Why Islamophobia Survives Every Mass Shooting
On most days in America, the language of violence follows a predictable script. When a Muslim commits an act of violence, the attack is swiftly considered a civilizational threat. Politicians speak of radicalization, networks, ideology, and the dangers supposedly embedded within an entire faith practiced by nearly two billion people. Television panels debate “Muslim communities,” surveillance expands, and ordinary Muslims are forced into the ritual of collective condemnation. But when the same is committed by a white, even in cases involving manifestos, livestreams, and ideological inspiration, the vocabulary often softens. The violence becomes “senseless,” the killers are described as “troubled youth,” and the crime is folded into the broader American tragedy of mass shootings.
The mass shooting incident in the Islamic Center of San Diego exposes this contradiction with painful clarity. Two teenagers allegedly influenced by white supremacist ideology opened fire, killing three worshippers, including longtime mosque caretaker Mansour Kaziha. Reportedly, the attackers referenced the perpetrator of the 2019 Christchurch mosque shootings in New Zealand and described themselves as his “sons.” The attack was livestreamed. Authorities are investigating it as a hate crime.
By any reasonable definition, attacks on mosques intended to terrify Muslims from gathering publicly meet the threshold of terrorism. But in Western political culture, terrorism has become racialized. It is frequently imagined through a Muslim face, Muslim name, and Muslim grievance. This asymmetry is not merely semantic. How the violence is termed, shapes public opinion, media coverage, policing priorities, and ultimately whose fear is treated as politically significant.
Over the last decade, Islamophobia has become mainstream socio-political discourse across parts of the West. Muslims are discussed as demographic threats, security concerns, or cultural outsiders. Debates over immigration, Palestine, national identity, and secularism have all contributed to an atmosphere where suspicion toward Muslims is normalized under the language of protecting “Western values.”
The San Diego attack, therefore, should not be seen in isolation. In the past, Mosques in the US have faced threats, vandalism, and armed intimidation. Muslim women wearing hijab continue to report harassment in public places, sending children to Islamic schools or evening religious classes is also considered dangerous by parents. Not only the US, Anti-Muslim incidents are witnessed in entire West. In 2017, six worshippers were murdered at the Quebec City Mosque in Canada. In 2019, 51 Muslims were massacred in Christchurch by a white supremacist. In London, a man drove a van into worshippers near the Finsbury Park Mosque.
The spike in Islamophobia is also witnessed after Gaza war. Criticism of Israeli policy is confused with extremism. Muslim civic organizations and student groups face regular scrutiny. Politicians in several Western countries, portray pro-Palestinian activism as inherently suspect, reinforcing the notion that Muslim political expression itself is dangerous.
Language creates moral hierarchies. Where white supremacist violence is individualized and detached from broader ideology, but Muslim violence is interpreted as representative of Islam, it implicitly communicates whose extremism is systemic and whose is accidental. One community becomes collectively accountable, the other retains the privilege of individual pathology.
The normalization of these assumptions is dangerous. A mosque should not require armed guards. Parents should not fear sending children to prayer. Citizens should not have to prove their humanity after every headline. Ideological violence should be recognized for what it is regardless of the perpetrator’s religion or ethnicity. Anything less does not just distort public understanding, it also creates the very conditions in which hatred flourishes.