For years, conversations about Muslim children’s books have centred around one word: representation. We’ve been rightly focused on ensuring that Muslim children see themselves on the page – that they recognise their names, their families, their skin tones, and their dress. It was necessary and overdue, and it mattered deeply.

But representation was only ever supposed to be the beginning. What our children need now isn’t just to see themselves reflected. They need stories that speak to their souls – stories that centre faith not as a backdrop, but as the beating heart of their world. And they need the adults around them to actively seek out and find these books.

Diverse books became a publishing movement, and it opened doors. Over the last ten years, we’ve seen a beautiful selection of Muslim-authored picture books enter the market. From Ramadan and Eid books, family and food books, and so many more – representation in books sends a message to children. Whether it is ‘you exist’ or ‘your celebrations are important’, or ‘this is how things are done in your home too’, books that reflect traditionally underrepresented communities, that actually belong to the global majority, are still necessary and needed. What I’ve loved seeing is Muslim authors going a leap further.

Culturally connected stories tell children they matter. Spiritual storytelling tells them – you are connected to something divine.

The first affirms identity and the second nourishes the soul. Our children need both.

When I wrote my picture book, Zamzam for Everyone, I didn’t just want to explain Hajj. I wanted to invite children into it and to let them feel what faith feels like when it flows through a story. I wanted to represent faith as a living, breathing experience. Hajj is more than a once-in-a-lifetime obligation; it is a symbolic, faith-filled journey. It is community, it is connection – to Allah and to those we share our world with. I wanted children to sense awe. To understand that when their parents tell them stories of faith, it connects them to something vast and alive – history, belonging, hope.

A Ramadan Night by Nadine Presley does something similar. It evokes deep emotions that are both individual and communal. A little boy’s journey to the masjid for Taraweeh prayer in Damascus, Syria, leads to an evocative exploration of how Ramadan nights feel – this is deeply personal, rich with faith and fondness of a month that is both challenging and rewarding

Ramadan For Everyone by Aya Khalil gently introduces the concept of taqwa, awareness, mindfulness and love for Allah . Ramadan is experienced wholeheartedly and beautifully from within its deep tradition. Family, faith, and fondness fill the pages.

“When children grow up with spiritual representation, they grow up with confidence in what matters most.” (PC: Rendy Novantino)

Ramadan Rain by Jamilah Thompkins Bigelow is lyrical and light in words, but deep and resonant in its message. Layers of meaning fill the pages – du’as accepted at the time of rain, and in Ramadan; the quiet friction between having and not having that is present in communities, and an exploration of what truly makes a gift.

 All three Ramadan books mention Taraweeh, the beautiful but long prayer in Ramadan. It is a prayer that seems long and arduous, and yet Muslims worldwide cling to it fervently. Faith shines from and through these books, luminous and lovely.

Stories like these don’t aim to just represent Muslim culture. They aim to awaken recognition of the sacred, the kind that lives deep inside the fitrah of every child.

It’s not just picture books that do this, but books for older readers too. Shifa Safadi Saltagi has written an NBA-winning middle-grade novel in verse, Kareem Between, as well as the chapter book series, Amina Banana. 

Graphic novelist Huda Fahmy does a wonderful job of writing from within in all her young adult titles. Autumn Allen has a new book releasing in July called You Only Live Twice, about a Black Muslim teenager’s desire to deepen her connection to her faith – Autumn is also my editor at Barefoot Books, and so much of my books’ success is because of her hard work. And SK Ali’s young adult books are a must-read for any young Muslim – her characters’ faith and identity are portrayed with nuance and confidence.

When children grow up with spiritual representation, they grow up with confidence in what matters most.  

What Happens When We Don’t Write Spiritually

The absence of spiritual storytelling leaves a vacuum. Into that vacuum rushes everything else, whether it’s stories that define value by achievement, power, and consumption or stories that elevate the self as the ultimate source of meaning.

Children internalise what stories repeatedly tell them – you are enough, you are powerful, you are in control. These are definitely important and worthy. But faith-based stories offer something radically different – a child learns that they are beloved, that they belong to Allah , and that surrender is not weakness but peace.

This isn’t about moralising. It’s about offering children a spiritual framework for wonder and resilience.

The Need to Write From the Inside

There’s a quiet revolution happening among Muslim storytellers. Writers are no longer just writing about faith, but from within it. This distinction matters.

