Polarising rhetoric risks drowning out the overwhelmingly positive story of Islam in Britain

If you heard that a friend or colleague had been reprimanded for Islamophobia, what would you think? Probably that he’d said something undiplomatic, but certainly not bigoted. That he had, perhaps, suffered the same fate as the philosopher Sir Roger Scruton, sacked by the Government after his words on the recent migrant crisis were twisted, with malign intent. In other words, you’d think it was a trumped-up charge – with no real crime.

But anti-Muslim bigotry in Britain is all too real, with the number of attacks rising at an alarming rate. The broadcaster Maajid Nawaz was beaten while standing outside a London theatre a few weeks ago – he said he’d be okay because this was “the life that forged us”. To grow up Muslim in Britain has always meant facing such headwinds: they might not blow as strongly here as in other countries, but they’re gathering strength now.

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At first glance, attempts to define (and proscribe) Islamophobia seem uncontroversial. Anti-Muslim bigotry ought to have the same status as anti-Semitism but under the 2006 Racial and Religious Hatred Act, it does. So why the need to define Islamophobia? It is not a difficult word to understand: it refers to Islam as a religion – as distinct from Muslims, the followers of that religion. It is taken to mean both. But the vagueness of the phrase means that it can be used as a weapon against anyone, especially those seeking to scrutinise the agenda of political Islamism. In Britain, where religious freedom must coexist with the freedom to critique or mock any organised religion, words matter.