On the night of December 18, 2025, the Dhaka-Mymensingh highway was choked not by traffic, but by the smoke of a human life set ablaze. The lynching of Deepu Chandra Das in Bhaluka, a 25-year-old garment worker, is a harrowing reminder of how easily a personal dispute can be weaponized into a fatal blasphemy accusation. In the wake of such brutality, the term ‘Islamophobia’ is often deployed to dismiss the resulting public anxiety as irrational prejudice. However, when acts of violence are repeatedly committed by mobs invoking religious justification, human cognition does not see a ‘phobia’; it sees a pattern. We must ask: is the fear of a minority worker like Deepu irrational, or is it a survival-driven response to a visible breakdown in institutional justice? To address this, we must move beyond labels and look at the hard reality of pattern recognition and religious responsibility.
Islamophobia is often described as an irrational fear rooted in prejudice and ignorance. However, this characterization becomes contested when individuals argue that their fear is not imagined but learned through repeated exposure to violent acts carried out explicitly in the name of Islam. The debate, therefore, is not merely about intolerance, but about whether fear that emerges from observable patterns in public life can legitimately be dismissed as bigotry.
At the heart of this argument lies the issue of pattern recognition. When acts of mass violence are repeatedly committed by individuals invoking Islamic identity, symbolism, or justification, observers may begin to associate the violence with the ideology being cited. Human cognition is wired to detect patterns as a means of survival. When the same justification for violence appears again and again in public discourse and media reporting, fear can become a conditioned response rather than an abstract prejudice. In this sense, labeling such fear as Islamophobia can appear to shift responsibility away from perpetrators and onto those who feel threatened.
Critics of the label argue that they are not making theological claims about Islam’s doctrines. Instead, they focus on practical consequences. Even if Islam, in its doctrinal form, does not promote violence, that distinction offers little reassurance to non-Muslims confronted with attacks justified through religious rhetoric. In moments of crisis, philosophical clarification cannot disarm an attacker. Survival, not doctrinal nuance, becomes the primary concern.
From this perspective, distancing oneself from an ideology that is frequently cited in acts of violence is framed as a rational act of self-preservation rather than an expression of hatred. The argument asserts that when an ideology, regardless of its original intent, has inspired large numbers of individuals across different contexts to commit acts of terror, individuals outside that ideology are not morally obligated to ignore perceived patterns in favor of ideal interpretations.
Comparisons with other religions often sharpen this claim. Many belief systems that are older, larger, and historically complex have also been misused to justify violence. Yet critics argue that, in the contemporary global context, few are perceived as being invoked as consistently in acts of mass violence. This perception, whether accurate or not, raises uncomfortable questions about interpretation, transmission, and accountability within modern religious movements, including Islam.
Ultimately, the central claim of this argument is not that Islam is inherently violent. Rather, it is that responsibility cannot be deflected entirely onto misinterpretation. When violence persists across cultures, classes, and levels of education under a shared religious banner, internal self-examination becomes unavoidable. Either the message is not being communicated effectively, or extremist interpretations are being insufficiently challenged.
Blaming fear-stricken individuals for their reactions does little to reduce social tension, because what is being labeled as Islamophobia may not always be irrational fear. Without visible accountability and sustained internal critique, calls for tolerance risk sounding hollow to those who feel perpetually endangered.
Writer: Imon Chowdhury is a violinist and rationalist.
