Mick Hartley

Hamit Coskun in the Spectator provides a powerful defence of his actions – Why I burnt the Quran.

My name is Hamit Coskun and I’ve just been convicted of a religiously aggravated public order offence. My ‘crime’? Burning a copy of the Quran outside the Turkish consulate in London. Moments later, I was attacked in full view of the street by a man. I was hospitalised. Then I was arrested.

Some may say that book-burning is a poor substitute for reasoned debate. I would counter that it was a symbolic, non-violent form of expression intended to draw attention to the ongoing move from the secularism of my country of birth to a regime which embraces hardline Islam.

As I told Westminster Magistrates’ Court, what I did constituted political protest and the law, as I understood it, was on my side. CPS guidance makes clear that legitimate protest can be offensive and on occasion must be, if it is to be effective. In that spirit, Article 10 of the European Convention on Human Rights protects not just polite speech but speech that offends, shocks or disturbs. Political expression, above all, is meant to enjoy the strongest protection.

Alas, the judge ruled otherwise. And the reasoning deployed to convict me raises troubling questions, not only about the scope of public order law but about whether Britain is witnessing the quiet return of blasphemy laws.

Although the man who assaulted me is being prosecuted separately, the Crown says his action helped to prove my guilt. It argued that because I was attacked, my behaviour must not have been peaceful. Under this logic, ‘disorderly’ no longer depends on conduct, but on how offended or aggressive someone else chooses to be in response.

The judge's reasoning here provides a clear invitation for those who claim to be offended by a protest to respond with violence. The more violent, the more likely that the person you attacked will be prosecuted and found guilty. And Islamists are – as we know – only too ready to resort to violence.

It gets worse.

Neither was this the only inversion of logic the prosecution relied on. It insisted this was not a political protest. Yes, I had told police I was protesting against President Erdogan’s government, which has made Turkey a base for radical Islamists while trying to create a sharia regime. Yes, I had written on social media beforehand that I would burn a copy of the Quran outside the Turkish consulate. Yes, I said in interview that I was criticising a political ideology, not Muslims as a group. But all of this, the Crown claimed, was a ‘convenient shield’, something I had fabricated to conceal my hostility towards Muslims.

The judge in the case accepted that argument, concluding that my actions were ‘motivated at least in part by hatred of followers of the religion’.

This lies at the heart of the matter, and is key to the danger of the precedent set. If every protest against Islam is presumed to be a protest against Muslims, if criticism of doctrine is redefined as hatred of believers, then space for lawful criticism of that religion – or any religion – collapses. My case turned on that blurring of categories.

In other words, the judge accepted the Islamic argument that there is no meaningful distinction between Islam and its followers: when Islam is criticised, it's an expression of a hatred of Muslims. Which is precisely the argument used for the ridiculous concept of "Islamophobia". 

As has been said often enough. this is introducing a blasphemy law by the back door. Islam isn't a race; it's a religion, an ideology. The problem lies in the Muslim belief that Islam is not just something you believe in, but forms an essential part of your being – hence the seriousness of apostasy. For them, then, the term "Islamophobia" is equivalent to racism in that the belief is inseparable from the person. But that's no reason to accept those terms here, where freedom of speech has been fought for over generations, and remains central to our democracy.

Or did.

In 2022, I claimed asylum in Britain. Why here? Because I believed it was a country where an atheist refugee could speak without fear. That belief brought me to the gates of the Turkish consulate on 13 February.

Had I known that challenging the Islamist propaganda which destroyed the country I grew up in could lead to prosecution, I might have thought twice about coming. But I am here now. And I will not remain silent.

The Free Speech Union funded my defence and stands ready to provide any assistance needed to get this judgment overturned. Because this is no longer just about me. It is about whether Britain still believes that no religion is beyond criticism, especially when it shapes public life and political power. That was the principle I was imprisoned for defending in Turkey and it was the principle I was defending outside the Turkish consulate. I have no intention of abandoning that fight.