THE de-politicisation of the actions of the suspect in the Christchurch mosque attacks demonstrates how discussions in the mainstream press remain stubborn, reflexive and solipsistic.
They are not reflective nor introspective. Think pieces which place Islamophobia in quotation marks following the tragic events of last week deserve scorn, not editorial approval.
Rather, we should ask: how did we arrive here? But that’s just one aspect of the problem, as the echo chambers which inspire such ideological devotion find validation in various forms from main- stream figures and sources which ‘other’ Muslims as cultural threats who deserve their marginalisation. Islamophobia and anti-Muslim hatred are real, growing problems that go beyond criminal acts, from discriminatory attitudes and normalised bigotries which harm the mobility and employment prospects of Muslims, to the disproportionate use of police and counter-terror powers.
Much of my job involves trying to understand what motivates the far-right, but how accessible and mainstream their talking points have become, not just in 2019 or even a decade ago. History compels us to look further. Both the Conservative party under Margaret Thatcher, and New Labour under Tony Blair and Gordon Brown, are guilty of main- streaming the far-right when politically expedient.
Was Brenton Tarrant radicalised on his tour of Europe? His self-aggrandising and racist screeds reflect a broader neurosis in the European, North America, and Australasian radical right. The obsession with demographics and mythologised narratives linking Muslims more broadly to criminality populate tabloids. US president Donald Trump famously told CNN in 2016: ‘I think Islam hates us’.
Tarrant, like other far-right terrorists has welded himself to a grander narrative: of a collective struggle against invaders, be they Muslim, Jewish, or other minority groups which span centuries of violent European history. The misuse of history helps to further a deeper sense of an impending civil war, or clash of civilisations; where individuals feel ob- ligated to assert their racialised rage at Muslims as a form of pre-emptive violence, where their justifications are couched in mainstream talking points and news articles. The conclusion of which, in this tragic example, is genocidal. It’s no coincidence that his musical choices reflected the propaganda of genocidal regimes of Nazi Germany and Rado- van Karadžic, the “Balkans butcher”.
Where does this narcissistic idea of ‘revenge’ stem from? The academic Sara Ahmed posits that fascist forms of love are a product of ‘narcissistic whiteness’ which inverts hatred and racial violence into acts of redemption born from a love of the self (whiteness) and the imagined ideal of the nation- state. This narrative of love, from fascists and the extreme far-right, centers the risk the in-group faces from the out-group. It’s why the infamous neo-Nazi slogan ‘14 words’ – one of the clearest examples of this narcissism was written in Tarrant’s manifesto, and on his weapon.
Ahmed further states that such a reversal of logic places ‘race-mixing’ as a form of hatred. This point also extends to the hatred Tarrant applies to white individuals who have converted to Islam. Such actions are a form of betrayal, a betrayal drenched in racialised language. How then could the adage ‘Is- lam is not a race’ be true?
Tell MAMA continues to document how racialised ideas about Muslims see white converts referred to ‘P***s’, as racialisation, after all, incorporates ‘cultural factors in addition to traditional, physical markers of race and ethnicity’.
In Tarrant’s native Australia, the senate almost voted in favour of a bill full of far-right talking points, including the now infamous phrase ‘It’s Okay to be White’. Nor is it an accident that Tarrant made this gesture when in court.
Tell MAMA has seen a rise in racist incidents fol- lowing the terror attack in Christchurch, on social media and offline. This reality should shock us into changing attitudes and challenging hatred. Spreading Islamophobia or anti-Muslim stereotypes should not be rewarded with column spaces. Nor should accountability for one’s actions or comments result in half-hearted apologies. We can and should as- pire to do better. And that extends to centring the voices and lived experiences of Muslims both in mainstream media outlets and in politics.
Steve Rose writes about Islamophobia and the far-right for Tell MAMA and Faith Matters.
US president Donald Trump gestures next to Israeli prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu at Ben Gurion International Airport as Trump leaves Israel en route to Sharm El-Sheikh, Egypt, to attend a world leaders' summit on ending the Gaza war, amid a US-brokered prisoner-hostage swap and ceasefire deal between Israel and Hamas, in Lod, Israel, October 13, 2025.
‘They make a desert and call it peace’, wrote the Roman historian Tacitus. That was an early exercise, back in AD 96, of trying to walk in somebody else’s shoes. The historian was himself the son-in-law of the Roman Governor of Britain, yet he here imagined the rousing speech of a Caledonian chieftain to give voice to the opposition to that imperial conquest.