Writing about faith often seeks translation, whether it is explanation, justification, or softening.
Writing from faith assumes understanding. Trusting the reader to enter the world as it is.

When Muslim writers write from within faith, they reclaim narrative sovereignty. They create stories that aren’t seeking validation but offering vision. They remind children that Islam isn’t a cultural identity, but rather it is a living relationship with Allah that shapes how we see, love, and create.

From Visibility to Vision

We’ve had the era of “mirrors and windows” – the call for diverse books that reflect different faces and experiences. But it’s time to go further. Muslim stories must now offer lamps by way of stories that illuminate the unseen, that help our children make meaning, that show light even in the dark.

Representation was a necessary start. But vision is what will carry us forward.

It’s time to reclaim children’s storytelling as a space of dhikr – remembrance. A space where imagination and iman are not separate pursuits, but twin acts of worship.

The stories we tell our children will either train them to explain their faith or empower them to live it.

If representation is about being seen, then spiritual storytelling is about seeing with the heart.

That is the next frontier of Muslim children’s literature – not books that merely say we belong, but books that whisper we believe.

As Muslim authors, we need the market to now support us. To buy the books, share the books, celebrate the books. Muslim authors are stepping up and writing the stories that speak our truths and fill the gaps that our generation found large and absent. Now, Muslim parents, teachers and communities need to get these stories into the hands of children worldwide.

Spiritual Storytelling Across Media

Children’s literature might be leading the way for other forms of media and storytelling. This deep-seated confidence that picture book writers, their editors, and publishers are showing should be adapted across all forms of media – TV, films, etc. 

For storytelling sits at the very heart of Islamic history and tradition. The Qur’an itself teaches through stories. These narratives are not distant tales; they are living lessons. The Prophets of Islam followed this same path, teaching through parables and moments that met people where they were. Storytelling, by its very nature, is light in its touch yet deep in its impact, allowing faith to be absorbed. This is why the Ummah needs Muslim storytellers today, who remain rooted in their faith, who write authentically from within the tradition, and who honour this sacred legacy. 

Let’s work together to strengthen our own faith and that of our next generation by doing the work, insisting that our stories are told from within faith, and reigniting the legacy of spiritual storytelling that is a part of our history. 

And when our children grow up surrounded by those stories, they’ll know that faith is not something to perform, but something to cherish.

 

Related:

 – On Representation And Intersectionality: What It Means To Be A “Muslim Author”

– Owning Our Stories: The Importance Of Latino Muslim Narratives

 

The post Beyond Representation: Reclaiming Spiritual Storytelling For Muslim Children appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

Israel’s attacks on an iconic Gaza City neighborhood in October 2023 rendered it uninhabitable.

The Sira preserves moments that reveal the depth of the Prophet’s ﷺ humanity and the strength of his trust in Allah . Among the most poignant of these is the period known as ʿĀm al-Ḥuzn — the Year of Sorrow, in which the Prophet ﷺ experienced the loss of two of the most significant pillars of support in his life: his beloved wife Khadījah and his uncle Abū Ṭālib.

Khadījah was the first person to embrace the Prophet’s ﷺ message, offering comfort and support as the first verses of the Qur’an were revealed and the weighty responsibility of prophethood began to take shape. 

Shortly thereafter, the Prophet ﷺ also suffered the loss of Abū Ṭālib, who had safeguarded the public dissemination of the message within Makkah. Upon his demise, animosity towards the Prophet escalated.

For believers, the Year of Sorrow symbolises more than a mere historical event. It strongly highlights the undeniable fact that even prophets, who stand as the pinnacle of creation, faced difficulties.

Khadījah : Strength at the Dawn of Revelation

At the dawn of revelation, when the first encounter with Jibrīl in the Cave of Ḥirā marked the beginning of prophethood, the Prophet ﷺ returned home deeply shaken by the magnitude of what had unfolded before him. At this juncture, Khadījah provided him with solace and encouragement. Her words are among the most profound affirmations chronicled in the Sira:

“Allah will never disgrace you. You maintain ties of kinship, you speak truth, you bear the burdens of the weak, you honour the guest, and you assist those afflicted by hardship.” [Bukhari]

Khadījah’s statements offer more than just comfort; they articulate a divine and spiritual truth by outlining key ethical behaviors in Islam, such as maintaining family ties, truthfulness, charity, hospitality, and supporting the vulnerable. Her response demonstrates an innate understanding that Allah does not abandon those whose lives are directed towards truth, devotion, and service to others. Her words continue to fortify the hearts of believers, serving as a reminder that a life founded on sincere intention and devout commitment is never forsaken by Allah .

