Reconstruction Vol. 11, No. 4
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Post-9/11 Nihilism and the Mission for Meaning / Bill Durodié
<1> At the height of the Mumbai siege in November 2008, one of the perpetrators, Fahad Ullah, used the mobile phone of one of the victims to call India TV and conducted a live interview with two journalists there. About a minute into their conversation, the two journalists, one male, one female, each asked in turn "What are your demands?". Ullah answered "Wait one minute" and was heard consulting with someone else as to what their demands were. The episode is one of the most revealing vignettes of the nature of contemporary terrorism. [1]
<2> It may well be that all of the perpetrators were from Pakistan originally. They may well have been trained and even controlled by someone there. But even if the perpetrators of the Mumbai attack were naïve canon-fodder, as some commentators have suggested (see, for example, Chaudhuri 2008), it is striking that, even to this day, no-one has come forward to claim responsibility for it, or to identify their demands and purposes. If, as we have consistently been told since 9/11, most of the terrorist incidents we see around the world today are part of some resurgent Islamist conspiracy, then the leaders of this particular atrocity appear to have been somewhat backward about coming forward and highlighting their cause. Could that be because they do not have one? They would certainly not be the first in this position. Indeed, one of the most striking features of contemporary terrorism is its evident absence of purpose or coherent aims, worldwide.
<3> In the past, for example, everybody knew exactly what groups such as the Provisional IRA wanted. The IRA claimed responsibility for its attacks and never ceased to remind people as to what these were for. Irish republicans also understood terrorism to be merely a tactic set within a broader struggle to win hearts and minds politically, within their own communities and beyond. Terror, for them, was a means to achieving this wider political end. Today, we witness a form of terror that is simply an end in itself. It seeks to serve no greater purpose, and those perpetrating it are quite clearly not attempting to articulate any political arguments to win over or cohere a constituency.
<4> It is precisely this failure to spell out their purpose that has allowed all manner of pundits, commentators and self-appointed experts to fill the vacuum left behind by these nihilistic terrorists with their own pet prejudices about what it is all for. Foremost among these has been an assumed association with Islam. Of course, this is sometimes encouraged by the fact that the perpetrators claim this link too. But should we take their claims at face value?
<5> The American analyst Marc Sageman (2004), and others, have examined how it is that self-styled extremists today are not poor or poorly educated, and neither are they political or particularly pious. They are often born and educated in the West, or at least appear to have become more radical through spending time there. Few come from the parts of the world on whose behalf they claim to be acting. They would have trouble identifying places in the Middle East given a map. Some met in gymnasiums rather than mosques and were well-integrated into their local communities, if somewhat self-distancing from them. Above all, it would seem that far from being vulnerable individuals recruited through the inflammatory rhetoric of a radical mullah, it is they who go in search of a group to join, even rejecting those they see as not being serious enough.
<6> Two of the London bombers, Mohammad Sidique Khan and Shezad Tanweer, appear to have visited Pakistan prior to the 7 July 2005 bombings (HMSO 2006). But these visits, possibly to pick up tips and some kind of blessing, almost certainly came after their decision to act in the first place. In other words, they were already angry and knew what they wanted to do, and then sought some kind of credibility by going to Pakistan. They used the language of jihad and conflict with the West as a way to articulate their rage against a modern world from which they felt alienated. In other words, Islam, for them at least, was more a motif than a motive. It was the badge of honour they sought to wear (as do others) because it represents a rejection of the way the world is today.
<7> Few of these individuals need to have any Islamic background in the first place, although this can provide a ready-made narrative of victimhood and oppression, as well as an excuse for failure and rage, amongst some Muslims. One British academic describes Islam as akin to ’the new Rock Roll’ (Calcutt 2005, 2006). For an earlier generation, Rock’n’ Roll music was what distinguished the young from, and most annoyed, their parents. Perhaps a few years ago, announcing to your parents that you were gay had that effect. Today, it would be to convert to Islam. Similarly, it is quite clear, particularly in the West, that many young Muslim girls who now wear the headscarf, come from families where their mother never did. It is therefore more a statement about social distancing than anything else. Notably, an August 2010 edition of the BBC's flagship current affairs programme Newsnight, which asked just this question, featured a number of female respondents who, aside from a token nod to wearing headscarves on the basis of religious piety, largely described their reasons in terms of identity, personal choice, empowerment and not wishing to be judged or looked at in a sexual manner (one even mentioned the enjoyment of shocking others, including her friends, family and other Muslims). [2] This reflects a remarkable confusion whereby religious observance is trumped by Western identity politics and the language of feminism.