Nearly two thousand years later, US president Donald Trump this week headed to Sharm-El-Sheikh in the desert, to join the Egyptian, Turkish and Qatari mediators of the Gaza ceasefire. Twenty more world leaders, including prime minister Sir Keir Starmer and president Emmanuel Macron of France turned up too to witness this ceremonial declaration of peace in Gaza.
This ceasefire brings relief after two years of devastating pain. Tens of thousands of civilians have been killed. More of the Israeli hostages taken by Hamas are returning dead than alive. Eighty-five per cent of Gaza is rubble. Each of the twenty steps of the proposed peace plan may prove rocky. The state of Palestine has more recognition - in principle - than ever before across the international community, but it may be a long road to that taking practical form. Israel continues to oppose a Palestinian state.
The ceasefire will be welcomed in Britain for humanitarian relief and rekindling hopes of a path to a political settlement. It offers an opportunity to take stock on the fissures of the last two years on community relations here in Britain too. That was the theme of a powerful cross-faith conversation last week, convened by the Board of Deputies of British Jews, to reciprocate the expressions of solidarity received from Muslims, Christians and others after the Manchester synagogue attacks, and challenge the arson attack on a Sussex mosque.
Jewish and Muslim civic voices had convened an ‘optimistic alliance’ to keep conversations going when there seemed ever less to be optimistic about. The emerging news from Gaza was seen as a hopeful basis to deepen conversation in Britain about how tackling the causes of both antisemitism and anti-Muslim prejudice could form part of a shared commitment to cohesion.
This conflict has not seen a Brexit-style polarisation down the middle of British society. Most people’s first instinct was to avoid choosing a side in this conflict. The murderous Hamas attack on Jews on October 7, 2023 and the excesses of the Israeli assault on Gaza piled tragedy upon tragedy. The instinct to not take sides can be an expression of mutual empathy, but is not always so noble. It can reflect confusion and exhaustion with this seemingly intractable conflict. A tendency to look away and change the subject can frustrate those whose family heritage, faith solidarity or commitments to Zionism and Palestine as political ideas make them feel more closely connected.
Others have felt this conflict thrust upon them in an unwelcome way - including British Jews fed up with the antisemitic idea that they can be held responsible at school, university or work for what the government of Israel is doing. Protesters for Palestine perceive double standards in arguments about free speech - as do those with contrasting views. The proper boundaries between legitimate political protest and prejudice are sharply contested.
Hamit Coksun is an asylum seeker who speaks somewhat broken English. He would seem an unusual ally for Robert Jenrick. Yet the shadow justice secretary went to court to offer solidarity, after Coskun had burned a Qu’ran outside the Turkish Embassy, while shouting “F__ Islam” and “Islam is the religion of terrorism”. He had been fined £250, but the appeal court overturned his conviction. The judgment was context-specific: this specific incendiary protest took place outside an embassy, not a place of worship, in an empty street, and did not direct the comments at anybody in particular.
The law does not protect faiths from criticism, and indeed offers some protection for intolerant and prejudiced political speech too, though the police can place conditions on protest to protect people from abuse, intimidation or harassment on the basis of their faith.
So it can be legal to performatively burn books - holy or otherwise - though this verdict makes clear it does not offer a green light to do so in every context.
But how far should we celebrate those who choose to burn books? Cosun advocates banning the Qu’ran, making him a flawed champion of free speech. Jenrick is legitimately concerned to show that there are no laws against blasphemy in Britain, but could anybody imagine that he would turn up in person to show solidarity to a man burning the Bible, Bhagvad Gita or Torah, shouting profanities to declaring religion of war or genocide? The court’s defence of the right to shock, offend and provoke is correct in law. Those are hardly the only conversations that a shared society needs.
Sunder Katwalawww.easterneye.biz
Sunder Katwala is the director of thinktank British Future and the author of the book How to Be a Patriot: The must-read book on British national identity and immigration.
By clicking the 'Subscribe’, you agree to receive our newsletter, marketing communications and industry
partners/sponsors sharing promotional product information via email and print communication from Garavi Gujarat
Publications Ltd and subsidiaries. You have the right to withdraw your consent at any time by clicking the
unsubscribe link in our emails. We will use your email address to personalize our communications and send you
relevant offers. Your data will be stored up to 30 days after unsubscribing.
Contact us at data@amg.biz to see how we manage and store your data.