British Muslims in the Anti-Terror Age

Dilwar Hussain is head of the Policy Research Unit at the Islamic Foundation in Leicestershire and an associate lecturer at the Open University. He participated in the “Preventing Extremism Together” workgroups set up by the British Home Office after 7 July 2005.

 

 

World events such as those of 7 July 2024 and 11 September 2024 (henceforth 7/7 and 9/11 respectively) have had such sweeping effects on Islam and Muslims across the world that only time will allow their full impact to be recorded. Is this a clash of civilisations? Maybe—maybe not. But for some years now, the increasingly visible presence of Muslims in Europe has been perceived, by many, to be a challenge to the status quo of European societies. That presence has been seen as bringing into question two major assumptions: (i) the pre–Second World War notion of citizenship that emerged from European history, often based on ethnic or religious homogeneity and defined against religious and cultural plurality; and (ii) the assumption that religion should be an entirely private affair and that faith has no role in the public domain. I call these “assumptions” rather than “social realities” for they are rooted in nostalgic visions of an ancient or recent past that have little to do with reality. Religious values, for example, have always played an important public role across Europe and continue to do so. Without religious influence we would have had no Solidarity movement in Poland or National Health Service in Britain. As Europe continues to evolve and search for its own identity, it may be that the anxiety this process creates internally is turned against communities that are the least established and able to articulate a defence. 

Muslim Communities in Britain 

Britain contains one of the most diverse Muslim communities¹ in Europe. It may come as a surprise to some that Islam and the British Isles have had centuries of interaction. The mention, in Arabic, of the Muslim declaration of faith on coins minted by King Offa (d. 796) is a cryptic example of this. Despite this early interaction, it was only in the eighteenth century that Muslims first began to form communities in Britain. As the migrants were mainly sailors, most of these communities took root in the major port cities such as Liverpool, Newcastle and London. Two significant communities were formed in Woking and Liverpool, with a number of converts playing an important role in these cities.

 

These early communities were quite small and localised and it was much later, after the Second World War, that more significant numbers of Muslims migrated and settled. A key reason for migration was that Britain’s post-war economy needed labourers. Additionally, in the recently decolonised regions of the world, economic and educational conditions were not satisfactory. This led to a “push–pull” effect which, over two decades, brought a significant number of Muslims to Britain, mostly from the rural areas of Pakistan and Bangladesh. Besides this South Asian presence, a number of Muslims migrated from various parts of the Arab world, mainly for educational purposes. Over the years, these communities have been joined by Muslims originating from Africa, Europe and East Asia, as well as by converts from Britain, to form an ethnically diverse community. About half of the 1.6 million Muslims now present in Britain were born there. 

Identity 

The Definition of Self

Modern societies produce a heightened sense of the individual, and the notion of self-identity thus becomes very important. The daily choices we make vis-à-vis clothing, food, newspapers, etc., all speak volumes about who we are and send out images, conscious or subconscious, about the type of person we think we are. Choices of belief, personal philosophy, career, and relationships similarly give out such signals. Yet this is not just a matter of one-way traffic, for we constantly influence others and are influenced by external factors, be they the people around us, the pervading culture or the context in which we live.

 

Anthony Giddens has pointed out the connections between the most “micro” and “macro” levels that impinge on social identity and social change.² Sociology cannot make sense of either of these levels by considering them in isolation. If, for example, one is to examine the changes in morality in Britain following the Second World War—including the growing acceptability of extra-marital relationships, the rise in crime, or the increase in sexual imagery in the public domain—such changes cannot be accounted for adequately by looking at either the micro or macro level alone. They were not led by social institutions or the state, yet neither did individuals spontaneously change their minds about moral behaviour. Most such changes were influenced by a decline of religious authority and by the rise of rationalism and materialism in British society. These changes were in turn affected by other social factors and influences. Changes in laws regarding family and gender roles would have come from the macro level, yet demands for these changes would have stemmed from the micro level. The change within the micro level would have been caused by social movements at the macro level, which of course would have been prompted by people’s experiences and dissatisfaction at the micro level. 

Transient and Multiple

Foucault regards identity not as something that is located within a person, but as the result of people’s interacting. People do not possess a real identity; rather, an identity is a temporary construction that is constantly shifting. Identity is thus relational.

