The death of Marjane Satrapi has prompted an outpouring of grief among Iranians around the world, particularly among women who saw their own experiences reflected in the acclaimed author and artist’s work.

Satrapi, best known for her graphic memoir “Persepolis,” became one of the most influential interpreters of modern Iranian life for international audiences. Through her writing and illustrations, she chronicled the consequences of revolution, war, exile and cultural displacement while challenging prevailing Western perceptions of Iran and its people.

For many Iranian women who came of age during the years following the 1979 Iranian Revolution and later settled in Europe or North America, Satrapi’s work served as both recognition and validation.

Her stories captured experiences that many readers had struggled to explain to those around them, particularly in societies where Iran was often viewed through political or security-related narratives.Born in Rasht in 1969 and raised in Tehran, Satrapi grew up in a secular and politically engaged family.

Her childhood coincided with one of the most consequential periods in modern Iranian history. The 1979 revolution transformed the country’s political system and introduced sweeping social restrictions, particularly affecting women.

The years that followed were marked by political repression, the imprisonment and execution of dissidents, and the Iran-Iraq War.In 1983, Satrapi’s parents sent her to Vienna to continue her education. The move exposed her to the challenges of exile at a young age.

She later returned to Iran, studied visual communication, married and divorced before eventually relocating to France, where she developed the body of work that would earn her international recognition.Her breakthrough came with “Persepolis,” a graphic memoir that recounted her childhood in revolutionary Iran and her experiences abroad.

First published in English in the United States in 2003, the work introduced many readers to a deeply personal account of life behind headlines that often reduced Iran to geopolitical tensions and ideological conflict.The book resonated strongly with members of the Iranian diaspora.

Through simple black-and-white illustrations and concise storytelling, Satrapi depicted everyday realities that many Iranian readers immediately recognized. Family gatherings, domestic spaces, generational conflicts, state surveillance, religious restrictions and the emotional strain of separation from loved ones were presented with a level of specificity that transcended cultural boundaries.

Her portrayal of exile was particularly significant. Rather than presenting migration as a straightforward path to freedom or success, Satrapi explored its psychological costs, including loneliness, identity struggles and the persistent feeling of existing between two worlds.

These themes connected with readers who had experienced displacement and who often felt misunderstood in their adopted countries.The success of “Persepolis” also transformed Satrapi into a prominent public voice on Iranian society and culture. As international interest in Iran grew, she frequently found herself addressing misconceptions about the country and its people.

Through interviews, essays and public appearances, Satrapi argued that Western audiences often failed to distinguish between the Iranian government and Iranian society. She repeatedly emphasized the diversity, complexity and modernity of Iranian life, pushing back against portrayals that depicted the country as culturally static or isolated from contemporary global realities.

Her later works continued this effort. In the graphic novel “Embroideries,” published in 2003, Satrapi turned her attention to the private lives of Iranian women. The book centers on conversations among women gathered for tea, discussing relationships, sexuality, marriage and social expectations.

By focusing on intimate and often humorous exchanges, Satrapi highlighted dimensions of Iranian society that were rarely visible to international audiences. The stories explored subjects including gender roles, social pressures, personal disappointment and resilience.

The work challenged stereotypes by presenting Iranian women as individuals with distinct voices, desires and perspectives rather than as passive subjects defined solely by political restrictions.Two decades later, Satrapi again addressed international perceptions of Iran in the aftermath of the protests triggered by the death of Mahsa Amini in 2022.

The demonstrations, associated with the slogan “Woman, Life, Freedom,” became one of the most significant challenges to the Iranian authorities in recent years.In 2023, Satrapi published a graphic collection examining the protests and the broader political context in which they emerged.

She described the experience of many Iranian women of her generation as a “split life,” in which private and public identities often diverged because of social and political constraints.

According to Satrapi, younger generations increasingly rejected that dual existence. She argued that many young Iranians sought the freedom to express themselves openly through their clothing, music, writing and personal beliefs without navigating separate identities for public and private life.

