17 Syawal 1446H / 16 April 2025
Assalamu’alaikum warahmatullahi
wabarakatuh,
Let me take you on a journey—back to a time when the Muslim Ummah was just beginning to take shape. A time of revelation, brotherhood, and responsibility.
In the early days of Islam, during the life of our beloved Prophet Muhammad ﷺ, there was already a sense of collective care. Wealth that was contributed by the
community—whether through zakat, charity, or spoils of war—was used for the betterment of the people. But it wasn’t yet formalised. It was simple. Direct. Based on trust and divine instruction.
Then came the caliphate of Saidina Umar ibn Al-Khattab (r.a.), a man known for his foresight and strength in leadership. Under his rule, the Islamic empire grew fast—stretching across
lands and cultures. With that expansion came vast wealth. Too much to manage informally.
It was then that the idea of Baitulmal, the House of Wealth, was born as a formal institution. A treasury not just for safekeeping, but for serving the people. Umar, with the advice of the great warrior Khalid
ibn Al-Walid, established the treasury based on divine guidance—rooted in the Qur'an, the Sunnah, and the wisdom of the Companions.
And so, the Diwan—as it was first known—was set up.
As the years passed, and the Umayyad dynasty rose to power, Baitulmal became a well-oiled institution. The
empire reached into Africa, Rome, and Constantinople, and with it came multiple sources of income—Kharaj, Zakat, Jizyah, Ghanimah, Fai. It was more than a bank. It was a system to uplift the people—building roads, supporting the poor, funding education, and maintaining justice.
Then came the Abbasid
era. The capital moved to Baghdad, the glittering jewel of trade and knowledge. The wealth flowing into Baitulmal multiplied. But so did the challenges. Internal strife between brothers—Caliph Al-Ma’mun and Al-Amin—marked the beginning of something no one had foreseen: the slow unraveling of this mighty institution.
By the
time Western forces descended during the Crusades, the Baitulmal had already lost much of its structure. No longer was it at the heart of policy, development, and social justice. Its role was reduced—confined to managing zakat fitrah, zakat harta, and waqf.
The once-beating heart of the
Ummah's economy had become quiet.
But here’s the thing: history doesn’t fade. It teaches. And perhaps the revival of institutions like Baitulmal—in form, in spirit, in vision—is the very key we need to uplift our communities once again.
Wallahu a’lam.