 

For Foucault, the notion of self is related to power. Power, which may be defined as the ability to influence the environment, is an action which individuals engage in. Power is not possessed, it is exercised. And where there is power, there is bound to be resistance. Hence, identities are not given, but are the products of ongoing processes, meaning that identities are constantly produced and transformed through social interaction.

 

Not only are identities transient, but individuals rarely occupy or appropriate single identities. An individual may be a father, husband, son, cousin, uncle, office worker, sportsman, etc., all at the same time, shifting effortlessly from one role to another or indeed juggling different roles at the same time while negotiating his way through life. Similarly, when considering a religious and national group such as Muslims living in Britain, multiple layers of identity may come into play. Different facets of a person’s or group’s many identities could be emphasised depending on the context. 

What is “Muslim” Identity?

So, what is “Muslim” about a person? In previous writings I have proposed that the following three elements are among the most important that affect the formation of a Muslim identity:

 

1. The concept of self.

 

2. The concept of territory.

 

3. The concept of community.

 

1. Self. Muslim notions of the self are forged by the complex interchange of many factors, one of the most influential, perhaps, being the concept of god and man’s relationship with the divine. This spiritual relationship sets the scene for man’s many and varied roles in life. Among Muslims, as with any religious group, depth of faith and degree of practice will vary considerably, but as these seem to be the key defining facets of being a Muslim, they have some bearing on the notion of the self. For some Muslims, self-definition may have come, not through a religious prism, but through social, cultural or political identification. It may even be the way in which society has externally defined an individual. Such forms of identification seem to be quite common today, especially in the context of a public debate on Muslim issues.

 

2. Territory. Traditional Muslim societies were not based on the nation-state, and Muslims lived in territories where it was not uncommon to see people of various ethnic and linguistic backgrounds sharing the same geographical space. To this day, the debate continues as to how legitimate nation-states are within the Islamic framework.

 

Another fundamental idea in the conception of territorial space is the role of religion in public life. Until secularism became firmly established in the post-Ottoman era, Muslim societies discerned a complex relationship between religious, political, economic and social aspects of life. Ernest Gellner commented that Islam had an “absence of accommodation with the temporal power. Being itself Caesar, it had no need to give unto Caesar”.³ This unity of spiritual and temporal authority has been exaggerated by some Muslims in nostalgic views of a complete fusion between the political and religious realms.

 

However, upon closer scrutiny it can be seen that there was always recognition within Muslim societies of the distinction between the public and the private, and the political and the religious domains, leading to a de facto division of powers, even though this was not as pronounced as in modern secular states. Emerging Islamic debates about secularism are beginning to acknowledge the value of the separation of powers as democracy becomes a more acceptable mode of governance even among traditionalist thinkers.

 

Another fundamental aspect of territorial definition, and one which has much relevance in understanding today’s discourse of enmity towards the West from some quarters, lies in an ancient vision of the world. During early Islamic history, Muslim scholars devised specific geopolitical terms to define how the law should apply to Muslims living within and outside the Muslim territories. The region under Muslim rule was termed Dar al-Islam (the Abode of Islam). That outside Muslim rule was variously described as Dar al-Harb (the Abode of War), Dar al-Kufr (the Abode of Unbelief), Dar al-‘Ahd and Dar al-Sulh (the Abode of Treaty), Dar al-‘Amn (the Abode of Security), etc. Many more definitions were coined, but by far the most popular among scholars were the first two, Dar al-Islam and Dar al-Harb, leading to what Tariq Ramadan calls “a binary vision of the world”: the world of Islam and the world of “others”.⁴

 

The consequences for jurisprudence were significant. Although there were differences among the various Islamic legal schools, most of them disliked the idea that a Muslim might live outside Dar al-Islam. Permission to do so was granted for traders, students, preachers, etc., but generally as an exception and only for temporary periods. The essential characteristics of Dar al-Islam were held to be factors such as personal security, access to justice, freedom of worship, and avoidance of moral corruption. One may, therefore, raise questions about the situation today, when in some cases Muslims have been forced to flee from Muslim countries and seek refuge in the West because of political threats. Considerations such as this have caused some contemporary Islamic scholars to question the whole approach of this binary vision of an “Abode of Islam” and an “Abode of War”. Can such a vision be maintained in today’s globalised world, especially when no entity exists that scholars can unanimously identify as Dar al-Islam against which a Dar al-Harb can be defined?

