In November 2016 the far-right terrorist Thomas Mair was sentenced to life in prison for the politically-motivated murder of MP Jo Cox, which happened earlier in the year. It’s telling that many news outlets featuring headlines about the verdict chose to place quote marks around the word ‘terrorist’. Other terms that media outlets used to describe Mair included ‘deranged white supremacist’, ‘far-right fanatic’, and ‘neo-Nazi’.
While all of these terms are true enough and suitably negative, they also suggest that the media remains reluctant to label Mair as what he is: a terrorist. Only one article in the Guardian not only included the word in the headline (without quotes) but also in the opening sentence.
This may seem like a trivial problem of semantics. Surely terms like ‘neo-Nazi’ are good enough to describe Mair in light of his actions. But there’s more to it than that.
Perceptions are at the heart of the matter. The point is fairly obvious and it’s been made many times; if this white man had been Muslim he’d have been instantly called a terrorist (without a quote mark in sight). By putting the word in quote marks or using terms like ‘neo-Nazi’ and ‘white supremacist’, the media paints Mair’s actions as unusual and an anomaly.
It does not imply any ongoing link between white men and terrorism. That one is reserved for brown men with beards – and has been that way for the best part of two decades. Perceptions in the public mind of terrorism and Muslims are writ large and obvious, full of double standards. Islam’s image has become synonymous with terrorism.
Much of that image has been built and reinforced by the constant drip feed of media narratives that draw oft-hysterical links between terrorism, extremism and Muslims. The resulting Islamophobia has formed a grim backdrop to everyday life for numerous Muslim communities. Repercussions have been immense and damaging, ranging from everyday discrimination to acts of outright violence.
There’s also the added challenge of counter-terrorism measures such as Prevent, which focus disproportionately on Muslims, creating an atmosphere where innocent citizens feel singled out and victimised. On top of this, the much-publicised crimes of Daesh (ISIS) have further inflamed the situation over the last two years. Resentment, fear and distrust of Muslims is at an all-time high.
In recent months however, the so-called Islamic State has taken a back seat to the rise of a new group: the so-called ‘alt-right’, otherwise known as far-right extremists. The resulting media furore surrounding the Brexit vote and Trump’s election has thrown the spotlight onto far-right extremism. The far-right has always been around – it makes up 1 in 3 cases referred to Prevent – but until now hasn’t received such high levels of media coverage.
There isn’t much that’s positive about such hateful trends. But against this backdrop, with Daesh fading into memory, perhaps the image of Islam will regain some ground. Society must realise that violent extremism and terrorism are not just related to Islamic groups. Hate and dissatisfaction comes in many flavours and there’s a much broader spectrum out there than mainstream media coverage would suggest. For example, before Al Qaeda, many people associated “terrorism” with the IRA; white Catholics.
It’s time for the image of Islam to start reflecting reality; and for people to realise that terrorism and Islam are not synonymous. Counter-intuitive though it may seem, perhaps the rise of far-right extremism could help bring this perception shift into fruition.