It wasn’t surprising to hear newly elected Reform MP Sarah Pochin call for a ban on the burqa – such calls resurface from time to time.
What was surprising, however, was her decision to use her very first parliamentary question to raise this issue, rather than ask about pressing concerns such as the cost of living, NHS pressures or the rise in crime levels. Instead, she chose to single out and stigmatise Muslim women, making unfounded claims about public safety.
On reflection, though, Prime Minister’s Questions (PMQs) provided a high-profile national platform, making it an ideal stage to stir further negativity towards Muslims.
Unsurprisingly, Suella Braverman, known for her history of making disparaging remarks about Muslims, quickly added her voice.
Targeting Muslims has become a convenient marketing tool for some right-wing politicians – a tactic used to gain support, attract media attention and generate publicity, regardless of the real-life consequences.
Only a tiny minority of Muslim women in Britain have adopted the face veil (niqab) or the burqa – a long garment covering the entire body from head to foot, including the face.
With a Muslim population of around four million, there has been no formal attempt to measure how many women wear the veil – but estimates suggest the number is likely to be only in the hundreds or low thousands. Similarly, in other European countries, estimates range from just 300 to 2,000. So why does such a small number attract so much public and political attention?
The most common arguments used to justify prohibiting the veil in public are actually irrational. Tired and prejudiced tropes are used, such as suggesting women are being forced to wear the veil and need to be “liberated”, that it is a threat to public safety, that it is an obstacle to integration, or that it is simply visually offensive.
Let’s examine each of these claims more closely.
Debates around women who wear the face veil are often driven by assumptions rather than grounded in evidence. In reality, the vast majority of Muslim women who choose to wear it do so voluntarily and for a variety of reasons – religious, cultural or personal. For many, it’s an expression of faith, identity, modesty or spiritual commitment. Some even find it empowering, as it shifts the focus from appearance to character.
Yes, there are cases where women may be pressured or forced to wear the veil – but these are instances of domestic abuse and coercive control, which require targeted support and awareness, not sweeping bans. I run the Muslim Women’s Network Helpline, and in our 10 years of service, we’ve encountered only a handful of such cases.
Concerns about identity concealment are often tied to public safety, yet there is no credible evidence linking the burqa to security threats in the UK.
Security protocols already exist in sensitive settings (e.g. banks, airports and courts), where face coverings may need to be removed temporarily for identification purposes – and such situations are managed respectfully and without incident. This public safety narrative seems more about stoking fear than addressing real risks.
Also, why is there so much anxiety about the anonymity of veiled Muslim women, especially in a world where much of our communication now happens online – through emails, social media and digital platforms – where anonymity is commonplace?
Many people conceal their identities online to spread misinformation or abuse, yet this form of anonymity rarely provokes the same level of scrutiny by the same politicians.
Claims that a burqa ban will promote community cohesion and integration are likely to have the opposite effect – deepening divisions instead. When any group feels threatened or pressured to conform through such hostile measures, they are more likely to become even more attached to how they express their identity.
For the small minority of women who wear the veil, it may bring personal, social or economic challenges, but it remains their choice. Meanwhile, the vast majority of Muslim women who do not wear the veil continue to face significant social and economic barriers that are often overlooked.
If concerns about integration and community cohesion were genuine, politicians would prioritise addressing the systemic discrimination and inequalities these women regularly experience.
Some argue the burqa should be banned because it is considered offensive. Not everything that is offensive is prohibited.
For example, in the UK, the right to offend is protected as part of freedom of speech, allowing the expression of unpopular or controversial views provided no harm is caused and laws are not broken.
Similarly, while some may find the burqa visually offensive, the right of Muslim women to express their identity in this way must also be respected, because their clothing does not harm anyone.
It is clearly a frightening time for Muslim women, especially those who are visibly identifiable by their clothing.
Coded language by politicians that normalises hostility towards Muslims, fuels fear and hatred, and deepens societal intolerance, is making them feel unsafe.
I therefore urge parliamentarians across all political parties to reject divisive rhetoric and commit instead to policies that address gendered anti-Muslim discrimination.
Muslim women must be empowered to make independent choices about their own bodies – whatever those choices may be – and they must be able to live with dignity and equality.
