Division is not what places like Oldham need. The far right and far left instil raw rage.
Twenty-five years after race riots scarred the north of England, Oldham finds itself again at a crossroads — not in the streets, but in the chambers of local democracy. The May 2026 elections left the 250,000-resident borough without a governing majority, as Reform UK and pro-Gaza independents eroded Labour's long hold, while former council leader Arooj Shah — who endured death threats, a torched car, and sustained racist and misogynistic abuse — warns that identity politics and misinformation are doing what riots once did: pulling communities apart along the seams of grievance and fear. Her departure marks not merely a change in leadership, but a test of whether civic institutions can hold when truth is weaponised and solidarity is replaced by faction.
- Oldham's council has been frozen for three weeks since the May elections, with no party holding overall control and a critical governance meeting still weeks away.
- Reform UK and pro-Gaza independents have carved the electorate into competing grievance blocs, each telling a different community it has been abandoned by everyone else.
- Arooj Shah, the borough's first Muslim woman leader, was driven from public life by death threats, a burned car, and social media lies about grooming gang cover-ups that a safeguarding review found no evidence to support.
- A £450 million regeneration scheme and national recognition as the most improved council sit uneasily alongside a political stalemate that threatens to undo years of community cohesion work.
- Shah and others are now watching Oldham as a warning signal — a preview of what political fragmentation along identity lines may look like in towns across England.
Arooj Shah stepped down as Oldham's council leader in May, and the borough quickly fell into political deadlock. The elections had broken Labour's grip on the Greater Manchester town, leaving Reform UK with 16 seats, a bloc of pro-Gaza independents with 10, and Labour reduced to 18. Three weeks on, no agreement on leadership had been reached, and a crunch meeting loomed in mid-June.
The timing carried heavy symbolism. This week marked 25 years since the race riots that tore through Oldham, Burnley, and Bradford in 2001. Shah said the town had since known relative peace — but something had shifted. She pointed to identity politics and extremist movements on both flanks, and to lies that had poisoned civic life. The central falsehood concerned Oldham's grooming gang scandal: unsubstantiated social media claims alleged a Labour cover-up. A safeguarding review found no such evidence, but the narrative had taken hold and become a weapon aimed squarely at Shah.
As a Muslim woman leading a Muslim-majority town, she became a focal point for rage. She received voice messages threatening rape and death. Her car was torched in 2021. She could not visit the market she had helped revitalise without Home Office security. Her office required attack-resistant doors. Shah was clear about what she believed was driving it: 'Absolutely the politics in Oldham are toxic — because there's a Muslim leader of the council and some people don't accept that.'
She saw the same logic of weaponised grievance operating across the spectrum. Reform UK told white working-class voters they had been left behind by immigrants. The pro-Gaza independents told Muslim residents that no one cared about Palestine. Both were fracturing the electorate along lines of identity rather than shared interest. Shah's exasperation was pointed: 'Netanyahu is not waiting for Arooj from Oldham to give him a call.'
The cruelest irony was the backdrop against which all this unfolded. Oldham was mid-way through a £450 million regeneration scheme, had been named the most improved council in England, and was bucking the trend of declining high streets. Shah had been named leader of the year. But she insisted that economic progress and community cohesion were inseparable — without the sense of being in it together, no investment would hold.
She remembered her parents arriving in the late 1950s, a time when, she said, 'everybody was one.' The Oldham she now watched — fragmented, mistrustful, locked in stalemate — was not the town she recognised. Whether its parties could find a way to govern together, or whether it would remain a cautionary tale for towns across England facing similar fractures, remained an open question.
Arooj Shah stepped down as leader of Oldham council in May, and within weeks the borough descended into political deadlock. The May elections had shattered Labour's grip on the 250,000-resident Greater Manchester borough, leaving no party with overall control. Reform UK emerged as the second-largest faction with 16 councillors, while a group of pro-Gaza independents claimed 10 seats. Labour, which had governed the town, was reduced to 18. Three weeks after the vote, the council remained frozen—no agreement on leadership, no framework for how the parties might work together. A crunch meeting was scheduled for mid-June, but the damage to the institution's functioning was already visible.
Shah's warning came at a moment heavy with historical weight. This week marked 25 years since the race riots that tore through Oldham, Burnley, and Bradford in 2001. Those eruptions had scarred the region's memory. In the quarter-century since, Oldham had invested in community cohesion work, and Shah said the town had known relative peace. "No trouble on the street," she recalled. But something had shifted. The fragmentation of the vote, Shah believed, reflected a deeper fracturing—one driven by what she called identity politics, by extremist movements on both flanks, and by lies that had poisoned the town's civic conversation.
