Lessons from a week of domestic terrorism

The violent outbursts of racist and Islamophobic terrorism in the UK this past week has been terrifying to say the least. As part of my work as an anti-racism practitioner, I’ve had the privilege of holding space for different Global majority communities in organisations I work with and beyond, as grief and rage wanted to be expressed and questions of how we navigate this moment being discussed. The fear, generational and racialised trauma was palpable. But so was the sense of defiance as people shared how to keep each other safe, defend themselves and protect their communities.

The turn out to antifascist and anti-racist rallies to protect hotels that are homes to migrant communities, immigration lawyers, charities and so forth was massive and I am elated that so many came out. That thousands showed up across the UK to say a loud ‘NO’ to racism, Islamophobia, and overt fascism.

I am deeply grateful that people’s livelihoods were spared; that not more shops or mosques were burnt or ruined, and no further physical attacks have been reported.

For now.

For now, because the people who had planned to riot are somewhere. They haven’t just disappeared into thin air. Those who silently supported them and who agree with the sentiments they shouted from the proverbial rooftops, are somewhere. Those in power who have been laying the tracks for this train to enter the station are still here. The environment that nurtured their misplaced fears and hatred is still right here – even as those in power who are benefiting from our division most, are trying their best to distract us.

The fight is far from over

When the continuation of the riots was announced for Wednesday the 7th August, I was in two minds. The leaked reports of attacks planned on some 100 locations across the UK seemed different from the violent attacks at the weekend which erupted somewhat spontaneously. 

The announcements for Wednesday seemed coordinated, and planned with the goal to terrorise Global Majority communities, particularly those with immigration backgrounds. A part of me was worried, sure. Another part however, a greater part, was fairly confident that, this time, the racists weren’t organised enough to pull off their massive threats. That there would be enough people to rally against them. It seems I was right (touching wood as we speak).

My confidence wasn’t based on ‘trust in the true spirit of Britain’ or anything absurd like that, but rather because I knew that we had been preparing for moments like this, through all the organising efforts, network and community building that has been happening in the past few years. It was also because, while I am by no means downplaying the very real danger to our communities, I knew that those who took to the streets with their misplaced rage and hatred at the weekend, hadn’t been ‘organised’ in the same way. They were spontaneously reacting to the lies they had continuously been fed by those who benefit the most. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The mainstream media today will have us believe that the ‘anti-hate marches’ (which were full of those of us who have been referred to as ‘hate marches’ by the same media and politicians just months ago) were a symbol of Britain’s true character. That ‘this is the real United Kingdom, we’re not bad at all, last weekend was just an odd glitch in the matrix’. 

Without taking away from the relief we all no doubt feel, I want to offer a word of caution to those who might be too quick to celebrate this as an all-out win; those who might be tempted to believe them. 

If we don’t want what happened last week to happen again, we must learn a few lessons, and we must learn them fast. More of us must have the confidence to understand what is happening around us, how to respond and be strategic in our approach to the world we now live in.

Unpacking fascism for what it is 

We have work to do around what we collectively understand fascism to be. Fascism is not a small to midsize number of racists roaming the streets. Sure, that can be one sign thereof, but it is not its essence. Fascism, in its variations, is already here. It is because of that, that last weekend’s attacks were possible. 

Most people will think of Nazi Germany when they hear the word fascism. That is a problem because it means that we don’t see the signs and the elements that constitute fascism when they arrive on the scene. While we are, of course, a while away from 1930s Germany, it is worth considering that fascism comes in many forms and that the building blocks of fascism are many. Nationalism, militarism, increased state control, censorship, ideas of cultural or racial purity are all elements of fascism. So is seeing far-right, racist and Islamophobic sentiments in mainstream discourse – particularly the scapegoating of those who are not the majority in a country as the root of ‘all evil’. All elements that we have seen and are seeing here in the UK. From politicians’ racist and anti-immigration rhetoric to legislation passed that continues to infringe upon the right to protest, repealing rights to bodily autonomy of young trans people, increased police powers and so on, the UK has been on a steady trajectory. Those impacts are of course not felt the same by everyone, which only reaffirms this view. It is Global Majority communities, those who are queer, trans, disabled, immigrants and other minoritised groups that are experiencing the brunt of these. This doesn’t mean it can’t change, on the contrary. We have to be able to name a thing for what it is to do something about it.

Fascism is already in the systems and structures around us, in legislation, police powers and so forth. It is because white supremacy is the water we all swim in, that we saw racist violence unfold. Not the other way round.

This isn’t about race

The second lesson I believe we must take to heart, is that this was never and is not a war between ‘races’. 

Over the weekend of the riots we saw a lot of social media and even mainstream media narrative that was seeking to paint the racism that was unfolding as a particularly ‘working class issue’. This take, albeit thankfully actively being debunked by many, serves as a distraction.

It is worth saying that despite the many attempts to make us think otherwise, the working class is made up of people of all racialised backgrounds who probably have more in common with one another than those of their ‘racial group’ across class difference.

