Head, Islamic Perspectives in Bioethics
Centre for Study and Research, New Delhi
There was a time; “not so long ago”, when a neighbour’s door was seen as a bridge rather than a boundary. In fact, homes were felt like open extensions of each other and a natural sense of community belonging flowed between them. During that time relationships were strengthened through small acts of care, informal check-ins, sharing, and communal celebration. The aroma of freshly cooked food was not confined to single kitchens; regular meals, festive dishes, and wedding featured dishes such as biryani and desserts were exchanged warmly as a gesture of goodwill and affection. At the same time, joys and sorrows were shared across fences, and the laughter of children echoed through open courtyards. Elders in the community watched over the neighbourhood children as if they were their own, gently correcting, guiding, and protecting them. Life was lived in circles of shared trust, not behind closed doors. However, in recent times, this sense of togetherness has swiftly disappeared or, if truth be told, this way of life has faded into our memory and unfortunately our Gen Z has grown completely untouched with this. Doors that were once warmly opened now remain closed, and the silence that fills our neighbourhoods no longer signifies peace but separation.
Nevertheless, we live in an age that claims to be more connected than ever, our WhatsApp communications travel across continents, Instagram stories capture every day moments, and video calls bridge oceans and traverse borders. We now proudly share snapshots of parties, meals, and gatherings with the friends and relatives, yet we seldomly consider the neighbour living just a few feet away and who might be dinning alone. The warmth of shared laughter and fragrance of togetherness have been replaced by filtered images and curated captions. This transformation happened almost imperceptibly. Modern life, with its screens, busy schedules, and a sense of self-sufficiency, replaced face-to-face communications with virtual connections. We scroll through endless feeds, believing that seeing a stranger’s digital “story” is a form of intimacy because it gives the illusion of companionship without the effort of real-time engagement. Seeing glimpses of other lives creates a momentary sense of belonging, although it lacks the depth, warmth, and accountability of true relationships.
Meanwhile, the person next door remains a stranger in real life. We know the preferences of influencers we have never met, yet remain unaware if our neighbour is ill, lonely, hungry or in crisis. In the pursuit of privacy, efficiency, and independence, we have walled ourselves in and called it progress. But beneath this surface comfort lies a quiet loss that runs deep. It’s not just social, it’s spiritual and personal too. As our ties with neighbour’s fade, we lose a sense of belonging. Hearts grow uneasy, loneliness settles in, and the mind begins to feel the weight of isolation.
The Neighbour as a Sociological and Moral Unit
The concept of the neighbour, far exceeding a mere physical proximity; represents a fundamental sociological and theological unit that supports the strength and ethical foundation of any society. Therefore, defining who qualifies as a ‘neighbour’, whether by the spatial proximity of the next forty houses or those within the immediate shared community, is essentially an act of establishing the boundaries of shared responsibility and social capital.
From a sociological perspective, the neighbourhood functions as an important middle ground layer between the realm of the family and the broader, impersonal systems of the government and the marketplace. Sociologists refer to these close-knit communities as Gemeinschaft, a kind of social bond built on trust, familiarity, and personal connection which is very different from the more impersonal and competitive modern society known as Gesellschaft. When neighbourhoods work well, they create what experts call “social capital”, networks of trust and cooperation that make life easier and more meaningful. A strong neighbourhood not only offers practical help in times of need but also provides emotional comfort and a sense of belonging. In this way, the quality of neighbourly ties becomes a mirror of overall health and well-being of a society.
However, this relationship is largely voluntary. People recognise one another as neighbours simply because they inhabit the same street, apartment floor, etc. not necessarily because they feel a shared responsibility. Interaction typically depends on convenience or personal preference instead of any moral obligation. We might wave friendly hello, borrow a tool, or share a meal, but seldom feel responsible and accountable for our neighbour’s happiness or hardship. This mindset also applies beyond our homes. At workplaces, co-workers who spend hours together are frequently treated as professional contacts or business associates rather than neighbours in the moral sense; people to collaborate and cooperate with, but not to care for. In marketplaces, too, the same pattern appears: relationship is mostly transactional and short-lived. From one cart to another cart and from shop to shop, interactions revolve around profit and exchange rather than empathy and concern. Essentially, the rise of urbanisation and the fast pace of digital life have imperceptibly changed the traditional neighbourhood’s concept. Nowadays, privacy, autonomy, and personal space are more valued and prioritised over collective life. As a result, neighbourly relations have become polite yet distant, pleasant gestures without deeper connection. The neighbourhood, once a circle of trust, has slowly turned into a set of closed doors.
