Disinformation helped fuel the Troubles in Northern Ireland — it now drives far-right violence across the UK

Flag-waving, so-called patriots claim the reasons for their economic woes can be attributed to foreigners. They once blamed the Irish

Photo by Matchett/Mirrorpix via Getty Images
Attacks on British Muslims by far-right racists show the Irish experience did not occur in isolation, writes Darran Anderson. Pictured is the aftermath of a riot in Belfast in August 1971. Photography by Matchett/Mirrorpix via Getty Images

Witnessing the anti-Muslim and anti-immigration riots in Southport, Manchester, London and other towns and cities over the past few days, I’ve felt a sickening sense of history repeating itself. I grew up in Derry during the Troubles, a city scarred by the presence of military checkpoints, burnt out houses and bombed out shops. Disinformation was everywhere. Catholics were told that the conflict was the product of a tribal blood feud. British governments hid evidence of the state-sanctioned murder of ordinary civilians and endless civil rights violations. 

So after far-right activists wrongly blamed an asylum seeker for the horrific killings of three children in Southport, the footage of rioters vandalising a mosque in the area made it clear that the lessons from Northern Ireland belong not to the past but rather the future. Over the following days, I watched anti-immigration rioters ransack shops and set fire to a hotel in Rotherham. Some of us have lived through years of such conspiracy-fuelled division and know where it leads. 

The history of immigration often leaves few traces on a host country’s landscape. Much like the presence of Muslims in the UK, London retains few signs of centuries of Irish migration. From the living hell of the poverty of St Giles Rookery in the 1800s, to the tough neighbourhoods of Kilburn and Finsbury Park in the 70s and 80s, there is scant acknowledgement of Irish contributions to the UK’s capital, including the construction of the London Underground and the gleaming glass tower blocks of Canary Wharf. 

Instead, many working-class Irish experienced outright derision and contempt in daily life. Irish people in London were regularly barred from public spaces like pubs and lodging houses, spat at, assaulted and told to go back to where they came from. We were also the victims of grave miscarriages of justice like the Birmingham Six and the Guildford Four, and blamed for each act of IRA violence. 

Some of this anti-Irish sentiment was spurred on by the politicians of the day. In 1988, then prime minister Margaret Thatcher said Ireland was home to the “biggest concentration of terrorists in the world”, adding that they “come looking for housing and services”. Just as Muslims are sometimes viewed as dangerous outsiders who are a drain on national resources, we were also accused of being a threat to the British way of life. 

Attacks on British Muslims by far-right racists show us that the Irish experience did not occur in isolation. The religious and class divides that once kept Northern Irish Catholics out of jobs and housing in the UK, creating a rift with other working-class groups, are still visible today. The flag-waving, so-called patriots behind the recent violence once blamed the Irish, but now claim the reasons for their immiseration — poor wages, a lack of access to decent housing and healthcare — are largely down to the arrival of the latest group of immigrants. In recent days, the sight of signs demanding “House Brits on waiting lists” and “Stop the invasion” has invoked the bad old days of “No Blacks, no dogs, no Irish” and “Irish need not apply”. 

The violence has also shown how social media can be weaponised to scapegoat immigrants. But disinformation about minority groups existed long before X or TikTok. When seeking to demonise one group and incite another, fear of the future is an essential component. Far-right groups have announced a number of demonstrations over the next few months across the UK. The advertisement for a “Pro-UK Rally” in Glasgow in September states: “This will remain a peaceful protest to share our distrust and fear of the future.” Again, there’s a feeling we’ve been here before. Democratic Unionist Party leader Paisley was speaking 50 years ago when he said Catholics “breed like rabbits” and “multiply like vermin” — today’s online racists say Muslims form part of the “great replacement” theory. 

Similarly, the unspooling of unrest across the UK in the last week has anti-Catholic precedents. The Gordon Riots of 1780, the worst street disturbances ever experienced in London, occurred in response to Protestant objections to the relaxing of discriminatory laws against Catholics. In a week-long orgy of violence fuelled by conspiracies of Catholic treason, hundreds of Catholic churches and homes were razed to the ground. 

Anti-Irish rhetoric abounded in many other spheres of public life. The monument to the 1666 Great Fire of London once had the following accusation against Catholics engraved upon it: “But Popish frenzy, which wrought such horrors, is not yet quenched.” The Irish were also blamed for the spread of disease: typhus outbreaks were named “Irish fever”. When Catholic homes were incinerated in Loyalist pogroms in Belfast, Paisley claimed, “[they] caught fire because they were loaded with petrol bombs”. In 2024, the UK’s so-called patriots foment similar divisions by claiming evidence of Muslim military training camps or inner-city “no-go” areas. 

Britain is clearly in a state of managed decline. The newly elected Labour government offers perhaps a slower form of atrophy, lacking the asset-stripping austerity and shameless kleptocracy of the last 14 years. This stagnation means that economic discontent will continue to be amplified in the echo chambers of social media platforms. To say racism is not a driving factor in the current unrest would be deluded. But to overlook the spectre of Islamophobia in the violence would be equally dangerous. 

Growing up, I saw UK newspapers regularly warn of fresh Irish atrocities about to be unleashed on the British public — “Horror of the child terrorists” (the Mirror), “Bomb-throwing eight year olds” (the Sun). Sections of the UK media now similarly offer readers an algorithm of anti-Muslim clickbait. Claims that any criticism of Muslims is merely a democratic critique of Islam is often a disingenuous sleight of hand by pseudo-intellectuals posing as inheritors of the Enlightenment. There’s equally too much ill-informed commentary about the perceived radicalisation of Muslims in the wake of the ongoing crisis in the Middle East.

As we learned in Northern Ireland, while rumours and disinformation leave many open to manipulation, political parties must carry their share of the blame. Years of national and local budget cuts have left many working-class citizens of all ethnicities without the chance of advancement through hard work, and pushed many into poverty. This has left already stretched local organisations — including places of worship and volunteer groups — to run food banks, rehab centres and other vital social services. The Nasir Mosque in Hartlepool, targeted by far-right protesters last week, has donated over 25,000 meals to the town’s food insecure residents.

In the weeks ahead, there will be much talk of measured responses, but radical approaches are needed to address these challenges. Anything else will be viewed as a panacea or a delaying strategy. Many of these conversations need to take place in Northern Ireland: Belfast was the scene of some horrific violent anti-immigrant disorder in the past week. Change everywhere must begin with defying fear and overcoming those who sow its poisoned crop.

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