Throughout her career, Satrapi consistently resisted efforts to simplify either Iran or the experiences of Iranians abroad. In interviews, she criticized what she described as persistent Western misunderstandings and prejudices. She argued that representations of Iran in film and media frequently overlooked the complexity of contemporary urban life and reduced the country to familiar cultural clichés.

Her observations resonated with readers who believed that discussions about Iran often failed to reflect the realities of everyday life. By combining personal narrative with political context, Satrapi created a body of work that appealed both to general audiences and to those seeking a more nuanced understanding of Iranian society.

Beyond questions of politics and national identity, Satrapi also wrote and spoke about personal autonomy, particularly for women. In later interviews, she challenged social expectations surrounding marriage and motherhood, arguing that a woman’s value should not be defined by traditional roles.

She maintained that fulfillment and identity could exist independently of societal assumptions about family life.For many readers, that perspective reflected the same independence and candor that characterized her artistic work.

Across memoir, fiction, political commentary and public advocacy, Satrapi consistently emphasized individual freedom, self-definition and intellectual honesty.Her death has renewed attention to a legacy that extended far beyond literature and graphic storytelling.

Through her work, Satrapi provided a framework for understanding the experiences of exile, cultural displacement and resistance to repression.

She offered international audiences a more complex portrait of Iran while giving countless Iranian readers a sense that their own stories, struggles and contradictions could be seen and understood.

Venezuelan photographer Silvana Trevale has released a photography book focused on the lives and identities of young people in Venezuela, presenting an alternative visual narrative to the country’s prolonged political and economic crisis.

The book, titled Venezuelan Youth, compiles photographs produced between 2016 and 2025 and has been published by guesteditions. The project documents children and adolescents across Venezuela through portraits, street photography and collaborative visual work intended to reflect social resilience, cultural continuity and everyday life.

Trevale said the project emerged from a personal effort to reconnect with her country after leaving Venezuela during a period of deepening instability. According to the photographer, repeated visits back to Venezuela over several years shaped both the emotional and artistic direction of the work.

The photographer said she wanted to move beyond images that focus exclusively on violence, economic hardship or institutional collapse, while still acknowledging the realities affecting Venezuelan society. “Photojournalism is important but I also wanted to break away from any harsh kind of imagery, without dismissing the problems,” Trevale said.

The GuardianHer comments reflect broader debates within documentary photography over the representation of countries facing prolonged crises. Venezuela has experienced years of economic contraction, shortages of food and medicine, mass migration and political instability. International coverage has often centered on humanitarian conditions and political conflict.

Trevale said her project aimed to document experiences that exist alongside those conditions, particularly among younger Venezuelans. She said the work focused on personal interactions and everyday encounters with children and adolescents, as well as visual expressions of local traditions and community life.“Our identity isn’t only defined by the crisis,” Trevale said. “All of us, whether we stayed or left, are marked by the crisis. It’s part of who we are, especially for my generation, who grew up with it.”

The GuardianAccording to publication materials released by Guest Editions, the book was conceived as a response to portrayals of Venezuela that emphasize collapse while overlooking the persistence of social and cultural life. The publisher described the work as an attempt to document “the complexities of Venezuelan identity as seen through the eyes of its youth.”

The volume contains 176 pages, including 93 colour plates, and was designed by Ricardo Báez. It was published in hardcover format in May 2026. Guest Editions +2Trevale said the project evolved gradually over nearly a decade. In its early stages, she said she did not actively pursue specific images, instead allowing encounters and situations to develop organically during her visits to coastal areas and urban neighbourhoods.

One image that became central to the project depicts two boys walking through a forest populated by vultures near Playa Medina in Venezuela. Trevale described the photograph as an attempt to capture “something between this harsh reality and a feeling of innocence”. She said the image helped shape the broader direction of the project over the following years.

As the project expanded, Trevale said she began collaborating with Venezuelan creative professionals interested in preserving aspects of national identity through visual culture. Fashion, music and traditional dance became recurring elements in the work.Among the traditions documented in the book is the Joropo, a musical and dance form widely associated with Venezuelan cultural heritage.