<8> Other similar confusions abound. At the trial of those in Britain caught as part of Operation Crevice in 2004, it transpired that the conspirators, who had acquired a large volume of ammonium nitrate fertilizer, were hoping to poison the beer of football fans, attack a large shopping mall and blow up what they described as "all those slags dancing around " in nightclubs [3]. This list of targets is not to be found in the Koran, but it does appear to reflect the exaggerated concerns of contemporary commentators and politicians as to the possible breakdown of our social fabric. They too caricature the behaviour of drunken football fans, suggest that we have become shallow ’shop-aholic’ consumers and, at the more conservative end of the spectrum, worry about the antics of young women in nightclubs.
<9> Perhaps the self-styled jihadists have been paying too much attention to mainstream Western commentators. Even Osama bin Laden advised White House officials in his writings to read the work of British journalist Robert Fisk rather than, as one might have supposed, the Koran. Bin Laden initially focussed his rage against Saudi Arabia, but after 9/11, when Western journalists presumed it was all about Palestine, he shifted his rantings to that. Later, he shifted his anger to Iraq and even the refusal of the US administration to sign up to the Kyoto Treaty on climate change (see Bin Laden 2005). This suggests that the ideas of bin Laden and other jihadi radicals are parasitic on debates that are happening in the West, between Western politicians, academics and commentators.
<10> Some of these even characterise that their own societies as hopelessly degenerate, decadent, corrupt, confused and spineless. It may be uncomfortable for some to recall, but when the Twin Towers went down in New York there were quite a few in the West who suggested that America ’deserved it’. The day after 9/11, in the supposedly liberal British broadsheet newspaper, The Guardian, journalist Seamus Milne penned an opinion piece about Americans entitled "They don’t know why they are hated". Maybe when Michael Moore’s book Stupid White Men became a bestseller on both sides of the Atlantic, selling over 300,000 copies in the UK in its first year of publication alone, a few bright minds in the security agencies should have woken up to the extent to which, as a society, we appear to hate ourselves.
<11> In other words, if one wants to find people who are anti-American, anti-Western, anti-modern, anti-progress or anti-science, one really does not need to go and look for them in the Middle East. There are plenty in London, some even teaching at universities there. This cultural self-loathing is almost palpable. Recent episodes include respected scientists [4] who have argued that influenza might save the planet from the plague that they describe as humanity, or an environmental columnist who describes flying as equivalent to child abuse, inasmuch as it damages the planet (Monbiot 1999). With friends like these, contemporary Western society hardly needs enemies. More importantly, this cultural confusion is likely to manifest itself in a myriad of ways. In an age marked by an absence of meaning and the decline of the old collectivities of family, religion and politics to belong to and derive identity from, it is not surprising that all of our young people, and some not so young too, are searching for something to provide purpose to their lives.
<12> Fortunately, only a few will find this in something as destructive as supposed jihadist terrorism. Most will find some positive experience to draw from through their work. Others, whose employment may be less stimulating, pursue all-manner of hobbies, some more obscure than others. At the more problematic end of the spectrum, a growing number of individuals define themselves through some, often self-determined illness identity, such as chronic fatigue, stress or a growing number of others. There are also some notable parallels between today "s nihilist extremist terrorists and mass high-school killers, in the US and elsewhere. Notably, the Finnish student Pekka-Eric Auvinen, who committed such an atrocity in 2007, was motivated by the writings of the "deep-green " Finnish ecologist Pentti Linkola, who thinks that there are too many people on earth (O’Neill 2007). Auvinen thought that he was just doing his bit to save the planet.
<13> The key point here is that instead of worrying about what it is that supposedly ’radicalises’ people, and then seeking to undermine their narrative, we would be far better off focusing on, and developing, a positive narrative of our own. Why are some people susceptible to the suggestions of supposedly radical Islam? What is it about these ideas that resonate with them? The answer does not lie in the power and magnetism of the ideas and individuals themselves, but rather in the absence of mainstream alternatives to believe in, that we should be providing them with.
<14> Many are looking for a system of belief, or some structure, rules and purpose, through which to imbue their lives with meaning. It is when we fail to provide this that these individuals look elsewhere, including in distorted versions of religious faiths. By worrying that they may become "extremists", we then also reveal our own inner moral bankruptcy, as it appears that we are saying "you can believe anything you like, just don't believe it too much". It is when we have lost faith in our own, secular project that those who are more passionate and quite often more articulate than ourselves, also appear more principled.
