Skip to content
Search

Latest Stories

Britain's fallen soldiers included people of all ethnicities

By Imam Qari Asim

THIS weekend the country marks Remembrance Sunday. It is important to take some time to reflect upon the men and women who have lost their lives fighting for my country. It’s a moment when we come together to acknowledge their service and sacrifice, and also to reflect upon our nation’s history and what it means to us today.


Some of that history is not as known as it should be. Most of us are aware that the First World War happened 100 years ago and was fought against Germany. The overriding image we have of that conflict is probably of the “Tommy” in the trenches of Flanders, surrounded by mud and barbed wire with bullets and shells flying overhead.

Far fewer, however, know who those men were - that as well as soldiers from every corner of the UK, Britain’s forces included 1.5 million men from the undivided Indian subcontinent, fighting alongside others from the West Indies, Africa, Canada and Australia. There were 400,000 Muslim soldiers from what is now Pakistan. In many ways, the army that fought for Britain a century ago looked remarkably like the Britain we live in today, with people of different faith and ethnic backgrounds working side-by-side.

As tends to be the case with all soldiers, some of those who fought were not volunteers, but conscripts. The situation for Indian Muslims was yet more difficult than for some of their counterparts. They were fighting a war in unfamiliar lands, in harsh and cold climatic conditions that they were neither used to nor prepared for, risking their lives every day so that we could enjoy the freedoms that we have, and appreciate the values that we hold dear. More than 89,000 Muslim soldiers are known to have been killed during more than four years of a grinding war of attrition.

The most famous epitaph inscribed at the Kohima War Cemetery in north east India sums up the sentiments of many of the Muslim soldiers: “When you go home, tell them of us and say: 'For your tomorrow, we gave our today'". Yet, this story has not been widely told. Research from think tank British Future, ahead of the First World War centenary, found that only a fifth of people are aware that Muslim soldiers fought at all in the Great War of 1914-18, and only two per cent are aware of just how many served this country, though awareness is now growing.

This week I spoke in Bradford at the launch of a new film from British Future, the result of a project that brought together young people from the city’s Muslim and non-Muslim communities to learn about this shared First World War history. They then worked with local rap artist Blazer Boccle to express in lyrics what this new knowledge made them feel about British identity. For all these teenagers, this shared history was new to them, something they hadn’t been taught in school, which made them think differently about what it means to be part of Britain today.

At a time when anti-Muslim hatred is on the rise, and a minority has seized upon the Brexit vote as false justification for questioning the loyalty of ethnic minorities to Britain, it’s only right that the heroism and bravery of Muslim soldiers who fought in the First and Second World Wars is also remembered. This is our shared history and Britain is our shared home. We can all choose how we mark that remembrance - whether by wearing a poppy or not - and while the vast majority of Muslims will support Remembrance, there is no need for Muslims to “prove” their loyalty to Britain.

When going through the long list of the fallen, I cannot help but be struck by the symbolism of the religious backgrounds of British soldiers. Christians, Jews, Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs and others have all died fighting for the British people.

On Remembrance Sunday, we should remember the power of Britain's pluralism and that our strength as Brits comes from our diversity and not from our differences.

  • Imam Qari Asim is spokesperson for British Muslim Forum and can be reached at @QariAsim

More For You

Does likeability count more than brilliance?

Higher education participation is 50 per cent for British south Asian students

Does likeability count more than brilliance?

THE headline in the Daily Telegraph read: An 18-year-old with a higher IQ than Stephen Hawking has passed 23 A-levels.

The gushing piece went on to report that Mahnoor Cheema, whose family originate from Pakistan, had also received an unconditional offer from Oxford University to read medicine.

Keep ReadingShow less
Comment: Why it’s vital to tell stories
of Asian troops’ war effort

Jay Singh Sohal on Mandalay Hill in Burma at the position once held by Sikh machine gunners who fought to liberate the area

Comment: Why it’s vital to tell stories of Asian troops’ war effort

Jay Singh Sohal OBE VR

ACROSS the Asian subcontinent 80 years ago, the guns finally fell silent on August 15, the Second World War had truly ended.

Yet, in Britain, what became known as VJ Day often remains a distant afterthought, overshadowed by Victory in Europe against the Nazis, which is marked three months earlier.

Keep ReadingShow less
Judicial well-being: From taboo to recognition by the UN

The causes of judicial stress are multifaceted, and their effects go far beyond individual well-being

iStock

Judicial well-being: From taboo to recognition by the UN

Justice Rangajeeva Wimalasena

Judicial well-being has long been a taboo subject, despite the untold toll it has taken on judges who must grapple daily with the problems and traumas of others. Research shows that judicial stress is more pronounced among magistrates and trial judges, who routinely face intense caseloads and are exposed to distressing material. The causes of judicial stress are multifaceted, and their effects go far beyond individual well-being. They ultimately affect the integrity of the institution and the quality of justice delivered. This is why judicial well-being requires serious recognition and priority.

As early as 1981, American clinical psychologist Isaiah M. Zimmerman presented one of the first and most comprehensive analyses of the impact of stress on judges. He identified a collection of stressors, including overwhelming caseloads, isolation, the pressure to maintain a strong public image, and the loneliness of the judicial role. He also highlighted deeply personal challenges such as midlife transitions, marital strain, and diminishing career satisfaction, all of which quietly but persistently erode judicial well-being.

Keep ReadingShow less
Fauja Singh

Fauja Singh

Getty Images

What Fauja Singh taught me

I met Fauja Singh twice, once when we hiked Snowdon and I was in awe he was wearing shoes, not trainers and walking like a pro, no fear, just smiling away. I was struggling to do the hike with trainers. I remember my mum saying “what an inspiration”. He was a very humble and kind human being. The second time I met him was when I was at an event, and again, he just had such a radiant energy about him. He’s one of a kind and I’m blessed to have met him.

He wasn’t just a runner. He was a symbol. A living contradiction to everything we’re taught about age, limits, and when to stop dreaming. And now that he’s gone, it feels like a light has gone out—not just in Punjab or east London, but in the hearts of everyone who saw a bit of themselves in his journey.

Keep ReadingShow less
“Why can’t I just run?”: A south Asian woman’s harrowing harassment story

Minreet with her mother

“Why can’t I just run?”: A south Asian woman’s harrowing harassment story

I was five years old when my parents first signed me up for a mini marathon. They were both keen runners and wanted me to follow in their footsteps. At the time, I hated it. Running felt like punishment — exhausting, uncomfortable, and something I never imagined I’d do by choice.

But one moment changed everything. I was 12, attending a gymnastics competition, and had gone to the car alone to grab my hula hoop. As I walked back, a group of men started shouting at me. They moved closer. I didn’t wait to hear what they had to say — I ran. Fast. My heart was pounding. It was the first time I felt afraid simply for existing in public as a young girl. I never told anyone. But I remember feeling thankful, strangely, that my parents had taught me how to run.

Keep ReadingShow less