While, the Islamic ethical system formalises this sociological necessity into a sacred duty beyond level of proximity and voluntary act. While scholars have offered varying geographical definitions, ranging from the next-door house to forty houses in every direction, or even those who pray in the same local mosque, the consensus is that the definition is largely informed by custom (‘urf) and the spirit of mutual responsibility. The Qur’an explicitly places the neighbour as a central figure in a Muslim’s social obligations, commanding kindness to both the “neighbour who is near of kin” and the “neighbour who is a stranger” (Surah An-Nisa 4:36).
The mandate of Huqooq al-Jaar (Rights of the Neighbour) is a deeply reflective theological injunction and it is so strictly emphasised that the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ even said that the Angel Gabriel kept telling him about Huqooqal-Jarr so much that he thought neighbour might actually get a share in each other’s inheritance. More importantly, this command is notably non-denominational, extending a three-tiered structure of rights that explicitly guarantees dignity, kindness, and protection even to the non-Muslim neighbour (al-Bukhārī in al-Adab al-Mufrad (No. 128), also reported by al-Bayhaqī in Shuʿab al-Īmān). It sets a universal ethical gold standard for living together peacefully. This framework transforms a mere spatial living together into a promise to look out for one another, where avoiding harm, sharing resources and helping one another are not merely social courtesies but integral to true faith. Such mandated reciprocity ensures that no individual within the community’s moral radius is left to suffer in isolation. It creates a sense of psychological security and belonging deeply rooted in one’s faith.
From ‘Mohalla Vision’ to Gated Walls
The defining feature of modern Indian society is the swift, structural migration from the atomised spaces of contemporary urban living. This profound shift represents more than just architectural change; it signifies the erosion of neighbourly obligation, the unspoken, reciprocal duty to watch out for and support those living next door. The traditional Mohalla operated on a principle of deep social cohesion, where the intense, face-to-face contact of the ‘Mohalla Vision’ made everyone known and accountable. Shared spaces, from street corners to tea stalls, ensured constant interaction, weaving a powerful social safety net and fostering mutual aid and resource sharing, effectively buffering residents against psychological distress and isolation.
The contemporary urban model, dominated by gated communities and high-security premises, has enthusiastically embraced privacy and exclusivity, prioritising the autonomy of the individual unit. The shift from joint or extended family structures towards nuclear families is perhaps the most critical social driver. Traditional Indian life was very muchshared, where interdependence was a necessity. Modernity, economic progress, and ideals of modernity have fostered hyper-individualism, where personal space, privacy, and autonomy are prioritised over community obligations. For example, elite apartments, high-security features, individual amenities (private gyms, pools), and soundproofing are marketed as luxuries and created class consciousness. This emphasis on privacy is fundamentally anti-neighbourhood, as it minimises the necessity for shared resource use or spontaneous social crossing. Moreover, it also reduced interdependence as most of the important needs, from childcare (creches) to security (CCTV and guards) to entertainment (streaming services) etc. are outsourced or privatised, the need to rely on neighbours for favours, trust, or mutual aid dissolves. The relationship becomes transactional rather than relational.
While, these structural changes provide the context to certain extent but the primary sociological force driving this retreat is hyper-individualism and politically driven radical polarisation. The modern resident views the neighbourhood not as a supportive primary group, but as a collection of separate, self-sufficient entities. The Mohalla’s guarantee of help is now perceived as an unwelcome intrusion, and the effort for genuine engagement is deemed too high. We effortlessly communicate with friends across continents while remaining deliberately unaware if a neighbour is lonely or ill.
Compounding this retreat from everyday neighbourly life is another powerful force: politically driven radical polarisation, which turns natural differences into reasons for suspicion and withdrawal. In an increasingly charged public sphere, amplified by fragmented media and identity politics, differences across political, religious, or linguistic lines are deliberately weaponised. This environment breeds deep scepticism and fear, transforming neighbours from supportive allies into potential “others.” The walls of the gated community, initially built for physical security and financial exclusivity, now serve as powerful ideological barriers, hardening the divide between “us” and “them.” Residents actively retreat from social engagement lest they encounter conflict or find profound ideological opposition next door, creating a profound, active distrust that the Mohalla’s social controls once mitigated.
The combined psychological cost is devastating. The dual force of self-imposed isolation (individualism) and externalised suspicion (polarisation) removes the informal support systems that once offered resilience. A crisis that was once a communal burden now becomes a purely private, overwhelming struggle. India’s structural progress has been paid for by the loss of its most basic social resource: the supportive, accountable, and trusted presence of the person next door, a phenomenon directly counters to the universal ethics of Huqooq al-Jaar.
How Modern Disconnect Threatens Psychological Well-being
Today we’re witnessing a significant and an unsettling shift in how we build our lives, and it’s pinching a measurable psychological toll on us all. The warm, reciprocal neighbourhood ideal is dissolving not due to a single failure, but because it is being replaced by an invisible and pervasive crisis: the modern necessity of cultivating a fragmented identity. The evidence, drawn from rigorous sociological and psychological research, is clear: the decline of our community’s essential foundation, its social capital and is directly linked to a significant rise in widespread psychological mistrusts across the population.
