Radical Islam, in both its Shia and Sunni forms, has become one of the most persistent drivers of global instability. It is not a faith but an ideology that weaponises religion to legitimise political domination, suppression of pluralism, and, at times, violence. Once largely restricted to Middle Eastern theatres of conflict, this ideology has extended well beyond the region, taking hold in democratic societies that once assumed themselves insulated from such forces. Wherever it has embedded itself, the consequences have been borne disproportionately by religious minorities, women and political opponents.

Understanding this threat requires distinguishing Islam as a religion from an ideology – radical or political Islam, or Islamist extremism that motivates Islamist political groups and movements. Practised privately or communally by millions, Islam is a diverse faith tradition. Radical Islam, by contrast, treats religion as a total system of governance. It rejects secular authority, democratic legitimacy and pluralism, asserting instead that political rule must derive from a singular interpretation of divine law that can legitimise coercion, violence and punishment of apostates and heretics.

Since 1979, the Islamic Republic of Iran has been the most sustained state sponsor of Shia radicalism. Over four decades, revolutionary theology fused with militarised politics has driven Iran’s regional strategy, producing a transnational network of proxy militias operating across Iraq, Syria, Lebanon, Gaza and Yemen. Rather than acting defensively, these forces function as tools of intimidation and coercion. The consequences have been protracted conflict, erosion of state sovereignty across the Middle East, and deepening of sectarian violence that endangers both regional and global security.

Within Iran itself, political Islam has been fully institutionalised to enforce ideological conformity and suppress dissent. Protest movements have been repeatedly met with mass arrests, killings and torture in custody.

Sunni radical Islam presents a parallel, though distinct, threat. From Muslim Brotherhood-inspired movements to openly jihadist organisations, Sunni Islamist groups have flourished in power vacuums created by war and state collapse. In Iraq and Syria, their expansion has been accompanied by mass violence, forced displacement and sectarian cleansing, particularly in regions inhabited by Yazidi, Druze, Alawite, Christian and Kurdish communities. These patterns underscore a grim reality: wherever Islamist movements gain ground, pluralism collapses and minorities bear the brunt.

Radical Islam, whether Shia or Sunni, also flourishes when left unopposed and intensifies when it is rationalised or excused. Tolerance of the Taleban and repeated concessions were followed by further oppression of women. In Iran, the international community’s accommodation after 1979 enabled radical ideology to grow into an extensive regional web of proxy militias, while in Lebanon, the decision to treat Hezbollah as a legitimate resistance actor allowed it to solidify as a parallel power structure.

Paradoxically, many Muslim-majority states have drawn sobering lessons from these outcomes. Across North Africa, the Middle East and Southeast Asia, governments have moved to curb or suppress Islamist movements after the painful experience of politicised religion undermining social cohesion, economic development and institutional stability.

In Egypt, Algeria, Tunisia, and Morocco, Islamist parties were initially tolerated or integrated into political life, only to be constrained once they triggered paralysis, sectarian tension or economic decline. In the Gulf, Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates both acted decisively against Muslim Brotherhood-linked networks after viewing them as rival sources of authority incompatible with long-term modernisation. Indonesia and Malaysia likewise intervened after terrorist violence and rising sectarianism threatened pluralism and investor confidence.

While many Muslim-majority countries have responded by restraining Islamist movements, Western democracies have been slower to absorb these lessons, allowing the same ideology space to advance. In Australia, the danger posed by radical Islam is part of recent history, from the 2014 Lindt Café siege, the 2015 Parramatta shooting, the 2018 Bourke Street attack in Melbourne, and the 2025 Bondi Beach massacre. Similar patterns are evident across allied democracies, from London and Paris to New York, pointing to a shared test for societies that pride themselves on openness and civil liberty.

Yet as ideas move more freely across borders, the determination to name radical Islamic ideology has often weakened. In several democratic societies, Islamist movements have adapted to work within liberal systems rather than confront them directly, exploiting legal safeguards, cultural sensitivity, and institutional reluctance to challenge ideology.

In the United Kingdom, Islamist groups banned under one name have re-emerged as charities, advocacy organisations, or student societies, promoting illiberal ideas while remaining within the letter of the law. In the United States, some organisations associated with Islamist groups and radical ideology frame their work primarily as civil-rights activism, often building alliances within progressive coalitions that afford them a degree of political insulation.

In France, extended hesitation driven largely by concerns over discrimination, enabled Islamist groups to establish themselves in various neighbourhoods under the banner of religious freedom, exercising informal social control well before the state responded following acts of violence.

The implications extend beyond security concerns. Across universities and sections of the Western media, critical examination of radical Islam is increasingly conflated with prejudice. Academics, journalists, women’s rights campaigners, ex-Muslims, and Muslim reformers who criticise the ideology frequently encounter allegations of ‘Islamophobia’, alongside event cancellations usually justified by safety concerns.

At the same time, Islamist narratives framed in the language of resistance, anti-imperialism, or minority rights are often insulated from sustained critical examination. This does not suggest some hidden coordination, but it does reveal a freezing of public debate, in which institutions retreat from discomfort instead of defending the principles they claim to cherish.

Meeting this moment requires the moral clarity to distinguish Muslims as people from political Islam as an ideology, to scrutinise illiberal doctrines honestly, and to defend free inquiry with courage.

Above all, it requires supporting reformers and dissidents who challenge extremist dogma and totalitarian rule despite bearing the greatest personal risk.

Ignoring radical Islam will not cause it to atrophy. History shows it tends to expand, adapt, and harden.

Vigilance requires confronting extremism before it metastisises into violence and before fear rather than confidence shapes public life.

An open society that cannot name and challenge an ideology hostile to its core values will eventually learn that silence is not tolerance but surrender.