Trevale said she viewed the inclusion of such material as part of a wider effort to record traditions she believes risk being overlooked or diminished amid the country’s continuing upheaval. The project also includes portraits linked to Venezuela’s youth music programmes. Trevale recounted photographing a young trumpet player named Roberta during a Vogue Latin America assignment in Caracas.

According to Trevale, the girl participated in “El Sistema”, Venezuela’s internationally known youth orchestra initiative. Founded in 1975, El Sistema developed into one of Venezuela’s most prominent cultural institutions, using music education and orchestral training as a social development programme for children and adolescents.

The initiative later gained international recognition through conductors and musicians including Gustavo Dudamel. BooksTrevale said her work sought to balance documentation of hardship with depictions of dignity, connection and continuity. She described the project as shaped by both personal loss and long-term attachment to Venezuela.“I am hoping the book brings that back to young people, to remind them that we’re strong and resilient, and to celebrate our traditions and our people,” she said.

“I never want to forget where I come from — and this book is my love letter to Venezuela.” The release of Venezuelan Youth comes amid continuing international attention on Venezuela’s political and economic trajectory, as well as ongoing migration from the country.

Cultural producers and publishers inside and outside Venezuela have increasingly used books, exhibitions and digital media projects to document social experiences beyond conventional political reporting.The book is currently being distributed internationally through Guest Editions and other booksellers.

The Rohang Heritage Center, established in Camp 6 and funded by Bangladeshi authorities in February, was launched as more than 1.3 million Rohingya refugees continue to live across 33 camps in southeastern Bangladesh amid stalled efforts to repatriate them to Myanmar.

The center contains more than 200 items, including historical maps, newspaper clippings, books, photographs and recordings of the Rohingya language.
Mizanur Rahman, Bangladesh’s refugee relief and repatriation commissioner in Cox’s Bazar, said the collection was assembled from materials carried into Bangladesh by Rohingya refugees during successive waves of displacement from Myanmar.

“The items have been collected from old newspaper clippings, books published on Rohingya history, and various historical documents,” Rahman said, adding that the initiative aims to help younger Rohingya reconnect with their ethnic and cultural heritage.

The Rohingya, a predominantly Muslim minority from Myanmar’s Rakhine State, have faced decades of discrimination and statelessness. Hundreds of thousands fled to Bangladesh following a military crackdown in 2017, adding to earlier refugee populations that had crossed the border over previous decades.

Bangladesh and the United Nations have repeatedly sought to facilitate the voluntary return of refugees to Myanmar, but the process has remained largely frozen amid political instability and armed conflict. Conditions deteriorated further after Myanmar’s military seized power in 2021, while fighting between junta forces and the Arakan Army in Rakhine State has intensified since 2024.

Camp administrator Gazi Shariful Hasan, who initiated the heritage project, said a central objective was to collect official Myanmar documents issued before 1989 that identified holders as Rohingya, preserving evidence of state recognition before citizenship rights were effectively withdrawn.

According to Hasan, the center includes civil records, political archives and profiles of Rohingya figures who once participated in Myanmar’s national political life, including former members of parliament.
“Of course, no government would allow foreign nationals to serve in its parliament, which indicates that the Myanmar government previously recognized this ethnic population,” Hasan said.

The exhibits also document the community’s intellectual, religious and cultural history, including biographies of prominent Rohingya Islamic scholars and archival material related to mosques in Rakhine State.

One section features photographs of 25 mosques built in the early 19th century in Rakhine. Organizers said many of the structures have since been destroyed, making historical photographs among the few remaining records of their existence.

The center is operated by Rohingya volunteers and serves both as a cultural archive and an educational resource for younger refugees, many of whom have spent most or all of their lives in camps and have limited access to formal education.

Bangladeshi officials said preserving cultural memory remains important as uncertainty persists over the timing and conditions for any future repatriation process.

