Terrorism and Societies

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TERRORISM AND SOCIETIES

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Terrorism and Societies

STEPHEN VERTIGANS Robert Gordon University, UK

© Stephen Vertigans 2008 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the publisher. Stephen Vertigans has asserted his moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work. Published by Ashgate Publishing Limited Gower House Croft Road Aldershot Hampshire GU11 3HR England

Ashgate Publishing Company Suite 420 101 Cherry Street Burlington, VT 05401-4405 USA

Ashgate website: http://www.ashgate.com British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Vertigans, Stephen Terrorism and societies. - (Applied legal philosophy) 1. Terrorism - History 2. Terrorism - Social aspects 3. Terrorism - Religious aspects - Islam I. Title 303.6'35 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Vertigans, Stephen. Terrorism and societies / by Stephen Vertigans. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-0-7546-7328-6 (alk. paper) 1. Terrorism--History. 2. Terrorism--Social aspects. 3. Terrorism--Religious aspects-Islam. I. Title. HV6431.V47 2008 303.6'25--dc22 2007046429 ISBN 978-0-7546-7328-6

Printed and bound in Great Britain by MPG Books Ltd, Bodmin, Cornwall.

Contents Acknowledgements

vii

1

Terrorism Yesterday and Today: An Introduction

2

National ‘Islamic’ Terrorism: Groups in the Palestinian Territories

17

3

International ‘Islamic’ Terrorism: Al-Qa’ida and Related Groups

45

4

Republican and Loyalist Terrorism in Northern Ireland

71

5

‘Red’ Urban Terrorism: Experiences in Italy, Germany and Japan

99

6

From Left to Right: Terrorism within America from the 1960s to Today 125

7

Conclusion: Terrorism Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow

Glossary Bibliography Index

1

151

169 173 195


Acknowledgements There are a number of people I would like to thank for their contributions to this book. Pat Lauderdale was instrumental in the conception of the research and has provided support at important subsequent stages. It has been a pleasure working with Ashgate Publishing Company especially Carolyn Court, Kirstin Howgate and Margaret Younger who have provided refreshing enthusiasm and timely communications. The case studies and concluding thoughts have evolved over time and I am grateful to all those who have contributed to the process. I am particularly appreciative of the comments raised by participants at a range of different conferences and university seminars. Students who have provided me with an audience during my lectures on terrorism and whose discussions helped to refine my analysis have also made important contributions. Similarly, I would like to thank my father, Martin Vertigans, and offer this book as limited evidence that our occasional late night discussions can have fruitful outcomes. Phil Sutton, Val Vertigans and Chris Yuill have all provided insightful comments on parts of the text and I am grateful for their efforts. Obviously any mistakes within the text are mine, as are any royalties. At RGU, I have been assisted by the sympathetic management of Joyce Lishman and the flexibility of Julian Bell. Earlier versions of chapters 2 and 6 appeared respectively as ‘Social Barriers to Peace: Socialisation Processes in the Radicalisation of the Palestinian Struggle’, Sociological Research Online, 9(2) and ‘Beyond the Fringe? Radicalisation within the American Far-Right’, Totalitarian Movements and Political Religions, 8 (3-4). Finally, I want to thank Val, Maya and Isabel who generally, if not always collectively, accept my absences and distractions with good grace. This book is an inadequate return for their support, understanding and humour.


Chapter 1

Terrorism Yesterday and Today: An Introduction Introduction: Terrorism Today Since 8.43am on 11 September 2001, when the first plane hit the North Tower of the World Trade Centre in New York, impressions of terrorism across the world have been dominated by ‘Islamic’ terrorism.1 The nature of this and subsequent attacks in places like Bali, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Spain and England have contributed to groups associated with al-Qa’ida2 dominating how people think about terrorism. A plethora of research into the attacks, and government and public reactions, has been published as part of the continuous expansion of materials within the study of terrorism reported by Rapoport in 1988.3 The concentration on Islamic terrorism is perhaps understandable within the West whose citizens could now be subjected to attack anywhere in the world by transnational militants. That these fears are often grossly inflated does little to dampen anxieties. Focusing on contemporary transnational groups has also been accompanied by a tendency to examine the phenomena in isolation. Ring-fencing al-Qa’ida and associated groups is a process that is common within the study of terrorism. Consequently, with some notable exceptions,4 there 1 There is considerable debate over the extent to which the attacks can legitimately be described as Islamic because the views and actions of the perpetrators are considered to be against religious teachings. However, the famous W.I. Thomas (1928) adage is adopted that if people think something is real then it is real in its consequences. From this perspective, if the attackers think they are Muslims, then it is not the responsibility of social scientists to prove otherwise. 2 ‘Groups associated with al-Qa’ida’ is referring to collections of people who are either part of al-Qa’ida or belong to groups that are part of a loose association who share some similar ideological interpretations, aims and tactics. 3 Although as Alexander (2002) remarks with respect to the analysis of al-Qa’idarelated groups, and which could equally apply to the majority of publications over the last 40 years, this expansion of quantity has not been accompanied by an improvement in quality. Levels of knowledge and understanding remain underdeveloped. 4 For example, Hoffman (1998) and Laqueur (2001a) provide an anatomy of historical and contemporary trends in terrorism. Della Porta (1995), MacDonald (1991), Taylor (1998, 2000) and Varon (2004) undertake research into ‘red’ urban terrorism in Germany and Italy, a range of female terrorists, republican and loyalist terrorism in Northern Ireland and the American Weather Underground and German Red Army Faction respectively. Juergensmeyer (2003a) and Stern (2003) have studied religious groups that have used terror methods. Finally, some studies examine the use of suicide terror by different groups, for example, Reuter (2004) and Bloom (2005).

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has been limited comparative analysis undertaken between groups, and important similarities and differences have been underdeveloped and their significance not fully realised. When seeking to understand the societies and social processes that contribute to people joining different terror groups in different contexts, then there is a glaring lack of juxtaposition. This book intends, somewhat tentatively, to begin the process of filling the comparative void. As Rapoport’s comments indicate, and the recent expansion of publications emphasises, to produce a definitive comparative study of terrorism would be a massively ambitious project. By comparison, this book is more modest in its aims. Certain prominent terror groups associated with ‘Red’ (Leninist–Maoist–Marxist interpretations), nationalist, racialist and far right, religious and religio-national groups have been selected as case studies. Histories of radicalism within societies, and broader movements, from which the groups emerged, their discourses, contexts in which ideologies were developed and socialisation processes and experiences that contributed to the radical transformation of individuals are discussed and compared. It is hoped that this will identify commonalities and distinctions between terror groups and in particular the processes and interactions with societies that contributed to people becoming members. By doing so levels of knowledge and understanding should be improved about routes into terrorism and the societies in which they occur. To help achieve these aims, the subject matter that is to be discussed needs to be established. In other words, what exactly is terrorism? Defining Terrorism All studies of terrorism are potentially problematic and this one is no different. It is a subject that is notoriously emotive and value-laden, particularly after September 2001. Even to find agreement on what terrorism actually means, how it differs from other forms of violence, whether non-violent members or people who use the threat of violence should be included, or understanding what attacks are trying to achieve, has proved impossible, to date. Consequently various studies describe different aspects of behaviour and discourse. Schmid’s (1984) study of over 100 definitions exemplifies this diversity. He concluded that none of those examined were likely to be broadly acceptable to the multitude of interested parties. And of course this fluidity and amorphousness makes comparative analysis even more difficult, particularly as Oliverio and Lauderdale (2005: 2) point out, ‘terrorism is in the process of being negotiated and renegotiated within the changing boundaries of territories, nations and states’. Terrorism, both as a concept and form of political action, is not static. Consequently definitions of terrorism tend to give an indication both of the definers’ underlying values and historical location and reflect perceptions and experiences of power and domination. Defining terrorism is therefore based upon subjective judgement about the legitimacy of certain actions and the extent to which they are justified. Influences include the extent that the interpreter is a victim, witness, distanced observer or seeks to prevent attacks. The most contentious debate concerns the extent to which the term is applied to ‘violence from below’ as part of an asymmetrical conflict, or is extended to incorporate government actions against


3

targeted populations under the cover of warfare or counter-terrorism. Oliverio (1998) details how governments seek to use their powers to define and impose moral boundaries around the concept. These definitions emphasise non-nationstate actions, thereby excluding government activities which are categorised as the morally superior warfare or counter-terrorism. To help develop greater agreement over definitions, Schmid (1993) suggests terrorism is described according to the methods used, which restricts opportunities to justify, condemn or legitimise through moral judgement or political discourse. Within this book, terrorism is defined as the targeted and intentional use of violence for political purposes. The definition can be interpreted to include the actions of both activists and governments. This book focuses upon non-governmental actions, not as a result of perceiving government actions differently, but as a pragmatic decision based upon the much greater availability of information about non-state acts of terrorism. It is acknowledged that much greater empirical investigation is required into processes through which members of the armed forces are socialised to commit, organise or order similar acts. Categorising individuals involved in acts of terrorism is equally problematic. Many groups implement processes in order to attain political, economic or social change with a vast array of practices, and maybe are embedded within communities or have established their own centres. For example, Aum Supreme Truth in Japan was engaged at different stages in proselytising, commune-building, business enterprises, spiritual enlightenment, democratic elections, self-help and the release of the chemical nerve agent sarin. Terrorism is therefore only one component of group activities and some individuals are engaged in both violent and peaceful activities.5 Similarly many individuals only partake in violence-related activities, whether it is planning, coordinating or embarking on attacks, for a minority of their time, combining their political commitment with other responsibilities. For instance, many members of terror groups are engaged in peaceful roles or periods of inaction with groups, family, employment, friends, and so on. Consequently, to label such people ‘terrorist’ as the determining characteristic of their identities negates other aspects of their consciousness. Individuals become isolated from militant social groupings and collective ideologies. And such an approach fails to address the personable characteristics frequently applied to even the most notorious of convicted ‘terrorists’.6 In other words, if people who plan or commit acts of terrorism, and have the ability to inspire others, are to be fully understood, there is a need to move beyond the association of people with despicable characteristics and inherent evil. Instead individuals need to be established within broader social processes and relationships. And as Horgan (2005: 22) explains, it is more useful if definitions of terrorism focus upon the methods, as opposed to thinking that the use of terrorism necessarily reflects 5 In the case of the Aum Supreme Truth cult, the overwhelming majority of members had no knowledge about terror activities and were only engaged in peaceful behaviour. 6 For example, Timothy McVeigh has been described as personable and easy-going both by people who knew him before he blew up the federal building in Oklahoma and after his subsequent arrest (Michel and Herbeck, 2001; Serrano, 1998). The four bombers behind the 7 July 2005 London bombings were similarly described as ‘loving’, ‘very kind’, ‘nice lad’ and ‘good man’. As individuals they were considered ‘normal’ (BBC, 2005a).

4


something (perhaps something ‘special’) that one ‘is’. Consequently, rather than use the term ‘terrorist’, the book will refer to variations of people ‘becoming engaged and/or involved in doing terrorism’ (ibid: 81) or being members of terror groups. In this book, a description is adopted that seeks to provide a balanced and detached approach. Of course, complete objectivity is impossible. At the very least the parameters of the definition imply certain values and impressions. It is acknowledged that these interpretations will not be universally accepted, but while readers may disagree with the boundaries being drawn, they will hopefully be able to understand the application of the term and be clear about the behaviour that is being described. During the discussion about the case studies, the application of the concept of terrorism will further help to clarify the constitution of this form of political violence. Challenging Stereotypes Analysis of terrorism is often heavily influenced by the acts committed and in particular the outcomes. Horgan (2005: 48) points out that ‘by focussing on … the outcome of terrorist events, we achieve a distorted view of both the terrorist and the process of terrorism more broadly’. Attacks against citizens, in particular, tend, as Taylor and Quayle (1994) remark, to offend popular senses of fairness and justice that make it difficult to examine the phenomena with objectivity and rationality. Seemingly indiscriminate bombings in particular challenge perceptions of ‘civilised behaviour’ and result in the perpetrators being considered to be fundamentally different in ways that make it easier for broader populations to understand the actions. Consequently, there has been a plethora of studies which emphasise abnormalities and/or seek to compartmentalise individuals committing the attacks within separate categories from the normative mass of people. Academic and political support for single routes into terrorism or typical personalities is still prominent. Many studies remain strongly influenced by popular perceptions associated with poverty, stunted employment prospects and mental instability, but as the following discussion highlights, these are deeply problematic. Within psychological studies, various attempts7 to identify a ‘terrorist’ personality have claimed to find generic characteristics. Numerous other studies have shown that such distinguishing features do not exist because of the diversity both in the routes into terrorism and in the types of people involved (Reich, 1998). Within psychology and psychiatry, explanations are popular that orientate around cognitive, affective and impulse controls and more explicitly pathological disorders and paranoia.8 These opinions have permeated mainstream terrorism studies. Laqueur (2001b: 30) exemplifies the perceived importance of mental illness when arguing that 7 Researchers examining core personality characteristics include Akhtar (1999), Lanceley (1981), Pearlstein (1991), Post (1998), Russell and Miller (1977), Sullwold (1981) and Volkan (1997). 8 Corrado (1981), for example, argues that psychopathy is the most common characteristic associated with terrorists. Both Cooper (1977) and Pearce (1977) have dismissed ‘terrorists’ as psychopaths. Other studies include Harvey (2002), Rosenberger (2003) and Salib (2003).


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‘madness, especially paranoia, plays a role in contemporary terrorism … Madness plays an important role, even if many are reluctant to acknowledge it’. Todd (2003: 3) exemplifies common perceptions when describing the 11 September attackers as ‘mentally disturbed’. However, such statements lack substantive evidence. For example, Silke (2003) points out that researchers like Cooper (1977) and Lasch (1979), who had claimed to have identified psychological abnormalities within the Red Army Faction and Canadian Front de Libération du Québec respectively, had not met the people they were diagnosing. By comparison, Rasch (1979) and Morf (1970) interviewed members within the respective groups and failed to find any personality disorders. These findings are replicated across interviews, discussed in the following chapters, with members of republican, loyalist, militias and racialists, ‘reds’, religio-nationalists and religious groups who have been convicted of terror offences, or their former neighbours, friends and family members. Certainly, people who belong to groups are often inclined to think of themselves as standard citizens. Colvard’s (2002: 2) analysis of research draws similar conclusions: ‘People who are willing to use violence in the service of a political idea are usually rather ordinary human beings … not devils or psychopaths but people who may base their actions on morality, commitment, and group loyalty, which in other circumstances we would consider admirable.’ As one convicted republican told Taylor (2000: 8), ‘an IRA man’s normal just like everyone else’. And in response to Taylor’s follow-up question, that ‘normal’ people did not kill other people, he replied that was because they did not live in Northern Ireland (ibid). The behaviour and beliefs of the group members therefore have to be considered within the contexts in which they develop. Similarly, studies9 into suicide/martyrdom attackers who most challenge Western perceptions of violence, life and individualism, have found little evidence of psychological coercion or abnormality. Instead, Hassan (2001) remarked on the normality of the individuals carrying out attacks and reflected Crenshaw’s (2003a) observation, first made 20 years previously, that normality is the most notable common characteristic of individuals within terror groups. At a pragmatic level, individuals with mental illness or discernible abnormalities would not make effective, reliable, organised perpetrators of violence or militant recruiters. During interviews with loyalist paramilitaries in Northern Ireland, one respondent pointed out that psychopaths would ‘stand out like a sore thumb and everyone would know them’ (Taylor and Quayle, 1994: 107). If terror organisations are to be successful, they need members who can operate in highly pressurised environments, can think logically, communicate coherently and operate clandestinely. Consequently they would not want to recruit unreliable, undisciplined people with or without mental illnesses. The lengthy recruitment processes of many groups would result in the nonselection of such individuals. This is not to claim that terrorism is normal. It is not, although the extent to which it is considered abnormal will depend on the regularity of attacks, depth of popular support and perceived risk of injury or death. Nor is it being argued that people within terror groups are not subjected to psychological pressures. Clearly the roles involve considerable responsibilities and dangers, and often require clandestine lifestyles that limit opportunities to lead ‘normal’ lives. 9

For example, Bloom (2005), Hassan (2001), Reuter (2004), Victor (2004).

6


Certainly membership can have a detrimental impact on psychological well-being, particularly in relation to the violence, that makes it more difficult to understand terrorism and the people who commit the attacks. Horgan (2005: 52) argues that there has been a tendency to ignore ‘the processes whereby members become brutalized and more committed as a result of membership and increased psychological commitment to the group’. Involvement is therefore accompanied by potential psychological difficulties and dilemmas, but this is very different from arguing that people who join are in some ways psychologically deviant. Nor are the processes of psychological confrontation and re-adjustment restricted to group membership. For example, in Northern Ireland it is becoming increasingly apparent that many people who leave groups can experience considerable identity problems without the social relations and frames of justificatory reference associated with their previous activities. Routes into terrorism are often considered to be the outcome of brainwashing. Hudson (1999: 35) reflects a popular perception when he argues that terror groups ‘attempt to brainwash individual members with their particular ideology’. At present, this is noticeable within analysis of Islamic terrorism where the role of religious schools, medressas, has been considered instrumental in processes of radicalisation. For example, Sofsky (2002: 181) has argued that in these institutions brains are ‘washed empty and then refilled with the truisms of the secret order’. Kepel (2004b: 105) argues that , in some instances, al-Qa’ida is directly involved, claiming that the resolve of the September 2001 attackers could be attributed to the effectiveness of the organisation’s brainwashing methods. However, Sageman (2004) has addressed the contemporary usage of the concept. He points out that the term is a value judgement used to describe how individuals join a singularly unappealing organisation. In other words, many people who cannot understand the appeal of such groups assume that members must have been forcibly indoctrinated. Yet the available research provides little evidence that individuals had been coerced into joining. This type of single explanation ‘obscures the fact that the paths that lead up to them, and the indoctrination of the attackers are quite different in each case’ (Reuter, 2004: 9). This is not to say that some people have not been coerced, but the lack of evidence seems to suggest that they are, at most, a small minority. It is not even feasible to suggest that peoples’ processes of radicalisation are the inevitable outcome of dominant socialising agents. As Connolly and Healy (2003: 50) explain with respect to children’s views in Northern Ireland: the sectarian attitudes that can be found to be emerging at this age [7 to 8] do not simply reflect the influence of parents and older siblings … the children are not just uncritically repeating what they have been told by others but are actively involved in constructing an understanding that can help them comprehend what is going on around them.

In other words, the children’s interpretations are heavily influenced by their own experiences of life in their respective communities and exposure to the ‘other’. Similarly, older individuals consciously select messages, symbols, ideologies and ways of behaving which they consider the most appropriate for them from a range


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of alternatives. For a minority of people, these values and practices become part of militant consciousness. Reductionism can also be found within political and sociological explanations. For example, materialist explanations are frequently applied across the multifarious militant groups, with poverty widely considered to be a causal factor. Poverty has been strongly linked with terrorism, most recently within the American government’s dual approach to tackling terrorism. Alongside the military campaign, the US Department of State’s American National Strategy for Combating Terrorism (2003: 22) aims to ‘diminish the underlying conditions that terrorists seek to exploit’ and has become widely associated with addressing poverty. The central problem of this laudable aim is that there is only limited evidence of involvement within terror activity of people from poverty-stricken backgrounds. Explanations that focus upon poverty are only partially correct and are as flawed as theories that seek to explain wider protest movements and the use of collective violence using the same crude causal analysis (Tarrow, 1989). As Tilly (2004: 12) remarked, in respect to the work of Stern, ‘no single set of cause-effect propositions can explain terrorism as a whole’. Consequently, the ‘War on Poverty’ can only have at best a limited impact on terrorism, because the multiple other reasons why people commit acts of political violence are not being addressed. At a basic level, people living in conditions of abject poverty concentrate their resources on daily survival and have neither the time, contacts nor frequently the required capabilities to join terror groups. Like other organisations operating within complicated environments and complex networks that rely on technical, technological, communicative and organisational skills, logistical planning and strategic thinking, terror groups also prefer to recruit well-educated, resourceful people who can use their initiative and integrate within different settings. Materialism does feature within terror groups’ discourse but generally people living in poverty are not actively engaged. Perhaps surprisingly, it is indigenous terror groups across the West and Japan that are most associated with campaigns to redress economic inequalities and injustice, attacking their wealthy societies. Numerous references can be found to poverty within ideological declarations, most notably from the ‘red’ organisations, but the rallying calls are frequently raised by well-educated members of the middle classes. Other studies10 have extended the argument beyond absolute poverty within the ‘relative deprivation’ and ‘frustration–aggression’ theses. Within these approaches, individuals are attracted by militant groups because their ambitions are frustrated by limited prospects or their own capabilities. Many react according to the ‘frustration–aggression’ thesis aggressively. This line of argument continues to be popular and can be found within contemporary analysis of resurgent Islam generally and ‘Islamic’ terrorism in particular.11 However, as with other generic explanations, this thesis fails to account for variations within the militant groups. Bjørgo (2005: 4) explains that 10 Examples include Davies (1969), Friedland (1992), Gurr (1970), Heitmeyer (2005) and Kampf (1990). 11 Ayubi (1991), Hudson (1999), Mehmet (1990), Post (2005) and Roy (1994) provide examples of this approach.

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‘relative deprivation had differing impacts on the well-educated, upper-middle class leaders and on the less well-educated, lower-class foot soldiers’. Support for terror attacks has also been shown not to be inevitably associated with the lower classes. For example, Krueger and Malecková (2003b) found that agreement for the use of terrorism against Israeli targets was highest amongst Palestinian students, farmers and professionals, and lower amongst the unemployed. And as they comment with regard to Hudson’s (1999) claim that members of groups in less developed countries are recruited largely from the poor, this is becoming increasingly questionable, even at the level of ‘foot soldiers’. Although it is possible to argue that relative deprivation has impacted upon some middle class members who have been unable to achieve their career ambitions, many people who have committed acts of terrorism were radicalised before they actively sought employment or became successful lawyers, doctors, managers, teachers, lecturers, entrepreneurs and so on. Throughout the different case studies, evidence will be provided that challenges the stereotypes. Instead, it shall be argued that people who undertake terror activities rarely show signs of mental illness, have little direct experience of poverty and are often from relatively wealthy and/or educated backgrounds. For Hoffman (1998), many articulate and thoughtful individuals have reluctantly entered terrorism only after lengthy analysis and consideration. The route into violence is usually preceded by the perceived exhaustion of other processes of political protest by the individual, group or their predecessors. In other words, ‘terror is not the outflow of a uniform mentality but a strategy employed by a wide array of actors whose motives, means, and organization vary greatly’ (Tilly, 2005: 24). Consequently this book focuses upon societies and routes into terrorism that are multi-layered processes based around discourse, experiences, activities, relationships, structures, events and communication. These processes result in individuals sharing aspects of collective consciousness within groups but not personality types. The Terrorism Framework Three stages within the processes of terror activity can be discerned (Horgan, 2005). The first stage relates to the psychological and social processes through which people join terror groups. This is followed by membership of the group and the activities they undertake. Lastly, most members will at some stage leave the group or the organisation will disband. The main focus of this book is upon the first stage, although aspects of membership are explored. All three stages require greater investigation. By concentrating upon the processes, circumstances and influences behind people becoming part of these organisations, this book is driven to understand how and why this happens. This will require aspects of, and routes into, terror groups to be identified, similarities and differences to be highlighted and their significance explored. Because the selected groups represent a number of types of terrorism (see below), a range of cross-cutting dichotomies is explored: secular


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and religious; national and transnational; left and right wing; and pro-state and antistate.12 A number of common questions are raised towards this end: • • • • • • • • •

Which ideologies do terror groups hold? How do these ideologies conflict with mainstream values? Why do people want to join terror groups? What is it about societies and social contexts that contribute towards peoples’ radicalisation? How important is history in the formation and longevity of terror groups? Are there any particular events or triggers that lead to people joining terror groups? Does radicalisation occur instantaneously or is it a gradual process? Which socialising agents are contributing to the internalisation processes that are resulting in individuals’ consciousness shifting towards terrorism? Are the processes through which people become involved in religious terror groups similar to those for secular groups? Why do the majority of people, who share a number of experiences with those who commit acts of terrorism, not become part of the same groups?

To answer these questions a multi-dimensional approach to terrorism is adopted. Particular interest is placed upon the ideologies of the relevant groups in order to understand their discourses and in particular what they are trying to change and achieve, and why. Militant ideologies are important because they seek to rationalise behaviour, appeal to potential members and, as Melucci (1990: 6) comments, they are ‘one of the main tools which can be used to guarantee integration’ within groups. Rival ideologies are also important in the potential challenge to the ‘other’ discourse or conversely the extent to which more consensual aims and ambitions have been delegitimised through political, economic and cultural changes. Developing upon this aspect, it is also important to gain more information about levels of motivation that lead to people joining groups and committing acts of terrorism, asking why people join, what inspires them at individual and/or social levels to want to bring about change or what attracts them to the ideology or group. There is therefore an interplay between group ideology and individual consciousness which develops through the social interaction between discourse and/or members and potential new recruits; interplays that are embedded within social contexts. Across historical and contemporary social contexts, it will be argued that groups’ discourse and strategies are influenced by developments within wider settings. For example, the potentialities provided by globalisation and decisions to belong to, and depart from, terror organisations are heavily influenced by the local, national or international context that people experience, witness or are notified about, and 12 Because of the criteria for selecting the terror groups, lone bombers like the Unabomber, Theodore John (Ted) Kaczynski, or single issue groups like those associated with the pro-life movement in America are not included. The pro-life groups have been extremely important but are not included because of limitations in the range of their discourse and the current diminution of their violent potential as a consequence of growing political support for their aims.

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the discrepancies they perceive between realities and discourse. The local setting is also instrumental in deciding strategies, gauging the extent of public support and assessing the impact of actions upon that support. As Pedahzur (2004) remarks with respect to people who commit suicidal acts of terrorism or acts of martyrdom, but which applies to all those willing to undertake violent political attacks, individual feelings and experiences cannot be examined in isolation from the broader context. Consequently, it is essential to understand what it is about the social environments and in some instances the impact of globalisation that causes an ‘incompatibility problem’ (Vertigans, 2003) with national and transnational ideologies. Conflict can ensue that crucially impacts upon individuals and provides the reference framework for trigger experiences or events that can result in radicalisation. For example, the civil rights movement in the United States inspired movements in other countries while the American war in Vietnam created considerable anger across the United States and other parts of the world. When these two influences were experienced in certain localised conditions in Germany, Italy and Japan, they contributed towards the emergence of ‘red’ terrorism. Finally, if people are to become aware of some contextual problems, internalise ideologies and their consciousness shifts to militancy, then they have to be informed about disputes, controversial events, policies and other possibilities. This happens through socialisation and often occurs gradually, with individuals exposed to values and practices within communities in the case of many nationalist terror groups like the IRA, ETA and Hamas, and through friends in the case of groups like the Japanese Red Army, Red Brigades in Italy, the al-Qa’ida allegiances and some racialists in America. Particular attention is placed upon the roles of the family, peers, media and education. Family members include parents, siblings and extended relations like grandparents and cousins. These are relationships that have traditionally been the most influential in the development of individual consciousness, transmitting basic skills, intergenerational loyalties, norms and values from an early age. However, that role has gradually diminished and while it remains prominent within nationalist struggles, other agents are becoming more influential across different contexts. By comparison, the significance of the media13 as a socialising agent is considered to have increased dramatically over recent generations. The media’s relationship with terrorism is much debated, with media organisations, governments and terror groups wanting to achieve different, often conflicting, objectives through communications. It can be seen as the focal point for a communicative battleground because, as Ben-Yehuda (2005: 61) remarks, opposing sides ‘use the media as a main arena to clash and clarify their moral boundaries’. And as Oliverio (1998) notes, the media is also a medium through which history is construed and produced. Taylor (1988) observes that the nature of terrorism often prevents groups from consensual political participation, although Hamas’ electoral success highlights that engagement is possible within broadly supportive communities. Most groups, however, have to find alternative methods of communicating with supporters and potential members. 13 Particular attention is placed upon the roles of television, radio, the Internet, books, journals and ideological publications.


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Informal social networks, especially through peer relations (see below) provide this function, as does the media on a much larger scale. Jenkins (1975: 16) has outlined how ‘terrorist attacks are often carefully choreographed to attract the attention of the electronic media and the international press’. A leading figure of the Algerian anti-colonial group, FLN, Ramdane Abane, exemplified this when explaining the reasoning behind urban terrorism: ‘Is it preferable for our cause to kill ten enemies in an oued [dry river bed] of Telergma when no one will talk about it or a single man in Algiers which will be noted the next day by the American press?’14 By committing high profile attacks, groups within liberal democratic societies with a free press are guaranteed media coverage that informs people about the acts committed and their immediate impact. And across the world, the Internet has greatly enhanced access to information, in even the most authoritarian nation-states. Reportage is likely to be portrayed negatively by mainstream media outlets. But groups have multi-layered hopes that the images will offset damaging publicity. Attacks are often designed to promote capabilities, raise awareness of the issues they are seeking to address, mobilise people attracted by their potential and extend the fear of attack far beyond those people who directly experienced or are likely to be exposed to acts of terrorism. As Hoffman (1998) notes, directing acts of terrorism towards a wider audience than those directly affected is not unique to this era. For example, early terror groups like the Jewish Zealots and Muslim Assassins committed attacks that were designed to have repercussions beyond the immediate victims. But the transformation in mass communications over the last 200 years has enabled the news to become instantly accessible to a global audience. The impact of events like the 1972 Munich Olympics and 2004 Beslan school hostage crises, the kidnapping of the former Italian Prime Minister Aldo Moro in 1978, bombs in Lebanon during the 1980s and plane hijackings in America in September 2001 have been given added significance by the media and attracted vast audiences. Viewers have suffered bouts of anxiety, and Sun Tzu’s15 famous proverb, to ‘Kill one, frighten 10,000’, can now be multiplied by millions. It is also important to acknowledge that the media contributes indirectly to the appeal of militant groups and processes of radicalisation. Through reporting events, problems and crises, the media, aided by processes of globalisation, have increased the availability of information in other parts of the world and contributed to more people having access to methods of communication. The following case studies indicate that for some people these images and narratives can contribute to the delegitimisation of consensual ideologies and the legitimisation of militant discourse. And the development of the Internet, allied to more traditional methods of media publications, has provided contemporary militant groups like those associated with al-Qa’ida and racialism in America with new opportunities to communicate stories and often graphic pictures to audiences through processes that are difficult to censor. Educational institutions, both state-operated and privately owned, have recently been attributed with considerable importance, particularly within explanations for 14 The quote is reported in Hoffman (1998: 61). 15 Sun Tzu was a Chinese military strategist who lived 2500 years ago.

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Islamic militancy (discussed earlier).16 However, as the case studies show, there is a danger that the role of education has been exaggerated. Greater attention within the book is placed upon peer groups who provide opportunities to share ideas and experiences, to develop relationships and frequently provide access to a collective identity. There is a generational perspective that unites those involved and distances them from individuals who are both older and younger. Peer groups are also increasingly important to younger adults across the world, especially in times of conflict and transition. During these periods, Bandura (1969) argues, parental values, attitudes and behaviour are often undermined, and because contemporary societies are in a perpetual state of flux, it can be argued that change is the only constant. Consequently, the significance of peers is an integral part of modern social relationships. Interactions within groups can encourage conformity and lead to popular decisions to join clubs, societies, cults and even terror organisations. Peers can be influential within processes of radicalisation because of the different dynamics that form between individuals of similar ages. In order to collate sufficient material for this multi-faceted approach, a range of sources are used including historical documentation, academic research (including interviews), government reports, court transcripts, media reports, group websites and publications, and auto/biographies of members. Weinberg and Eubank (1987) identify, with respect to accounts of violence in Italy and which applies generally to studies of terrorism, that there is a tendency to concentrate on short-term fluctuations that occurred around the time of the attacks. Consequently the significance of longer term trends, processes and the wider cycles of protest of which terrorism is a part (della Porta and Tarrow, 1986) are overlooked: understanding and explanation of the phenomena is only partially achieved. Only by examining longer term local and global processes, like the heritage of political violence, the inability to effect change through peaceful political mechanisms and the failure of other types of conventional violence such as warfare by Arab states against Israel, can the genesis of the groups be established and the reasons behind individual contemporary radicalisation understood. History is also important for the groups in two fundamental ways. One set of groups stress their continuity with traditions, symbols, victories and narratives from the past, for example, American far right groups, Northern Irish republican and loyalist paramilitaries, militant Muslims. By comparison, the second category seek to break with the ‘dark side’ of the past, like the ‘red’ urban groups from Germany, Italy and Japan, and their fear of authoritarian structures and the return of fascism. Focusing on preceding social, economic, political and cultural relations should not, however, be construed as historical determinism. Social processes and activities in which the groups and individuals are immersed are also central to understanding terrorism. Relational and structural factors can be seen to provide legitimacy for militant discourse, and justification for actions and the socialising processes that contribute to the recruitment of members. The environment in which individuals live, children are reared and experiences and images encountered has a considerable bearing on the formation of identities and the likelihood of the internalisation of radical ideologies. Biographical accounts will be used to help establish the perceptions 16 For example, Ayubi (1991), Hiro (2002), Paz (2003) and Stern (2003).


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of people involved and validate the significance of societal and international events and processes within the radicalisation of individuals and group behaviour. The use of these accounts has been under-exploited within studies of terrorism. It is important to grasp the significance of events and experiences for individuals. Crenshaw (1998: 250) notes, ‘terrorism is not a direct result of social conditions but of individual perceptions of those conditions’. Terrorism is rarely, however, the act of an individual but is part of a social process that includes group activity with shared values and practices. It is therefore important to identify individual and social factors and their interrelationships. Socio-economic background, education, family, friends and the roles of societies and governments are examined to enable a more comprehensive and integrative analysis of terror groups and societies to emerge. By adopting this approach, it is intended to avoid being overly deterministic or excessively individualistic, and instead to integrate individual and social processes that result in radicalisation. Using published biographical accounts has a number of potential flaws, not least the lack of control over the interview and collation process. To become confident in the validity of the material studies from reputable sources have been used. When personalised accounts have been included, they are in association with other perspectives to provide validity checks. There are also concerns about the reliability of personal accounts, with individuals recalling sensitive, often highly contentious, incidents, including the use of violence. Many explanations for such actions, and the processes that led to them, have often been biased, with the individuals subjectively portraying their involvement. But as Crenshaw (1998: 277) observes, although autobiographical accounts ‘may be self-serving, that does not mean that they are not also, in some significant way, revealing’. Horgan (2005) adds that while life histories can be problematic, they can help to identify core features about the processes by which people join groups. Consequently, providing the material is used with caution, illuminating triggers, patterns and processes can be identified from a range of sources that can help improve levels of knowledge and understanding. Empirical research that can be used to identify commonalities and nuances is, however, often limited, with governments reluctant to permit access to prisoners convicted or suspected of committing acts of political violence. Many people clandestinely belonging to terror groups are reluctant to threaten their cover through exposure to academic investigation. However, former members are often willing to discuss their activities. There are also investigative studies17 that have unearthed a wealth of background material. Case studies were partly chosen because of the availability of a range of documentation and in particular different biographical accounts of events and processes. Studied collectively, these accounts enable a more comprehensive picture of diverse interpretations and experiences to be formulated. If meaningful comparative analysis of the dimensions is to be approached, a broad sample of terror groups has to be examined. However, it is not intended to produce a definitive comparative analysis within this text. Instead, a range of terror groups have been selected that represent some of the most important types of terrorism from the last 40 years. Consequently, there are examples associated with 17 Studies include Bruce (1992), Burke (2003), Taylor (1998, 2000) and Victor (2004).

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religion (al-Qa’ida-related groups across Muslim nation-states and communities, and the Japanese cult, the Aum Supreme Truth); nationalism (the Irish Republican Army); pro-state terrorism (UVF, UFF and LVF in Northern Ireland); religionationalism (Hamas and Islamic Jihad in the Palestinian territories); ‘red’ urban terrorism (groups from America, Germany, Italy and Japan); and militia and racialist groups within the United States. These case studies have been chosen because of their considerable contemporary relevance, continuing resonance or long-lasting impact within the societies in which they emerged. And by selecting groups from different categories and generations, ideologies, motivations, experiences and socialising processes can be compared to assess the extent to which contemporary strategies and methods associated with religious groups like al-Qa’ida and the Aum Supreme Truth indicate that a new ‘wave’ (Rapoport, 2003), new type of terrorist (Hudson, 1999), or new generation (Hoffman, 1998) has emerged. Some groups are noticeable absentees, particularly from South America where a range of associations with religion, ideology, crime and nation-states can be found. Unfortunately, there was not the scope to include these groups within this text; a decision partly based on pragmatic grounds and the limited amount of information currently available outside the indigenous language. Structure of the Book The book has been formulated to enable the central research questions outlined above to be explored within America, Germany, Italy, Japan, Northern Ireland, the Palestinian territories and transnational locations most prominently associated with al-Qa’ida. In the following chapters, influential and symbolically significant terror groups are examined, in particular discourses and motivational factors, societal and international contexts in which ideologies develop, and agents that are instrumental within processes of radicalisation. Whilst attention is placed upon similar central processes, the layout of chapters is not identical. This is because the case studies are diverse and the structure, focus and depth of analysis within each chapter reflect the central characteristics of the societies and groups under investigation. Neither the groups nor the societies are dissected in considerable detail as there are many wellinformed texts, which are referenced in the chapters. Instead overviews are provided in sufficient depth to explain the social processes and activities which are resulting in the emergence of terrorism in different settings. The case studies commence with studies of ‘Islamic’ terrorism. Chapters 2 and 3 examine two distinct types of groups that are commonly categorised together within the generic ‘War against Terror’, and in particular the emphasis on Islamic groups. However, this classification overlooks essential differences within groups’ discourse, aims and strategies, and over simplifies the vicissitudes in socialising experiences between members of religio-nationalist Palestinian and religious al-Qa’ida-related groups. Consequently, Chapter 2 is dedicated to the interrelationships between processes of individual radicalisation and social relations and activities that contribute to people joining Palestinian groups, Hamas and Islamic Jihad. Attention is placed upon Islamic and nationalist


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discourse, the societies in which the militants develop their beliefs and the agents involved in the process. Chapter 3 explores transnational groups associated with alQa’ida and incorporates comparative analysis between the different components to identify distinctions and similarities, which suggest that a more sophisticated way of differentiating between militant groups associated with Islam is required. The comparative theme is also prominent within the remaining chapters. In Chapter 4, the focus is upon republican and loyalist groups within Northern Ireland. Particular attention is placed upon the processes and issues which have contributed to ideologically opposed terror groups forming within the same towns and cities. In other words, what is it about Northern Ireland that has resulted in terror groups like the IRA forming, to achieve independence, while opposing organisations such as the UVF and UFF demand the maintenance of existing ties and loyalties? Chapter 5 explores ‘red’ urban terrorism in Italy, Germany and Japan. In order to understand the rise of extreme left-wing terrorism within democratic societies, it is necessary to explore historical developments and grasp the significance of the juxtaposition of the past and present. The discussion of ‘red’ terrorism is extended to the beginning of Chapter 6 which concentrates on America. It is argued that some of the changes instigated after the demise of left-wing groups like the Weather Underground and the Symbionese Liberation Army have contributed to rising anger and resentment amongst the far right-wing movement that grew to prominence and notoriety during the 1990s. The majority of this chapter examines the reasons behind the rise, or in some ways the resurgence, of the movement and the social processes behind the radicalisation of people like Timothy McVeigh and the group, the Silent Brotherhood, that resulted in acts of terrorism. The book culminates with a review of the preceding material, drawing some general conclusions about the relationships between societies and terrorism, and the processes through which people become radicalised and join terror groups. Because religious terrorism is currently strongly linked with a phase of ‘new terrorism’, the key processes identified in the radicalisation of militant Islamic groups are applied to the Aum Supreme Truth, to test their broader applicability for other types of religions. Through multi-layered comparisons of a range of groups, it is hoped to be able to improve levels of knowledge and understanding about similarities and differences that in turn will help to explain why acts of terrorism are committed in different places by a diverse range of people.


