A GB News contributor is at the centre of a racism row after saying that deputy speaker Nusrat Ghani shouldn’t be allowed in the House of Commons because she was born in Pakistan.

Right-wing activist Lucy White made the sweeping statement on X after the Tory MP’s barnstorming display in the Commons this week while overseeing the Budget.

She doubled down on her comments despite widespread criticism and accusations of racism, saying: ‘Did you know that a Bengali Tiger born in Siberia remains a Bengali Tiger.’

The University of Cambridge graduate, who describes herself as a ‘public policy specialist’, added: ‘It’s incredible how stating something so obvious, that English people should rule England, NOT foreigners, has sparked such a huge debate.’

Married mother-of-one Ms Ghani, 53, was born in Kashmir and raised in Birmingham.

Oxfordshire Conservative councillor Liam Walker branded her ‘a racist’ and said that ‘no broadcaster should put this racist on TV to spread her despicable hatred’.

Islamophobia monitoring group Tell Mama has written to GB News asking for an explanation, reported The Guardian.

Ms White has previously appeared on TalkTV where she spoke about Shabana Mahmood’s suitability as a Home Secretary because she is from Pakistan.

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Right-wing activist Lucy White is at the centre of a racism row after saying that deputy speaker Nusrat Ghani shouldn’t be allowed in the House of Commons because she was born in Pakistan

Nusrat Ghani (pictured), Conservative MP for Sussex Weald, was overseeing the main debate as under-fire Chancellor Rachel Reeves delivered her Budget to Parliament

Ms White took umbrage at the politician being allowed to step foot in the lower house of Parliament, writing on her X account: Nus Ghani was born in Kashmir, Pakistan. There should not be a single person born in Pakistan in the UK House of Commons’

GB News and TalkTV have both distanced themselves from her comments with the latter saying they had no plans to invite her back ‘in the foreseeable future’.

GB News said her comments ‘do not reflect the views or values of the channel’ but did not say whether she would be allowed to appear on the channel again.

Ms White is listed as a ‘global public policy advisor’ on US lobbying firm Gunster Strategies’ website.

The group previously supported the Brexit campaign, while CEO Gerry Gunster was involved in Donald Trump’s 2016 presidential campaign.

Ms Ghani received high praise this week for her display in the Commons. She attracted attention for her natty attire including a checked tie as well as her stern words following a gaffe by the Office for Budget Responsibility.

But Ms White took umbrage at the politician being allowed to step foot in the lower house of Parliament, writing on her X account on Wednesday: ‘Today, the Deputy Speaker presiding over the Budget Statement in the UK House of Commons is Nus Ghani.

‘Nus Ghani was born in Kashmir, Pakistan. There should not be a single person born in Pakistan in the UK House of Commons.’

She made further comments on the social media platform on Thursday and Friday in defiant defence of her remarks in response to fierce criticism.

She doubled down on her comments despite widespread criticism and accusations of racism

Ms White is listed as a ‘global public policy advisor’ on US lobbying firm Gunster Strategies’ website

Despite conceding Ms Ghani ‘does a good job’, she said: ‘But this is not an excuse to demographically replace our own people.’

A spokesperson for Tell Mama told The Guardian: ‘Anyone espousing such views essentially marginalises and takes out of our political life anyone who has an international heritage.

‘This is distinctly discriminatory and verges on racially segregated discourse which is simply a red line.’

Ms White has previously made similar comments about Ms Mahmood, who is of Pakistani descent.

In September, following the Labour MP’s appointment as Home Secretary, the activist said ‘I have no words’.

Last month, Ms White wrote on X: ‘People like Mahmood, a Pakistani Muslim who has the audacity to larp around as English, is the cause of division in our country. The only way to ‘unite a divided country’ is by sending the third worlders home. They will be more comfortable with their own people and so will we.’

Ms Ghani is the senior of Deputy Speakers, with roles including presiding over Budget discussions instead of the Speaker as part of Westminster tradition.

She previously served in various ministerial roles during the former Conservative government, such as Europe minister and Lord Commissioner of the Treasury.

Ms Ghani has chaired Parliament’s Ways and Means committee since last year – having been elected Deputy Speaker in July 2024, not long after Sir Keir’s Labour government came to power.

She has been an MP since 2015, winning in the West Sussex constituency of Wealden before boundary changes last year saw her seat redrawn as Sussex Weald.

Ms Ghani told in 2022 that she had been dismissed from her Conservative government job as transport minister due to her Muslim faith.

