This is a question that Muslims themselves must confront honestly and internally, rather than deflecting scrutiny by labelling all inquiry as Islamophobia.

Once again, terror has struck Australia’s Jewish community. In the aftermath, a familiar argument has surfaced in the media: that only a handful of individuals, three people out of hundreds of millions of Muslims worldwide, carried out this act of extreme violence, and that the wider Muslim community has nothing to do with it. This assertion is repeatedly offered as a moral and religious defense and, on the surface, appears valid.

However, what is conveniently overlooked is that celebrations and open approval of this massacre are visible across sections of the Muslim world, particularly on social media and in private conversations. Alongside this, there has also been what can only be described as cosmetic condemnation and performative solidarity, expressed through slogans such as “Islam is against violence” and “Islam condemns this.”

In this process, the victims cease to be those who lost their lives. Instead, Islam, the religion itself is positioned as the primary victim, and the public energy shifts toward defending the religion rather than mourning the dead.

This raises a more uncomfortable but necessary question. Why does this phenomenon recur? Why does violence against Jewish civilians provoke not only silence but, in some quarters, open approval? Unless this question is confronted honestly, beyond politically correct language and defensive posturing, the cycle of denial, hypocrisy, and repetition will continue, costing more lives and deepening hatred across communities.

In the aftermath of this horrific attack on civilians, another familiar narrative has been foregrounded. Considerable emphasis has been placed on the fact that a Muslim saved people during the attack and that another Muslim stood up against the Islamist terrorists. The issue, however, is not whether a Muslim acted humanely in the face of inhuman violence. That is an expectation of any human being.

The more fundamental question is why the first individual was driven to carry out the attack in the first place. Until this question is addressed honestly, there is little meaning in celebrating the second act of resistance against jihadist violence. Acts of courage during terror attacks deserve recognition, but they cannot substitute for a serious examination of the ideological and religious conditioning that produces such violence. Without confronting these roots, such narratives risk becoming distractions rather than pathways to solutions.

Each time such an attack occurs, a familiar defence is invoked: that this is not true Islam, that this is not the Islam followed by the vast majority of Muslims. While this may be factually correct, it leaves a deeper and more unsettling question unanswered.

Why are these acts of terror repeatedly carried out in the name of Islam? This is a question that Muslims themselves must confront honestly and internally, rather than deflecting scrutiny by labelling all inquiry as Islamophobia. Genuine introspection is not an attack on faith. It is a necessary condition for preventing its distortion into an instrument of violence.

Until this question is faced squarely, moral disclaimers will continue to ring hollow and fail to address the root of the problem.

Arfa Khanum Sherwani, described the Bondi Beach attack as Islamist terrorist violence targeting a peaceful gathering. In response, she was subjected to sharp criticism from sections of the Muslim intelligentsia. She was accused of liberal hypocrisy, of playing into the hands of the West, and of immaturity, among other charges.

This reaction is revealing. It shows how even naming and condemning violence carried out in the name of Islam provokes hostility rather than introspection. The focus shifts away from the crime itself and toward discrediting the individual who dares to call it out.

If thirteen or fifteen people are killed in the name of any ideology, that ideology must be subjected to scrutiny. The problem lies not with those who identify and condemn ideological violence, but with the refusal to examine the ideas that legitimize it. The instinct to silence criticism rather than engage with it reflects a deeper discomfort with accountability.

Many argue that such attacks are a consequence of the war in Gaza and Israel’s military actions. However, this particular attack targeted Jews in Australia, was carried out by a man of Pakistani origin, and occurred on Australian soil. It had no direct connection to the conflict in Gaza.

Until recently, some of our left-liberal circles argued that the attack of 7 October was justified, claiming it was inevitable because seventy-five years of history lay behind it. Even if one were to accept the relevance of historical context, a basic question remains unanswered. What had Jews celebrating Hanukkah in Australia done to people living far away in Pakistan to provoke such violence?

Yet the attack exposes something more troubling. The Gaza conflict is increasingly being conflated and weaponised to justify hostility toward Jewish communities across the world. Political anger over a distant war is redirected into hatred against civilians who have no role in that conflict.