Chapter 2

National ‘Islamic’ Terrorism: Groups in the Palestinian Territories Introduction Attacks by Palestinian groups have attracted considerable attention since the emergence of groups like the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP) and Black September in the 1960s and 1970s. More recently, actions by Hamas and Palestinian Islamic Jihad (PIJ), and to a lesser extent the al-Aqsa Brigade,1 have been the most newsworthy. The first two groups hold militant Islamic views and as a consequence have been associated with al-Qa’ida. This is a mistake because there are fundamental differences in ideology, experiences and socialising processes between the groups. To try to address some of the confusion and oversimplification, this chapter includes a general exploration of militant Islam. After establishing the ideological framework, the focus then shifts towards understanding and explaining how people become aware of Hamas and PIJ, why they become members, the beliefs that are held, and which people and experiences were influential. In the following chapter, the socialising processes of individuals belonging to Muslim transnational groups associated with al-Qa’ida are examined. Comparative analysis is then undertaken between national and transnational groups to identify distinctions and similarities between experiences. In the process, the general tendency to categorise these different groups within a generic ‘War on Terror’ is challenged. Explaining ‘Islamic’ Terrorism: Religion and Secularisation ‘Islamic’ terrorism needs to be considered alongside the much broader Islamic resurgence which has involved numerous groups of Sunnis and Shi’ites2 and range from moderate to militant ideologues. Increases in levels of moderate beliefs and 1 The Al-Aqsa Brigade is linked to the secular Fatah Party and emerged during the second intifada. Despite these secular links, the group also utilises Islamic rhetoric and symbols as the basis for resistance (Saikal, 2003) and, as Cunningham (2003) notes, the lines between secularists and Islamists have become blurred. However, as Frisch (2005) remarks, Fatah continues to place greater emphasis on nationalist sentiments and its vision for the future is more obviously secular. 2 Sunnis constitute around 85 to 90 per cent of all Muslims and Shi’ites between 10 to 15 per cent. The division is rooted in the struggle over Muhammed’s succession and the criteria on which successors should be appointed. This study concentrates upon the numerically dominant Sunni groups.

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practices of individuals and groups, often within predominantly secular social relations, are the most prominent feature of the resurgence. At the opposite or extreme end of the spectrum of resurgence are Muslims who support or promote a radical interpretation of Islam that seeks to transform majority-Muslim societies into Islamic states and/or unite the ummah (global community of Muslims). Despite the tendency to categorise these groups under single, emotive, loaded headings like ‘fundamentalists’, they differ tremendously in their religious interpretations, practices and actions. Some groups, including Tablighi Jamaat, which is predominantly based in South Asia, focus upon improving individual faith and behaviour through preaching and practice. Groups associated with al-Qa’ida also emphasise achieving the ummah, adapting divine law to the modern world and using violence to help achieve these ends. By comparison, Hamas and PIJ use violence as part of the struggle to achieve an Islamic Palestinian nation-state, and also place greater overt emphasis upon socialisation processes and welfare provision. Hamas is the most popular Palestinian group. This popularity can be seen to be based upon its focus on independence and utilising nationalist sentiments, providing social welfare to people that would otherwise be unavailable, and, as Tamimi (2007: 117) suggests, the reputations of leaders’ ‘asceticism, altruism, dedication and honesty’. By comparison, al-Qa’ida represents what can be described as Islamic internationalism, cross-cutting national boundaries, utilising transnational networks, loose associations that are formed across the world in virtual alliances, sharing ideology, tactics and targets. Islamic internationalism promotes the concept of the ummah, which Hamas promotes at a local level, although many individuals and groups involved will often identify with and target local issues, and attack symbols of international economic, political and military power. Both forms of groups are Sunnis, although there are important Shi’ite groups associated with terrorism, including most notably Hezbollah3 in Lebanon, which are beyond the scope of this chapter. Analysis of both resurgent Islam and the rise in national and international Islamic terrorism has tended to be dominated by explanations grounded in the secularisation paradigm. This has led to both phenomena being widely considered as short-term consequences of economic exclusion, cultural reaction and political expediency, linked to the interrelated processes of globalisation, modernisation and secularisation (Vertigans, 2003; Sutton and Vertigans, 2005). In modernising societies, people are uprooted from their traditional lives into constantly expanding towns and cities. Urbanisation is not accompanied by concomitant growth in social services, cultural support networks or economic prosperity, resulting in people experiencing dislocation, alienation and relative deprivation. And these people subsequently become vulnerable to radical ideologies like militant Islam that offer solutions to problems being encountered. Clearly experiences like these have contributed to large numbers of people becoming radicalised. But it would be a mistake to overstate the direct impact of modernisation-related processes. As the longer term 3 Hezbollah is also a political party. The group formed in 1982 and initially had very close links with Iran. For further details, see Qassem (2005), Reuter (2004), Saikal (2003) and Zisser (2003).


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nature of the resurgence and the cross-cutting appeal of Islam has highlighted, these generalisations are problematic because all these factors have to varying degrees preceded both the broad resurgence and militancy. Interrelated processes of modernisation and secularisation have been notable within Muslim societies since the Ottoman Empire introduced the Tanzimat period during the nineteenth century in an attempt to remedy diminishing levels of power, influence and territory. Processes of change were accelerated during the twentieth century across Muslim nation-states, and a variety of different approaches to secularisation were adopted. All the approaches, however, shared a diminution in the power of the religious establishment until the Iranian Revolution in 1979 led to the establishment of a theocracy. The vast majority of Muslim nation-states remain secular and those most prominent in relation to ‘Islamic’ terrorism, like Saudi Arabia,4 Pakistan, Egypt and Indonesia, have been undergoing modernisation for generations. These changes have been linked to greater exposure to globalisation that has contributed to improvements in technology, communications, transportation, life expectancy, employment, individual wealth, literacy and leisure activities. But these processes have also contributed to economic crisis, large-scale unemployment, poverty, alienation and cultural dislocation. Problems associated with globalisation, secularisation and modernisation have been used to explain the broad Islamic resurgence and more specifically terrorism.5 As these studies correctly identify, many Muslims are facing tremendous difficulties or dilemmas associated with poverty, failing businesses, insecurity, dislocation and immorality. Li and Schaub (2004: 236) exemplify this perspective when arguing that ‘a primary cause of transnational terrorism is underdevelopment and poverty … Poor economic conditions create “terrorist breeding” grounds, where disaffected populations turn to transnational terrorist activities as a solution to their problems’. Support for this argument is provided by President G.W. Bush’s (2002) claim that ‘we fight poverty because hope is an answer to poverty’. People become attracted to a range of religious ideologies, policies and support mechanisms that different Islamic interpretations and groups provide. However, while these factors are important for many people becoming more religious and processes of radicalisation, they are not new phenomena. In addition, these factors cannot account for the appeal of militant Islam across different socio-economic groupings, ethnicities, nationalities and gender, including educated, wealthy people. If, for example, the social backgrounds of suicide/martyrdom attackers are analysed,6 it is apparent that such attacks have been organised and carried out by a wide range of Muslims from different countries, occupations, levels of educational achievement and gender.

4 Islam remains heavily influential within Saudi Arabia and is strongly embedded within social control mechanisms. However, it is the royal family who are in power and ultimately control Islam, with religious institutions used to legitimise Saudi policies and actions. 5 For example, see Ayubi (1991), Hiro (2002), Kepel (2004a), Paz (2001), Roy (1994), Saleh (2004), Shiva (2003) and Stern (2003). 6 For example, Bloom (2005), Davis (2003), Khosrokhavar (2005), Oliver and Steinberg (2005) and Victor (2004).

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Explanations for militancy and acts of terrorism have acknowledged the diversity of socio-economic backgrounds but have tended to over-concentrate upon the secularisation paradigm and in particular exclusionary criteria noted above. Consequently, membership of groups by educated people is often considered to be a reaction to disillusionment and disappointment associated with experiences of unemployment or limited career opportunities following graduation (Ayubi, 1991; Mehmet, 1990; Roy, 1994). Gurr’s (1970) theory of relative deprivation exemplifies common perceptions that associate rebellious behaviour with economic deprivation. Certainly there are people who have joined militant groups as a result of these experiences, but crucially others have developed successful careers post University. A number of studies7 have shown that there is a diverse range of socio-economic backgrounds, educational attainment levels and a preponderance of upwardly mobile middle class individuals and professional backgrounds both within moderate groups and radical Islamist networks. Sageman’s (2004) study of 172 Islamic militants identified an over-representation of the upper and middle classes who had a higher than average level of education. This is also noticeable in al-Qa’ida’s pre-September 2001 leadership, which included bin Laden (a multi-millionaire), al-Zawahiri (a surgeon), Mohammed Atef (a police official), Khalid Shaikh Mohammed (an engineer) and Saif al-Adel (an army colonel). Professionals and upwardly mobile members are also prominent within Palestinian groups. At the meeting which led to the formalisation of Hamas in 1987, the attendees were Sheikh Ahmad Yassin (a teacher), ‘Abd al-Aziz al-Rantisi (a physician), Ibrahim al-Yazuri (a pharmacist), Muhammad Sham’a (a teacher), Sheikh Salah Shihada (a university administrator), Issa al-Nashshar (an engineer) and ‘Abd-al-Fattah Dukhan (a schoolmaster).8 Socioeconomic backgrounds were highlighted in 1992 when Israel deported hundreds of suspected Hamas and PIJ members to the security zone in Southern Lebanon, then under the control of Israel. The action attracted international media attention, and enquiries into the deportees discovered that they included 17 university lecturers, 11 medical doctors, 14 engineers, 36 businessmen, 5 journalists, 109 university students and 208 imams.9 Yet despite this extensive challenge, as Hafez comments (2004: xvii), ‘Gurr’s theory [of relative deprivation] continues to prevail, explicitly or implicitly, as the leading explanation of Islamist violence and rebellion by area specialists, Islamic study scholars and journalists covering the Muslim world’. It is therefore important that the focus shifts beyond economics and employment to explore the underlying causes that can help explain the diverse appeal of Islamic terrorism. These causes are associated with changes to socialisation processes and individual experiences that lead to the formation of national and international militant identities. And as Hafez (2004) and Rashid (2002) have argued, state repression is an important factor in a number of contexts. Certainly it could be argued that the threats to organisational resources and personal lives were real in Algeria, Egypt and Central Asia during the 1990s when the militant challenge intensified. Yet they 7 Studies include Atran (2004), Berrebi (2003), Haddad (2004), Hoffman (2003), Sutton and Vertigans (2005), Vertigans (2003). 8 Detailed in Abu-Amr (1994). 9 Reported in Tamimi (2007: 67).


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are much less prominent in Western Europe and America, and to a lesser extent Jordan and Indonesia, where Muslim radicalisation is also noticeable. This chapter focuses upon processes of Palestinian radicalisation that have led to different levels of discursive consciousness and concomitant growth of militancy. The discussion begins with an examination of common ideological roots both for Palestinian Islamic nationalism and the transnational terrorism associated with al-Qa’ida that is outlined in the following chapter. Ideological Foundation for ‘Islamic’ Terrorism The ideological roots10 for both al-Qa’ida and Palestinian Islamic groups can ultimately be traced to the ideas and practices introduced during the time of Muhammed ibn Abdullah (570–632AD). For Muslims, Muhammed was the last and most revered prophet who was instrumental in the expansion of Islam across geographical regions and populations. It is therefore important to briefly outline11 the emergence and development of Islam because of its centrality to understanding contemporary events while conversely challenging some current preconceptions. Muhammed was born in Mecca in what is now Saudi Arabia. In the sixth century, Mecca was undergoing tremendous transformation as the agrarian economy shifted to become more commercial, nomads settled into urban areas and societal structures and power relations evolved to try and accommodate the changes. The outcome of the transformation was that previous lifestyles were often no longer appropriate or even achievable, levels of individualism, private property, usury and profiteering increased and group solidarity and tribal unity decreased. Unsurprisingly the extent of the changes caused considerable concern. It was within this context that Muhammed is believed to have received the revelations from Allah, to be recorded in the Qu’ran, and which Muslims consider to be the final message from Allah. On receiving the revelations, Muhammed began to promote a new religious ideology that provided a framework for life. Moral and ethical dilemmas were confronted and Muhammed sought to unify the fractured society. Because of the critical nature of his preaching, he was considered a threat by the governing elite and left Mecca for Medina. In Medina, Muhammed quickly became influential and was installed as political and religious leader. Unity was developed around the concept of the ummah and the primary allegiance that believers must have with Allah. Loyalty to Allah was to be the most important factor within peoples’ lives, given priority over family, friends and tribe. As McDermott and Ahsan (1980: 17) point out: ‘A Muslim should worship or give his allegiance and loyalty to none apart from Him, or in association with Him, or independent of Him. He should have absolute trust in Him and love or fear none more than Him.’ Islam is, however, about much more than 10 The groups belong to the largest Islamic denomination, Sunni. 11 This chapter is not intended to provide a detailed introduction to Islam. There are many texts available for readers who are interested in finding out more about history and theological matters, including Ahmed (1992), Armstrong (2002), Du Pasquier (1992), Guillaume (1990), Hodgson (1974), Lapidus (2002), Mehmet (1990), Mortimer (1982), Rodinson (1973), Watt (1968) and, of course, the Qu’ran.

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belief. From the onset of Muhammed’s leadership in Medina, the interrelationship between both politics and religion and theory and practice was formally established and the distinction between the sacred and profane became blurred so that ‘every action of a Muslim can be regarded as worship … if it is done with the intention of fulfilling God’s commands’ (Ahsan, 1991: 21). By implementing the revelations found in the Qu’ran, Muhammed provided a pragmatic framework in which Islam became embedded within all spheres of society including social relations, political systems, cultural behaviour, economic practices, morality, hygiene and legal arrangements. During times of uncertainty and immorality, Muhammed provided solidarity and guidance and grew in popularity. People quickly converted to Islam and numbers increased further through military expansion and alliances, including ties with the elite from Mecca. Islam became a dynamic and powerful religion. During the time of three Muslim dynasties, Umayyads of Damascus (661–750), Abbasids of Baghdad (750–1517) and the Ottoman Empire (1342–1918), the religion was to spread across the Arabian peninsula in all directions, across Asia, large parts of Africa and Southern and Eastern Europe. Until the sixteenth century, the Muslim dynasties were the most powerful and influential in the world. The extent to which Islam was an integral part of the Empires is much contested. Similarly the reasons for the decline in Muslim fortunes are also the source of considerable debate. Attempts at reform by the Ottomans and secularisation programmes introduced by subsequent Muslim governments suggested that the beliefs and practices of the Empire had become outdated. Religion was deemed unable to compete with Western ideas, methods and technologies. Consequently, there was considerable imitation of Western ideologies, behaviour and systems across Middle Eastern and North African societies in particular. However, seculardriven modernisation has achieved only limited success. National and international policies have contributed to opportunities, raised expectations and broken promises, individual riches and national debts, and growing disparities in wealth and power between professions, ethnic groups, religious denominations and regions. At first glance, these factors may appear to support the economic deprivation argument. But as Hafez (2004) observes in his comparative analysis of Islamic militancy, there is no correlation between levels of economic deprivation, demographics and insurgency. Instead the issues extend beyond financial resources to incorporate political, cultural, social, legal and moral concerns. Consequently there is also little support for the other dominant explanation for Islamic militancy, namely weak personalities and brainwashing. There is some evidence to support claims by Ayubi (1991), Mehmet (1990) and Hiro (2002) that relocation and rapid modernisation cause dislocation and feelings of alienation and anomie, but these people are rarely at the forefront of revolutionary change. As Bayat (1997: 38) remarked with respect to the Iranian revolution, ‘the disenfranchised remained on the margins of the revolutionary campaign nearly until the end’. The other side of the weak personality argument is that militant Muslims are a consequence of brainwashing. For instance, Rashid (2005) claims that ‘the simple reason is the terrifying brainwashing suffered by most of the Arab youth at the hands of “religious clerics” and particularly at the hands of the extremists with backward views’. Such claims lack empirical support and, as


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subsequent chapters will detail, if terror groups become prominent, they are led by people with the abilities to organise, mobilise, plan and operate in intense situations: attributes that tend to hinder influential roles for the dispossessed and mentally ill. Instead of economic determinism or psychological ploys, modern contradictions have contributed to a re-assessment of past failures, with many Muslims now concluding that ‘Islam lost power, not due to [the] West being good but as Muslims became bad Muslims’, while contemporary ‘problems are from copying [the] West and forgetting Islamic ways’.12 For militant Muslims, periods of expansion, particularly under Muhammed and his immediate successors, and closer governance of societies according to the Shari’ah (Islamic law), legitimised Islam as an allencompassing ideology. Indeed on the basis of past successes, militant Muslims advocate a return to the ways of Muhammed for the future. This idealism overlooks the pragmatism that was prominent from the religion’s origins. For example, during the implementation of the Shari’ah, the revelations were translated within the period’s realpolitik and power relations were established with former enemies at Mecca (Rodinson, 1973). A brief history of Islam provides evidence that the religion is neither generic nor inherently conflictual. On the contrary, the ummah has always been heterogeneous, composed of a multitude of ethnicities, interpretations and practices. And while attention is often placed upon the military successes of Muhammed and his successors, he also stressed tolerance and cooperation. Today the overwhelming majority of Muslims are moderate in their beliefs and acts. For them religion is a private matter. Militants disagree because they want their interpretations of religious doctrine to be the basis for an Islamic state in a fusion of theory and practice. In other words, they want to dramatically increase the influence of religion so that it becomes embedded within social, political, economic, legal and cultural relations. Particular attention is placed upon the Shari’ah which groups interpret according to their own perceptions and utilise in support of their actions. Ultimately these groups want to implement religion as a way of life, whether as part of al-Qa’ida’s transnationalism or Hamas’ nationalism.13 The focus upon Islam as a totality is outlined in Hamas’ Charter (1988) which describes the Muslim Brotherhood Movement of which it is a part: ‘It is characterised by … its complete embrace of all Islamic concepts of all aspects of life, culture, creed, politics, economics, education, society, justice and judgement, the spreading of Islam, education, art, information, science of the occult and conversion to Islam, and all the other domains of life.’ To achieve this, individuals are expected to renounce Western lifestyles and increase their observance of religious practices, behaviour and appearance. The Muslim Brotherhood has been influential for generations. Formed during the 1920s in Egypt, at a time when Islam was increasingly seen to be under threat from Westernisation and secularism, the Brotherhood sought to increase the influence of religion in society and politics. Within a few years the Brotherhood had grown into 12 These statements are from Muslims who were respondents in a case study (Vertigans, 2003: 127) undertaken into socialising processes of Turkish Muslims. 13 Hamas’ Charter (1988) argues somewhat contentiously amongst militant circles that nationalism is ‘part and parcel of the religious faith’.

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a popular movement that challenged Western-based modernity and quickly spread across the Middle East. The challenges posed and the ideas of early leaders like Hasan al-Banna (1906–49) and Sayyid Qutb (1906–66), especially the latter, have remained influential within the contemporary Islamic resurgence. Discoursively Qutb was heavily influenced by al-Banna and Ibn Taymiyya,14 experientially by time spent in America between 1948 and 1951, and the repression of radical Muslims by Nasser in the late 1950s and 1960s. These experiences contributed towards Qutb’s radicalisation, and his views (particularly the seminal Milestones which was published in 1966) were to make a major contribution to the intellectual development of Islamic militancy and its separation from orthodox ulema.15 At the same time that al-Banna and Qutb were developing militant ideology in the Middle East, Mawlana Abul Ala Mawdudi (1903–79) was undertaking a similar role in South Asia, although his recommendations placed more emphasis upon gradual evolution. When synthesised, their work reintroduced Islamic concepts that are central to militancy today, particularly the division of the world into good and evil, peace and war (Darul-Islam and Dar-ul-Harb), the role of the vanguard to instigate change, takfir (excommunication) which is used to separate militants from the impure masses, and the centrality of jihad.16 Despite emphasising early Islamic concepts and the need to return to religious ways of behaviour to re-establish Muslim superiority, these ideologues were not reactionaries as is widely perceived. They were critical both of what were considered the ills of Western modernity and the stagnation of ‘official’ Islam and the inaction of Islamic traditionalists. And while they were extremely critical of Western modernity, the potential of related technology and scientific methods was acknowledged and promoted under Islamic control. Indeed adaptations of Islamic concepts for political, social, economic and political challenges that were then prevalent were very much products of their time. These unique interpretations, particularly by Qutb, were to become instrumental in the development both of ‘Islamic’ militants like Muhammad al-Farag (1954–82) of the Egyptian Islamic Jihad, Osama bin Laden of the al-Qa’ida network, Dr Ayman al-Zawahiri who has belonged to both groups, Sheikh Ahmad Yesin, Dr ‘Abd al-Aziz al-Rantisi of Hamas, and Fathi al-Shaqaqi and Abd al-Aziz 14 Taymiyya (1263–1328) was an earlier ideologue who declared the right of Muslims to wage jihad against apostates, both non-Muslim and Muslim. 15 Qutb also confronted materialism, arguing that societies under the Shari’ah would not attain the same material standards as the West but these were unnecessary. Achievements on earth were irrelevant in comparison with acting in accordance with the will of Allah (Zimmerman, 2004). 16 There are two forms of jihad (meaning struggle or striving). The greater jihad emphasises individuals striving to improve their own religiosity. By comparison, the lesser jihad, often referred to in the West as Holy War, can be defensive, only requiring war when religion or way of life is threatened or aggressive in the pursuit of new lands. Qutb’s reinterpretation argued that alleged Muslim societies have relegated the legislative powers of Allah and are in a state of ignorance (jahiliyya) and can, indeed should, be legitimately overthrown by believers. The lesser jihad has been further interpreted by many contemporary militants to allow acts of terrorism against Western targets and in some cases women and children.


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Auda from PIJ. In turn, the work of the ideological innovators of the early and mid twentieth century have been revised, particularly by al-Qa’ida’s ideologues, who belong to the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries in both local and global settings. By comparison, while both Hamas and PIJ have reinterpreted elements of Islamic doctrine, their links with the Muslim Brotherhood are much clearer and more direct. Hamas, for example, emerged out of the Brotherhood in 1987, during the early stages of the first intifada, to provide more radical leadership and military threat.17 The group was to become so influential and authoritative, both within the intifadas and Gaza and West Bank communities, that the Brotherhood became subsumed. PIJ was also formed out of the ranks of the Muslim Brotherhood in 1980. By comparison with Hamas, PIJ was much more critical about the Brotherhood, arguing that although re-Islamicising the population was required, it needed to take place alongside more radical political leadership and strategies. Consequently, PIJ chose not to compete with the Brotherhood’s extensive and popular social and religious networks and concentrated on jihad to liberate Palestine, which members thought had been neglected by both secular and religious leaders. PIJ therefore became involved in armed activities against Israelis at a time when the Muslim Brotherhood did not, at least openly, support such resistance.18 To understand why radical Islam became integral within the Palestinian struggle during the 1980s, recent social contexts in which militant consciousness is forming need to be examined. Historical Development of Israeli–Palestinian Conflict Conflict19 between Israel and the Palestinians has been long standing. Acts of ‘Islamic’ terrorism may have only become prominent since the 1980s and increasingly during the 1990s, but Palestinians and Jews had both been involved in terrorism previously. In other words, this is a turbulent region with well-established and deep-rooted problems. After a short period of optimism in the immediate aftermath of the Oslo Peace Accords, the subsequent lack of agreement on the core issues, including settlements,20 the status of Jerusalem and the rights of Palestinian refugees, resulted in a return to violence. Violence has since escalated on both sides and over 4,600 people have been killed since 2000. And while the Israeli army disengaged from Gaza in 2005, they continue to surround the area, constantly use military surveillance, and Gazan movement into neighbouring regions is extremely restricted. As Tamimi 17 Hamas was to form a military wing, the al-Qassam Brigades, in an attempt to distinguish between different functions. 18 Further information about these points can be found in Abu-Amr (1994), Esposito (2002), Kepel (2004a) and Tamimi (2007). 19 This section provides a concise review of the conflict. There are numerous books that examine the conflict in depth, including Bregman and Jihan (1998), Cohn-Sherbok and Dawood (2003), Fraser (2007), Gresh and Vidal (1990), Oren (2002), Said (1994), Smith (2007) and Tessler (1994). 20 In 2005 there were over 400,000 Jewish settlers, 177,000 in Jerusalem and 230,000 in the West Bank. At the time of the Oslo Peace Accords, there were about 280,000 in total.

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(2007) argued, Gaza can be perceived as a huge prison. Palestinian grievances in the West Bank have been exacerbated by the construction of the barrier that bisects the territories. But the central dispute over land has existed since the formation of Israel in 1948, which predates recent terror campaigns and, arguably, the related erection of the barrier. Similarly, economic and social deprivation has existed for generations. Yet the rise in widespread Palestinian Islamic active protest is a more recent phenomenon that utilises images and events from the past to try to strengthen appeal and legitimacy. And as the above leadership breakdown shows, people who become involved with groups like Hamas and Islamic Jihad are not inevitably deprived (Atran, 2004; Hoffman, 2003). This is not to argue that material structural problems are unimportant when seeking to understand the long-term conflict and use of suicide attacks. But as Atran (2004: 69) argues with respect to the latter, ‘poverty and lack of education per se are not root causes of suicide terrorism’. To provide a more composite analysis, the significance of history needs to be identified and social experiences and local and international interactions examined in order to grasp the contemporary nature of Palestinian ‘Islamic’ terrorism. According to the Bible, it is believed that an Israelite kingdom was established on the land that is now Israel and the Palestinian territories around 1000BC. The area was subsequently conquered by a multitude of invaders, including Assyrians, Babylonians, Persians and Romans. Following a number of revolts, the Romans removed the Jews from Jerusalem and renamed the area Palaestina which, when translated into English, became Palestine. The Jewish population in the region continued to be persecuted and, with the exception of communities in Galilee, most either fled or were exiled by the Romans. In the seventh century, Muslim armies conquered the region. Muslim control was to remain until the twentieth century. Throughout the period, relations between Jews and Muslims were predominantly peaceful. By 1880, it is estimated that there were only approximately 24,000 Jews living in the area out of a population of 400,000. During the nineteenth century, the region became increasingly influenced by European colonialism, modernisation and intellectual developments, including concepts like freedom and nationalism. These concepts were integrated both within the diaspora and traditional Jewish ideas about Israel and Zion, to become what is recognised today as Zionism. Zionists wished to establish a Jewish homeland in Palestine. This demand was given momentum by the increased persecution of Jews across Germany and Eastern Europe. Many Jews migrated to Palestine and by 1914 totalled between 85,000 and 100,000. During the First World War, the Ottoman Empire, which governed Palestine at the time, fought alongside Germany and Austria-Hungary. Many Jews were either interned or deported as part of the Ottoman policies against foreign nationals. This period (1914–18) is also notable for three plans that were devised for the region in the eventuality of an allied victory. The plans have had a long-lasting impression on the role of international involvement in the region. In the 1916 Syke-Picot agreement, Britain and France decided to dismember the Ottoman territories, with part of Palestine to be under British rule and the remainder to be controlled by a joint Allied government. However, in return for Arab support against the Ottomans, Britain offered to back Arab demands for post war independence. It was widely assumed that this promise included Palestine. In the third proposal, the 1917 Balfour Declaration,


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the British government was to support the establishment of ‘a Jewish national homeland in Palestine’. After the war, Britain was given a mandate over Palestine and the wider area known as Transjordan, which eventually gained independence as Jordan. The mandate was designed to implement the Jewish homeland that had been established in the Balfour Declaration. Nationalist antagonism became prominent as tensions rose between Jews and Arabs. Jews were concerned about being outnumbered by Arabs, while Arabs were dismayed at the perceived impact of Jewish immigration control, and violence broke out between them. During the 1930s, the scale of the violence increased. Jewish immigration was considered to be contributing towards the unrest and violence, and so limits were introduced. Increasingly Jewish underground groups, the Irgun and Lehi (better known as the Stern Gang) used acts of terrorism to try to force the British out of Palestine. In 1947 the United Nations (UN) passed a resolution to divide Palestine into an Arab state and a Jewish state, according to where their respective populations were based. Jerusalem was to be placed under international administration. At the time there were about 600,000 Jews and 1.2 million Arabs living in the territory. The Jews accepted the proposal which the native Arabs rejected. Against a backdrop of increased fighting, Jews proclaimed an independent state of Israel on 14 May 1948 and the British military withdrew. The new Prime Minister of Israel, David BenGurion, brought together pragmatic and religious justifications for the new nationstate. Israel was, he argued, legitimised both according to the Jewish people’s right according to biblical promises made by Jehovah to Abraham and the recognition of the UN.21 Shortly afterwards, neighbouring Arab states, Egypt, Jordan and Syria, invaded and fought intermittently with Jewish forces until they were defeated in 1949. At the end of the war, Israel’s territory had increased, Egypt became responsible for the Gaza Strip and Jordan claimed the West Bank. Over 700,000 Arabs left or were driven out of Israel and became refugees. The international administration of Jerusalem was not enforced and the city was divided between Israel and Jordan. Arab nation-states refused to recognise the borders of Israel. Tensions between the neighbouring states and Israel continued to be prominent. In 1956 Israeli forces invaded Sinai in Egypt, with the support of France and Britain, ostensibly to reverse the nationalisation of the Suez Canal. Following pressure from the UN and America, Israel’s forces left Sinai. Relationships further deteriorated during the 1960s, and in 1967 the ‘six-day’ war broke out between Israel and the Arab forces of Egypt, Syria and Iraq. Israel was again the victor. At the conclusion of the war, Israel occupied the Sinai Peninsula, Gaza, the West Bank and the Syrian Golan Heights. A resolution was passed by the UN that called for negotiations for permanent peace and Israeli withdrawal from land occupied since 1967. With prospects for peace seemingly limited, Israel, influenced by religious and nationalist groups, introduced its much disputed settlements policy, both inside Israel and beyond, and Jews started building property on the contested territory in Gaza and the West Bank.22 Low-level conflict between Israel and Egypt continued after 1967. In 1973 the third substantive war broke out between Israel and Arab forces, on this occasion 21 Ben-Gurion’s comments are discussed in Gresh and Vidal, 1990. 22 The settlement policy was not officially declared until 1977.

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Syrian and Egyptian. After initial successes, the Arab forces were driven back and when the fighting ended, neither side had a significant advantage. This war did, however, lead to concerted efforts to establish peace between Israel and Egypt, resulting in the 1978 Camp David framework agreement, a Peace Treaty in 1979, and in 1982 the withdrawal of Israeli forces from the Sinai Peninsula. The Peace Treaty was also to prove influential both in growing opposition from militants in Egypt, who subsequently killed President Anwar Sadat, and the direction of the Palestinians’ struggle. Ironically, Tamimi (2007) points out that in the decade after the loss of territory in 1967, the Palestinians position improved, particularly in Gaza. Higher paid employment opportunities in Israel were plentiful, workers could cross into Israel with relative ease, and communications and transportation between Gaza and the West Bank was enhanced. Gradually though, barrier controls became more rigid and tense, causing Palestinians to feel de-personalised, and Israeli settlements were developed. Security became more oppressive, partly in response to the threat posed by groups like the PFLP, collective punishments were imposed against communities and the regions became increasingly militarised. By 1987, tensions within the territories had become intense and were to attract international attention through the first intifada (uprising). The intifada initially began as a spontaneous civil disturbance with civilians, most notably women and children, confronting the Israeli military. Images of these groups throwing stones at Israeli tanks quickly attracted international attention and the plight of the Palestinians became high profile. The tactic of throwing stones could be seen to reflect the weakness of the Palestinians’ military arsenal but also connected into local history. Oliver and Steinberg (2005) explain that Gaza has long been associated with stone throwing. A number of examples are included that range from a stone that almost killed Alexander the Great to the death of a British official in 1937. Similarly many of the slogans used during the protests can be traced to previous revolts in 1929 and 1936, with rhetoric adopted from poetry that decried Turk oppression and tyranny during the Ottoman period. Other messages connected to Islamic symbols, images, battles and heroes, suggesting the sacrilegious and legitimate nature of the struggle. The intifada was widely popular with Palestinians. Fatah, PIJ and the newly formed Hamas quickly became involved and the protests became more organised and strategic, causing reactions and counter-offensives from the Israeli Defence Forces (IDF). Between 1987 and 1993 (the period of the first intifada) over 1,000 Palestinian civilians were killed. Emotive images of the mobilisation of a broad spectrum of Palestinian civil society and dead civilians were also impacting upon Israel’s international relations. Under American pressure, Israeli and Palestinian officials formally commenced the peace process at the 1991 Madrid conference.23 Following the election of an Israeli left-wing government which placed greater emphasis on negotiation, the Oslo Peace Process achieved progress in 1993. The agreement was based upon the Palestinians recognising Israel in return for the phased 23 Conversely, at a time when the Palestinian issue continued to attract international attention and often sympathies, the Palestinian Liberation Organisation (PLO) was weakened internationally because of its support for Iraq during the 1991 Gulf War.


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withdrawal of Israel from designated territories. The process culminated in the 1993 Declaration of Principles. In 1994 some of the details were agreed. These included the withdrawal of Israel’s military from most of the Gaza Strip (but not Jewish settlements) and parts of the West Bank. A five-year interim period was established to resolve the most difficult issues. These included the creation of a Palestinian nation-state, Jewish settlements in the territories, the rights of Palestinian refugees, the status of Jerusalem and the distribution of water. At the time, the agreement was considered to be a success by the majority of Palestinians. Yasser Arafat24 was elected head of the new Palestinian National Authority (PA) and ultimately the President for the autonomous areas. However, the route towards peace did not negate violence. At numerous stages, the process was in danger of being overturned by the acts of militants, most notably the massacre of 29 Muslim worshippers committed by a Jewish settler, Baruch Goldstein, in 1994. A series of attacks by Palestinian groups followed, which killed scores of Israelis. In this period, suicide bombings became more noticeable, as a mechanism, it was argued, to offset Israel’s overwhelming military dominance.25 With radical Jews also vehemently opposed to the peace agreement, the region remained extremely volatile. Tensions were further exacerbated by ongoing militant attacks, Israeli blockades of autonomous areas and the continuation of the Israeli settlementbuilding programme. Peace talks continued but without the enthusiasm of earlier stages. Dissatisfaction and anger grew on the extremes of both sides. The extent of this anger became most apparent when the Israeli Prime Minister, Yitzhak Rabin, was assassinated by Yigal Amir, a Jewish religious extremist who was motivated by Rabin’s decision to surrender ‘religious’ territory. In retrospect, the deliverance of peace in the aftermath could be considered to have died with Rabin. His successor, Shimon Peres, lacked Rabin’s authority and was defeated by the right-wing Likud candidate, Binyamin Netanyahu, who was much less supportive of negotiated peace. But under American pressure, he did agree to hand over further Palestinian territory and, in 1998, signed the Wye River Memorandum that outlined further withdrawals from the West Bank. However, Netanyahu was unable to implement the agreement and was defeated in 1999 elections by the Labour Party’s Ehud Barak. The success of Barak, who campaigned on a peace pledge, continuing Labour’s ‘land for peace’ strategy, contributed to Arafat agreeing to defer a unilateral declaration of Palestinian statehood at the end of the five-year interim period. However, no significant progress on the most sensitive issues was achieved and frustrations with the peace process extended beyond the Palestinian militants. Frustrations turned to anger when the new Likud leader, Ariel Sharon, controversially visited the al-Aqsa/Temple Mount complex in Jerusalem. Sharon’s actions were widely considered to be provocative and the subsequent Palestinian demonstrations quickly escalated into the al-Aqsa intifada. This second intifada was much more dominated by the militants, and relations between Palestinians and Israelis descended into a cycle of violence. With Sharon’s electoral victory in 2001, Israeli policy shifted towards military solutions, and incursions and attacks by the 24 Since 1969, Arafat had been leader of the PLO. 25 Further details can be found in Oliver and Steinberg (2005) and Tamimi (2007).

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IDF rose. In these contexts, as Khosrokhavar (2005) comments, the pervasive nature of Israeli dominance in this small region intensifies the conflict in a manner that was not possible within Indian and Algerian struggles against British and French colonialism. In these colonies, encounters between the people and military were much less frequent and pervasive. Suicide attacks also continued and, with the bloodshed mounting on both sides, the United States proposed the ‘roadmap’, a timetable for negotiation. Then Israel commenced the building of the ‘wall’ in the West Bank for, it argued, security purposes. Palestinians have tended to consider the ‘wall’ to be an attempt by Israel to annex land that has become separated from the remainder of the territories. Despite a number of subsequent ceasefires, the Israeli withdrawal from Gaza, the death of Arafat, the incapacitation of Sharon and the assassination of leading Hamas figures like Yassin and al-Rantisi, the situation remains a stalemate. Indeed, the situation is deteriorating. Loose allegiances around a sense of national commitment and identification are weakening as traditional fractures between Gaza and the West Bank, city dwellers, refugee camps and rural areas re-emerge. Most notably, internal conflict between Hamas and Fatah supporters has contributed to a further weakening of Palestinian unity and international political potential. Involvement of the International Community The above historical analysis highlights that, at a broader level, there has been considerable international involvement with the Palestinians since partition in 1948, and previously when it was part of the Ottoman Empire and under British control. Increasingly the roles of international agencies and Western and Arab nation-states have been viewed with distrust. Throughout the twentieth and the first few years of the twenty-first centuries, numerous peace proposals have been put forward to resolve the conflict. These failed for a variety of reasons and the lack of progress has contributed to the UN being viewed with distrust by both Israelis and Palestinians. The former perceive that the international organisation has failed to appreciate the context in which Israel has to operate and in particular the considerable threat faced from enemy forces. Conversely Palestinians consider that the UN is too weak, dominated by American vetoes of critical resolutions about Israel. Indeed it is the role of the US that is making a major contribution to growing disillusionment with the West within the Palestinian territories. Abdallah (2003) has identified a number of causes for antiAmericanism within Arab states. These include ‘US political, economic and military support of Israel, which enables Israel to defeat the Arabs and continue its occupation of their land’. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the conflict between Israel and the Palestinians. America’s support for Israel is at odds with its self-declared role as peacemaker in the region (Halliday, 2002; Saikal, 2003). It is within this context that Palestinian cynicism about the ‘roadmap to peace’ and anger at the American endorsement of Israel’s disengagement plan arose. And contemporary actions are often interpreted against a historic backdrop. The Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas highlighted this in-between his periods as Prime Minister and President, in


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relation to the disengagement plan: ‘all of this reminds us of the Balfour Declaration: a promise from those who do not own made to those who do not deserve. What is the place of the US to negotiate on behalf of the Palestinians with the Israelis.’26 Palestinian feelings of international isolation are also a consequence of the (in)actions of neighbouring Arab states. Military involvement by Arab forces, principally Egypt, Syria and Iraq, during the 1948 and 1967 wars in particular, which were partly driven by their own desires for the territory, had disastrous consequences for the Palestinians. In the space of 20 years the Palestinians went from living as a majority in Palestine, to being under the control of Egypt and Jordan and, post 1967, Israel. Despite periodic outbursts of protest from Muslim national governments, it is felt by Palestinians, and by many Muslims in other countries, that there has been a general lack of concerted effort in addressing Palestinian problems.27 The peace treaty between Egypt and Israel in 1979 further undermined Arab unity on occupied territories and has had a lasting impression upon Palestinian expectations from other nation-states, both Western and Muslim. In other words, the lack of progress for liberation has gradually contributed to a belief that autonomy can only be achieved through Palestinians’ actions. Religion in the Territories The outcome of the 1967 war also had a large impact upon perceptions of religion. For many Jews, victory was a sign that God was supporting them and the capture of land, particularly in the West Bank, was seen as reclamation of territory that was central to the biblical Land of Israel. This linkage between events and religious doctrine helped bring about greater levels of religiosity within Israel’s Judaism, and the intertwining of religion and nationalism was strengthened. The captured land also enabled Israel to subsequently implement the settlement programme, relocating Jews into the occupied territories, for pragmatic and religious reasons. As a consequence the future of the territories has attracted considerable political debate within Israel, with ultra nationalist parties in particular vehemently opposed to the withdrawal or deconstruction of the settlements. At the same time that many Israelis considered the 1967 victory to be a sign of legitimacy from God, many Muslims considered defeat to be the opposite. The humiliation of the easy defeat and loss of land suggested to many the bankruptcy of secular Arab nationalism, epitomised by the Egyptian leader, Gamal Abdel Nasser. This seemed to show, across Muslim nation-states but particularly to those in the region, that secular nationalism was inappropriate for Muslims; it had failed to achieve its promises. Thus the Arabs were considered to have lost not from the influence of religion, which had been widely considered responsible for the decline of the last Muslim Empire, but from being insufficiently Islamic. Conversely therefore, the 1967 war legitimised both Judaism and Islam for many Jews and Muslims.

