At the United Nations General Assembly this week, the world gathered for one of the most critical moments in international politics. Leaders from nearly 200 nations spoke about war, famine and the future of our planet. It was a stage for urgent diplomacy and the kind of leadership the world desperately needs.

President Donald Trump spoke on Tuesday for almost an hour. In those moments of global attention, he decided to use his platform to attack London’s mayor, Sadiq Khan. He declared that Europe was “going to hell” and accused Khan of bringing “Sharia law” to London.

This was not a slip of the tongue. It was a choice. The most powerful leader in the world chose to invoke one of the oldest Islamophobic myths: that Muslim leadership signals a creeping imposition of Sharia law.

Britain has a secular legal system. Sharia councils exist only in a limited advisory form with no standing in law. To suggest otherwise is to perpetuate a false narrative that has long been used to portray Muslims as a threat to national life and to question their legitimacy in public office.

In this week’s address, he called him a “terrible, terrible mayor,” but it is not the first time Trump has attacked Khan.

In 2019, he labelled him a “stone cold loser,” and accused him of failing London. What ties these attacks together is not performance in office, but identity. The fixation is clear. Trump has made Khan a target because he is Muslim.

Khan himself has been clear about this. Asked about Trump’s latest outburst, he responded: “I think President Trump has shown he is racist, he is sexist, he is misogynistic, and he is Islamophobic.” For the mayor of one of the world’s most diverse cities, this was not an exaggeration. It was naming what is plain to see.

London has been led by Sadiq Khan for eight years. During that time, it has remained one of the most visited cities in the world, attracting more American visitors and investors than any other European capital. To suggest that it has fallen under “Sharia law” is baseless. But the intention is clear: to signal that a Muslim mayor is not a legitimate leader.

Identity over policy

That message does not remain at the level of rhetoric. We have seen where it leads. In the summer of 2024, riots broke out across the UK.

Mobs marched through towns chanting anti-Muslim slogans, attacking mosques, vandalising Muslim-owned businesses, and targeting hotels that housed asylum seekers. Families described living through nights of fear and violence. The unrest was sparked by misinformation, but it revealed something deeper: how quickly lies about Muslims can ignite disorder.

A year later, the same story returned on a bigger stage. In September 2025, more than 100,000 people marched through central London in support of Tommy Robinson. It was one of the largest far-right gatherings in recent memory.

The speeches were incendiary. French politician Eric Zemmour told the crowd they were facing “the great replacement” by Muslim migrants. Belgian MP Philip Dewinter declared: “Islam is our real enemy, we have to get rid of Islam.” Dutch commentator Eva Vlaardingerbroek, wearing a “Generation Remigration” shirt, spoke of “rape, replacement, and murder.” Elon Musk appeared by video link. Placards in the crowd labelled Sadiq Khan a “sleeper agent.”

Religious leaders called for banning mosques, halal food, and burqas, declaring this a “religious war.” Palestinian flags were ripped up on stage. Police reported “unacceptable violence” after officers were assaulted with bottles, flares, and physical attacks.

For British Muslims, this is not politics as theatre. It is a daily reality. In recent weeks, mosques have been vandalised. Graffiti has appeared on walls reading “Stop Islam, stop the boats.” Communities are tightening security. Families are more conscious of their visibility and their safety. The effect is to cast Muslims as a suspect community, their belonging treated as conditional rather than integral.

Figures like Nigel Farage add to this climate. He dominates broadcast media, presenting himself as a mainstream voice, yet his rhetoric consistently frames migration and diversity as problems. By defining who does and does not belong, he creates fertile ground in which more extreme actors operate. This is how the boundaries of public discourse are shifted.

And this is not limited to Britain. Across Europe, far-right parties are on the rise. Marine Le Pen in France, Alternative für Deutschland in Germany, and others are no longer fringe movements. In some cases, governments themselves have adopted exclusionary policies that legitimise the same narratives the far right thrives on.

Global ripple of Islamophobia

The connection back to Trump is clear. When the American president stands at the world’s biggest stage and repeats Islamophobic conspiracy theories, it sends a signal. It tells far-right movements they are not marginal. It tells politicians who flirt with division that they will be rewarded, not penalised. It tells governments that hate can be folded into mainstream politics.

Trump also used his UN address to speak about Gaza. He warned countries against recognising Palestine, claiming it would “honour Hamas.” Yet recognition of Palestine has been growing, and the violence on the ground continues.

The juxtaposition is stark: at a time of humanitarian catastrophe, the president chose to focus on denigrating a Muslim mayor in London. Islamophobia here is not an accident.

The challenge for Britain and Europe is whether this climate will be allowed to harden. Riots, mass rallies, graffiti and mosque vandalism are not isolated incidents. Rising Islamophobia does not strengthen Europe. It weakens it, fuelling division and polarisation at a time when leadership is urgently needed.

Our Prime Minister must be unequivocal. Islamophobia is not a side issue. It is a danger to public safety and to democratic life. It must be confronted with the same urgency as any other form of hate. And beyond words, the government must set out a confident national narrative in which all parts of society are proudly part of the whole.

The world needs leadership that faces real crises: ending the suffering in Gaza, addressing displacement, poverty, and climate change. Islamophobia cannot be allowed to become the language of distraction, deflection, or scapegoating.