Abū Ṭālib: Protection Amid Opposition

The Prophet ﷺ not only mourned the death of Khadījah but also suffered the loss of his uncle, Abū Ṭālib. Abū Ṭālib had nurtured him since childhood and was a staunch and unwavering guardian of his nephew. Due to his esteemed position as a leader of Banū Hāshim, Abū Ṭālib was instrumental in securing the Prophet’s safety in a social structure where tribal affiliation was the sole determinant of individual protection.  

Even though he did not embrace Islam, Abu Talib publicly and resolutely supported the Prophet ﷺ. He upheld this position despite the relentless pressure he endured from the Quraysh leaders because he recognised the Prophet’s ﷺ sincerity and moral integrity.

His death marked a significant change in the outward circumstances of the Prophetic mission. Although the divine message continued to be conveyed, the environment became increasingly difficult.  

With both his inner support and outer shield now gone, the Prophet ﷺ faced a much steeper path ahead.

Ṭā’if: A Day of Profound Difficulty

Given the escalating resistance to his message in Makkah, the Prophet ﷺ looked for a setting where his teachings might be met with openness. This prompted his journey to Ṭā’if. He was hopeful that its leaders would be receptive and would offer a platform for the Islamic message.

Sadly, the response he encountered in Ṭā’if was deeply distressing. He was met with rejection and harsh treatment. Even in this moment of profound difficulty, the Sira reveals something remarkable. The Angel of the Mountains appeared, offering to crush the inhabitants between the mountain ranges due to their defiance. However, the Prophet ﷺ did not display anger or seek vengeance. Instead, his response was marked by forgiveness and an enduring hope that future generations descended from them would dedicate their devotion solely to Allah .

In the aftermath of Ṭā’if, the Prophet ﷺ turned to Allah with words that reveal the depth of his reliance upon his Lord:

“O Allah, to You I complain of my weakness, my limited ability, and my insignificance in the sight of people.
O Most Merciful of those who show mercy, You are the Lord of the oppressed, and You are my Lord.
If You are not displeased with me, then I do not mind what I face, though Your protection is greater comfort for me.”

Sorrow does not distance the believer from Allah . Rather, it draws the heart closer to the One who knows the weights of its burdens. The Prophet’s ﷺ serves as a blueprint for spiritual resilience – prioritising Divine Pleasure over creation, recognising the difficulty of the moment, yet his concern remains firmly focused on Allah .

He does not measure success through the response of people:

If You are not displeased with me, then I do not mind what I face…

In this heartfelt supplication, the heart is directed towards the true measure of success. While human acceptance wavers, circumstances may shift, and outcomes may remain hidden, the believer finds stability in seeking the pleasure of Allah above all else.

In the wake of Ta’if’s hardships, this duʿā reveals a heart that is entirely anchored in Allah . It powerfully demonstrates the Prophet’s ﷺ boundless generosity of spirit, even at his most vulnerable state; he met cruelty with grace, proving that his nobility was shielded by a deep awareness of Divine Care. 

Despite fierce opposition, the core truth of the divine message remained untarnished. The Prophet’s ﷺ sincerity was unyielding, anchored by a steadfast resolve that no pressure could break. Throughout every trial, he found his ultimate strength and solace in Allah alone. 

Spiritual Insights from the Year of Sorrow 1. Faith: The Spiritual Anchor

The Sira shows that grief does not contradict spiritual strength. The Prophet ﷺ experienced deep loss, yet his trust in Allah remained an unwavering anchor amidst the waves of sorrow. Faith does not remove sorrow but calms and steadies the soul, orienting it towards Allah .

2. Sincerity: The Mark of Faith

Khadījah’s words show us that sincerity to Allah is reflected in good character. Upholding ties of kinship, speaking the truth, supporting those in need, and caring for the vulnerable are signs of a heart devoted to Allah . A life marked by generosity, integrity, and concern for others is never insignificant with Allah .

