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The most fundamental duty of any state is to keep its citizens safe, from external or internal threats, but also from the state itself. This balancing act challenges all liberal democratic states.
Counterterrorism legislation exists to curb violent actions or threats by political, religious or ideologically-driven groups aimed at intimidating citizens and governments. Yet there are groups that propagate extreme ideologies, which may seek to replace liberal democracy with their own alternatives, but which stop short of committing or encouraging acts of terrorism.
In the UK, a lacuna exists between its hate speech and counterterrorism laws in which such groups cannot only operate but receive public funding. This gap is one the Conservative government is attempting to fill with a new definition of extremism. Some senior politicians and religious leaders have warned that the attempt could restrain free speech and ensnare legitimate organisations. This debate has echoes elsewhere.
German politics has been rocked by revelations about the far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD) party. A fifth of the party’s parliamentary employees have either been named as extremists by intelligence services or were members of designated extremist organisations, according to a TV probe. Some people believe the AfD should itself be declared a proscribed group. The question illustrates the dilemmas facing liberal democracies. Many AfD members hold beliefs incompatible with the values set out in Germany’s constitution. Yet banning a party supported by a fifth of voters is, in itself, hard to reconcile with the values of a liberal democracy.
France, meanwhile, has pursued “anti-separatist” policies aimed largely at curbing Islamist extremism. Their effectiveness at tackling radicalisation is uncertain, although critics argue they stigmatise Muslim citizens and worsen social division.
Violent extremism in the UK could be from both Islamist and neo-Nazi groups. The government’s guidelines are being unveiled against a backdrop of tensions in society over the Israel-Hamas conflict, with weekly pro-Palestinian protests and recent increases in both antisemitic incidents and anti-Muslim hate cases.
Seeking to prevent extremist groups from engaging with public authorities and receiving public funds is laudable, but the execution is less so. The government’s motives are not solely electoral, and have as much to do with the determination of Michael Gove, the communities secretary, to drive through changes before an election his party is likely to lose. Seeking to restrict certain groups and speakers, including those courts have found to be jihadist sympathisers, is a positive step. Yet the Conservatives are ill-placed to deliver an enduring change to how the UK defines extremism, given their own recent inability to plainly identify explicit racism in their own ranks.
While the government is right to be worried about the inspiration of violent attacks, the expanded definition of extremism does risk having chilling effects for free speech. It extends the reach of “extremism” to include anyone who seeks to “negate” the fundamental rights of others. Despite assurances to the contrary from Gove, this is a definition that both sides of the debate over trans rights would argue includes their opponents — neither of which are a concern for the security services.
More broadly, the new definition contributes to a troubling expansion of what constitutes harmful extremism away from physical acts and straightforward incitement towards ideology and sets of beliefs. In striking the difficult balance between freedom and safety, governments should err on the side of free expression and the right to dissent.