She alleged she was told by a whip her ‘Muslimness was raised as an issue’ at a post-reshuffle meeting and that her status as a Muslim woman and a minister was ‘making colleagues feel uncomfortable’.

She told The Times she felt ‘humiliated and powerless’ after the alleged conversation, saying: ‘It was like being punched in the stomach.’

Ms White has previously made similar comments about Home Secretary Shabana Mahmood, who is of Pakistani descent

Government sources close to the whips’ office strenuously denied the allegation.

She received online praise earlier this week for her stewardship of the Budget debate.

Social media responses have included ‘Nusrat Ghani truly serving looks and a telling off’, ‘Nusrat Ghani – Deputy Speaker is usually superb, and today exemplifies why’ and ‘My main budget take away is that I could listen to Nusrat Ghani all day long’.

Another poster on X, formerly Twitter, wrote: ‘Nusrat Ghani should take over as Speaker.

‘She has shown she is capable of controlling the clown show that the Commons has become unlike the current holder of that position.’

TalkTV said Ms White was an occasional contributor, before a spokesperson added: ‘The views she expresses are her own, and her recent social media post referring to Nus Ghani was reprehensible.

‘We have no plans to invite Lucy White back on Talk in the foreseeable future.’

A spokesperson for GB News said: ‘Comments expressed on personal social media accounts by individuals who have appeared on our platforms do not reflect the views or values of the channel.’

The Daily Mail has contacted Ms Ghani’s office for further comment.

The controversy surrounding a GB News and TalkTV contributor erupted with startling speed, sending ripples across British media, Parliament, and the wider public after he declared during a live discussion that “there should not be a single person born in Pakistan in the UK House of Commons.” The remark, delivered with an unsettling bluntness, triggered immediate backlash not only because of its discriminatory nature but because it revealed a deeper cultural tension simmering beneath the political landscape. Britain has long defined itself as a democracy enriched by diversity, shaped by waves of immigration, and bound by a shared civic identity rather than ethnic homogeneity. Against that backdrop, the contributor’s comments struck many as not merely offensive but fundamentally incompatible with the values of representative democracy. The discussion that followed grew far larger than the man who made the remark; it became a national conversation about identity, inclusion, belonging, and the responsibilities of the media in moments when lines are crossed.

The remark itself was jarring. Viewers watched as the contributor delivered it in the midst of an argument over the cultural representation of immigrants in British politics. The conversation had already been tense, revolving around disagreements about immigration policy and national identity, but nothing prepared the panel, the hosts, or the public for the sudden escalation into explicitly exclusionary rhetoric. The moment he made the statement, there was a shift in the studio atmosphere—a collective intake of breath, a visible discomfort settling over the room. Some of his fellow contributors froze, others attempted to interject, and still others looked down at their notes, perhaps unsure how to respond without amplifying the shock of the moment. It was a line that, once spoken, could not be unsaid.

Clips of the exchange flooded social media within minutes, spreading across platforms as thousands expressed disbelief, anger, sadness, and disappointment. For many, the remark exposed a painful truth: that no matter how integrated British-Pakistani communities have become, no matter how diligently they contribute to national life, there remain individuals willing to publicly question their legitimacy as British citizens. Politicians, journalists, activists, and ordinary viewers weighed in, each offering reflections shaped by personal experience. Some saw the remark as yet another chapter in an ongoing pattern of inflammatory rhetoric in modern media spaces, where shock value has too often been mistaken for political commentary. Others saw it as a moment of clarity—one that revealed how thin the veil can be between coded language and open prejudice.

GB News and TalkTV found themselves under intense scrutiny. Both networks had invited the contributor into their spaces, given him airtime, and platformed his opinions, though neither had anticipated the way this particular segment would unfold. Statements were quickly released condemning racism and distancing the networks from the contributor’s views. Internally, editorial meetings were convened to discuss how such an incident could have occurred and how better to prevent similar episodes in the future. The delicate balance between open debate and responsible broadcasting had been tested, and many argued it had been breached. Defenders of the networks insisted that live television inevitably carries risks. Critics countered that with such risks comes responsibility—a responsibility some felt had been neglected.

Meanwhile, politicians from across the political spectrum voiced concern. British-Pakistani MPs in particular spoke with eloquence and strength about the value of representation. They reminded the public that their presence in the House of Commons is not merely symbolic; it reflects the diversity of the electorate. Their voices carry the stories, perspectives, and lived experiences of communities that form an integral part of the United Kingdom. To suggest they do not belong was not only discriminatory but deeply ignorant of the principles upon which parliamentary democracy is built. Members of Parliament who were not of immigrant descent also condemned the statement, acknowledging that an attack on the legitimacy of one group of elected officials is, in essence, an attack on democratic legitimacy itself.