At 45, a Kashmiri homemaker who spent more than two decades raising three children says motherhood reshaped every aspect of her life, from personal ambition to daily survival, reflecting the largely undocumented experiences of women who sustained households through economic hardship and political unrest in the region.

Speaking during an interview conducted on International Mother’s Day, she described a life marked by early marriage, domestic responsibility and long-term sacrifice. Married at the age of 19, she said she had been employed at an endowment institution before her marriage, but was later unable to continue working after entering her husband’s household.

Her account illustrates the social realities faced by many women in conservative and rural communities across Jammu and Kashmir during the 1990s and early 2000s, where marriage often ended formal employment opportunities for women despite educational qualifications or work experience.

“I was young when I got married,” she said. “After marriage, my responsibilities changed completely.”

According to her account, the family lived in conditions of financial hardship during the early years of marriage. She worked alongside extended family members in agricultural fields while simultaneously caring for her first child. She recalled carrying the infant with her while working outdoors, relying on assistance from female relatives during long working hours.

The woman said motherhood altered her emotional priorities soon after the birth of her first child. “My love shifted from my family toward my first child,” she said, describing motherhood as a transition that demanded constant emotional and physical commitment.

Her eldest child, who conducted the interview, described her as the “cornerstone” of the family and credited her with sustaining household stability despite economic limitations. The family marks 24 years since she became a mother.

Throughout those years, she remained a full-time homemaker, managing domestic responsibilities that included childcare, cooking, maintaining the household and supporting her husband’s work schedule. The family home eventually expanded into a 10-room residence, which she continues to maintain largely on her own, according to the interview.

Despite never returning to formal employment, she continued informal educational engagement within the household. Fluent in Urdu, she regularly read Urdu moral literature and narrated stories to her children, using them as a tool for discipline and moral instruction.

Her children said those stories became central to their upbringing and helped shape their understanding of behaviour, honesty and family responsibility. “She taught us good habits through stories,” her child said during the interview.One memory recalled during the conversation involved a school morning when a child had forgotten to polish shoes before leaving home.

According to the account, she cleaned the shoes herself using her scarf so the child could attend school properly dressed.The episode, though minor, was presented by family members as representative of the routine, largely invisible labour performed by mothers within households.

Across South Asia, domestic work performed by women remains economically unrecognised despite contributing substantially to household functioning and caregiving structures, according to multiple studies by development agencies and labour economists.

In Kashmir, women have historically played dual roles in both domestic and agricultural sectors, particularly in rural districts where families depended on subsistence farming and seasonal labour. The woman interviewed said she frequently balanced field work with domestic responsibilities during the family’s most financially difficult years.

She also linked her experience of motherhood to the wider political instability in Kashmir. Having lived through decades of unrest in the region, she said she deliberately chose neutrality and restraint while focusing on protecting her household from the psychological strain of conflict.

“Being calm was important,” she said. “There was already enough unrest outside.”

The family described her approach as disciplined and emotionally controlled, even during periods of stress. Her child said she learned over time “to fight, not flight,” a phrase used to describe her ability to endure personal difficulties without withdrawing from family responsibilities.

Her physical appearance now reflects years of labour and age, according to the interview. Grey hair and visible wrinkles have appeared, yet her routine remains physically demanding. Family members said she continues to work daily in the kitchen garden, prepare meals, iron clothes and organise household tasks for the family.

“She still works continuously,” her child said. “Even today she handles the house, takes care of our father and prepares everything for us.”

The interview also addressed changing definitions of women’s empowerment in contemporary Indian society. While public discussions around empowerment often focus on education, employment and financial independence, the family argued that domestic labour and caregiving should also be recognised within those conversations.

“Empowerment is not only moving outside the home,” her child said. “It is also about how a woman turns a house into a home.”

The statement reflects an ongoing debate within Indian social discourse about the visibility and valuation of unpaid domestic work. According to data from the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) and Indian time-use surveys, women in India spend substantially more hours on unpaid household labour than men, particularly in rural regions.

