On Friday morning, little space remained in Baitul Futuh mosque as thousands of people poured in to mark the end of the Islamic holy month of Ramadan.
The south London mosque, one of the largest in Europe, offered a glimpse of the Eid al-Fitr festivities being celebrated by millions of Muslims across the UK. This year, however, a political furore around one of the most important holidays in the Islamic calendar has divided UK party leaders, drawn warnings of bigotry and left members of the community feeling disturbed and disappointed.
Earlier this week, Nick Timothy, the shadow justice minister, claimed Islamic prayers taking place in public are intimidating, un-British and an “act of domination”, after a Ramadan event in London’s Trafalgar Square. Reform’s leader Nigel Farage called the event, which has taken place five times without previous incident or controversy, an attempt to “intimidate and dominate our way of life”.
Taufique Ahmad, 22, standing outside the mosque as people entered for Eid prayers, said the “harsh and potentially harmful language” used against the community is “quite disturbing”.
“The British identity is such a strong thing that it’s not fragile enough that you see a glimpse of diversity that you’ll wither away and shatter,” said Ahmad, a legal intern and member of the mosque’s press team. “At least my British identity is that strong that if I see other communities practising their faith publicly and peacefully, if anything it makes me feel more British.”
Politicians, legal experts and community leaders have increasingly warned of a shift of the Overton window – the range of ideas deemed acceptable in the mainstream population – concerning political discourse around identity, race and religion.
While the Conservative party leader, Kemi Badenoch, said Timothy was “defending British values”, Keir Starmer claimed the party “has a problem with Muslims”. The prime minister’s offensive on Wednesday was welcomed by members of the Muslim community who fear they have been singled out for political leverage they say is capable of translating into real world harm.
In an effort to combat unacceptable treatment, prejudice and discrimination against Muslims, amid a rise in hate crimes , the government has recently adopted an anti-Muslim hostility definition.
The feeling is one Taahir Ahmad has grown up with: “9/11 happened when I was a kid,” said the 35-year-old, heading to see his mother after Friday prayers. “It was horrifying, I was the only brown kid at my school at the time, and kids being kids, they blamed me for everything and what not, it was kind of traumatic.”
Of the political rhetoric that has surfaced this week, Ahmad said he believes the aim is to cause chaos and division. If anything, leaders should attend the events, he said, and see how peaceful they are.
“If you target a certain ethnicity or religious group, you are isolating them and what you’re trying to do is organise the public to go against those people,” said Ahmad, a streamer who lives in Morden.
“It’s a tactic, I understand that, not welcome, not appreciated but we learned to live with it, we learned to deal with it,” he added. “We’re not as bad as the media or politicians portray us to be.”
Such perceptions are out of step too with Michelle Rahman’s experience. As a practising British Muslim woman from east London she said the views of a few politicians are not those of the broader public.
“We expect our politicians to hold unity in society, so how do I look at it? Disappointed. But what I don’t see is that that defines the United Kingdom,” said Rahman, an NHS worker who is also a youth leader at the mosque.
“That is not the opinion of the masses,” she added. “There’s been division throughout society and I see this as just one of those events, but actually it’s not a representation of the broader community.”