Within British-Pakistani communities, the emotional response was intense and layered. Many described feeling disheartened but not surprised. They had, for years, navigated the tension of belonging and otherness—of being both British and Pakistani, of contributing to society yet encountering pockets of resistance to their full acceptance. Others described feeling hurt not only for themselves but for younger generations who looked up to the MPs now being targeted. Representation tells children who they can become; exclusion tells them who society believes they should not be. Parents expressed fear that comments like these would discourage young British-Pakistanis from engaging in politics, public service, or leadership roles. Community groups held meetings, discussions, and prayer circles where people could voice their feelings, reaffirm their identities, and support one another through a moment that reopened old wounds.

The contributor at the center of the controversy attempted to clarify his remarks, though his responses only deepened the divide. He insisted he had been speaking in defense of cultural preservation, not expressing racial hostility. But his explanation faltered under the weight of the words he had chosen. There is a vast difference between critiquing political ideologies and excluding an entire group of people based solely on their place of birth. Many interpreted his clarification as deflection. Others saw it as an attempt to retreat from the consequences of his rhetoric. His remarks had crossed a bright line—one that separated provocative commentary from discrimination.

The media, as always, played a complex role in shaping the unfolding narrative. Some outlets focused on the shock factor, replaying the clip repeatedly without providing context. Others used the occasion to highlight the broader issue of rising xenophobia in political discourse. Long-form analyses explored how divisive rhetoric has gained traction in recent years, particularly in polarized media environments where the boundaries of acceptable speech are increasingly tested. Scholars in sociology, political science, and media studies contributed insights, pointing to global patterns in which economic uncertainty, cultural anxiety, and political polarization create fertile ground for exclusionary narratives.

And yet, amid the outrage, something remarkable occurred: a counter-movement emerged. Social media filled not only with condemnation but with messages of solidarity. British-Pakistanis shared their stories—of their families, their contributions, their hopes, their pride. Non-Pakistani Britons joined in, affirming that their friends, neighbors, colleagues, and fellow citizens belonged fully and unquestionably. Hashtags calling for unity trended alongside calls for accountability. Thousands expressed gratitude for the countless British-Pakistani doctors, teachers, MPs, engineers, bus drivers, artists, soldiers, and public servants who shape daily life across the nation. These stories became the moral backbone of the conversation—a reminder that identity is not a threat but a tapestry.

MPs born in Pakistan or of Pakistani heritage responded with grace, refusing to let the remark define them. One spoke about the honor of serving the constituency that elected them. Another described the pride they felt when parents told them their children finally saw themselves reflected in politics. Several reminded the public that they were elected not by accident or by charity, but by democratic choice—a choice that deserves respect. Their words resonated far beyond Westminster. They became symbols of resilience, dignity, and commitment in the face of ignorance.

As the days passed, the controversy evolved from a moment of shock into something more reflective. People began to ask deeper questions: How do we maintain open debate without enabling prejudice? What role should broadcasters play in setting boundaries? How do we heal communities harmed by public rhetoric? What steps are needed to ensure Parliament remains representative and inclusive? And perhaps most importantly, how do we foster a society where belonging is not conditional?

Media organizations discussed the need for more rigorous editorial oversight. Advocacy groups called for training on cultural competency and anti-discrimination for all public commentators. Political leaders urged broadcasters to reaffirm their commitment to maintaining democratic values within public discourse. These conversations, though difficult, marked progress. They signaled a collective recognition that Britain’s multicultural identity is not a weakness but a profound strength—and that protecting it is a shared responsibility.

In private moments, many individuals reflected on why the remark resonated so deeply. It struck at the heart of a fundamental truth: belonging is not just a legal status; it is emotional, lived, communal. When someone questions your right to participate in the political system of your home—your birthplace, your identity, your community—it is not merely an ideological attack but a deeply personal one. And yet, the responses from across the country demonstrated something powerful: Britain’s commitment to inclusivity runs deeper than the prejudices of a single commentator.

In the weeks that followed, the contributor’s credibility diminished significantly. Sponsors withdrew support. Networks reassessed his participation. His reputation, once built on provocative commentary, now stood on shaky ground. But more than the personal consequences he faced, the incident triggered a national dialogue with lasting implications. It revealed the fragility of social harmony but also the strength of collective resistance to divisive rhetoric.

