Mental health has been a hot topic in the media for the past few years. Many have chipped in on the relevance of self-care and therapy in a post-pandemic social climate. According to the National Institute of Health, conditions such as anxiety and depression have steadily risen among adolescents in Bangladesh, and similar patterns have been reported worldwide.
However, it is increasingly apparent that this discourse is being led mainly in the Western world.
As a Bangladeshi American teenager, I am often faced with the juxtaposition between an increasing willingness in a Western context to discuss mental health and a stubborn stigma found in desi communities. Mental health is not something easily discussed in many of our homes or acknowledged as a valid aspect of one's well being. This mindset is often presented as religiously motivated, with many of our elders telling us that the answer to any emotional turmoil is to simply turn to our prayers. This can lead to the dangerous notion that the acknowledgement of mental health struggles is, and has been, led exclusively by Western ways of thinking.
I'd be willing to bet that this is what you believe, too. But what if I were to tell you that this could not be further from the case?
Centuries before the first psychiatric asylums were established in the Western world, there were the first psychiatrists, mental institutions, and instances of therapy in the Muslim world. Though being heavily unexplored, there is much to learn from this history on Islam's trailblazing perspective on mental health.
First, we must consider direct examples in the Hadith and Qur'an to grasp the foundation from which early Muslim psychologists worked. The Prophet (SAS) himself was not immune to emotional imbalance, suffering a year-long depression -- “The Year of Sadness” -- after the death of his uncle, Abu Talib, and wife, Khadijah. The truth is, the Prophets (like all Muslims) were human enough to feel emotional imbalance and struggle throughout their lives. Of course, the Qur'an encourages us to look to prayer as a means of relief in such periods.
However, this does not mean that we are meant to disregard all other opportunities for mental aid and advancement. On the contrary, Islam was an early advocate for holistic ways of approaching health. The Prophet (SAS) was reported to have stated “ … seek out cures, for God has placed for every illness a cure.” Early Muslims were directly encouraged to seek out treatment beyond prayer alone.
It is when we put these teachings into practice that the Islamic world entered its Golden Age. In medieval times, Islam's medical field prospered as the earliest diagnoses of anxiety, depression, and psychosis were recorded in bimaristans, or some of the earliest large-scale hospitals. In fact, the world's first psychiatric hospital could have been founded as early as the seventh century in Baghdad, a solid millennium before any in the European world. These hospitals were built in the centre of towns, a far cry from the more recent “out of sight, out of mind” Western mindset in dealing with the mentally ill. Early Muslim scholars were able to view mental illness as incredibly complex and multi-faceted, a combination of biological, environmental, and, at times, spiritual factors. Patients were treated accordingly with our patented holistic approaches
Around this time, polymath Al Kindi published “Repelling the Sorrows,” a guide of cognitive practices to manage depression. “Sustenance of the Body and Soul” by psychologist and scientist Abu Zayd al Balkhi dove into Greek philosophy-inspired methods of what we now call cognitive behavioural therapy.
All this begs the question: Given our rich history in treating mental health, why is it that our community has seemingly regressed in our attitude towards it and others have instead taken the lead?
In re-educating ourselves on the advancements we have made in managing mental health, we can bring honour to our predecessors and awareness to the new generations of modern Muslims. The reality is that mental health is a significant aspect of our daily lives, and as Muslims -- or rather, human beings -- we are not immune.
Deya Nurani is a high school student based in the US.