For more than twenty-five years, an uneasy peace has held firm in Northern Ireland. Since 1998’s Good Friday Agreement, the province has largely avoided the kind of pervasive political violence which characterised much of the late 20th century there — but this state of affairs is by no means ideal. Stormont’s political system exists in a near-constant state of dysfunction, paramilitary drug gangs continue to loom large in particular neighbourhoods, and efforts to integrate Protestants and Catholics remain broadly unsuccessful. 

And yet on Saturday, Protestant loyalists and Catholic nationalists alike stood shoulder-to-shoulder in Belfast, united in a march against mass migration. The protest culminated in clashes with pro-Palestinian activists and police outside City Hall, as Irish tricolours were flown alongside Union Jacks. For some in Northern Ireland, historic divisions are clearly less important than contemporary challenges. As the old saying goes, better the devil you know than the devil you don’t. 

This bizarre alliance should come as no surprise. What we are witnessing, in both Northern Ireland and in England, is a reshaping of traditional identities and political affiliations in response to a new and existential challenge. Old animosities and alliances are beginning to break down, as mass migration changes the character of our societies and reshapes political norms. 

Unpicking all of this can be challenging. Rather than thinking about our political system from the perspective of an insider, laden with all of the baggage that this confers, it can sometimes be useful to step back and analyse the modern British political system as if it were that of a foreign country. Put aside your knowledge of the particular local dynamics of these islands, and it quickly becomes clear how we reached this position. 

Over the past few decades, we have opened our doors to millions of people from countries with very different cultural, ethical, and political norms. Rather than encouraging assimilation, or radically reducing the levels of immigration to this country, the British establishment has pursued a deliberate policy of multiculturalism, whereby the state mediates its relationship with minority groups through discrete institutions.

As a result, we have quietly developed a millet-style system, through which the Government manages relations with minority communities. Many racial or religious minority groups now have separate schools, separate courts, and separate “community liaison” organisations within local police forces. Government has become accustomed to dealing with national representative bodies, such as the Muslim Council of Britain or Hindu Council UK, which presume to speak on behalf of these groups. The principal role of the state is to keep the peace between different groups, and to enable communities to resolve internal disputes themselves. 

The one notable absence from this millet-style arrangement is the country’s cultural majority, which largely organises itself on the basis of individuals and families rather than on the basis of “communities”. This group is expected to channel its political activism through national democratic processes, and is managed by judicial, educational, and policing institutions which are broadly secular and pluralist. There is no official recognition that this group has distinct, shared interests. 

When democracy falters, groups have increasingly turned to disorderly — sometimes violent — protest in order to advance their interests

Increasingly, this millet-style approach is visible at the ballot box too. At the last election, Muslim voters abandoned Labour in droves. Many threw their support behind pro-Palestinian independents who picked up seats in Blackburn, Leicester, Birmingham, and Dewsbury, and came close in half a dozen other seats. Hindu voters, meanwhile, backed the Tories, delivering the party’s only gain of the night in Leicester South, and propelling Bob Blackman to a comfortable majority in Harrow East. Meanwhile, for the time being, the majority continues to vote on the basis of individual interest, eschewing communitarian politics. 

And yet when democracy falters, groups have increasingly turned to disorderly — sometimes violent — protest in order to advance their interests. For protestors of all stripes, disruption is used as a technique to induce the Government to action, or simply to express dissatisfaction with the system. This is a natural conclusion of a political and institutional culture which encourages groups to develop distinct interests and concerns. 

These protests take a few different forms. There are protests used to express general “anti-system” sentiment, such as in Harehills a few weeks ago, and there are protests used to litigate internal disputes, such as the intra-Bangladeshi rioting that took place in Whitechapel on the same night. Sometimes, two groups clash, as happened between Muslims and Hindus in Leicester just a few years ago.

Most often though, minority protests are designed to agitate for special treatment, or to advocate for a particular sectarian concern. Since October 2023, we have seen both protest and attempted intimidation from largely Muslim pro-Palestine activists, which have been designed to influence the Government’s position on the ongoing conflict in Gaza. In recent days, we’ve seen Muslim vigilante groups form in places like Blackburn and Stoke, with the explicit aim of fighting anti-immigration protestors on behalf of the Muslim community. 

Whatever the cause of these protests, the state sees its primary role as peace-keeping and containment; the overriding aim is to prevent spillover. 

Occasionally, elements of the majority, usually disaffected members of the white working-class, lash out against the system. Old political dynamics — Tory versus Labour, Unionist versus Nationalist — fall by the wayside. In recent days, we’ve seen anti-immigration riots and protests in Blackpool, Hull, Liverpool, and elsewhere, in response to the murder of three young girls in Southport by a 17-year old of Rwandan descent. 

There is, however, one crucial difference between minority and majority protests. When the majority protests, the state feels empowered to crack down; it recognises that the backlash to taking action here is likely to be less severe than action taken against minority groups, given the individuated nature of the majority. Of course, Governments should aim to tackle any and all disorder — especially when lives are endangered — but this difference in approach lends credence to the idea of “two-tier policing” which has become so prevalent amongst the political right in recent years.  

Of course, the political establishment in Westminster is largely insulated from these provincial flare-ups. From the relative safety of their London homes, they advocate for ever-harsher crackdowns on the majority and ever-greater concessions to minorities. Just ask former Labour MP Lord Walney, who has called for a Covid-style crackdown on the recent wave of disorder.

Sectarianism, crackdowns, violence, ethnic tension — this is a political heuristic unfamiliar to many in Britain, but deeply typical in much of the world. Against this backdrop, it shouldn’t surprise us that time-honoured norms are falling by the wayside.

Unfortunately, too few frontline politicians want to recognise this new reality, or the change in strategy that it necessitates. As a country, we are travelling down a very dark and dangerous path, and there is no end in sight. This new Labour government looks set to continue our disastrous experiment with mass migration, and shows no sign of a plan to address our overcrowded prisons or our inadequate approach to policing. Piecemeal, one-sided crackdowns are no replacement for clear, consistent maintenance of law and order; Starmer is unevenly overreacting to a short-term crisis, and underreacting to long-term pressures. 

In the likely event that Israel escalates its campaign against Hezbollah in Lebanon, things are only going to get worse. The mass demonstrations that we’ve seen across the country in response to the war in Gaza will have a renewed impetus — in this new, febrile context, protests could quickly turn violent. In future, events abroad will play a disproportionate role in our politics, both on the streets and at the ballot box, as new arrivals remain tethered to the politics of their home countries. 

When the next flashpoint comes, the tinder box of modern Britain will reignite

I wish that I could end this article on a happy note. When winter comes and the weather gets colder, things will begin, for a time, to feel calmer. The tense atmosphere of this hot, muggy summer will subside and our politicians will forget all about the violence that ruled British streets over the past few weeks. Yet resentment will bubble under the surface, the overarching trends driving this change will continue to tick along — and when the next flashpoint comes, the tinder box of modern Britain will reignite. If nothing changes, this will be our new normal.