The furore about the burka prompted by Reform’s new bi-election victor, Sarah Pochin, at Prime Minister’s questions, took almost everyone by surprise, especially her party chairman who promptly resigned. Though, having patched-up differences, he is now back again.
The issue had gone completely off the radar since Boris Johnson’s quip about women looking like letter boxes in 2018
(see my blog Somewhat Belated Burka Commentary )
Prior to that, I hadn’t commented on the issue for a couple of years
(see The Burkinis of Barton-On-Sea)
It is a subject, though very much alive in France, but which had certainly gone off the boil in the UK.
My recollection is that It was Jack Straw, as Foreign Secretary in 2006, who initiated the debate when he spoke of his discomfort when a fully veiled female attended one of his advice surgeries.
Of course, one would only really see a burka in Afghanistan. It is the billowing covering of the whole body, from head to foot, with only a tight mesh through which the wearer might view the world. What commentators and Ms Pochin are really referring to, is the niqab, a face covering which leaves the eyes exposed. (Given, that the purpose of the garment is to promote female modesty I have often been amazed by the creativity of many wearers who really can make the most of their eyes!)
So, would I ban the burka or the niqab?
As a libertarian I am not disposed to ban anything that does not harm anyone else.
It certainly gives offence to many people, but in a society with freedom of expression, none of us has a right NOT to be offended
.
But, does it oppress women?
Is it a symbol of female subservience?
How many wearers do so really by free choice, or are they coerced by family and social pressure?
(On the other hand, I do recall one former female MP who went to Iran and found wearing the abaya a ‘liberating experience’)
These are legitimate questions, but a ban might well make the lives of wearers even less eligible: they might, instead, be encouraged not to go out at all. Equally, a ban may be perceived as an assault on Islamic tradition and, consequently, lead to more wearers as acts of defiance or community solidarity.
In any event, how on earth would we enforce it?
My inclination is to live and let live: fashions change.
In my youth women always wore hats in Church, last Sunday I didn’t see a single one.
My wife still possesses a mantilla, a souvenir of her convent upbringing. Mercifully, she never wears it.