When Political Correctness Kills

Mirpuri Men and Britain's Betrayal of Working-Class White Girls

When Pakistani MP Ayoub Khan dismissed Pakistani grooming gangs as a "false right-wing narrative," the outrage that followed missed a crucial historical context. His denial, with fellow Pakistani Labour MP Tahir Ali sitting silently beside him, wasn't merely political manoeuvring. It was the continuation of a pattern that stretches back decades, a pattern that reveals uncomfortable truths about how cultural violence can transpose itself across continents and generations.

The dismissive wave of Khan's hand during his speech in Birmingham in support of an airport in Mirpur wasn't just the gesture of a politician deflecting criticism. It was emblematic of a deeper, more troubling reality: the systematic erasure of victims whose stories don't fit neatly into contemporary political narratives. When Khan characterised the well-documented cases of grooming gangs as nothing more than right-wing fabrications, he wasn't just denying facts, he was continuing a tradition of silencing victims that has historical precedent within the very cultural contexts he represents.

What makes this denial particularly jarring is not just its brazenness but its context. Britain has spent years reckoning with these cases, from Rotherham to Rochdale, from Telford to Oxford. Multiple independent investigations, court cases, and victim testimonies have established beyond reasonable doubt the existence and nature of these crimes. Yet here was an elected representative, sworn to uphold truth and justice, casually dismissing the lived experiences of tens of thousands of young adults gang raped as children by Pakistani men.

And beside him sat Labour MP Tahir Ali, his silence as damning as Khan's words. In that moment of quiet complicity, we witnessed a microcosm of the broader institutional failures that allowed these abuses to continue for decades: the police who looked away, the social workers who feared being labelled racist, the politicians who calculated electoral advantage against child safety, and ultimately decided that some children were simply sacrifice-worthy collateral in Britain's culture wars.

A Documented History of Violence

Pakistan's history with sexual violence isn't incidental. During the 1971 Bangladesh Liberation War, men primarily from Mirpur and Punjabi clans orchestrated a systematic ethnic cleansing campaign. Hundreds of thousands of Bangladeshi women and children were gang raped over nine months. These weren't random acts of war but calculated atrocities justified through religious supremacy. The International Crimes Tribunals have documented these war crimes extensively.

The Liberation War remains one of the most devastating examples of sexual violence used as military strategy in modern history. Pakistani forces, particularly those from the Mirpur region and associated Punjabi clans, implemented rape as a deliberate weapon of war. The systematic nature of these atrocities cannot be overstated - military commanders explicitly sanctioned sexual violence, including the gang rape of children, as a means of terrorising the Bengali population and asserting ethnic dominance. These weren't the aberrant actions of undisciplined soldiers; they were calculated strategies designed to break the spirit of a people fighting for independence.

‘We lay like corpses. Then the raping began’: 52 years on, Bangladesh’s rape camp survivors speak out

In 1971, the Pakistan army began a brutal crackdown against Bengalis in which hundreds of thousands of women were detained and repeatedly brutalised. Only now are their stories beginning to be told

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Survivor testimonies paint a horrific picture of organised brutality. Women and girls as young as eight were abducted from villages, held in military "rape camps," and subjected to continuous sexual torture. Many victims were murdered after being raped; others were mutilated or branded to mark them as "spoiled." Those who survived faced ostracism upon returning to their communities, branded as "birangonas" or war heroines - a title meant to honour their suffering but which often served as a permanent mark of their violation.

The religious and cultural justifications for these atrocities are particularly relevant to understanding later patterns of abuse. Pakistani soldiers were told that Bengali women were "ganimater maal" (halal war booty). As religiously sanctioned spoils of war, the perpetrators believed they were permitted but entitled to violate "inferior" Bengali women. This ideological framework, combining religious supremacy with ethnic chauvinism, created a self-justifying system where rape became not just permissible but righteous in the minds of Pakistani men.

The uncomfortable question we must confront: Why are we surprised when men from these same regions, after relocating to Britain, brought with them ideological frameworks that religiously legitimises sexual violence against those they deem culturally inferior?

The patterns of justification - religious entitlement, cultural superiority, dehumanisation of victims - echo disturbing parallels between the atrocities in Bangladesh and the exploitation of vulnerable girls in British towns decades later.

These historical patterns don't implicate an entire diaspora, but they provide crucial context for understanding how specific cultural pathologies can manifest in new environments when left unexamined and unchallenged. The men who participated in Bangladesh's rape campaign weren't born inherently more violent than others, they were products of specific cultural and religious interpretations that sanctioned violence against the "other." When these same frameworks are transported to new contexts, they find new victims.