 

3. Community. How does a Muslim relate to the people around him? And what is the community—who are its members? The notion of the umma, which is often used to describe the global Muslim community, does not negate one’s duties to those who are neighbours, fellow countrymen or part of one’s nation (qawm). In fact, the term umma needs to be understood more fully. It is interesting to observe that Mohammad, in the Treaty of Medina between Muslims and non-Muslims, including Jewish tribes living around Medina, used the word umma to describe the local multi-religious community: “The Muslims and Jews … are one umma, they have their religion and we have ours.” The concept was thus used in a very plural setting, in which religious distinctiveness was upheld, but with a common social vision. The Qur’anic licence to Muslims that the “food of the People of the Book is lawful for you and your food is lawful for them” (Sura 5:5) has also been seen as a means of social solidarity: if people can break bread together, they can be “companions” (literally “with bread”) in the true sense.

 

A question often posed is, “Which are you first: Muslim or British?” In light of the above discussion on multiple identities, such a question is actually a non-issue. In fact, there are two distinct identities involved here: one is a religious and philosophical identity and the other is a national or territorial identity. Just as one can be Christian and British, or humanist and British, so one can be Muslim and British, without any need for contradiction or comparison between the two. From an Islamic perspective, at the heart of the issue whether Muslims can express an identity that is British, or indeed engage as citizens in a Western country (which some sections of the Muslim world question), is a traditional notion of loyalty (wala’). This concept has been interpreted as meaning that a Muslim should not associate with, or display friendship to, non-Muslims. A fatwa of the European Council for Fatwa and Research critiques this view by dividing wala’ into two spheres, transcendental and temporal. It is only in the former, i.e., in matters of worship, that one is expected to show distinctiveness; regarding worldly matters and especially social relations, one is expected to interact and engage with people, despite differences of faith.

 

Loyalty is hence multi-faceted and operates at different levels. Each one of us frequently balances loyalties to ourselves, our families, our work commitments and careers, our friends, the community, the nation, etc. Often, these loyalties can clash, but this is true not just of Muslims, but of all people. A person with a passion for the environment, for example, may have personal views about how to live and consume that are at odds with those of the majority, or with some state policies. Living in any society involves a constant negotiation of our different values and ideas, allegiances and loyalties. The very frameworks of most modern constitutions, as well as international treaties on human rights, are designed to facilitate this by giving room for freedom of individual thought and belief. 

‘Britishness’ 

Stereotypical images of Britain—as in former prime minister John Major’s talk of long shadows on the cricket grounds, warm beer, green suburbs, and old maids cycling to communion in the morning mist—often evoke romantic and quaint notions of Britishness, or more specifically in this case, Englishness. Historically, the British Isles have been host to numerous groups of peoples, including the Celts, Romans, Vikings, Saxons, Normans, and more recently, from the twentieth century onwards, migrants from all over the world. Each group has added something to what is now known as “Britishness”.

 

It is interesting to note that some of the popular symbols of Englishness such as the St George’s Cross, Christianity, afternoon tea, the Royal Family, and fish and chips all reflect major foreign influences. The legend of St George was brought to England by crusaders returning from the Middle East; Christianity, of course, also originated in the Middle East; tea comes from the Far East; the Royal Family is a result of transnational marriages; and fish and chips are thought to be a combination of Jewish and Irish culinary skills. Even the English language is classified as a Germanic tongue, part of the Indo-European linguistic family. If such considerations lead us to think of Britishness as a confused and fuzzy identity, that is probably a more honest appraisal of the historical nature of a nation than analyses which offer a clear and simple recipe for nationhood. But anxieties about Britishness are likely to persist as Britons struggle to come to terms with internal diversity (through immigration) and their changing position in the world—loss of empire, economic marginalisation, the growth of Europe, the strength of the United States, etc.

 

While this debate can be troubling—leading to a growth in the far right, for example—it can also be seen as an opportunity: to maintain “Britishness” as an inclusive notion, rather than defining it so narrowly that it becomes exclusive. But as the debate continues, “Britishness” seems to be a moving target—one, nevertheless, into which settling minorities are expected to integrate. 

Integration 

The word “integration” often gets a mixed response, usually because it is not defined clearly and because the assumptions underlying it are not always disclosed openly. Whenever I use this word, it is as a course somewhere between social and cultural segregation and total assimilation. Assimilation would seem to involve one entity’s dissolving into something else (as salt dissolves in water and ceases to be salt). Sometimes “integration” seems to be used to mean assimilation, and this usage can be seen especially in pan-European discussions.

