Rose-ringed Parakeet
From invasive to indigenous
Surah Al-‘Adiyat, ‘The Chargers’, the one-hundredth chapter of the Qur’an, is perhaps one of the most poetic and mysterious chapters. Before reminding its audience that gratitude is due and truth will be victorious, it starts off by painting an obscure picture: “Oh, the chargers that run panting, sparks of fire striking, rushing to assault at morn, thereby raising clouds of dust, thereby storming [blindly] into any host!” (Qur’an 100:1-5).
These verses have puzzled interpreters of the Qur’an over the centuries. A majority has come to conclude that the verses refer to horses in battle, charging toward an enemy early in the morning. The picture painted by the Qur’an portrays them charging with all their might, panting, raising dust, and sparking fire with their hoofs. Others have interpreted the verses instead as describing the movement of horses or other creatures during pilgrimage or traveling. Still others, like Dr. Khaled Abou El Fadl, have interpreted the verses metaphorically, painting a picture of human psychology and intellectual processes. For him, ‘the chargers’ refer to obsessive and transgressive impulses, actions, and thoughts.
In his interpretation of the chapter, he explains, “I think Surah al-‘Adiyat is an open text. An “open text” is a text in which there are possibilities of meaning.” One of the possibilities of meaning is the literal depiction of horses, another is the metaphorical commentary on human psychology. But there is no need to close the text by depicting one well-conceived interpretation as correct and all others as wrong. By leaving the text open, we can allow for new interpretations to arise as the story of creation continues. In this way, the voice of the Qur’an speaks beyond its limited context, and we, too, may be guided.
A possibility of meaning I would like to add to the discourse is the possibility of Surah al-‘Adiyat as a commentary on the moral challenges of invasive species and indigeneity. This interpretation weaves together the literal and metaphorical traditions of interpretation.
It is estimated that horses first evolved to be a separate species in North America about four million years ago. With the hands of time and the intentional direction of divine destiny, they were created. These first horses spread across the entire American continent and crossed the Bering land bridge to Eurasia and Africa, where they co-evolved with their environments and further formed into donkeys, zebras, and horses. Early humans mostly interacted with these animals by hunting them, until around 2000 BCE, when horses were first domesticated. Their integration into several ancient cultures was rapid and revolutionary. At first, horses were mostly used for transportation and agriculture by pulling loads. By 1000 BCE, they were commonly used in battle by cavalry. Riding technologies, like stirrups, were invented and popularized around the time of the revelation of the Qur’an.
When in the 13th century, the Mongol Empire invaded and dominated much of Eurasia, they did so in large part thanks to their horses and excellent horsemanship. It is easy to see how Surah Al-‘Adiyat might well paint a picture of any of the countless Mongol raids and invasions. But it might also portray a different kind of invasion.
Approximately 11 to 13 thousand years ago, wild horses went extinct in the Americas. This was likely caused by human hunting and competition with bison. When the Spanish colonized large parts of the Americas about five hundred years ago, they brought horses with them, reintroducing these animals to their primordial place of origin after millennia of diaspora. Several horses quickly escaped Spanish control and settled in the wild. Before long, feral horse populations had spread all over the Americas. By the 19th century, there were about two million ‘wild’ horses in the United States, all descendants of domesticated animals from Eurasia and Africa. Some might see this as the return of an indigenous species. But, after millennia of evolution, selective breeding, and ecological changes, these horses no longer played a functional role in the American ecosystems. Rather, they became an invasive species on their ancient ancestral lands.
Reflecting the language of Surah Al-‘Adiyat, the charging of these feral horse populations (Qur’an 100:1) damages landscapes by trampling native vegetation and by overgrazing, “thereby raising clouds of dust” (Qur’an 100:4). At the break of dawn (Qur’an 100:3) these horses set out to claim watering holes and grazing sites, and exhibit aggressive behavior to exclude native elk, bighorn, and sheep from the heart of their native habitat to claim their resources for themselves (Qur’an 100:5). The hoofs of horses do not naturally create sparks when striking against rocks. Only when horses are fitted with metal horseshoes will their running cause fiery sparks, as described in Surah Al-‘Adiyat (Qur’an 100:2). This specific detail in the Qur’anic narrative points to human interference in the natural order of things. The problem of the global corruption of ecosystems by invasive species is caused by colonial greed and human transgression of the natural balance of creation. Only through human interference did horses become invasive. Similarly, the common mushroom called horse hoof fungus (fomes fomentarius), only sparks fire when it is used by human beings as a timber.