The Bangladeshi genocide has been acknowledged by international courts as one of history's most systematic campaigns of sexual violence. Yet while Britain rightfully commemorates other historical atrocities, this particular chapter remains conspicuously absent from our collective memory and education system. A silence that has consequences beyond historical amnesia.

From Bangladesh to Bradford

When Pakistani grooming gangs emerged in Rotherham, Rochdale, Telford, Oldham and other British towns and cities, they followed a disturbing pattern. The victims were predominantly working-class White girls - vulnerable, economically disadvantaged, and systematically ignored by authorities. The perpetrators justified their actions through a toxic combination of religious superiority and cultural contempt.

The migration patterns from Pakistan to Britain in the post-war period created concentrated communities in industrial towns across northern England and the Midlands. Significant numbers came from specific regions, including Mirpur in Kashmir, bringing with them not just their labour but their cultural frameworks and social hierarchies. These communities often remained relatively isolated, maintaining internal cohesion (aided through their cultural practice of first cousin marriage) while interacting with broader British society primarily through economic exchanges. From the outset, there was never any desire to integrate.

Within these enclaves, particular attitudes toward women, especially non-Muslim women, persisted and even calcified. Police investigations and court testimonies revealed a consistent pattern of perpetrators describing their victims in religiously charged terms as "white slags," "easy meat," and "worthless." These weren't merely crass insults but reflections of a worldview that placed "their women" on a protected pedestal while viewing "other women" as legitimate targets for exploitation.

The mechanics of the grooming operations revealed sophisticated networks rather than opportunistic individuals. Perpetrators typically operated in groups, with different men playing assigned roles: the "friendly" older boy who initiated contact, the provider of gifts and alcohol, the one who offered transportation, and ultimately, those who carried out and facilitated the rapes. This level of organisation and role-specialisation indicates not random criminality but calculated predation.

What made these networks particularly effective was how they were embedded within legitimate businesses. Taxi companies, takeaways, and small shops became not just covers but functional components of the abuse infrastructure. Taxis transported girls to "parties" where they would be violated; takeaways provided locations where grooming could begin and later exploitation could occur; shop owners offered gifts that created indebtedness. The integration of abuse with legitimate business created both physical spaces for exploitation and economic incentives that bound perpetrators together.

The victims' profiles reveal the predators' calculation. They specifically targeted girls from dysfunctional homes, those in council care, and those already vulnerable due to early trauma or neglect. They selected victims least likely to be believed, most desperate for affection, and most easily controlled through addiction, shame, and fear. This wasn't opportunistic, it was strategic predation based on intimate knowledge of which girls British society valued least.

This isn't about painting an entire community with the same brush. It's about acknowledging specific cultural pathologies that enable violence. The perpetrators weren't random Pakistani men but often came from regions and clan networks with documented histories of weaponising sexual violence. Many had extended family connections across multiple towns, creating networks that could traffic girls between locations and close ranks when investigations began.

Perhaps most disturbing were the familial connections among abusers. Court records show numerous cases where fathers and sons, uncles and nephews, and cousins participated in the same abuse networks. This generational involvement suggests that attitudes toward sexual exploitation were normalised within certain family systems where behaviours were taught and transmitted rather than individually deviant actions.

The cultural dimension becomes unavoidable when examining perpetrators' statements to victims. Girls were routinely told they would "bring shame" on their families while their abusers' families would protect them regardless of their actions. Perpetrators explicitly contrasted the "loose morals" of their victims with the "honour" of women in their own communities. A worldview that created separate moral categories for different women based on ethnicity and religion.

The connection to the historical patterns in Bangladesh isn't about claiming direct lineage between specific perpetrators and war criminals. Rather, it's about recognising how cultural frameworks that legitimise violence against the "other" can persist across generations and find new expressions in new environments, especially when receiving societies are too paralysed by political correctness and cultural sensitivity to confront them.

The Silence of Selective Morality

Our reluctance to confront these realities stems from this misguided notion of cultural sensitivity and political correctness. We fear the conversation might fuel broader anti-immigrant sentiment. But this silence has created a dangerous vacuum that right-wing extremists are all too eager to fill.

This paralysis of response operated at every level of British society. Police officers documented their reluctance to pursue cases for fear of being labelled racist. Social workers reported being instructed to prioritise cultural sensitivity over safeguarding concerns. Local councils buried reports highlighting the ethnic dimension of grooming gangs. Media outlets hesitated to cover stories that might inflame community tensions. The cumulative effect was a comprehensive institutional failure that prioritised political comfort over child protection.

