That Tahir Ali, a backbench Labour MP for Birmingham Hall Green and Moseley, could stand up in the House of Commons and openly demand the reintroduction of blasphemy laws to “prohibit the desecration of all religious texts and the prophets of the Abrahamic religions” was disgraceful enough. What was even worse was Keir Starmer’s pedestrian response that “desecration is awful” and that his government was “committed to tackling all forms of hatred and division”, rather than bluntly answering the question with a simple and firm no. Blasphemy laws have no place in a liberal democracy – as we claim to be – and his party shouldn’t countenance them.
This wasn’t even the first time a MP has called for blasphemy laws in Parliament in recent years. In 2021, Naz Shah called for punishment to be dished out to those who “defame, slander or abuse our Prophet”. And Ali’s intervention was did not occur without a context. Britain has not had de jure blasphemy laws since 2008 (though they still exist in Northern Ireland). Yet, we do operate under a creeping de facto blasphemy taboo thanks to a series of outrages involving intimidation and threats of violence.
In 2021, a teacher at Batley Grammar School was forced into hiding – and, disgracefully for our society, appears to still be there – after he received death threats for showing cartoons of the prophet Muhammad in class. In that same year, there were protests outside cinemas against the film, The Lady of Heaven, in Birmingham, Bradford and Sheffield, for supposedly portraying Aisha, one of the wives of Muhammad, in a disparaging light. Tellingly, Cineworld cancelled its screenings “to ensure the safety of our staff and customers”. Last year, in Wakefield, four pupils were suspended from a secondary school after a copy of the Koran was scuffed. An autistic boy involved in the affair received death threats, leading to his mother’s appearance alongside police in the local mosque, apologising for her child’s “disrespectful” behaviour.
Tahir Ali was mindful to couch his demand in inclusive language so as to not come across as blatantly sectarian. But given he prefaced his remarks with a mention of Islamophobia Awareness Month and by citing a recent UN Human Rights Council resolution condemning the desecration of the Koran, it is obvious his interests weren’t ecumenical, but to protect one particular religion: Islam. The implicit argument in favour of blasphemy laws is that is that they’ll help maintain “social cohesion” and civil tranquillity in a diverse society like ours. In other words, they’ll enforce a multicultural decorum between different “communities”. Every community has its taboos, don’t they? So, why not institutionalise respect for them in law?
Because this makes a mockery of pluralism. Living in a truly liberal, diverse society inevitably means confronting beliefs and opinions that offend and challenge yours to the core. That’s the price you pay for living in a free society. And part of the reason these blasphemy outrages can be so unsettling to many liberals is that they represent a profound culture clash. When a believing Muslim earnestly says that any “blasphemy” against the Prophet is a profound assault on his honour and that of all Muslims, liberals simply don’t comprehend the theological profundity of the sentiment. That is because they underestimate the intensity of belief and depth of emotion behind it, and are disarmed from properly confronting it.
Ever since Voltaire, we have understood that one of the essential conditions of a free society is the ability to poke fun at religious authority. Mockery of religion demystifies its supposed holy pretensions and reveals it as a man-made myth, containing all the ironies, flaws and absurdities that come with human existence. The criticism of religion is beginning of all criticism, as Karl Marx said. If you can’t criticise, mock and satirise religion and its icons, then you can’t criticise, mock and satirise anything.
What’s more, blasphemy laws will not protect Muslims from racism or religious hatred. They only lead to absurdity and hypocrisy. They don’t protect the vulnerable; instead they are weaponised by wannabe “community spokesmen” to stigmatise and silence dissenters (The Lady of Heaven film was made by Shia Muslims but faced a campaign of intimidation from Sunni fundamentalists thanks to a sectarian squabble). But a simple and universal principle is at stake here: religions that make extraordinary claims for themselves should face ruthless criticism – and see if they are able to withstand it.
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