The public proved that they would not accept exclusion as the norm. They demonstrated that representation is a value worth defending. They showed that democratic legitimacy is rooted not in homogeneity but in diversity, accountability, and shared humanity. The outcry became a declaration that people born in Pakistan or anywhere else, who choose to call the UK home and participate in its civic life, belong fully—not conditionally, not cautiously, but unequivocally.

In the end, the remark intended to diminish belonging only strengthened it. It mobilized communities, united allies, and reaffirmed the importance of representation. It reminded the country that prejudice, when exposed, can be challenged; and that democracy, when threatened, can be defended. It showed that while one voice may attempt to exclude, millions more can speak up to include.

And perhaps that is the true lesson of the controversy—not merely that racism must be condemned, but that unity, when awakened, is far more powerful than any attempt to divide.

In the days that followed the initial eruption of outrage, something far more complex than public condemnation began to unfold—a slow, emotional reckoning that touched individuals and communities in ways that could not be measured simply by headlines or trending hashtags. Hurt, anger, reflection, resilience, and hope all intertwined as people across the country tried to make sense of what the contributor’s words revealed about the state of modern Britain. For many British-Pakistanis, the remark did not simply exist in isolation; it reopened a lifetime of memories, each one carrying traces of exclusion, subtle discrimination, or moments when their belonging was quietly questioned. Yet what emerged alongside these reminders of old wounds was a collective strength that refused to let the narrative of exclusion dominate the story. As conversations grew deeper and more widespread, people began to look beyond the immediate shock and toward something more profound: the question of how a society chooses to respond when its moral boundaries are tested.

In countless homes, workplaces, mosques, community centers, and classrooms, people gathered to talk about what had happened. Parents sat with their children, attempting to explain in soft words why someone on television would say something so hurtful. Teachers adjusted their lesson plans to allow room for discussion, giving students the space to voice their fears, confusion, or frustrations. Community leaders organized forums, offering safe environments where individuals could speak openly about how the controversy had affected them personally. And in these spaces, a kind of emotional alchemy took place. The anger and sadness that many felt gradually transformed into something steadier: determination.

For British-Pakistani MPs, the days following the incident were emotionally taxing. They found themselves in a strange dual role—both the target of discrimination and the symbol of resistance. They had to hold their emotions gently while standing publicly with strength and dignity, knowing that every word they spoke would carry the weight of representation. Behind closed doors, some admitted feeling exhausted by the constant need to defend their right to belong in a place they had devoted their lives to serving. Some confided in friends that they feared the psychological cost of repeatedly being asked to justify their presence in a Parliament they had worked tirelessly to earn a place in. And yet, every one of them rose to the moment with a quiet, commanding grace.

Throughout their interviews and speeches, they reframed the narrative. Instead of focusing on the hurtful remark, they illuminated what it meant to be a representative of Britain today—how diversity enriched governance, how their lived experiences offered perspectives crucial to policymaking, how their constituencies depended on their voices. They reminded the country of the reality that British identity has never been monolithic; it has always been a tapestry woven from countless threads. Their ability to take an incident rooted in exclusion and turn it into a declaration of belonging was nothing short of extraordinary.

But the emotional journey of the country did not rest solely with those targeted. Many individuals with no personal ties to Pakistan found themselves deeply shaken. They described a kind of moral discomfort, a sense that something precious had been threatened—not just the dignity of one community, but the integrity of British democracy itself. People who had never engaged deeply with issues of representation before suddenly found themselves thinking about what it means to have a Parliament that reflects its people. Friends who had backgrounds in political science, law, teaching, or social work found themselves writing long posts online or sending letters to editors, expressing how vital it was for the public to stand against language that undermines equality.

As these emotions rippled across the country, something subtle yet powerful began to shift. The controversy evolved from a flashpoint into an awakening. It pushed people to confront uncomfortable truths about systemic bias and the insidious ways in which exclusion can hide behind respectable language. It made people think about what it takes to defend democratic principles—not merely through laws or institutions, but through everyday actions, conversations, and values.

Meanwhile, inside the British-Pakistani community, a different kind of emotional journey was unfolding. Many older immigrants found themselves reflecting back on their arrival in the UK decades earlier. They remembered the challenges of settling into a new country—working long hours in unfamiliar industries, facing social barriers, or grappling with loneliness and cultural adjustments. They recalled the pride they felt when their children excelled, when one of their own became a doctor, a lawyer, a business owner, or eventually, against all odds, a Member of Parliament. To hear someone publicly question the presence of people born in Pakistan in the House of Commons felt like an erasure of decades of sacrifice, effort, and contribution. And yet, those same elders also expressed gratitude that the country had responded with overwhelming rejection of the discriminatory remark. Many described feeling seen, defended, and supported in ways that had not always been true in earlier decades.

