‘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.bizSunder 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.
