Even if you kill my wife and rape my daughter I will not give you the satisfaction of making me hate you. And when you have taken over my continent and revert to 7th century Middle Eastern values, morals and intellectual pursuits, I will refuse to hate you. When my people become a despised minority in their own country, their generous welcome having been ruthlessly taken advantage of, I won’t hate you. And when you are sharpening the knife behind my back and I am kneeling in orange overalls and staring at the video camera, I won’t hate you.
When you have stolen or smashed all the treasured artefacts it took thousands of years to create and maintain, I won’t succumb to hate. And when you blow up my fellow Europeans and shoot hundreds of innocent people in night clubs, still I won’t give you the satisfaction of making me hate you. Instead I will ask for an increase in your numbers into my already over-crowded and barely recognisable country, just to show how you have failed to inspire hate in my heart. Your violence will never move me to petition my government for even basic checks on your people, who demand entry to my country. I will continue to label measures put forward to stem the flow of migrants into my country as bigotry, racism and Islamophobia. This will prove that nothing you could ever do would persuade me to become like you, with your ugly divisive categories and hatred of people who think differently to you. I will never fight fire with fire. I would much rather lose with love than win with hate.
No, even when my headless body is lying in the dirt, next to that of my dead, beloved, violated wife and daughter; when everything I loved has been pillaged or destroyed; when the call to prayer resounds from every mosque in England and every village church has been razed to the ground it will be me, not you, who has won. Why? Because you never managed to make me hate you. Even as you are standing over my dead body, perhaps playing football with my severed head and enjoying the spoils of your victory, you will, without realising it, have lost. You see, what matters more to me than life itself, more than the continuance of my civilisation or the defense of what my ancestors built, more even than the safety of my loved ones, is my own good opinion of myself.