What is radicalisation? And is it compatible with humanism?

By David Warden

In this article, David attempts to clarify what distinguishes humanist conviction from the kind of certainty that can tip into radicalisation. David is chairman of Dorset Humanists and editor of Humanistically Speaking.

This month’s issue of Humanistically Speaking examines radicalisation from multiple angles – from the grip of violent extremism explored by Anthony Lewis, to the contested boundaries of protest in Maggie Hall’s reflections on Just Stop Oil and Palestine Action, to the deep ideological divides on Israel and Gaza addressed by John Baxter, Lloyd Hawkeye Robertson and myself. These contributions reveal something important: humanists agree fiercely on values – but we do not always share the same frames of understanding, nor do we always agree on the methods of bringing about change.

‘Radical’ is a word with an honourable past. It comes from the Latin radix meaning root. To think radically is to go deep, to examine assumptions, to challenge inherited thinking. Humanism has always been radical in this sense: committed to reason, compassion, and freedom against the dogmas of the day.

But ‘radicalisation’ has come to mean something much more troubling. It signals a slide into ideological certainty – an attitude not of inquiry but of crusade. It is what happens when a cause becomes a creed, and when moral confidence becomes moral absolutism.

That distinction matters. Because if humanism is to remain true to itself, it must resist the gravitational pull towards a kind of secular fundamentalism, where slogans replace arguments and the righteous conviction of a movement overtakes the reflective conscience of the individual.

There’s a growing assumption in our culture that to care is to protest. If you are not on the streets, you must not really believe the future is at stake. Whether the issue is climate change or the tragedy of Israel-Gaza, the expectation is clear: outrage is the currency of authenticity. As the activists say, ‘Moderation is cowardice’ and ‘Silence is violence’.

But the world’s most urgent problems – climate change, war, mass migration – are also the most complex. They cannot be solved by chanting, by placards, or by paint thrown on art works or aircraft. Street protest amplifies emotion while filtering out nuance. It elevates simplicity over understanding. It tells us what team we’re on, not what needs to be done.

Humanists have always argued that progress comes from reasoned deliberation: through science, evidence, negotiation, persuasion, and democratic processes. These methods are slow, imperfect, and often frustrating. But they are the only ones that have ever truly worked.

Activism has moral passion on its side. It's born from conscience, solidarity, and a refusal to look the other way. And history reminds us that movements which challenge power are sometimes essential: the civil rights movement, the battle for women’s suffrage, the struggle for gay rights. It would be absurd to dismiss such traditions entirely.

Yet there is a line where activism becomes radicalisation – and humanists, of all people, must be alert to that boundary. Radicalisation begins when:

• Dialogue is replaced by dogma

• Disagreement is censured as denial

• Ends are thought to justify means

• Violence becomes acceptable

• Those who question the movement are labelled as enemies

At that point, the cause – no matter how just – becomes contaminated by its own certainty.

Humanism offers something different: a politics of humility. We don’t assume that our opponents are wicked, or that our allies are saints. We know that even the most passionate convictions may be mistaken. We accept that democratic negotiation – however slow – is a safeguard against our own fallibility.

In short: humanism is not identical with activism. It may be activist, but it’s a form of activism moderated by doubt. Humanism is ‘conviction with humility’. It’s caring without claiming omniscience.

Perhaps the truest radicalism today is not the loudest slogan or the boldest stunt, but the courage to keep talking – and to keep listening – even when emotions are high and the atmosphere is charged. The humanist task is not to silence those who disagree, but to hold open the space in which disagreement is still possible.

Because once we become too certain to listen, we've already taken the first step away from humanism.