The lies centered on Oldham's grooming gang scandal, a real crime that had caused real suffering. But unsubstantiated claims circulated on social media that Labour had covered it up. A safeguarding review found no such evidence. Yet the false narrative had taken root, and it had become a weapon. Shah, a Muslim woman leading a Muslim-majority town, became a focal point for the rage. She received voice messages telling her she deserved to be raped and killed. In 2021, someone torched her car. Last year, a man was reported to police for threatening her life. She could not shop at the market she had helped revitalize without Home Office security. The council leader's office had attack-resistant doors.
Shah was explicit about what she believed was happening. "Absolutely the politics in Oldham are toxic—because there's a Muslim leader of the council and some people don't accept that," she said. The abuse she endured was not incidental to the political moment; it was central to it. Being a woman, from a marginalized community, working-class—these identities had made her a target. But she was also one of the strongest voices in the town calling for accountability for the perpetrators of the grooming crimes. The girls who had been harmed were the ones who mattered most, she insisted. Yet that clarity had been drowned out by the noise.
Shah saw the same pattern playing out across the political spectrum. Reform UK was telling white working-class communities that immigrants had left them behind. The pro-Gaza independents were telling residents that no one cared about Palestine. Both were weaponizing grievance. Both were fragmenting the electorate along lines of identity and conviction rather than building coalitions around shared interest. "You've got the far right telling white working class communities: 'You've been left behind because of immigrants', and you've got the Oldham Group saying: 'Nobody cares about you, nobody's done anything about Gaza,'" Shah said. She added, with a note of exasperation: "Netanyahu is not waiting for Arooj from Oldham to give him a call."
The irony was sharp. Oldham was in the midst of a £450 million regeneration scheme. Eton College was planning to open a sixth-form academy in the town. Last year, Oldham had been named the most improved council at the Local Government Chronicle Awards, and Shah herself had been named leader of the year. The town was bucking the trend of declining high streets. Economic development was real. But Shah believed that economic justice and community cohesion were inseparable. "The issue we have in this country is class," she said. Without cohesion, without the sense that people were in it together, the money and the projects would not hold.
When Shah's parents arrived in the late 1950s, they had done everything they could to integrate. "Everybody was one," she remembered. But now, watching identity and grievance politics play out in her hometown, she saw something different. The Oldham she knew cared for each other and was resilient. This new fragmentation was not the town she recognized. "Your divisiveness is tearing communities apart," she said, speaking to the forces that had fractured the vote and poisoned the air. The question now was whether the parties could find a way to govern together, or whether Oldham would remain locked in stalemate—a cautionary tale for other towns where similar fractures were beginning to show.
Citas Notables
Division is not what places like Oldham need. The far right and the far left are not healthy for any place. They instil raw rage in people—it's absolutely dangerous.— Arooj Shah, former Oldham council leader
Economic justice and community cohesion are inseparable. The issue we have in this country is class.— Arooj Shah
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
When you say identity politics is tearing communities apart, what do you mean by that phrase? It gets used a lot.
Shah means that instead of parties competing on what they'll actually do for people—jobs, housing, services—they're organizing around who people are and what they believe about identity questions. Reform says immigrants are the problem. The pro-Gaza group says Palestine is the test of whether you care. And in that split, the town loses the ability to govern itself.
But isn't caring about Gaza or immigration legitimate? Why is that automatically divisive?
It is legitimate. The problem Shah identifies is when those become the organizing principle of local government, when they prevent parties from working together on anything else. A town still needs its bins collected, its roads fixed. If the council is paralyzed because no one will talk to anyone else, those things don't happen.
She received death threats and had her car torched. How much of her warning comes from personal trauma versus political analysis?
Both. The abuse she endured is real evidence of how toxic the environment has become. But she's not speaking from victimhood—she's speaking from having tried to govern through it. She's saying: I've done the work, I've built things, and this fragmentation is making it impossible to continue. The personal and the political are inseparable here.
What does she think should happen next?
She doesn't say explicitly. But the implication is clear: the parties need to find a way to work together, to remember that they're all serving the same town. The crunch meeting in June will tell you whether that's possible or whether Oldham stays locked in stalemate.
And if it stays locked?
Then you have a functioning town—economically, regeneration is happening—but a broken council. And that becomes a template for what could happen elsewhere.