This simple truth is the essence of my message to Muslims

Hear now the words of Tariq Ramadan, who speaks with the cadence of both scholar and sage: “This simple truth is the essence of my message to Muslims throughout the world: know who you are, who you want to be, and start talking and working with whom you are not. Find common values and build with fellow citizens a society based on diversity and equality.” These words, though addressed to one community, carry a universal wisdom for all peoples and all times. For they remind us that identity must not lead to isolation, and difference must not breed division. The true strength of a society is forged when its many voices find harmony without erasing their uniqueness.

First, mark the call to “know who you are, who you want to be.” Identity is the root of all human striving. A tree without roots is easily toppled by the storm, and a person without self-knowledge is easily swept away by fear, imitation, or hatred. Ramadan calls the believer to be grounded in heritage, history, and faith, but also to look forward—to ask not only “Who am I?” but “Who am I becoming?” This balance of memory and vision is the foundation of wisdom.

Then comes the greater challenge: “start talking and working with whom you are not.” Here is the path of courage. For it is easy to dwell only among one’s own, to hear only familiar voices, to love only those who mirror us. But civilization advances when the walls between tribes, faiths, and nations are lowered, and bridges are built across difference. To converse, to labor, to create with those unlike us—this is the labor of peace. Without it, humanity fragments into suspicion and hostility.

History itself reveals the power of this teaching. Consider the city of Cordoba in medieval Spain, where Muslims, Christians, and Jews once lived and studied together. There, scholars of different traditions shared knowledge, translated ancient texts, and enriched one another’s cultures. Out of that mingling came advances in medicine, philosophy, astronomy, and art—treasures that would later ignite the European Renaissance. Cordoba stands as proof that diversity and equality, when honored, do not weaken a society but make it radiant.

Yet Ramadan’s words also carry warning: to “find common values” is not to abandon one’s distinctiveness. Diversity is not sameness; equality is not uniformity. The task is to build societies where differences are not erased but respected, where every citizen feels both rooted in their identity and joined in shared purpose. Without equality, diversity becomes division; without diversity, equality becomes monotony. The wise society embraces both together.

O children of tomorrow, learn this truth: to build a just world, you must not fear those who are different. You must seek them out, listen with patience, and work with them to shape a common good. Do not let prejudice, ignorance, or pride blind you. Instead, let humility and courage guide you to find shared humanity beneath the surface of difference. In this way, enemies become neighbors, and neighbors become partners.

What then must you do? Begin in your own lives. Reach out to those who are not like you—different in belief, in color, in language, in custom. Ask not only what divides you, but what unites you. Build friendships across boundaries, labor for justice that benefits all, and stand against voices that would sow division. For every act of bridge-building, however small, strengthens the foundation of a society that is fair, resilient, and whole.

Thus, let Ramadan’s words endure in your heart. Know yourself. Speak with the other. Find common values. Build a society upon diversity and equality. This is not only the message to Muslims, but to all who walk upon this earth. For in the end, humanity is one household, many-roomed, and only when each room is honored can the house itself stand strong against the winds of time.