A position article from the British Board of Imams and Scholars (BBSI)

Over the past several years, the British Board of Imams and Scholars (BBSI) has received a steady stream of messages from imams across the United Kingdom. These messages come from large city mosques and small local masjids, from imams at the beginning of their careers and from those who have served communities for decades.

While the individual details vary, the underlying themes are remarkably consistent. Many imams describe not isolated disagreements or occasional tensions-which are inevitable in any institution-but patterns of mistreatment, unrealistic expectations, emotional strain, and structural imbalance that have become normalised within mosque governance.

This article does not seek to attack mosques or those who serve on their boards. Many trustees give time generously and sincerely, often with the intention of serving Allah and their communities. However, sincerity alone does not protect institutions from injustice. When patterns repeat across regions and generations, they demand reflection.

What follows is a sober account of what imams themselves are experiencing, shared with BBSI in confidence, and presented here anonymously out of necessity.

The Ever-Expanding Job Description of the Imam

One of the most common frustrations expressed by imams is the unbounded scope of expectations placed upon them. In theory, the imam is employed primarily as a religious leader: to lead prayer, teach the faith, provide spiritual guidance, and uphold the religious integrity of the mosque. In practice, many imams are expected to be far more.

They are asked to act simultaneously as counsellors, social workers, mediators, youth mentors, marriage advisors, funeral directors, fundraisers, public relations representatives, interfaith ambassadors, safeguarding officers, and crisis managers-often without training, support, or even acknowledgment.

An imam from the Midlands wrote:

“I was appointed as an imam, but I quickly realised the role had no boundaries. One day I am expected to resolve domestic abuse cases, the next to negotiate with the council, then to raise funds, then to fix community politics. When anything goes wrong, it is my fault. When anything goes right, it is the committee’s success.”

Another imam from the North of England shared:

“There is no job description. The expectation is simply: ‘You are the imam, so deal with it.’ But there is no understanding of the limits of our training, or the toll this takes.”

This constant expansion of responsibility would be demanding even in well-resourced institutions. In many mosques, it is carried by a single individual, often on modest pay, with little job security.

Constant Criticism, Little Support

Alongside excessive expectations, imams frequently describe an environment of continuous scrutiny and criticism, often unaccompanied by encouragement or professional development.

Boards speak readily about “raising standards” among imams, about improving delivery, relevance, and professionalism. Yet imams report that this language is rarely matched by investment, mentorship, or constructive feedback.

An imam serving in in the midlands wrote:

“Every khutbah is analysed. Every decision is questioned. But no one ever asks how I am coping, or what support I need. It feels like they are waiting for me to slip, just once, so they can say: ‘See, this is why imams are the problem.’”

Another imam from Yorkshire reflected:

“There is no culture of encouragement. Only fault-finding. Even when people appreciate the work, the board never communicates it. Silence when things go well, cobra meetings when something goes wrong.”

This atmosphere breeds anxiety and self-censorship, discouraging imams from innovation, honest advice, or prophetic moral leadership.

Who Is Evaluating Whom?

A particularly painful issue raised by many imams is the imbalance between those being evaluated and those doing the evaluating. Mosque committees frequently demand higher qualifications, better communication skills, stronger leadership, and broader community impact from imams. These aspirations are not unreasonable. What is rarely addressed, however, is the question: what qualifications do mosque committee members themselves have to lead religious institutions?

Many imams observe that while they are scrutinised for every shortcoming, trustees are rarely asked about their own Islamic literacy, governance training, leadership experience, or understanding of religious ethics.

An imam from the South West wrote:

“I have studied Islam full-time for over a decade. Yet I am instructed on basic religious matters by people who cannot distinguish between fiqh and culture. When I raise concerns, I am told I am being difficult.”

Another imam shared:

“There is endless talk about ‘imam training’. But who trains the committees? Who trains them in Islamic ethics, conflict resolution, governance, or leadership? We are told to develop, but they remain unaccountable.”

This imbalance fosters resentment and erodes mutual respect, replacing partnership with hierarchy.

