25. March 2026

When Peace Becomes Suspicious: Why the Quakers Are Being Targeted

It feels especially timely to reflect on what is happening to the Quakers right now.

I should also say that this subject has been on my mind more than usual. I am currently reading about how a Quaker woman named Elizabeth Heyrick had a far greater role in the anti-abolition movement than was first thought. It is a reminder that history is rarely simple. Perhaps that is partly why the recent reports of Quaker meeting house raids have struck such a deep sense of horror in my psyche.

With everything unfolding across the world, there are subtle yet deeply concerning developments taking place—events that are easy to overlook, but that deserve our full attention. Last week, Quakers in London were reportedly raided. At first glance, this might seem surprising. Why Quakers? Why would a group so often associated with quiet reflection and peaceful living become the focus of such action?

The answer lies in what they stand for. Today, Quakers are actively campaigning for the right to protest openly, and many are involved in raising funds for humanitarian causes, including support for Gaza. Does that make them a target? Increasingly, it seems that it does—and that should give us pause.

History offers a warning here. During the Second World War, Quakers were often treated with suspicion, even as enemies of the state. Their “crime” was their commitment to peace in a time defined by conflict. Their refusal to align neatly with the prevailing narrative—“you are either with us or against us”—made them difficult to categorise, and therefore easy to distrust.

War, by its nature, depends on division. It thrives on polarity. Without the construction of an enemy, without the steady drumbeat of propaganda, it becomes far harder to mobilise people and sustain conflict. In such an environment, those who challenge the narrative—those who advocate for peace, dialogue, and humanity—can quickly be cast as outsiders, or worse, as threats from within.

Quakers, for many, remain an unknown quantity. Their quiet conviction and refusal to conform to binary thinking can be unsettling in a world that often demands clear sides. But it is precisely this quality that makes them so important—and so vulnerable.

There is a well-known warning, often paraphrased, about how persecution begins: they come for one group, and others remain silent because they are not directly affected—until, eventually, there is no one left to speak. The lesson is not abstract; it is immediate. The easiest place to begin applying pressure is often the softest target. Once that precedent is set, it rarely stops there.

This is why we must approach such stories with care and critical thought. It is easy to dismiss or overlook what is happening when it involves a group we do not fully understand. It is much harder—but far more necessary—to question why it is happening at all.

There are no true winners in war. Beyond the rhetoric and the headlines, conflict leaves devastation in its wake while often enriching only a select few. If there is something to learn from the Quakers, it is not simply their opposition to war, but their unwavering commitment to a different way of being.

Kindness, in their philosophy, is not weakness. It is a deliberate, radical act. It is a refusal to accept that hostility and division are inevitable. In a world that often feels defined by conflict, that may be one of the most powerful stances we can take.

Perhaps, then, the real question is not why the Quakers—but what their treatment says about the direction we are heading, and what we choose to do about it.