In this case, the woman’s contribution remained centred inside the household rather than through salaried employment. Yet family members said her role shaped the educational and moral foundation of all three children.

Although the children said they have not yet fully achieved their professional goals, they credited their upbringing and discipline to their mother’s consistency and guidance. “The morals she provided are difficult to explain,” her child said. “She is extraordinary.”

The woman’s life also reflects generational patterns among Kashmiri mothers who came of age before broader educational and employment opportunities became accessible to women in many parts of the region. While literacy and school participation among women in Jammu and Kashmir improved significantly over the past two decades, many women from earlier generations remained confined largely to domestic roles after marriage.

Despite those limitations, the woman interviewed said she never viewed motherhood solely as sacrifice. Instead, she described it as continuous work requiring patience, emotional control and adaptation.

“There were times we were hurt by our children,” she said. “But with time, I learned how to handle everything.”

Her account suggests an understanding of motherhood rooted less in idealism than endurance. Rather than describing dramatic events, she focused on repetitive daily responsibilities that accumulated over decades: preparing meals, managing finances during periods of poverty, caring for children during illness and maintaining emotional stability inside the household.

The interview concluded without expressions of regret regarding the opportunities she lost after marriage. Instead, she described satisfaction in seeing her children raised with education, discipline and social values.

Within the household, family members said she remains the central organising force even as the children enter adulthood. Her work, though informal and unpaid, continues to structure the family’s daily life.

“She made the house feel like heaven,” her child said.

In May 2026, Puerto Rican artist Angel Otero is preparing to unveil a new body of work in Somerset, following his recent collaboration with global music figure Bad Bunny.

The exhibition, titled Agua Salada (Salt Water), reflects a shift toward more personal themes in Otero’s practice, drawing directly on memories of his childhood and family life in Puerto Rico.

Otero, 45, described his participation in Bad Bunny’s “La Casita” stage installation during the musician’s 31-show residency on the island as both a professional milestone and a personal moment of recognition. The set recreated a single-storey home typical of Puerto Rican and wider Latin American communities.

According to Otero, the environment closely resembled the domestic spaces that have long informed his work, reinforcing his focus on cultural memory and identity.Born in Santurce, a neighbourhood in San Juan, Otero spent much of his childhood in Bayamón with his grandmother, Maria Luisa.

He described his upbringing as shaped largely by female family members, with his mother working full-time and male relatives largely absent. The domestic interiors of that period, including furniture, decorative objects and photographs, have served as recurring motifs in his paintings for nearly two decades.

Otero’s artistic development began during his studies in Chicago, where he experimented with unconventional techniques to reinterpret traditional oil painting. He developed a process involving “paint skins,” in which layers of dried paint are formed on surfaces such as Perspex and later transferred to canvas.

This method produces textured, layered compositions that combine elements of painting, collage and sculpture. The approach, initially driven by resource constraints, became central to his visual language and has been widely associated with his work.The current exhibition marks a departure toward more explicit representation. Among the works is a large-scale diptych based on a photograph of Otero as a child with his grandmother.

The composition presents the figures from two perspectives, partially obscured by layered paint, creating a visual tension between clarity and fragmentation. According to Otero, this approach reflects the instability of memory and the passage of time.Themes of family, loss and personal transition are central to the exhibition.

Otero cited his evolving role as a father and the illness of his own father as influences on the new work. His grandmother, who played a significant role in his upbringing, died several years ago, and her presence continues to shape his artistic narrative. He described these experiences as “layers of life” that inform both subject matter and technique.

The exhibition also introduces recurring architectural elements, including doors and staircases, which Otero uses as symbolic devices. One painting depicts a door opening onto an undefined space, while a sculptural installation at Hauser & Wirth Somerset extends this motif into three dimensions.

These elements, according to the artist, relate to ideas of transition, access and personal boundaries.Water imagery is a dominant feature throughout the exhibition. The title Agua Salada references salt water as both a physical and metaphorical element, associated with the sea surrounding Puerto Rico as well as emotional states such as grief and resilience.

