Relationships between Muslims and the supposed ‘West’ may be hamstrung by long-standing historical misconceptions on both sides, but this section explores more specifically how the British state managed its population of Muslims since their migration into UK, and how the ideals of multiculturalism and cohesion (and threats to those ideals) have constructed a distinctive racial political landscape.
Two popular misconceptions abound surrounding the mass migration of Muslims in the UK. The first is that prior to the Second World War, there was no significant Muslim population in the UK. The second is that post-war Britain had no real experience of mass migration. On the contrary, records can be found of Muslim visitors to the British Isles as early as the twelfth century. Research by Ansari (2003) has attempted to provide a summary of all Muslim migration to the UK from the visits of emissaries in that early period right up to the mass migration from the Indian subcontinent in the mid-late twentieth century. Ansari (2003, 26-27) suggests that in 1627 around 40 Turks were living in England and by 1725, English society was “pretty well accustomed” to them as traders and merchants. Colonialism had a significant impact on the beginnings of Muslim migrants to Britain, making it necessary for some in Muslim societies to fashion new ways of pursuing their own interests, as Britain and other European nations strengthened their grip on states from North Africa, through Arabia and to the Indian sub-continent. The British Empire required cheap labour and some
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labourers were exported to working colonies other than the ones that they hailed from. By the early twentieth century Muslim seamen formed part of a ‘visible’ migrant population in Britain (Ansari 2003, 40). The First World War saw a dramatic increase in the size of this migrant population, to replace the men who had been called up for military purposes. Ansari (2003, 41) documents figures from Tyneside indicating that the ‘black’ (non-white) population increased fourfold in this period. At the same time, the ‘black’ population of Cardiff rose from 700 in 1914 to 3000 by April 1919.
The second misconception was that Britain was not used to mass-migration. Following the Irish potato famine between 1847 and 1855 alone 300,000 Irish immigrants migrated to England (Macraild 1999 cited in Panayi 2010, 38) and 180,000 Germans (mostly German Jews) migrated to Britain before 1945 (Panayi 2010; 39). 145,000 Poles settled in the UK by 1945, remaining in the UK to avoid returning to a Poland under Stalin (Sword 1989 cited in Panayi 2010, 41). It is examples such as these that provide the historical evidence for the UK being known as a place of seeking refuge and freedom from persecution.
Nonetheless, it was post-war migration between the late 1950s and early 1980s that accounts for the greatest influx of Muslims into the UK. Moreover it was the migration in this period which instigated a wave of policies on racism and integration. Unskilled workers from the Indian subcontinent began arriving midway through the 1950s, firstly primarily from India (who were mostly Hindu rather than Muslim) and later from Muslim-majority Pakistan. During the late 1970s and into the early 1980s a wave of Bangladeshi migrants added to the Muslim population already in the UK. The 1960s was the peak decade of migration to the UK from the Indian subcontinent, and according to Abbas (2005b, 9) until this decade there was a feeling, if not an expectancy by the host community that the migrants would leave after having earned a certain amount of wealth. When this turned out to be a misplaced assumption, Immigration Acts were introduced to curb the levels of migration, beginning in 1962. The first Act sought to reduce the numbers of male manual workers entering the UK, but it also sparked a rush of women and children who wished to be reunited with migrant relatives, fearing that the Act might be the precursor to a subsequent ban. It could be argued, that due to the late arrival of
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many women and children, the establishment of settled Muslim communities began after this period just fifty years ago.
