Segregated Britain. Farhaan Wali
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religiosity is contingent on the interchange between individuals recurring encounters and experiences within society (Schieman, 2008). In the case of second- and third-generation Muslim identity, I tentatively assume a stable core identity structure does not direct it because, as Schumann (2011) suggests, the settlement has generated ‘hybrid identities’. These multiple identities allow the individual to define for themselves who they are within different social settings, but this can often lead to dual loyalties and conflict.
Consequently, the failure to establish stable identities can cultivate disaffection among some young Muslims who may become marginalised through socialisation. More significantly, radical Islamist groups, offer some young Muslims a strong core identity based on religiosity. In this regard, activists view themselves as symbolic disciples of Islam (Wali, 2013). In a broader context, young Muslims that contextualise religion as a core ←17 | 18→element of their identity often dichotomise the ‘other’ in antagonistic terms, posing a threat to their religious heritage. From a historical perspective, the British Empire often ‘privileged religious identities’ in order to exert control, ‘which inevitably helped to sharpen distinctions between Muslim and non-Muslim’ (Robinson, 1998, p. 5). This contextualisation of India had a continuing influence in the way migrants to Britain were categorised according to ethno-religious markers.
This is greatly compounded by the broad struggle of young Muslims ‘to discover how to be a Muslim as a minority in a non-Muslim society’ (Lewis, 2007, p. 6). Stratham (2003) equates the rise in overt religious affiliation amongst some Muslims to two interconnected social realities: (1) Islam seeks to assert itself within the public realm, and (2) Muslim identity formation is an acute response to social deprivation and discrimination. In regards to the latter, Muslim self-consciousness is often reinforced by negative media stereotypes. The public vilification of Muslim belief and practice tends to lead to introverted responses: ‘Muslim communities closing ranks’ (Samad, 1996, p. 97). Similarly, Ballard (1996) believes the marginalisation of Muslims from the majority culture has triggered a reaffirmation of religion. This is because young Muslims perceive their religious identity to be under constant threat, and not their ethnicity, resulting in greater mobility towards Muslim identity. This movement away from ethno-identity labels is exacerbated by the declining attachment to South Asia, as a cultural and linguistic reference point. As Samad (2004, p. 17) suggests, ‘identification with Pakistan and Bangladesh – countries that young people may only briefly visit – becomes less significant and Muslim as an identity becomes more important’. In this respect, religious identity, Gardner and Shuker (1994, p. 164) explain, ‘provides both a positive identity, in which solidarity can be found, together with an escape from the oppressive tedium of being constantly identified in negative terms’.
The examination of religious affiliation and identity amongst young Muslims in Britain has its inherent problems. As Lewis (2007, p. 1) explains, there is a tendency to miniaturise young South Asian identity to ‘one single affiliation’, namely their religious makeup. This is quite dangerous as Muslim identity is bound to different threads, as Lewis (2007, p. 2) points out: ‘for some, their “Muslimness” is as much “cultural” as religious … for others, it ←18 | 19→is a vehicle of “identity politics”’. Thus, pinpointing a coherent connection between an increase in religiosity – in terms of religious practice – and as a source of identity is not easy and highly complicated (Samad, 2004). In his most seminal piece, Lewis (2002) sets out in his research to explore the inner dynamics of Muslim communities in Britain, focusing on Bradford as his case study. His work has provided my research with some valuable insights. In particular, he observes ‘signs of a British Muslim culture developing’ (2002, p. 209). This would suggest that young Muslims are actively trying to negotiate and merge diverse elements of their ethno-religious cultural roots with the complexities and realities of modern Britain. Significantly, Lewis (2002, p. 207) points out; this process has ‘bypassed the ulama’, which means young Muslims are searching for identity solutions beyond traditional religious institutions and structures. It is clear from the cursory review of the literature concerning young Muslims that Islam remains a salient feature of identity construction, but this does not necessarily mean it leads to an increase in religiosity or radicalism. Thus, as Samad (2010) argues, the development of Muslim identification becomes more visible and prominent when young people acquire a sense of becoming British (Samad, 2010).