Otero described the motif as representing both erosion and healing, reflecting the dual nature of memory and time.Otero has been working in Somerset for several weeks, using a temporary studio to complete the exhibition. During this period, he engaged with the local community, noting similarities between social spaces in the area and those in San Juan.

He referenced time spent in local establishments as part of his process of situating the work within a broader context of place and belonging.The artist also described a personal ritual associated with completing a body of work. On the night before paintings are transported for exhibition, he spends time alone in the studio, often with music and wine, as a form of closure.

This practice, he said, allows him to reflect on the process and acknowledge the transition from private creation to public display.Otero indicated that the exhibition represents a point of alignment between his personal narrative and professional practice.

While earlier works approached identity indirectly through objects and interiors, the current series incorporates more direct references to his life experiences.He described this shift as part of an ongoing process of engaging with vulnerability within the context of the art world.

Intellectual forums play a vital role in this evolution by offering spaces where ideas, identities and philosophies are explored with openness and depth.

Philosophy, often viewed as abstract, is in fact central to how civilizations define modernization and negotiate rapid global change.

It influences how people evaluate growth, question identity and consider the moral implications of shifting toward a more interconnected world.

By examining the philosophical foundations of national narratives, societies gain clarity on why certain developmental paths are embraced while others are resisted.

This reflection becomes crucial in regions seeking to balance tradition with innovation, especially as global expectations continue to shift.

Saudi Arabia illustrates this balance by grounding its development in both heritage and a forward-looking intellectual culture.

The annual Philosophy Forum in Riyadh gathers thinkers from across the world to discuss ideas that enrich cultural understanding and expand public discourse.

During the forum, scholars explored questions of truth, relativism and cultural constants.

Some argued that while scientific knowledge evolves, ethical principles remain steady and guide societal stability across generations.

Experts highlighted that core values such as respect, honesty and integrity cannot be altered by changing contexts.

They emphasized that philosophy originally emerged to solve social problems and continues to provide tools for addressing contemporary challenges.

Saudi Arabia’s investment in philosophical discussions reflects a broader vision that development includes both spiritual and material dimensions.

This dual focus encourages a deeper understanding of human experience in an era increasingly shaped by artificial intelligence and digital systems.

Participants pointed out that global modernization often emphasizes the physical world—engineering, technology and automation—while neglecting the inner human dimension.

Philosophy helps restore balance by reinforcing moral reasoning, human empathy and ethical awareness.

The forum also highlighted emerging fields such as AI ethics, science and technology studies and renewed interpretations of Arab philosophical heritage.

These areas are becoming essential as societies navigate shared decision-making with machines and evaluate how technology reshapes human identity.

Scholars stressed the importance of revisiting Arab philosophical traditions through modern frameworks rather than seeing them as static or secondary to Western thought.

Contemporary analysis allows these ideas to evolve, interact with global conversations and shape new models for intellectual growth.

International participation in the conference helps correct misconceptions surrounding Arab philosophy.

Instead of viewing it as an extension of ancient schools, global thinkers are now recognizing its dynamic, relevant and innovative contributions.

Presenters noted that Arab philosophical heritage continues to influence ethical questions, scientific inquiry and concepts of human purpose.

By presenting these ideas through dialogue, critique and comparative study, forums enable the region’s intellectual legacy to be understood on its own terms.

Philosophy encourages individuals to engage more deeply with their surroundings, to question, to reflect and to expand their understanding of the world.

Every inquiry becomes a step toward greater cultural awareness and collective progress.

Many scholars believe the Arab region is positioned to reclaim its historic role in producing influential knowledge.

With supportive environments and modern platforms, its researchers can shape global conversations that extend beyond regional boundaries.

Intellectual forums such as the one in Riyadh show that philosophy remains an active force in society.

They demonstrate how ideas can guide development, inspire curiosity and help build a future rooted in both wisdom and innovation.