The irony is that this silence didn't prevent far-right exploitation - it enabled it. By refusing to address these issues honestly, mainstream institutions ceded the territory of truth-telling to the very extremists they feared empowering. When official channels refuse to acknowledge evident realities, people don't stop seeking answers; they simply turn to whoever seems willing to speak honestly, regardless of their motives.

This created the perfect storm: vulnerable children being abused, authorities refusing to acknowledge the patterns, mainstream commentators avoiding the subject, and far-right agitators emerging as the only voices willing to name what was happening. For communities already feeling neglected by political elites, this combination confirmed their worst suspicions, that their children were considered acceptable sacrifices on the altar of multicultural harmony.

Meanwhile, in British classrooms, working-class children learned to feel collective guilt over the transatlantic slave trade, a historical atrocity most of their ancestors had no part in. Yet these same educational institutions remain silent about contemporary predators targeting children from their communities. This selective moral accounting creates a dangerous double standard.

Our educational system has embarked on commendable efforts to confront historical injustices, particularly around colonialism and slavery. Students learn in detail about Britain's role in the transatlantic slave trade, the exploitation of colonial subjects, and the moral complexities of empire. This historical reckoning is necessary and valuable. Understanding past injustices is crucial for building a more equitable future.

Yet this moral accounting becomes distorted when it's applied selectively. Working-class White children, often from the same communities most affected by grooming scandals, are taught to feel collective responsibility for historical exploitation while the contemporary exploitation of their sisters, cousins, and friends remains unacknowledged in the same classrooms.

This creates a poisonous dynamic where historical guilt becomes a tool for silencing present concerns. When communities affected by grooming scandals express anger about institutional failures, they're often met with accusations of racism or reminded of historical injustices perpetrated by their ancestors. As though past crimes somehow mitigate present ones or render certain victims less deserving of protection.

The selective application of collective responsibility has created a moral framework where some victims matter more than others based solely on their ethnicity. For communities already marginalised by deindustrialisation, austerity, and educational neglect, this hierarchy of victimhood feels like the ultimate betrayal. Their children's suffering isn't just ignored but implicitly justified through historical accounting.

What makes this particularly destructive is how it undermines the legitimate project of historical education. By creating a double standard where some contemporary abuses are confronted while others are ignored based on the perpetrators' identity, we transform important historical education into what feels like political weaponisation. This doesn't serve justice, historical or contemporary, but instead creates fertile ground for resentment and extremism.

A truly honest educational approach would acknowledge both historical injustices and contemporary ones, regardless of the identities of perpetrators or victims. It would teach children to recognise patterns of exploitation and dehumanisation across different contexts rather than selectively applying moral scrutiny based on political convenience.

The reluctance to integrate the reality of grooming gangs into our educational and cultural discourse hasn't protected community cohesion, it has damaged it by creating parallel realities where official narratives diverge ever further from lived experiences. When institutions claim to value truth and justice while demonstrably prioritising political comfort, they lose the moral authority necessary for social cohesion.

Democracy Under Threat

The truth demands nuance. Not all Pakistani men are predators, just as not all British institutions are complicit. But certain cultural enclaves have fostered environments where sexual violence against "outsiders" becomes permissible. When elected officials dismiss these realities as "false narratives," they betray not only the victims but also the many law-abiding Pakistani Britons who abhor such crimes.

The emergence of politicians like Ayoub Khan and Tahir Ali reflects a troubling development in British democracy. Both men rose to power through electoral strategies that heavily emphasised religious and ethnic identity politics, mobilising voters primarily through appeals to communal solidarity rather than broad policy platforms. This form of sectarian politics creates representatives who feel accountable primarily to their ethnic or religious base rather than their entire constituency.

This trend has accelerated with the Gaza conflict, which has been leveraged by certain politicians to consolidate support through emotional appeals to religious solidarity. While legitimate criticism of foreign policy is essential in a democracy, these campaigns often cross into simplistic narratives that position Muslims collectively as victims, regardless of context. When the same politicians who build their careers on religious victimhood narratives then dismiss documented abuses perpetrated by members of their community, we witness the corruption of representative democracy into sectarian advocacy.

