In a world where the frenzy of consumption drives us towards an unending pursuit of the latest and shiniest, we risk losing something fundamental—our ability to feel contentment. We seek happiness by filling our lives with possessions, but instead, we find emptiness. The Netflix documentary The Minimalists captures this paradox: we own more than ever, but are we happier? Here, amid the abundance, a more profound question emerges: What do our possessions say about us, and can Islam, with its timeless wisdom, help us navigate beyond the illusion of consumption?
When we meet Joshua Fields Millburn and Ryan Nicodemus in The Minimalists, two men who have decided to pull the emergency brake, we see how they strip away the superfluous and free themselves from material chains. They find joy in simplicity. Their story echoes an older, more profound message that Islam has emphasized for centuries: avoid israf—excessive consumption. The Qur’an warns us:
"Eat and drink, but do not be excessive. Indeed, He does not like those who commit excess." (Qur'an 7:31)
What happens when we go to excess and build our lives around material possessions instead of inner wealth? We lose ourselves. In Inferno, Strindberg describes how excess in any area—alcohol, science, or possessions—eventually destroys the soul (Strindberg, August, Inferno, Norstedts, 1994). Like the characters in The Minimalists, we end up in a void where pursuing more becomes a machine we cannot turn off.
The Swedish concept of lagom—not too much, not too little—is a life philosophy that resonates strongly with Islam’s view on balance. Islam does not advocate asceticism or total abstinence from material things but offers a path of moderation. The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) led a simple life where gratitude and contentment were central values. He reminded us:
"Whoever wakes up secure in his home, healthy in his body, and with food for the day, it is as if he has the entire world at his feet." (Al-Bukhari, Sahih al-Bukhari)
Here, we find a striking parallel to the core of minimalism: what more do we need beyond the basics?
This lagom is also reflected in Islam’s concept of ummatan wasatan, a middle way for society. We are allowed to enjoy material things without becoming enslaved by them. This path is reminiscent of Frithiof’s journey in *Frithiof’s Saga*, where he struggles to balance his worldly duties with his inner emotional drives (Tegnér, Esaias, Frithiof’s Saga, H.A. Nordström, 1825). Similarly, today, we must balance our consumption and higher purposes—those that give our lives true meaning.
In one of the most powerful scenes in The Minimalists, Joshua and Ryan stand before their former lives, filled with expensive furniture, clothes, and gadgets. But they are empty inside. The modern world tries to convince us that we need more to be happy: the latest technology, the fastest car, and the giant screen. Yet, the more we own, the less we seem to own our inner lives. This insight is also reflected in Selma Lagerlöf’s Gösta Berling’s Saga, where the characters often lose themselves to the temptations of excess, only to realize that true meaning lies in simplicity and deeper human connections (Lagerlöf, Selma, Gösta Berling’s Saga, Frithiof Hellbergs förlag, 1891).
Islam emphasizes similar lessons: gratitude is a cornerstone of a believer’s life. When we stop chasing what we don’t have and instead focus on the blessings we already possess, we find peace that cannot be purchased.
The Qur’an says:
"If you are grateful, I will surely increase you [in favor]."(Qur'an 14:7)
This promise of “more” refers not to material things but to a more profound happiness that possessions cannot measure but by inner tranquility.
Islam balances enjoying the world’s beauty and not allowing it to dominate our lives. The Prophet Muhammad stressed the importance of the middle path. Total asceticism, where one refrains from everything, is not Islam’s way. At the same time, we are warned not to let consumption and material desires take over. In The Wonderful Adventures of Nils, Nils gets to experience the beauty of Sweden and learns to appreciate simplicity beyond material needs (Lagerlöf, Selma, The Wonderful Adventures of Nils, Albert Bonniers förlag, 1907). Similarly, we are encouraged to view the world with gratitude and reverence without getting lost.
The Qur’an states:
"Who has forbidden the adornments of Allah, which He has brought forth for His servants?" (Qur'an 7:32)
This means we can enjoy material things but with moderation and mindfulness. Islam’s philosophy does not deny the world’s beauty but constantly reminds us that this beauty is temporary and not an end in itself.
What, then, can we learn in this age of excessive consumption? Perhaps it is time to pause and reassess. What if, like Frithiof, we are constantly battling ourselves, caught in a web of desires and external pressures? Islam and minimalism offer us a way out—a path where we can rediscover the joy in the little things, find beauty in simplicity, and turn away from the prison of consumption to find true freedom in the soul.
The Qur’an and The Minimalists remind us that life is not about accumulating objects. It is about gathering experiences, memories, love, and gratitude. And perhaps this is the most revolutionary message we can hear in our time—that we don’t need more to become whole, but possibly less. The journey, like Nils Holgersson’s or Gösta Berling’s, is about finding our true selves beyond everything we own.