In partnership with the Heritage Commission and the Royal Institute of Traditional Arts, the program has provided an opportunity for 15 Saudi students to actively participate in the restoration of historic mosques across the country.

This initiative not only safeguards valuable heritage sites but also equips young Saudis with traditional craftsmanship skills that are vital to maintaining the nation’s cultural legacy.

The students are taking part in a six-month field training program designed to teach traditional mud-brick construction and woodworking techniques under the guidance of specialized Saudi engineers and restoration experts.

Their hands-on involvement ensures that heritage preservation becomes a living educational experience, connecting students directly with their country’s deep architectural traditions.

Another 15 students are set to join the program in the coming days, extending the training into early 2026, further enriching the pool of skilled artisans capable of contributing to heritage conservation.

The program is organized into two key training tracks. The first focuses on traditional construction methods, allowing students to learn the craft of mud-brick building—a technique used for centuries in Saudi architecture.

Through practical modules, trainees gain experience restoring historic mosques using authentic materials, ensuring that the renovations remain faithful to original designs.

Each project is carried out under expert supervision, guaranteeing both historical accuracy and structural integrity.

The second training track centers on the art of crafting traditional Najdi doors, an important element of Saudi architectural identity.

Students are trained in carpentry, carving, and wood production techniques that have been passed down through generations.

This component of the program aims to preserve and revive the craftsmanship that defines Najdi-style architecture, ensuring that this ancient art continues to flourish in modern times.

The Mohammed bin Salman Project for the Development of Historical Mosques has already achieved impressive milestones. During its first phase, 30 mosques were restored across 10 regions, and in the second phase, another 30 mosques were completed in 13 additional regions.

Each restoration reflects the project’s dedication to preserving authenticity while incorporating modern sustainability practices. By reviving historic mosques, the initiative breathes new life into communities and creates spaces where history, faith, and culture coexist harmoniously.

The project’s overarching vision is to revive traditional architectural styles, raise public awareness of their cultural significance, and balance heritage preservation with contemporary building standards.

These efforts align closely with Saudi Arabia’s Vision 2030, which emphasizes cultural sustainability, national identity, and the integration of heritage into modern life.

The initiative underscores the Kingdom’s commitment to preserving its architectural authenticity while ensuring that restored mosques remain functional for worship and community gatherings.

Guided by four main objectives, the project aims to prepare historical mosques for worship, restore their original architectural character, highlight Saudi Arabia’s rich cultural heritage, and enhance the Kingdom’s religious and cultural stature globally.

These goals reflect the Kingdom’s broader dedication to showcasing the beauty of its historical identity while promoting education, craftsmanship, and innovation among its citizens.

The involvement of Saudi students adds an inspiring educational dimension to the program. It transforms heritage conservation into an interactive learning process that connects young people to their history, fosters national pride, and encourages them to carry forward traditional building knowledge.

This hands-on experience also supports the Kingdom’s strategy of developing local talent capable of leading future restoration and sustainability projects.

Through initiatives like this, Saudi Arabia continues to demonstrate how heritage preservation can go hand in hand with youth empowerment, cultural innovation, and sustainable development.

The Mohammed bin Salman Project for the Development of Historical Mosques stands as a model of how nations can protect their historical treasures while building skills and opportunities for future generations.

This might come as a surprise, maybe even a shock to some, but neither the crescent nor the star has any basis as an Islamic religious symbol.

Ask almost any Pakistani today, or even many Muslims across the world, what the crescent and star on the Pakistani flag mean, and you’ll probably hear a confident answer: “They are Islamic symbols!”

But here’s the truth — they are not.

This might come as a surprise, maybe even a shock to some, but neither the crescent nor the star has any basis as an Islamic religious symbol. Not in the Quran, not in the teachings of Prophet Mohammed, and not even among the early generations of Muslims.

In fact, according to a clear ruling from IslamQA, one of the most respected Saudi fatwa (Islamic ruling) portals, the crescent and star have no roots in Islamic teachings whatsoever.