What makes this particularly dangerous is how it undermines the foundational principle of equality before the law. Democratic systems can only function when all citizens are subject to the same standards of accountability, regardless of their background. When politicians explicitly or implicitly suggest that certain communities should be exempt from scrutiny due to historical oppression or current geopolitical grievances, they aren't advancing justice but undermining its most basic premise.

The impact extends beyond the immediate victims of abuse. Law-abiding members of minority communities, including British Pakistanis who are horrified by grooming scandals, find themselves doubly betrayed: first by criminals who commit atrocities in their community's name, and then by self-appointed "community leaders" who prioritise group reputation over justice and truth. These citizens are denied the opportunity for their communities to confront and address internal problems, trapped instead in a defensive posture where external criticism must always be deflected rather than engaged with.

Our democratic institutions face a reckoning. Representatives who deny documented patterns of abuse for political convenience undermine the very foundations of accountability. A truly functioning democracy must protect its most vulnerable members, regardless of who their predators might be.

The solution isn't to abandon multicultural democracy but to strengthen its foundations by insisting on a non negotiable standard underpinned by UK law. Cultural sensitivity should never extend to cultural exemption from critical scrutiny or legal accountability. Respecting diversity means acknowledging that all cultural traditions contain both elements worth celebrating and elements worth challenging and applying this nuanced approach consistently across all communities.

Electoral reform becomes essential in this context. Our current first-past-the-post system, combined with geographical concentration of ethnic communities, creates perverse incentives for sectarian politics. Representatives can win elections with narrow but highly mobilised support bases, leading to politicians who represent identity groups rather than geographical constituencies. Proportional representation or other reforms could help ensure that elected officials must appeal across community lines rather than retreating into identity silos. At the very least, the existing postal vote format needs abolishing.

Media institutions have a crucial role in holding power accountable, but too often they've abdicated this responsibility when it comes to sensitive cultural issues. Journalists must find the courage to report accurately on patterns of abuse regardless of the perpetrators' backgrounds, while maintaining the nuance to avoid stigmatising entire communities. This isn't about sensationalism but about providing citizens with the accurate information democracy requires to function.

Educational institutions need similar courage, teaching historical injustices while also acknowledging contemporary ones, regardless of how politically uncomfortable the patterns might be. Young people deserve honest education that helps them understand exploitation and abuse across different contexts rather than selective moral accounting that creates hierarchies of victims based on identity.

The path forward requires courage - courage to name problems accurately, to hold perpetrators accountable regardless of their heritage, and to reform systems that enable abuse. Until we find that courage, we remain trapped in a cycle where yesterday's victims become tomorrow's forgotten footnotes.

This isn't about choosing between protecting vulnerable children and maintaining community cohesion. It's about recognising that true cohesion can only be built on foundations of truth and equal justice. When we create different standards for different communities, either through excessive scrutiny or excessive exemption, we undermine the very possibility of shared citizenship.

The victims of the rape gangs deserve more than political point-scoring from either the right or left. They deserve the dignity of having their experiences acknowledged honestly, the justice of seeing perpetrators held accountable, and the healing that comes from knowing society values them enough to confront uncomfortable truths on their behalf.

Democracy at its best isn't about comfortable consensus but about the courage to face difficult realities together. When we lose this courage, when we retreat into comforting fictions rather than confronting disturbing facts, we don't preserve democracy; we hollow it out from within, leaving only its external forms while abandoning its essential substance.

The test before us isn't merely academic. It is existential. Either we find the courage to confront cultural pathologies directly and unflinchingly, or we surrender our children to predators while mouthing empty platitudes about sensitivity. There is no middle ground. We need moral clarity that cuts through both right-wing opportunism and progressive cowardice.

The truth demands we reject the xenophobic impulse to demonise entire communities, but equally condemn the multicultural apologists that sacrifices vulnerable children on the altar of political comfort. What we need is an uncompromising commitment to justice that refuses to calibrate its response based on the perpetrator's background or the victim's social status.

This path forward doesn't require us to choose between honouring historical victims and protecting today's children. What it demands is the intellectual honesty to tear down the perverse hierarchy of suffering we've constructed, where some victims matter more than others based on political convenience. Every child deserves the full force of society's protection. Every predator deserves the full weight of its judgment. Every politician and public official involved in the cover up deserve to be tried for misconduct in public office. Anything less is not just a failure of policy but a fundamental betrayal of civilisation itself. And then, where does that leave us?

Raja Miah MBE

If you are coming to me new, my name is Raja Miah MBE. I am responsible for leading a six year campaign that blew the lid off how Labour Party politicians were involved in protecting Pakistani Rape Gangs.

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