Why we can't win the "war on terror"

Used in this neutral fashion, of course, the word "terrorist" has quite a different value than it does in the way it is customarily used in the American press, where it is a virtual synonym for "evildoer." Richardson rejects the widespread notion that "to understand or to explain terrorism is to sympathize with it." She makes it clear that she regards the intentional targeting of civilians as profoundly immoral. But she in effect brackets or suspends issues of morality, focusing first on other characteristics of terrorism. This astringent, detached perspective allows her to situate terrorism in a larger historical and social context without falling into facile judgments or generalizations.

In a wide-ranging historical tour, Richardson demonstrates that the 9/11 attacks, far from being unique, are merely the latest manifestation of an ancient phenomenon. The three earliest known terrorist groups were the Sicarii, or Zealots, of the classical age, the medieval Assassins and the medieval-to-modern-age Thugs. The Zealots, militant Jews determined to oust the Romans from Palestine, favored stabbing their victims in crowds, a tactic intended to spread panic. The Assassins were a fanatical Shiite sect that aimed to purify Islam and reconstitute it as a single entity. They also favored assassinations performed by stabbing, and their followers considered it shameful to escape -- much like today's shaheed, or "martyrs." So inexplicable was their suicidal behavior that observers thought they must be high on hashish -- hence their name, Assassins. The Thugs, a bizarre Hindu sect, do not fit Richardson's definition of terrorists, since their motives were purely religious, not in any way political, but she includes them anyway because they are commonly considered to be terrorists, and because they resemble modern terrorists in certain ways. The Thugs believed that they needed to supply the goddess Kali with human blood. Toward that end they carefully selected victims, whom they first befriended and then strangled with a silk tie in the most painful way possible. In longevity and number of victims, they are by far the most "successful" terrorist group in history. They operated in India for an incredible 600 years, during which time they are believed to have killed 500,000 people.

The French Revolution played a key role in the genesis of modern terror: Its hallmarks were "terror from above," i.e., terror imposed by the state, and the notions that killers are the guardians of the will of the people. It also marked the emergence of purely secular terrorist ideology. Previous terrorist movements had been driven in large part by religion, but after 1789 terrorism was to remain secular until the Iranian revolution in 1979. Russian theorist Mikhail Bakunin, who advocated terrorism by small elite groups as a means of bringing down the state, prefigured modern social revolutionary terrorists like the Red Brigades. Nineteenth century Irish nationalists and Russian anarchists also practiced terror, as did scattered anarchists in the U.S. and Europe, who succeeded in killing President McKinley, among other heads of state.

Some might argue that contemporary terrorism is different in kind because it is so much more bloodthirsty. Richardson acknowledges that 19th century terrorists killed very few people compared with their 20th century counterparts, but argues that the reason was the example set by the two world wars, in which states killed mass numbers of civilians for political reasons (for example, Dresden, the London Blitz, the siege of Leningrad, Hiroshima and Nagasaki). These mechanized slaughters helped obliterate the distinction between combatants and noncombatants. "The greater brutality of terrorists reflected a greater brutality in political life generally." It is not that terrorists got more evil -- the world did.

But though terrorism is as old as the hills and has been practiced by many cultures and religions and for many different reasons, its sheer awfulness leaves it mysterious. What kind of a person would deliberately kill innocent men, women and children, for political goals that are often virtually unattainable? Aren't they insane, or simply evil, on the face of it?

The answer is no. Richardson answers that three things are required to create a terrorist: "a disaffected individual, an enabling group, and a legitimizing ideology." Some of the 9/11 terrorists were educated, middle-class Muslims who had grown up in Europe and felt profoundly alienated from the societies in which they lived. They met other individuals in the same boat, some of whom had links to global jihadist movements -- the "enabling group." (Psychiatrist and former Foreign Service officer Marc Sageman has made a close study of these relationships, which he argues are crucial to global jihad, in his book "Understanding Terror Networks.") And, of course, the "legitimizing ideology" was an extreme version of Salafi Islam.

Psychologically, terrorists see the world in black-and-white terms, identify with the sufferings of others and desire revenge. But they are not, except in rare cases, mentally ill. (Richardson points out that most terrorist groups reject obviously disturbed individuals, because they are not worthy to carry out acts that terrorists see as driven by a higher moral purpose.) They are often motivated by perceived humiliation. Practically, they seek what Richardson calls the "Three Rs: Revenge, Renown and Reaction."

Having defined terrorism, given a history of it and established that terrorists are quite "normal" -- even exceptionally idealistic -- in their psychology and goals, Richardson then turns to the most important and provocative part of her book: a powerful critique of America's reaction to 9/11. She argues that the 9/11 attacks did not change the world -- "rather it was our reaction to September 11 that changed the world." And not for the better.

Richardson points out that the terrorist attacks were spectacularly successful, but they hardly emerged out of a void. Muslim rage, driven by U.S. policies ranging from coziness with autocratic Arab regimes to support for Israel, as well as by socioreligious frustrations that U.S. policies had nothing to do with, had been building for years. Americans thought the attacks came out of the blue because we are insular, are ill-educated about the world in general and the Middle East in particular, and -- with that touching, maddening innocence and assumption of national superiority that have bemused observers from Henry James to Graham Greene -- were unable to conceive why others might hold legitimate grievances against us.

Rather than try to educate Americans -- teaching them, for example, that superpowers throughout history have been hated, or about the complexities of our Middle East policies -- the Bush administration "retreated to simplistic formulas of good and evil." By so doing, Richardson argues, it squandered a crucial opportunity to "educate the American public to the realities of terrorism and to the implication of the United States' global preeminence." (She does not point out that the likelihood of the Bush administration, which regards U.S. hegemony as given by divine fiat, doing this is somewhere between zero and none.)

As for our reaction, its effects have been little short of catastrophic. By invading Iraq, we created the very terrorist boogeyman we feared. And by declaring an unwinnable "war on terror," we escalated the conflict unnecessarily, elevated Osama bin Laden and al-Qaida to a bad eminence they did not deserve, and condemned ourselves to certain defeat. As Richardson points out, all a terrorist has to do is set off one bomb somewhere to make us "lose" the war on terrorism. This is making things much too easy for them.

Next page: Would talking to al-Qaida really help anything?