No other single action on the world stage has mobilised second and third generation British Asians as quickly or fiercely as the invasion of Gaza. Not Iraq, not 9/11, not the de Menezes shooting, nothing.
Within hours the call to join demonstrations started, by text, email and Facebook. My invites came only from British Asian friends—mainly, but not exclusively, from "cultural" Muslims like me; often from the normally politically inactive, even from politically dormant suburban young mums. Old family friends who hadn't contacted me for years, and who couldn't possibly know where I stood on Palestine, got in touch, secure in an unspoken assumption that any right-thinking Asian would be on their side.
Although I was shocked by the civilian deaths in Gaza, this assumption quickly rankled. I stopped opening the bloodied baby corpse attachments. The unsubtle antisemitic undertone of calls for a Donna Karan boycott didn't help.
I stayed away from the first march, blaming editorial deadlines. Soon a message from my own mother arrived, and she is a long-time supporter of the Palestinian struggle: "Did you demonstrate for Gaza?" How to reply? How to convey my qualms, which could so easily be misinterpreted as mere apathy?
In truth, the reaction among British Asians set alarm bells ringing. I couldn't shake the feeling that this kneejerk identification with the Palestinians was less than pure—and that I had no business marching until I'd finally interrogated my secondhand politics.
My own parents' allegiance was rooted both in anti-imperialism and Muslim solidarity. And for them it is hard to overestimate the significance of the Palestinian struggle. At home, books by Robert Fisk and pamphlets from Medical Aid for Palestine sat on our bookshelf, alongside the Koran.
But I've never felt any such special solidarity. I've never understood why injustice against Muslims is more or less relevant to me than injustice against non-Muslims. Why is Gaza such a touch-paper issue for my generation, over all the others affecting Muslims and non-Muslims alike?
I've read that many young Muslims cleave to Gaza because of cultural confusion, which leads in turn to emotional outbursts. Perhaps. Also important is the galvanising force of new digital networks—honed throughout the Iraq war—which can now mobilise large groups, and public anger, with great speed.
But underneath, it seems that the reaction is rooted in the role of the west, and the long heritage of this struggle. As one friend put it: "It's about the west's unquestioning financial and political support. The Balkans didn't get me as angry as this because it seemed more of an internal war. It wasn't allowed to drag on for 60 years."
Some of my most vivid childhood memories are of my parents shouting at the television news. We are a generation who were told by our parents that this was and is an attack on Islam not only by Jews but also by the west. Many of us were weaned on powerful antisemitic narratives too.
But let's look on the bright side. While my parents vented their anger in front of the evening news, young Asians today feel empowered to protest in public. The response to Gaza shows that young British Asians have a more confident British identity than their parents—they feel more able to speak out through direct political action. I only hope that my generation can learn to come out in force so impressively on behalf of non-Muslims too.
