Extremism

In the autumn of 1940, British cities were being bombed every night by large aeroplanes whose provenance was apparently of some considerable doubt. While the public almost unanimously believed the conflagrations to have been caused by the Luftwaffe, the authorities – right up to the government – refused to speculate. Indeed, when certain members of the public raised their voices and said ‘This is all down to Hitler and Goering and the bloody Germans!’, they received visits from the police who either prosecuted them for disturbing the peace or put their names on a list of possible extremists. The nights grew darker. The number of towns and cities subjected to

The Islamist terrorist Ali Harbi Ali will spend the rest of his life behind bars for the murder of Sir David Amess MP. But as he fades from public view, will his risk also disappear? That’s a headache our beleaguered prison service will now have for decades to come. The signs are not promising. Harbi Ali, who reportedly smirked after stabbing Amess more than 20 times, showed no sign of remorse or contrition throughout his trial. Unlike many of the terrorists he will be joining in one of our high security prisons, he managed to convert his distorted thoughts into lethal action. He’s a blooded jihadist and he will be

In general, my experience as a British Sikh has been overwhelmingly positive in my life. Most people who know anything about Sikhism, or the Sikh contribution to the world wars, tend to be enthusiastic Sikhophiles – some have even greeted me with an impromptu Sikh greeting, ‘Sat Sri Akal’. But over the years, especially during my time at university, I faced prejudice from both Islamic extremists and those who might be best described as the ‘Far Right’. It’s been an illuminating experience. Both hated me, albeit for different reasons. One supremacy is religiously motivated against the ‘kaffir’, the other by race. This hate was often accompanied with the slur ‘Paki’