When a British judge last week ruled that criticism of Islam counts as a “protected belief”, it seemed paradoxical: the Equality Act, long accused by the political Right of stifling free expression, was suddenly upholding it. For some, this appeared to confirm that the law is self-contradictory, a statute designed to protect minorities which is now defending the right to criticise religion. Yet perhaps the contradiction lies not in the Act itself, but in a society that has lost the moral compass to distinguish between the fair criticism of ideas and outright discrimination against people.

The Equality Act 2010 has faced growing scrutiny in recent years. Yet the law itself was hardly revolutionary, codifying decades of anti-discrimination statutes into a single, coherent framework. Its purpose was to protect individuals from unfair treatment, not to shield beliefs or groups from criticism. That distinction matters, because interpretation has increasingly become moralistic and ideological, the law repurposed as a proxy for the culture war. One persistent criticism is that the Act’s framework tends to treat people primarily as members of protected groups rather than as individuals. This, in turn, has fuelled the perception that some identities receive special protection at the expense of others.

Of course, this perception is not without basis. It was vividly illustrated in 2019’s Furlong v. Chief Constable of Cheshire Police. Matthew Furlong, a 25-year-old white male, applied to join the force and passed every stage of recruitment — interviews, assessments, and background checks — while receiving glowing feedback throughout. Yet he was ultimately rejected, while several less-qualified candidates from underrepresented groups were accepted. Cheshire Police defended its decision as “positive action” under Section 159 of the Equality Act, designed to improve workforce diversity. Furlong sued, claiming direct discrimination on the grounds of race, sex, and sexual orientation. The tribunal agreed, ruling that Cheshire Police had unlawfully discriminated against him.

This case illustrates how the same law can protect or fail, depending less on its text than on the culture interpreting it. On the surface, it’s easy to conclude that the Equality Act is the problem. Yet it was the very same legislation which protected Matthew Furlong. The real issue, then, is not necessarily in the Act itself but in its broader interpretation.

That interpretation is underpinned by a largely secular, progressive worldview. As Britain’s shared moral culture has waned, equality has been treated not as a virtue but as an ideology. Mottos such as “diversity is our strength” have become bureaucratic substitutes for virtue ethics. Real moral considerations about individuals and how we ought to interpret behaviour have been replaced by procedural compliance. The gravest sin — not that it’s ever put in those terms — is to transgress against multicultural platitudes.

Public bodies and HR departments now interpret “harassment”, “belief”, and “offence” not through prudence or civic friendship, but instead through ideological orthodoxy. The result is a brittle, performative culture in which people fear speaking honestly, even as the spirit of the law is quietly eroded.

The Equality Act presumes a citizenry capable of distinguishing between protecting individuals and protecting ideas. Today, in a Britain steeped in moral relativism and ideological tribalism, that distinction often collapses. The law becomes either weaponised or hollow, a mirror of our divided culture where conservatives see tyranny and progressives see liberation. Both reactions stem from the same root cause, the disappearance of a shared moral vision. Without considerations of virtue, “equality” becomes a tick-box exercise.

Last week’s ruling on Islam rightly prioritises the right to critique a doctrine over the need to protect people from religious persecution. Mere criticism can never truly be thought of as persecution. A remark can be offensive without necessarily violating human dignity. We have seen this borne out in the cases of Sarah Myubi and Maya Forstater, who have tested the moral depth of our public discourse.

The Equality Act, for all its faults, is not our enemy: the real problem is our moral shallowness. It is true that some religions, such as Islam, are more sensitive to criticism than others, but laws can only serve a people capable of interpreting them wisely. Until we recover the habits of virtue — prudence, charity, and justice — our courts will continue to waste time deliberating over what our consciences should already know.

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Jide Ehizele writes on faith, culture, and belonging in modern Britain.

OBEhizele

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