David Haines, Alan Henning, James Foley, and Steven Sotloff. Four names etched in our collective memory, lost to the brutality of ISIL in Syria in 2014. Their murders were not just personal tragedies but acts of barbarism that shocked the world. The grief of their families is unquantifiable, their lives extinguished by a regime that represented the nadir of human depravity. It is our duty to remember them – and to ensure their suffering was not in vain.
The Islamic State group left a trail of devastation that is staggering in its scope. Between 2002 and 2015, ISIL murdered 33,000 people, injured 41,000, and kidnapped 11,000 more. At its height in 2014, this so-called caliphate controlled a swath of territory across Syria and Iraq the size of South Korea. Even after its territorial collapse, ISIL’s mission of terror persists. In 2022, it was responsible for more fatalities from terrorism than any other group globally. Its agenda was unambiguous: territorial domination, governance under a draconian interpretation of Sharia law, and the annihilation of all who opposed it.
It was into this furnace of violence and fanaticism that Shamima Begum, a 15-year-old schoolgirl from Bethnal Green, willingly stepped in February 2015. After deceiving her parents and stealing her sister’s passport, the straight A student boarded a plane from Gatwick to Istanbul, en route to Syria. She joined ISIL, pledged allegiance to its cause, and married an ISIL fighter. Over the next four years, she remained embedded within this terrorist state, losing three children in the process.
Begum’s plight has sparked passionate debate, with many arguing that she was too young to understand her actions, that she was exploited and trafficked, that she has suffered enough and that she is “our” problem. These arguments, while emotionally compelling, falter when confronted with the grim reality of what British citizenship entails – and the enduring threat Begum represents.
Citizenship is not merely a legal status; it is a covenant, a mutual agreement that binds individuals to the nation and its values. To betray that covenant so egregiously as to join a terrorist organisation dedicated to Britain’s destruction is to forfeit the privilege of citizenship. Allowing Begum to return would dishonour the sacrifices of British soldiers who fought and died to preserve our freedoms. It would send a message to the world that our values can be trampled with impunity.
The legal basis underlying Begum’s case is unambiguous. In 2019, then-Home Secretary Sajid Javid stripped her of her citizenship, a decision upheld by the Supreme Court. The evidence presented by MI5 was compelling: Begum posed a clear and present security risk. This risk was deemed unmanageable within the UK, outweighing considerations of her age or claims of trafficking. It was not a decision made lightly but one rooted in the paramount need to protect British lives. Having worked with MI5, I wholeheartedly supported their assessment.
It is also important to address the argument of statelessness. Critics claim that depriving Begum of her British citizenship leaves her without a home. While this is undoubtedly a harsh consequence, it is not one imposed arbitrarily. The Court found that the security risks she posed outweighed any claim to the benefits of citizenship. Statelessness is a grave condition, but the UK has no obligation to extend the privileges of citizenship to individuals who align themselves with terror. There are currently 4 million stateless people worldwide – they are supported by agencies but they do not enjoy the benefits of citizenship. No country owes citizenship outright.
Begum’s own words provide a chilling insight into her mindset. She has justified the Manchester Arena bombing as “retaliation,” a statement that underscores the ideological alignment she maintained with ISIL. While her youth at the time of her departure cannot be ignored, it does not absolve her of responsibility. She made her decision knowingly and maintained her allegiance for four years. These were not the actions of someone coerced but of someone committed.
The case of Shamima Begum is not just a legal matter but a moral and national one. To allow her return would be to undermine the integrity of British citizenship and jeopardise the safety of the public. It would betray the memory of those who have perished at the hands of ISIL and the soldiers who fought to dismantle its terror.
Begum’s story is a cautionary tale, a stark reminder of the perils of radicalisation and the devastating consequences of misguided choices. But it is also a line in the sand. For our security, for our values, and for the memory of those we lost, Shamima Begum must never be allowed back. The cost of our vigilance is high, but the price of complacency is far greater.
