By James Delingpole
My brilliant niece Freya was talking to my brother the other day about the religious education curriculum at her predominately white, middle-class state school in a pretty English cathedral city. She happened to mention ‘Mohammed, Peace Be Upon Him.’ ‘Eh?’ said my brother. ‘It’s what we’re taught at school. After we mention “Mohammed” we have to say “Peace be upon him”.’
My brilliant niece Freya was talking to my brother the other day about the religious education curriculum at her predominately white, middle-class state school in a pretty English cathedral city. She happened to mention ‘Mohammed, Peace Be Upon Him.’ ‘Eh?’ said my brother. ‘It’s what we’re taught at school. After we mention “Mohammed” we have to say “Peace be upon him”.’
Now I know what you’re
thinking: that Freya must surely have got the wrong end of the stick. ‘If this
were a madrassa in Bradford, well maybe,’ you’ll be thinking. ‘But at a white,
middle-class state school in a pretty English cathedral city? No way. Things
aren’t that bad. At least not yet, anyway…’
But Freya is not stupid.
That’s why, at the beginning, I referred to her as my ‘brilliant’ niece as
opposed to my ‘incredibly thick’ one. Apparently, she assures me, they’ve been
taught to use the ‘peace be upon him’ formula since Year 7 and though they’re
allowed to shorten it to PBUH, they’re definitely not supposed to call him just
Mohammed. ‘There’s sometimes the odd snigger when the phrase comes up but we’ve
been conditioned pretty much to accept it as normal,’ says Freya. ‘It’s a bit
weird, given that there’s only two Muslim kids in my year of 100.’