I have often argued that one of the most important steps towards integrating into another country is learning its principal language. Every nation may have regional dialects and minority languages, but each also has a standard language that allows people to communicate and participate fully in society.
In Britain, many people complain that newly arrived immigrants do not speak English well enough. Yet the same criticism can sometimes be directed at British people who settle abroad, whether permanently or for long periods, without making much effort to learn Italian, Spanish, French or the language of the country in which they live. Integration, if we believe in it, should apply to everyone.
Among those most frequently accused of failing to integrate are Muslims. Anyone who spends time on social media will quickly notice a great deal of anti-Muslim rhetoric. Some reports may be based on genuine concerns, others may exaggerate or distort reality. Every case deserves to be judged on its own merits rather than through prejudice.
When I was a university student, more than fifty years ago, attitudes were very different. We attended lectures on Islamic civilisation, studied Arabic, read great poets such as Iqbal and Hafiz, and learned about the rich traditions of Sufism. Some students travelled to Egypt and other Middle Eastern countries to deepen their understanding. There was curiosity rather than suspicion.
Today, however, many people feel that something has changed. Alongside the long-established differences between Sunni and Shia Islam, there has been renewed attention to stricter interpretations associated with movements such as Wahhabism. What has particularly puzzled me is seeing some young Muslim women adopting forms of dress that are considerably more conservative than those worn by their mothers or grandmothers. Women whose mothers never wore a veil may themselves choose to wear the niqab or even more complete forms of covering.
Personally, I find the full-face veil deeply troubling. To me it represents anonymity and raises difficult questions about the place of women in society. I recognise that many Muslims would disagree with this interpretation and would argue that modest dress is a matter of religious conviction and personal dignity. Others maintain that the Qur’an does not require such extreme forms of covering. It is clearly a subject on which sincere believers themselves hold very different opinions.
My own views were influenced by an experience while teaching English to a class consisting mainly of Somali Muslim women. They were intelligent, friendly students, and many conversations were enriched by the fact that we could also speak Italian together, reflecting Somalia’s historical links with Italy. Although they wore traditional clothing, their faces were uncovered and communication presented no difficulty.
Then, one day, one of the students arrived completely veiled, with only a narrow slit through which her eyes could be seen. I was genuinely shocked. I said nothing to embarrass her, but another student explained that she was dressing that way for religious reasons.
Later I spoke privately to my vice-principal. I explained that I felt unable to teach effectively when I could not see a student’s face. A teacher depends upon facial expressions, eye contact and visual communication. There are also practical issues of identification, attendance and safeguarding. I asked whether the college had a dress policy that addressed such situations.
The vice-principal, himself originally from Iraq, replied calmly that if I felt uncomfortable, the student could simply be transferred to another class taught by a female teacher. That solution was adopted.
However, the matter did not end there. The teacher who accepted the student later criticised my decision, arguing that I had discriminated against her because of what she chose to wear. Her argument was that every woman has the right to dress as she wishes.
That experience has remained with me ever since because it raises a question that I still cannot answer with certainty. Was this young woman exercising her own free choice, or was she under pressure from her family or community? Unless we know the answer to that question, discussions about freedom become far more complicated than they first appear.
The more I reflect on these issues, the more I realise that it is impossible to speak of “Muslims” or “Christians” as though they were single, uniform communities. Christianity itself ranges from traditional Roman Catholicism to Orthodox churches, Anglicanism, Protestant denominations, Evangelical movements and countless independent congregations. There is enormous diversity.
The same is true of Islam. There are Sunni and Shia Muslims, together with many schools of thought, reform movements and cultural traditions. Some Muslims are deeply conservative, while others are highly liberal. Their interpretations of religion differ enormously. It is therefore unfair to judge more than a billion people as though they all believed or behaved in exactly the same way.
Nevertheless, certain questions repeatedly arise in public debate. Christians often point out that European countries generally permit the construction of mosques and guarantee freedom of worship, while in some Muslim-majority countries it is difficult—or even impossible—to build churches or practise Christianity openly. Others raise questions about polygamy, the role of Sharia law, freedom of expression and, above all, the equality of women and men. These are serious issues deserving thoughtful discussion rather than slogans or prejudice.
Italy presents an interesting case. Although regular church attendance has declined, Catholicism remains deeply rooted in the country’s history and identity. Rome is, after all, the centre of the Roman Catholic Church. When Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni describes herself as “a woman, an Italian and a Christian”, she is expressing an identity that resonates with many Italians.
For this reason, some Italians react more critically than people in Britain when they encounter practices such as the burqa, the niqab or the burkini. Many Italian women feel that generations struggled to secure equal rights—the vote, divorce, greater personal freedom and equal opportunities—and they see full-face veiling not simply as a cultural difference but as a symbol of women surrendering freedoms that others fought to obtain. Whether that interpretation is always justified is open to debate, but it helps explain why feelings can run so strongly. Certainly the cases of ‘honour killings’ where Muslim girls have rebelled against forced (as distinct from arranged) marriages and murdered in conseque have deeply troubled italians (as all western nations) especially as until recently honour killings received special mitigation under Italian law. As yet, however, there is no evidence that Italy has a widespread phenomenon of “Muslim grooming gangs” on the same scale or with the same characteristics as the UK cases. Italy is also one of the few European countries.that have bern free to-date of Islamic terrorist attacks.
At the same time, attitudes are not identical towards every religion. In several parts of Italy, Buddhist communities have established temples and organise public festivals that local residents attend with genuine interest and goodwill. Likewise, people from different religious backgrounds often participate respectfully in traditional Christian celebrations such as Lucca’s historic Procession of the Holy Face.
These are difficult questions, and I do not pretend to have simple answers. Every society must balance freedom of religion, cultural identity, equality before the law and mutual respect. These principles do not always fit together comfortably.
My conclusion is a modest one. Understanding, tolerance and respect remain indispensable. At the same time, genuine integration requires dialogue, a willingness to understand one another, respect for the laws and language of the country in which we live, and an unwavering commitment to the equal dignity and freedom of every human being, regardless of religion, nationality or background.
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