Counting Hours, Ignoring Sacrifice

Alongside concerns about pay, imams frequently describe a culture of minute scrutiny of working hours, often divorced from the realities of religious service. Some mosque boards closely monitor office hours, attendance, and visible presence, while overlooking the extensive work carried out outside conventional schedules. Imams speak of evenings filled with counselling sessions, late-night emergency calls, hospital visits, funerals arranged at short notice, and family crises addressed quietly and without recognition.

An imam from the Midlands wrote:

“I am questioned if I leave the mosque early one afternoon, but no one counts the nights I am up until midnight counselling couples, or the weekends spent attending janazahs, or the unseen work I do for the community”

Another imam reflected:

“The irony is painful. My hours are counted when I am seen, but the unseen hours—the emotional labour, the listening, the crises-are invisible.”

Ramadan: A Month of Barakah, Exhaustion, and Silence

Ramadan is frequently cited as the clearest example of unacknowledged extra labour. During this month, imams often work at an intensity unmatched at any other time of the year: leading long nightly prayers, delivering daily reminders, answering a surge of pastoral queries, and maintaining community cohesion during a spiritually charged period.

Yet many imams report that this extraordinary effort is met with expectation rather than appreciation.

An imam from the Nroth wrote:

“In Ramadan, my day begins before Fajr and ends well after Taraweeh. I am physically and emotionally drained. But there is no ‘thank you’, no acknowledgment—only complaints if something is not done perfectly.”

Another imam shared:

“If a single night’s recitation is not to someone’s liking, it is reported to the committee. But the 29 nights of service are taken for granted.”

Navigating Board Politics and Egos

Many imams describe the emotional exhaustion of being caught between fractured mosque boards, sometimes consisting of ten, fifteen, or even twenty individuals with competing agendas.

Rather than being supported by governance structures, the imam often becomes the stabilising force-mediating disputes, absorbing tensions, and maintaining public calm while internal conflicts rage.

An imam from Greater Manchester wrote:

“Half my time is spent managing egos. Different factions want different things, and I am expected to keep everyone happy. If I don’t, I’m accused of taking sides.”

Another imam stated bluntly:

“Sometimes it feels like my real job is not teaching Islam, but massaging the insecurities of grown men.”

Such dynamics are deeply corrosive. They divert imams from their primary religious duties and place them in untenable emotional positions.

The Devaluation of Scholarship and the Imam’s Calling

Perhaps most troubling are accounts suggesting a deeper cultural issue: a lack of respect for Islamic scholarship itself. Several imams report that they are spoken to dismissively, excluded from strategic decisions, or treated as mere functionaries rather than learned religious authorities.

An imam from the East Midlands wrote:

“I am called only when they need a dua, a nikah, or a funeral. When it comes to vision, strategy, or ethics, I am sidelined. It is as if my knowledge is only decorative.”

Another shared:

“There is a sense that imamat is a low-status job. Some board members openly say, ‘If you don’t like it, we can replace you.’ This is how scholarship is treated.”

Such attitudes not only harm imams but also impoverish mosques spiritually.

A Question of Justice and Responsibility

The treatment of imams is not a peripheral issue. It reflects the moral health of our institutions. Mosques cannot thrive while those entrusted with religious leadership are overstretched, undervalued, and routinely undermined. BBSI believes that serious reflection is needed-not only on imam training, but on mosque governance, trustee education, and ethical leadership. Accountability, transparency, and compassion must apply in all directions.

A Call for Engagement and Support

BBSI remains committed to listening to imams and advocating for healthier institutional cultures. We recognise the courage it takes for imams to speak honestly, particularly when their livelihoods are at stake. We encourage imams across the UK to continue reaching out to BBSI in confidence, to share experiences, seek guidance, and contribute to a growing body of collective reflection. These voices matter. They are essential to reform grounded in reality rather than rhetoric.

Rebuilding trust between imams and mosque leadership will not happen overnight. But it must begin with acknowledging what is happening, listening without defensiveness, and committing to change-not as a favour to imams, but as a duty to Allah and to the communities our mosques exist to serve.

BBSI Editorial Board