26 Abbas is quoted in Seitz (2004). 27 Further details can be found in Abu-Amr (1994), Kepel (2004b) and Tamimi (2007).

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This did not mean that secularisation was quickly displaced. Palestinian groups continued to use secular discourse, although there was a greater reliance on religion to justify their actions, which has subsequently contributed to greater religiosity. Defeat in the 1967 war did not immediately lead to the same mobilisation of religious sentiments that happened in other parts of the Middle East. Until the election of Hamas in 2006, the primary representatives of the Palestinians have been the secular Palestinian Liberation Organisation (PLO), established by the Arab League in 1964. Following the 1967 war, younger Palestinians took over the organisation and it became more independent from neighbouring Arab states. The emphasis changed from the discredited Arab to Palestinian nationalism. And with the failure of more conventional military action, new groups of Palestinians and associated sympathisers like the PFLP and Black September formed. New techniques of violence were adopted, such as plane hijacking and hostage taking, most notoriously at the 1972 Munich Olympics. The groups were secular and attracted considerable international publicity. But while the PFLP continues to operate, these groups have failed to broadly engage with the Palestinian population and did not achieve the ultimate objective of independence. Secular groups were further undermined towards the latter stages of Arafat’s leadership (1969–2004). The PLO became associated with a multitude of negative factors that included the failure of the peace process, loss of credibility over concessions offered to achieve independence and association with corruption, human rights’ violations, bureaucratic ineptitude and failing public services.28 Such problems provided opportunities for other groups both to provide services that the PA could not, and to attract support for opposition to the Israeli occupation. By comparison with the PA’s seeming powerlessness against Israeli military actions, groups committing acts of terrorism against both Israeli military and civilians were seen to be defenders of the Palestinian cause, able to quickly mobilise support (Kepel, 2004b). As a consequence of these different factors, the power and influence of the PLO and PA, and the legitimacy of the concept of nationalist secularisation, have been seriously undermined. Arafat’s successor, Mahmoud Abbas, has struggled to overcome the problems he inherited. These factors have created a power vacuum and void within civil society that other groups have been able to further utilise. During this period when the legitimacy of secular nationalism had been seriously undermined through association with contemporary and long-standing problems, Islam, in a predominantly moderate form, remained popular. Religion continued to be practised in the private sphere. It was a key component of identities within the family, embedded within socialising processes that transmitted norms, values and practices from older to younger generations. During the 1980s, the radicalisation of religion began to be noticeable as Islamic groups like Hamas and PIJ emerged, and dissatisfaction about the PLO’s policies and the movement towards diplomacy became more noticeable. For the first time the conflict with Israel was Islamicised. At a support level, the groups provided essential services to communities. Hamas in particular has utilised connections with the Muslim Brotherhood to supply, through 28 A more detailed discussion of these points can be found in Abu-Amr (1994), Kepel (2004a), Reuter (2004), Saarnivaara (2004) and Saikal (2003).


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extensive networks, a broad range of businesses and social services, including education, employment, health, housing and food.29 Yesin in particular had been instrumental during the 1970s in the development of an Islamic infrastructure.30 These services31 are part of a triple track approach that enabled Hamas to undertake violent actions and provide critical welfare to the local population. This approach helps explain recent electoral successes, most notably in January 2006 when they were elected as the governing party. As Esposito (2002: 94) notes: ‘Hamas combined its religious message with social reform, which attracted the older generation, and with resistance and jihad, which spoke to the frustrations and fury of Palestinian youth.’ The loss of faith in international support, and Hamas’ and Islamic Jihad’s focus on national issues like liberation from Israeli occupation, moral bankruptcy, oppression, injustice and Islamification of Palestinian society, should not detract from the impact of global events upon the radicalisation of Palestinians. For example, the 1979 Iranian revolution was instrumental in the formation of Hamas and Islamic Jihad, despite sectarian differences. Many Muslims realised the mobilising potential of radical religion and the use of the concept of jihad. Ayatollah Khomeini was also extremely influential in his use of ijtihad (independent reasoning) that placed greater power in the hands of temporal interpreters of religious knowledge that had previously been considered, particularly by Sunnis, closed in the tenth century. This allowed religious figures, both qualified and self-declared in the case of many militants, to re-interpret Islamic doctrine according to contemporary conditions. Other international events have also been influential in strengthening the legitimacy of Islam as a militant ideology and military force. For instance, the success of the Afghan Mujaheddin, and the self-proclaimed central role of the foreign fighters, against the Soviet Union between 1979 and 1989 contributed to a growing sense that militarised Islam could be the solution to localised and international problems. Ironically at the time, as Kepel (2004b: 36) observes, the centrality of Afghanistan to the militant movement meant that during the 1980s attention shifted away from the Palestinians’ conflict. Subsequently the role of Hezbollah in the Israeli army’s withdrawal from Southern Lebanon contributed to, and helped galvanise, the second intifada, as frustration with the stalled peace process mounted. At a pragmatic level, the Palestinian groups have received considerable political and financial support across Muslim nation-states and communities, particularly in the Gulf, that is used for both military activities and social provisions.32 29 For further details, see Abu-Amr (1994), Juergensmeyer (2003a), Saarnivaara (2004) and Tamimi (2007). 30 Believing that a stronger Brotherhood would diminish the PLO’s influence (who were then considered the main threat), it has been reported that Israel provided support (Oliver and Steinberg, 2005). 31 The precise level of services provided by the religious groups in the Gaza Strip and West Bank territories is difficult to determine. Roy (2000) suggested that the groups provide between 10 and 40 per cent of all social institutions. Today, with the territories facing severe financial constraints, this figure will have risen. 32 For further details, see Abu-Amr (1994), Juergensmeyer (2003a), Levitt (2006), Reuter (2004) and Victor (2004).

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Socialising Palestinian Militants Interwoven with perceptions of international relations are socialising processes that are taking place at a local level, where Muslims internalise religious values and beliefs in conditions that place considerable emphasis upon communal identities and loyalties. With limited geographical mobility, particularly for the poorly educated, people’s social networks tend to be restricted to their area and consist of family and friends who share similar experiences and life chances. The intensity of these localised networks contributes to Palestinians developing strong attachments both to spatialities and social relations. This process commences for children within families, most visibly and notoriously exemplified by parents who dress babies and toddlers as suicide bombers, with other children playing while strapped with artificial suicide belts.33 There is widespread support for national liberation. This is communicated from adults to children, with many of the former encouraging the latter to become involved in some capacity. For example, MacDonald (1991: 71–2) reports on a mother who kicks her eight-year-old son and tells him to ‘get out and fight with your brothers and sisters’. Victor (2004) identified the role of various family members in the recruitment of female suicide bombers. However, the radicalisation of Palestinians is not simply an intergenerational phenomenon, because radical children adopting the views and behaviour of militant parents would mean that widespread radicalisation has existed for much longer. And as Post, Sprinzak and Denny (2003) point out, the majority of both secular and Islamic ‘terrorists’ come from families whose levels of activism are average or less. In the study, just over 30 per cent of militant Muslims and 15 per cent of secular ‘terrorists’ were brought up by families who shared similar beliefs. Like other parts of the world, education within the territories has become increasingly institutionalised, organised by governments or religious groups. During the 1930s and 1940s, the Muslim Brotherhood sought to spread knowledge about Islam through da’wa. Attempts to convert and strengthen religious commitment and behaviour were extended beyond the mosque across society, into schools, youth centres, factories and offices. In other words, religious influence was no longer restricted to traditional realms or personnel. Education became an instrumental feature of this approach across the Middle East. Younger generations, and even adults, are likely to encounter more radical views through exposure to institutions like schools, youth clubs, summer camps, adult education centres, libraries, nursery schools and kindergartens often organised by Hamas. These learning centres are part of Hamas’ approach to the conflict and jihad which requires ‘the propagation of Islamic consciousness among the masses on all local, Arab and Islamic levels … It is necessary to instill in the minds of the Muslim generations that the Palestinian problem is a religious problem and should be dealt with on that basis’ (Hamas Charter, 1988). The Charter34 formalises Hamas’ commitment which had been 33 Discussed in Oliver and Steinberg (2005). 34 Tamimi (2007) points out that the Charter is written in strong religious terms, and many subsequent publications have been more covertly political in tone to try to attract a greater cross-section of ideological supporters and to address criticisms of anti-Semitism.


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developing in preceding years. Tamimi (2007) details how Sheikh Yassin utilised his position as a teacher to begin the process of transforming Palestinian society in the early 1970s. Through teaching in schools and public lectures, he was able to generate popular support around an Islamic banner from which the group could subsequently build and extend their activities. In some respects, Hamas are able to connect into Muhammed’s legacy of learning for Muslims, with education aimed at both enhancing levels of knowledge and shaping identities. And while Hamas are closely associated with religious education, Fatah recognises the centrality of Islam within Palestinian culture. Religion has been utilised to strengthen collective identities in a manner that enhances its own religious credentials without reinforcing the legitimacy of Hamas. As the following chapter details, this is an extremely difficult balancing act. Within mosques, many imams can be seen to be undertaking a socialising role, lambasting the West and Israel and advocating the fight for Islam. Hamas and PIJ both have arrangements in place to recruit members at mosques (Burdman, 2003). Mosques more generally also have an important role to play within the broad spectrum of religiosity, with worship and religious festivals generating bonds of solidarity and symbolism across the territories. However the scope of mosques is restricted to influencing attending worshippers. Mosques can be subjected to surveillance by the Palestinian police (although this tends to depend on the loyalties of the security personnel) and the Israeli government, limiting opportunities to recruit. In addition many imams are moderate and opposed to acts of terrorism. Militant groups are therefore aware of the need to have more extensive socialising networks and are embedded within social relations and activities. Within this broader strategic framework, ‘an Islamic education based on the implementation of religious precepts, on the conscientious study of the Book of Allah …’ is integral (Hamas, 1988). This emphasis upon education is reflected in the growing penetration of Islamic institutions within the territories, with both schools35 and universities heavily influenced by militants. In kindergartens, Oliver and Steinberg (2005: 60) suggest that children are taught aggressive songs and chants. They report on an exchange between teacher and pupils. The teacher asks, ‘Who is the enemy who stole our country’ and the children reply ‘The Jews’. And in response to a question about what should be done with the Jews, the children exclaim ‘strike them with stones’. Many radical teachers prove to be instrumental in providing meaning and explanation for Palestinian experiences within schools through academic methods that are commonplace across the Middle East, relying upon memorisation, recitation and uncritical acceptance of Islam. A study by Burdman (2003) into Palestinian children and martyrdom found school literature with numerous references to a religious obligation to fight for ‘Palestine’, sacrifice, and anti-Semitic and anti-Zionist statements. MacDonald (1991: 85) discussed reasons for joining the first intifada and was told, ‘Everyone was angry, However, despite this change of approach, it can be argued that the religious sentiments remain prominent, if understated. 35 The PA’s Ministry of Education has estimated that in the Gaza Strip, 65 per cent of educational institutions below secondary level are provided by Islamic institutions (International Crisis Group, 2003).

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especially at school because there we learned that the whole world was free except us’. Teachers’ roles are also not restricted to teaching pupils about radical Islam. Victor (2004) details their involvement in recruiting school children to undertake terror activities. In higher education, some lecturers are also influential and student movements have a central role in recruiting support amongst their peers in places of higher education like al-Najah University.36 The focus upon socialisation also includes women who are seen to ‘carry out the most important duty of caring for the home and raising the children upon the moral concepts and values which derive from Islam, and of educating their sons to observe the religious injunctions in preparation for the duty of jihad awaiting them’. As part of this approach, Hamas’ Charter (1988) has emphasised teaching girls to manage the household and to become ‘righteous mothers, who are conscious of their duties in the war of liberation’. Militant groups have also adapted to the extended penetration of the media as a socialising agent. For example, Hamas seeks to utilise different forms to challenge what they consider to be Jewish-dominated images and narratives. The deportation of Palestinians in 1992 provided Hamas, in particular, with considerable media exposure that it was able to utilise to counter the widespread opinion that they were the aggressors. Since then, groups have become more sophisticated in attempts to manage the media, and television pictures, reports and discussions have grown in importance as a consequence of satellite technology. Militant groups now own their own channels as part of attempts to overcome what are seen as global American and Zionist media control. These channels transmit programmes that support their discourse, even to the extent of broadcasting children’s programmes, cartoons, songs and music videos that promote violence37 and the symbolism of childhood martyrdom,38 and glorify bombers like Wafa Idris, the first female bomber of the second intifada. Modern technology has also transformed means of direct communication, with information and Internet chat-rooms utilised to transmit messages and values. Information and emotive images are also disseminated through cassettes, CDs, videos and DVDs that utilise anthems to generate support. Traditional methods of communication like the press remain influential and provide very negative images of America and Israel. Graffiti also continues to be a popular method of expressing political and religious sentiments for wider consumption. Abu-Amr (1994: 78) reports on messages like ‘No to the Jewish entity’, ‘Islam is the solution’, ‘the International conference is treason’ and ‘O Jews, Muhammad’s army will return’. And as Oliver and Steinberg (2005) report, graffiti is also used to transmit information about boycotts, protests and strikes and to warn possible collaborators of the consequences of their actions. The life-span of the messages tends to be limited. Graffiti in popular areas is quickly

36 Al-Najah University is considered to be the most radical institution, supplying at least 135 suicide bombers between 2000 and 2003 (Victor, 2004). 37 For example, in a Palestinian TV programme recorded on 2 May 2001, the narrator tells seven- and eight-year-old children that ‘the time for toys and games is over, throw away your toys, pick up rocks’ (quoted in Burdman, 2003: 103). 38 Burdman (2003: 104) draws attention to a clip shown on PATV in 1998, which showed a military camp for children who repeated after the coach, ‘Children of my country, I am the suicide squad’.


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painted over by the IDF or replaced by rival groups. Through these different methods of communication, Palestinians, like the majority of the world, are now provided with information and graphic images about events and policies that can contribute to widespread feelings of anger and incapacitation. And as in other parts of the world, peers are instrumental in the development of identities. In the Palestinian territories this means they are influential in processes of radicalisation. For example, Post, Sprinzak and Denny’s study (2003) of Palestinians in prison found that the peer group was of considerable influence in the decision to undertake terror activities. Abu-Amr (1994) has also reported on the recruitment by Islamic Jihad of prisoners in Israeli prisons. And as Tamimi (2007) reports, the deportation of large numbers of militants in 1992 to Southern Lebanon provided opportunities that had not previously been available to meet, share ideas and formulate strategy. In a pattern that is noticeable across the different groups under investigation within this book, the injuries received by, or deaths of, friends was an important mobilising factor in the decision to join the militant groups or undertake acts of terrorism. Similar patterns are noticeable in other religio-nationalist conflicts. For example, Lieven (1998) points out that many of the Chechen volunteers fighting the Russian military consisted of friends and neighbours fighting alongside each other. Changes in socialisation processes can therefore be seen to provide Palestinian Muslims with exposure to radical Islamic discourse and, as will shortly be established, local and international events and experiences. Simply being aware of militant Islam does not inevitably result in them becoming radicalised, joining groups or committing acts of violence. This only happens if the information is legitimised. Within the Palestinian territories, legitimisation of radical discourse can happen through interpretive interplay between historical and recent events surrounding the formation of Israel, the failure to achieve Palestinian liberation through peaceful means and by personal or friends’ experiences. Experiences include: humiliation at omnipresent roadblocks, regular sealing off of towns, death, arrest or detention of family members and friends, employment restrictions, malnourishment, poverty, brutality, destruction of property and witnessed national and global events through the media, as discussed above. The cross-cutting nature of these issues helps explain the diverse support base and membership of the Palestinian militant groups. By contrast, Merari’s (1991, 1998) study of PLO ‘terrorists’ captured during the 1982 Lebanon War found that they were from poor refugee camps and relatively uneducated. Today, the organisations attract a broad range of supporters and activists. For instance, the popularity of Hamas is spread across poor areas, municipal and professional associations, chambers of commerce and student associations, with leaders including religious officials, professionals and technocrats (Abu-Amr, 1994; Esposito, 2002). Local and individual experiences and events, like the death of twelve-year-old Mohammed al Dirrah39 on the second day of the second intifada, personal encounters and international events have combined to impact upon different groups of Muslims. 39 The death of the child has been dramatised on Palestinian television. In the post death scenes, the boy informs his father, ‘I shall go to my place in heaven, how sweet is the fragrance of the Martyrs’ (Burdman, 2003: 104).

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Experiences across socio-economic spheres and witnessed events are contributing to a mixture of emotions.40 The outcome of these feelings, often allied to personal experiences and problems with relationships, and awareness of militant discourse, can be seen in the decision by some Palestinians to become suicide bombers, from across the socio-economic spectrum. Recent studies41 of the backgrounds of suicide bombers show that the majority have average or higher levels of education, with jobs. None of the interviewees in Hassan’s (2001) study were identified as very poor, weak-minded or depressed, while support for terror actions is greatest from the middle classes.42 A reflective example is provided by Ismail Masawabi, who killed himself in 2002. In his ‘living will’ he stated, ‘just standing there and watching our Muslim people being slaughtered is a dirty game that I will not tolerate … Therefore … I prefer to meet God and leave humankind behind’ (quoted in Reuter, 2004: 91). The late political head of Hamas, Abdul Aziz Rantisi, expressed similar views when suggesting, ‘to die in this way [bombing Israelis] is better than to die daily in frustration and humiliation’.43 Revenge and self-defence are also common sentiments expressed in defence of these attacks. Sheikh Sayyid Tantawi, the Grand Sheikh of Al-Azhar, includes both points when arguing, ‘what Israel is doing inside the Palestinian territories would only drive any Muslim to seek revenge and act in self-defence’ through the act of ‘exploding himself’.44 Contrary to popular opinion, therefore, to become a suicide bomber is not achieved by ‘brainwashing’ and simply over-zealous beliefs; as Kamhawi suggests, ‘it definitely takes more than belief in God to turn a boy [or girl] into a martyr. It takes desperation, anger, loss of hope.’45 The advent of the intifadas has also contributed to different roles and perceptions of women within the patriarchal Palestinian society.46 During both intifadas, women have been prominent, providing community welfare while participating in demonstrations, being members of committees, organising riots, acting as lookouts, confronting the Israeli military, smuggling weapons and being part of groups and/or activities (Haddad, 2004; Israeli, 2004; MacDonald 1991). During the 1970s, women also participated in Palestinian terrorism, most notably Laila Khaled who remains one of the most famous figures associated with terrorism. However, the involvement of these women was generally limited and restricted to secular groups like the PFLP. Oliver and Steinberg (2005) provide an illustrative example about the differing perceptions and roles of women when comparing the returns to the territories of Yasser Arafat and Sheikh Yassin. The former was greeted by whole families, husbands, wives and children, while the crowd that welcomed Yassin was almost entirely male. Since the 1990s, the increased involvement of women 40 Further information about these feelings can be found in Davis (2003), Esposito (2002), Kimhi and Even (2004), Post, Sprinzak and Denny (2003) and Victor (2004). 41 Studies include Hassan (2001), Krueger and Malecková (2003b) and Shiqaqi (2001). 42 Bloom (2005) details how support for ‘martyrdom operations’ dropped considerably during periods when hopes for long-lasting peace were high. Since 2000, the lack of optimism about the prospects for peace is accompanied by greater endorsement of the use of terrorism. 43 Rantisi’s comments were raised in an interview with Juergensmeyer (2003a: 71). 44 Tantawi is quoted in Tamimi (2007: 171). 45 Kamhawi’s remarks are reported in Davis (2003: 104). 46 For further information, see Bloom (2005), Davis (2003) and Victor (2004).


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and the advent of female suicide bombers shows, unsurprisingly, that they are also experiencing the sense of hopelessness and despair that permeates the territories. In a statement that fits the feelings of many Palestinian militants, Teoria Hamori, a failed bomber, accounted for her intentions by explaining that ‘since I was a baby, all I have seen is war, dead people, hatred and blood. From the beginning of the Intifada I have followed what is happening and I have seen only blood and killing and Palestinian children who are being killed … I will give my body for the Palestinian cause.’47 Indeed it could be argued that women’s circumstances are also exacerbated by the patriarchal nature of Palestinian society.48 In addition to the factors that motivate men, some female bombers appear to have been motivated by personal frustrations that are tied into gender perceptions. For example, Wafa Idris was unable to conceive children. As Kimhi and Even (2004: 852) argue, studies indicate that ‘among women suicide bombers, there is more exploitation of personal problems and deviant behaviour (according to the Palestinian women’s code of conduct) which places them at the margins of Palestinian society’. For these women, blowing themselves up in the name of Palestinian independence is considered a means of personal redemption which regains family honour. Restraints imposed upon women can be found throughout society and are even noticeable in the manner in which female suicide bombers have been utilised by Hamas, Islamic Jihad and the al-Aqsa Brigade. These personal examples highlight that many individuals are embedded within communities that are supportive and indeed active49 in the struggle for liberation, motivated through experiences to undertake terror actions. Today, many Palestinians belong to ‘a generation that lost its childhood in the first Intifada, and its adolescence was truncated by the suffocating closures of Oslo [agreement]’ (Hass, 2003b: 151). These experiences have had a huge influence on the development of militant consciousness. As one Palestinian remarked in Reuter’s study (2004: 84) of modern suicide bombing, ‘every child here is fed on anger – they suck it in with their mother’s milk – and at some point the pressure becomes unbearable’. And like adults, the children’s feelings are not restricted to poorer communities. A respondent in Victor’s study (2004: 183) highlighted this when pointing out that ‘we live a privileged life in Gaza. My villa is never bombarded and we have plenty of food and luxuries. Imagine my surprise when they came home and asked me to buy them guns saying we want “to defend our country. We want to die for Palestine.”’ Studies of support for terror attacks also reflect middle class engagement. Krueger and Malecková (2003b) found that 94.2 and 95.7 per cent of merchants and farmers and professionals and students respectively endorsed terror attacks against Israeli soldiers, compared with 89.9 per

47 Quoted in Kimhi and Even (2004: 828). 48 Since 1993, the women’s movement has been unable to secure significant improvements in their human and civil rights from the PA. Gender equality was given a much lower priority behind national liberation and has been targeted by Hamas as a secular imposition that hinders re-Islamisation (Israeli, 2004; Milton-Edwards, 2004). 49 Post, Sprinzak and Denny’s study (2003) found that over 75 per cent of both secular and militant Muslim members grew up in communities that were radically involved in the struggle.

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cent of unemployed people. And such is the intoxicating atmosphere permeating through the territories that even children visiting the region are affected. One of MacDonald’s (1991: 78) respondents explains, ‘My three-year-old nephew was visiting from America recently and he had been here only one week when he came up to ask me how to make a submachine-gun. He said he would use it to kill the soldiers and began to sing one of the songs “With our blood, with our souls, we will defend Palestine.”’ The socialisation of today’s children and their living conditions offer little hope that militancy will diminish in the near future. Children are growing up (and indeed the children of the first intifada are now adults) surrounded by experiences and group-created images of violence and retaliation, with the constant fear of attack, sharing the sense of incapacitation, and disrupted education. Srour (2005) discovered that children exposed to political violence may be more inclined to develop behavioural problems and certain emotions like fear and rage that can contribute to both aggression or depression and withdrawal. Post traumatic stress disorder, which can cause severe emotional problems and lead to neuroticism, high risk-taking and low self-esteem, is not uncommon (Burdman, 2003; Elsarraj, 1997; Moughrabi). Within these environments, violence has been normalised. Relationships with Israelis are dominated by perceptions of the conflict, with little or no opportunity for Palestinians in the territories to meet Israeli citizens, which would help break down the stereotypes and ignorance that exists between the two populations. Hass (2003b: 151) believes that ‘for this generation, Israel is no more than a subsidiary of an army that knows no limits and settlements that know no borders’. And viewing the dominant military force with fear is contributing to many Palestinians turning to the militant groups for protection. Violent deaths have become part of common experiences and are represented within local cultures. Palestinian culture, including that experienced by children, has been widely penetrated by the concept of martyrdom. Bombers posthumously become heroes and heroines. They are revered, with their images plastered on walls and lampposts throughout the territories, distributed on pocket-sized cards, used to illustrate ‘martyr of the month’ calendars, their pre-attack announcements visually recorded, honoured in public funerals and within children’s chanting. Their deaths cause celebration in local communities, feelings of pride and higher status within immediate families50 who are congratulated, often provided with material and financial support, and sweets distributed amongst large gatherings of well-wishers. These feelings and experiences are leading to children fantasising over their own deaths and playing intifada. Oliver and Steinberg (2005: 60) report children walking through the streets of Gaza, chanting: 50 The position of remaining family members after the martyrdom of one of their children is rather complex. Many parents express joy, possibly in part because, as Reuter (2004) suggests, to express other emotions could be seen as a betrayal both of their child’s death and the Palestinian struggle, and take solace from the possibility of the child’s salvation. Parents also experience considerable pain and anguish, and some families have attempted to prevent other offspring from being recruited (Burdman, 2003; Davis, 2003; MacDonald, 1991; Post, Sprinzak and Denny, 2003; Reuter, 2004; and Victor, 2004).


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O mother, my religion has called me to jihad and self-sacrifice O mother, I am marching toward immortality; I will never retreat O mother, don’t cry over me if I am shot down, laid out on the ground For death is my path; martyrdom, my desire.

Many stated they want to become martyrs. In the eventuality of this happening they may, as Andalib Suleiman, a female suicide bomber believed, die as superstars.51 The outcome of these socialising processes in conditions that legitimise messages is, as the Palestinian psychiatrist Iyad Sarraj observed, that ‘our children are being taught in the mosques, on television, and in schools to die’.52 But the involvement of the individual in the decision-making process and the requirement of terror organisations to maintain supportive links with the Palestinian communities mean that it is incorrect to argue that ‘suicide bombers … were brainwashed into seeking “martyrdom”’ (Haber, 2001: 2). Nor, Silke (2003) points out, is there any evidence to support the widely reported belief that the attackers are mentally ill, drunk or drugged. Instead, as Hassan (2001) observes, the most notable aspect of the suicide attackers is their normality. Increasingly, however, there are signs that the ‘wall’ and other forms of Israeli ‘counter-terrorism’ are significantly reducing opportunities for suicide bombers. Yet the pressures that contributed to motivations to desire martyrdom remain. With increasingly restricted scope for terror attacks against Israeli targets, it seems likely that ‘Islamic’ terrorism will need to adopt different forms. There is also a distinct possibility that deteriorating economic and political conditions within the territories will contribute to the exacerbation of internal conflicts (discussed below). Conclusion Many of the 5.3 million Palestinians living in the territories can be seen to be internalising more radical Muslim beliefs that they learn through a variety of socialising agents. Today these processes are commencing during childhood, with children exposed to deeply rooted beliefs that are communicated by a range of family, friends, media and schools. Through these interactions, children are informed about the conflict and provided with explanations. Many children are internalising militant discursive consciousness because this is being legitimised at a number of levels: • • • •

By perceived historical successes of Islamic empires within local and international contexts; By contemporary actions of groups like Hamas and PIJ, who carry out attacks against Israeli targets in the name of liberation and religion; By pragmatic support provided by Hamas to the community; By people’s negative experiences within the territories that provide their central frame of reference;

51 Further details about these issues are raised in Post, Sprinzak and Denny (2003), Reuter (2004), Vertigans (2004), Victor (2004) and Westcott (2002). 52 Sarraj’s comments were raised in an interview with Victor (2004: 119).


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•

Conversely, militant Islam has also been legitimised through Hamas’ and PIJ’s lack of involvement in contemporary national problems prior to the former’s election to government, which may contribute to its de-legitimisation53 as a militant force, and the perception that other national and international ways of achieving meaningful autonomy have been exhausted or discredited.

This multi-layered legitimacy has strengthened people’s commitment to Islam and contributed to the greater prominence of radicalisation and willingness to be recruited as suicide bombers. Recruitment to militant groups is being undertaken by different socialising agents and includes friends and family members, such as brothers, uncles and cousins. Socialising processes are taking place in contexts where martyrdom has widely penetrated popular culture and is no longer unusual but often expected and/ or desired. Generations of Palestinians have now grown up in similar conditions, reinforcing levels of anger, hostility and collective identities, making compromise increasingly difficult and recruitment to militancy easier. Following recruitment, individuals become involved in terror groups and, if necessary, agree to die, both socially for the Palestinian and ultimately Islamic cause, and individually to achieve everlasting life through salvation. These actions are not therefore simply about the individual achieving martyrdom for the sake of salvation, as Haddad (2004: 341) has argued. There is a combination of altruistic and egotistical motivating factors inspired by experiences and often allied to a fatalism caused by strict regulation imposed by both Israeli military forces and militant Palestinian groups (Pedahzur and Perliger, 2003; Sutton and Vertigans, 2005). Muna Abu Aisha, sister of Darine who blew herself up in 2002, stated, ‘she knew she would go to Paradise and she understood that by becoming a shahida [female martyr] she would help liberate our land’.54 However, Khosrokhavar (2005) argues that the optimism of the first intifada has been replaced by fatalistic pessimism that a Palestinian nation cannot be built. Martyrdom is therefore an escape from the futility of the cause and a fear that the future will be even worse than the present. However, recent Israeli counter-terrorism strategies have seriously limited the number of martyrdom attacks. Arguably, the prevention of this outlet for violence, and indeed for terror attacks more generally, is leading to a re-evaluation of the campaigns for independence and is contributing to greater internal pressures. Today, conditions within the territories seem particularly chaotic and fractured. Since being elected in 2006, the Hamas government has struggled to address the overwhelming problems inherited from its Fatah predecessors, hugely in debt, with a massive bureaucracy and security services with mixed loyalties. These problems have been severely exacerbated by the refusal of many foreign nation-states to acknowledge the democratically elected government or to provide aid. In this stalemate, the 53 Hamas’ position within the government means that the transformation of the organisation continues and, as Tilly (1992) has pointed out, with regards to other organisations, makes the party more responsible for, and accountable to, the wishes of the Palestinian population. 54 Comments by Muna Abu Aisha were quoted in Victor (2004: 103).


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discordance between the Hamas government and Fatah intensified, resulting in considerable in-fighting between the Palestinian groups. The outcome has been the consolidation of Hamas in Gaza and attempts by Fatah to place greater emphasis upon strongholds in the West Bank. With the chances of a political solution further weakened by the lack of a universally recognised leadership with legitimacy both to make tough decisions and secure popular support for them, a viable Palestinian nation-state remains a distant possibility. In other words, experiences of social processes and conditions seem likely to continue to legitimise acts of political violence for the foreseeable future.


Chapter 3

International ‘Islamic’ Terrorism: Al-Qa’ida and Related Groups Introduction Following the Oslo peace process, the optimism surrounding opportunities for peace contributed to Palestinian liberation receiving only limited attention from international militants. Indeed until the emergence of Palestinian Islamic Jihad (PIJ) and Hamas in the 1980s, militant Islam per se had only limited involvement in the conflict. As the previous chapter established, militant Islam is now extremely influential within the territories, but the groups are Muslim nationalists. There are signs of Hezbollah’s influence and involvement from neighbouring Lebanon, but al-Qa’ida does not have a foothold in the area. Despite ingenious attempts by Israeli and American political leaders to establish relationships, Hamas and PIJ are not, at this stage, affiliated with the transnational movement. Palestinians have joined al-Qa’ida and a number have become prominent figures in the transnational movement, including most notably Abdallah Azzam.1 These figures, however, joined as individuals and did not establish formal connections between Palestinian groups and al-Qa’ida. It is therefore important to clearly distinguish between al-Qa’idarelated groups and the Palestinian Islamo-nationalists, before concentrating on the social processes behind the emergence of transnational Islamic terrorism. From ‘Near’ to ‘Far’ Enemy Despite the lack of transnational influence within the territories, the Israeli–Palestinian conflict has recently proved to be an instrumental mobilising factor for local and international terror groups affiliated with al-Qa’ida. However, frequent references to the conflict by representatives of al-Qa’ida, particularly post September 2001, should not obscure clear distinctions between the groups. There are considerable differences between the Palestinian groups and those associated with al-Qa’ida that the crude generalisations within the ‘War on Terror’ cannot grasp. For example, Hamas has condemned both the September 2001 attacks in America and the use of the Palestinian conflict by al-Qa’ida for their own ends (Davis, 2003; Saarnivaara, 2004). Hamas and PIJ are pursuing national liberation against a backdrop of 1 Abdallah Azzam (1941–89) was Osama bin Laden’s mentor at university in Saudi Arabia and during the Afghan war against the Soviet Union. He is thought to have first introduced the concept ‘al-Qa’ida’ to describe the group’s activities (Burke, 2003). Azzam was killed in 1989 in suspicious circumstances.

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generations of suppression, human rights violations and economic and social deprivation and are widely supported within the territories. Al-Qa’ida and associated groups’ aims are much more vague and international in scope, with references made to issues like the need for the global ummah, withdrawal of the West from places like Afghanistan, Iraq and Saudi Arabia, crusader-Zionist plots, injustice against the Palestinians, international jihad in places like Bosnia, Chechnya, Kosovo, Kashmir, Central Asia and the Philippines, and concerns about immorality. Martin (2003: 234) has suggested that al-Qa’ida ‘has two overarching goals: to link together Muslim extremist groups throughout the world into a loose pan-Islamic revolutionary network and to expel non-Muslim (especially Western) influences from Islamic regions and countries’.2 In some respects actions undertaken by groups associated with al-Qa’ida and their symbolic importance have become a central component of the militants’ strategy (Sutton and Vertigans, 2006). The classical terror tactic of ‘propaganda by the deed’3 has been utilised to achieve a number of likely objectives: for global publicity of their capability and ideology; to appeal to potential supporters; and to inflict maximum casualties on the enemy4 which will provoke retaliatory reactions, leading to potential supporters becoming alienated from mainstream societies. These aims can help explain a number of ‘Islamic’ terror attacks in recent years which, whilst often undertaken for different short-term objectives, need to be considered in the longer term. From this perspective, the attacks on America were ‘the successful implementation of a predefined and long-range strategy’ (Kepel, 2004b: 71) that raised al-Qa’ida’s profile and inspired an international backlash, although the ferocity of this may have been underestimated.5 Attacks in London and Madrid appear to have also been designed to highlight the ideology’s potential. At a local level there are grounds to believe that the actions aimed to result in a deterioration of racial and ethnic relations that will contribute to Muslims becoming radicalised; an outcome which militants could then retrospectively argue provides the justification for the initial bombings. However, ambiguity exists over the groups’ ultimate intentions. For example, what is the overarching objective for societies and the world, how could this be achieved and how would existing national and international problems be addressed? Both this lack of clarity and greater confusion about the reasoning behind terror actions has contributed to the reasons why people become associated with alQa’ida being difficult to comprehend. In other words, by comparison, knowledge

2 Bin Laden (1996) outlines this reasoning in an explanation for bombings in Riyadh in 1995. He stressed that the most important outcome of the attack was that people ‘became more aware that their main problems were caused by the American occupiers and their puppets in the Saudi regime’. 3 Two anarchists, the Russian Peter Kropotkin (1842–1921) and the Italian Errico Mazzini (1853–1932) have both been attributed with inventing the phrase. 4 Al-Zawahiri’s emphasis (2001) upon causing maximum casualties highlights a break with traditional theories about terrorism, which were based around restricting the potential number of people killed and injured. 5 In light of the militants’ self-declared success in the war against the Soviet Union, there are reasonable grounds to suppose that al-Qa’ida foresaw a similar lengthy battle with America and, of course, a similar outcome.


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about circumstances in the occupied territories has contributed towards greater understanding about why some Palestinians commit acts of political violence. Groups associated with al-Qa’ida are based around the world, with representatives in networks from across Europe, Africa and Asia. Actions and statements are directed at local and international targets as part of a two-pronged approach. A twin-track approach was required that confronted both national ‘near’ and international ‘far’ enemies. The former includes governments of Muslim societies that are considered to be apostate, anti-Islamic and overly influenced by the West, and the latter is America, Israel and the West in general (Hoffman, 2004; Kepel, 2004b). Ultimately, al-Zawahiri has argued that this approach by a vanguard of righteous believers will inspire support from the masses leading to ‘apostate’ regimes collapsing and the creation of the ummah (Kepel, 2004b). In so doing, Qutb’s vanguard role, borrowed from Lenin, has been further adapted. Contemporary transnational militants are intending to be instrumental in transforming other Muslims’ lifestyles and levels of political activism within processes of revolutionary change at the level of individual and social consciousness. As Calvert (2004: 12) points out, with respect to radical Muslims more generally, ‘the Islamic revolution cannot be left to the people because their minds have been contaminated by the alien ideas of decadent forces’. Activists have originated from both Muslim and Western societies, and yet many have committed terrorism in different countries, for example, the 15 Saudis who participated in the 11 September attacks on America. Indeed America’s status as the main ‘far enemy’ is reflected within the amount of attention it receives in al-Qa’idarelated rhetoric and actions. Since 1993, when the first attack on the Twin Towers was undertaken and American forces were killed in Somalia (although the extent to which al-Qa’ida was involved in either instance is contentious), the US has been the militants’ main international target. Similar tactics are employed at ‘near enemies’ like Egypt, Pakistan and Saudi Arabia, with bombings designed to adversely impact on local economies, cause political turmoil and ultimately de-legitimise regimes. Al Qa’ida’s Ideological Roots and Evolution In Chapter 2, the importance of earlier ideologues, in particular Ibn Taymiyya, Qutb and Mawdudi, was outlined for the broad militant movement. Al-Qa’ida’s ideological heritage can also be traced to two other strands of Islam: a. Wahhabism, based upon the austere, puritanical form of Islam propagated by Mohamed ibn Abd al-Wahhab (1703–91) and which in alliance with a tribal chief, Mohamed ibn Sa’ud, dominated most of the Arabian peninsular in the eighteenth century, until defeated by the Ottomans. During the nineteenth century, the Sa’ud family and Wahhabism began to increase territorially, a process which ultimately led to the creation of what is now recognised as Saudi Arabia. Al-Qa’ida have drawn upon the emphasis placed within Wahhabism to restore the golden age of peace and justice. b. The Deobandis, who emerged among Indian Muslims during the nineteenth century and wanted to create a pan-Islamic movement to counter British and

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other European forms of colonialism. The movement is named after the town in which the original medrassa was established. Maulana Qasim Nanotvi, the founder, was concerned about the adaptation of Western ways by Indian Muslims and deviation from the original teachings of Muhammed. By combining these strands, a unique fusion of influences has developed that is not associated with one region. Religious beliefs and justifications have been synthesised with transnationalism and embedded opposition to the West that could be traced to Ibn Taymiyya. The synthesis was more likely to appeal to a cross-section of supporters who became disillusioned both with the societies in which they resided and secular ideologies across Muslim societies from Morocco to Indonesia. And by creating new approaches, leaders were able to re-interpret Muslim concepts and doctrine that accorded with their perceptions.6 This was largely achieved by educated leaders who were familiar with science, engineering, technology and Western political discourse. Consequently, knowledge and experiences were utilised both in developing strategy and ideologies, which can be seen to draw upon concepts and practices from radical left- and right-wing European thought. A brief history of al-Qa’ida outlines how the ideology and militant movement has evolved. However, it should be pointed out, as Marranci’s (2006) research identifies, that many Muslims whose beliefs and jihadi rhetoric have intensified often lack indepth religious knowledge or allegiance to specificities of particular groups. In some extreme instances, people involved in militancy have continued to be engaged in practices that are widely considered to be un-Islamic, for example, drinking alcohol. And as Rashid (2002) points out with respect to Juma Namangani of the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan, leaders often lack Islamic knowledge and are influenced by both the actions and rhetoric of more influential militants, most notably bin Laden, who is himself lacking in formal theological qualifications. Other people become involved in militancy for basic reasons. Burke (2006) identifies members of the Taliban who had been attracted by the offer of food, money and security in exchange for their labour. It can therefore be misleading to assume that a member of a militant Islamic group is inevitably deeply grounded within militancy. Confusion over al-Qa’ida extends to the extent that it exists as a single organisation that can be destroyed through military action in the manner deployed by the American armed forces. From its origins, the focus was upon ideas and actions rather than structure, with attention placed upon a ‘base that was to be composed of individuals committed to the cause who would, through the cumulative weight of their actions, instigate great change’ (Burke, 2003: 2). To understand how this emphasis remains in place today and how the nature of al-Qa’ida has evolved, it is important to examine its origins and transformation from an initial focus on welfare provision during the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan (1979–89) to an international

6 It is also important to stress that while groups within Islamic militancy have much in common, notably a hatred for America, there is also considerable disagreement about ideology, practice and strategy. However, the commitment to jihad provides unity that can overcome differences at this stage in the international struggle.