When someone asked on IslamQA (Question No: 1528): “What is the symbolism behind the Muslim star and crescent?”

The scholars answered clearly: “There is no basis in Shari`ah for taking the crescent or star as a symbol of the Muslims. This was not known at the time of the Prophet (peace and blessings of Allah be upon him), or at the time of the Khulafa Al-Rashidun, or during the Umayyad dynasty.”

They went on to explain that historians disagree on exactly when Muslims started using these symbols. Some say they came from the Persians, others say from the Greeks. What’s certain is that it wasn’t the Muslims who invented it, and it definitely wasn’t something the Prophet Mohammad or his companions endorsed.

A Symbol Borrowed, Not Revealed

So where did the crescent and star actually come from?

Long before Islam even appeared, civilizations like the Greeks, Romans, and Persians were already using the crescent and star in their emblems, coins, and banners. In fact, around 300 BC, the Greek colony of Byzantium (which later became Constantinople, and eventually Istanbul) used the crescent in its city flag. Later, the famous Pontic king Mithridates VI adopted the crescent and star combination as a royal emblem after he took control of Byzantium for a brief period.

Fast forward a few centuries: The Persian Sassanian Empire, long before Islam, minted coins bearing the crescent and star. And when early Muslim rulers conquered Persia, they initially continued using the same coin designs — not out of religious endorsement, but simply because they were replicating existing currency systems.

Later, during the rise of the mighty Ottoman Empire, the crescent and star became closely tied with Muslim identity, not through divine instruction but through politics and imperial symbolism. The Ottoman flag of 1844 — a white crescent and star on a red background — became a powerful emblem of their rule.

When Turkey modernized in the 20th century, they kept the crescent-star motif, and many Muslim countries — like Pakistan, Pakistan-Occupied Kashmir, Malaysia, Tunisia, Algeria — incorporated it into their national flags too.

Why Some Muslims Think It’s Islamic

Because the Ottoman Empire was seen for centuries as the seat of the Islamic caliphate, the association between their state symbol and Islam grew stronger in people’s minds. Over time, many Muslims — especially during the nationalist and Islamist movements of the 20th century — started embracing the crescent and star as “Islamic.”

But let’s be clear: This connection is cultural, not religious.

Unlike the cross in Christianity — which directly symbolizes Jesus’ crucifixion — there is no divine event, revelation, or command linking Islam with the crescent and star.

It’s just a case of history blending with perception.

Theological Reality: Stars and Moons Are Just Creation

In Islam, celestial bodies like the moon and stars are indeed respected — but as creations of God, not as sacred symbols.

Islamic teachings emphasize that the moon and stars have no power to influence our fate, bring blessings, or cause harm. They are signs of God’s creative power, nothing more. Worship or reverence is strictly reserved for God alone.

Thus, attaching sacred meaning to the crescent and star, treating them as holy, or reacting angrily if someone “disrespects” them, is simply not part of Islamic belief.

So, Is It a Sin to Walk Over a Crescent and Star Symbol?

Absolutely not.

Since neither the crescent nor the star are Islamic symbols, walking over them, wearing them on socks, printing them on T-shirts, or even using them in decorative ways is not a sin or an act of rebellion against God.

If someone feels emotional about it out of patriotism — for instance, feeling hurt if the Pakistani flag is trampled — that’s understandable as a matter of national pride for Pakistanis alone, but it’s not a religious issue for all Muslims.

God has not commanded us to venerate flags or symbols. His command is to worship Him.

A Call for Clear Thinking

In today’s world, where misinformation spreads easily, it’s crucial for Muslims to stay anchored in authentic knowledge rather than cultural myths.

Islam is a faith of clarity, not confusion. Our symbols are not man-made designs but eternal truths: Belief in God and righteous deeds.

So the next time you see a crescent and star, appreciate their beauty, admire their history, recognize their role in culture and heritage — but don’t mistake them for something they’re not.

Our strength as Muslims lies in knowledge, truth, and clear understanding, not in clinging to symbols that history accidentally handed down to us.