 

At times “integration” is used to imply the coming together of two distinct, essentialised entities, and one’s becoming part of the other, or rather the onus being on one to integrate into the other. I prefer to think of the process of integration as far more complex and fluid, through which the narrative of the collective “we” is constantly being redefined, giving rise to a new vision of being British (and in the context of this discussion a new vision of being Muslim naturally comes into the picture). Needless to say, the “integrating party”, for want of a better expression, must have the capacity to play a serious role in defining the new vision.

 

Sometimes, an assumption of integration discourse is that the process will lead to less visible minorities, or perhaps less troublesome ones. This may be an unrealistic assumption, as integration is likely to increase the assertiveness of groups—a natural consequence of an increased sense of ownership of the nation. Whereas immigrant grandparents would pass racism by on the streets with their heads down, teenagers who feel a greater sense of ownership of the space around them and who feel they can demand equal treatment may not be as compliant.

 

A very useful way of thinking about integration was developed at the Commission for Racial Equality, before it closed down in 2007. Integration was defined as having three pillars: equality, participation and interaction. Equality requires that the playing field be levelled and that “glass ceilings”, as barriers to achievement and ambition, be removed; participation entails that people commit themselves to engaging in the system as citizens; and interaction necessitates that spaces be made in which different people can meet and relate to one another. Clearly, such a vision of integration removes the onus from any single entity or group, and puts greater emphasis on creating the necessary climate for people to come together. 

The Impact of 9/11 and 7/7 

Prior to 9/11, a broad trend of integration or acculturation was discernible among Muslims: they seemed to be moving from being Muslims who happened to live in Britain to becoming British Muslims, rooted in Britain. 9/11, and perhaps 7/7 more so, seem to have complicated our thinking about that process. Anecdotal evidence suggests that some Muslims of middle-class background are now investing in second homes abroad lest another terrorist attack bring on a backlash against Muslims in Britain. Others have decided that their investment needs to be in Britain, to do everything possible to prevent another attack (though of course these two positions are not mutually exclusive).

 

In considering the notion of identity, we observed that it is relational and operates not in isolation but in a context. For British Muslims, the anti-terror discourse has radically influenced the context. British Muslims have been detained in Guantanamo Bay, British Muslims have been arrested on suspicion of terrorism, mosques and homes have been raided, and London has been described as a hub of Islamic terrorism—“Londonistan”. There has been very negative media coverage of Muslims and Islam, but also rather more favourable interest from unexpected sections of the media that would have been unimaginable prior to 9/11, such as the Daily Telegraph’s November 2001 special supplement on Islam.

 

At the level of politics, while the general climate has crept towards a constriction of civil liberties and new counter-terrorism laws have been rushed through Parliament, new opportunities have also been created for Muslim engagement with government. At the level of the general public, while there has been a well-documented rise in Islamophobia, new opportunities have also been created for dialogue between faith and cultural institutions, individuals and communities. According to the Interfaith Network UK, the number of interfaith organisations has grown considerably since 9/11. Solidarity between Muslims and non-Muslims has also been strengthened through protest campaigns against the Iraq War and through the increasing involvement of Muslims in the anti-globalisation movement.

 

But views have also moved in more radical directions. Observing the Western response to 9/11, particularly the attacks on Afghanistan and Iraq, some British Muslims, especially the young, feel more isolated and alienated. They are further distanced when they see that fellow Muslims want to deal with the establishment that has “betrayed” them, and thus they turn to radical alternatives outside the “system” as constituted by the British state and the traditional structures of the Muslim community.

 

It is difficult to gauge what proportion of Muslims would opt for these radical alternatives, but a MORI poll published by the British-Asian newspaper, Eastern Eye, on 22 November 2024 showed that there were only minor differences between Muslims and other Asian religious groups in expressions of loyalty to Britain. (Asked “how loyal, if at all, would you say you are to Britain?”, 87 per cent of Muslim respondents answered “very or fairly loyal”; the corresponding figure for Hindu and Sikh respondents was 92 per cent and 95 per cent respectively.) Other surveys of Muslim opinion since then have shown varying results, depending on the precise question asked and the political context at the time.

 

After what seemed like a slow start expressive of a state of denial or defensiveness, one significant effect of 9/11 was the breaking of the taboo on Muslims’ speaking out against the extremists within. Prior to 9/11, most Muslims in Britain and elsewhere seemed to be extremely wary of “washing their dirty linen in public”. The ensuing months and years have resulted in a heartfelt search among many on how to deal with extremism in the Muslim community, a search conducted with a frankness and honesty that were clearly absent before.

