14-07-2025
How the debate about Islam in Britain is playing out in planning rows over mosques
The joyful peal of church bells is cascading down from St Mary's belfry across the little Cumbrian town of Dalton-in-Furness. Pedestrians smile as the chimes resonate, filling the summer air. Whether they are regular churchgoers or not, to the locals it's a comforting sound, a familiar sound that represents continuity, constancy, community.
'The bells are tradition, they are part of what makes us British. If they start calling from that new mosque, it would be unacceptable,' says one elderly parishioner with a frown. 'I'm not racist, but everybody else round here feels the same.'
And in truth, everybody in the town does say the same. The phrase 'I'm not racist, but…' is repeated like a mantra. From: 'I'm not racist, but I don't see why we need a mosque,' to 'I'm not racist, but why couldn't they just convert an existing building?', there is genuine puzzlement and unease over the construction of a three-storey mosque outside a town of some 7,000 souls without any large Muslim population.
There has also been anger, much of it perpetrated online by outsiders. Last month, police attended protests and counter protests as opposing sides engaged in heated exchanges. It has been alleged that far-Right activists waving Union Jack [and Knights Templar] flags were bussed in for the occasion, lending credence to suggestions that Islamophobia was a major driver in the demonstration.
At issue is the construction of the £2.5 million South Lakes Islamic Centre in Crooklands Brow, paid for by Muslim doctors at the General Hospital in Barrow-in-Furness who wanted to have a place for worship, the nearest mosque currently being 50 miles away in Lancaster.
Westmorland and Furness council's Conservative deputy leader Matt Brereton has defended the decision, pointing out said there is a 'sizeable Islamic faith community' in the wider Furness area.
'I don't really see there should be an issue in terms of them having somewhere they can celebrate their faith,' he told the media.
He may not have wanted to acknowledge it, but the truth is that Durton-in-Furness is not the only flashpoint.
News headlines tell the same story. In Leicester: 'Beloved former pub to be converted into mosque despite local opposition.' In Essex: 'Fury in Romford over new mosque plans ('We already have one, we don't need one on every corner'), and in North Yorkshire ('Anonymous letters sent to residents to oppose plans for the first mosque in Harrogate').
It's hard to escape the conclusion that these rows over bricks and mortar are fast becoming a proxy for debate about the growth of Islam and the expansion of multiculturalism in modern Britain.
Official figures from the website show there are 1,884 mosques in the UK, up from 1,640 in 2015. Although there's evidence of a Muslim presence in Britain as far back as the 16th century, the first purpose-built mosque in Britain was opened in 1889; earlier Muslim communities worshipped more informally.
There's a long tradition of remodelling disused churches and other buildings. As the number of Muslims increases it seems likely there will be greater demand for additional, dedicated places of worship. According to the 2021 census, there were 3.8 million Muslims living in England, or 6.7 per cent of the population, up from 4.9 per cent in 2011.
'I don't think it's reasonable to object to the building of a new mosque,' is the verdict of Lord Goodman of Wycombe, Conservative peer and former MP for Wycombe in Buckinghamshire, which has a sizeable ethnic minority population, rising as high as 50 per cent in some areas. 'What is reasonable is to be concerned about what happens in a tiny minority of existing mosques.'
His words raise a crucial question: is it fair or even accurate to denounce anyone who raises objections as a racist? According to Shahed Saleem, senior lecturer in the School of Architecture and Cities at the University of Westminster, and author of The British Mosque: An Architectural and Social History, the answer is a resounding 'no'.
'There's nothing inherently racist about local people in the Lake District voicing their opposition to proposals for a new mosque,' says Saleem, who co-curated the V&A Pavilion at the Venice Biennale 2021. 'But the emphasis is very much on 'local'. If someone in Wolverhampton starts saying 'I don't want a mosque in the Lake District', that is racism.'
Saleem points to 'myriad reasons' why anyone might be unhappy about a new mosque in their area.
'It could be parking, the fact they don't want a religious building of any sort, or the potential noise,' he says. 'People are always going to be concerned about change in their neighbourhood and how anything new will impact them, be it a mosque or a supermarket, and you have to give them the benefit of the doubt that this is where their concerns are coming from.'
Certainly everyone I spoke to in Dalton-in-Furness seemed far more exercised about parking than anything else, and despite one woman's consternation at the prospect of an imam calling his congregation to prayer, the planned mosque doesn't have a minaret. But misinformation goes hand in hand with campaigns orchestrated elsewhere.
'Unfortunately, planning permission for mosques have become a lightning rod around which racist and far-Right activists coalesce,' says Saleem. 'People already resistant to the building for practical reasons can get manipulated into joining forces with Islamophobes.'