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movement spreading terror.7 During the war the ‘Afghan Arabs’ (many of whom were not Arabs) were trained in armed combat and logistics, and collectively acquired higher levels of religiosity which were further strengthened when ultimate victory was attributed to Islamic practice.8 And in Afghanistan, the early ‘hardcore’ of al-Qa’ida were formulating the concept of global jihad that would extend beyond the war with the Red Army. As Azzam wrote, ‘This duty [jihad] will not end with victory in Afghanistan; jihad will remain an individual duty until all other lands that were Muslim are returned to us so that Islam will reign again: before us lie Palestine, Bokhara, Lebanon, Chad, Eritrea, Somalia, the Philippines, Burma, Southern Yemen, Tashkent and Andalusia.’9 Azzam, however, sought to limit the struggle to reclaiming former Muslim land, and was opposed to the expansion of the jihad to include attacking Muslim governments, which he considered fitna (sedition, discord between Muslims). Al-Zawahiri in particular is believed to have been critical of this approach and viewed Azzam’s links with the Muslim Brotherhood with contempt (Kepel, 2004b). Following Azzam’s death, the expansion of jihad became integrated within al-Qa’ida’s twin-track approach. After the war ended, the Muslim alliance fractured and civil war ensued between rival Afghan factions. The ‘Afghan Arabs’ returned to their countries of origin, where they struggled to settle. Perceived levels of immorality prevalent within the secularised and secularising nation-states quickly became sources of disenchantment and anger. Experiences in these countries further reinforced radical views and increasingly many sought to utilise the skills developed and networks formed in Afghanistan to challenge their situations (Burke, 2003; Orbach, 2001; Rashid, 2000). In some respects Bin Laden shared these post war experiences. At the end of the conflict he was held in high regard by the Arab fighters for his commitment, support and piety.10 After the war, he remained physically and ideologically close to a significant number of these fighters, many of whom became part of around 100 highly motivated and trained activists at the centre of al-Qa’ida that Burke (2003: 13) calls the ‘hardcore’.11 Following the end of the Afghan war and the breakdown of the indigenous alliance into warring factions, bin Laden returned to Saudi Arabia. Like many other Mujaheddin, he was dismayed by what was considered to be the irreligious, corrupt 7 Further details can be found in Bergen (2001), Burke (2003), Esposito (2002) and Reeve (1999). 8 The dedication of the Islamic fighters also impacted upon the Soviet army. Rashid (2002: 138) provides the interesting example of Jumaboi Ahmadzhanovitch Khojaev, nom de guerre Juma Namangani, a leader in the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan who had been conscripted to fight against the Afghan Mujaheddin: ‘According to his friends the experience turned him into a “born-again” Muslim.’ 9 Azzam is quoted in Bergen (2001: 57–8). 10 These impressions have been strengthened by the iconography employed within subsequent videos which carefully associate bin Laden with asceticism, bravery, wisdom and religious symbols. 11 Burke (2003) has identified the hardcore as central to the development of al-Qa’ida. The central core has provided trainers, administrators, fighters, recruitment agents and very occasionally operational ‘terrorists’.

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society in which he now lived. His opposition to the Saudi regime became vitriolic when, in 1990, King Fadh invited the United States to protect the country from attack by the Iraqis, who had just invaded neighbouring Kuwait. The presence of American troops on the territory of the two holiest Islamic sites created widespread anger among militants, and many moderates, because it was seen as profaning sacred land. Bin Laden’s opposition led to him being exiled from Saudi Arabia with his citizenship renunciated. Between 1992 and 1996, bin Laden and associates from the war in Afghanistan were based in Sudan, where a number of reputable businesses were established. AlQa’ida as an international terror group was virtually unknown, having achieved little to arouse widespread interest. International attention was directed at localised jihads being undertaken in Algeria and Bosnia, and actions to undermine regimes across Muslim societies. By 1996, Kepel (2004b: 91) points out, ‘local jihads everywhere … were beginning to lose ground’. It was therefore a watershed within militancy, as recent failures were assessed and future strategy determined. At this stage, al-Qa’ida relocated to Afghanistan from Sudan, at the request of the Sudanese government.12 In Afghanistan, bin Laden and the growing al-Qa’ida network developed strategic links with Afghan warlords and most fruitfully established ties with the Taliban, who were to govern large parts of the country. Bin Laden and close associates quickly attracted militants from around the world with offers of sanctuary and training opportunities, at a time when suspected radical Muslims were being imprisoned in many Muslimmajority nation-states. Important links and networks were established with new recruits and re-established amongst returning ‘Arab Afghans’. Many volunteers became trained in warfare and terrorism. In 1996 bin Laden made the declaration of ‘War against the Americans Occupying the Land of the Two Holy Places’ that connected with growing doubts about the potential of local jihads. From this point, a broader strategy became prominent. The declaration outlines the expanding focus upon the main enemy and in particular the requirement to expel America from Saudi Arabia: ‘People of Islam should join forces and support each other to get rid of the main Kufr who is controlling the countries of the Islamic world’ (bin Laden, 1996). Bin Laden cites Ibn Taymiyya in support of the approach being taken: ‘to fight in defence of religion and Belief is a collective duty; there is no other duty after Belief than fighting the enemy who is corrupting the life and the religion’ (ibid). At this stage, though, the emphasis is still upon jihad as a defensive mechanism. In 1998, the fatwa by the World Islamic Front for the Jihad against Jews and Crusaders changed this. Jihad became globally aggressive, taking the fight to the ‘far enemy’. Burke (2006) suggests that bin Laden acknowledged that attempts during the 1990s to rouse support for militancy on a nation-by-nation basis had failed. By transferring attention to a common enemy, it was hoped that cross-cutting allegiances could be established that overcame the parochialism that was apparent within militancy. It was at this stage in al-Qa’ida’s development that the instruction 12 The Sudanese government had become concerned at the international consequences of providing safe havens for Islamic militants who were being associated with international terrorism.


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‘to kill the Americans and their allies – civilians and military – is an individual duty for every Muslim who can do it in any country in which it is possible to do it’ (bin Laden, 1998) was formulated. By declaring the fatwa, the militants sought to mobilise and unite opposition around militancy and against the West. References to historical and contemporary events and images were to become regular features of bin Laden’s announcements. In a manner recognisable in Huntington’s (1998) thesis, a ‘clash of civilizations’ is portrayed of two religions in a long-standing conflict. Global jihad had been declared to be the individual obligation of all true Muslims and was to become increasingly noticeable from this point. Shortly afterwards, on the eighth anniversary of King Fahd’s invitation to American troops to defend Saudi Arabia from Iraq, the US embassies in Kenya and Tanzania were destroyed, and in 2000 the USS Cole was attacked at Aden. In September 2001, global jihad was taken into America. Following American attacks on Afghanistan after the September 2001 attacks, al-Qa’ida has become even more difficult to quantify. The destruction of training bases does not appear to have weakened the potential for terror activities. Instead the bottom-up, flexible approach, with groups initiating operations, has become even looser. Groups have even more local autonomy, as contact with the pre-September 2001 leadership became increasingly difficult (Burke, 2003; Orbach, 2001; Sageman, 2004). For the International Institute for Strategic Study (2003), this development is linked to ‘the counter-terrorism effort [that] has perversely impelled an already highly decentralized and evasive transnational terror network to become more “virtual” and protean and, therefore, harder to identify and neutralize’. Since 2001, as will be established shortly, many terror activities have been undertaken by people who share militant principles but did not attend a training camp in Afghanistan, although there is evidence that Afghan veterans have had some organisational involvement. Hoffman (2004: 550) elaborates upon this when pointing out that, post September 2001, Muslims have been ‘animated and inspired by Al-Qaeda and bin Laden but … neither belong specifically to Al-Qaeda nor directly follow orders issued by bin Laden’. To understand the nature of this transnational militancy, attention has to be placed upon a range of situations. For this purpose, it is important to look at socialising processes across Muslim societies and communities. Three of the most involved nation-states in the (unintentional) formation of militant discursive consciousness, Egypt, Saudi Arabia and Pakistan, and the significance of militancy within the West, are discussed in more detail to help illuminate routes into terrorism. Socialising Islamic Militants When looking at socialisation processes across other Muslim societies, it is apparent that, as in the Palestinian territories, ‘nowhere did Islam vanish from popular culture, social life, or day-to-day politics’ (Kepel, 2004a: 47). However, social relations and the nature of Islam have changed and it is argued that the transformation of socialising processes has had a huge impact. Recently education and the media have grown considerably in importance as the traditional role of the family has contracted and

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become more specialised. The expansion of the media, the Internet and increasingly the use of MP3 videos recorded on mobile phones has proved to be extremely important in raising levels of awareness about Islam, militancy, global relations and activities. Images and information about incidents and policies are being transmitted across the media at a much faster rate, quickly raising levels of awareness among Muslims about international affairs and encouraging global perspectives. Hence, actions and experiences that have been encountered for generations in places like the Palestinian territories and Kashmir are no longer just witnessed by people directly involved but a potential audience of millions who have access to appropriate forms of media. Often graphic and disturbing representations help arouse feelings of persecution and anger at the perceived instigators and mobilise opposition against those held responsible, whether secular Muslim regimes, Western nation-states or institutions. In his study of militancy, Gerges (2005: 61) interviews al-Bahri who joined the jihad in Bosnia when aged 21. He was part of a generation that was much more aware of international political developments than older generations. Al-Bahri referred to the impact of ‘a picture that is still printed in my mind to this day. It is of a Jewish soldier breaking the limbs of a Palestinian child with a stone, in front of the eyes of the world.’ Television, tape cassettes and magazines were to prove instrumental in his decision to join the global jihad. Another militant who also went to Bosnia informed Gerges (2005: 60–61) that the trip to jihad was a consequence of ‘watching the slaughter of children, women, and old people; the violation of honor and mass rape of girls; and the huge number of widows and orphans left by the war’. Similarly, a Libyan who volunteered to fight the Americans in Iraq told Pargeter (2006: 8) that the ‘media is what brought me. The pictures of Abu Ghraib … the alJazeera and al-Arabiya channels and other TV channels like al-Shariqa and others.’ Interestingly, Burke (2006) draws comparisons between militancy with easy access to satellite television and the Muslim insurgency in Thailand. In the former, there is a globalised form of radical language which was not noticeable within southern Thailand, where the rhetoric appeared parochial and local. Clearly there are other factors involved, but the lack of an ‘al-Jazeera effect’ appears to have contributed towards a more insular form of militancy emerging in Thailand. Interconnections between international issues and populations through the media highlights the utilisation of globalisation by groups associated with alQa’ida. Hegghammer (2006) has discussed how the massive Internet campaign in Saudi Arabia has inspired some individuals and groups to initiate contact. Militant activists have utilised modern methods of communication and transportation as ways of communicating with activists, attracting support and carrying out acts of terrorism. Certainly it would have been incomprehensibly difficult for the al-Qa’ida ‘hardcore’ to have been so influential from Afghanistan between 1996 and 2001 without contemporary technology. The Internet has proved particularly useful in connecting to local issues and a globalised audience. Khatib (2003) outlines how groups use the web to post messages about mission statements, photographs and audio visual messages relating to activities, to attract funding, provide updates and to communicate through email and chat-rooms. Consequently, groups have much faster access to a considerably larger audience, often with much greater control over events than previous generations. Militants connected to al-Qa’ida have used the media as


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a recruiting agent, realising its potential in comparison with the time-consuming and traditional methods of attracting support through charity associations and mosques. Images of terror attacks have been quickly shown on television and shared on the Internet. These representations are considered central to the militants’ attempt to undermine and de-legitimise both ‘near’ and ‘far’ enemies. Images are also designed to reach out to possible supporters who are often dislocated or disillusioned within societies and are maybe attracted by the virtual global community and the perception of themselves as defenders of the faith. However, even after exposure to militant ideology and developing global consciousness, individuals have to become part of a group. To date there have been no lone-wolf Islamic militants linked to al-Qa’ida. And, because of the requirement for trustworthy and dedicated personnel, recruitment can only take place through face-to-face interaction often allied to initial Internet links. Other changes have therefore also been instrumental in the contemporary rise of militant ‘Islamic’ terrorism. One important change that has occurred across Muslim societies is the concessions that have been made to supporters of religion. As a consequence, socialising processes have altered and these have, unintentionally, contributed to the emergence of international militants. Generally the concessions have both increased the influence of Islam within societies and contributed to the development of more radical Muslim identities. Such allowances were not necessarily intended to reverse processes of secularisation but they have contributed to growing feelings of anti-secularism. There are a number of reasons for the concessions, including attracting political support and/or countering communism, opposing Islamic schools of thought or hostile nationalists, addressing concerns over alienation and anomie, and engaging traditional Muslims. One key change has been the tremendous increase in religious teaching within state and private schools across a broad range of societies, even in the most secular Muslim nation-states like Turkey and Tunisia.13 For example, Pakistan, like many other Muslim nation-states, has sought to utilise Islam to provide the government with legitimacy. This was most notable within the process of re-Islamisation during General Zia ul-Haq’s military rule, to address concerns about the consequences of modernisation and to help in the proxy war against India (Stern, 2003). A number of policies have been introduced that have enhanced the religious component within law, economy, government and education. During the 1970s and 1980s, the number of medressas (Islamic schools) increased tremendously, helped by funding from the Gulf. Education, food and accommodation are all provided at the medressas, often to children of poor families who would otherwise receive no education (Esposito, 2002; Stern, 2003). Many medressas combine classical religious education with a modern curriculum. A minority are controlled by Deobandis that propagate dogmatic discourse (Esposito, 2002; Rahman, 1998) that is often sectarian. And as Malik (2002) and Sarwar (2004) have pointed out, the propagation of jihad has been present within prescribed government textbooks of state-run schools since the onset of the Afghan war against the Soviet Union. Nayyar and Selim (2002) argue that 13 For further details, see Akşit (1991), Ayubi (1991), Enhali and Adda (2003), Saikal (2003) and Vertigans (2003).

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state-run schools also inculcate anti-American sentiments and support many antiWestern ideas. The role of these medressas has gone beyond the development of individual religiosity. Thousands of medressa graduates have subsequently gone to militant training camps and left to fight for localised issues or joined an international group.14 Increases in religious schools, Islam in the school curriculum and the penetration of state institutions by recently well-educated radicals who disseminate extremist views have been noted across Muslim societies (Kepel, 2004b; Vertigans, 2003). A former member of the Egyptian Jamaah Islamiyah, Tawfiq Hamid (2007), discusses the impact that school had upon his process of radicalisation. Experiences included watching films about early conquests and learning the significance of ‘aggressive’ jihad. The relationship between education and militancy is particularly interesting in Saudi Arabia. Admon (2007) reports on a document titled ‘Educational Policy’ published by the Saudi Education Ministry. Amongst a range of goals are two that relate specifically to jihad, ‘to prepare students physically and mentally for jihad for the sake of Allah’ and ‘to arouse the spirit of Islamic jihad in order to fight our enemies, to restore our rights and our glory, and to fulfil the mission of Islam’. Kepel (2004b) outlines the focus upon jihad within prescribed textbooks. In the textbooks, considerable emphasis is placed upon the role of jihad as practised by the Ikhwan in the formation of the modern Saudi nation-states. The Saudi columnist Saud alBalawi argues that the curricula provide ‘fertile ground for teachers with extremist ideological tendencies to spread their views officially’.15 Yet since the 1930s, jihad has been prohibited on Saudi territory because, it is argued, the Shari’ah has been implemented. Therefore struggle against the nation-state is superfluous. Thus students learn about theology, the history of Islam and the importance of jihad in contexts in which it is prescribed. Increasing numbers have realised, often guided by militant teachers, that the modern nation-state has not implemented the Shari’ah. Instead the state is increasingly defined by corruption, immorality and close relations with the West. In these circumstances, students have re-assessed the potential of jihad to bring about transformation within Saudi Arabia. There is also a debate within Saudi Arabia concerning the extent to which summer schools have been penetrated by militant Islamists. And while many schools are not openly controlled by militants, ‘the ideas presented in them prepare the atmosphere for the creation of terrorists’ (Abdallah ibn Bajjad, 2005).16 Similarly, the potential impact of radicalism within mainstream education has led to attempts to curb extremist influence. Greater attention is placed upon the curriculum, with ‘textbooks of lessons inculcating hostility toward Christians and Jews’ purged (ICG, 2004: 19). Bin Laden has argued that this is part of the broader attempt for ‘Crusader control over our country’, which has extended to ‘changing our school curricula – with the intention of disfiguring the identity of the Islamic Nation and westernizing its children’.17 To 14 Estimates for the number of medressa graduates who fought in Afghanistan between 1994 and 1999 range from 80,000 to 100,000 (Rashid, 1999). 15 Reported in Admon (2007: 2). 16 Abdallah ibn Bajjad is cited in Yehoshua (2005: 4). 17 Bin Laden is quoted in Fradkin (2005: 7).


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understand why the Saudi government implemented greater Islamification within education, the policy has to be embedded within the broader approach to boost the regime’s pan-Islamic nationalism and thus its legitimacy. This was partly achieved through emphasis upon the moral responsibility of Saudis to support oppressed Muslims abroad. Financial and military support for Muslim resistance groups became acceptable as part of ‘religious’ responsibility. The involvement of Saudis in ‘foreign’ conflicts became embedded within Saudi culture, making it difficult for the security forces to subsequently try to restrict support and activity. At a pragmatic level, part of the increase in militancy can be explained by the advent of considerable funding from the Gulf that arose in the 1970s, after oil revenues increased tremendously after the 1973 embargo. Gulf governments, particularly Saudi Arabia, used some of their increased resources to try to influence both Islamic behaviour and government practices across a wide range of Muslim societies. Financial support was provided for a variety of Islamic-themed services including aid, charitable organisations and Islamic education. Underlying this support was the aim to enhance Wahhabism and to counter a range of competing ideologies including socialism, Arab nationalism and Iranian shi’ism (Esposito, 2002; Hiro, 2002; Kepel, 2004b; Vertigans, 2003). But in the medressas, and many state schools, students are often taught by graduates of Islamic institutions whose religiosity is more militant than Gulf state-informed Wahhabism, and who consider these governments to be contributing to the problems facing Islam. And along with the greater prominence of militants within civil society, these teachers contribute to fundamental changes within socialisation and the subsequent rise of international terrorism in situations where radical messages are legitimised. For example, militant groups in Southeast Asia have established a network of Islamic schools that disseminate radicalism and recruit members (Abuza, 2003). Many of these schools are not under the control of governments.18 And a significant number of people involved in the Bali bombings had been educated at state Muslim high schools, particularly two schools associated with Abu Bakar Baasyir and Abdullah Sungkar in Indonesia and Malaysia, where numerous radical teachers were employed. Militants also use the schools, particularly boarding institutions, to make informal contact with students. Investigations into the Bali bombings discovered that Jemaah Islamiyah, believed to be responsible for the attacks, initiated contact. School pupils were invited to attend meetings where videos depicting Western brutality against Muslims were shown (ICG, 2002; Sageman, 2004). Schools are also important places to meet likeminded peers. As one militant informed Gerges (2006: 33) ‘more important than the classes … were the meetings that took place outside of the classrooms, the long hours spent with activists praying, discussing politics, and reading radical religious texts’. And more generally, the role of education is also important, because like other terror organisations, groups associated with al-Qa’ida rely on educated recruits with communicative, technological, administrative and organisational qualities that are essential for organisations wanting to utilise modern methods of attack. In other

18 For example, Abuza (2003) states that only 8.6 per cent of Indonesia’s 37,362 medressas are controlled by the state.

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words, leaders are generally better educated than lower level members (Kalpakian, 2005; Sutton and Vertigans, 2005). Education is therefore important in recruiting and training potential militants, but this is not simply a process of socialising disillusioned young people with limited career prospects, facing economic exclusion. Hegghammer’s (2006) study of Saudi militants identified that they originated from across the country, with most major cities and governorates represented, and the widely perceived problematic south not over-represented. Nor did the studied sample include significantly large numbers from the poorest regions that could be considered to be economically neglected. Bin Laden (1998) has addressed the over-reliance on material explanations for Islamic militancy, arguing that: they [Western commentators] claim that this blessed awakening and the people reverting to Islam are due to economic factors. This is not so … When the holy war called, thousands of young men from the Arab Peninsula and other countries answered the call and they came from wealthy backgrounds … We believe that this is the call we have to answer regardless of our financial capabilities.

This is not to say that uneducated or unemployed people do not play a significant role within militant Islam. At the lower level of the groups’ networks, medressas and even state schools have been infiltrated by militant teachers. In these institutions, pupils from poorer backgrounds are being educated. Most tend to leave school with radical Islamic beliefs, few qualifications and limited employment prospects (Burke, 2003; Kepel, 2004a; Sageman, 2004; Stern, 2003). The absolutism of the religious discourse provides explanations for their experiences and makes them willing recruits in both national and international struggles against those held responsible. There is a danger that all of this attention upon education within the socialisation of militants will contribute to the impression that they have been ‘brainwashed’ during education or that other socialising agencies are unimportant in processes of radicalisation. In some respects, militants shared this perception, believing that ‘if we could Islamize universities, in a few years we could Islamize government and society’.19 But as Prince Khaled al-Faisal bin Abd al-Aziz reports,20 with respect to Saudi Arabia, militancy has spread in ‘schools, [university] faculties, homes … mosques and everywhere’. Instead of a single, over-socialised model for understanding Islamic terrorism, there is a need to acknowledge the multifarious routes in joining terror groups. Reuter (2004) observes that many militants have been the instigators of their membership, consciously choosing to visit training camps in Afghanistan or attend medressas in other countries. Nor is there an inevitable relationship between undergoing training in Afghanistan and militancy. Certainly camps provided detailed preparation for different types of conflict, opportunities to determine the extent of individuals’ commitment and abilities, and to solidify bonds to militancy and other militants. However, the camps were not solely responsible for radicalisation. Many Muslims who attended have not committed terror acts, and a number of the recent attacks have been undertaken by people who had not been to Afghanistan. In some 19 Militant in conversation with Gerges (2006: 34). 20 Prince bin Abd al-Aziz is reported in Dankowitz (2005: 1).


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cases people undertaking acts of terrorism had been radicalised after the camps were destroyed in the post September 2001 attacks. And as Sageman (2004) points out, some of the plotters involved in the attacks in America had also not attended training camps which were at that time operational. Other socialising agents have therefore been instrumental in processes of radicalisation. Despite popular perceptions, imams at mosques have generally not been the primary recruiting agents for militants. With a few notable exceptions, mosques have tended to be conservative institutions which emphasise tradition and submission to Allah. Rewards in the afterlife are stressed, but to be achieved through devout behaviour and not martyrdom. Instead, as Hegghammer (2006) has argued with respect to Saudi militants, common recruiting grounds were informal religious study groups and gatherings, not formalised processes through mosques. Within the West, Stemmann (2006) suggests that mosques are losing their significance and are being replaced by private religious courses within informal settings, personal contacts and the Internet. Research into the background of the four people believed to have been responsible for the 7 July 2005 suicide bombs in London has shown that, as the group became radicalised, they became estranged from local mosques which had no history of employing radical imams (Burke et al., 2005). However, mosques have been instrumental as places where people develop friendships and are invited to informal study groups that are not affiliated with the religious institution (discussed in more detail below). In part, distantiation between the religious institutions and militancy is a consequence of Muslim-majority nation-states’ policy of using Islam as a mechanism for social control, and which contributes to the ulema being undermined. By providing support for governments, helping maintain social control and criticising militant Muslims, the ulema are widely considered to be part of the establishment. Close relationships with governments have resulted in ulema rarely being able to undertake credible political opposition. Distance between official religious figures and radical Muslims is not new. Ibrahim’s (1980) study into Egyptian militants highlighted the distance between them and the religious establishment, with the ulema dismissed as ‘pulpit parrots’ (Ibrahim, 1980: 434). With theological competition restricted, militants have been able to monopolise radical positions, dispensing religious advice and edicts that they are generally not qualified to make. Indeed the lack of institutional qualifications provides part of the legitimacy for people like bin Laden and al-Zawahiri, and previously al-Banna and Qutb, who have utilised their outsider status. However, not all members of the ulema conform with government instructions, or state policies have unintended consequences. In a number of instances, government reliance upon religious institutions has provided ulema with opportunities to increase levels of religiosity. For example, in Egypt, the secular regime’s frequent reliance upon the ulema to provide theological legitimacy for controversial policies has enabled processes of radicalisation to be introduced. Younger members of the ulema, like their lay peers, are also more likely to be critical of governing regimes. This has been most notable in Saudi Arabia where radicalisation is also occurring across society for changes connected with religious institutions. Following the 1990 Iraqi invasion of Kuwait and the subsequent stationing of American troops in Saudi Arabia,

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tremendous pressure was placed upon the relationship between the government and the ulema. The government had to secure a supportive fatwa to sanction the decision. And because of this reliance, the ulema were able to negotiate greater Islamification of society in return for the supportive fatwa (Kepel, 2004b). Since 1991, the government has continued to rely heavily on the ulema to provide social control and legitimacy as it struggles to confront internal problems associated with demographic pressures, tremendous socio-economic change, growing disparities in wealth and increased awareness about corruption within the royal family. In return the ulema has been able to further negotiate stricter enforcement of their perceptions of Wahhabi morality. This has had a particularly restrictive impact on women. ‘These concessions to the most retrograde voices within the ulema seemed politically painless in the short term: but in fact they drastically increased the ulema’s hold on education, allowing them to go far beyond the strict dissemination of religious teaching and indulge in unbridled indoctrination’ (Kepel, 2004b: 167). And as a consequence, while the ulema is not actively supporting terrorism, the Saudi government’s indirect support, resources and freedom for militants to operate has contributed towards further penetration of more rigid Islam within society. Consequently, the gap between mainstream and militant Islam has diminished. In other words, there is less distance for Muslims to travel from supporting state-sponsored Islam to militancy. There are considerable vicissitudes in the backgrounds of people who join groups and the routes that they take in developing militant discursive consciousness. Like the Palestinians, families have been important in introducing members of al-Qa’ida to Islam during childhood. Jemaah Islamiya (JI) in Indonesia is also strongly associated with close familial relations. Abuza (2003) and Ismail (2006) discuss intermarrying between male members and female relatives of comrades. By integrating family with ideology, Ismail argues that the group is stronger and more secure against infiltration. And kinship bonds are not necessarily restricted to one generation. Within JI, there have been a number of notable cases of ‘jihadi families’, with father and brothers involved within the earlier militant group, Darul Islam. In turn their children also became engaged with terrorism through JI (Ismail, 2006). Similarly, Khosrokhavar (2005) identifies an example of a Muslim family in France. Husband, wife and two sons have all been arrested for terror activities. Hegghammer (2006) identifies many Saudi militants who followed in the footsteps of relatives and friends who had participated in the struggle in Afghanistan, many of whom had been killed. Generally children’s views become much more radical than their parents not only through exposure to education but, as the following examples show, through multifarious routes. Indeed, as one respondent explains to Gerges (2006), many militants originate from moderate families and their sons are also frequently rebelling against their parents’ perceived passivity. Other militants have kept their involvement in militancy hidden from their families, often running away to join jihads (Gerges, 2005). It is therefore illuminating to consider some detailed examples of the key socialising agents and experiences of people associated with al-Qa’ida from across Muslim societies and communities in the West. In the process, comparative analysis will be undertaken between the experiences of militants living in Muslim societies and the West.


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Recent bombings in London and Madrid have shown that there are active Muslim militants living in the West. Activities continue to be undertaken by indigenous groups that are linked to al-Qa’ida in places like Saudi Arabia, Indonesia, Central Asia, Pakistan, Morocco and Egypt that receive relatively less attention in the West. This is part of a tendency to concentrate upon the role of migrants in Europe and is leading to the contributions of non-European-based Muslims being overlooked. This even applies to Islamic terrorism within America, where the disproportionate involvement of Saudi nationals has become lost in the analysis, exemplified by Atran’s (2005) statement that it was ‘young [Muslim] adults in European cities, who provided the manpower for the 9/1l and Madrid attacks’. In this section, the imbalance is addressed with individual narratives outlined that include representatives both of groups planning and undertaking local actions, albeit with international targets, for example, in Bali and Singapore, and transnational attacks in America and London, to help determine similarities and distinctions regarding contextual factors and agents that are influential in trajectories into Islamic terrorism. Analysis of the backgrounds of people who have undertaken acts of terrorism supports the above discussion concerning the variety of upbringings, including attendance at medressas and routes into militancy. There is little evidence that these individuals are inherently socialised into militancy during childhood. Sageman’s (2004) study, for example, showed that just less than 50 per cent were described in childhood as being religious, and there are grounds to suggest that the interpretation of religious would differ from militancy anyway. Similarly, the belief that they are usually young, single men is again unfounded by available evidence.21 Some individuals associated with al-Qa’ida, such as Ziad Jarrah, one of the individuals in the September 2001 attacks, contradict a number of the dominant perceptions about Muslim ‘terrorists’. Jarrah was from a Lebanese middle class family and had been a non-practising Muslim. After arriving to study in Germany, he became bored and lonely and began to attend prayer meetings at college. He became influenced by these sessions, attracted by the sense of brotherhood and purpose they provided. Through these sessions and discussions with other Muslims, Jarrah began to find ‘an authenticity he suspected his life had lacked’, having previously been ‘stricken with self doubt’ (Bennett, 2004: 14). These beliefs were radicalised as he met Muslims who talked about their experiences in the Palestinian territories and watched videos that showed atrocities against Muslims in conflicts within Bosnia and Chechnya. The inner turmoil which Jarrah experienced between militancy and his secular roots is reflected in his personal life and sexual relationship with a female student whom he subsequently married. The use of videos is part of standard militant recruitment techniques and is notable in a number of the narratives of people who have committed acts of terrorism. For example, testimonies of the two surviving bombers in the Casablanca attacks in 2003 highlighted the importance of videos about armed jihad, which they watched following evening prayers at unofficial mosques (Byrne, 2004). Hoffman (2003) has identified how recruitment videos extol the virtues of jihad and martyrdom. 21 Sageman’s (2004) study found that 73 per cent of those involved in terror groups were married, and the average age for joining the jihad was 26.

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Post (2005) interviewed a defendant in the US embassy bombing in Tanzania who watched videos showing mass graves in Bosnia and dead women and children in Chechnya. And in the 21 July 2005 failed attacks in London, the suspects watched hours of footage depicting horrific scenes from Iraq (Brady and Phillips, 2005; Thompson et al., 2005). In addition, the Internet has become an important method of communication, particularly as, according to the House of Commons’ Report of the Official Account of the Bombings in London on 7 July 2005 (HOC, 2006: 31), within the West, visible contacts with potential recruits and militants are being reduced to avoid detection. ‘As such, extremists are more and more making extensive use of the internet … The internet is widely used for propaganda; training (including in weapons and explosives); to claim responsibility for attacks; and for grooming through chatrooms and elsewhere.’ In other terror cells, peer groups seem to have been one of the dominant influences in processes of radicalisation. For example, individuals associated with bombings and foiled attempts in Bali, Singapore, Madrid and London, and the Hamburg cell that attacked America, became radicalised as part of a collective process within groups. For immigrants, particularly to the West, who often face a number of hardships including discrimination and racism, joining groups is part of a common defence mechanism. Many individuals become part of groups with which they share experiences and cultural values that offer companionship and security. Khaled al-Berry (2005: 8) identifies the importance of these factors when discussing why he joined a radical Egyptian group: ‘I wasn’t attracted to their brand of religion: I was attracted to them as people … It’s like a new group of friends … At that time you already like them and want to be one of them because you like their courage and sense of donation.’ And, as was established in Chapter 2, militant Islam can provide certainty over ambiguity, unity against local and transnational threats and prescriptions upon morality, appearance, conduct, interpersonal relations and diet. Combined, these instructions are seen to offer a framework for life that can appeal to people experiencing dislocation, uncertainty or challenging experiences. Over time, individual identity can become interwoven with religious ideology and group identity, and in these circumstances individual and social goals become indistinguishable (Post, Sprinzak and Denny, 2003). Similar processes were noted by Hegghammer (2006: 50) in the decision-making taken by Saudi militants to go to Afghanistan: ‘Group dynamics such as peer pressure and intra-group affection seem to have been crucial in the process.’ This quest for spiritual understanding helps to explain why so many expatriates initially become involved with groups at mosques. For instance, in Hamburg, Mohammed Belfas conducted a study group at a local mosque which was attended by eight expatriates who mainly originated from the Middle East. They subsequently became involved in the 2001 plot to attack America, including, most notoriously, Mohammed Atta and Ziad Jarrah (discussed above). Sageman (2004) has documented the radicalisation that occurred. An apartment shared by two of the group members became a base for companionship, to practise religion, watch videos, often about jihad and martyrdom, and discuss Islam and its enemies. It was within this atmosphere that the group collectively intensified their beliefs. And through informal networks,


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they travelled to Afghanistan for training before becoming involved in the global jihad and ultimately the 2001 attacks. Similar processes were involved in the radicalisation of Ahmed Ressam22 who was involved in the foiled Millennium plot to attack Los Angeles International Airport. Ressam was born in 1967 into a moderate Algerian Muslim family. As a young man, he wore Western clothes, visited nightclubs and drank alcohol. In 1994, after failing to achieve his ambitions in Algeria which was divided by civil war, Ressam was caught trying to illegally gain entry into Canada but was allowed to stay. When in Montreal, he discovered a mosque and met people like himself and those who seemed to have successfully integrated into Canadian society. Unknown to Ressam at the time, the mosque had been infiltrated by radical interpretations of Islam. After turning to petty crime to help support a better lifestyle, Ressam came into contact with Fateh Kamel who had fought in Afghanistan and Bosnia.23 Ressam began supplying Kamel with stolen credit cards and passports. After a couple of years, Ressam had established a group of similar friends who were generally Algerian and increasingly critical of North American culture. During this time, Kamel and another Afghan veteran, Abderraouf Hannachi, grew in importance within the group. By 1998, Ressam had become sufficiently radical to attend a training camp in Afghanistan, and on his return to Canada he began to plan to attack the airport. Similarly, the majority of people who were part of the cell involved in the 2004 Madrid bombings were also not directly linked to the al-Qa’ida hardcore. They ‘had been recruited on the basis of neighbourly relations, friendships struck up at the mosque, or family and tribal ties in northern Morocco or in underprivileged areas of Tangiers and the Rif’ (Kepel, 2004b: 147). It is also important to examine the backgrounds of second generation immigrants within the West and experiences of discrimination, rejection and marginalisation which Marranci (2006) identifies in France. Asif Hanif was the first British citizen to become a suicide bomber when blowing himself up in Tel Aviv in 2003. Hanif was from a relatively wealthy middle class background and his family practised a moderate form of Sufism. Family and friends were amazed to find out that this popular, honourable and polite ‘gentle giant’ had committed such an act. How Hanif reached this decision remains unclear, although Marranci (2006) reports that the police discovered emails from his sister which appear to incite him to conduct jihad. By comparison, much more is known about the 7 July 2005 London bombers. They had a variety of experiences that drew links between medressas in Pakistan, religious worship in Saudi Arabia and experiences of racism in Britain. All four bombers had been integrated within the UK and their communities were tremendously shocked that such ‘normal’, ‘nice’ and ‘likeable’ men could commit such acts. For instance, twelve months prior to the attacks, the supposed ring leader, Mohammad Sidique 22 Ressam’s pathway into terrorism is discussed in Bergen (2001), Bernton et al. (2002), Burke (2003) and Sageman (2004). 23 Previous jihad experience in Afghanistan is common amongst many older militants across Muslim societies, often befriending younger recruits For example, Hegghammer’s (2006) study discovered that over 50 per cent of Saudi militants had previously been involved in Afghanistan.

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Khan, had been a valuable member of the community, had integrated at a mixed race school, was well respected for his youth work, and his contributions had been acknowledged during a visit to Parliament. Shehzad Tanweer also underwent a process of transformation and visited Pakistan between November 2004 and February 2005 with Khan. His family reported that his religious beliefs were more devout on his return and he despaired of UK policy in Kashmir, Iraq and Afghanistan. At the same period, local imams noticed that the third Leeds-based suspected bomber, Hasib Hussain, was becoming more militant. He had also visited Pakistan and had previously been to Saudi Arabia to worship. All three were from the same part of West Yorkshire. Khan is believed to have been instrumental in the radicalisation of the other two younger individuals.24 It is thought that the fourth member, Lindsay Kemal, who converted to Islam in his final year at school, met other members of the group through mutual Muslim contacts in West Yorkshire. The four had become close associates before Khan and Tanweer left for Pakistan (HOC, 2006). Khan is known to have expressed his dissatisfaction with the environment in which he, Tanweer and Hussain lived. In his ‘living will’, he was vitriolic in denouncing Britain’s foreign policy which was considered to be part of an onslaught against Muslims. Interviews with friends discovered frequent references to the war in Iraq and related suffering and injustices (BBC, 2005b; Burke et al., 2005; Gerges, 2005; Norton-Taylor, 2006). By comparison, the suspects in the failed 21 July 2005 attacks in London were East African refugees. The group had close social relations. Two of the group were brothers and another two shared accommodation. It is believed that the group formed after meeting at the controversial Finsbury Park mosque in late 2002, although there is no evidence to suggest that any imams, including the notorious Abu Hamza, had influenced the men. Indeed during recent attempts to eradicate radicalism from the mosque, one of the suspected bombers was confronted for distributing literature for the militant group, al-Muhajiroun. And contrary to popular opinion, as Marranci (2006: 59) notes, ‘within the majority of mosques in the West, a serious discussion of jihad is lacking’. Instead, children were being informed about the concept through peers, television and the Internet. A more detailed examination of three of the 21 July bombers also provides important information about the range of experiences that contribute to processes of radicalisation (Brady and Phillips, 2005; Fielding, 2005; Thompson et al., 2005). One of the intended bombers, Yasin Hassan Omar, arrived in London from Somalia, aged 11, unaccompanied by any adults. He spent the remainder of his childhood within the British care system and sought to assimilate within British culture. For example, as a young adult he became heavily involved in computer games and went nightclubbing. Like other bombers from both planned London bombings, he was considered to be a ‘decent guy’. Omar’s friends have reported that meeting Muktar Said Ibrahim, the believed ringleader, at Finsbury Park mosque was instrumental in his radicalisation. Ibrahim had arrived in the UK from Eritrea via Saudi Arabia in 1990. He too quickly became ‘Westernised’ in behaviour, taking soft drugs and having numerous girlfriends. In 1996 he was convicted of violent muggings and 24 Hussain was 18, Lindsay Kemal, a convert of Jamaican origin, was 19 and Tanweer and Khan were 22 and 30 respectively.


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was sentenced to detention in a youth offenders’ institute. During his time in prison, like other Muslims and converts, he became radicalised, an outcome which has contributed to a growing security presence within UK prisons. On release, Ibrahim expressed his religiosity. He was known to complain about perceived discrimination within the UK. Osman Hussein, a married, naturalised British citizen who was born in Ethiopia and arrested in Italy, is reported to have informed Italian anti-terror police that the group collectively became radicalised through political discussions and the situation in Iraq, which was regularly featured in films which Ibrahim showed.25 By comparison, Volpi (2003) discusses Kelkal, a Muslim born in Algeria and raised in France, who became one of the leaders of the bombing campaign attacking French targets. Kelkal also became radicalised when in prison and decided to become actively involved in the struggle of the Algerian militants which he transposed to France. Similar reasoning was provided by both Salahuddin Amin and Omar Khyam at their trials for plotting to cause explosions in Britain. Both were British Muslims whose families emigrated from Pakistan, and the conflict in Kashmir was a defining issue in their radicalisation. Another member of the group, Anthony Garcia, was born in Algeria but, influenced by his increasingly Islamic brother, he became inspired by the situation in Kashmir, partly through exposure to videos that showed alleged atrocities committed by the Indian army. Information about attacks in non-Western parts of the world by indigenous groups is not as extensive. But the information that is available provides useful insights into the backgrounds of a number of the cells in a range of countries. Analysis of the Bali bombing and Singaporean foiled plot highlight peer networks which seem to have been influential in processes of radicalisation that ultimately resulted in terrorism. Perpetrators of the Bali bombings included four brothers and their next-door neighbour. By comparison, most of the people involved in the 2003 suicide bombings in Morocco came from the same neighbourhood, were poorly educated and lived in poverty. A number had been petty criminals, drug users and alcoholics (Kalpakian, 2005; Kepel 2004b). They are closer therefore to the stereotypical image of Muslim ‘terrorists’ whose lives make them vulnerable to escapist ideologies and charismatic leaders. Similarly, experiences of some Saudi Arabians in local and transnational terror groups tend to fit into widely held views, namely that they originated from radicalising areas, attended religious schools and controversial mosques, and trained in Afghanistan. Studies into the backgrounds of the Saudis involved in the 2001 attacks on America reveal that pre-existing relationships were significant because the majority of these individuals were introduced to militancy through brothers, cousins and friends.26 Thus peer groups were important for the Saudis, but as one influence rather than the dominant socialising agent. A failed Singaporean cell that was believed to belong to Jemaah Islamiyah was unremarkable in the context of the wider society. Members were generally middle aged (which conflicts with perceptions that Islamic ‘terrorists’ are young), both married and single, and their occupations ranged from well-educated businessmen to taxi drivers. They differed 25 A review of Hussein’s statement can be found in Brady and Phillips (2005). 26 Further details can be found in Sennott (2002), Khashoggi (2001) and Murphy and Ottaway (2001).