 

How are Muslims to deal with the anger, frustration, hatred and radicalisation (of young men in particular) and prevent the extremist tendencies from attracting any more support? How have we allowed Islam, a beautiful spiritual melody, to be drowned out by the din of such ugly and evil acts? If anything, the events of 7 July 2024 in London only made these questions more acute for British Muslims. But this climate has also had a deeply political impact on the process of identity formation, with the “Muslim” dimension now at risk of exaggeration. Moreover, this dimension is also at risk of becoming more politicised, as opposed to being a primarily religious–spiritual identity. It is often forged in oppositional terms, and also seems to be growing into a more defiant, if not at times separatist, posture. 

The Context of Radicalisation 

One crucial factor affecting the health of relations between Western countries and their Muslim citizens is the terminology used in the anti-terrorism discourse. Words such as “radical”, even “extreme”, have a usage outside this discourse that is less negatively charged. Radicalism can even be seen as innovative and positive in some contexts. But repeatedly employing these terms alongside words such as “Islam” or “Muslim” has been of great concern to Muslims, some of whom have argued that terrorism is a political criminal act in which religion is insignificant. They point to the Irish Republican Army, whose members were not routinely identified as “Christian terrorists”. A complicating factor, however, is the standard usage of an overtly “Islamic” rhetoric in video and other messages recorded by terrorists. And while the discussion on terminology needs to continue, few practical suggestions have been offered as to how to change the discourse.

 

Much of the discussion about the motives for the vicious attacks on London of 7 July 2024 has become rather repetitive and is often generalised and simplistic. Without a thorough and accurate understanding of the ideas and sentiments behind the attacks, we cannot effectively deal with such problems. It is of course impossible to know what was going on in the minds of the perpetrators of these acts, but it is possible to trace such inclinations and tendencies to a broader ideological backdrop which is a complex interplay of theological, social and political factors. By arguing that “they are against our values” or that “British multiculturalism has failed”, we do not get to the bottom of the complexity behind such attacks. Nor can Muslims simply say that “they were not (true) Muslims” and disown the individuals.

 

The simplicity of the arguments doesn’t end there. Some have drawn a dichotomy between the “good Muslim” and the “bad Muslim”, a gulf often cast in terms of Sufi and Salafi trends respectively. Or the problem has been identified as “political Islam” or “Islamism”, in contrast to which a more traditionally spiritual practice would allegedly lead to a more passive community. There is much to learn from the positive values of Sufism, but the above claim betrays an ignorance of the fact that the major Muslim anti-colonial movements of the nineteenth century—in Dagestan, Nigeria, Sudan, Libya and elsewhere—were inspired by Sufi leaders. Or that some movements in Britain with Sufi origins have branches or sister organisations elsewhere in the world that are deeply political. Or, indeed, that many leaders of “Islamist” movements were interested in Sufism, including Ayatollah Khomeini (d. 1989), who led Iran’s Islamic Revolution, and Hasan al-Banna (d. 1949), the founder of the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt. “Islamism” has, in my view, become too vague a term to be of much analytical use. It can be, and often is, used to refer to anybody from Osama bin Laden to someone who vaguely believes that religion is of political relevance.

 

A number of authors and their views, e.g., Sayyid Qutb (d. 1966), have come under particular fire in the anti-Islamist drive. After the death of al-Banna, Qutb, a controversial and prolific Egyptian writer, rose to prominence and while in prison developed what some of the Muslim Brotherhood leadership considered to be a flawed analysis of society. In his book Milestones along the Path, first published in 1964, Qutb advanced the notion of a pure society based on Islam in contradistinction to a society steeped in jahiliyah (ignorance)—the implication being that Egypt under Nasser was the latter. This move split opinion within the Muslim Brotherhood, and its leader, Hasan Hudaybi, later published a book, Duat la Qudat (We are Preachers Not Judges), as a critique of Qutb’s jahiliyah thesis.

 

However, Qutb’s literary flair and style and his eventual execution by Egypt for a number of alleged terrorist offences, including plotting the death of President Nasser, meant that he captured the sympathy of many Muslims. Jihadi ideologues have cited Qutb to justify the use of political violence. The question is, what does one do, in a liberal society, with texts such as Qutb’s—texts that we may not agree with, or that we may even regard as dangerous? It seems that writers like Qutb are read by countless Muslims around the globe, who are usually able to contextualise such views and realise that they represent a moment in history, much as people read liberation theology or the writings of Marxist revolutionaries. The best, and most consistent, policy with such ideas may be to debate and challenge them, and argue for change, rather than countenance censorship.