Objections to building Islamic places of worship in Britain, Europe and beyond are now so commonplace that the emerging phenomenon has been dubbed 'mosquephobia'. It was first identified by visiting academic Professor Ali Alraouf at an event held in University College London.
He defined it as 'a rejection and resistance… to the dominating image of the mosque' in British towns and cities. In short, local objections are primarily against the building itself rather than its congregation.
Follow-up research shows that once the mosque is up and running, public antipathy fizzles out.
But not everyone agrees that there's an even playing field in the first place. I spoke to several dissenting expert voices who aired very different opinions – on condition they remained anonymous.
'There is two-tier engagement at work in Britain among the local authorities,' one told me. 'The police and councils go to great lengths to engage with Muslim community leaders,' another said. 'Christian churches aren't viewed in the same way. There is a distinct bias at work.'
That is certainly a topic touched upon by local people. 'I worry about this country,' says Carol Lacey, 71, a grandmother of three. 'I'm really not a racist, but seeing mosques being built I think sends out the wrong message to illegal immigrants in small boats. What sort of a Britain will my grandchildren grow up in?'
Another expert I spoke to claimed that double standards have also been adopted by planning departments across the country.
'When any sort of planning proposal is submitted for a mosque, it feels very much as though the council will bend over backwards to accommodate them,' this expert told me.
'As a result, local people are looking at their community and seeing changes they didn't ask for and didn't vote for and weren't properly consulted over, yet they are afraid to speak out for fear of being branded Islamophobic.'
On the face of it, it's understandable why Islamic buildings, and most specifically minarets, would arouse strong feelings in a nation of cathedral spires and church towers. The acceptance of minorities who have other religious practices is largely predicated on them not altering the physical landscape.
'When I moved [here], one of my reasons for selecting the area was that it was a pleasant, quiet, typically turn-of-the-century residential area. Architecturally, the locality, including the church… forms a consistent whole, with buildings of characteristic and pleasing proportions. I feel that the introduction of a minaret would be completely out of character as to be a serious detriment to the area.
'I can believe, and accept freely, that there is a need for a place of worship such as the mosque in this area, but feel that a minaret is not an essential adjunct to such worship.'
When was this objection lodged to a mosque in Wimbledon, in south London? Way back in 1977, almost five decades ago. No figures are available from that period, but in 1983 the British Social Attitudes Survey indicated that around 68 per cent of the population identified as Christian.
But can Britain really consider itself Christian in the 21st century? Looking at the data from the Office for National Statistics, the 2021 census revealed that Christians now account for less than half of England and Wales' population. Just 46.2 per cent of the population (27.5 million people) described themselves as 'Christian' in 2021, marking a 13.1 percentage point decrease from 59.3 per cent (33.3 million people) in 2011.
'People in Britain are resigned to the slow decline of our traditional religion into irrelevance – young people just aren't interested,' says an unnamed expert on inter-faith relations. 'By comparison, Islam is a very confident and youthful faith, growing in size and importance. That is a worry to parts of the population, and unless we discuss it openly, the far-Right can take advantage.'
The consequences are already being seen. All too frequently the fear that ordinary citizens have of being branded racists stymies healthy, legitimate debate. Instead, public discourse ends up being dominated by extremists, who are racist.
For Qari Asim, the imam at Leeds Makkah Masjid and chairman of the Mosques and Imams National Advisory Board, openness is the way forward. His mosque is unofficially twinned with All Hallows Church in the city, and they both contribute to the local food bank. In Birmingham, there are interfaith environmental projects underway.
'Many large mosques now have multiple use spaces, so all community groups can use them,' says Asim. 'Some have cafés, and even gyms. If more non-Muslims can see that these aren't mysterious, exclusive places, it will reduce resistance and lead to better relations.'
He acknowledges that since the terrible attacks of 7/7 in 2005, which were solemnly commemorated this month, the suspicion arose that mosques were 'bomb-making factories where people were brainwashed and radicalised'. He avers the very opposite is true.
'If there's a need but no central place for worship, people will meet in each other's houses or hire spaces where they will not be subject to safeguarding issues,' he emphasises.
'There's always the potential for people abusing the faith for their own political or personal agenda, so it's much better that there are regulated places of worship where there will be official oversight into all the activities going on there.'
It is a radical new argument; namely that mosques should be viewed as a robust way of countering radicalisation. For all our cosy nostalgia when it comes to church bells and evocative spires, could it be that the presence of Islamic architecture in suburbia will provide a sense of security rather than provoking unease?
Maybe not today, but tomorrow. The demographics speak for themselves, concludes Lord Goodman.
'If you look at population trends,' he says, 'Islam is going to play a much bigger role in the life of Britain, and it's something we all have to try to negotiate successfully.'