<15> The presumption that there is a necessary link between religion, radicalism and terrorism is just that – a presumption. The evidence is somewhat more vague. Notably, in Living Apart Together, a 2007 report published by the British think-tank Policy Exchange, which examined the experience of young Muslims in Britain, the authors were the first to ask ordinary young Britons the questions that so many had been asking of Muslims since 9/11. To the question "Do you admire organizations like Al-Qaeda that are prepared to fight against the West?", 7% of Muslims answered in the affirmative. This may seem a lot, but one should also be circumspect of, particularly young, people displaying a degree of bravado. More significantly however, when the same question was asked of the general population, 3% answered "yes " and, as the authors of the report point out, 3% of 60 million British people is a lot more than 7% of 2 million British Muslims.
<16> It is high-time we addressed some of these wider social elements to the radical nihilist equation. Extremism is usually just the extreme expression of quite mainstream ideas. Accordingly, if we truly seek to address this, it is to the mainstream that we ought to turn our attention and fight the kernel of such ideas expressed there, rather than hoping in vain that somehow, someone will help us identify extremists in advance. Treating Muslims differently, as many have done since 9/11, not only perpetuates a difference that need not be so significant, but it also continues to fail to address the need for us to develop a narrative of our own as to the kind of society we want to live in, with which we might finally be able to win the hearts and minds of the majority, who really matter, as well as of the few, who might otherwise look elsewhere for a system of meaning.
Endnotes
[1] The audio tape is available at: www.youtube.com/watch?v=QUObD-2ZbZc&feature=related. Despite the language used, it is possible to discern the two journalists asking the same question just after a minute in, and then Ullah making a brief response, subsequent to his earlier verbose grandstanding, and then asking someone else in the background the question. The episode was also reported in English at: www.businesswireindia.com/PressRelease.asp?b2mid=17627 [both accessed 10 November 2011].
[2] Newsnight, BBC2,23 August 2010. The full broadcast is available at: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/programmes/newsnight/8940334.stm, along with an edited transcript of some of the discussion at: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/programmes/newsnight/8929055.stm [both accessed 10 November 2011]. Countless other videos reflecting a similar agenda and confusions are available on YouTube.
[3] See 'All those slags dancing around - I'll blow them all up' (extracts from a conversation between Omar Khyam and Jawad Akbar about their plot to blow up the Ministry of Sound nightclub), Guardian, 25 July 2008, [accessed 10 November 2011].
[3] Speaking on the BBC Radio 3 programme Nightwaves (5 November 2008), for example, neuroscientist Dr Susan Blackmore announced that "For the planet's sake, I hope we have bird flu or some other thing that will reduce the population, because otherwise we’re doomed" (quoted in O ’Neill 2008). Blackmore was in discussion with John Gray, Professor of Contemporary European Thought at the London School of Economics, who describes humanity as a ’plague’(Gray 2002).
Works Cited
Bin Laden, Osama (2005) Messages to the World: The Statements of Osama bin Laden (ed. Bruce Lawrence, trans. James Howarth). London: Verso.
Calcutt, Andrew (2005) "The cultural heritage of suicide bombers", Spiked, 8 November,[accessed 10 November 2011].
Calcutt, Andrew (2006) "Hijab in the Hood: Religion, Pop Culture and Public Policy", Rising East Online, Issue 4, May, [accessed 10 November 2011].
Chaudhuri, Pramit Pal (2008) "Jihadi fighters have changed method of war", Evening Standard (London), 1 December,[accessed 10 November 2011].
Gray, John (2002) Straw Dogs: Thoughts on Humans and Other Animals. London: Granta.
HMSO (2006) Report of the Official Account of the Bombings in London on 7 July 2005 (HC 1087). Norwich: HMSO. Available at: www.fas.org/irp/world/uk/7-july-report.pdf [accessed 3 December 2011].
Monbiot, George (1999) "Meltdown", Guardian, 29 July. Available at: www.monbiot.com/1999/07/29/meltdown/ [accessed 10 November 2011].
O’Neill, Brendan (2007) "Rating Humanity", Guardian (Comment is Free), 14 November, [accessed 10 November 2011].
O’Neill, Brendan (2008) "Malthusian snobs pray for cure for overpopulation", The Week, 14 November, [accessed 10 November 2011].
Sageman, Marc (2004) Understanding Terror Networks. Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press.
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