 

In attempting to analyse what causes young Muslims to move towards extremism, I believe the following five factors may be useful. I present them not as an exhaustive list, but as a set of factors which, when taken together, help us to understand some of the context which is conducive to radicalisation. 

1. Theology

There are major concerns about the way in which Islamic theology has been interpreted in regard to the notion of the “other”. While there is no shortage of Muslims who interpret Islam to be a force for dialogue and co-operation, some have read it as being about “us and them”. This tendency has been exacerbated by notions such as Dar al-Harb (the Abode of War) and also takfir (akin to excommunication). The jihadist mindset seems to view the world as being in a state of war, and particularly to believe that Muslims are necessarily embroiled in war with key Western nations such as the United States and Britain. In a morose and ironic twist to the Islamic worldview, warfare has become normalised and peace exceptionalised. Jihad is taken to be an offensive, pre-emptive act which can be used to transform society and replace its leadership. Such jihad is initially directed against the kuffar (unbelievers), but even Muslims are not spared, as a narrowly defined notion of purity and the concept of takfir are deployed to push people outside the boundaries of Islam, thus legitimating violence against Muslims who may be deemed supporters of the kuffar. 

2. Obligation and Allegiance

Given the defensive posture of British Muslims as a diaspora community, debates among religious authorities about how to adapt Islam to a European environment have not yet covered sufficient ground. If one considers that the bulk of inherited Islamic thought developed in a pre-modern context in which Muslims were the dominant political force, then the challenge of understanding a more plural way of life, in which Muslims are a minority and not the majority, becomes clearer. Nevertheless, many have now come to terms with the notion of being British as well as Muslim, and a number of fatwas have been issued regarding such matters as citizenship, voting, civic participation, etc. This could constitute a good basis on which to build.

 

British Muslims have, for example, begun to explore the notion that they are bound by a social contract with the state, just like any other Britons. This means that on a political level there is a clear allegiance to the state, and the observance of English law could be seen as an Islamic duty. It is for such reasons that a Leeds-based scholar, Abdullah al-Judai, said in a fatwa after 9/11 that it was haram (prohibited) for Muslims to go to Afghanistan and fight against British forces there. This fatwa was based on a precedent mentioned in the Qur’an (Sura 8:72). Such views need to be debated more thoroughly in the Muslim community and wider support won for them. 

3. Social Exclusion

Much has been written about the exclusion of Muslims from many aspects of British life. The 2001 census suggests that in most spheres of socio-economic performance—employment, education, housing, income, health, etc.—Muslims are doing very badly. This might not be a factor in all cases of radicalisation—in fact, most of those involved in perpetrating terrorist attacks are from well-adjusted backgrounds—but the perception that Muslims generally do suffer social exclusion may foster a climate of alienation that in turn feeds radicalisation. Thus, an individual from a fairly wealthy family may still relate to the narrative of deprivation, disadvantage and exclusion vouched for by other Muslims. Such a sense of disconnection may be made more acute by perceptions of discrimination against Muslims. 

4. Government Policies

Over the last twenty years or so, because of globalisation and advances in mass communications, we have been given unprecedented ability to witness world events as they unfold. We cannot afford to ignore the impact that foreign-policy decisions, such as the bombing of Iraq, for example, may have in radicalising young Muslims. In fact, Iraq is one of the first grievances cited by those who commit acts of terror. It is true that 9/11 occurred before the attacks on Afghanistan or Iraq, but it seemed to be connected with earlier US actions in the Persian Gulf and elsewhere in the Middle East. Furthermore, the causal chain extends back to the colonial era, when Western occupation and rule had a tremendous impact in shaping the major Muslim movements and networks of the last century (and today). It seems that Muslims have not yet been able to complete the shift to a post-colonial discourse of Islamic praxis. This again shows that personal and individual experience—for example, of oppression, discrimination, or disadvantage—is not always crucial in someone’s being radicalised, for there can be a collective memory at work which creates a climate of shared experience.

 

Besides Western actions, the West’s “inconsistencies” and “double standards” are often cited as factors in Muslim radicalisation—for example, support for dictatorships in the Middle East and rejection of the outcome of democratic elections when the victors are not to the West’s liking. 

