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| Photo: The President's Office file photos/ PSMnews |
As I was riding along the road near Rasfannu Beach, I noticed the usual sounds of life—laughter, people swimming, and children playing. Then suddenly, the mood shifted. I heard shouting from the side of the road. A man was hitting another man.
I usually do not stop for scenes like this. But something inside me asked me to pause—to speak. So I did. I asked them to stop.
Another man came closer and asked what was happening. The angry man said that while he was swimming, the other man, smaller in build, had taken something from his belongings. He had checked his items, then returned and hit the man again. I was not sure what was missing. He still had his phone and wallet, so it must have been something of great value.
Standing there, I felt sorry for both of them.
I did not see anyone steal anything. I cannot judge. But the body language of the smaller man suggested substance use—something many of us sadly recognise in the Maldives today.
Responsibility: One Act, Many Layers
Yes, stealing is wrong. There is no justification for it.
But another question quietly arose in my mind: Are we also responsible for protecting what is entrusted to us?
We are constantly warned—be mindful of your belongings, thefts are increasing. Yet we leave expensive items openly visible while swimming, trusting that nothing will happen. Islam teaches that we are guardians of what we own. Responsibility does not cancel compassion, but it does invite accountability.
Both actions can be wrong at the same time:
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Taking what is not yours is a sin.
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Being careless in a known risk environment is also a form of negligence.
Life is rarely black and white.
From Psychology: The Broken Chain
As I looked at the man accused of stealing, another thought struck me. He is someone’s child.
No parent dreams of raising a child who ends up addicted, stealing, or living on the margins of society. Every parent imagines a future where their child shines. But this is not the reality we are seeing today. Drug use is increasing, and with it, crime, violence, and broken lives.
From a psychological perspective, addiction is rarely about pleasure alone. It is often rooted in:
- Unresolved trauma
- Lack of secure attachment
- Hopelessness
- Social modelling
When people in authority fail morally, the impact multiplies.
When Role Models Become the Problem
Just yesterday, I read the news:
- A police officer was arrested with a large quantity of drugs
- Four men and a woman were arrested for drug-related offences
This raises painful but necessary questions. When those meant to protect society become part of its destruction, what message does that send?
Psychology tells us that behaviour is learned not just through rules, but through models. When corruption exists in law enforcement, it normalises wrongdoing. It tells the public—this is how things work.
And then another question arises: Who is really behind all this?
Drug distribution does not survive without power, networks, and protection. Without influence from higher positions, can drugs move so freely? Who is making profits while others lose their lives?
An Islamic Reminder We Cannot Ignore
Islam reminds us that no injustice goes unanswered. Allah warns repeatedly that wealth gained through harm, deception, and destruction carries no barakah. The Angel of Death will come—without warning. On that day, drug money will not save anyone. Status will not matter. Power will disappear.
How many parents have cried because of these substances?
How many lives have been destroyed?
How many curses have risen silently in the night?
Every soul will be questioned.
“Then you will surely be asked that Day about pleasure.” (Qur’an 102:8)
Greed blinds the heart. It makes people forget accountability. But Islam is clear: we will all stand alone before Allah, responsible not only for what we did, but for what we enabled.
A Hopeful Question to End With
As I left that scene by the beach, one thought stayed with me: What kind of society are we building for our children?
Safety does not come only from laws. It comes from conscience. From responsibility. From leaders who lead by example. From parents who remain present. From communities that refuse to normalise destruction.
These are not accusations, but reflections from what I witnessed, and perhaps reminders to pause and think.
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