At first sight, it might be difficult to rationalise why some Muslims in Britain want to live in separate communities. It is apparent Muslims in this part of the world contend with an array of issues concerning ‘identity, the adaptation of religio-cultural norms and values, and issues of everyday citizenship’ (Abbas, 2007, p. 3). Attachment to Muslim enclaves is a multifaceted phenomenon, which in turn, raises questions concerning ‘whether Muslims can be or are willing to be integrated into European society and political values’ (Modood, 2005, p. viii). In particular, two identifiable conditions are commonly cited as catalysts for enclave formation and attachment: discrimination and deprivation (Wolff, 2003; Suarez-Orozco et al., 2014; Mickey, 2015). Despite the fact these two interrelated conditions have been developed and argued within a specific socio-political and economic frame, they do not deplete the entire range of literature. According to some social theorists, enclaves seemingly appear to flourish in response to the host country’s perceived hostility (Lin and Mele, 2005; Alberts, 2003). Thus, first- and second-generation Muslims who experience ←19 | 20→political, social and economic dislocation due to discrimination may opt to live in the Muslim enclave.
Relative Deprivation: Social, Political and Economic
Relative deprivation, a theory strongly equated to Gurr (1970), is frequently mentioned as a salient cause of Muslim segregation in Britain (Ferrero, 2005). Socio-economic and political dissent is often exacerbated by the realisation that the gap between what Muslims expect to obtain from society and what they get is entirely different. The bleak realities of Muslim social life in the UK – such as high unemployment and low academic attainment – foster a sense of dissatisfaction and frustration (Modood et al., 1997). Supposedly, these socio-economic conditions provide a fundamental prerequisite for segregation. However, formulating such a causal link between segregation and deprivation is somewhat problematic. Many middle-class Muslims that I spoke to in the East End, for example, explained how they elected to remain in the East End, despite having residential options to move to middle-class areas. This suggests that cultural embeddedness may transcend some aspects of the economic condition, as middle-class residence explained: ‘it is better to live with your own people’.
In terms of socio-political dislocation from the wider society, it is argued that Muslims struggle to integrate at the political level (Modood, 2005). In particular, there appears to be a disproportionate representation of Muslims within the institutional structures of government, making it difficult to identify with the political system. As a result, young Muslims feel considerably detached from the political process, creating less integrated citizens (Twenge et al., 2007). This feeling of exclusion can foster a sense of not belonging, which brings into question issues of citizenship and identity. As mentioned earlier, the Rushdie Affair brought a number of these grievances to the fore, in particular, the ‘negative reaction to the anti-Rushdie campaign shocked Muslims’ (McRoy 2006, p. 25). This incident highlighted some of the glaring cultural and ideological differences between Muslims and non-Muslims in British society. As McRoy (2006, ←20 | 21→p. 25) affirmed, the Rushdie Affair exposed ‘a clash of values’. The state’s refusal to extend Blasphemy Laws beyond its existing remit to include Muslim religious beliefs inflated Muslim dislocation in some quarters. Firstly, it inspired a rededication to religious belief and practice, which to some degree resulted in the prioritising of Muslim identity (Lewis, 1994). Secondly, the perceived intransigence of the legal process and the lack of access to the political system encouraged some Muslims to seek out more extreme forms of politics. Beyond the national setting, globalised events like the genocide in Bosnia and the Iraq war animated Muslims into political activism. The refusal of the government to intervene within the breakup of the former Yugoslavia, despite significant efforts to lobby the government by British Muslims, seemed to perpetuate a sense of double standard and did little to encourage political integration. In the aftermath of the northern riots (2001), a key ingredient in the civil unrest appeared to be a lack of social and political integration (Denham, 2002). National events, like the disturbances in the north of England