5. Youth and Leadership

It has been widely acknowledged that the demographics of Britain’s Muslim community, and the fact that 52 per cent of British Muslims are below the age of twenty-five, are a serious cause of concern in relation to problems such as crime, delinquency and radicalisation. Positive role models are either scarce or failing to have the desired impact in expanding the horizons and aspirations of some young people. Leadership has also been a sore point, with widespread dissatisfaction as regards community representation. This might be due, perhaps, to a structural problem of arranging mechanisms through which the community endorses leaders. There is also the remarkable absence of a British-Muslim middle class, which is only now beginning to emerge. The Scarman Report into the 1981 Brixton riots called for the middle class to be strengthened in Britain’s Afro-Caribbean communities. This may well be part of the solution for the Muslim community, too, which has a natural time-lag behind the Afro-Caribbean communities in terms of migration, settlement, and now integration.

 

The problem of leadership is highlighted when government bodies and other state agencies desire to “speak to Muslims”. How does a community which is fragmented, poorly organised, and lacks religious institutions such as a hierarchy of bishops receive or convey a message? Naturally, leadership will evolve and develop over time, but Muslims currently seem to lack the visionary leadership that can inspire angry young men to adopt a mode of political engagement that offers hope and is a positive way out of disenfranchisement. 

Setting Things Right 

I have briefly surveyed a wide range of issues, including how Muslim identity is formed, notions of integration, the adaptation of Muslim identity to a British context, the impact in these areas of 9/11 and 7/7, and lastly some factors at play in the radicalisation of young British Muslims. What is often forgotten in the anti-terrorism discourse is how much Muslims themselves have lost and stand to lose from acts of terror against Britain.

 

Given what has happened, British public opinion has been remarkably tolerant, but there has been a backlash of sorts: suspicion of Muslims has increased, media reporting has become more hostile, Muslim issues are discussed as “problems”, legislation has hardened and affected civil rights, stop-and-search measures hit Muslims disproportionately, authorisation is urged for longer periods of detention without charge, and so forth. The irony is that the very measures designed to protect society could be increasing the threats to it by stigmatising and alienating a whole new generation of Muslims who are growing up in a climate of fear and mistrust.

 

An important report by the think-tank Demos argued that a community-based approach is essential for the fight against terrorism.⁵ The government is beginning to realise that the fight is a long-term one that involves “winning hearts and minds”, but also one that brings real change to how policies are made and implemented. Is this all about “our values”? Is it that the terrorists are just envious of our way of life? Although such factors may feature somewhere in terrorism’s causal narrative, the primary motivations for anti-Western movements seem to be political and territorial concerns.

 

Muslims have also realised that standing against terrorism is just the beginning of the challenge that faces them. There is a whole host of issues that must be confronted if relations between Western societies and their Muslim communities are to improve. There is a need to redress traditionalist misogynistic attitudes, to adopt a more pluralistic approach towards “the other”, and to stem the rise of a crippling sense of victimhood. These matters have nothing to do with terrorism, but if they cannot be dealt with constructively then there is a danger that the very resource needed to defeat extremism, a genuine discourse among British Muslims that is rooted in Islamic sources, will be seen by upcoming generations as irrelevant. Arguably, that has already happened to a certain extent, leaving young Muslims susceptible to the simplistic, black and white, and dangerous solutions offered by hotheads on a road to nihilism.

 

 

Endnotes

 

 

1. For convenience sake, I use the word “community” as a sociological construct to refer to the Muslim presence in Britain, though the term has its limitations, not least because of the highly diverse (ethnic, sectarian, cultural) nature of that presence, making it difficult to speak of a single entity. It might be more accurate to talk of Britain’s Muslim “communities” in plural.

 

2. See David Gauntlett, Media, Gender and Identity: An Introduction (London and New York: Routledge, 2002), pp. 91–115.

 

3. Ernest Gellner, “A Pendulum Swing Theory of Islam”, in Sociology of Religion, ed. Roland Robertson (Harmondsworth, England: Penguin Books, 1976), pp. 127–38.

 

4. Tariq Ramadan, To Be a European Muslim (Leicester: Islamic Foundation, 1999).

 

5. Rachel Briggs, Catherine Fieschi, and Hannah Lownsbrough, “Bringing it Home: Community-Based Approaches to Counter-Terrorism”, Demos, London, 2006.