In parts of the United Kingdom, particularly within the Pakistani communities of London, Bradford, Birmingham, and surrounding suburbs, a quiet public health crisis has been building for decades. It is not a problem born of poverty or poor access to healthcare. It’s a problem born of tradition—a deeply embedded cultural preference for cousin marriage, particularly first cousins. Though rarely discussed outside medical or academic circles, the consequences have become increasingly visible in hospitals, schools, and genetic studies. Similar patterns have also been noted in communities from Turkey and across parts of the Muslim world, raising broader cultural questions worth examining.
Consanguineous marriage—marriage between blood relatives—is not new. It has existed in various forms across many cultures. European royal families did it for centuries. But while most of the Western world has moved away from the practice, in many Pakistani, Turkish, and Middle Eastern communities, cousin marriage remains common, often preferred. It’s seen as a way to preserve family ties, maintain property within the lineage, and ensure compatibility. Arranged marriages within the extended family are often viewed as more stable, more “known,” and culturally safer than marriages to outsiders.
In parts of Pakistan, around 50% of all marriages are between first or second cousins. That pattern, brought to the UK through immigration and sustained by community expectation, remains prevalent today. One study in Bradford found that 37% of British Pakistani children were born to parents who were first cousins. That’s not a fringe figure. That’s mainstream.
The Medical Fallout
Geneticists and pediatricians have been raising alarms for years, but their warnings often get drowned out by accusations of racism, cultural insensitivity, or political inconvenience. When anyone cries racism, politicians tend to cower, especially in the UK. Yet the data is unambiguous: children born to closely related parents have a significantly higher risk of genetic disorders. This includes rare inherited diseases, neurological problems, learning disabilities, and even higher rates of infant mortality. The National Health Service has reported that children from consanguineous marriages make up a disproportionate share of cases requiring specialized genetic counseling and care.
In Bradford, where one of the UK’s largest Pakistani communities lives, a 2013 report indicated that while Pakistani children made up just 37% of all births, they accounted for over 60% of deaths in infants and young children. Much of that was due to inherited genetic conditions linked directly to inbreeding.
This isn’t about shaming culture. It’s about confronting preventable harm.
Why It Continues
The persistence of this practice isn’t simply about stubbornness or ignorance. It’s reinforced by layers of social and economic logic. Marrying within the family reduces the risk of dowry disputes. It avoids the social hazards of marrying into unknown families. It can even simplify immigration paperwork when marriage is used as a mechanism to bring relatives into the country. There’s also pressure—often unspoken, sometimes forceful—on young people to comply with family arrangements, lest they risk being cast out or disowned.
To challenge cousin marriage in such communities is to challenge an entire structure of social identity, religious comfort, and generational loyalty. It’s not something that can be undone with a public service campaign.
In Turkey, cousin marriage is less common than in Pakistan but still present in certain rural areas. Regional studies show rates between 10% and 20%, particularly in conservative or tribal areas where traditions remain tightly held. Turkish urbanization and integration into the broader European system have contributed to a decline, but even there, the practice lingers—quietly but stubbornly.
A Broader Phenomenon in the Muslim World?
Cousin marriage is not exclusive to Islam, but in much of the Muslim world, it is culturally sanctioned and even encouraged. Religious texts do not forbid it. In fact, early Islamic history contains examples of cousin marriage, lending the practice a form of scriptural legitimacy. This has helped reinforce the idea that it is not only acceptable, but virtuous. The practice is often seen not as a danger, but as a defense against moral corruption from outside influence.
The problem lies not in faith but in the blind preservation of tradition without reflection on modern medical understanding. Across the Muslim world, rates of consanguinity remain high—between 20% and 50% in some Gulf states, and similar numbers in parts of North Africa and South Asia.
Breaking the Silence
Raising awareness about this issue is not easy. Any attempt to question or challenge the practice is often met with outrage, accusations of Islamophobia, or cultural imperialism. Politicians avoid it like plague, fearful of alienating voters or stirring controversy. Doctors tread lightly, caught between duty and diplomacy.
Yet silence doesn’t help the children born with devastating conditions. Silence won’t reduce the strain on healthcare systems. Silence certainly won’t make the problem go away.
Some progress has been made. Community outreach programs in Bradford and Birmingham are working with local leaders to educate families about genetic risks. Quiet conversations are replacing confrontational campaigns. But the pace of change is slow—and not nearly enough.
A Call for Honest Dialogue
If the goal is to reduce suffering, then the issue of cousin marriage must be brought into the open—not to humiliate, but to educate. Cultural sensitivity does not require cultural blindness. A tradition that once served its purpose may now cause more harm than good in a modern context.
This dialogue is a necessity. It is about having the courage to talk about a very real public health issue that too many are afraid to mention because of Pakistanis playing the race card. The children of the families involved deserve better than silence. They deserve better than the cycle they are born into.