3. Allah Alone: The Eternal Source of Strength

The presence of Khadījah and the protection of Abū Ṭālib show that Allah places means through which His Servants are strengthened. Yet, the Sira is a powerful reminder that human support is limited, imperfect, and falters. Allah alone is Al-Ḥayy, the Ever-Living, and Al-Qayyūm, the One who sustains and upholds all things. Consequently, we learn that our ultimate trust should be placed in the One whose sustenance is never-ending.

4. Compassion – The Pinnacle of Resilience

The Prophet’s ﷺ response to the cruelty of Ṭā’if redefines strength. Years later, when ‘Aishah asked if any day had been more difficult than the battle of Uhud, he ﷺ identified Ṭā’if as one of the most painful days of his life. Yet it was in this moment of peak suffering that his character shone. This proves that a heart connected to Allah is clear and compassionate, even when broken. True resilience is not just the ability to survive hardship, but also being magnanimous in a harsh world; choosing mercy over vengeance, and guidance over grievance.

5. Divine Pleasure: The Sanctuary of the Soul

The heartfelt prayer at Ṭā’if reorients the heart towards the true measure of success: seeking the pleasure of Allah above all else. When the believer finds sanctuary in Allah’s Pleasure, even fluctuating circumstances, no matter how harsh, cannot shake the foundations of faith.

 

The Prophet’s ﷺ  legacy reminds us that while the world can be harsh and cruel, in those moments our response must be grounded in our faith: a God-centred life can be a source of light for the world. 

 

Related:

– On Prophetic Wisdom and Speaking to Children in Times of Distress

– Prophetic Lessons From The Muslim Men In Gaza

 

 

The post The Year Of Sorrow: Key Lessons On Spiritual Resilience From The Seerah appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

A look at the Ottoman Empire’s rare and dramatic victory over the British at the 1916 siege of Kut, and what it reveals about colonial ambitions and Muslim resistance.

By Ibrahim Moiz for MuslimMatters

A Rare Ottoman Victory

The First World War was a seminal moment in modern Islamic history, setting off a chain of events that led to the collapse of the longstanding Ottoman Sultanate, which theoretically claimed leadership over the world’s Muslims as a caliphate, and the imposition of colonial rule in much of the Near East, with administrative structures and borders that have long outlasted the actual colonies.

The war also saw the encroachment of Western European, namely British and French, power in the region for the first time since the medieval era, with Britain in particular playing a major role in establishing a regional dominance unmatched by any non-Muslim power until the United States displaced and inherited its hegemony later in the twentieth century.

Yet at the outset of the war British success was far from certain, and stiff opposition, whether by Ottoman forces or local Muslim militants, continued for decades. This month marks eleven decades since a rare Ottoman victory against the British Empire, at the siege of Kut in central Iraq during the spring of 1916, which will be the subject of this article: the first of several examining key moments in the colonization of the Muslim world’s centre during these years.

Background and Build-Up

The Ottoman Empire just before World War I

British relations with the Ottomans had begun in the sixteenth century, and apart from a period of hostility in the early 1800s, where Britain backed the secession of Greece, had been more or less cordial for most of the nineteenth century.

Over this period Britain came to rule probably the single largest amalgamation of Muslim populations in the world, including such far-flung regions as Egypt and India, which became the regional bases for British policy toward the Middle East. Generally Britain maintained a legal fiction of simply “protecting” its vassals, such as various nobles in India and sheikhs in Arabia, as well as former enemies such as the former caliphal aristocracy of Sokoto and the religious orders of Sudan, which Britain had defeated at the turn of the twentieth century.

In practice, however, it held the whip hand. This was demonstrated in late 1914, shortly after the outbreak of the World War; when Cairo’s nominally independent government supported the Ottomans, its British “protectors” simply replaced it.

The British elite’s stance towards Muslims was mixed; parts of the imperial elite were outright hostile, while others, particularly the so-called “Arabists”, were fascinated, and a handful even embraced Islam. Circles within this elite had tended to favor Ottomans as a check against the powerful Russian Empire; others, particularly liberals, caricatured the “Turks” as oriental tyrants and, for either racial or religious reasons, sympathized with the Russian policy of trying to foment Christian minorities against the Ottomans.

It was not until the early twentieth century that Britain put this policy into practice.

Epitomized by Horatio Kitchener—the ruthless defense minister legendary throughout the British Empire for his exploits in Sudan, South Africa, and the Indo-Afghan borderland—the British elite had long feared that the Ottoman sultanate might incite an international jihad by the Muslims under or around their rule. When the Ottomans joined the World War and did just this, they found takers aplenty.