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from the Bali bombers who had experienced medressa educations, often attended controversial mosques and became involved in study groups that emphasised jihad and the need to challenge the persecution of Muslims (ICG, 2002). Instead the Singaporean group seems to have collectively become radicalised through attending meetings and prayer sessions in apartments, and dynamics within the group. Didar, a Kurdish Muslim from Iraqi Kurdistan, provided a different rationale in discussions with Burke (2003: 278). He seems to have become involved in militancy through boredom and loneliness. After leaving school in 1999 with limited employment prospects, he ‘didn’t have much to do, so started going to the mosque a lot’. Through the mosque, Didar was provided with militant literature and joined a Qur’anic study group. At the study group, Didar, who previously had few friends, made new companions. With the help of guidance from the mosque teacher, the group’s faith deepened and they became politically agitated about the need for jihad in Kurdistan. As part of this process, Didar and a friend joined Ansar ul Islam, since renamed Ansar ul Sunna, and together decided to become suicide bombers. Another member of the group, Rebuar Khadir, informed Burke (2006) that there had been a gradual radicalisation. He had initially joined a politically active group for a number of reasons, including the small salary that members received. Factors behind Involvement A multitude of reasons why people have joined ‘Islamic’ terror groups exist, including loneliness, anger, disillusionment, boredom and disgust. These factors prevent individuals from being sufficiently embedded within societies. As the narrator emphasised in Shehzad Tanweer’s ‘living will’, it is not necessarily ‘because of poverty, unemployment and emptiness as some of the mercenary media try to portray it to us’. There is considerable focus upon Western actions, particularly at the present time, and the occupation of Muslim land and religious sites and situations in Iraq, Chechnya27 and Kashmir. Such interventions are noticeable within both transnational and indigenous groups and can also be found in many of al-Qa’ida’s ideological statements.28 Attention, particularly within Muslims originating from the Middle East, is placed on the expulsion of American military bases, especially from Saudi Arabia (a point frequently raised by bin Laden). Revenge for the deaths of family and friends and reciprocal killing is prominent as a form of defence, exemplified by bin Laden’s (2001) statement that ‘just as they’re killing us, we have to kill them so that there is a balance of terror’. At a local level, the behaviour of elites, most notably of Saudi princes, and associated corruption and immorality have been important factors. Imam Samudra, one of the Jemaah Islamiyah organisers of the Bali bombing

27 For example, Hegghammer (2006) reports on the impact of the Chechen war upon radicalisation amongst Saudi militants. 28 These sentiments are found in many statements by leading al-Qa’ida figures, including al-Zawahiri (2001), bin Laden (1998, 2001) and associated militants like the 7 and 21 July London bombers (Brady and Phillips, 2005; HOC, 2006; BBC, 2005b).


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in 2002, offered a number of justifications29 for the attacks, including disgust at the ‘whites and their dirty adulterous behaviour’. Nightclubs were targeted because they were considered to be centres of immorality. Similar sentiments were also held by the foiled Singaporean attackers. And while the targets for attacks had international significance, the group were aiming to contribute towards a long-term goal to unify Southeast Asia under the Shari’ah. This example highlights the interrelationship between localism and transnationalism within some militant Islamic groups. Local groups continue to pursue regional issues alongside transnational, broader, long-term goals that connect with al-Qa’ida’s strategy. This can even be applied to the leading figures within al-Qa’ida, namely bin Laden and al-Zawahiri. Both are obviously heavily involved in global relations yet retain deep interest in events in their native Saudi Arabia and Egypt respectively. And for militant Western Muslims, perceptions of rising Islamophobia, discrimination and the impact of anti-terrorism laws in the West are impacting upon loyalties. Other members like al-Zawahiri have been influenced by personal experiences such as, in his case, the torture he experienced in prison, which he later described as humiliating.30 The appeal of militancy is strongly correlated with the failures of other discourses. Western-influenced modernisation and related secularisation have raised expectations, resulted in the transformation of national landscapes, huge numbers of people have relocated, studied and made tremendous sacrifices. Yet millions of Muslims continue to live in abject poverty, facing daily insecurities and uncertainties while being exposed to massive economic inequalities. In these settings, terrorism often has a receptive audience. To reiterate, though, members are not simply attracted from amongst the economically excluded. Raising hopes within the population that are subsequently shattered seems to be particularly significant in processes of rationalisation. Sadat’s attempts to establish himself as the ‘pious President’ is an illuminating example of this. On gaining power in 1970, following the death of Nasser, Sadat sought to distance himself from the Nasserists and some unpopular secular policies. He reduced repressive measures that had been imposed on Islamists, supported religious institutions and strengthened Islam within the Egyptian Constitution. In the process he provided militancy with opportunities to develop. As a militant, and staunch critic of Sadat, Kamal declared to Gerges (2006: 47), ‘thanks to Sadat, a new healthy Islamic generation was born unfettered and unscarred by persecution and torture like the previous generation in the 1950s and 1960s’. Ultimately, Sadat bitterly disappointed the Islamists, failing to instigate Islamic reforms that his rhetoric had led them to believe he would deliver. For Kamal, Sadat’s most unforgivable sin was to renege on his promise to introduce Shari’ah jurisprudence. Against this backdrop, the Camp David treaty with Israel ignited popular opposition, resulting ultimately in Sadat’s assassination. By comparison, political Islam was reinvigorated by events in Afghanistan and the Iranian revolution which highlighted, even to Sunnis, the 29 Discussed in Acharya (2006). Other reasons include attacks by Western ‘colonialists’ on the Muslim umma, the actions were reciprocal and part of the globalisation of conflicts. 30 During torture, al-Zawahiri is believed to have betrayed his comrades (al-Zayyat, 2004). Gerges (2006) also discusses the impact of Egyptian prisons on militants and their radicalisation.

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potential of Islam. Finally, the lack of political participation is also a crucial factor, along with the interconnected failure to implement popular democracy. MiltonEdwards (2005) observes how authoritarian governments have been able to interpret the American-led ‘War on Terror’ to further repress opposition under the shield of fighting international terrorism. Unsurprisingly, these policies result in more people becoming alienated and embittered, and connect into Hafez’s (2004) thesis linking repression with militancy and violence with counter-violence. For instance, members of the Egyptian Jama ‘a al-Islamiyya have detailed a number of factors to justify their own violence, including government use of violence, abuse, torture and assassination. Ahmed Bin Aicha, an Algerian AIS commander, exemplifies this when claiming, ‘when we were threatened with death, we had no other choice but to take up the gun’.31 And associated with this is the perceived hypocrisy of Western governments in supporting democracy where conditions are deemed favourably proWestern, while discarding the outcome of elections won by pro-Islamic groups like FIS in Algeria and Hamas in the Palestinian territories. Summarising Socialising Experiences within Al-Qa’ida Research undertaken into Islamic terrorism indicates that there are a number of possible routes from being a moderate Muslim to becoming a militant willing to commit acts of terrorism. There is no homogenous militancy that people internalise. The nature of their beliefs will depend on the routes they take and the discourse they are exposed to. Individuals have originated from a range of different socioeconomic backgrounds, across the Middle East, throughout Asia, Africa, the former Soviet republics, Europe and North America. Outside of their beliefs, there is no standard transnational profile that can help identify the people most likely to transform moderate Muslims into militants, although it is possible, as Sageman (2004) acknowledges, to identify similarities within some local groups, with closer pre-existing social networks. Reasons why individuals start to develop a more devout and ultimately militant interest in Islam are also varied, including reaction to national and international events and ways of behaving. Some of these factors can also be noticed within bin Laden’s process of radicalisation which was heavily influenced by the response of the Saudi government to the 1979 seizure of the Holy Mosque by the Ikhwan and the 1990–91 deployment of American forces on Saudi territory. Previously, Qutb underwent a process of radicalisation partly as a consequence of feeling repulsed by the behaviour of Americans during his stay in the US. Exposure to Western behaviour does not, as many believe, particularly in the West, necessarily result in widespread imitation. On the contrary, it can contribute towards radicalisation of opposing ideologies. Key agents within the socialising processes of militants were different combinations of older militants, especially those who had spent time in Afghanistan, family members, teachers, peers and friends, who met at mosques both in Muslim 31 Reported to Hafez (2004: 81).


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and Western societies, schools, universities across the world, community associations and charities. There is evidence that people who become militants within Muslim majority countries are influenced both by family and peer relations. By comparison, individuals who have become radicalised in the West have tended to be more influenced by peers. These socialising agents are propagating discourse, sharing experiences and showing graphic images of atrocities that help motivate people to join terror groups. Within contexts where militant Islam has become embedded across socialising processes, al-Qa’ida and related groups are operating and attracting support. Al-Qa’ida is fully aware of the importance of connecting with Muslim consciousness across societies, a task made difficult by the group’s clandestine nature and consequent lack of community engagement and restricted opportunities to mobilise populations. Bin Laden’s deputy, Ayman al-Zawahiri (2001) has stressed that ‘the Jihad movement must come closer to the masses … and lead them to the path of guidance and victory. It must step forward in the arena of sacrifice and excel to get its message across in a way that makes the right accessible to all seekers.’ To help achieve this, al-Qa’ida has proved particularly adept at using modern communications to transmit messages both to specific audiences through websites and internationally through statements, interviews and recorded messages. They have been able to utilise concepts, duties and history that are part of the wider Muslim consciousness and connect with widespread anger over local and international events, in particular the highly controversial invasion and occupation of Iraq by American-led forces.32 Al-Qa’ida’s appeal is obviously not simply about the messages and methods of communication used within socialising processes. Actions undertaken which cause widespread repulsion within many Muslim communities have also attracted support as militants seek to influence identities through behaviour. Increasingly, there are signs that the methods and ideas associated with al-Qa’ida have developed autonomously of the ‘hardcore’ and have permeated broader social relations and activities. The eradication of bin Laden, al-Zawahiri and the remaining leaders of the ‘hardcore’ may weaken the movement, and the removal of professional guidance and support has reduced strategic clarity. Crucially though, the pervasiveness of Islamic militancy would remain a pernicious threat to ‘near’ and ‘far’ enemies. There are already clear indications that the further fragmentation of the movement has reduced the professional input and control that the ‘hardcore’ provided.33 This has contributed to groups undertaking unpopular attacks in places like Morocco, Jordan and Saudi Arabia that lack the symbolism of earlier attacks. In some respects, the movement’s strengths are also proving to be weaknesses. Because of the clandestine

32 For instance, following the 2005 bombings in London, one in four British Muslims expressed some understanding for the perpetrators’ feelings and motivations (YouGov poll, reported in Fielding, 2005). 33 For example, training for the Moroccan bombings was undertaken during camping trips led by people who had previously been trained in Afghanistan but were not part of the professional ‘hardcore’ (Sageman, 2004). The House of Commons (2006) report into the 7 July bombings highlights the potential significance of outward-bound activities for the London bombers.

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nature of the groups’ activities, recruitment is potentially problematic. In the West, in particular, recruitment is often instigated by individuals and groups, with possibilities of becoming part of the international jihad often linked to chance. These include meeting al-Qa’ida contacts, through informal connections, interconnecting with and/or undertaking processes of radicalisation amongst friends, which appears to have occurred in the two groups intending to attack London in 2005. And, as with many other terror groups, with the exception of popular nationalist groups, the psychological, if not physical, isolation that the groups feel from opposing or distant families and wider communities and society result in intensity and intolerance growing within the group. Comparing Socialisation Processes for Members Associated with Al-Qa’ida and Hamas Increasing numbers of Muslims learn about militant Islam through a variety of different agents including school, university, mosques, the media and informal social networks, in particular friends and family. The discourse which they are taught and internalise is legitimised by personal experiences and local and global socioeconomic, cultural and political conditions and actions that contribute to perceptions of humiliation and persecution. These experiences and events may be witnessed first hand or through the media. Being informed about militant discourse and exposure to societies in which extremists reside, whether that is in Southeast Asia, the Middle East, Africa or the West, and the interrelated international relations, result in an ‘incompatibility problem’ between ideology and reality. For militant Muslims who consider that other forms of Islam and Western ideologies have failed, that the international community is anti-Muslim and Muslim governments are disbelievers, terrorism is seen as the solution. Many Palestinians also become involved in terror groups over a gradual period of time, although there are also examples of people whose radicalisation is accelerated by experiences and social requirements.34 Close bonds need to be established with people associated with militancy and, in the case of the Palestinian territories, local communities, that exceeds other loyalties. Becoming part of groups also requires much more than individuals wanting to become involved. Pragmatically, the opportunity has to be achieved. Previously, potential Islamic transnational militants required contact, advice and legitimacy from the ‘hardcore’. To achieve this, individuals had to be vouched for. In other words, they had to have an accessible link and know someone who was a reliable component within the al-Qa’ida network and who could support their application. By comparison, because of the widespread integration of terror organisations and the population within the Palestinian territories and the much greater acceptance of undertaking violent activities, it is much easier for individuals to become part of militant organisations like Hamas and PIJ. Increasingly, however, there are signs that the weakening of control, communications and support provided by al-Qa’ida’s ‘hardcore’, allied conversely to the popularity of their transnational ideology and 34 Further details can be found in Kepel (2004b) and Victor (2004).


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methodology, is resulting in groups becoming even more autonomous and less reliant upon intermediaries. It is also noticeable that al-Qa’ida and Palestinian groups encourage a sense in which the social entity is more important than the individual, and religious duty is paramount. The groups all utilise the established Islamic concept of martyrdom and stress a ‘readiness to sacrifice our souls and dearest [possessions] in the path of Allah’ (Hamas Charter, 1988) that highlights a fearlessness that both inspires followers and frightens possible targets. At a practical level, this has resulted in suicide attacks being carried out.35 Reuter (2004: 169) has commented that ‘the struggle begins to count for more than life itself’. Individuals carrying out these attacks are being socialised to adopt relatively low levels of individualism and are dominated by social goals (Saghieh, 2002). Individuals take on some control over their destinies, and egotistically, many martyrs are under the impression that undertaking the actions will lead to salvation. Although there is disagreement over the methods used by Palestinian terror groups, there is agreement over the common objective of independence and support for uprisings, and to a lesser extent, martyrdom operations. This is despite evidence that existence for Palestinians in the territories has deteriorated since the second intifada commenced (Bloom, 2005). By comparison, members of al-Qa’ida have less popular support and indeed often live clandestinely within communities who do not share their discursive consciousness or methods. In cases of Palestinians who decide to become suicide bombers, they, their families or friends have referred to the sense of desperation, helplessness and anger that has permeated the territories. These feelings interact with individuals’ own experiences and problems, leading to people choosing to join groups or undertake acts of violence. In these circumstances Sarraj (2001) remarks that ‘the amazing thing is not the occurrence of the suicide bombing but rather the rarity of them’. Decisions are firmly rooted within what is happening in the territories, allied to disillusionment with international nations and organisations. The communities are often supportive of acts of terrorism because the individual and social reasons behind the acts are widely understood and supported (Hass, 2003a; Reuter, 2004). Roy (2004) points out that the Palestinian bombers tend to be socially well integrated into the communities. Consequently, militants’ goals are widely shared within the territories and, as the previous chapter established, there is considerable support for the suicide attackers and their families embedded within the communities, exemplified by the celebration and pride associated with suicide attacks. Groups linked to al-Qa’ida cannot be guaranteed to receive similar endorsements from the local communities, from whom they are often psychologically and ideologically distanced. And as Roy (2004) identifies, the September 2001 attackers were not integrated, living outside their communities as ‘cultural outcasts’. Unlike the proud parents of Palestinian bombers, families of those who died in the attacks on America expressed disbelief, denial and shame.

35 The significance of Islamic suicide bombers is discussed in more detail in Bloom (2005), Khosrokhavar (2005), Kimhi and Even (2004), Pedahzur (2004), Reuter (2004), Sutton and Vertigans (2005) and Victor (2004).

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The sense of desperation is also less immediately noticeable within al-Qa’idarelated perpetrators. Certainly, there are grounds to suggest that members of al-Qa’ida have generally encountered less conflicting experiences and trauma than Palestinians living in the occupied territories.36 But if the reasons for people joining al-Qa’idarelated groups and the motivations for actions are examined, then some similarities can be found with the Palestinians. The actions of al-Qa’ida are often driven by anger over a broader range of issues, actions and perceived threats from the West, and the acquiescence of Muslim governments and what bin Laden described as ‘eighty years of humiliation’. A strategy is in place that seeks to associate contemporary nationstates with preceding eras, most notably in bin Laden’s attempt to justify attacks through references to the West and the United States as crusaders and infidels. For many people associated with al-Qa’ida, the Palestinian problem is one factor among many that include other international disputes like Kashmir and Chechnya. International factors are therefore more instrumental within routes into al-Qa’ida, which are legitimised by events across the world. There is also greater usage of ‘virtual evidence’ from the Internet, videos, cassettes, DVDs and MP3 players in support of militancy. Arguably this is because Palestinians do not require extensive media sources to legitimise or strengthen their beliefs. Many are surrounded by justifying experiences. The global focus is reflected in commitment to the imagined international community and their sense of solidarity to defend Muslims across the world against persecution. The American-led ‘War on Terror’ has provided support for the militants’ messages, with increasing numbers of Muslims now considering their religion to be under attack. Yet many people across Muslim societies and communities who adopt extreme views have become associated with al-Qa’ida as a consequence of what happens in their home nation, whether that is a struggle for independence, opposition to governments, fights against poverty, humiliating circumstances, racism and oppression, Western cultural imperialism or events like American troops in Saudi Arabia. These factors are contributing to ‘a sense of desperation and humiliation … fuelled by a sense of powerlessness, revenge and religious fanaticism’ (Hassan, 2002: 234–5). Crucially, therefore, both Palestinian groups and al-Qa’ida associates are finding legitimacy for militant ideology in social relations and activities. And this legitimacy and interrelated socialising processes are enabling people to overcome, for many at the very least, initial reservations and commit violent actions.

36 Sageman’s (2004: 85) study discovered that the transnational militants studied had experienced ‘surprisingly little personal trauma in their lives’. Nor was there any evidence of pathological hatred or paranoia.

Chapter 4

Republican and Loyalist Terrorism in Northern Ireland Introduction Conflict in Northern Ireland1 between Protestant loyalists,2 who are widely considered to be supportive of the nation-state,3 and Catholic republicans,4 has been longstanding and is a consequence of a combination of factors. The post 1969 ‘Troubles’, as they are euphemistically known, are not, despite the application of religious denominations to the competing groups, based upon theology. Instead, the conflict has been caused by economic, political, social and cultural processes and activities. The situation has been further complicated by the involvement of the British army for over 35 years, creating a triumvirate of competing interests and loyalties. Since 1969, as a direct consequence of the conflict, over 3,500 people have been killed, in excess of 40,000 injured and thousands have lost their homes and livelihoods. It is a conflict that has affected people differently, with men and Catholics more likely to be killed or injured, and the working classes of both Protestants and Catholics most adversely affected. As Toolis (1995: 4) pointed out, the ‘Troubles’ are not a conventional war but a conflict where killing has been ‘directed, pinpointed, reserved for special occasions and places’. This chapter examines why people became so actively involved within forms of terrorism between the 1960s and 1990s, in a conflict that can be seen to have existed for centuries.

1 Numerous names are used to describe the region, including the six counties, the North of Ireland and Ulster. Northern Ireland is probably the least contentious and will be used throughout this chapter. 2 In this chapter, unionists refers to those Protestants who want to remain part of the union with Great Britain. Most unionists use, or support, democratic political processes. Loyalists are the more extreme unionists who have been willing to use violence to defend their interests. 3 Loyalist groups are widely considered to be ‘pro-state’ because, as Bruce (1992: 269) observes, they are willing to use violence to protect the state from perceived enemies. It should, however, be noted that Northern Ireland as a separate entity is not a nation-state but a region of the United Kingdom. Consequently unionists are generally supportive of the state of the United Kingdom and wish to remain part of the UK. However, some loyalist paramilitaries have, at various times, demanded a separate unionist state. 4 Nationalists are predominantly Catholics who wish to be part of a united Ireland. Republicans are defined as nationalists who have been willing to use violence to help achieve this.

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Considerable research5 has been undertaken into the multifarious historical, economic and political reasons behind the conflict and the paramilitary groups. It is not proposed to duplicate these studies. Instead, aspects central to the purposes of this book are drawn upon and integrated to provide the basis for a succinct examination of terror groups within Northern Ireland. In keeping with the central aims of the book, primary attention is placed upon developing an understanding of why people became, what are widely referred to in the region, paramilitaries. For this chapter that means identifying the interplay between experiences of socio-economics, power relations, social processes and identity formations, that led to people becoming members of republican groups like the Irish Republican Army (IRA), the Irish National Liberation Army (INLA) and various splinter groups, or of loyalist groups like the Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF), the Ulster Defence Association/Ulster Freedom Fighters (UDA/UFF) and the Loyalist Volunteer Force (LVF). Because historical events have retained a symbolic importance within both loyalist and republican interpretations of the conflict, it is important to establish some of the central happenings that remain influential. Consequently the chapter commences with an outline of the development of the conflict. It is not an exhaustive analysis but is designed to provide sufficient knowledge to help understand the subsequent development of the conflict. This section leads into an examination of the ways that the past influences the present and the role of recent experiences and socialising processes upon contemporary behaviour and identities. And because community relations are integral to both understanding the evolution of the conflict and assessing the possibilities for embedded peace, attention is placed upon broader social relationships. The chapter concludes with a tentative assessment of the chances that the ongoing peace process can overcome centuries of conflict and divisive components immersed within processes of socialisation. Historical Development of the ‘Troubles’ Analysis of contemporary representations of the ‘Troubles’ quickly highlights the importance of historical events and the symbols of the past that have been redefined to provide meaning in current contexts. The plantations, the Great or Potato Famine, King Billy, the Apprentice Boys, Hunger Strikes and Orange marches are all emotive and controversial features of Northern Irish society that influence how recent events are defined. It is, however, difficult to trace this influence to one particular incident. Instead, there are a myriad of events that collectively provide frameworks of reference that arguably began in the twelfth century when King Henry II of England established control in an area close to Dublin. Over the next four centuries, the English sought to expand their power across Ireland with limited success. But by the sixteenth century, English control had been achieved over large parts of the island. The notable exception was the northern province of Ulster where 5 There is a multitude of texts looking at the conflict, including Bishop and Mallie (1988), Bruce (1992a, 1992b), Coogan (1995), Crawford (2003), Cusack and McDonald (1997), English (2003), McDonald and Cusack (2005), Moloney (2002), Taylor (1998, 2000) and Toolis (1995).


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resistance was gradually defeated. In 1609, the Plantation of Ulster was introduced to strengthen British dominance over the indigenous population and to serve wider political interests, namely to deter invasions by Catholic France or Spain. This was achieved by encouraging predominantly Protestant migrants from England, Scotland and Wales who were attracted by offers of significant land. These migrants competed with the indigenous population for economic resources (Bishop and Mallie, 1988; Coogan, 1995). Catholics who had previously owned the land were exiled to the mountains and less fertile ground. Discriminatory penal laws were introduced that included the closure of Catholic educational institutions. The success of the plantations in meeting British objectives could be partly measured by Protestant involvement alongside Dutch Prince William of Orange (King Billy) in the 1690 Battle of the Boyne.6 Victory and the role of the Protestant Apprentice Boys in the siege of (London)Derry7 between 1668 and 1669 have become ingrained within both populations’ consciousness. The events are celebrated in Orange Order parades that take place throughout the annual marching season and are seen to be mechanisms of reinforcing Protestant superiority and concomitant Catholic inferiority. But while both populations stress continuity with the past and related symbols, as Halliday (1998) observes, many of the historical ‘facts’8 have been redefined and the limited involvement of both populations in the battle and siege is overlooked. The advent of competition over resources and the separation of Catholics and Protestants contributed to psychological as well as physical distance between the groups. Different languages and cultural practices further reinforced division. Opportunities for communication and the utilisation of many similarities they shared were limited. Instead, religious and cultural differences became markers that distinguished groups. Catholics were resentful about the loss of land and frequently rebelled, while the Protestants lived under the threat of attack and loss of territory. Both groups considered the ‘other’ to be threatening (Bishop and Mallie, 1988; Dunn, 1995). These impressions became part of socialising experiences, transmitted across generations so that even today these images remain. And as Bruce (1992: 7) noted prior to the Good Friday agreement, ‘little or nothing that has happened … since settlement has brought the two populations any closer together’. In 1800, the relationship between Britain and Ireland was augmented in the Act of Union, with the British Parliament assuming responsibility for governing Ireland, in part to further undermine native opposition and reduce vulnerability to attack by neighbouring nation-states. Despite extensive discrimination, widespread food shortages, most notably associated with the Potato Famine during the 1840s, and numerous attempts to overthrow British rule, the Union remained intact at the

6 Prince William’s army defeated the Catholic King James II. 7 Protestants refer to the city as Londonderry, while Catholics call it Derry. 8 Halliday (1998) points out that the marches and associated regalia were the products of working class culture from the 1860s. The Orange Order, which Moloney (2002: 44) argues ‘became an instrument of sectarian division and privilege’, did not emerge until the eighteenth century, founded by Anglo-Irish middle classes, both to celebrate Protestant successes and to resist Catholic and radical Protestant demands for Irish independence.

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beginning of the twentieth century.9 Throughout this period, sectarian riots were commonplace. Some concessions were made to improve Catholic living and working conditions but failed to fully address experiences of discrimination. Protestants considered that these changes would threaten their dominance and began to form their own military groups to defend privileges, beginning in the late eighteenth century with the Peep O’Day Boys (Moloney, 2002). Military activism amongst Protestant groups was to become a noticeable feature during subsequent periods when their dominance or identities were being challenged. For instance, in 1912, unionist resistance arose over Home Rule for Ireland which the British government passed to grant Ireland its own parliament. The unionists considered this to be a significant step towards Irish independence which they vehemently opposed. Under their recognised leader, Edward Carson, the Ulster Covenant10 was produced and signed by just under 500,000 Protestants. Deciding that military action would be required to resist Irish independence, Carson formed the UVF. However, the advent of the First World War occurred before any rebellion took place. The UVF enlisted as a division in the British army in return, it is believed, for the postponement of the Home Rule Bill (Bruce, 1992). Many thousands were killed in the war, particularly during the Battle of the Somme. The UVF’s commitment to defending the Union and sacrifice ‘has become central to the imaginative narratives of memory underpinning loyalist self identification’ (Graham and Shirlow, 2002: 888), and the year of the battle (1916) has become highly symbolic (Cusack and McDonald, 1997; Taylor, 2000). Nationalist protests continued at the start of the twentieth century. In April 1916, a small group of rebels, led by Padraig Pearse and James Connolly, under the banner of Sinn Féin, seized the General Post Office building in Dublin. The group proclaimed themselves to be the provisional government of the new republic of Ireland, and for the first time the IRA became prominent. However, the rebellion was chaotic, lacked popular support and was quickly crushed. Many republicans were killed and some executed, including Connolly and Pearse (Bishop and Mallie, 1988; Coogan, 1995). But as Pearse had predicted, their willingness to sacrifice themselves led to them being subsequently declared martyrs, ‘remembered by posterity and blessed by unborn generations’.11 The rebellion, and in particular the reaction of the British, raised awareness of republicanism and increased sympathy for Sinn Féin. Political support was mobilised as British occupation continued. At the British general election that followed the end of the First World War, Sinn Féin won an overwhelming majority of Irish seats and abstained from taking up their seats in the British Parliament. Instead, they established their own Parliament and issued a declaration of independence. Popular support for the party legitimised the struggle against British occupation. Between 1919 and 1921 the IRA, led by Michael Collins, used guerrilla tactics against the British army in the Anglo-Irish war. The 9 For instance, a number of groups, such as the United Irishmen, who were led by a Presbyterian Theobald Wolfe Tone, emphasising the broader appeal of early republicanism, the Fenians and the Irish Republican Brotherhood, sought to bring about independence. 10 The Covenant stated an intention to defend the Union. 11 Pearse is quoted in Bishop and Mallie (1988: 26).


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brutality of the British forces helped further mobilise support for the IRA. In 1921, a stalemate had been reached and both sides agreed to a truce to enable negotiations about the future of Ireland to be undertaken. Negotiations were complicated by the presence of approximately one million Protestants in the north east where they constituted a majority and continued to support unionism. And the threat that the unionists offered to the British government prior to the First World War remained. In 1921, a settlement was agreed that partitioned Ireland into Northern Ireland, with Britain retaining ultimate authority, and the Irish Free State, subsequently to be named the Republic of Ireland. Northern Ireland consisted of six counties (out of nine) in the north east that were part of Ulster and where Protestants were a majority. The remaining 26 counties became part of the Republic. The settlement was not universally popular within the Catholic community and a civil war ensued between those in support and the IRA who fought for a united Ireland. The IRA lacked widespread support and was defeated by Irish government forces. However, even the successful forces did not consider partition to be permanent. Support for this belief can be found in the Government of Ireland Act that was passed by the British Parliament, which considered the settlement to lead to the final solution in which a parliament for the whole of Ireland would be established. Ultimately though, the compromise between nationalist and unionist demands, threats and frequent acts of rebellion from both sides ultimately prevented the implementation of the ‘final solution’. At this stage, it should be stressed that this emphasis upon events between 80 and 800 years ago does not imply that the contemporary ‘Troubles’ are simply the consequence of history. On the contrary, they would not have arisen without the problems that have arisen following partition. Competing perceptions of pre 1921 do, however, remain instrumental, providing frames of reference that are redefined and used to help understand recent events. In turn, events of the latter period such as ‘Bloody Sunday’ and ‘Bloody Friday’ are defined within frames of reference that draw upon historical interpretations. Post Partition to Peace Process In the post partition period, it quickly became apparent that the division had become well grounded. The likelihood of achieving a united Ireland in the near future through peaceful means was limited. The IRA tried to agitate opposition and undertook a number of violent campaigns throughout the 1920s and 1950s. During the 1930s, the organisation formally ended its struggle with the southern state and concentrated upon attacking British and shortly afterwards Northern Irish targets. Between 1956 and 1962 the IRA carried out the Border Campaign that targeted the boundary area. This campaign, like other post partition operations, proved to be ineffective, achieved limited military success and attracted little interest among nationalists in both the north and south of Ireland. Yet while their actions were restricted, with little strategic impact, the IRA campaigns ensured that they remained prominent within unionist fears both about the enemy within and in the Republic (Bruce, 1992). Indeed perceptions of the threat exceeded reality and over-inflated the IRA’s capabilities and

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level of support. This exaggeration was to influence loyalist behaviour during the disputes of the 1960s. Following the end of the 1956–62 campaign, the IRA dumped their arms with their military campaign ended and the leadership concentrated upon developing and disseminating Marxist ideology. During the 1960s, the different populations in Northern Ireland remained firmly separated, over 40 years after the region was created. Catholics were grossly underrepresented as a consequence of discrimination by the British and Protestant leaders. In the aftermath of partition, Catholic situations within the six counties deteriorated. Sectarian rioting occurred, many members of both populations, although there were more Catholics, were killed and thousands of Catholics lost their jobs and homes and lacked political representation; although as Murray (1995) suggests, many Catholics initially chose not to participate politically, in part because there was popular feeling that the six-county state was unfeasible and its existence would be short term. The dominance of Protestants and ‘Britishness’ within the new political administration and security apparatus caused distrust and deterred Catholics from becoming involved in decision making. As a consequence there was limited constitutional opposition to Northern Irish structures and policies. Vertical and horizontal inequalities within employment were embedded and segregation divided many housing estates. Many of the mixed areas were to be ‘cleansed’ of the minority group, whether that was Protestant or Catholic. Following a change in leadership, amidst rising protests and ethnic clashes around the world, the Northern Ireland government made some concessions and symbolic gestures towards Catholic concerns of discrimination and human rights (Bruce, 1992; Coogan, 1995). The proposals and symbolism fuelled Protestants’ long-held views that they were under threat. Many unionists were concerned that changes would undermine their rights, challenge ways of life and ultimately begin the process of accession into a united Ireland. Unionist anger took many forms, ranging from pulpit denunciations from leading Presbyterian ministers like Ian Paisley to inflammatory marches and rioting. At the extreme of the spectrum of unionist sentiments was the newly formed loyalist UVF who killed three Catholics in two random sectarian attacks in 1966. The attacks were widely condemned by both populations but were to be followed by many more. The Northern Irish government further alienated many Catholics with an approach that Moloney (2002: 53) describes as ‘cosmetic, patronizing, and at times insulting’. Expectations had been raised that improvements would be delivered to the emerging Catholic middle class and a better educated population (Farrell, 1976; Moloney, 2002). However, real progress was limited, poverty was endemic, unemployment remained widespread and promotion prospects were restricted. Consequently, many Catholics became disillusioned with the reform process. Having lost faith in the ability or conviction of the Northern Irish government to deliver change, people became active in protest through democratic participation and civil demonstrations. These culminated in the civil rights movement led by the Northern Ireland Civil Rights Association (NICRA). NICRA campaigned for equal rights, ending discrimination in the allocation of jobs and housing, and gerrymandering electoral wards that gave Protestants disproportionate political representation. A number of these grievances were to varying degrees shared by the Protestant working classes. However, NICRA


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did not attract support across the sectarian divisions and remained closely associated with the Catholic community.12 NICRA was quickly confronted by the police force, the Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC),13 and protesting unionists, who considered the movement to be republicans in another guise, aiming to destabilise the province. Working class Protestants also had their expectations raised but, like their Catholic peers, remained in poverty, with poor standard housing and inadequate facilities. Consequently, many became incensed after witnessing the civil rights demands for equality for Catholics.14 In the official inquiry into the subsequent violence, it was declared that NICRA: campaigned only on civil rights issues, but in practice its activities tended to polarize the Northern Ireland community in traditional directions. It was bound to attract opposition from many Protestant Unionists who saw or professed to see its success as a threat to their supremacy, indeed to their survival as a community (Disturbance in Northern Ireland, 1969: 12).15

Rival rallies and scenes of severe violence became commonplace as confrontations arose between civil rights protestors and the RUC, which resulted in the death of a Catholic after a severe beating by the RUC. Children, although in a minority, were reported to be involved in rioting, intimidation, firebombing, attacks on the police and army, and burning houses (Cairns, 1987). In this context, marches of the Orange Order gained greater symbolic significance and led to nationalist rioting, stirring republican sentiments and activists. Conflict spread beyond the immediate environments in which marches and protests were crossing over into surrounding neighbourhoods. Attacks were made on minority groups within mixed housing areas and houses were burnt down. Thousands of evacuees were forced to leave the area for greater security within their ‘own’ communities. These experiences were to prove instrumental in the radicalisation of significant sectors of both populations. For instance, IRA members have reported on the impact of being forced out of family homes and feelings of anger and humiliation. Others have commented upon the resultant sense of futility about peaceful protest that strongly influenced their decisions to join the paramilitary group (Fairweather, McDonough and McFadyean, 1984; MacDonald, 1991; Toolis, 1995). Recruitment to loyalist paramilitary groups also rose. These groups bombed utility installations in attacks that were initially blamed upon the IRA, escalating sectarian tensions and reinforcing fears about republican terrorism. At this period, as Bruce (1992) has pointed out, the widely held view, particularly in loyalist circles, that the UVF, and later UDA/UFF, were reactive groups against republican violence, is clearly unfounded. This view was subsequently to become embedded within the loyalist strategy of ‘terrorising the terrorists’. At this stage in the conflict, unionists certainly felt threatened and a number of loyalists joined the UVF initially to 12 Further details can be found in Arthur (1974), Farrell (1976), McCann (1974) and Purdie (1990). 13 The RUC has been renamed the Police Service of Northern Ireland (PSNI). 14 Bruce (1992), McDonald and Cusack (2005) and Taylor (2000) discuss this in detail. 15 The report was widely known as the Cameron Report.

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undertake what they considered preventive action against republicans (Bruce, 1992; McDonald and Cusack, 2005; Taylor, 2000). But at this time the capacity of the IRA was overestimated. With the police increasingly struggling to manage the escalating violence, the Northern Irish government requested assistance. When the ‘Troubles’ began, the UK government was noticeably under prepared. In light of its delegation of responsibilities to the self- (Protestant) rule in the province and ‘legacy of years of neglect and noninterference on the part of … successive British governments’ (Taylor, 1998: 128) this was perhaps predictable. The preceding disinterest meant that the government lacked an in-depth grasp of the underlying causes of the conflict. A number of illadvised policies followed that may have contributed to prolonging the violence. In August 1969, British soldiers were deployed to provide military assistance. Initially, as has been well documented, the British army were considered to be bringing peace to the streets and were welcomed by the Catholic communities. The welcome was partly a consequence of the IRA’s military weakness to provide effective defence of the community after the abandonment of the armed struggle in 1962. However, the subsequent resurgence of the IRA and the British army’s increasing prominence16 within Catholic areas led to the latter being increasingly considered to be part of the problem and a legitimate target for attack. The IRA was also ill prepared to address the violence that arose during the 1960s. There was considerable debate within the republican movement about how to react to events, to protect Catholic communities and ensure that they were not again defenceless against both loyalist and British army assault. Disagreement over the ideological approach of the post 1962 IRA leaders and the demand amongst other sectors for greater military capacity contributed to divisions within the IRA. Following further disagreement over the long-held principle of ‘abstentionism’ from recognising British, Northern Irish or Irish political legitimacy, the IRA split in 1970. Two groups were formed: the Official IRA17 who wanted to participate in, and bring about socialist reforms through, the democratic process; and the Provisional IRA who continued to supported abstention. This denunciation of participatory politics united the opposition who had a ‘distrust of politics … and an unshakeable belief in the correctness of armed struggle’ (Moloney, 2002: 79), and can also be noticed in the manner in which Sinn Féin was subservient to the IRA’s Army Council. Military objectives took precedence over political aims. Most IRA units immediately or shortly afterwards joined the Provisional IRA, locally known as the Provos. The Provos introduced defence committees and patrolled Catholic areas, and quickly attained dominance within the republican movement to become widely acknowledged as

16 For example, the British army became involved in quelling Catholic protests, enforcing curfews, carrying out mass arrests and house searches. Violence was increasingly used against local communities, and the apparent reluctance of the military to prevent unionist protests and attacks led to the role of the army being quickly re-evaluated. 17 Following a couple of ill-fated attacks, the Official IRA declared a ceasefire and concentrated upon ideological transformation with little impact.


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the IRA.18 The events of 1969 and the early 1970s helped strengthen the sense of community and also mobilised support for republicanism. As one respondent told Fairweather, McDonough and McFadyean (1984: 194), young people ‘saw what was happening … saw that what the IRA had been saying for years maybe wasn’t wrong after all … They realised that it [violence and suppression] would continue to get worse unless we organised … That’s why they flocked to the IRA.’ The Provos’ ‘effectiveness’ in defending communities became particularly noticeable in June 1970 when an Orange march towards Catholic areas was attacked and three ‘loyalists’ were killed. Martin Meehan, an IRA leader at the time, suggests that this episode legitimised the IRA to the local community because ‘the whole broad spectrum of the nationalist people actually supported what the IRA were doing’.19 There are serious doubts about the extent to which the whole community supported the IRA. However, there were clear signs that a widespread acknowledgement existed within the Catholic population that neither the army nor police force could be relied upon and therefore there was a requirement for paramilitary protection. Gerry Adams makes similar points in respect to the outcome of a curfew imposed in 1970 during which the British army forcibly entered many houses to seize weaponry. In the process, many innocent people were injured and four civilians killed. These events, Adams (1996: 141) declares, resulted in ‘thousands of people who had never been republicans now gave their active support to the IRA; others, who had never had any time for physical force now accepted it as a practical necessity’. Brendan Hughes, an influential figure within the IRA, stated that, like many others, his witnessing as a youngster of the defence of his school by armed paramilitaries resulted in ‘a sense of pride and a feeling that we had something to protect ourselves with. I wanted to be involved too because our whole community felt that we were under attack.’20 Levels of violence spiralled during the 1970s as loyalists also strengthened their defence arrangements and street-patrolling gangs. IRA activities against Protestants and the presence of the British army strengthened feelings of a threat that required loyalists to be both defensive and aggressive. As a loyalist paramilitary, William Smith, told Taylor (2000: 80), ‘we believed that if loyalists did not take on that [proactive] role, then eventually the Provos would have their way because the British Government would just bow to the pressure’. Sectarian attacks increased and the armed forces became subjected to growing levels of resentment from Catholic communities and violence from the IRA. In a deepening vicious circle, republicans like the leader Martin Meehan believed that ‘after the events of 1970 and with the aggression the British soldiers were showing in early 1971 … [i]t [volunteers’ demands for military operations against the British army] was like the tide coming in. It was inevitable at that stage.’21 Recruitment to loyalist paramilitary groups was boosted by perceptions of the threat which republicans were seen to pose and reactions to particular IRA attacks. Connecting into the broader feelings of being under attack 18 The decision to end the provisional period was formally announced at Sinn Féin’s annual conference that was held in October 1970 (Taylor, 1998). 19 Meehan is quoted in Taylor (1998: 74). 20 Hughes is quoted in Taylor (1998: 53). 21 Meehan is quoted in Taylor (1998: 89).