This crisis originates in the movement away from a unitary, place-based identity. For centuries, who you were was intrinsically tied to the land you worked, the street you lived on, and the people you saw daily. Identity was a cohesive whole, derived from immediate, multi-faceted local relationships. Today’s unprecedented geographic mobility, highly specialised career tracks, and endless digital platforms are in reality compelling us to segment our sense of self across numerous, specialised, and often non-local roles (e.g., professional, digital, consumer, and political affiliations). This need to be many things to many different groups means there is little left to invest in the single group that physically surrounds us.
This fragmentation of identity is quietly crumbling down neighbourhood life, and its effects are unfolding in subtle yet powerful ways. At the heart of this transformation lies the ethos of hyper-individualism, the belief that personal fulfilment and success comes only through radical self-reliance, leading to the rise to the widespread mantra, “My life, My style.” This mindset makes people to invest their finite time and emotional energy into specialised, non-local networks known as “communities of interest.” These digital groups, global affinity tribes, and distant professional organisations are providing a highly customised sense of belonging, which is designed to affirm unique, chosen identities, something that the local physical street with its diverse, messy realities usually cannot offer. As our attention turned inward and towards digital belonging, our reliance on the traditional, multi-faceted, and reciprocal local ties or “communities of place” gradually fades. This leaves us isolated and are forcing to confront life’s inevitable challenges alone, transforming isolation into a breeding ground for chronic stress and performance anxiety.
Apart from this, the ultimate tragedy of hyper-individualism is the loss of basic civic responsibility which weakens the public safety net. In India, this is clearly seen in the widespread reluctance attitude to intervene even during serious public emergencies. Whether it is a common road rage incident escalating to fatal violence, or an act of sexual harassment or assault against women, studies show that bystanders hesitate to intervene or get involved. The primary deterrents remain the fear of legal hassles, unnecessary police harassment, etc. which the fragmented individuals see as an unacceptable personal burden (in terms of wasted time, money, and legal trouble). This reflects that the personal risk outweighs the collective obligation to save a stranger’s life. Choosing not to intervene becomes a calculated act of self-preservation in a society where distrust is the norm, community bonds are weak, and the system fails to reliably protect the altruistic “Good Samaritan.”
Also, when people define their identity based on very specific external factors such as their Job level, political alignment, or lifestyle choice, it creates a psychological and physical divide between socioeconomic groups. We then primarily tend to seek out and interact with those who perfectly mirror our segmented identities. This division actually replaces the important “weak ties” that once bridged different social groups with “strong ties” limited to small, similar circles. The resulting uniformity builds unseen psychological barriers between neighbours, increasing intense anxiety about social status. The constant fear of not fitting into one’s chosen group plus chronic social isolation, can lead to clinical depression.
Moreover, as neighbourhood bonds are already weakened by segmented identities, the influence of radical polarisation from non-local, often hostile, digital affiliations added more harm. Instead of relying on nearby neighbours for mutual support and sharing small resources, we had started to see them through the binary lens of our external, highly charged political or cultural beliefs. This constant feeling of perceived social threat and mistrust activates the brain’s chronic stress response. When the local street corner or public spaces are seen as an arena of potential conflict rather than safe areas, it leads to persistently high levels of stress hormone cortisol, which plays a major role in generalised anxiety disorder.
Research Studies Confirms the Psychological Price
Today we are facing a silent psychological crisis that’s really tied to self-imposed social isolation. As per 2023 Global Burden of Disease (GBD) study, anxiety disorders have risen worldwide by 63% and depressive disorders by 26%. This increase is particularly stark in nations undergoing rapid changes, in India alone, the overall mental health burden nearly doubled from 1990 and 2017, now impacting approximately 197.3 million people. At the heart of this distress lies one most important painful truth: loneliness. It’s more than just feeling sad; it has become one of the most serious threats to psychological well-being. Research studies shows that people who frequent experience loneliness are over 12times more likely to develop suicidal ideation compared to those who are rarely feel that way. Psychologists suggest that prolonged isolation can lead to “thwarted belongingness” which means deep sense of not feeling a valued or connected part of a group, and that is triggering suicidal desire.
While loneliness is growing due to hyper-individualism and other related factors, another force which is intensifying it is social media. In fact, it is acting as a misleading “solution”. Instead of bringing people closer, social media is quietly deepening the divide. The constant comparisons, scrolling, and curated lives foster feelings of inadequacy and low self-worth. Studies consistently reveal that spending over three hours a day online is linked to higher anxiety and depression, especially among teenagers. The damage is even greater in high-pressure environments: a 2023 survey found that 37.2% of Indian medical students reported suicidal thoughts, reflecting the toxic blend of academic stress and digital isolation.