This is deeply concerning. Slogans such as “from the river to the sea” can easily be stripped of political context and transformed into rhetoric that legitimises indiscriminate violence. What begins as a political position risks mutating into a justification for collective punishment and terror.

This slippage between protest and violence must be recognized and confronted before it becomes normalized, and the texts that give moral justification to Muslims to carry out such attacks such as Sahih Bukhari’s Hadees in which Prophet Mohammed reported to have said that ‘The Hour will not be established until you fight with the Jews, and the stone behind which a Jew will be hiding will say. “O Muslim! There is a Jew hiding behind me, so kill him.”

What it does require is a responsible, contextual explanation of such texts—how they emerged in specific historical circumstances, how classical scholars understood their limits, and why they cannot be mechanically or morally applied to contemporary civilian life.

Islamic history itself offers clear counterpoints to extremist readings. Jewish–Muslim collaboration was not an anomaly but a lived reality: the Jewish physician who served Sultan Salahuddin Ayyubi, or the Jewish neighbour of the great scholar Abdullah bin Mubarak, are reminders that coexistence, trust, and shared civic life were integral to Muslim societies. These realities stand in direct contradiction to modern attempts to universalise selective texts into timeless mandates of violence.

Disclaimer: Views expressed by writers in this section are their own and do not reflect Milli Chronicle’s point-of-view.

Islamist terrorism did not rise in a vacuum. It was engineered, cultivated, and weaponized—first by colonial powers, then by Cold War strategists, and now by regional regimes.

In the aftermath of European colonialism, the world has seen many upheavals—but few have been as globally disruptive and persistently violent as the rise of Islamist terrorism. It is one of the darkest legacies of the colonial era, ironically shaped and sharpened by the very empires it now claims to oppose. Today, it stands as a transnational threat, claiming lives from Karachi to Kuala Lumpur, and from Tel Aviv to London.

The data tells a haunting story. Since 1979—the year of the Shia Islamic Revolution in Iran—there have been more than 49,000 Islamist terror attacks worldwide, resulting in over 220,000 deaths. But what is often overlooked is the fact that 89.5% of these attacks occurred in Muslim-majority countries, with the vast majority of victims being Muslims themselves. Even the holiest of sites, such as Mecca, have not been spared. The carnage is indiscriminate, and the ideology behind it is far more complex than simplistic narratives often suggest.

Islamist groups would have the world believe that their violence is a response to foreign occupation or injustice. Yet the overwhelming facts betray that narrative. Most Islamist terrorism does not take place in occupied territories but in nations where Muslims are the majority. This disproportionality demands a deeper, more historically rooted investigation into how this ideology emerged and why it continues to thrive.

The Colonial Incubator of Political Islam

To understand the modern-day menace of Islamist terrorism, we must go back to the time of European imperialism—particularly British colonial rule. Colonizers, determined to suppress nationalist uprisings and maintain control over their dominions, employed a classic divide-and-rule strategy. In this context, religious identity became a tool of political manipulation.

Extremist elements were co-opted and even fostered by colonial administrators to counter secular, anti-colonial movements. It is no coincidence that key Islamist movements—such as the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt and Jamaat-e-Islami in India—were born during this time. These Islamist movements did not rise organically from within their societies as spiritual or theological reforms; rather, they were often sponsored or tolerated by colonial regimes as buffers against resistance.

Figures like Sir Syed Ahmed, who promoted the divisive “two-nation theory” in British India, and Sir Agha Khan, who founded the Muslim League, played pivotal roles in politicizing Islam. Their ideas—encouraged, amplified, or at least facilitated by the British—ultimately contributed to the partition of India and laid the groundwork for modern political Islam. This ideological framework would later become fertile ground for the rise of violent jihadist movements.

From West Africa to Southeast Asia, similar patterns emerged: colonial authorities empowering Islamist elements for short-term control, only to leave behind long-term instability.