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and therefore reactive, ‘Ken’ informed Crawford (2003: 69) that ‘the Catholics were killing us, they were Catholics, so Protestants would kill them in retaliation’. These perceptions appeared to be widespread. For instance, Billy McQuiston joined the UDA following an IRA bombing on the Shankhill Road that killed four people and which led him to conclude that ‘because we’re Protestants, they’re going to kill us so we’re going to have to do something here’ (Taylor, 2000: 90). McQuiston subsequently felt that ‘every single bullet that was fired and every single bomb that we heard about was personal. We just felt we had to fight back’ (ibid). The number of civilians killed by the paramilitaries, RUC and British army grew. In an effort to stem the violence, Stormont introduced internment in August 1971. Internment enabled the armed forces to arrest and detain individuals who were acting, had acted or were about to act ‘in a manner prejudicial to the preservation of the peace and maintenance of order’ (Boyle, Hadden and Hillyard, 1975: 16). Many innocent male Catholics were arrested and detained without trial, creating tremendous resentment and provoking further recruitment to the republican paramilitary groups and violent confrontations with the armed forces. To try to control the situation, in March 1972 the Northern Irish parliament at Stormont was dissolved and Westminster assumed responsibility for the region (Coogan, 1995; Coulter, 1999). Unionists reacted immediately and announced a two-day strike. Tens of thousands of Protestants descended on Stormont to express their anger (Bruce, 1992), raising tensions further. Many joined paramilitary groups to fight against the perceived republican threat to livelihoods, lives and lifestyles that they felt were not being addressed by the government. As one loyalist paramilitary told Bruce (1992: 198) ‘there would be no need for the UVF if the government was doing its job properly. We had to step in to fill a vacuum. It was a matter of survival.’ Disorder was rife and explosions and killings were mounting as the paramilitaries stepped up their activities. Anger reached fever pitch when the British Parachute Regiment shot dead 13 unarmed civilians who had been taking part in an anti-internment march on 30 January 1972. ‘Bloody Sunday’, as it was to become widely known, became hugely symbolic within nationalist protests, mobilising significant numbers to support and join republican organisations.22 Studies23 of republican paramilitaries who became involved in the violence at this time have consistently identified the impact these experiences had upon decisions to join the armed struggle. Many Catholics felt as Seamus, an IRA volunteer, explains in Toolis (1995: 105) that ‘there was a sense that this was the time to change things and stop being pushed around, stop being downtrodden. “Let’s get off our knees and do something – start fighting back.”’ At the same time, British soldiers were adjusting to their changing status from saviours to targets, and their experiences of hostility, violent attacks and deaths of members of the local population and comrades. It was within this context that army perceptions of Catholic communities deteriorated and hardened, and helps to explain soldiers’ antagonistic attitudes and frequently brutal behaviour. ‘Jim’, a soldier interviewed 22 Further details can be found in Bishop and Mallie (1988), Coogan (1995), Moloney (2002) and Taylor (1998). 23 For example, Coogan (1995), Moloney (2002), Taylor (1998) and Toolis (1995).


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by Taylor (1998: 96), explained that ‘when you see these blokes [close colleagues] being stretchered out of flats, or dying in gutters … it makes you bloody bitter. It makes you angry … and it fills you with hate … I hated the people in those areas with an intensity that used to make me feel almost physically sick when I heard them speak.’ In July 1972, the IRA planted 26 bombs in Belfast that killed nine people on a day that became known as ‘Bloody Friday’. The attacks caused tremendous shock, anger and hatred. Like ‘Bloody Sunday’ for the Catholic population, ‘Bloody Friday’ resulted in a surge of support for the loyalist paramilitary groups and membership rose.24 For example, the influential David Ervine (1953–2007), who was subsequently elected to the Northern Ireland Assembly for the Protestant Unionist Party, joined the UVF at this time because the bombings which killed his namesake, who was the same age, forced him to get ‘off the fence and … [he] felt that the best means of defence was attack’ (Taylor, 2000: 108–9). Paramilitary attacks often led to reciprocal onslaughts as ‘tit for tat’ killings were commonplace. This reciprocity is developed in a number of narratives, exemplified by Eddie Kinnear, a member of the UVF, who explained that at the time, his views were that ‘whenever they [the IRA] blow up a location in the Shankhill [Protestant area], killing one or two people, I would want to blow up somewhere in the Falls [Catholic area] killing double’ (Taylor, 2000: 91). And the deaths of family, friends, neighbours and people who shared similar characteristics25 created further anger and resentment and further boosted recruitment for the paramilitary groups. People deemed innocent were particularly emotive, like a ‘three year old child. I felt that this isn’t a game here any more, these people [the IRA] are out to slaughter us. They’re going to kill us all, we’re going to have to do something about this.’26 Towards the end of 1973, the Catholic population was feeling increasingly threatened by loyalist paramilitaries. It was becoming apparent to some within the IRA’s leadership that the armed campaign was failing to deliver the intended goals (Coogan, 1995; Taylor, 1998). A truce was called. Loyalists, however, continued with their violent activities and expanded their activities to the Republic of Ireland. And in reaction to the latest British government’s initiative, a short-lived powersharing Executive, loyalists killed 22 people in Dublin on 17 May 1974. During the republican truce, secret negotiations took place with the British government, but these failed to deliver meaningful progress. In 1976, the republicans’ campaign of violence was gradually resumed. This year was also notable for the removal of the special category status that intended to criminalise both republican and loyalist paramilitaries and had a huge impact upon the ‘Troubles’. Republican protest

24 Crawford (2003), Cusack and McDonald (1997), Dillon (2004) and McDonald and Cusack (2005) discuss this in detail. 25 ‘Gordon’ refers to the sense in which the conflict became personal for him when hearing about a republican bomb in Belfast which exploded at a time when his wife and children were shopping (unharmed) in the city (Crawford, 2003: 175). A number of other paramilitaries also referred to their involvement being influenced by feelings that threatened their personal security or a belief that the conflict had become personalised. 26 ‘Billy’, in conversation with Crawford (2003: 81).

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resulted in the Hunger Strikes, public and media attention shifted from paramilitary operations to what was happening inside the prisons and ultimately the movement was revitalised (Bishop and Mallie, 1988; Clarke, 1987; English, 2003). Prisoners jailed after the removal of the special category status refused to accept prison clothes and began to clothe themselves in blankets, which became known as living ‘on the blanket’. The refusal to wear prison uniforms was dealt with harshly and prisoners were punished. Protest quickly escalated into the ‘dirty protest’, when prisoners refused to wash and smeared excrement on their cell walls (Bishop and Mallie, 1988; Coogan, 2002; McKeown, 2001). Initially the protest received considerable local and international media attention. But after four years, the prisoners realised that it was not going to bring about a shift in British policy. In 1980 the republican prisoners decided upon a new policy, the hunger strike, when a number of prisoners chose to fast to death unless their five demands, principally about their status and privileges, were met. In this sense, while the hunger strikers were fasting for secular demands, the symbolism of sacrifice and fasting within nationalist history and Catholicism was utilised to enhance support and levels of legitimacy.27 The first hunger strike was called off when republicans believed that the British government would make concessions which did not materialise. Consequently, in 1981 a second fast commenced and Bobby Sands was the first prisoner to refuse food. Shortly after he had begun his hunger strike, the nationalist MP for Fermanagh-South Tyrone, Frank Maguire, died. After considerable debate within the republican movement, it was decided that Sands should contest the seat, campaigning on the five prisoners’ demands. He won and the campaign and victory reignited nationalist sentiments and popular support. This electoral success was to prove instrumental in the slow evolution of republican political participation. The subsequent slow, painful deaths of ten hunger strikers created powerful images that were transmitted across the world through various local and international media (Coogan, 2002; Mulcahy, 1995). The hunger strike ended in October 1981 after some families authorised medical intervention, and support was diminishing. In the short term they could be seen to have failed. The five demands were not granted. However, in the longer term people were influenced by the dedication and sacrifice of the prisoners, support for republican groups was mobilised, and many, particularly among the young, joined the IRA and INLA who were both represented among the hunger strikers. And the political achievements gained during this period were to prove instrumental in the gradual politicisation of the nationalist struggle and the adoption of the twin-track approach of ‘armalite and ballot box’. Beyond Northern Ireland, the hunger strikes attracted remarkable international interest that raised the profile both of prison conditions and the wider struggle. Many peoples’ perceptions of republicanism were transformed at this stage.28 Ironically, paramilitary prisoners were to be gradually

27 For further details, see Coulter (1999), Fairweather, McDonough and McFadyean (1984), Feldman (1991), McKeown (2001), O’Malley (1990) and Yuill (2007). 28 Coogan (1995), Fairweather, McDonough and McFadyean (1984), McCann in Kerr (1996), Moloney (2002) and Toolis (1995) discuss these issues in detail.


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and covertly granted special privileges that would have probably satisfied the hunger strikers’ demands. In the immediate aftermath of the hunger strikes, it seemed that little had changed. Loyalist and republican paramilitaries continued to attack representatives of the other’s community. The IRA pursued its war with British forces and began one of its periodic campaigns in England, carrying out most notably the Brighton bombing in 1984 which blew up the hotel where the Conservative Party were staying for their annual conference. Support for the UVF and UDA had undergone resurgence during the hunger strikes, with many paramilitaries joining and rejoining the groups. It was a time when, as Billy Giles, a member of the UVF (quoted in Taylor, 2000: 3), stated, ‘Protestants were fearful of what was going to happen … They feared there was going to be an uprising and they were all going to be slaughtered … Many of us who had left, came back.’ But there were signs towards the end of the 1980s that significant elements within both populations were desperate for the killing to end. The triumvirate of military forces had become fatigued with the seemingly endless, futile killing and morale was low. Republicans, in particular, were under increasing pressure both from increasingly effective counter-terrorism tactics from the British military and more focused loyalist attacks. For the republicans, the British army’s ‘shoot to kill’ policy had proved effective. And the Enniskillen bomb, which went off prematurely, killing civilians, created tremendous anger within both populations and contributed to the IRA losing considerable nationalist support. Against this backdrop of violence and despair, the desire for peace that culminated in the Good Friday Agreement became noticeable (Taylor, 1998). The peace process has been tortuously slow. Paramilitaries continued campaigns of violence. Following the Anglo-Irish agreement29 in 1985, the number of recruits30 to loyalist paramilitary groups and people killed per year increased considerably. As Taylor (1998: 345) observes, this was a familiar pattern: ‘the closer the Government seemed to be getting to the Provisionals, the more active the loyalist paramilitaries became’. At the same time, the IRA carried out high profile attacks, most notably bombing the financial centre of London and erroneously killing ten people in an attack on a Protestant fish shop. Deaths of innocent people were contributing to the republicans losing popular support. In 1994 the IRA acknowledged the stalemate and declared a ceasefire which would enable negotiations to take place with the British government. Loyalists, who were also losing support and experiencing conflict fatigue, added substance to the perception that they were reactive to republican violence and subsequently declared a ceasefire. The peace process was now firmly on track and groups’ ideologies became the source of greater focus.

29 The Anglo-Irish Agreement established a British and Irish conference that dealt with issues of concern to Catholics within Northern Ireland. Unionists felt threatened because they considered this to begin the process of forcing Northern Ireland out of the UK, although the agreement stressed that the status of Northern Ireland would only change with the support of the majority of the population (Bruce, 1992; Taylor, 2000). 30 The leading loyalist, Billy ‘King Rat’ Wright, was one of those who was believed to have rejoined the paramilitaries as a result of the agreement (Dillon, 2004).

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Ideologies for Violence and Peace Clearly Protestant and Catholic communities in Northern Ireland hold different ideological beliefs grounded in a synthesis of historical interpretations and contemporary experiences. These experiences often provide a prism through which to interpret historical events and contribute towards the adaptation of a range of ideological positions within and between Catholic and Protestant communities. People hold different ideologies according to their individual preferences and the cross-cutting influences of socio-economic status, ethnicity, gender and religion, and on occasion, inter-community unity has been promoted through socialism by the Official IRA (Coogan, 1995). Women tend to be better represented within nationalist parties compared to unionists, a pattern that reflected paramilitary involvement.31 However, ideologies have tended to be limited in their breadth and ambition, with politics dominated by sectarian allegiance and parties’ positions on nationalism and union. There is a strong concentration upon local grievances and aspirations. Despite associations with different political philosophies (for example, both Sinn Féin and sections within the UVF have espoused socialist values), broad ideological debates and loyalties associated with the Christian Democrats and Social Democrats in Germany, Republicans and Democrats in America, and Conservatives and Labour in Britain do not exist. Indeed in Northern Ireland, these debates often take place between different political philosophies within parties and national and ethnic allegiances. Within Catholic communities, nationalism based around perceptions of Irish identity tends to be prominent. Many Catholics, especially those associated with the SDLP, consistently argued that greater unity with the Republic could be achieved through peaceful political means. Sinn Féin sought similar goals, but the means to achieve the ends have also included supporting violence. However, there have been fluctuations in the policies followed. For example, the ill-fated socialist approach adopted by the IRA following the 1956–62 campaign (see above) placed the emphasis upon politics and aimed to bring about change through a class-based coalition of both Catholics and Protestants. And most notably, the recent peace process has highlighted that Sinn Féin, who along with the IRA had been deeply suspicious and antagonistic to parliamentary participation, now placed primary importance on engaging with the populace through the political process. Throughout the modern history of Anglo-Irish relations, nationalist interpretations of sovereignty and territorial communities have mobilised popular opposition to the British nation31 However, while more women have been known for their involvement within republican groups, for example, the Price sisters and Mairead Farrell, republican paramilitary groups and the symbolism associated with the conflict have tended to be dominated by men. Images of male fighters and their sacrifices dominate, while women are depicted as ‘mothers of the nation’ or cornerstones of the community (McKie and Yuill, 2005; Moore, 2004; Rolston, 1991). The marginalised role of women within the conflict can also be noticed in the number of people killed between 1969 and 2001. During this period, 323 women were killed out of a total of 3,523 people (Sutton, 2002). This imbalance can also be found within academic studies of the ‘Troubles’, where Coulter (1999) and Brewer (2001) point out that gender issues and the role of women tend to be neglected.


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state. The proclamation of the Irish Republic made during the 1916 Easter Rising remained the central goal. However, allegiance to the concept of a united Ireland has fluctuated dramatically over the last century. After the formation of the Republic, the movement for a united Ireland only became prominent during the late 1960s when popular protest against inequality and suppression was interwoven with the historical and ideological roots of republicanism (Toolis, 1995). Over recent years, both the main nationalist parties have moved towards similar positions in accepting the right of the Northern Irish population to choose the extent to which the country continues to belong to the United Kingdom or becomes part of a united Ireland. Increasingly the concern of the nationalist parties in the short term ‘is not to end British rule … but rather to embellish the rights of Irish nationalists who happen to remain British citizens’ (Coulter, 1999: 46). Political concerns, Coulter (ibid) argues, are now arising more out of ethnic rather than nationalist sentiments. Unionists also differ in their ideological loyalties. Despite popular perceptions, there is no uniform British identity. Indeed paramilitary groups have at various times proposed independence for Ulster. Colley (1992: 322–3) writes that historically, while British nationalism was state-sponsored and heavily relied upon Protestantism and colonialism, this ‘Britishness’ was cut off by the sea, ‘[t]he prejudices of the English, Welsh and Scots, and by the self-image of the bulk of the Irish themselves, both Protestants and Catholics’. Because of the perceived republican threat and its association with the Catholic population, Anderson (1998) has argued that unionism has relied upon anti-Catholicism for popular mobilisation. Indeed Moloney (2002) has argued that anti-Catholicism was built into Stormont which was designed, and certainly can be seen to have utilised civic institutions, for unionist purposes. Because of this defensive approach, as Bruce (1992) points out, loyalists are closely associated, share historicity, with the British state and are restricted in the extent to which they can compete with, or challenge, its representatives. By comparison, nationalists and republicans have centuries of historical conflict to draw upon to emphasise their distinctions from the British and to draw legitimacy for challenging occupation. It is partly to address the negative perception that O’Dowd (1998) argues that a ‘New Unionism’ had emerged over the previous 25 years that sought to create a more positive image of unionism within Northern Ireland and in Britain. However, ‘New Unionism’, like other aspects of unionist ideology, is based upon (differing) interpretations of history, which may be factually flawed, that are used to mobilise Protestant support, legitimise actions and exclude Catholic representation. Higgins and Brewer (2003) argue that anti-Catholicism is incorporated within religious scripture. Many Protestants use religion to reinforce, justify and reproduce social division through political ideology and everyday discourse and symbols that have permeated popular culture. As Mitchell (2006) remarks, there is an interplay between ethnicity, religion and community allegiances, with religious symbols, rituals, doctrinal teachings and organisations instrumental in processes of identification with the Protestant community and a resource for explanation and justification for actions. Religion and associated anti-Catholicism, particularly during times of economic and political threats and instability, becomes the means to establish and reinforce group boundaries and to regulate access to jobs, housing and power. As

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Coulter (1999), Halliday (1998) and MacLaughlin (2001) have suggested, unionism can be seen to be a form of ‘inverted homeland nationalism’ (McCrone, 1998: 167), with ‘nation’ and ‘race’ intertwined in anti-Catholic discourse. This focus upon the Union and preserving the status quo does, however, restrict the potential extremity of loyalist ideologies. As Bruce (1992: 244) remarks, ‘one can complain about this or that element of the British government’s policies, but one cannot present a radical alternative’. Today, the central schism within unionism remains between people who strongly identify with ‘Britishness’ and those who are suspicious of British motives and are keen for greater regional autonomy (Coulter, 1999). Unionists have to confront the weakening of influential components like Empire and Protestantism within British culture with which they most closely identified (Anderson, 1998), and the realisation that opinion polls repeatedly show that the majority of the British population want to be rid of Northern Ireland (Hayes and McAllister, 1996; McCrone, 1998).32 Protestant allegiance is further blurred when one considers that less than 25 per cent report being very close to any of the other home nations, approximately 66 per cent considered themselves to be British (SOL, 2005) and some loyalist leaders, particularly in the UDA, have been in favour of independence for the province at various stages during the ‘Troubles’ (Bishop and Mallie, 1988; McDonald and Cusack, 2005). Voting patterns among Protestants also show a lack of ideological support for paramilitaries, with political parties close to the UVF and UDA, the PUP and UDP respectively, performing poorly33 in elections despite their pragmatic approach to constitutional politics (Darby, 2003). There are a number of constitutional political parties who share similar aims to the loyalists but not the means of achieving them. As a UDA member told Bruce (1992: 282): ‘When the Taigs [derogatory term for Catholics] were running up the streets with guns, then I was the boy [meaning the Protestant community wanted his protection] … It comes to voting and the Protestants would rather elect some respectable wanker.’ Both Irish and unionist nationalism can be seen to be rooted in the island’s history and to have developed in an interrelated process during the building of the British nation-state; each has impacted upon the other and been reinterpreted within contemporary discourse. These nationalisms have, as MacLaughlin (2001) has argued, provided real meaning for many ‘ordinary people’, informing attitudes towards identity, community, work, religion and heroic figures from the past, like Pearse and Carson. Religion is therefore immersed within nationalist ideologies and religious references, and the use of symbols can be noticed within loyalist and republican rhetoric and murals. Protestants associated acts of violence by republicans with Catholicism and nationalist symbols, and Catholics made similar associations34 32 McCrone (1998) also points out that in a different way Northern Irish Catholics’ desires are not necessarily reciprocated within the Irish Republic. For example, the Republic has refused to send troops into the province in defence of republican nationalists. 33 In the 2003 Assembly elections, the PUP attracted 1.2 per cent of the vote. The UDP disbanded in 2001, after achieving very poor election results. 34 The most vitriolic and consistent critic of the Catholic clergy has been Ian Paisley. Perhaps most notoriously, in 1972 he claimed that the Roman church was ‘drunk with martyrs’


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between loyalist attacks and unionist marches (Murray, 1995). While loyalists believe that ‘the Roman Catholic Church … dominates Irish politics and social life’ (Davis, 1994: 118), the same institution has been widely considered by republicans to have been their strongest internal opponents, antagonistic to the cause since the nineteenth century (Davis, 1994; Morrow, 1995). Davis (1994) outlines the difficult balance that the Roman Catholic hierarchy must perform in Northern Ireland, wishing to neither defend the union with Britain nor support a united Ireland, while engaging with national governments and the nationalist community. Nor has there been a monolithic response amongst the Catholic Church to the ‘Troubles’. Some priests have endorsed republicanism35 but generally there has been criticism of republican, loyalist and British army acts of violence, particularly from cardinals, bishops and on occasion Pope John Paul II. Yet despite the lack of active support for republicanism and to a lesser extent nationalism, the Church of Ireland has contributed to the maintenance of sectarianism. Functionally, processions, pilgrimages and celebrations at key stages in religiosity and the life cycle, and the mourning process associated with dying, especially violent deaths, solidify community ties and loyalties. In the case of death caused by the ‘other’, church services and collective gatherings can contribute to growing senses of fear and hostility. Priests share dilemmas and connect with the fears, experiences and prejudices of congregations, but rarely address them (Irvine, 1991; MacDonagh, 1983; Morrow, 1995). Additionally, loyalists have argued that the reluctance of priests to excommunicate known ‘terrorists’ and their willingness to perform the last rites on the same people award them implicit Church approval. Impressions about levels of religiosity within Northern Ireland and its role within the ‘Troubles’ can also be supported by a superficial look at attendance rates for church, which is considerably higher than in other parts of the UK.36 But as Coulter (1999) points out, the conflict is not primarily a Holy War as it is widely perceived outside of Northern Ireland. This is supported by research (Fairweather, McDonough and McFadyean, 1984; Toolis, 1995) into the perceptions of Protestants and Catholics who report making and remaining friends with the other denomination, and stress that the conflict is political and economic. Conversely Coulter also suggests that the involvement of religion should not be understated as commentators like MacDonald (1986) and Farrell (1976) have argued. While religion is not the cause of the ‘Troubles’, ‘it has exercised a palpable influence. Religious belief and practice within the six counties have served to promote those secular identities and disputes that form the basis of the “Northern Ireland problem”’ (Coulter, 1999: 58). Both nationalisms, and the history, including religious, on which they are based, have been used to provide legitimacy for discrimination, sectarianism, protest and acts blood’ (quoted in Davis, 1994: 132). 35 For example, during the 1981 Hunger Strike, Davis (1994) points out that there was support for some of the aims of the strikers but not the methods. This instance highlighted one of the central disputes between the clergy and the republican movement, namely the willingness of the latter to accept death for the broader social goal while the former emphasise the sanctity of life. 36 The SOL survey (2002) identified that 67 per cent of Catholics attend religious services at least once per week compared to 39 per cent of Protestants; 58 per cent and 41 per cent respectively were found to pray daily.


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of terrorism. In order to understand how people become aware of these ideologies, experiences and events and become paramilitaries, attention must also be placed upon processes of socialisation. Socialising Paramilitaries Republican and loyalist norms, values and practices have been socially constructed through a range of socialising processes that provide the basis for identification with one group and vehement opposition to the ‘other’, or ‘others’ in the case of republicans. And while there has been no formal recruitment process, ‘in the closeknit nationalist community, potential Volunteers had no problem finding out how to go about joining’ (Taylor, 1998: 71). For both republican and loyalist organisations, recruitment tended to be through word of mouth and personal recommendation.37 The decision to recruit new personnel takes place following meetings and investigation into levels of reliability, commitment and intellectual capacity. If paramilitary groups are to be successful, dependable, dedicated and competent recruits are required. They therefore need to be selective. There is little evidence that republicans are forced to join or remain, or are ‘brainwashed’. The UDA has been accused of coercing young men to join the organisation, in part because of the competition it faced for recruits from the British Army (Human Rights Watch, 1992). Generally though, as one of the 1980 hunger strikers told Taylor (1998: 127), the consequences of (Republicans) joining are fully explained to potential recruits and it is made clear that ‘you have to be doing it because you want to do it’. Community Relations Within working class communities that have been divided into Catholic and Protestant populations, the influence of loyalist and republican groups is immediately apparent. Streets are dominated by symbols of allegiance, suffering, sacrifice and supremacy. British and Irish flags remain prominent, streets are decorated in red, white and blue or green, orange and white, and murals decorate gable end walls depicting slogans and scenes of mythology, martyrdom, heroes and victory while demonising the ‘other’ (Dillon, 2004; Rolston, 1991). For many children and young adults, these communities provide the main sources for their experiences and levels of knowledge about events and other groups with whom they have at best limited contact. ‘Many groups have widely shared memories of past events’ (Leonard, 2006: 1124). These collective memories may relate to direct experiences from the conflict and exposure to communal conflict, or preceding events like the Easter Uprising. And with poor educational achievements and restricted opportunities for careers and geographical mobility, there are generations of families who have lived in the same area. Indeed the strong networks of inter-generations and extended families, consolidated by perceived threats of attack, add to people’s attachment and sense of identity embedded within the locality (Connolly and Healy, 2004). 37 Bruce (1992), Crawford (2003) and Taylor (1998, 2000) provide numerous examples.


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Unsurprisingly, exposure to violence by paramilitaries and armed forces and living in communities under threat has made a major impact upon attitudes and senses of identity. Over time, ways of behaving and thinking about their own communities and the ‘other’ have become habitualised, permeating the local culture. There is particular concern over the extent to which these influences affect the formative development of children’s identity and the challenges this causes to contemporary perceptions of childhood. As Brocklehurst (1999), Cairns (1987), Connolly and Healy (2004), Fields (1973), Fraser (1974) and Leonard (2006) have shown, these processes have had a significant impact upon both Protestant and Catholic working class children. ‘Within such spaces identity becomes closely bound up with in-group and out-group affiliations’ (Leonard, 2006: 1121) that orientate around political division and the interplay between religion and ethnicity. These children possess negative attitudes and prejudices towards the ‘other’ and play games depicting localised violence. Fairweather, McDonough and McFadyean (1984) identified how children aged between five and ten were involved in hurling bottles and stones at military vehicles. Impressions of children’s perceptions are wryly captured by Murray (1995: 221) who reports on a seven-year-old boy who, in response to a British army officer asking why he is throwing stones at the patrol, states: ‘you bastards have been exploiting us for 300 years and we are not putting up with it anymore’. For Lanclos (2003), forms of child’s play in this environment can provide training that can be applied immediately or in the near future within more serious confrontations. This immersion of children within the conflict was not a recent development. Brocklehurst (1999) outlines the development of gangs and youth groups, such as the republican Fianna Eireann and Young Boys of Ireland, and the loyalist Junior UDA, Young Citizen’s Volunteers and Ulster’s Young Militants, and their involvement in demonising the ‘other’ throughout the twentieth century. Crawford (2003) discusses how large numbers of males within school year groups became involved in groups like the Highfield Unit of the Junior UDA. These organisations provided youths with feelings of solidarity and comradeship. Many members graduated to join adult paramilitary organisations.38 At a broader level, Cairns (1987) identified how children in Northern Ireland were more likely to be familiar with violence and bombs than their counterparts in other parts of the UK. In more recent research, Connolly and Healy (2004: 63) discovered that children aged between three and four recognised ‘certain cultural events and symbols associated with their own community and are internalising preferences towards these’. By comparison, seven- and eight-year-old children were aware of paramilitary organisations which were regarded as a fact of life. By the time children, especially boys, were reaching the ages of ten and eleven, a number had already developed a strong identification with particular paramilitary groups. Many of these children accepted sectarian segregation and social divisions as inevitable. And while appreciating that not all members of the other community were ‘bad’, they had little desire to integrate with them. As the children develop, they are exposed to new information and experiences, and gain greater awareness of historical events and political issues and ideologies. But these tend to be interpreted ‘in a way that 38 Bishop and Mallie (1988), Crawford (2003), Dillon (2004) and McDonald and Cusack (2005) discuss these issues in detail.

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tends to confirm and explain their existing experiences’ (Connolly and Healy, 2004: 64). By comparison, children from middle class backgrounds had much wider frames of reference, with more diverse social relations and experience of different spatialities, and less exposure to violent events associated with the ‘Troubles’. These factors, Connolly and Healy argue, frequently prevent strong identification with local communities which were discovered to be held by their working class peers. However, while the ties may not be as strong, the children are still aware of two distinct populations, and many acknowledge that the symbols and values which they hold locates them within one ethnic religious category. Reinforcing Divisions Across Northern Ireland, demarcations exist within towns and cities, as mentioned above, that create physical separation between communities. Spatial divisions of the populations can also be found within particular regions and sub regions, reducing opportunities for everyday social contact. For instance, Catholics are concentrated in parts of Belfast and western parts of the province. Protestants tend to be located within different parts of Belfast and the eastern counties of Antrim, Down and Armagh (Coulter, 1999). In 2004 there were 26 barriers, ‘peace walls’, that physically divide the two populations, with most of the walls erected after the cessation of violence (McDonald and Cusack, 2005). These patterns of demarcation between the two populations are reflected within personal relationships, with children reported to be forbidden from playing with peers from the other population and the overwhelming majority of marriages endogamous. Division can also be noticed within social activities. For example, sporting activities could offer opportunities for reconciliation but instead the two populations engage in different sports. Nationalists are associated with Gaelic games while Protestants participate in sports that are connected to unionist and British traditions, namely cricket, rugby and hockey. Even in sports like football, where both populations participate, teams are divided according to their community loyalties and intense rivalry has often spilt over into violence between the opposing teams and supporters (Coulter, 1999). It should be reiterated that the respective communities are not homogeneous. There is considerable variation in beliefs and attitudes, and support for the paramilitaries was not universal. However, there was a general acceptance that paramilitaries lived in their midst. As Gerry Adams points out, paramilitaries lived within communities and their identities were personalised and associated with social relationships and events. Yet Toolis (1995) points out that this appreciation did not translate into widespread uncritical endorsement. Paramilitary groups’ aggressive operations, particularly when civilians were killed, caused tremendous resentment within both populations. This placed a tremendous onus on paramilitaries living within communities which they claimed to defend to avoid overly antagonising large sectors of those populations.


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Agential Influences This section focuses upon how people were/are notified about their sectarian beliefs, commencing with family influences. A number of studies have highlighted how Irish history, senses of ‘Irishness’ and ‘Britishness’ and cultural values are transmitted across generations by both sexes and help to perpetuate and reinforce hostility.39 Taylor and Quayle (1994: 42) remark that ‘the family connections that emerge when discussing terrorist organisations are considerable’. Extensive family ties help legitimise terrorism, connecting with past events carried out within families, often across generations. ‘The present therefore has continuity with the past, and the young person growing in this environment absorbs the ethos of terrorism as part of his early socialisation’ (ibid). And Cusack and McDonald (1997) argue, with respect to loyalists, that this inter-generational activism was a factor in the shift amongst some older members towards a peaceful resolution. Parents witnessed their children’s similar engagement in violence and exposure to risks that they themselves had encountered 20 years or so previously, with seemingly little or no sign of resolution. Many of the prominent paramilitaries of the ‘Troubles’, particularly the republicans,40 had parents and grandparents who had been involved in previous IRA campaigns and the Anglo-Irish war. The convicted IRA member Gerry McGeough provides an illuminating insight into the impact of such backgrounds, when describing his childhood where republican resistance ‘was something which I certainly was very conscious of from a very early age and something which instilled considerable pride in me. The fact was that I was of this Gaelic Irish stock which had for generation after generation resisted foreign rule in our country’ (quoted in Taylor, 1998: 37). This immersion in nationalist and republican norms and values at an early age is most prominent in the childhood of Gerry Adams. His paternal grandfather was a republican paramilitary, his father was shot and imprisoned as a consequence of involvement in an IRA ambush, and two uncles were interned. Adams’ mother also came from a staunchly republican family and had belonged to the female wing of the IRA. Unsurprisingly, Adams was introduced to republican views at an early age. A Young Life and Times Survey (2004) showed that the family was the most important source of information about the other religious community. However, many paramilitaries have originated from families that were apolitical, unsupportive of republicanism or loyalism and who were subsequently shocked and even horrified when they found out about their relatives’ involvement.41 The impact of the family should not therefore be overstated nor examined in isolation. As a respondent stated 39 Discussed, for example, in Brocklehurst (1999), Crawford (2003), Fairweather, McDonough and McFadyean (1984) and MacDonald (1991). 40 This is not to say that inter-generational involvement is not also noticeable within loyalists. Bruce (1992), Crawford (2003) and Taylor (2000) have all identified different generations of loyalists within families, some of which can be traced to the pre-First World War UVF and involvement in the emotive battle of the Somme. For example, one of the central figures in loyalist history, Gusty Spence, is considered to have ‘taken in loyalist history with his mother’s milk’ (Taylor, 2000: 34). 41 For further details, see Crawford (2003), Dillon (2004), MacDonald (1991) and McDonald and Cusack (2005).

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to Fairweather, McDonough and McFadyean (1984: 306): ‘They get it [hating Catholics] from other kids, and from their father too of course – he hates Catholics.’ And in many instances, as McDonald and Cusack (2005) report when discussing Peter Shirlow’s unpublished research, children hold more sectarian views than the older generations, in part because, unlike their parents and grandparents, they have rarely interacted with the ‘other’. The influence of peer groups is also noticeable at various stages of radicalisation, with members becoming involved, often at a junior level, through friends and school relationships (Crawford, 2003). The death of peers has also had an impact upon people’s levels of radicalism for both loyalists and republicans. For instance, ‘Tommy’, a loyalist interviewed by Crawford (2003), refers to the republican killing of a close friend as a key moment in his process of engagement within loyalism. Equally, Martin McGuiness, deputy leader of Sinn Féin, has described the impact that the killing of an IRA peer had upon him. In these environments, ‘peer pressure can be a terrible influence on a young lad who has nothing to look forward to in life’ (Bogside priest, quoted in Toolis, 1995: 203). After becoming a paramilitary, both republican and loyalist members tended to socialise with like-minded people who in many instances they had grown up with. Groups became ‘your family. The organisation defined who you were, it gave you an identity, a purpose.’42 Members frequently met in pubs and clubs, sharing experiences and strengthening loyalties.43 Indeed many local loyalist HQs have been based in pubs and clubs. For security purposes, paramilitaries ‘are not able to move about freely [which] restricts you in your social life. It means you are confined to the movement’s areas when you want to socialise … you are always meeting one type of people, you are not broadened’ (female republican talking to MacDonald, 1991: 141). And as Bruce (1993: 255) notes with respect to the UDA and UVF membership, ‘socialising with like-minded people in pubs and clubs, writing and singing the “regimental” songs, fund-raising for prisoners; these have all been sources of pleasure for people in organisations and provide a fairly constant appeal irrespective of what else is going on’. Loyalties and commitment were often further strengthened when the paramilitaries were sent to prisons where they were able to freely associate with their peers and discuss political issues and ideologies (Adams, 1996; Dillon, 2004; Taylor, 1998). Education and broader schooling experiences have also been instrumental in the formation of sectarian identities within Northern Ireland. Indeed Whyte (1986) argued that the nature of the education system was most responsible for defining and reproducing ethno-religious demarcations. Learning opportunities in higher and further education have risen dramatically over the last 30 years. But schooling tends to replicate the demarcations to be found within wider society. Catholic schools are ‘imbued with a Catholic religious atmosphere and imbibe an Irish nationalist version of history. Protestant children go to state schools which have an ecumenically Protestant religious ethos and learn a version of Irish history which emphasizes civil and religious perceptions of Britishness’ (Irvine, 1991: 193). Since the 1820s, 42 ‘Ken’, interviewed by Crawford (2003: 70). 43 Discussed in Bishop and Mallie (1988), Coogan (1995) and McDonald and Cusack (2005).


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Catholic and Protestant children have been segregated in schooling. Post partition, separate schools were established, with different sports, music and literature. Formal and hidden curricula connected with the respective populations (Brocklehurst, 1999; Coulter, 1999; Gallagher, Smith and Montgomery, 2003). In 2001–02, 96 per cent of primary educated Protestant children attended a Protestant school and 94 per cent of their Catholic peers attended Catholic schools (reported in Gallagher, Smith and Montgomery, 2003). The figures were slightly less for secondary school attendance. There is a debate about the impact of the curriculum within schools, but Gallagher (1995) outlines that, irrespective of this, the practice of segregation emphasises group differences and reinforces ignorance and suspicion. To try to address some of these problems, integrated schools have been introduced within Northern Ireland, acknowledging that ‘unless the children meet and learn about each other’s traditions at school, the odds are against a peaceful and secure future in this country’ (Integrated Education Fund, 2003: 2). To date their impact has been limited, with only 3 per cent of primary school children attending these institutions. Finally, the media has been influential within the ‘Troubles’, providing images and information. Historical sources have also been important, with many paramilitaries, particularly republican, delving into history books to help understand and legitimise their struggles. Opinion varies about the extent to which the media has been manipulated by the British government or used to propagate paramilitary propaganda. It is noticeable that while Northern Ireland is exposed to international types of media, there are also newspapers that predominantly target one of the populations. Newspapers like the Irish News and the News Letter provide stories and interpretations that reflect nationalist and unionist interests and positions respectively and contribute to the reproduction of sectarianism (Bairner, 1996). Paramilitary organisations have also had their own media to communicate with their supporters and to generate greater community support. In the management of public relations, Crawford (2003) suggests that republicans had a much more sophisticated approach that connected into broad international sympathies. By comparison, loyalists did not engage effectively with mainstream media. Their actions and press conferences contributed towards the reinforcement of popular portrayals of their paramilitaries as uneducated hard men who could easily be categorised as the ‘bad guys’. During the height of the conflict, television news reporting was found to emphasise violent images and language, with inadequate attention placed upon contextualising items (Cairns, 1987). This has not gone unnoticed by the readership. Ewart and Schubotz et al. (2004) found that many young people considered the media to be biased, placing too much attention on the differences between the two populations with a negative influence on community relations. Yet Cairns (1987) and Connolly and Maginn (1999) have also shown how many children used the media as their main source of information about the ‘Troubles’. The contribution of the media to changing values and beliefs was implicitly acknowledged when the Northern Ireland Office arranged for three television adverts to be screened that portrayed paramilitaries as normal, family men living in communities (Edge, 1998). This was against a backdrop of the movement towards peace and the need to stop demonising people who would have to be represented in any negotiated settlement. However, as Connolly and Maginn (1999: 72) note (in this instance with respect

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to Protestants but the central point also applies to Catholics), ‘specific feelings of threat and territoriality’ that the children use to express their situation ‘appears to mediate their reading of the news and the actions of Gerry Adams and the IRA … these broader news events then, in turn, provide the lens through which local events and experiences are understood’. Legitimising Ideologies and the Basis for Motivation If paramilitary ideologies and symbols were to be accepted and internalised, then they had to be legitimised and opposing ideologies and methods de-legitimised. For instance, the outcome of ‘Bloody Sunday’ undermined the possibility that peaceful political struggle could achieve change (republican Donncha MacNiallais, in Kerr, 1996). As the previous sections established, many events, experiences and policies, both paramilitary and governmental, within Northern Ireland could be used to justify support for the paramilitaries. Conversely, the same incident, for example, the 1981 Hunger Strike, could be used to strengthen both republican support through individuals’ sacrifices and interrelated British policy, and loyalist commitment, that is substantiated by the perceived threat of enhanced republicanism. Significant sectors of both populations experience considerable poverty and, as with other nation-states, this has a clear bearing on their ideological allegiance and levels of motivation. In other parts of the UK, and also Northern Ireland, many poorly educated young people from inner cities, with limited career opportunities, turn to crime. People growing up in Northern Ireland did, however, have another career opportunity, to become a paramilitary. It is important not to overstate the importance of poverty,44 not least because, as Connolly and Healy (2004) have highlighted, some of the most deprived wards in Belfast have experienced relatively little violence. And while republican and loyalist paramilitary groups are widely recognised as predominantly working class organisations, especially the latter, members of the middle classes, mainly within republicanism, have supported or joined them.45 Supporting or becoming a paramilitary is not therefore simply about a lack of economic resources. Other factors are also involved that have contributed

44 Conversely, British engagement in Northern Ireland has contributed to a growing Protestant and Catholic middle class, many of whom have a vested interest in that relationship continuing (Coulter, 1999). 45 Bruce (1992) has argued that the IRA has been able to recruit across a broader range of the socio-economic spectrum than loyalist groups, who have to compete with state organisations with arguably similar aims that provide greater remuneration, security and respectability. Crawford (2003) has suggested that the loyalist concentration of working class members was partly due to a suspicion of people who lived outside their communities. Consequently, educated middle class members who could have provided professional leadership or contributed to a more sophisticated public relations campaign were excluded. And during the 1970s, the quality of leadership was further weakened when leaders needed to become full-time, often resulting in people obtaining positions of responsibility because more able members were in paid employment and unable to provide full-time commitment to the group.