There is an overlap between many of the literal and metaphorical readings of Surah Al-‘Adiyat: the theme of invasion and domination. Whether it speaks of invasive thoughts, invasive armies, or invasive species, there is a clear image of domination and seizing held within its words. Perhaps that is why it works so well as an “open text” because it, in essence, deals with one of the greatest sins and struggles of humanity: shirk - worshipping anything but God.
The term ‘domination’ originates from the Latin dominus, meaning ‘master of the house,’ which stems from domus, meaning ‘house.’ When we see the world as our house and ourselves as its master, we become dominant. We seize what we believe to be rightfully ours and imply a regime of ‘my house, my rules.’ Instead, the countless prophets throughout human history, peace be upon them all, have reminded us not to seek to be ‘dominus’, our own lord, but rather to seek to be ‘dominicus’, pertaining to the true Lord of the House. We are called to be servants of the Most Merciful, treading lightly upon the earth, not overstepping the place we have been granted in its delicate balance (Qur’an 25:63). Not invasively charging like feral horses, Mongol cavalries, colonial expeditions, steam trains of the Industrial Revolution, contemporary air raids, or ever-increasing thoughts and wishes for more - for domination.
As much as Surah Al-‘Adiyat paints a picture of the problem in impressionistic obscurity, the picture of the solution is painted in hyperrealism: gratitude, honesty, and accountability (Qur’an 100:6-11). The solution is to turn from dominus to dominicus, from invasive to indigenous.
On many an early morning walk through Amsterdam, as I was making my way to my workplace, I spotted tropical birds in the trees along the canal. A group of Rose-ringed Parakeets was peacefully, though noisily, chatting in a tree. These feral birds likely escaped or were set free in the 1970s and have since thrived in the urban wilderness. As of now, there is an increasing population of around four thousand feral Parakeets in Amsterdam.
The management of invasive species is a very controversial topic amongst birders and ecologists alike, much like interconnected worldwide conversations about colonial legacies. It ought to be clear that striving for domination is, from an Islamic point of view, abhorrent and morally repulsive. But choosing against domination is not the end of the moral challenge. In many ways, it is the beginning. As we strive to serve and preserve the house of creation that we are entrusted with, we are faced with a world that is deeply corrupted, and the great challenge of protecting a fair and natural balance in that house.
Some ecologists call for the complete removal of Rose-ringed Parakeets from the Dutch ecosystem, labeling them as an environmental pest. Others claim that such an undertaking would be both brutal and impossible, and that we simply have to accept that Rose-ringed Parakeets are now a part of Dutch flora and fauna. A third group calls for a middle way, arguing we should manage their presence to ensure the protection of native species, and the Parakeets’ integration in a new natural balance - as has been nature’s way throughout the ages.
As it turns out, the only way to truly eliminate invasive species is to allow them to become indigenous. When we act with humility, accountability, and care, we can help this natural process by protecting vulnerable native species and managing invasive species, as over the generations, creation co-evolves into a new, fair balance. Here, both restorative and affirmative action may at times be necessary, until a new balance settles. All peoples, plants, and animals that now are indigenous had to become indigenous. Guided by the hands of time, they were steered by divine destiny until they no longer dominated but served. Over the generations, they adjusted to their environment in gratitude, finding a proper place in a newly formed balance.
This process of creation is still ongoing. We are simply asked not to further corrupt it and to create space for collective healing. In that way, with gratitude, honesty, and accountability, we may become indigenous once again. But in order to do that, we must be willing to truly inhabit a place - to dare to enter into a meaningful and healthy relationship with our local ecosystems. In that way, my great-grandchildren may live alongside both indigenous Rose-ringed Parakeets and indigenous Mallards in mutual service and care, not domination.