Muslim discontent in India, overlapping with calls for independence, was high, and many Muslim soldiers deserted the British army. Cairo had to be subdued from joining the Ottomans; the governments of Iran (then Persia) and Afghanistan formally declared neutrality despite severe pressure, and the Afghan regime at least hosted a largely Muslim “Free Indian” government in exile and intermittently supported Pashtun raids on the Indian frontier.

In Africa the Darfur sultanate, the Sanousi order in Libya, and the Dervish emirate in Somalia also lent support to the Ottomans. These were too scattered to change the war’s eventual outcome, but they did create a major headache for the British empire.

Under the rule of the energetic but heavy-handed “Young Turk” junta, the Ottomans in their core territories had managed to antagonize considerable proportions of their ethnic and religious minorities over the 1910s. Yet among at least its Muslim subjects support for the Ottoman cause remained extraordinarily high: only a small minority of Arabs and Kurds defected, many thousands instead fighting and dying under Ottoman colors in such arenas as Libya, eastern Anatolia, and the Dardanelles.

Messing with Mesopotamia

The strategically located and diversely ethnosectarian land of Iraq was one strategic arena: Britain had long suspected it to hold rich oil wealth, and it lay between three oil-rich regions—west of Persia, south of the Caucasus, and east of the Ottoman heartland on the Persian Gulf.

Britain would soon develop an obsession that Mosul was a hotbed of oil, but it was protecting their oil interests in Persia that were the first focus of their campaign. Britain had an arrangement with an Arab chieftain in the Ahwaz region of southern Persia, Khazal Jabir, to protect their pipeline and wanted to prevent its interception by the Ottomans.

For their part, despite a history of dissent in Iraq the Ottomans were able to rally widespread support; their commander in Iraq Hasan Cavit was even able to rally Shia clansmen and gain the support of the Shia cleric Kazim Tabatabai, who had a generally accommodationist attitude toward authority and would lose his own son in the war.

Ottoman soldiers

A British expedition, led by Arthur Barrett, landed in the Basran delta in autumn 1914 and after hard fighting managed to push back Cavit’s lieutenant there, Suphi Bey. Thousands of Arab clansmen, led by sheikhs Ajaimi Saadoun and Umran Saadoun, assembled a riverine fleet to sail to the coast to fight.

Meanwhile the Lami clan led by Ghadban Bunayya, a rival of Khazal, sabotaged the British pipeline at Ahwaz and ambushed the British reinforcements that arrived in response. In turn the British army, led by George Gorringe, ravaged the marshlands of southeast Iraq, his heavy bombardment killing hundreds in an attempt to dissuade Arab clansmen from joining the Ottomans.

By this point Britain was in some consternation after its early hopes of conquering Istanbul by sea had been shattered at the Battle of Gallipoli. Their new commander Eccles Nixon now set his sights on conquering Iraq.

In April 1915 he was encouraged with a major success at Shuaiba. The Ottoman army, usually based in Baghdad, was already overstretched, and relied heavily on the volunteering Arab clansmen under Muntafiqi chieftains Saadouns Abdullah and Ajaimi. Despite their courage, they were routed and their field commander Suleiman Askeri committed suicide.

The new Ottoman commander Mehmet Nurettin—known as “Bearded Nurettin” as the only Ottoman general to sport a beard—would earn a reputation as a ruthless, even fanatical, soldier; but, contrary to racialized British ideas of “oriental” incompetence that should have been put to bed at Gallipoli, he could fight.

The Ottomans had often relied on their German allies to provide military advice, if not outright command, as at Gallipoli, and much European opinion assumed that in the absence of German officers the “Turks” made good soldiers but poor commanders. Their overconfidence soared when by the summer the British army took the cities of Nasiria and Kut: Charles Townshend, commanding the British vanguard, dreamt of becoming “governor of Mesopotamia”.

Kut Cut Down to Size

Something of a vainglorious maverick, known for playing ribald songs on a banjo and bursting into bouts of spontaneous French, Townshend was already famous as “Chitral Charlie” in Britain for having led a besieged garrison in the highlands of the Indian frontier, now in northern Pakistan, against an Afghan siege twenty years earlier.

Nixon now ordered him to march all the way up to Baghdad. Though he romanticized about the fabled city, Townshend realized that his army might be overstretched. He preferred to stay at Kut, the Tigris town upriver of Baghdad. But despite his objections he was ordered forward.

