Why 'freedom of speech' has never applied to Muslims

“Why 'freedom of speech' has never applied to Muslims Submitted by Shaheen Kattiparambil on Fri, 05/29/2026 - 19:45 Across Europe, this principle is invoked as a defence for far-right hostility, and cast aside in the context of anti-racist critiques Participants and supporters of the far-right Unite the Kingdom march are pictured in London on 16 May 2026 (Justin Tallis/AFP) On As thousands of people gathered in London under the banner of " Unite the Kingdom " last month, much of the public defence of the march rested not on denying its Islamophobic or anti-immigrant rhetoric, but on invoking the language of free speech . Supporters and commentators framed the march as an expression of patriotic concern, democratic dissent and the right to speak openly about immigration, Islam and national identity. Criticism, meanwhile, was frequently dismissed as an attempt to silence ordinary people or suppress uncomfortable truths. This pattern has become increasingly familiar in Britain and across Europe. The language of free speech is no longer invoked to protect abstract democratic freedoms; it is increasingly used to legitimise racialised political formations, while casting anti-racist critiques as authoritarian. Free speech becomes less of a neutral principle, and more of what author Gavan Titley describes in his book Is Free Speech Racist? as a racial script: a framework through which certain forms of racial hostility are reframed as courageous truth-telling, while the speech of racialised minorities is rendered excessive, dangerous or threatening. The contrast becomes especially visible when one considers how differently Muslim political expression is treated. Far-right mobilisations targeting Muslims are routinely defended under the banner of free expression and national concern, whereas Muslim activism - whether through anti-racist organising, criticisms of Islamophobia, or Palestinian solidarity - is often securitised or framed as socially divisive. The issue, then, is not simply whether speech is free - but whose speech is protected, whose speech is feared, and whose speech is understood as a threat to the nation itself. Revealing asymmetry This is evident in contemporary debates around Islamophobia in the UK. For years, politicians, journalists and peers have argued that defining Islamophobia would endanger free speech. A definition of the term developed by the All-Party Parliamentary Group on British Muslims was critiqued primarily through that lens. At the same time, speech targeting Muslims is defended as legitimate commentary, satire or provocation. Calls to investigate MP Nick Timothy over his claim that mass Muslim prayer constituted an “act of domination” were immediately reframed by commentators and campaign groups as an assault on free speech, rather than as a question of racialised political rhetoric. This asymmetry reveals something deeper about the politics of free speech in contemporary Britain. What is repeatedly defended in the name of free expression is not speech in the abstract, but racialised speech directed at Muslims. It has always been about power; about who gets to speak, whose grievances are heard, and whose humanity is recognised This racialised defence of free speech has deep historical roots in Britain. Efforts to confront racism have long been dismissed as humourless, overly sensitive, or emblematic of excessive political correctness. Across media and political culture, attempts to name racism have frequently been reframed not as a demand for equality, but as an attack on British identity, tradition and common sense itself. The language of “speaking one’s mind” became a powerful alibi through which racial hierarchies could be defended, while those challenging them were cast as the true authoritarians. This pattern was especially visible in the fierce opposition to Britain’s Race Relations Acts of 1965, 1968 and 1976. Resistance to these laws was rarely articulated through openly racist language. Instead, opponents framed anti-racist legislation as a threat to liberty, free expression and national values. When the Labour government published the Race Relations Bill in April 1965, the legislation immediately generated controversy, with Conservatives objecting to what they saw as the curtailment of free speech. Familiar language The debates surrounding the 1976 Race Relations Act revealed this dynamic even more clearly. Former MP Ronald Bell, one of the most vocal Conservative opponents of the legislation, described Clause 69 , a provision dealing with incitement to racial hatred, as “the greatest infringement of freedom of speech or writing since the days of religious persecution”. As legal scholar Anthony Lester , who was directly involved in drafting the legislation, later reflected, sections of the Conservative right framed the Act less as a mechanism for racial equality than as an assault on British freedoms and traditions. The language is strikingly familiar today: once again, the central anxiety is not racism itself, but the supposed authoritarianism of those attempting to regulate it. This broader defence of “free expression” does not remain confined to parliamentary debates or legal disputes over racial hatred legislation. It extends deeply into the cultural sphere, where even the suggestion that certain jokes, caricatures or forms of entertainment might be racist is often met with indignation and hostility. To challenge such representations is portrayed not as a legitimate critique of racism, but as evidence of oversensitivity and a failure to understand British humour. This dynamic was visible in discussions surrounding the Unite the Kingdom march, particularly after footage emerged of three white women on stage mocking the attire of Muslim women, to the encouragement and amusement of sections of the crowd. Responding to criticism of the incident, LBC host Iain Dale attempted to downplay the overt Islamophobia by reframing it through the language of humour. The implication was that critics had failed to appreciate the “joke”, reproducing a familiar pattern in British public culture whereby racialised mockery has been historically defended not on its own terms, but through appeals to comedy, irony and the supposed inability of anti-racist critics to understand humour. Rendered invisible This appeal to humour as a defence against accusations of racism has a long history in the country. The Black and White Minstrel Show aired on BBC primetime from 1958-78, drawing on the 19th-century American minstrel tradition, a theatrical form in which mainly white performers caricatured Black people through racist stereotypes, portraying them as foolish and subservient. Although initially presented as wholesome entertainment, the programme attracted growing criticism throughout its run for perpetuating these racist portrayals and relying on the offensive practice of blackface. For BBC producers, minstrelsy was defined through the lens of colour blindness and racial innocence. They presented blackface as a time-honoured theatrical convention devoid of racial intent or harm. The show was consistently described as “good-hearted family entertainment”, allowing its defenders to deny the existence of racism. Unite the Kingdom: Hateful theatre of niqab ‘unveiling’ feeds far-right fantasies Read More » In contrast, Black audiences and activists worked to name minstrelsy as offensive and racist. Their complaints were dismissed as a failure to appreciate British humour . What emerges across these moments is a recurring pattern in which racism is rendered invisible through the language of humour, satire and free expression, while those who challenge it are cast as the real threat to public culture and democratic values. If free speech absolutists were genuinely concerned with censorship, one might expect them to stand up against the forms of expression most heavily policed today. Yet many who defend the right to mock Muslims, or who oppose definitions of Islamophobia, remain silent when Muslim academics, pro-Palestinian students and Palestine solidarity activists face surveillance, suspension or criminalisation. Since October 2023, universities and governments across the UK, US and Europe have intensified restrictions on pro-Palestinian expression. Scholars have described this as a longstanding “ Palestine exception ” to free speech, revealing how free expression often functions less as a neutral liberal principle than as a racialised mechanism, determining which voices are legitimate and which remain suspect. If history teaches us anything, it is that the loudest invocations of free speech often emerge precisely when racial hierarchies are being challenged. Freedom of speech, in other words, has never been about speech. It has always been about power; about who gets to speak, whose grievances are heard, and whose humanity is recognised. The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Eye. Racism Opinion Post Date Override 0 Update Date Mon, 05/04/2020 - 21:29 Update Date Override 0

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