Political scientist Haoues Seniguer explores how Muslim voices are increasingly silenced by suspicion, as public discourse blurs the line between religious expression and extremist threat in today’s polarized climate.
In recent years, certain buzzwords have gained traction—used loosely and repeatedly, often by media-savvy researchers riding a rising wave of populism and far-right ideology, which they both feed and feed off. Add to that some mainstream political leaders convinced they can beat the far right at the ballot box by borrowing its rhetoric, and you get a toxic mix. But the far right always wins that kind of race to the bottom.
Words like infiltration, Brotherhood, Islamism, separatism, and communitarianism are now everywhere. They’ve become so common that few stop to question them. Their unspoken assumption? That some Muslims aren’t just stepping back from broader society to quietly practice their faith—but are instead pushing a hidden agenda to undermine society and disrupt the social order.
In other words, what may start as a legitimate concern quickly slides into conspiracy thinking. “They” here refers to both those who intentionally weaponize this rhetoric and others who, perhaps sincerely, sense some vague and looming threat.
Muslims treated as inherently suspicious
Yes, it’s possible to acknowledge that extremism exists—especially given the violence carried out in the name of Islam. But to jump from that to widespread conspiracy theories is a leap more and more public figures seem willing to take—whether out of ideology, political strategy, or plain opportunism.
The same people who claim they can separate moderate Muslims from radical Islamists are often the ones subtly spreading the idea that Islamism has already subdued so-called “moderate” Muslims. Those Muslims are then cast either as victims or accomplices—but rarely as fully autonomous individuals.
Targeting Muslims for being visible
It’s no longer just about condemning jihadist violence or vaguely defined Islamism. It’s about actively tracking down supposedly deviant Muslims simply because they’re visible in public life. A woman wearing a headscarf. A man with a beard. A citizen criticizing state policy—whether it’s about the government’s management of Islam, interpretations of secularism, or foreign policy on Israel and Palestine.
Today, just using the word “Islamophobia” can get someone accused of being an Islamist or a Brotherhood sympathizer—or at the very least, an enabler. While Islamism and Brotherhood ideologies do exist, their actual expressions often don’t match the mainstream portrayals.
Speaking out against discrimination, racism, or bigotry is itself viewed as suspicious. In some circles, even calling out bigotry can spark accusations that you’re “putting a target” on those who make Islamophobic comments, whether overt or subtle.
Take the increasingly common claim that the headscarf is inherently a symbol of Islamist submission, or that Brotherhood influence is at play whenever a Muslim protests vandalism at a mosque—a pig’s head or blood left outside a place of worship. Or when someone speaks out against the criminalization of support for Palestine, which is increasingly equated with supporting Hamas, the group behind the October 7 attacks.
Silencing dissenting voices
A Muslim who expresses a dissenting or critical view is now often dismissed outright in the public sphere—written off due to their perceived religious conservatism, whether real or imagined. Claims by a particularly vocal researcher on X (formerly Twitter), now echoed by ministers and media figures, have gained wide traction—to the dismay of many academics. Those same scholars are then accused of Brotherhood sympathies simply for challenging the flimsy academic basis of such claims. Their arguments? Only ex-Muslims are truly equipped to fight Islamism. That logic implies that practicing Muslims—or those deemed “too Muslim”—are either incapable or complicit.
The ‘infiltration’ narrative
The idea of Islamist “infiltration,” aimed squarely at Arab and Muslim communities (or those perceived as such), inevitably veers into conspiracy theory territory—tinged with xenophobia and Islamophobia. These accusations are typically made without evidence. They paint a picture of an internal enemy, secretly plotting with malicious intent.
It’s a strategy that stigmatizes individuals from minority backgrounds or human rights advocates—without ever saying so explicitly. Unless we’re seriously suggesting that most Muslims are engaged in covert Islamist activism, the logic falls apart. But that’s precisely the danger: reducing an entire population to a caricature based on suspicion.
The most dangerous thing about conspiracy thinking is that it doesn’t require proof. All it takes is the claim that Islamism—or Brotherhood ideology—is lying in wait, hiding in the shadows, ready to pounce. Whether or not these supposed Islamists have any kind of mass movement, political party, or elected officials is beside the point. The suspicion itself is enough.
Haoues Seniguer is a political scientist and associate professor at Sciences Po Lyon, a leading French university specializing in political science, international relations, law, and economics. He is an expert on the intersection of Islam and politics, particularly political Islam, secularism, and Muslim identity in Europe.
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