By then, the British army had telegraphed its intention long enough for Nurettin to make thorough preparations.

The armies met in November 1915 at the site of the former Sassanid capital Ctesiphon, once the world’s largest city known as “Madain”, or metropolis, by the early Muslims, but now a backwater of Baghdad. It was an appropriate stage for a climactic battle, where the advantage tilted one way and another and nerves frayed.

Rendering of the Ctesiphon arch as it would have appeared in 1916.

At various stages both Townshend and Nurettin contemplated retreat as thousands were killed. However, it was the British army that buckled first, and Townshend fought his way out back to Kut with Nurettin in hot pursuit.

The British garrison in Kut was surrounded and a long siege set in over the winter as British supplies dwindled.

It was a rare moment of Ottoman advantage over Britain, and the Ottoman defense minister Ismail Enver, who had planned the Ottoman coalition against Britain’s Entente the previous year, arrived to soak in the moment.

Enver had spent much of the previous year in a bitter, bloody, and costly war to the north against Russia, whose main “achievement” had been the destruction of the Armenian community in response to a Russian-backed Armenian insurgency. He now replaced Nurettin with veterans of that campaign: firstly his uncle Halil, and secondly an experienced Prussian general recalled from retirement by Germany to help the Ottomans, Colmar Goltz.

If Nurettin had a reputation as a hard man, Halil was positively remorseless in the massacres against the Armenians. But he was tenacious; he had ridden on horseback to Iraq ignoring a serious, untreated injury, and his commitment to the cause was undoubted.

Goltz, for his part, had been advising the Ottoman military for decades, and though he had threatened to resign in order to stop the anti-Armenian slaughter, he was also committed to the Ottoman military, whom he saw as the engine to recover Turkish prestige.

Halil and Goltz took over just as the British army was preparing to counterattack in the new year. In early 1916 the British commanders, Fenton Aylmer and Gorringe, made three enormous attacks on Ottoman lines east of Kut; each one was repelled with thousands of soldiers slain.

Morale in the British army, both inside and outside Kut, sank; the Ottomans helpfully incited Muslim soldiery to defect from the British ranks to join their fellow Muslims; and Townshend, rotting inside Kut, blamed Nixon for ever having sent him toward Baghdad.

Indeed Nixon, whose nerves were shot to pieces, resigned, but his replacement Percy Lake had no more luck in relieving Kut.

Surrender and Aftermath

Even the death of their German taskmaster Goltz, who had spent much of his seventy-odd years with the Turks, did not dampen Ottoman spirits; it was an upbeat Halil and a glum Townshend who met on the Tigris river to arrange the terms of surrender in April 1916.

In the tradition of Ottoman soldiery, Halil was a sporting enemy—he congratulated Townshend on his heroic defense—but quite determined not to let his prey go. Townshend suggested a large financial sum in return for letting the garrison evacuate Iraq, but Halil cheerfully refused what he regarded as a bribe.

Similarly his nephew Enver, still relishing his checkmate of the infamous Kitchener, dismissed the British defense minister’s offer of payment in return for evacuation. When news of these offers spread, it embarrassed Britain greatly; Arnold Wilson, then a soldier and later to hold high office, bitterly complained about “our incredibly stupid attempt to secure by British gold what British military virtue was unable to compass.”

Kitchener would be killed two months later, in the summer of 1916, just before the bloodiest battles of the World War’s Western front. He left a long shadow that loomed not least over the Muslim world and Britain’s conquests therein, among his last experiences the humiliation against a Muslim army at Kut.

Halil would thereafter adopt the town’s name, Kut, as his personal surname. Its British garrison was captured and marched off to Anatolia, many soldiers dying on the route; however, Townshend was given a comfortable imprisonment at Istanbul and, much impressed with his captors’ gentlemanly treatment, would become a firm advocate for an arrangement with the Turks.

That came after Britain, “Kut” down to size by its experience in Iraq, resorted to subterfuge to undermine their Ottoman opponents, an episode that will be the next article in this series in sha Allah.

Related:

Part I | The Decline of the Ottoman Empire

Nationalism And Its Kurdish Discontents [Part I of II]: Kurds In An Ottoman Dusk

The post Kut and Thrust: The Ottoman Victory That Humiliated The British Empire In 1916 appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.