The period of COVID-19 pandemic further exposed this harsh real-world social decay when lockdowns turned millions into isolated individual overnight, stripping away the comforting web of daily human interactions. The mandatory isolation allowed researchers to examine the impact of social disconnect: a study on loneliness during the pandemic found that men nearly five times and women over six times more likely to experience suicidal ideation. And these figures are after subtracting the pre-existing depression cases. This research strongly suggests that isolation itself, regardless of previous mental health concern, is a powerful risk factor.
In short, the way our society is structured today with its division, perpetual conflict, and superficial digital validation, creates an environment that actively works against the innate human need for belonging. We are paying the psychological price in terms of anxiety, depression, and a tragic increase in the risk of self-harm, a fact undeniably confirmed by the research forced into the spotlight during the global pandemic.
How Neglecting Our Neighbours Undermines Faith and Community
In today’s fast-paced, individualistic society, it’s a new normal to live side by side and remain complete strangers, that is why, although we share walls, gates, streets and even the same local groceries shops but prefer to remain completely disconnected from one another. Indeed, for many, this is simply a feature of modern life but for Muslims, however, this situation isn’t just a social issue, it’s a neglect of a sacred command from Allah and His Messenger ﷺ. The seriousness of this duty is clear from the words of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ, when he said Angel Jibrael stressed the rights of neighbour (Huqooq al-Jarr) so much that he was wondering if neighbours might share in inheritance as well. More importantly, the Prophet ﷺ directly connected the safety and well-being of neighbour to the sincerity of our faith (Iman). Essentially, we are urged to question our devotion if our neighbours do not feel safe physically, emotionally, or socially because of us.
Where We’re Going Wrong
We have fallen into a subtle yet serious trap first by reducing our comprehensive faith into a mere ritualistic checklist such as prayer, fasting, and other personal devotions. Our attention has narrowed to what we perceive as the “private” aspects of worship hence we pray in mosques with sincerity, but once outside, our interactions with fellow worshippers usually turn indifferent. Faith becomes something we perform, not something we live. This separation shrinks a complete way of life into isolated moments of worship, leaving our community spirit untouched by our spirituality. In doing so, we weaken the very moral fabric that Islam came to strengthen. By neglecting the rights of neighbours, we reduce divine commands into abstract ideals, admired in sermons, forgotten in practice.
The irony is painful; by ignoring our neighbours, we embody the very social apathy we criticise. We are no longer just bystanders in a disconnected world rather we are contributors to it. Islam’s beauty is meant to be seen not only in our prayers, but in our kindness that begins right next door.
The Way Forward: Rebuilding the Broken Bond
Islam has already given us the solution. We don’t need to create any new social model, instead, need to exemplify social kindness, guided by a timeless divine directive to care for all neighbours. And when we are entrusted with distinct moral framework, we must ask ourselves; if we neglect to show kindness, compassion and support even to those closest to us, how effectively are we showcasing the transformative power of our faith? Our failure to be a source of compassion and unity is entirely our very own responsibility. Yes, prayer is essential; however, assisting others is also a form of worship. Islam encourages us to give not just our money, but our time, presence, and effort to those around us. This can be exemplified through acts such as visiting elderly neighbours who are spending their time alone; providing a meal to a single mother down the street, helping in neighbourhood clean-up initiatives, or volunteering in community programmes that serve everyone irrespective of social or religious boundaries.
The Qur’an reminds us; Worship Allah and associate nothing with Him, and be good to parents, relatives, orphans, the needy, the near neighbour, the distant neighbour…” (Quran 4:36). So, social obligation is not optional, rather a command and the care is universal; it applies to both Muslims and non-Muslims, irrespective of age, race, gender or social status and to those nearby or even those we barely know.
This can be achieved by transforming our Masjids into beacons of service for the entire neighbourhood, becoming a safe space, especially in challenging situations, through increasing community food banks, hosting neighbourhood gatherings, tutoring, language classes, establishing small technical training centres and other support services for those who are in need.
When people, Muslim or not, feel safe, helped, and respected by Muslims, they witness Islam in action, not just in words.
Final Thoughts: Faith in Action
The Prophet ﷺ didn’t win people’s hearts through long speeches or debates, he won them through his kindness, honesty, and care for others, especially his neighbours.
If our neighbours today don’t feel that from us, we need to ask ourselves: Are we truly living our faith?
Rebuilding the bond with our neighbours is not a small side issue. It’s at the heart of what it means to be a Muslim. It’s how we bring faith from the prayer mat to the sidewalk. It’s how we build stronger communities and prove through our actions that Islam is a religion of mercy, connection, and care.
It starts with a knock on the door. A smile. A shared meal. A simple, sincere question:“How are you doing today?”
Let’s start living the Sunnah with our neighbours, and in doing so, bring life back to our faith and unity back to our communities.