The Fight for Justice: Lessons from Britain's 1970s Asian Youth Movements

When Blood Spilled on Southall High Street

There it was: a pool of blood spreading across the pavement. A section of the high street had been cordoned off and a uniformed police officer gestured for bystanders to move along. It was the long hot summer of 1976, and a racist murder had stunned Southall in west London.

I remember reading about that moment in history as a young journalist, but I didn't fully grasp its significance until I delved deeper into the story. The late 1970s was the era of 'Paki-bashing': homes, shops and places of worship were attacked, while south Asians – young and old – were murdered on the streets.

That day, Suresh Grover, then a curious 22-year-old, acted instinctively. Taking some paint, he daubed the pavement near the blood with the words: 'This racist murder will be avenged. We'll get you racist scum.' This wasn't just graffiti – it was a declaration of war against hate.

The Birth of an Anti-Racist Movement

This is the story of working-class youth who refused to turn the other cheek. From Southall to Sheffield and from Brick Lane to Bradford, the Asian youth movements were set up to physically defend communities from racist attacks.

It was because of their heroic efforts that many of us in diverse towns and cities have grown up in safer environments. These weren't just political activists; they were ordinary young people who understood that silence meant complicity.

"The Asian youth movements had a belief in the concept of political blackness as a banner that people of colour could unite under."

Their solidarity wasn't limited to racial lines. The Sheffield Asian Youth Movement and the Indian Workers' Association sent minibuses of their members to picket lines during the 1984-85 miners' strike. They stood with white working-class communities fighting to save their industries, providing much needed financial support while challenging prejudice in these communities.

Rising Tensions: From 1970s to 2026

But more than 50 years on, that racist violence has returned with shocking ferocity. The summer of 2024 marked some of the worst racist rioting in living memory.

In Hartlepool, a young south Asian man was walking down a street when he was punched in the face. Onlookers cheered, laughed and yelled racial slurs. 'A Paki got banged,' one shouted, as those around him began to smash the windows of small businesses and kick down the door of a nearby house.

In Middlesbrough, a group of white men stopped motorists and questioned them about their ethnicity, asking whether they were 'white' before letting them through. In Rotherham and Tamworth, racist mobs tried to burn down hotels housing refugees.

Every five days, a mosque in Britain is attacked. The rhetoric of the far right has been mainstreamed.

Why We Must Learn from History

After years spent researching and writing a book on the rich and proud tradition of political activism in the south Asian community, it's clear that we cannot fight racism in silos. We must build broad movements that transcend racial and religious divides.

The movements of the 1970s understood this instinctively. They saw themselves as part of a broader working class. They monitored the far right and mapped out who was most vulnerable to racist attacks. The Sheffield Asian Youth Movement had a big thick folder called the 'fascist file', in which they would compile information on local racists.

But things changed. As the 20th century wore on, anti-racist activism was increasingly institutionalised as the struggle moved from the streets to council chambers and boardrooms. Where we once had grassroots anti-racist movements rooted in communities, we now have a race-relations industry in which a few people are paid to tackle discrimination.

A New Generation Rises

A revival of grassroots anti-racist movements is long overdue. But it must be of this time, attuned to the changing circumstances of 2026. Racism is not experienced equally. Class, gender and geography all matter.

A hijab-wearing Muslim woman is more likely to be a victim of Islamophobia than a Muslim man. Those living in smaller, more isolated ethnic-minority communities are more vulnerable to racist attack. First-generation migrants have greater insecurity than the grandchildren of migrants.

An effective anti-racist movement must reflect on these challenges and prioritise those most vulnerable to racist violence.

The good news is that we are starting to see a revival of this approach. A few months ago, I spoke alongside Grover at the launch of the Nottinghamshire Solidarity Network, which is taking a strategic approach to anti-racism by organising county-wide to ensure smaller ethnic-minority communities are not left isolated.

Building Tomorrow's Movement

A week later, I spoke at the launch of the Greater Manchester Workers' and Tenants' Association. Its members understand that the far right feeds on deprivation and despair in working-class communities, and they are seeking to organise on the basis of class in an attempt to offer a counter-narrative to that of division and hate.

All of these movements, past and present, understand that racism will not be defeated from above. It will only be defeated by us – ordinary citizens who refuse to look away.

"We were called 'black bastards' on the streets," recalled Tariq Mehmood, an Asian youth movement member who was born in Pakistan but raised in Bradford. "We were commonly united with our African and Afro-Caribbean friends. They didn't know they were black until they came here — I didn't know I was a 'Paki' until I came to Bradford. We were united on those common issues of our oppression."

The time has come for Britain to draw inspiration from the brave souls of the 1970s who refused to be silenced by hate. Their legacy must not be forgotten – it is a blueprint for action in our darkest hour.