There is hardly enough space in this piece to cover all of this, but it’s important to unpack what race actually is. Race is a social construct that has always been about those with the most money and power dividing and riling up against each other those who amass said money and power for them (aka all of us – and particularly those belonging to what we call the working class, regardless of racialised background). 

Race, in the first instance, was constructed with the purpose of justifying the enslavement and exploitation of people of African descent. The hierarchy that was built and established from there on out was about ensuring that all the different groups that were being exploited by the ruling classes would never identify with one another and, god forbid, operate in solidarity with one another to change their conditions. It was those same ruling classes who sold the story of race to the white working classes who, although also exploited, were given a faux enemy to direct their anger toward. Instead of those responsible for their conditions.

Those in power, and the systems that protect them, are the problem. There are many of all racialised backgrounds and faiths who not only came out to counter protests but who are and have been actively organising in anti-racist spaces. And yes, there is a particular task at hand for those racialised as white, but a race war it is not.

Uprooting Islamophobia 

The third lesson is that we have much work to do to get our head around what Islamophobia is. Islamophobia is not simply a bit of fear of ‘the other’ or simply unconscious bias. As part of the ongoing process of racialisation, it is a carefully constructed narrative that, like the story of race itself, serves to divide with the purpose of manufacturing consent for imperial endeavours. 

In one of the spaces I got to hold for Global Majority communities this week, someone was sharing how, to them, everything felt a lot like the aftermath of 9/11. We’d do well to remember that much like then, with the purpose of justifying a war in Afghanistan, the media and ruling class have spent the last 10 months steeping their reporting around the genocide in Gaza in Islamophobic narratives and stereotypes – all the while intentionally manufacturing consent for Israel’s aggression. Wars, extraction, a ‘hold in the region’ are the purpose of the so-called war on terror which is fought, not in the least, through the stories and narratives of Islamophobia. 

It shouldn’t come as a surprise to us then, that those same narratives stoke the fires of hatred and embolden Islamophobia here, in the UK. If you haven’t yet, I urge you to read ‘Tangled in Terror. Uprooting Islamophobia’ by Suhaiymah Manzoor Khan whose work has deeply impacted my understanding and has inspired the subheading of this section.

Challenging ideas about race everywhere

While race is a construct, racism is very real, both in its systemic nature and in the way the stories and narratives about race, superiority, humanity and inhumanity continue to permeate our societies. 

Another lesson we must learn is that as well as organising to topple the systems themselves, we must recognise that every time we let these stories go unchecked, from whomever, wherever, we’re allowing them to shape narratives. Those narratives and ideas are what impact behaviour. 

It is the aforementioned ‘ruling class’ that are interested in peddling those ideas. But we’d be fools to believe that those ideas aren’t deeply rooted in our societies; amongst people across this country of all class backgrounds. It is, after all, the story of superiority this country has built its wealth upon. We all have a responsibility, regardless of our position of power, to challenge them wherever we can. Especially those who are racialised as white. To set the record straight, to call folks in. To have difficult conversations. To challenge what your kids hear in the playground or at school and your friends parrot from the news at 8.

Ideas and beliefs do matter. Otherwise, the ‘other side’ wouldn’t be so terrified by those of us challenging their stories.

We must get organised

The last – and potentially most important – lesson is that the turnout to the anti-racist and antifascist rallies was not a miracle. It was, to borrow an analogy my dear friend Mikaela Loach uses a lot, the mushroom that grew seemingly spontaneously from a network of mycelium that has intentionally been nurtured for decades. 

It was thanks to the anti-racist organising of Black and brown communities across the country over the past 60 odd years, the organising, educating and rallying of the BLM uprisings in 2020, the climate justice campaigning of the last years. It was also most certainly thanks to the unwavering efforts of Palestinians and those in solidarity with them who have been rallying people week in and week out for the last 10 months, that there were networks of mycelium ready to sprout in an emergent moment.

It was the fruit of much labour, of many small, seen and unseen efforts of grassroots and community organising, of an intentional effort of levelling up our collective political consciousness.

Our world is in unprecedented waters, things are changing and they’re changing rapidly. What that looks like in the end, which direction, which future we’re headed into, is down to all of us. The famous quote by Arundhati Roy gives me hope in times like these:

‘Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.’

I know those who went to the rallies will have heard that breath and caught a glimpse of her. A glimpse of the futures we can create.

Those futures won’t come by some miracle. They will come because we make them come. I firmly believe that we, the people, can take hold of this moment and change the trajectory we are on.

Toward a future that doesn’t see our planet burn up, that protects the most vulnerable among us and all living things, that sees an end to genocides.

We can do it, but only if we understand that it will take an organised, principled, sustained and disciplined group of people, coming together in small, grassroots communities, organising to make the future what we know we deserve.

These are the core lessons I’ve gleaned from this past week. There are no doubt more and I urge you to share them with all of us.

For now, this is what you can do: If you went to one of those rallies and are not yet part of a community that organises around any kind of anti-racist, liberatory, climate just future, I urge you to change that. We listed some places to start with below. Get involved. I promise it’ll be worth it. 

Let’s keep the momentum going. Let’s get organised.

THE POWER IS OURS. Let’s take it back. See you in the streets, in community gardens and hubs, living rooms and parks.