The contributor at the center of the storm remained in the public eye for longer than perhaps he expected. His attempts to explain or reframe his comments continued to surface in media discussions, but the narrative had already moved beyond him. His remark had become a catalyst for a national conversation of far greater depth than any single person could control. And in a strange, ironic way, his words—intended to exclude—ultimately helped reaffirm belonging.

Activists seized the moment to push for broader change. They argued that media platforms must include more training around cultural competency and ethical responsibility. They highlighted the importance of diverse voices in newsrooms, pointing out that representation behind the camera is just as crucial as representation in front of it. They called on regulators to re-examine the standards of commentary permitted on air, especially in live debates where inflammatory rhetoric can slip through unchecked. These calls were not made in anger alone but in a spirit of progress, a belief that the moment of crisis should be transformed into an opportunity for growth.

As journalists across the country examined the controversy, many wrote pieces that grappled with the larger questions it revealed. Some explored the rise of polarizing commentary in modern media and the pressures broadcasters face to produce content that engages audiences in an increasingly competitive landscape. Others reflected on Britain’s multicultural identity, tracing its evolution from post-war immigration to the present day. They wrote about the tension between nationalism and inclusivity, the complexities of citizenship, and the enduring importance of representation in shaping national unity. Through these analyses, a richer, more nuanced understanding emerged—a recognition that the fabric of British society is strongest when its diversity is embraced.

Ordinary viewers, too, continued to engage emotionally with the story. They posted messages of support for British-Pakistani MPs, signed petitions, held discussions at work, and reached out to friends of Pakistani heritage to express solidarity. Some shared stories of how their Pakistani colleagues, neighbors, or friends had shaped their lives in positive ways. Others admitted that the controversy had pushed them to reflect more deeply on their own assumptions and prejudices, prompting them to ask themselves difficult questions about the world they wanted to help build.

There were also quieter, more personal emotional responses unfolding—moments that didn’t appear in the media but were deeply significant in private lives. Young British-Pakistanis who had grown up hearing subtle messages that they needed to “prove themselves” found themselves wrestling with renewed feelings of self-doubt. Some wondered whether their dreams of public service or leadership were now tainted with uncertainty. But in the midst of those fears, many discovered strengthened resolve. Teachers, mentors, parents, and community leaders reassured them that they not only belonged in Britain but were essential to its future. They reminded them that progress is built by those who continue to show up, even when met with resistance.

And indeed, the younger generation responded with an optimism that was both moving and inspiring. Many wrote messages online promising that the remarks would not deter them. They spoke about wanting to pursue politics, law, public service, medicine, teaching—professions that contribute to society in meaningful ways. They spoke about wanting to honor their families’ sacrifices and challenge narrow definitions of belonging. Their voices carried a clarity that cut through the noise: they refused to inherit the limitations others tried to place upon them.

Slowly, as the initial shock faded and a more reflective tone settled over the country, even those who had not been directly involved began to understand something vital: the strength of a democracy lies not in avoiding discomfort but in confronting it. When discriminatory remarks are made publicly, they force society to choose between silence and solidarity. This time, solidarity won.

In the end, the legacy of the controversy became something different from what anyone expected. It became a mosaic of emotional stories—of hurt transformed into strength, of division answered with unity, of fear overshadowed by hope. It became a reminder that belonging is not dictated by birthplace but by contribution, commitment, and shared humanity. And it became proof that while prejudice can still surface in public discourse, the collective conscience of the country is far stronger than the narrow views of any one individual.

What began as a painful moment ultimately grew into an affirmation of the values Britain strives to uphold: equality, representation, respect, dignity, and the belief that democracy thrives when its Parliament reflects the people it serves. Every person, no matter where they were born, who dedicates themselves to the betterment of their country, has a rightful place within its governing institutions. That truth, once again, was defended fiercely.

In the quiet after the storm, communities began to settle back into their daily routines. But something essential had shifted. A new resolve had taken root—a resolve to remain vigilant, to protect inclusivity, and to ensure that the next generation grows up knowing without question that they belong. The controversy did not break the country; it strengthened it. It reminded people of who they were and who they aspired to be.

And perhaps, in the end, the greatest victory was this: the remark that attempted to exclude instead illuminated the unbreakable truth that British identity is expansive, generous, and irrevocably enriched by all who call the country home. No amount of prejudice can erase that. No moment of ignorance can overshadow it. The nation, collectively, chose to stand on the side of unity.

And in that choice, Britain found not just a response, but its reflection.