Cold War Complicity and the Rise of Armed Jihad

The Cold War did not reverse this legacy—it accelerated it. In Afghanistan, for example, the United States and its allies, including Pakistan, armed and trained Islamist fighters to push back against Soviet expansion. The result was the creation of well-equipped and ideologically radicalized groups such as the Taliban and Al-Qaeda.

What was once political Islam turned into militant jihadism. The West had, once again, fed the very forces it would later call its enemies.

The Twin Threats: State-Sponsored and Non-State Jihadism

In the modern context, Islamist terrorism operates under two primary umbrellas: non-state actors and state-sponsored networks.

Non-state actors are dispersed, often embedded within societies, waiting for ideological or operational cues. Their roots trace back to political Islamist thought developed during colonialism, shaped further by theological radicalism and geopolitical grievances. Their dream of a global caliphate transcends borders, and they are often motivated not by poverty or lack of opportunity—but by ideology. No amount of economic aid or deradicalization programs alone can address this; it requires ideological confrontation led by credible scholars and religious authorities.

On the other hand, state-sponsored Islamist terrorism is far more organized—and dangerous. Here, nation-states actively fund, shelter, or enable terrorist proxies to project power or destabilize rivals. Iran, since the 1979 revolution, stands out as the most prolific actor. From supporting Hezbollah in Lebanon to Hamas in Gaza, and from Houthi insurgents in Yemen to Shia militias in Iraq and Syria, Iran’s fingerprints are evident across some of the most devastating conflicts in the Middle East.

Turkey and Qatar, despite being close Western allies, also play significant roles. Both states have financially supported Islamist groups—including the Muslim Brotherhood and others—across North Africa and the Levant. Media outlets like TRT (Turkey) and Al Jazeera (Qatar) have become soft-power instruments, often amplifying Islamist narratives under the guise of journalistic independence.

Then there is Pakistan—arguably the most paradoxical player. Created as a result of colonial partition, Pakistan has, since its inception, used Islamist militancy as statecraft. Its long-standing doctrine of “Bleed India with a Thousand Cuts” has led to decades of cross-border terrorism. From Kashmir to Punjab, from Naxalite regions to the Northeast, India has faced relentless proxy warfare orchestrated from across the border.

Unlike Iran, Pakistan has largely escaped Western censure or sanctions, remaining a “major non-NATO ally” and benefiting from strategic utility. Whether during the Afghan jihad against the Soviets or the post-9/11 conflict, Pakistan’s duplicity has been tolerated, if not rewarded.

A recent example was the attack in Pahalgam, Kashmir, where 26 innocent civilians were killed by Pakistan-sponsored Islamist militants. It is part of a consistent pattern—not an anomaly.

Solutions Begin with Truth and Courage

Combating Islamist terrorism requires more than drones, security checkpoints, or surveillance. It demands truth—about its origins, its enablers, and its geopolitical underpinnings.

The first step must involve addressing state actors that perpetuate terrorism under ideological or strategic pretexts. In this context, resolving the “Pakistan-Iran-Turkey” triad is essential. And one of the most viable ways to do this is by supporting the self-determination of oppressed peoples within those states.

The liberation of Balochistan (currently divided between Pakistan and Iran) and Kurdistan (spanning parts of Iran, Turkey, Iraq, and Syria) is not just a moral imperative—it could be a strategic game-changer. Empowering these freedom movements would strike at the very heart of the Islamist-terror ecosystem and weaken the foundations upon which these regimes rely.

Time for a Reckoning—and a Response

India, Israel, and democratic states across the world must come together, not just to condemn terrorism, but to confront its root causes and supporters. The West, too, has an opportunity—a responsibility—to correct the historical wrongs of colonialism. This means no longer appeasing authoritarian allies who feed Islamist extremism for their own ends.

Islamist terrorism did not rise in a vacuum. It was engineered, cultivated, and weaponized—first by colonial powers, then by Cold War strategists, and now by regional regimes. To dismantle it, we must stop treating the symptoms and start confronting the disease.

And that means standing with those who fight for freedom—not those who hide behind religion to suppress it.