From this point onwards two factors became very relevant to the evolution of state-minority relations with regards to British Asians, including Muslims. Firstly, from an institutional top-down perspective, the spectre of racism and opposition to Britain’s new migrants became a political issue. Both Conservative and Labour governments attempted to respond to the non-acceptance of immigrants by sections of British society with race-relations legislation. Secondly, and at the same time, the communities who had arrived in the post-war period slowly developed what were initially loose and informal representative organisations, a bottom-up movement. Ansari (2003, 234-235) looks into these developments more closely and observes that up until the late 1980s broad alliances between Muslim groups were eschewed in favour of more self-contained organisations representing micro-communities, providing them with access to communal social resources and assistance in engaging with the welfare-state. In addition a plethora of religious institutions began to spring up in areas with larger numbers of Muslims. To understand the nature of these early institutions, research by Lewis (2002, 76-112) is useful as he focuses on Muslim institutions in just one city, Bradford. His study reveals the complexity of these institutions and emphasises the sectarian divides between Muslim groups. Deobandi, Barelvi and Jamate-Islami traditions were all represented and had separate agendas and ideas of how to progress the Islamic cause.
Encapsulated within these two movements from Muslim groups and successive British governments lies a set of relationships embodying what is now understood to be British multiculturalism. Black and ethnic minority communities are still under-represented in mainstream politics in Britain today, but in the 1970s when Race Relations legislation was being passed, the situation was more pressing still. Simultaneously Race Relations Councils were being established to further the anti-racist agenda and in 1976 these became known as Community Relations Councils (Panayi 2010, 270). By 1991, Race Equality Councils had been established receiving an initial £4.5 million of funding (ibid, 270). Inclusion of minorities was becoming part of public policy, funding was available but democratic
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representation of minorities was lacking. This situation necessitated the rise of advocates for ‘community’ groups, whose input would help direct equality and race-relations policies, and reach minorities. This advocacy is accepted by many to be a particular characteristic of multiculturalism, yet its rationale provokes an intense debate among social theorists. Modood et al. (2002) published an influential paper on this subject arguing that ethnic background was indeed a legitimate basis for sociological separation and groupings, one that can objectively be constructed through family- backgrounds of individuals. In response, Smith (2002) suggested that such categorisations must always be self-selected and argued that the use of ethnicity to group individuals was inherently flawed due to the difficulty of applying labels to complex ‘ethnic’ identities.
In many ways the debate around multiculturalism embodies a common post-modern conundrum: by deconstructing the categories to which society has become accustomed, policies, such as ethnic monitoring, whose operation depends on broad assessment, become undermined. By recognising specific ethnic groups as legitimate and distinctive, it became possible and normative to collect statistics on how those groups fared within British society. In tackling racism and discrimination, these groups became the vehicles for anti-racist policy. Kundanani (2002 cited in Cole 2003) identifies this as being the start of ‘state-funded multiculturalism’ in the 1980s when ethnic representatives became welcome in town halls and policy-making circles. Discourse is ultimately productive and this institutionally recognised set of identities would not only be reflected but reproduced by multicultural policy. May (2005, 13-14) is highly critical of this ethnic representation as an essentialising process which goes against the grain of prevalent post-modern theories of identity, which instead emphasise hybridity, syncretism and the fluidity of identity construction (May 2005, 14; Gilroy 1987). Whilst staunch supporters of the multicultural mode such as Modood (2005b, 194-195)do not reject identities as being fluid constructions, they argue that minorities should be free and able to select those ethnic groups with which they choose to identify, and that the state should assist in this self-identification process. Modood (ibid, 195) describes this self-selection as
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associational identity and claims that it has the potential empower ethnic-minority citizens to engage in political processes.
Although the debate around ethnic identification continues today, group-based approaches to ethnic minority inclusion became commonplace by the late-1980s. Up until this point Muslims were represented largely as Pakistanis, Bangladeshis and Indians rather than being categorised by their faith. The bulk of research on new migrants tended to be statistical and focussed on socio-economics rather than culture and religion. If Muslim communities existed then they were not necessarily discussed or portrayed as such, but rather grouped with their fellow migrants from South Asia. Muslims were in this respect an invisible group within British society, with not even a single elected member of parliament in their constituency. For the British government to really start to distinguish between Asian populations and recognise Muslims, it would take a controversy sparked by an Indian writer, an Iranian fatwa and a global outcry.