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to radicalisation. For example, the Catholic population has experienced army patrols and partisan military operations, curfews and internment, ‘raiding and wrecking homes and precious possessions, dragging children from their beds, abusing women, beating men and boys’ (Fairweather, McDonough and McFadyean, 1984: 15). Stories46 like Fairweather, McDonough and McFadyean’s (1984: 63) account of a five-year-old boy who made abusive hand gestures and shouted ‘Bastards’ at British soldiers are common. The boy held such views because the soldiers ‘come in the night and took my Patrick [uncle] away’ (ibid). Experiences like these contributed to perceptions of communities under siege, provided the basis for solidarity as a defensive mechanism and de-legitimised British policy and presence. Many older relatives and friends have been motivated to join republican groups by similar experiences. For instance, Maureen Gibson, a convicted republican, explained how the arrest of her brother and subsequent brutal treatment and constant harassment led to her becoming bitter, angry and vehemently opposed to British soldiers, and ultimately led to her joining the paramilitaries (Fairweather, McDonough and McFadyean, 1984: 216). Tony Doris ‘joined the IRA because of the constant harassment that the people in the town got’ (Toolis, 1995: 39). Martin McGuiness decided to become a republican in reaction to ‘the Duke Street beatings [when the RUC attacked a peaceful demonstration in 1968], the attack on Sammy Devenney [who died after being badly beaten by the RUC in 1969] and the killings of Casey and Beattie [two youths killed by the British army in 1971]’ (quoted in Toolis, 1995: 304). RUC excessive action against rioters in 1966 was instrumental in the political awakening of Sinn Féin President Gerry Adams and led him to conclude that ‘the north of Ireland was a state based upon the violent suppression of political opposition’ (Adams, 1996: 51). The killing of friends and family members by the British army or loyalist paramilitaries has also been instrumental in many people becoming republicans (MacDonald, 1991; Toolis, 1995). These events and experiences crosscut the class barrier. Although the middle classes were less likely to encounter such extensive army presence and RUC tactics, they have been affected and have known people who have been harassed, injured, arrested and in some instances killed. And so while economic factors are influential within the mobilisation of support and help legitimise paramilitary actions and rhetoric, they are one aspect to be considered alongside social, cultural, political and military experiences, discussed earlier. Similarly, people also became loyalist paramilitaries for a range of reasons. Some wanted to defend the Union against attack and either had been rejected by the RUC or UDR or consciously chose to join a loyalist organisation because they wanted more flexibility. Others were motivated by a belief that republican terrorism was achieving concessions from the British government (Crawford, 2003) or that the government was to withdraw from Northern Ireland, or felt, as did the convicted loyalist Martin Snodden, that ‘in the area where I lived, there wasn’t any evidence of the security forces defending my community’ (quoted in Taylor, 2000: 82). Conversely, ‘Ken’ discusses the impact of the republican killing of three Scottish ‘soldiers who were protecting my community’.47 For Billy Giles, the decision to become a paramilitary 46 Examples can also be found in MacDonald (1991), Taylor (1998) and Toolis (1995). 47 ‘Ken’, interviewed by Crawford (2003: 69).

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was a consequence of the murder of a female Sunday school teacher by the INLA (ibid). He decided, ‘Now I wanted to see people killed over it. I wanted the IRA stopped, and I thought that was the only way’ (quoted in Taylor, 2000: 4). The desire for revenge and the aim of protection are noticeable among the motivating factors for many people becoming loyalists (McDonald and Cusack, 2005). Atrocities like ‘Bloody Friday’ led to an upsurge in loyalist recruitment (discussed in more detail above). People ‘wanted to let the IRA know that if they gave us victims, then we in turn would give them victims … As I saw it, if they suffered as we suffered, they’d stop, because normal human beings can’t tolerate that.’48 People were inspired to become paramilitaries through the acts of bravado associated with individuals like Michael Stone, who inspired Johnny Adair, who in turn became influential to the next generation (Cusack and McDonald, 1997). The appeal of groups fluctuated according to events, frequently rising when they were considered to be successful in ‘fighting back’. Patterns of recruitment to the UDA/UFF and UVF in particular were often linked to their current levels of activism and perceptions of leaders’ integrity and (non) involvement in criminal activities. Within these social conditions, people became loyalist or republican paramilitaries motivated by altruistic factors like defending the community or the Union or fighting injustice, inequality and independence. Unsurprisingly, levels of motivation and associated recruitment fluctuated according to perceptions of victory and the local environment, paramilitary actions and British policies and actions. Many paramilitaries were also motivated by more individualistic factors, certainly at the beginning of their careers. For instance, paramilitaries have discussed the appeal of terrorism and in particular feelings of excitement and importance and senses of power and belonging that involvement with the paramilitaries brought. And as Combatant A informed Crawford (2003: 193), ‘the other reason I joined up was out of sheer boredom, there was nothing else to do. A lot of my friends joined for that reason as well, simply because it gave them something to do.’ Some loyalists were also attracted by financial rewards attained through criminal activities undertaken under the cover of paramilitary groups.49 However, the restrictive lifestyle, insecurities, unpredictability and fear of arrest or attack meant that involvement, for many paramilitaries, was an unpleasant experience with long-term psychological consequences. Conclusion: The Prospects for Peace Today, Northern Ireland is firmly part of the international community, immersed within the European Union and processes of globalisation. Kerr (1996) comments on how the globalisation of culture has impacted on the province, with music, literature and sporting allegiances that originated externally now being shared across the communities. Sectarian industries like shipbuilding are in severe decline. By comparison, multinational organisations locating to the region are providing 48 John White, in conversation with Crawford (2003: 91). 49 Further information can be found in Bishop and Mallie (1988), Bruce (1992), Dillon (2004) and Toolis (1995).


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employment opportunities without religious or ethnic allegiances. The impact of globalisation is not new to Northern Ireland. For example, as part of the British Empire, the region was exposed to earlier economic and political processes. But contemporary globalisation has contributed to more integration taking place within employment. The peace process continues to progress, albeit painfully slowly, and following the IRA’s decommissioning of its weapons there is increasing optimism about the future. However, there are also grounds for considerable caution. Underlying the peace process is an implicit challenge to the ideologies of the past. Chances of peace becoming permanent depend upon the extent to which these constructed loyalties and identities can draw closer together and shift towards a more inclusive interpretation of nationalism. If peace is to become embedded, then it has to overcome the physical separation that has been recently reinforced by the increase of ‘peace walls’. Peaceful overtures have to also overcome generations of socialisation processes that fuse historical events, images and symbols with recent cultural, political, social and economic experiences and widespread destruction, injuries and killings committed by the ‘other’. These socialising processes continue to generate hostility and ignorance. Ironically, despite centuries of perceived difference that is connected to, but not caused by, religion, socialising processes within the two populations are very similar. Children are learning sectarian values through socialising processes that incorporate a mixture of family and friends. These values are strengthened through experiences and exposure to contemporary events that legitimised paramilitary ideologies and rationale for action, and de-legitimised rival ideologies and institutions. Conversely, non-exposure to the ‘other’ as a consequence of segregation within education, housing and leisure activities also contributes to the acceptance of sectarianism, reinforces divisions and restricts the opportunities for meaningful interaction and awareness raising. In other words, the onset of a ceasefire does not automatically translate into the end of sectarianism. Many of the prevalent values during the ‘Troubles’ remain embedded within socialisation. As McDonald and Cusack (2005: 347) note, the essential fault with the Good Friday Peace Agreement was that it ‘failed to address the problem of on-going sectarian attitudes, especially among the young working class and underclass’. And many former paramilitaries struggle to adjust to their changed status, without the certainties of the conflict. This is contributing to a lack of assimilation within new forms of emerging civil society. Consequently, if the conditions that contributed to the ‘Troubles’ and the legitimisation of paramilitary ideologies are perceived to remain, at least in part, the British government failed to address current loyalist concerns about exclusion, or the leadership of the main paramilitary groups like the IRA, UDA and UVF were seriously undermined, then it is conceivable for a new generation of paramilitaries to emerge. In other words, Northern Irish society continues to provide potential legitimacy for sectarianism and ultimately terrorism.


Chapter 5

‘Red’ Urban Terrorism: Experiences in Italy, Germany and Japan Introduction During the 1970s and 1980s, urban terrorism associated with the ‘New Left’ was prominent across leading nation-states including America, Italy, Germany and Japan. These countries were social democracies that allowed dissent and provided opportunities for political and civil participation. It was therefore a huge shock when citizens became sufficiently disillusioned with the societies to use terrorism to try to instigate fundamental change. Terrorism could no longer be considered to be concentrated amongst groups who were denied other political opportunities and lived within repressive regimes reliant upon wide-scale imprisonment and curtailment of individual rights. The Western groups espoused a range of Marxist–Leninist–Maoist slogans and shared similar vague ideologies, although even within the countries discourse was not identical. Often, however, the groups and members had different experiences within different contexts. In this chapter, historical events, political processes, socio-economic conditions and social experiences within Italy and Germany are explored to help understand why people join terror groups within, and against, Western democracies.1 Greater attention will be placed upon the experiences within Italy where considerably more terror activities were undertaken2 and several thousand Italians were believed to belong to terror organisations. A broad range of material is included that explores the ideological roots of the groups, motivational factors, situational information and militants’ life histories. Central congruous processes are then applied to Japan to try to identify common social processes and factors. ‘Red’ terror is then examined further within the following chapter, and the shift of terrorism within the United States from left- to right-wing ideologies. Italian Terrorism Post war left-wing terrorism in Italy did not form on one particular date but emerged from widespread opposition among students and workers movements that had used extra-parliamentary channels during the late 1960s and early 1970s (Pisano, 1987). Nor was its impact universally felt. Instead there was a noticeable concentration of 1 All the countries have also encountered right-wing terror groups. The Italian fascist groups have been more threatening (see below). 2 Ferracuti (1998: 59) details that between 1969 and 1986 there were 14,569 attacks by left- and right-wing terror groups which resulted in 415 deaths and 1,181 injuries.

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activities around the more affluent Rome and the northern industrial regions, whilst the poorer southern regions were relatively unaffected. To understand the emergence of terrorism within these areas, it is important to appreciate the historical roots of militancy. Historical Roots of Italian Terrorism Political terrorism, as opposed to that associated with the mafia, can be traced back approximately 100 years with the emergence of anarchist groups. And while there are many differences between the generations of militants, as Drake (1984) points out, there were historical precedents for the attacks of the 1970s and 1980s. The earlier groups developed out of widespread political protests and riots involving both workers and peasants. Between 1870 and 1921, anarchists undertook a number of actions aimed at regicide, using bombs, guns and knives. They were responsible for the deaths of leading figures of other nationalities outside Italy (Weinberg and Eubank, 1987). At the beginning of the twentieth century, the anarchists expanded their range of targets and most notoriously in 1921 killed over 20 people in Milan. The advent of the fascist dictatorship (1922–43) resulted in harsher repressive measures. Although acts of terrorism continued, including Mussolini being targeted for assassination on at least four occasions, serious bombing campaigns in 1928 and 1932 and the killing of Italian consular officials abroad, overall attacks diminished. In a pattern that was to be repeated during the 1970s and 1980s, the fascists were also involved in terrorism prior to gaining power and regularly clashed with socialist and communist opponents. Their squads were involved in a range of actions designed to kill or intimidate populations and opponents, and indeed terror tactics continued to be used after Mussolini’s assumption of power. Following Italy’s defeat in the Second World War and subsequent occupation by Germany, the nature of violence changed. An armed resistance movement emerged to fight the Nazis and remnants of the fascist regime. Terror tactics were employed by the partisan resistance as part of this struggle and in turn resulted in fascist reprisals. Weinberg and Eubank (1987: 24) point out that at the end of the war, there was ‘a residue of political terrorism, inspired by anarchist, Fascist and Communist doctrines’ and many scores were settled. Consequently, the immediate aftermath of the war saw vigilante groups composed of former partisans imposing ‘popular justice’ on former fascists, with estimates ranging from 13,000 to 30,000 people being summarily executed (Pisano, 1987). Post War Context With experiences of universal suffrage restricted to two free general elections, prior to 1922, the working classes had limited feelings of citizenship with restricted involvement both in local and national political parties (Lumley, 1990). Post 1945, the working classes became more integrated within the Italian Republic (established in 1946) through political parties and trade unions. However, the Constitution was considered to be a compromise between opposing Marxist and Catholic


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perspectives. The abolition of the monarchy was achieved by referendum but without a large majority, and an amnesty, granted to an estimated 40,000 fascists, caused consternation (Jamieson, 1989). The new Constitution did not eradicate the deeprooted political extremities. During the 1950s, violent clashes between fascists and socialists and communists continued. However, these attacks were usually overtly undertaken and did not constitute terrorism. By 1959, there was popular dissatisfaction over the functioning of the Italian state and the government was considered to be ‘untrustworthy, unresponsive and inefficient’ (Weinberg, 1986: 149). With leading politicians tending to be elderly men who belonged to the pre-fascist political elite, these perceptions remained despite improving economic circumstances and working conditions. The system of patronage meant that the working classes and new middle classes were underrepresented (Tarrow, 1989). Coalition governments proved unstable, cumbersome and indecisive, unable or unwilling to implement major reforms. Political parties involved were increasingly tainted by their participation. Throughout the 1960s, political parties of the left and to some extent trade unions who had limited presence within many factories were ‘unable to articulate and represent discontent within civil society’ (Lumley, 1990: 29). Many of the discontented subsequently chose to express their feelings outside organised politics through disruption. Strikes, demonstrations against local, national and, in some instances, international issues, disorder and, for many, violence became commonplace. Integrated within these industrial and political changes, modernisation and secularisation were permeating Italian society. In a manner noted across Western Europe, traditional relationships were undermined. Family ties weakened, parental influence over children diminished, the authority of Catholicism was questioned, religious attendance dropped and new allegiances, particularly with peer groups or associations, became more prominent (Pisano, 1987; Weinberg, 1986). These new relationships were instrumental in changing social identities. People began to demand more from civic modernisation and access to services. Civic society became more dynamic and assertive and provided networks for new political opportunities (Tarrow, 1989). Throughout the 1960s, educational opportunities rose tremendously, but this expansion was also the source of protest. Facilities for teaching, learning and accommodation did not increase at the same rate as student numbers. And teaching methods and systems of examination were not updated to accommodate the changing society and expectations of younger generations. Consequently, student disillusionment rose throughout the decade. Like in other parts of the West, Italian universities became bases for opposition to government policies and rebellion against the status quo. Student unrest turned into revolt during 1968–69. Numerous battles between police and students ensued. The violent methods and use of imprisonment applied to quell the disturbances resulted in greater unity amongst the students and wider support. Suddenly, images were widely available across the media that seemed to strengthen the students’ critique of the state, with the police seen to be representative of the government. Police violence helped to legitimise the adaptation of similar methods by the students and contributed to the radicalisation of protests. Images of violence and armed struggle began to appear in the movement’s songs,

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slogans and graffiti. In turn, the students’ actions became the source of a moral panic, with large sections of the population shocked and disgusted (Lumley, 1990). In the ‘Hot Autumn’ of 1969, problems facing the Italian government mounted when industrial workers became engaged in a number of high profile disputes. In these struggles authority and factory systems of control were challenged, transcending into attacks upon broader social injustices. White-collar workers were also mobilised by their eroding privileges and status, participating in protests alongside manual workers (Lumley, 1990). By the end of the 1960s, it had become apparent that the Italian state was facing a greater challenge than other Western European nations who were also encountering revolts. Following the failure of centre–left-sponsored reforms, many supporters of more radical left-wing ideologies became increasingly disillusioned about the prospects of fundamental change being delivered within the existing system. These concerns were exacerbated by fears that fascism could return to power. Across factories and universities, there was a growing sense that transformation could only be achieved by breaking away from existing left-wing groups who were increasingly viewed as part of the problem. A new style of militancy was proposed although there was considerable disagreement over how this was to be achieved. And while there were attempts to unite student and worker groups, this was only partly successful. Different backgrounds and experiences were coupled with pragmatic differences in the consequences of protests and demonstrations. For example, students often considered such occasions to be ‘an expression of emancipation and exuberance’, but ‘for the worker a protest involved a day’s less pay for a hungry family, the possibility of being arrested or injured and therefore of being unable to work, and the certainty of being marked down as a trouble maker by an employer’ (Jamieson, 1989: 57). Unity was formally achieved with the formation of political groups like Lotta Continua, Potere Operaio, Il Manifesto and Avanguardia Operaia, which emerged out of the student movement. These groups concentrated on representing the working class, but their leadership and most of the support was dominated by former students (Lumley, 1990). Thousands of people had to confront what was referred to as the ‘ebb-tide’ frustrations that followed the exhilarating experiences of 1968– 69. Some people chose to re/join institutional political parties, others chose forms of escapism through communes or drugs. Many people, however, still possessed complete conviction in left-wing politics, but had become disillusioned with the means of achieving them. They therefore concluded that alternative methods must be employed which included acts of terrorism (Silj, 1979; Tarrow, 1989). ‘Red’ Terrorism In 1970, further radicalisation could be noticed with the emergence of the most prominent Marxist group, the Brigate Rosse (or Red Brigades). The members of the Red Brigades and similar groups like the Nuclei of Armed Proletarians (NAP, formed in 1974) and Prima Linea (or Front Line that formed in 1976) became disillusioned with reformist approaches adopted by other left-wing groups, including the Communist Party, which was firmly entrenched within electoral


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politics. Consequently, they formed or joined militant groups like the Red Brigades that aimed ‘to educate, organize and encourage the working classes to throw off the oppressive rule of capitalism by an armed proletarian revolution’ (Jamieson, 1989: 73). Between 1970 and the mid 1980s, left-wing groups were responsible for thousands of incidents of terrorism. In contrast to episodes of ‘red’ terrorism within America, Germany and Japan, in Italy the ‘years of lead’ remained significant until the 1980s. In 1977, the student movement was revitalised as the economy deteriorated, inflation was extremely high and unemployment rising. The Communist Party, whose support could have grown in these conditions, had become further ensconced within parliamentary government and were thus included within the radicals’ condemnation of ‘consensual politics’. Between the emergence of this student movement and its predecessor in 1968 there had been considerable changes. Students were now estimated to number one million compared with 400,000, the expansion of opportunities had resulted in significant representation from the working class and there were high rates of unemployment for graduates. However, as Silj (1979) points out, the second student movement cannot be reduced to economic analysis. The movement campaigned about issues that cut across society and were much more about fundamental change than improving employment prospects. Its re-emergence as a political force was symptomatic of wider political and cultural crises. It also provided an impetus to the radical groups, with universities providing sources of recruitment for students willing to undertake or support violent actions to help achieve their ideals. The need to avoid economic determinism is further highlighted when the socio-economic backgrounds of those involved are examined. Like members from other nation-states, Italian militants originated from a cross-section of society. Unsurprisingly, in light of the involvement of students, intelligentsia, industrial and clerical workers and former prisoners, Pisano (1987) details how recruitment happened across factories, service industries, academic environments and prisons. Members of the Red Brigades tended to be reasonably well educated, aged between early twenties and mid thirties, and were predominantly from middle class and lower middle class backgrounds. The majority of members were male, although there was a significant minority of females who were represented within the leadership cadre. Weinberg and Eubank’s (1987, 1993) comparative analysis of both ‘black’ (rightwing) and ‘red’ militants in the first generation at the beginning of the 1970s and the post 1976 recruits showed that fascist and left-wing members who committed acts of violence tended to be drawn from different localities and social strata. The former had higher representations among men below 20 and above 40, people from lower middle class backgrounds associated with small businesses, military and police officers, industrialists, managers, free professionals like doctors, lawyers, journalists and some members of aristocratic origins. By comparison, ‘red’ groups also had activists who were doctors, lawyers and journalists, but also included high proportions of groups from manual workers, white-collar clerks, criminals, prostitutes and considerably more females (23 per cent) than the overwhelmingly male fascist groups. In other words, people whom the ‘red’ groups were claiming to represent were also representatives of the groups. When Weinberg and Eubank (ibid) compared the backgrounds of early and later ‘red’ militants, they discovered that

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the representation of journalists, doctors, lawyers and, to a lesser extent, students diminished between the early 1970s and post 1976. The later generation was on average younger than their predecessors. The first generation was over-represented with individuals belonging both to upper status positions like managers and industrialists and lower middle class groups like shopkeepers, salesmen, police, military officers and artisans. By comparison, the second generation included higher proportions of teachers, manual workers and white-collar clerks. Student representatives remained constantly high across the two phases. The proportion of females involved did not increase significantly between the two generations, although there was a marked growth in the numbers of women engaged in the struggle within leadership roles. Despite the setbacks of the early 1980s, ‘red’ terror groups continued to attack state institutions and representatives, most notably an adviser of the Labour Minister in 2002. However, their potential has been severely restricted by the arrest and imprisonment of thousands of members during the 1980s and damaging splits within groups. Divisions and in-fighting over ideology, tactics,3 and leadership further weakened the potential for a united movement, confusing loyalties within the already complicated myriad of groups and factions that existed during the 1970s.4 Support was further weakened by the collapse of the Warsaw Pact and the Soviet Union, although these events strengthened the ‘red’ militant focus upon American universal imperialism. And over time, operating underground distanced groups from the wider population that they claimed to represent and negatively impacted upon support. In addition, societal reforms have been implemented. Many of the concerns about Italian democracy and the dominance of the Christian Democrat Party have been erased. High profile corruption cases that resulted in many leading politicians resigning and being imprisoned led to the Christian Democrats being disbanded in 1994. The demise of the party that had been dominant for the previous 50 years and the prosecution of significant leaders increased people’s confidence in the system of government and revitalised participatory democracy. Consequently, for a variety of reasons, many people involved during the 1970s renounced their previous views and now promote pacification. And while small pockets of armed resistance remain, Italian democracy and government are secure and the real threat to the state has ended. Ideologies and Motivations of ‘Red’ Italian Terrorism The ideological roots of left-wing terrorism within Italy can be traced to the legacies of the Italian anarchist movement and the partisan struggle during the Second World War. Important influences also include Marxism and adaptations by Lenin and Mao, and prominent international events of the 1950s and 1960s like Castro gaining power 3 Division over strategy became particularly noticeable following the killing of Aldo Moro in 1978, which many ‘red’ terror members opposed and left the Red Brigades as a consequence. Front Line, the other major terror group at the time, refused to support the kidnapping, which they viewed as a major tactical mistake (Weinberg and Eubank, 1987). 4 Silj (1979) estimated that there were 22 groups organised on a permanent basis in 1979, and over 100 groups had formed during the 1970s.


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in Cuba, the civil rights movement in the United States, the American invasion of Vietnam and international perceptions of the crisis of imperialism. And the groups built upon post war ideologies and experiences of the socialist and communist parties, who by this stage were reviled by the far left and groups like Lotta Continua, Potere Operaio, Il Manifesto and Avanguardia Operaia. Crucially, terror groups like the Red Brigades and Front Line were convinced that the implementation of communist ideology and the end of capitalism could only be achieved through violence which would mobilise the masses and lead to revolution. Their violence was carried out in the name of class struggle but differed from the disturbances, street fighting and rioting that other groups had undertaken. This was violence in order to terrorise and was initially justified on the grounds that peaceful confrontation against the armed forces and fascists had failed and the left wing needed to be able to defend against attack. As the Red Brigades, in particular, evolved through different phases of activities, the justification of a violent vanguard became more aggressive to explain the increase in attacks and loss of life. Greater emphasis was placed upon the need for change through violence and ultimately for war against the nation-state. Clearly militants were driven by perceptions that Italy required fundamental change. But people were motivated to join, and remained with, terror groups for other, less altruistic, reasons. For instance, MacDonald (1991) reports on her conversation with Susanna Ronconi, a convicted Red Brigades and Prima Linea member, who acknowledged the significance of the feeling that she was going to be contributing to the radical transformation of Italian society. However, she also referred to the excitement that involvement within the group and its activities brought. Respondents interviewed by della Porta (1992b: 281) also expressed feelings of happiness and excitement and glorified their involvement, describing their participation as ‘the expression of a dynamic and interesting life’. Other interviewees discussed the solidarity, love, goodwill and respect experienced within the groups (discussed in more detail in the socialising section below). Finally, militants also gained satisfaction through their actions. As one respondent told della Porta (1992b: 283), following a bombing attack, ‘the very fact of seeing that thing burning and falling down, that made me happy’. Another interviewee added, ‘we had this tendency to find our gratification only at the military level’ (ibid). The Italian Context Socially, Italy was transforming, with existing social influences and networks being undermined by societal transformations. Younger generations searched for new forms of collective identities and allegiances that their parents and religion could no longer provide. Politically, the stagnation and circulation of a small number of elites, lack of confidence in weak coalition governments and limited representation of working classes and students within local and national politics provided a vacuum. Terror groups were able to take advantage of the disenfranchisement and disillusionment that many people felt. Alternative leaders and opportunities for change were offered that built upon many of the challenging perspectives that worker and student groups had introduced during the turmoil of 1968–69 when political, industrial and

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educational institutions struggled to contain disruptions and disturbances (Silj, 1979). In other words, these radical ideologies had already been introduced, an atmosphere of tension and demand for change had permeated universities and factories, and numerous acts of violence had been undertaken in struggles with the police and fascists. Consequently, a number of potential barriers had already been breached. There was less distance for potential activists to travel in forming or joining terror groups and committing acts of terrorism. Within these circumstances, the further radicalisation of recent ways of thinking and behaving that also connected with historical legacies of violence and liberation attracted interest and support. All these factors were clearly influential for individuals who became involved during the early 1970s. But as Weinberg and Eubank (1987, 1993) have identified, some of the reasons differed for those who became members from 1976 onwards. Certainly the frustrations and anger with institutional politics and limited levels of representation remained, and indeed were arguably intensified with the failure of the New Left alliance, the Democratic Proletarian Party, to attract more than 2 per cent of the national electorate vote. Many disillusioned members of the New Left were recruited to ‘red’ terror groups. In addition, the threat of fascism continued to feature as a consequence of ‘black’ terror activities. This was also a period of economic uncertainty, with high rates of unemployment and inflation that adversely affected the prospects of workers and students alike. In addition, the activities of the early 1970s militants had an impact upon the succeeding generation who were cognisant about preceding outcomes and were, as Weinberg and Eubank (1987: 90) point out, ‘in a better position than the first generation to accurately judge the costs, risks and opportunities involved’. Finally, Karmon (2001) suggests that there was considerable consternation within the larger student movement that the concessions granted as a result of the 1968 revolt were to be revoked in proposed university reforms. Consequently, like the first generation of ‘red’ violent militants, the second generation was also influenced by a multitude of factors, albeit with a different blend. Case Studies of Events Individual life histories provide insights into the importance of these events, factors that inspired individuals to join terror groups when experienced within particular networks. An early Red Brigades communiqué (1971, reported in Manconi, 1991: 120) refers to the significance of ‘Piazza Fontana, Pinelli, shooting policeman, imprisoned comrades, Della Torre and many others killed, fascist hit squads protected by the police, judges, meddling politicians, the ruling classes, the owners’ lackeys’. Della Porta (1992b: 268) identifies the significance of the perceived fascist threat, particularly after the Piazzo Fontana massacre and the implementation of the ‘strategy of tension’. The threat was enhanced with the perceived complicity of Italian state forces within fascist attacks and networks. This provided further justification for the use of violence as a defensive mechanism and meant that it was considered ‘unavoidable that we started to equip ourselves in a military way’ (ibid) in light of these threats and attacks upon other group members. And in turn,


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the use of violence by the ‘red’ terror groups attained a symbolic value of their power and potential. These issues feature in a range of biographies. Clashes with the police and in particular the deaths of supporters have been extremely important in radicalisation and gained a symbolic value of sacrifice for the movement. Renato Curcio, the leader of the Red Brigades, is reported to have become committed to violence as a consequence of the death of two protesting farm labourers in 1968 (Silj, 1979). Novelli and Tranfaglia (1988: 206) report on the positive impact of the ‘April Days’ of 1975 upon recruitment to terror groups. The deaths of supporters in the protests and fighting ‘were the moment when rage and the desire to rebel came to possess us all’. Political stagnation and the need to transform society are also identified by former members as reasons for their radicalisation. Jamieson (1989: 104) discusses the left-wing militant couple, Adriana Faranda and Valerio Morucci, who had become radicalised separately. Faranda became more militant when she realised that people were being attacked or imprisoned as a consequence of participating in peaceful demonstrations, and that improvements to society were not being achieved. Consequently, she ‘became convinced that to bring about a radical transformation the only possible way was through revolution, which necessitated violence’. Other militants like Alberto Franceschini (reported in Silj, 1979) expressed their dissatisfaction with the inaction and ineffectiveness of the Communist Party and other left-wing groups, and decided that more militant actions were required. In a cyclical process, the threat that fascists were perceived to pose and the possibility that they could return to power contributed to individuals opposing militant groups. Fascists’ actions caused tremendous consternation and were also a major factor for many people deciding to join groups. In part this was because the ‘black’ groups tended to be more indiscriminate in their choice of location and number of casualties, as witnessed by single attacks in 1969, 1980 and 1984, which left 117 people dead and 532 injured.5 The 1969 attack at Piazza Fontana had a tremendous psychological impact upon Italian society. Jamieson (1989: 60) suggests that ‘nearly all the “first generation” of left-wing terror members will point to December 1969 [when the attack happened] as a turning point; a decisive moment in which political commitment was made’. The history of fascism in Italy and the ‘black’ members’ recent actions contributed to ‘red’ militants holding an inflated fear of the fascists’ potential. As a former member of the Red Brigades mentioned, ‘there was this rather paranoid idea of the fascists, of an immanent coup d’état hovering in the air’ (reported in Manconi, 1991: 120). This was one of the main motives for the involvement of one of the most notable ‘red’ members, the multi-millionaire publisher, Giangiacomo Feltrinelli (Weinberg and Eubank, 1987). Interpretations of the past and present combined to create concerns about the future and led to individuals joining ‘red’ groups. In turn, the growth in numbers increased fascist 5 Groups associated with the extreme right wing are believed to have killed nearly half of the 419 victims of terrorism (including the first major attack, the bomb explosion at the Piazza Fontana which killed 16 people and commenced the fascists’ ‘strategy of tension’, and the bombing of Bologna railway station which killed 85 people) between 1969 and 1987 (Jamieson, 1989).


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concerns about a ‘red’ threat, and more individuals joined fascist groups to defend Italy from a communist takeover. Ironically, groups at both extremes of the political spectrum helped the ‘other’ to recruit more members. Socialisation was instrumental within recruitment processes. Socialising Italian Militants and Processes of Radicalisation Italian militants, like those in other parts of the world, had to become disassociated from existing social and emotional ties and their identities radicalised to such an extent that they would be willing to kill for the cause. These processes, certainly for the first generation, occurred over several stages and led to individuals joining Italian terror groups. Their ‘active involvement in the armed struggle … did not generally take place in the part of single, isolated subjects but started from a network of which the individuals were part’ (Novaro, 1991: 162). In other words, these people were integrated within social relations that were instrumental in socialisation and decisions to join groups. The above analysis identified that Italy prior to, and during, the onset of terrorism had been undergoing processes of modernisation and associated upheaval. Traditional institutions associated with the Church had been undermined and the roles and impact of socialising agents were also affected. It is argued that the shift in the significance of agents created opportunities for more radical messages to be transmitted and internalised. Crucially, circumstances contributed to the belief that the distance between ideology and context could only be bridged through fundamental transformation and the use of violence. Societal changes had a negative impact upon the influence of family members. In a manner already identified in preceding chapters, older generations were unaccustomed to changes taking place or were not sharing, or could not explain, experiences with their offspring. However, this is not to state that the decline in the authority of the family was the main source of the rise of ‘red’ terrorism. Indeed, many are reported to have originated from close, integrated families and were highly regarded within their local communities (MacDonald, 1991; Silj, 1979). And some were introduced to socialist and communist ideologies by family members, many of whom had been involved in the partisan struggle and jailed for anti-fascist activities (Jamieson, 1989; Silj, 1979). Renato Curcio, the founder of the Red Brigades, was inspired by his uncle, to whom he was emotionally close and who had fought in the partisan struggle and was killed by the fascists. When explaining his commitment to the Red Brigades in a letter to his mother from prison, he stated that: ‘I have picked up the rifle which death alone, meted out by the murderous hands of the Nazi fascists, had wrenched from him [his uncle].’6 Alberto Franceschini, a member of the Red Brigades, had an intergenerational array of influences. His grandmother had been a leader of a peasant league, his grandfather had been imprisoned for antifascist actions and his father had been sent to Auschwitz. As Silj (1979: 25) observes, ‘it was with this family background that Alberto entered politics’. And because he had been exposed to, and internalised, more radical ideas and behaviour during his 6

The letter is quoted in Jamieson (1989: 70).


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upbringing, Alberto had less philosophical ground to cover to become a militant than some of his comrades. Adriana Faranda was from a prosperous middle class background and was influenced by her father, who was interested in the liberation of women.7 Another member from a middle class household, Susanna Ronconi, attributes her mother with an important role. Mrs Ronconi was an atheist and was ‘vaguely socialist and had a very optimistic outlook on life. No doubt her socialism is something she has passed on to me.’8 Weinberg and Eubank’s (1993) study discovered that just under 6 per cent of the sample had sibling relationships to other ‘terrorists’, compared to 0.5 per cent whose parents were also ‘terrorists’. This indicates that while families have been important in processes of children internalising left-wing ideologies, parents have rarely been members of terror groups. Siblings have been more instrumental in the decision to join the terror groups in a small minority of cases. And as Weinberg and Eubank (1987: 18–19) point out, many of the early leaders of the ‘red’ terror groups originated from Catholic and communist families: ‘These backgrounds … are held responsible for stimulating an outlook of unfulfilled idealism with the offspring seeking to put into practice, through violence, the principles they acquired in childhood.’ However, ‘in a country where a sizeable majority of the population is Catholic and a substantial minority is of Communist persuasion, the discovery that militants’ families were much like the rest of the country does not constitute a compelling explanation’ (ibid). Consequently, there is a need to examine the role of other socialising experiences to understand how militants developed their beliefs outside the family. A popular perception held about the militants was that they were bourgeois ‘daddy’s darlings’. However, as the earlier analysis regarding socio-economic background showed, these observations were not supported by the evidence. Certainly, many members originated from privileged backgrounds. But as Silj (1979) and Weinberg and Eubank (1987, 1993) have detailed, there were high proportions of members from petty bourgeois and working class backgrounds, and considerable numbers of manual workers, white-collar clerks, teachers and former criminals. The reduction in the dominance of the family as a socialising agent is generally associated with a concomitant increase in the role of peers. This is reflected most notably by respondents interviewed by della Porta (1992b: 266) who mentioned that ‘the comrades became my family … it is the sense of a family’. Members of terror groups tended to be of a similar age and believed that older generations had failed to deliver significant change. And while they originated from diverse backgrounds, since meeting within the radicalised atmosphere of Italy in the late 1960s and 1970s, they shared experiences and ideals. Novaro (1991) identifies that many individuals formed groups because they shared other aspects in common, for example, music. Militant ideology subsequently developed and solidified gradually within the group. During friendships, some individuals would become influential in transmitting ideas that became embedded within processes of politicisation. Indeed, recruitment to terror groups often happened through existing friendship and social ties in part 7 8

As discussed in Jamieson (1989). Ronconi is cited in MacDonald (1991: 178).

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to ensure greater levels of trust and reliability. Della Porta’s (1988) research into the background of Italian militants discovered that almost 70 per cent of people joining an underground group had at least one friend already participating, and of these, 74 per cent had two or more friends. Novaro’s (1991: 169) study of the terror social networks discovered that although groups have different relationships and distinct characteristics, they share a common link that predates the politicisation of the group: ‘This suggests that here … affective or social relationships have preconditioned and favoured individual mobilization and successive involvement in the armed struggle.’ Many radicalisation processes were incremental, progressing from legal allegiances within student and worker movements and involvement in marches, strikes, protests, disturbances and riots to membership of terror groups (della Porta, 1992b, 1995; Silj, 1979; Weinberg and Eubank, 1987). Weinberg and Eubank (1987) found in their analysis of profiles of ‘terrorists’ that very few people drifted into terrorism from political parties of the centre. Italian militants informed della Porta (1995: 169) that their decision to join terror groups had been motivated by a gradual politicisation and a ‘growing responsibility for friends’. By comparison, some individuals were inspired to undertake their first terror actions and indeed subsequently remain in groups after the arrest of friends or by their decisions to go underground. Individuals became bound up with emotional feelings and shared collective passions that made the decision to become a ‘terrorist’ easier than acting in isolation. Della Porta (1992b: 262) also discovered that militants were recruited ‘within dense networks of social relations, where political ties were strengthened by primary socialisation based on friendship and kinship relations’. Participants reported that ‘with the comrades … you built, day by day, affective ties’ (Life history no. 13, della Porta, 1992b: 263) and ‘in that period friendship coincides with politics. It is difficult for me to distinguish between friends and comrades, because politics occupies every moment of my life’ (Life history no. 9, della Porta, 1992b: 263). Individuals were in part influenced by emotional motivations, with friendships instrumental in decisions to join particular groups. There is also the interconnection between personal and political relationships found within married couples whose levels of commitment were influenced by their partner. Weinberg and Eubank’s (1993) study discovered that just under 6 per cent of the sample had a married partner who was also a member. The most notable example of this were the Red Brigades leaders Renato Curcio and Margherita Cagol (Silj, 1979). Others were recruited in prison, where they were politicised through contact with militants who had been imprisoned for their political activities. The prison movement that emerged was ‘born of the encounter between political prisoners and common criminals. It was spawned on fertile territory, in overcrowded prisons in which living conditions were, in the overwhelming majority of cases, unworthy of a civilized country’ (Silj, 1979: 149). The fertility of the environment led militant groups to extend the struggle into prisons as they sought to radically politicise prison populations through populist campaigns.


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Attention also needs to be placed upon the role of the media in processes of radicalisation and the ways in which terror groups were able to transmit messages.9 This process began as part of the wider protest movement, with a range of publications including newsletters, newspapers, journals and books published by political parties, student groups and trade unions. These forms of media were set up, usually by militant journalists, to inform readers about events in Italy and other parts of the world, for example, Vietnam.10 The alternative media also sought to address concerns about the levels of what was considered as misinformation and manipulation being expressed by the burgeoning mass media within mainstream society. Conversely, the groups also sought to rectify the perceived neglect within the mainstream of other issues which were considered to be of immense importance. The protest movement sought to expose and counteract this disinformation. Through their own publications like Proletarian Left and New Resistance at local and national levels, they sought to mobilise radical working class support and highlight terror activities in other countries (Lumley, 1990; Weinberg and Eubank, 1987). Informal notice boards within universities and public places and the widespread use of graffiti were also used to communicate political slogans and satire in order to attract support and verbally attack the mainstream media, political parties and figures. Communication was also achieved through more abstract methods within plays, songs and public performances. And like in the other case studies, ‘newspapers, weekly newsmagazines, and television programs provide the public with accounts of a seemingly endless number of scandals involving bribery, influence peddling, and other forms of political corruption’ (Weinberg, 1986: 150). Thus the national press provided reports and images that helped legitimise both militant critiques of the government and nation-state and fundamentally oppositional discourse. Changes within education have been discussed above. Unlike the impact of schooling discussed within the preceding chapters, there is little suggestion that education played such a direct role in the socialising of Italian militants. At first glance, this may appear surprising because analysis of the background of militants has indicated that a significant proportion were teachers. Similarly, many individuals involved in protests during the late 1960s within universities11 were subsequently employed as teachers or worked within communities (Lumley, 1990). The precise extent to which these teachers disseminated militant ideology within classrooms is unclear. There are only limited references to the role of teachers within the life histories of numerous people convicted of terrorism. Terrorism in Italy emerged due to a combination of political, economic, cultural and social transformations that connected into popular representations. In order 9 Della Porta (1995) calculated that over 61 per cent of terror groups’ resources was allocated to propaganda. 10 Although the mobilisation of the Italian militants was less connected with this conflict than in West Germany. 11 Protests were not confined to universities. Upper secondary schools, while not as prominent, were the sites of considerable disturbances. Pupils rebelling in part against the tight restrictions they faced within the institutions, and in part imitating the language and tactics of the university movement, became involved in demonstrations, strikes and occupations as they sought to change the nature of pedagogy (Lumley, 1990).

