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Sometimes the world is just very cruel and life seems unbearably unfair. Many of us have felt this after the most recent terrorist attack on London Bridge which killed Jack Merritt and Saskia Jones. Their deaths seem particularly tragic as both were killed while trying to help the very people with whom most of us don’t engage. As Jack’s father David Merrit said `his son spoke up for underdogs everywhere especially those dealt a losing hand by life, who ended up in the prison system.’ While much of the subsequent news has focused on blame games between the political parties, on issues around resourcing, probation and police numbers, the word deradicalization crops up time and time again – a long and complex sounding word, it’s defined as moving people away from extreme religious or political ideologies to more moderate views. But can we always draw the distinction between extreme and moderate? It’s true that a nation’s security costs money. But it seems to me that it’s not the power of money as much as the power of language which is crucial to how we address the issue of destructive ideologies which tip into killing innocent civilians. Like the rest of society, many Muslim families will be appalled at what has happened but many will also be aware that resentment and hate don’t grow in isolation, these feelings grow through the words and language used in homes and communities. What often draws the would be terrorist is the allure of those likeminded people who speak of another community, even belonging where it feels right to vilify others, to hate the west and to seek revenge. Here, the language of camaraderie is seductive rather than alienating and the difference between Muslim and non – Muslim, the them and us is sold as an easy fix to the world’s problems. Divisive and discriminatory language isn’t always extreme, it often begins in the mainstream and it seems to me that is our biggest challenge. Calling a place home is a moral commitment – it requires a loyalty and way of being well beyond the criteria of citizenship. It’s easy for some to preach the Qur’anic phrase that Muslims should be united as a single people or body as a way of separating themselves from the wider society. But this Qur’anic phrase also reflects a bigger and more important unity between all of humankind, reflected in the phrase `nations and tribes.’ Prayer, fasting and charity may be important to a language of individual piety, but what truly brings us together are good deeds, words of kindness and acts of generosity – without the language of compassion which recognises the worth of all human beings, of what value is our faith?