his ruling, Judge Mark Walker wrote that DeSantis’s executive order (EO) targets the Muslim community as a whole.

“It should be lost on no one that Defendant’s EO targets one of America’s largest Muslim civil rights organizations for indirect suppression of speech. But, as we all know, it is easy for those in power to target minority groups with little pushback,” Walker wrote.

“Sadly, history teaches that it is often minority religious groups who find themselves in the crosshairs.”

On Saturday, several panels praised the US legal system and the laws that protect freedom of religion and speech. But the panellists argued that human rights do not defend themselves; people must step up to protect them.

“You’ve got to imagine rights are a territory, and you have to occupy that territory. If you do not actively occupy that territory, that territory will be taken from you. And that is exactly what has been happening,” Tom Facchine, an imam from New Jersey, said.

Last year, Palestinian immigrant Leqaa Kordia found her rights in jeopardy when immigration agents knocked on her door and detained her over her activism against Israel’s genocidal war in Gaza.

Kordia spent more than a year in Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) detention before an immigration judge ordered her to be released in March.

But Kordia — who is still fighting deportation — told ICNA conference attendees on Saturday that she has no regrets, encouraging them to remain politically active and engaged.

“Speaking up, it comes with a cost … It cost me my health, my life, literally my freedom, and I’m living in uncertainty that tomorrow I’m going to be here, or I’m going to be deported,” she said.

“It comes with a cost, but it’s worth it. It’s worth it because silence, it costs even way more than speaking.”

Nearly 2 million Muslims are preparing to embark on the annual Hajj pilgrimage to Mecca, which begins on May 25, following the sighting of the crescent moon in Saudi Arabia.

The Hajj is the largest annual gathering of Muslims from all over the world and a once-in-a-lifetime journey for many. It is also the fifth pillar of Islam.

In this visual explainer, we look at how Muslims perform the Hajj, including the key steps, rituals and preparations.

What is Hajj?

The Hajj is the annual pilgrimage to Mecca, Saudi Arabia. It is the fifth and final pillar of Islam, along with the declaration of faith (shahada), five daily prayers, obligatory charity (zakat), and fasting during the month of Ramadan.

The word comes from the Arabic root “h-j-j”, which means “intending a journey” or “to set out for a definitive purpose”.

It is obligatory once in a lifetime for all adult Muslims who are physically and financially able to undertake the journey.

When is the Hajj performed?

The Hajj is performed between the 8th and 12th (or 13th) of Dhul-Hijjah, the 12th and final month of the Islamic calendar.

The timing falls roughly 70 days after the end of Ramadan, though this can vary slightly depending on the lunar cycle.

In 2026, the Hajj will take place from May 25 to May 27, but many pilgrims arrive in Saudi Arabia weeks before to prepare for the journey.

Because the Islamic calendar follows a lunar cycle, with months lasting 29 or 30 days, the Hajj shifts 10 to 12 days earlier each year in the Gregorian calendar.

Why do Muslims perform the Hajj?

Muslims believe that the Hajj is a direct commandment from God, as outlined in the Quran.

Prophet Muhammad’s “farewell pilgrimage” in 632 AD affirmed the steps in the 10th year of the Islamic calendar, and it is mentioned in the Quran nearly a dozen times.

The Hajj begins before pilgrims even enter Mecca.

The journey is a spiritual one, and it is considered to allow Muslims to seek forgiveness, purify their souls and demonstrate their submission to God.

How is the Hajj performed?

Muslims perform many rites and rituals during the five days of Hajj, which can be explained in the following steps.

Day 1

Ihram: Entering the pilgrimage

Before entering Mecca, pilgrims enter a sacred state known as ihram. After making the intention to perform the Hajj, men change into two white garments and women wear modest attire. The basic clothing symbolises equality, humility, and unity before God, where differences of nationality, wealth, and status disappear.

2. Tawaf: Circling the Kaaba

After entering Mecca, pilgrims circle the Kaaba – a cubic building at the Masjid al-Haram (Grand Mosque) that serves as the qibla, the direction Muslims face during prayer – seven times in a counterclockwise direction. This shared rhythm symbolises unity in the worship of the One God.

3. Sa’i: Walking between Safa and Marwah

Pilgrims can then perform the sa’i, a ritual of walking seven times between the hills of Safa and Marwa.

The ritual retraces the search for water in the desert valley of Mecca by Prophet Abraham’s (Ibrahim) wife, Hagar (Hajar), for their son, Ishmael (Ismail), before the Zamzam well emerged.

In Islamic tradition, this well has supplied pristine water in the arid desert for more than 4,000 years and continues to nourish pilgrims to this day.

4. Mina: The tent city

Pilgrims then proceed to Mina, about 8km (5 miles) east of the Kaaba, where they will spend the night in prayer and reflection.

Mina is famously known as the “city of tents” due to the vast expanse of 100,000 white tents to house the millions of pilgrims.

Day 2

5. Arafat: The central day of Hajj

On the second day of the Hajj, pilgrims arrive early at the plains of Mount Arafat, about 15km (9 miles) from Mina. They spend the afternoon in wuquf (standing) from midday to sunset, praying, and repenting.

Arafah is the most important ritual of the Hajj and symbolises a preview of the Day of Judgement. Muslims worldwide are encouraged to fast on this day and engage in prayer and reflection.

6. Muzdalifah: Sleeping under the open sky

After sunset, pilgrims travel to Muzdalifah, 9km (5.5 miles) away. There, they perform maghrib and isha prayers before collecting pebbles for the next day’s ritual.

Day 3

On this day, Muslims from around the world celebrate the first day of Eid al-Adha, or the celebration of the sacrifice.

From the early hours of the morning, pilgrims perform a series of rituals, starting with walking back to Mina.

7. Stoning of the pillars

Pilgrims enter Mina, where they throw seven pebbles at the largest of three stone pillars. This ritual represents the stoning of the devil, which symbolises the rejection of Satan’s temptations.

8. Sacrifice during Eid al-Adha

Pilgrims, or agents on their behalf, offer an animal sacrifice in remembrance of Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his son in obedience to God.

9. Cutting or shaving hair

Men shave or trim their heads, and women cut a small portion of their hair. This symbolises spiritual renewal.

10. Main tawaf

Pilgrims return to Mecca to perform tawaf, circling the Kaaba, followed by sa’i, walking seven times between the hills of Safa and Marwa.

Days 4 and 5

Pilgrims return to Mina and perform rami (stoning) of all three stone pillars on each day. Pilgrims who remain for an extra day repeat the stoning ritual at all three pillars once more.

Before leaving Mecca, pilgrims perform a final tawaf around the Kaaba, known as the tawaf al-wada or a “farewell tawaf”, signifying a spiritual farewell to the holy sanctuary.

How do Muslims mark the end of Hajj?

Muslims mark the end of the Hajj with Eid al-Adha, celebrated on the 10th of Dhul-Hijjah and lasting up to three days in many countries.

The day begins with a special prayer shortly after sunrise, as Muslims gather in mosques or open areas, wearing their finest clothes. The rest of the day is spent sharing meals, exchanging gifts, and visiting family and friends. The greeting “Eid Mubarak”, meaning “Blessed Eid,” is commonly exchanged.

Eid al-Adha also involves the ritual of animal sacrifice, known as Qurbani. Muslims who are able to do so sacrifice a sheep, goat, cow or camel, and the meat is divided into three parts: one for the family, one for relatives and friends, and one for those in need.