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to establish the broader significance of these issues, the remainder of the chapter explores the rise of ‘red’ groups in West Germany and Japan. Introduction: The German Comparator By comparison with the Italian experience of ‘red’, and also ‘black’, terrorism, Germany’s encounter was less extreme. German groups like the Red Army Faction (RAF), also known, following media coverage, as the Baader-Meinhof Gang, the 2 June Movement and the Revolutionary Cells, never attracted the level of support that their peers in Italy attained. Astrid Proll, an early member of RAF, estimates that at the height of the group’s activities there were no more than 30 members (MacDonald, 1991). Although there was a wider support network, the limited number of active members is reflected in the restricted activities undertaken. Between 1972 and 1978, 28 people had been killed by left-wing militants and several hundred attacks on individuals and property had been undertaken. Fifteen militants also died. Historically, although Germany had some experience of left- and right-wing terrorism within the Weimar Republic, and there were two attempts to assassinate Emperor Wilhelm I in 1878, the groups and individuals responsible tended to be isolated. The restricted nature of these activities meant that groups during the 1970s and 1980s could not connect with historical consciousness. By comparison, radicalism was embedded within Italian culture following earlier periods of anarchism, and the partisan struggle provided a legacy that groups could utilise. Consequently, there was greater novelty and less precedence about German terrorism than in Italy. Despite this, they attracted considerable public interest and government reaction, and they remain embedded within popular representations of terrorism today. And as Varon (2004: 198) explains, ‘the meaning and intensity of the West German conflict must be sought neither in its body count nor in the roster of destruction, but in its symbolic impact and how it functioned as a symptom of larger political, social, and historical tensions’. Post War German Context As the leading member of the fascist axis, Germany was defeated in the Second World War. The aftermath of defeat has arguably been harder for Germany to come to terms with, in part because the Nazis were the dominant partner in the alliance. Further, Germans had to confront large-scale atrocities that their leaders had initiated and which had been carried out in their name, in particular the genocide of Jews, gypsies and disabled people. In the aftermath of the Third Reich’s destruction and the division of territory into West and East Germany, there was some acknowledgement of Nazi crimes within education, the media, in theatre and most memorably during war crimes trials, especially that of Adolf Eichmann in 1961. But as Rasch (1979) and Varon (2004) mention, this focus on the mistakes of the past was intermittent and concentrated upon public analysis. Within households, there was little or no discussion. This contributed to the younger generation feeling ignorant about the past and the role of their parents, and often resentful about the


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blanket of silence that surrounded the Nazi era. Such reticence contributed to a belief that the Nazi threat had not been exorcised. The relative lack of prosecutions of war criminals and the presence of former Nazis within the military12 and other positions of authority, including universities, did little to quell concerns that fascism could return. Economically, West Germany (the Federal Republic of Germany or FDR) underwent an ambitious programme of reform and people were encouraged to consume. Rasch (1979: 163) suggests that ‘the post-war years were marked by extreme materialism, ruthless striving for profit, and affluence-fetishism’ while simultaneously ‘a number of marginal social groups were ignored and received no assistance’. Wasmund (1986) argues that the German ‘economic miracle’ which commenced from the mid 1950s led to political and social stability. The downside of the stability was that it concentrated upon the status quo and contributed to political rigidity. But as della Porta (1995) notes, social conflict was less radicalised because the post war economic development of Germany incorporated and institutionalised the mass labour movement. Politically, the FDR quickly introduced democracy in the post war years and stability was reflected within the broad coalitions incorporating the three main parties, the Christian Democratic Union (CUP), the Social Democratic Party (SDP) and the Liberal Party (LP), that dominated German politics. Following disappointing election results in 1957, which saw the CUP gain a parliamentary majority, the SDP transformed from a left-wing to a more consensual reformist party, leaving socialists and communists without political representation. This further cemented the centrality within German politics, and contributed to depolarisation and the marginalisation of radical opposition. Extremes across the political spectrum, however, had limited appeal (della Porta, 1995) because of the recent history of fascism and the considerable current threat of communism in the neighbouring Soviet bloc. The impression of consensus was reinforced with the formation of the ‘Great Coalition’ between the CUP and the SDP when the state faced major economic recession in 1966–67. With only the marginalised LP in opposition, there was limited challenge to the government. Increasing numbers of people began to feel distanced from the political process, particularly on the fringes of the spectrum where opposition to perceived exclusion was forming. In 1969, the coalition changed and the CUP was replaced by the LP. This centre–left coalition was ideologically closer to the student movement and promised an era of ‘internal reforms’ (Rasch, 1979; Wasmund, 1986). However, these reforms did little to appease student demands and many, including Gudrun Esslin, one of the leaders of the RAF (Becker, 1978), became further radicalised by what they considered to be the failure of electoral politics to instigate fundamental changes. At this stage, the student movement fractured between different ideological perspectives and strategies. Militant groups formed in the vacuum to represent the ‘repressed minority’ against the overbearing, all-powerful state. Socially, Germany was also encountering tremendous change. As in other parts of the West, younger generations were taking advantage of opportunities and developing 12 Brückner (1976) estimated that in 1965, 60 per cent of military officers had fought for the Nazis and at least 66 per cent of judges had worked within the Third Reich’s legal system.

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new types of appearance, music, lifestyles and political identification that distanced them from older generations. Nowhere was this more apparent than in West Berlin, where a counter-culture formed that expressed alternative lifestyles, difference and anti-bourgeois sentiments. Practically, there was a plentiful supply of cheap accommodation for students and protestors, and several communes were established (MacDonald, 1991; Wasmund, 1986). Within the cross-cutting political, economic and social themes, different strands of opposition to the status quo emerged that contributed to an atmosphere of radicalism, which was also noticeable in Italy, and provided the stimulus that led to the growth of terrorism as an offshoot. As Bommi Baumann (1981), the leader of the 2 June Movement, observed, West Berlin became a melting pot of ideas and revolutionary fervour spreading through bars and cafes. Because of Berlin’s proximity to communist borders, the presence of large numbers of protestors and communist sympathisers in the most sensitive strategic place in the FDR caused tremendous resentment amongst other West Germans, particularly those living in the city. Mainstream media enragement ensued and contributed to a further widening between opposing views. During the 1960s, German students became immersed in protests that were reverberating around Western cities. And as in Italy, the protests spilled over into violence, with students seriously injured or killed by the police and subsequently becoming martyrs, beginning with Benno Ohnesorg.13 Student groups increasingly explained police actions through reference to the fascist past. The war in Vietnam became an emotive issue that united a broad range of protestors committed to challenging both American actions and the apparent indifference of the majority of West Germans. This indifference was a source of concern to protestors. To them, indifference equated to the tacit support that was given to the Nazis, and parallels were drawn between American and Nazi activities (Varon, 2004). There were also protests about the American atomic bomb and the presence of US military forces in West Germany. Unsurprisingly, the revolt against the United States caused considerable consternation among the political elite at a time when the FDR was moving closer to the Western alliance, and among millions of West Germans who recalled the role of America in providing essential support during the Berlin Blockade. Emergence of German Terrorism From 1967, arson and violent attacks by left-wing and anarchist groups became increasingly noticeable, especially in West Berlin, as part of the wider student movement and ‘extra-parliamentary opposition’14 (Neidhardt, 1992). The level and intensity of the protests increased after the death of Ohnesorg, and a distinct protest movement emerged in 1968. At this time, Andreas Baader, the recognised leader of the RAF, Esslin and two others began their escalation into violence, with small arson attacks as acts of protest. It seems that the attacks were in part to raise public awareness about events in Vietnam and to challenge indifference. But they were also 13 Ohnesorg was killed during a march in 1967 against the visiting Iranian Shah. 14 As part of this opposition, the number of communist members belonging to different groups in 1971 was estimated to be 80,000 (Varon, 2004).


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about challenging Germany’s past and present. Horst Mahler, who was instrumental in the formation of the RAF, legally defended Baader, following arrest, and explained that they were acts of ‘rebellion against a generation that had tolerated millions of crimes in the Nazi era … The defendants had concluded that they could not possibly continue to go along with a society founded on exploitation, injustice and oppression’ (quoted in Aust, 1987: 59). Within this environment, the RAF formed in 1970 and was subsequently followed by the 2 June Movement and the Revolutionary Cells. Initially the RAF had some degree of popular support for their initial phase of ‘violence against property’. But after the group’s actions became increasingly violent against humans, notably during the ‘May offensive’ in 1972, and it bombed US military bases, killing one officer, this rapidly dissipated (MacDonald, 1991; Varon, 2004). Following the arrest of the first generation’s leaders, groups shifted attention from broader, international issues to the prisons and legal system. The rhetorical protest now concentrated upon the roles of the judiciary and police and the mistreatment that the prisoners were allegedly experiencing. Terror attacks continued, and during the 1970s and to a lesser extent the 1980s, German ‘red’ groups committed or were involved in a number of high profile actions. These included bombing American military sites and the German embassy in Stockholm, hijacking a plane at Mogadishu, Somalia, and kidnapping leading figures including the President of the West Berlin Parliament. The activities of the ‘red’ West German terror groups peaked during the 1970s but they continued to varying degrees throughout the 1980s. The RAF continued to attack targets, killing military and business figures and going on hunger strike in prison (Horchem, 1991). During the early 1990s, the RAF remained active, but these were isolated attacks with little support following the collapse of communism and German unification. The group formally dissolved in 1998. Ultimately, the ‘red’ militants failed to mobilise popular support. There was clear distaste for their activities from those people who had lived through the Nazi regime and considered, contrary to the groups’ claims, that despite failings with West German liberal democracy, it was nothing like fascism. Ideologies and Motivations behind ‘Red’ West German Terrorism The ideologies of West German groups were similar to the Italian groups, although they were less grounded in traditional Marxist ideology and placed greater emphasis upon anti-imperalism (della Porta, 1995). The groups made frequent reference to capitalism, imperialism, international affairs, particularly Vietnam and the Palestinian conflict, and considerable critique of the West German state and its links with fascism discussed above. This broad range of issues grew out of the New Left and enabled the groups to claim to represent the West German working classes,15 the poor, the suppressed and people across the world who were exposed to imperialist control and exploitation. But while various combinations of Marxist, Leninist and 15 Although as della Porta (1995) notes, the RAF were much more pessimistic than the Red Brigades about the revolutionary potential of the working classes, which they considered had been corrupted by capitalism.


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Maoist thought were advocated, a comprehensive ideology was not developed and publications were often ambiguous. Such was the lack of attention to ideological discourse that a manifesto was not issued until the group had been in operation for 11 months. And while subsequent attempts were made to ‘articulate its ideology; from the start, its writings were fragmentary, sloganistic, and, on important points, contradictory’ (Varon, 2004: 65). It is, however, clear that the ‘red’ militants had confidence in symbolic actions and were driven by the belief that a revolution was required in West Germany. One of the most significant RAF members, Ulrike Meinhof, declared that, ‘The comrades who joined the movement saw it as the only real way of doing their revolutionary duty’ and, after becoming ‘deeply disappointed by the actions of the student movement and the Extra-Parliamentary Opposition, they thought it essential to spread the idea of armed struggle’.16 However, there was a lack of clarity about how the revolution would be achieved and what the new system would constitute. That violence was a means to an end was apparent. What this end may be was much more opaque. These factors help to explain why people within groups were motivated to escalate their actions into violence. However, it does not explain why people joined the groups initially. In part this is because the first generation of groups, and individuals within, tended to incrementally move towards violence. It also needs to be acknowledged that people were motivated by high levels of excitement (della Porta, 1992b, 1995). Astrid Proll, in conversation with MacDonald (1991: 212), picks up on feelings of excitement that arose when living life as a rebel underground. She explains that ‘you must understand that then the most fantastic thing in the world was not to be a rock star, but a revolutionary’. Other people were motivated to react to what they considered to be state oppression and against the recent history of fascism. Mahler (1980: 269) explains: ‘How could young people, enthusiastic about the universal good, feel ok in a state that had already shown itself as a murderous Leviathan, as the institutionalized crime against humanity? This is the reason why this form of terrorism … appeared rightly in West Germany, Italy and Japan.’ Consequently, it is possible to observe a mixture of egotistical and altruistic motivations behind the ‘red’ acts of terrorism. The German Context As in Italy, the reasons for ‘red’ terrorism in Germany are multi-faceted. Particular events and formative experiences played a prominent role. For example, the shooting of Ohnesorg by the police contributed to the German left being subsequently ‘specially sensitive’ (Bougereau, 1981). These same acts helped activate Gudrun Esslin and led to Jan-Carle Raspe, who was to die in prison at the same time, joining the SDS (Sozialistischer Deutscher Studentenbund or Socialist German Students’ Union). Mahler discusses how the violent tactics employed by the police against the student movement contributed to a growing sense that the state was unjust and a belief that retaliatory violence was the only response that would prove effective. 16 Meinhof is quoted in Aust (1987: 258–9).


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After other methods of protest failed, terrorism became the last opportunity to avoid surrender to repression (Willey, 1990). Astrid Proll expresses these sentiments in conversation with MacDonald (1991: 211): ‘at the time we felt that the State was the oppressor and that we had the right to use violence because we were the State’s victims.’ Hans Joachim Klein, a member of the Revolutionary Cells who was wounded during the kidnapping of OPEC ministers in Vienna, became politically conscious after he witnessed police brutality against a woman and was attacked in her defence. From this point, he became involved with student activists and, through discussion, his views were gradually radicalised (Bougereau, 1981). His radicalisation was completed when Holger Meins, a convicted member of the RAF, died in prison during a hunger strike. ‘For me, it acted like a trigger: I had to put an end to the impotence of legality’ (in discussion with Bougereau, 1981: 19). Speitel (1980: 41) also comments upon the death as being a ‘key experience … The death of Holger Meins and the decision to take up arms were one and the same’. Treatment within prison generally, the ‘isolation torture’ policy introduced in 1973, hunger strikes and reports of force-feeding and mistreatment, were politicised. Support and membership for the terror groups from the second and third generations was mobilised by these factors. Other people were influenced by acts of rebellion like the arson attacks. To reiterate a point made in previous chapters, these events in isolation did not immediately lead to people joining terror groups. Certainly, there were contributing factors, triggering militancy, but this happened within the broader context which individuals considered required fundamental change. As Astrid Proll (in MacDonald, 1991: 211) mentions, the emergence of the group ‘had a lot to do with the post-war conditions in West Germany. We, the young generation, decided that we would never participate or keep quiet about something that was bad in society, as our parents had done. We hated our parents because they were former Nazis who had never come clean about their past.’ She then expresses the view that Nazism had not been fully acknowledged. Nazis remained within post war Germany: ‘They were everywhere – every second person was a Nazi, and they held powerful jobs in business and in the judiciary; the Nazis just continued their careers’ (ibid). Mahler argued that the fascist past and concerns about the role of parents contributed to him feeling ‘ashamed of being German’.17 The extent to which recent history impacted upon politicisation is highlighted by the case of Silke Maier-Witt who belonged to the RAF’s second generation and found her father’s SS memorabilia during adolescence. These were issues which members of the RAF considered needed confronting. Alongside events in West Germany, the more widely documented international issues associated with American ‘imperialism’ and revolutionary movements that were forming in the developing world were also instrumental.18 Radicalisation also seems to have followed a similar process to the Italian routes. For many people, the decision to join terror groups arose after gradual politicisation and participation in committees, organisations, marches, demonstrations and 17 The quote is reported in Varon (2004: 247). 18 The links were particularly strong with some Middle Eastern, predominantly Palestinian, groups.

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confrontation with the police while some lived in communes. As Ulrike Meinhof explained when describing the routes of RAF militants, ‘All of us come from there: from the street battles of Berlin students in 1967–68 against the police, from the sit-ins, and from the attempt … to make socialist politics at the limit of legality’ (cited in Neidhardt, 1982: 339). And actions by the state to eradicate terrorism did result in the imprisonment of most of the first generation, but they also contributed to the mobilisation of the second and third generations. Wasmund (1986) argues that these generations did not slowly evolve towards violence but consciously chose to employ the ‘armed struggle’ at the groups’ formation, although it can be argued that the gradual evolution for individuals occurred prior to the formation. In a cyclical process, the state’s actions against the groups and suspected sympathizers became more repressive. Such actions provided further examples of ‘re-fascistification’ that contributed to new challenges from people witnessing acts of police brutality, abuse of human rights and perceived inhumane treatment in prison. State reactions to the surge in terrorism, particularly the massive security precautions for trials and imprisonment, also provided the groups with a political stature that their actions rarely warranted and exaggerated their capacity and potential. Socialising Processes and German Terrorism There was a range of people belonging to the groups from both genders19 and different socio-economic backgrounds, including Hans Joachim Klein who was employed in menial jobs. Bougereau (1981) identifies the employment backgrounds of four members of the 2 June Movement, prosecuted in 1978, as being printer, driver, welder and student. Despite this, there is a noticeable dominance of younger people and middle class representatives, particularly within the leadership (Wasmund, 1986). Neidhardt’s (1992) comparative analysis of West German left- and right-wing terror groups showed that the former were considerably better educated. Leading members of the RAF were socialised within families that were usually linked with Nazism, and indeed in some respects could be considered oppositional, albeit covertly. Baader originated in a middle class family. His paternal aunt and uncle were arrested for leading an anti-Nazi student campaign and his father discussed joining the resistance movement.20 Meinhof was also born into a middle class family. Her father, who died when she was six, was an art historian and was believed to belong to Church opposition to the Nazis. A female friend of her mother’s moved into the family home after the death of her father. They were both opposed to the Nazis and had limited contacts with the resistance. Gudrun Esslin’s family were also middle class. Her father was a Protestant pastor who was spiritually influenced by opposition to the 19 The involvement of a significant number of prominent females within the movement contributed to the fascination of Western societies with their roles, which translated into greater press coverage and emphasis upon equality and emancipation. Having said this, there is strong evidence to suggest that Baader’s treatment of women was sexist (Becker, 1978; MacDonald, 1991). 20 Despite the intention, Baader’s father did not join the movement and is believed to have been killed by the Russians during the Second World War.


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Nazi regime. Together with his wife, he challenged the nature of society. Both are believed to have been instrumental in the early politicisation of their daughter (Aust, 1987; Becker, 1978; Varon, 2004). Jan-Carle Raspe was another member from the middle class. His father was a businessman and died21 before his birth. Holger Meins was also the son of a business executive and Horst Mahler’s father was a dentist. Within the leadership, there was considerable suspicion of the active or complicit involvement of older generations within the Nazi regime. But while some members did experience generational divides and fundamental concerns about the role of parents in the Nazi regime, or their complicity, generally the RAF leaders appeared to lack the intense hatred towards their parents felt by many members of the German New Left. Although families had some impact upon the politicisation of militants, through early exposure to left-wing ideologies, recruiting other family members to terror groups, for example, partners, brothers, sisters (Wasmund, 1983), friends and peers generally had a more instrumental role. Similarities can be noticed with Italian cases and the manner in which friends, peers and acquaintances (and family members) acted as gatekeepers to groups, restricting membership to people they trusted and whose loyalty could be relied upon. It was extremely difficult for people without such contacts to become members of existing groups, which resulted in some people forming their own groups, particularly in Italy. The role of friends varied in intensity and nature. Some people, like Klein, became engaged in political discussion and activity over a beer with students in pubs (Bougereau 1981). Other militants, including Bommi Baumann,22 report on the impact of friends, with ‘recruitment in political groups sometimes started for non-political reasons on the basis of personal sympathies’ (Jäger, 1981: 147). Similarly, militants in the second generation were also influenced by the actions of friends or, as Jäger comments, as acts of solidarity following the arrest of friends, who often belonged to the first generation. The bonds generated within these groups proved to be extremely solid and, as in Italy, contacts through affective relations were often instrumental in the decision to form or join groups. Neidhardt (1982: 341) explains that individuals who joined the RAF were ‘tied to each other to form a network, by means of personal acquaintances, of shared participation in communes, also of love stories, and in some cases also of a shared social work’. Affective relations that were often founded in friendship, before forming or joining militant groups, became stronger. And as in Italy, the personal became subsumed by the political, and relations outside the groups became weaker or ended. Neidhardt (1992) points out that the levels of defectors from the ‘red’ groups were minimal, particularly when compared with the fascist groups.

21 Initial analysis of the backgrounds of high profile members identifies a high proportion who had parents that died during their childhood or else were divorced. It would, however, be misleading to overemphasise the significance of this. As Wasmund’s (1986: 202) review of the backgrounds of ‘terrorists’ detailed, by the time the children entered adolescence, 15 per cent were living in fatherless homes, 6 per cent were motherless and 5 per cent orphaned. Approximately three out of four originated from ‘complete’ family homes. 22 Baumann (1976: 273) claims that he ‘had joined the group because of Georg. I knew that he had decided to do some things and I did not want to abandon him.’

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German ‘red’ terrorism also employed a range of communication techniques. But because of their limited number of members in comparison to the Italian case study, and less widespread support, the use of methods for providing information through the public distribution of leaflets, street graffiti, and so on was not as extensive. As della Porta (1995) details, FDR groups dedicated less of their resources to propaganda than Italian groups. This is not to say that they neglected propaganda. On the contrary, while they used less resources for the purposes of counter-information, the figure remained high (44 per cent), and while opposed to mass media bias, they were clearly cognisant about the potential for utilising it. Through the reportage of their high profile actions, ranging from attacks to hunger strikes, court appearances and access to legal representatives by television, radio and newspapers, the groups were able to gain extensive publicity, albeit through the critical lens of the popular media. In this way, different media outlets contributed to groups’ mythology and exaggerated their capacity to threaten state institutions, which brought about support from people impressed by their potential and images of state powerlessness. These images also conversely added to processes of stigmatisation and feelings of anger and hatred held by other sectors of the population, including military forces. Again as in Italy, the student movement was a crucial forerunner of terror groups, providing opportunities for social networks to build, the impetus for further radicalisation and training in organisational and communication skills that were to prove invaluable when transferred into terrorism. For some participating individuals, like Ulrike Meinhof, and many young people across the world, universities were places where they became politically active, developing social consciousness, attending meetings and protests, belonging to political groups and contributing to journals and newsletters. Universities were also places to recruit through social networks. Protest emerged in part over international concerns associated with Vietnam and national problems associated with the direction of German governments. But as Becker (1978) outlines, there were also issues to address within universities. For example, the number of students had risen dramatically during the 1960s but facilities had not expanded proportionately, nor had the curricula been revised to meet changing requirements. Instead lecturing and accommodation buildings were often unsuitable. Traditional lines of authority and ways of administration remained firmly in place that did not acknowledge different values like freedom of speech and ways of behaviour that students were bringing from their post war schooling and broader socialisation. In addition, after removing lecturers and administrators with links to the Nazis in the post war period, many were reinstated because of a serious staffing shortage. This connected with wider concerns about the continuing role of Nazis in influential positions across society. And within universities, the generational divide also became apparent as many younger members of staff, frustrated by the hierarchical system, supported student demands for change. Finally, socialising agents were not restricted to these four influences. Prisons were instrumental in the formative experiences of some individuals, who became politicised through contact with militants while imprisoned. Della Porta (1995) also identifies the role of social workers in interconnecting personal, social and political problems, which contributed to processes of radicalisation.


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Application of Processes to Japan An examination of Japanese society identifies a number of similarities with Italy and West Germany. The most obvious congruities are Japan’s fascist past and defeat alongside the other two countries. And Japan also introduced democracy and economic regeneration in the post war years. Like in the FDR, dramatic economic growth was achieved which co-opted the majority of the Japanese population, who were attracted by rising living standards and consumerism. There was also a mass reform movement that challenged the legitimacy of the government and repressive law enforcement agencies. In addition, protests were noticeable against a raft of national and international policies, including the Japan–United States Treaty, the American war in Vietnam and imperialism. By the late 1960s, the movement had become ‘discouraged, demoralized and depoliticized’ (Box and McCormack, 2004: 91). Out of these circumstances, the Red Army formed, led by students and former students who had lost confidence in other forms of protest and turned to violence. After declaring themselves to be a vanguard of international revolution, the group began a campaign of violence and developed international links with revolutionary groups around the world. The police quickly clamped down on their activities and related protests and activities within Japan became restricted. Partly as consequence of this, the group split into three: the United Red Army remained in Japan, the Yodo Group relocated to communist North Korea, and the Japanese Red Army (JRA) sought refuge in Lebanon (Box and McCormack, 2004; Chang, 1991). The first group practised self and group criticism, descended into violent purges and twelve members were killed. The Yodo Group became closely associated with the North Korean leadership and their international radicalism was undermined. By comparison, the JRA became involved within international conflicts. Palestinian issues were particularly prominent and the group undertook activities with the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP). The extent of these relations contributed to criticism that Middle Eastern issues had taken precedence over localised matters. Despite actions diminishing, the group had longevity and was not formally dissolved until 2001. All the defeated fascist countries sought to recover from war losses and the psychological challenge confronting peoples who had been self-declared superior. For Japan, this challenge was exacerbated by the Emperor’s almost divine status. For the three nation-states, the fascist past had to be overcome as they sought to transform shattered economies and socialising processes. Like the other two countries, Japan invested heavily in education and opportunities increased. Again the infrastructure was not modernised, resulting in overcrowding and inadequate facilities, while lectures were uninspiring: issues that contributed to student radicalisation. Farrell (1990: 28) argues that educational programmes were designed to ‘destroy the myths and national indoctrination previously imposed upon the youth of Japan’. In the place of previous values, Western principles were introduced, like freedom, which challenged previous generations’ ways of thinking. Many students pursued the concept of freedom within institutions, only to discover that limits were imposed and many state practices were safeguarded. These problems, new ways of thinking and concern that former fascists continued to be employed

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within institutions contributed to support for the Communist Party and strikes and demonstrations in 1950. The government reacted by purging known communist activists. Demonstrations and strikes were prohibited, which seriously undermined the acceptance of democratic ideals and the concept of political freedom. The role of the United States government contributed to the concept of democracy23 and the nature of freedom being questioned, particularly when considered within a frame of reference that focused upon American imperialism. By 1952, clashes between extreme left-wing protesters and the police were frequent and resulted in a couple of deaths, many injuries and arrests. A period of peace then ensued as the Communist Party adopted non-violent means of achieving change, which was shattered when political rallies ended in violence and occasionally the death of ‘martyrs’. Throughout the 1960s, student extremists engaged in more violent political protests, with support mobilised through issues like the American war in Vietnam. Pitched battles became common and were widely reported within the media (Wight and Bakke, 1971), and fighting within the student movement became prominent. Japan’s ‘economic miracle’ engaged many millions of people who experienced improving lifestyles. Consequently, as in the FDR, it was difficult for radical groups to attract support on materialist grounds. Farrell (1990) reports on the overwhelming public opposition to prolonged student extremism, and employers began to reject radicals as managerial recruits. The police also concentrated their attention on militants within the broader movement, restricting opportunities for popular protests and arresting influential figures. In 1969, faced with increasing restraints, diminishing support and growing disillusionment with the direction of the Japanese state, a core of militants decided to undertake more radical actions in order to mobilise the populace, namely acts of terrorism. Like their peers in West Germany and Italy, members of the various factions originated from a cross-section of poor, middle class and wealthy backgrounds. There was also a number of brothers who belonged to particular groups and who were instrumental in the recruitment of their siblings. And as in the German and Italian groups, a number of members’ beliefs became radicalised after they joined. Generally though, again as in the other two case studies, it appears that members, in particular of the first generation, emerged out of the broader protest movement. Conclusion As Della Porta (1995: 47) identifies in her comparative analysis of political violence in Germany and Italy, there are ‘both marked similarities and significant differences’. Japan can be added to the shortlist. West Germans, Japanese and Italians involved in terrorism largely shared political ideologies and were motivated by ideological sources, not materialism. They were inspired by the fascist past and current national and international problems. All the groups emerged out of wider movements that were seen to have failed to achieve necessary reforms. Italy, Germany and Japan shared a number

23 Democracy had been introduced, heavily influenced by the American occupation led by General Douglas MacArthur.


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of similarities in their experiences of terrorism, including the involvement of females, the importance of schools and universities as places of recruitment, the relatively young age of supporters and members, and tactics that included bombing, shooting and kidnapping. All had societies that had to deal with the legacies of fascism, defeat in the Second World War and the subsequent rebuilding programme for economic and political systems. Different post war approaches were adopted in the three nationstates. Yet all societies encountered terror groups undertaking actions within urban areas against property and influential people, in support of left-wing ideologies. Individuals became immersed, and participated, within social networks and political counter-cultures that were to influence their radicalisation and led to decisions to take up violence as a legitimate strategy. They tended to graduate to terrorism from other types of political organisations and activities, as they disassociated from previous ways of acting and thinking and developed a more militant identity. A range of socialising agents was instrumental in these processes, the most notable being peers who were to prove extremely influential in the formation of radical identities. Friends were important, both within decisions to join groups, and subsequent relationships and feelings of solidarity and loyalty. Within these intense group relationships, military rhetoric was increasingly used to explain their actions. The ‘other’ became de-personalised, which contributed to individuals being able to use violence against them. Ultimately, the concentration and isolation within groups contributed to their downfall, because they became removed from the communities they claimed to represent. People were motivated to action by a range of factors that can be seen to have legitimised the militant ideology and justified the use of violence. These factors include state violence, international issues, personal loss and acts against friends. Despite the establishment of democracy in Italy, Japan and West Germany, many people felt powerless, unable to influence state policy or have recourse to government power. In Italy, these factors ignited cultural ways of violent behaviour that had been embedded within aspects of Italian society, which Mannheim (1956: 84) refers to as the ‘cake of custom’. Collective memories of radical ideological adherence had retained significance and were used to explain and address contemporary problems. This source of radicalism also provided the basis for contestation against an enemy (fascists) that was viewed as a continuing threat. In West Germany and Japan, there was much less of a tradition of ideological violence that the ‘red’ terror groups could utilise. Nor was there the same potential for mobilising a broad coalition of supporters that existed in Italy because political discourse was more inclusive and institutionalised. Consequently, West German and Japanese working classes in particular were less inclined to support acts of violence being carried out on their behalf. And as a consequence of much less support, there were considerably fewer encounters between the militants and police. In Italy, such encounters became everyday experiences and helped to further mobilise opposition to the state, with seemingly more evidence available about its fascistic intent. Despite this difference in support, ‘red’ terrorism in all the countries became isolated. Democratic institutions became stronger and more embedded within societies, reforms were implemented that helped address many of the concerns raised by the wider movement during the 1960s, and the groups faded into irrelevancy.


Chapter 6

From Left to Right: Terrorism within America from the 1960s to Today Introduction The nature of terrorism committed by Americans has been transformed during the last 40 years. There has been a shift from left-wing revolutionary ideologies associated with the Weather Underground and Symbionese Liberation Army to the militia and racialist movement that emerged during the 1980s and the Pro-life activists belonging to the Army of God. This chapter examines the first, and arguably most important, group from the New Left, the Weather Underground, because of their early prominence and ideological connections to the ‘red’ terrorism within Europe. This leads into the chapter’s main focus upon the subsequent rise of extreme rightwing groups associated with militia and racialist movements. Because of similarities within socialising processes between the different ‘red’ urban terror groups, the Weather Underground is examined in considerably less depth than the militant rightwing groups. The Weather Underground From 1969, the Weather Underground (the ‘Weather’) was involved in a number of bombing campaigns on campuses and against financial, political and military strategic targets. The last notable, and arguably most notorious, action was undertaken by the latter generation in 1981 when a Brinks truck was robbed and two policemen and one guard were killed. By this time, many of the first generation of members had withdrawn from the underground during a period of diminishing political divisions. The group was never widely popular and it is estimated that membership never exceeded several hundred. Prior to the Brinks robbery, only three non-members had been killed by groups associated with the New Left and these had been unintentional (Jacobs, 1997; Varon, 2004). However, there was both an organised and informal support network that is believed to have incorporated several thousand individuals within organisations or operating independently. Although to a lesser extent than their peers within Italy, Japan and West Germany, the Weather had a longer lasting influence within American society than their actions and support levels warranted. And like the West European and Japanese groups, the Weather emerged out of a broader social movement that was dominated by students, in this instance, the Students for a Democratic Society (SDS).

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Braungart and Braungart (1992) point out that the emergence of the Weather needs to be established within the wider context. The 1960s began with a period of heightened expectations that social inequalities could be eradicated and the world significantly improved. By the end of the decade, America was noticeably divided across a range of cross-cutting loyalties, generational, racial, sexual, gender, escapist, conformist, traditional and radical. Many protestors had become frustrated by the perceived failures of previous campaigns and increasingly referred to American atrocities in the past, most notably slavery. Nor was the radical opposition solely concentrated upon right-wing targets. Liberalism was also strongly associated with problems that American society was thought to be facing. The Vietnam war, US foreign policy, cultural imperialism and failures to address institutional causes of racism while in government were also associated with liberal politics and institutions (Varon, 2004). And like their West German and Japanese peers in particular, the Weather emerged at a time of national economic expansion, growing levels of affluence and consumerism, and employment opportunities. But this generation of ‘baby boomers’ was part of wider levels of international consciousness that was also confronting the past, the legacy of the Second World War, the potential of nuclear weapons and living throughout their most formative stages under the shadow of the Cold War. Across these societies, there was a noticeable crisis of confidence within the younger generations about established political arrangements, and the abilities and desire to resolve perceived problems of older generations, who instead were increasingly associated with a new type of fascism. Against a backdrop of these factors and rising political violence, the killing of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy, rioting, increasing prominence of black militancy through the actions of the Black Panthers and the offensive against the Viet Cong, members within the SDS began to reassess the validity of peaceful protest. Their tactics became intensified towards direct action, confrontation and violence. A position statement, from Bob Dylan’s song Subterranean Homesick Blues, ‘You Don’t Need a Weatherman to Know Which Way the Wind Blows’ was adopted and the ‘Weathermen’ adopted an approach that synthesised politics and terrorism. As part of this approach, the group mentioned ‘turning New York into Saigon’ (Braungart and Braungart, 1992: 46). The Weather, as the group became known, aimed, as their slogan between 1969 and 1970 declared, to ‘bring the war home’, to mobilise popular opposition to the American offensive in Vietnam. A range of actions had failed to bring about significant change, or mobilise widespread support. And when in 1970 an accidental explosion killed three members and brought their bomb-making to the further attention of law enforcement agencies, the group began to operate clandestinely. Urban guerrilla consciousness became prominent and the group formally became the Weather Underground (Gitlin, 1987; Jacobs, 1997; Sprinzak, 1998). Vietnam was clearly a central component of the Weather’s doctrine of antiimperialism and internationalism as it sought to address global inequality. Considerable emphasis was also placed upon rights with the black ‘community’, considered to be a colony within the United States. Vociferous support was provided for the Black Panthers, although it was frequently not accepted unequivocally. Other components of the group’s ideology connected to the broader ‘New Left’, gender

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equality and mobilising American black and white working class support. Within a communist ideology, the group sought, as their publication, Prairie Fire, outlined in 1974, to ‘disrupt the [American] empire, to incapacitate it, to put pressure on the cracks, to make it hard to carry out its bloody functioning against the people of the world, to join the world struggle, to attack from inside’. Members of the Weather came from a range of backgrounds but were generally from affluent backgrounds, attending or had attended the most prestigious American colleges and universities. Other members originated from more humble surroundings but still shared the group’s quandary in reconciling their ideologies and emphasis upon exploitation, poverty, sexism and racism with their positions of (relative) affluence and privilege. It is certainly possible, as Braungart and Braungart (1992: 61) remark, that the members’ ‘attempt to reduce this tension was by linking their individual lives to revolutionary politics’. By moving so markedly away from their middle class roots, the radicals hoped to emphasise their commitment to action and in the process activate working class youths. Again, similarities with their West European and Japanese peers can be noticed in the socialisation processes which contributed to the radicalisation of Weather members. For many people, joining the Weather was part of a gradual process of radicalisation, with members like Bernardine Dohrn, David Gilbert and Robert Roth progressing from involvement in civil rights onto protests against racism and American foreign policy and into militancy (Varon, 2004). Some members, like Naomi Jaffe, originated from far left families (ibid), and consequently had less ideological distance to travel to become radicalised. Group discourse sought to provide the legitimacy for radicalism and the beliefs and actions of individuals, which in turn contributed to further militancy within the collectivity. Recruitment seems to have been undertaken informally through personal friendships and networks, with a range of people attracted including college and high school students, divorcees, college drop-outs and Vietnam veterans (Alpert, 1981; Jacobs, 1997; Stern, 1975). People became part of the Weather for similar reasons to the other ‘New Left’ groups, a sense of solidarity, comradeship, sensation of belonging and feelings of excitement. Once people joined, other loyalties were expected to be subordinated to the group and they were expected to adopt behaviour, attitudes and values that were commonplace. For many people, radicalisation to the Weather’s level therefore occurred after they had joined the group (Braungart and Braungart, 1992). The media was also an important source of information, with a multitude of left-wing newspapers, music channels, books and plays important outlets for political discourse. Pressures within the group and the explicit attention placed upon the collectivity were at the expense of the individual. Sessions of self and collective criticism and an open drug and sexual culture designed to challenge bourgeois behaviour helped intensify group relationships, weaken individual consciousness and further contributed to a sense of isolationalism. In turn, this led to distantiation from the black groups and working classes they claimed to represent (Sprinzak, 1998). Processes of radicalisation were also affected by particular events. Vietnam has been frequently referred to as an instigating factor in the processes. For instance, Diana Oughton and Ted Gold, who were both killed in the accidental bombing in 1970, and Bill Ayers were influenced in their decisions to take more militant actions


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by the continuing war in Vietnam (Ayers, 2003; Jacobs, 1997). Other issues included police brutality during student demonstrations, perceived worsening conditions for black groups, the deteriorating political situation, martyrdom of the three founder members in the 1970 accident and of unarmed protestor James Rector during a confrontation with police, and the death of 39 men following the end of a siege at Attica State Penitentiary (Jacobs, 1997; Varon, 2004). David Gilbert suggested that the killing of two Black Panthers, including the influential Fred Hampton, by the police was the event ‘more than any other factor that compelled us to take up armed struggle’ (reported in Varon, 2004: 156). Summary The Weather Underground shared a number of characteristics with Italian, German and Japanese ‘red’ groups. They emerged out of a broader movement, were disillusioned with peaceful methods of political participation and shared ideologies. Individuals had similar motivations when deciding to join and tactically there was an emphasis on the role of the vanguard as a method of mobilising popular support. Members in American and West German groups also shared similar socialising processes, with many originating from middle class backgrounds and becoming radicalised within groups and through exposure to events. The Weather was much more reserved in the use of violence and, with the exception of the Middle Eastern-based Japanese Red Army, was the most international of the groups. Unsurprisingly, the Weather had greater focus on the war in Vietnam as part of the wider protest against American imperialism. Yet the group was never able to translate widespread anger over the war into large-scale mobilisation for militancy. Limited support dissipated with the end of the Vietnam War, the narrowing of divisions within American society and politics and the increase in apolitical culture and cynicism. It can be argued that the subsequent implementation of policies that the left-wing movement advocated has contributed to the next stage of American terrorism: the post 1960s emergence of patriot militia and racialist groups. Patriot Militia and Christian Patriot Movement Patriot and racialist groups within America first attracted widespread attention with the bombing of a federal building in Oklahoma by Timothy McVeigh in 1995 which killed 168 people. Although McVeigh is not considered to have been part of a militia group, he was part of the wider movement, sharing discourse, attitudes and behavioural patterns. The selective sharing of ideas and practices and lack of formal ties between McVeigh and militia groups, or unofficial citizens’ armies, is reflective of the loose, fluid interrelationships that exist within the movement and makes distinct classifications difficult. As Van Dyke and Soule (2002: 502) stress: to separate the patriot/militia movement from other conservative organizations is difficult, as members of different right-wing organizations sometimes work together or attend conferences and rallies together … On top of this, patriot/militia ideology reflects multiple


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themes from other conservative organizations and movements (e.g. confrontational antiabortion, pro-gun, white racist, far right libertarian, and so on).

Estimates about the number of members of militias and Christian Identity, arguably the two largest, frequently interchangeable, strands within the movement, vary. In part, this is because the secretive nature of individuals’ involvement obstructs accessible information and many members belong to more than one group. By 1996, there were at least 858 militia-related groups with an estimated membership between 25,000 and 50,000 people. The number of members belonging to Christian Identity churches, study groups and political organisations ranged from 2,000 to 50,000.1 There is, however, general agreement that the number of militias was most prominent in several midwestern and western states and support rose dramatically between 1993 and 1996. Perceptions were drawn that the government was corrupt, threatening individual freedoms that needed protecting in a manner that recalled the role of citizen soldiers during the American Revolution. The diverse spectrum of issues promoted by the groups and events that have contributed to broader support undermine the belief that materialism was the driving motivation behind the movement. In this chapter, the broader movement is examined because it is argued that the reasons for the wider atmosphere of radicalisation help to explain the formation of both groups and individuals who have emerged from within to undertake violent activity. By examining the social context and role of particular agents and experiences, it is argued that a more comprehensive understanding of the growth of the far right, and its ongoing potential threat, can be understood. History of the Far Right Far right political discourse within America has a number of antecedents and, as Petrosino (1999: 26) observes, could even be traced to the origins of white colonisation: ‘Colonial America linked Christianity to racial purity or Whiteness and heathenism with racial impurity or non-Whiteness … racial superiority permeated American culture to the point where being American was synonymous with being White.’ When those perceptions began to be challenged, predecessors of the contemporary movement formed, beginning with the Order of the Star-Spangled Banner, who were to become better known as the ‘Know-Nothings’ due to their pledge to secrecy. The Know-Nothings formed out of nativism that stressed the rights of native-born white citizens. Bennett (1995) identifies their role in raising perceptions of ‘real’ American culture and the idealised impression of the country that ostracised ‘un-American’ behaviour and non-Protestant immigrants, in particular the Irish Americans who were at that period the largest in-migrant minority in the country. Changing patterns of immigration resulted in racist targets shifting to Jews and Italians in particular (Bennett, 1995; Kronenwetter, 1992; Sonder, 2000). In 1865 the Ku Klux Klan (KKK) formed, developing a blend of racism, patriotism, religion and ritualism in a populist combination that attracted extensive support during different periods. For instance, its early popularity was based upon resentment following defeat 1

Discussed in Barkun (1997), Crothers (2002) and Hoffman (2006).

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in the Civil War, and the subsequent freeing of slaves and control of the South by the Northern-dominated federal government. The KKK declared its primary objective to be the ‘maintenance of the supremacy of the White Race in this Republic’,2 and used terror through arson, whippings, torture, mutilations and lynchings to try to achieve this. Following a political compromise in 1876, protection for blacks in the South was effectively ended and states introduced policies that resulted in the legally enforced segregation of blacks and whites. As a consequence, the purpose of the KKK was significantly undermined until 1915 when the organisation underwent a revival. Through emphasising ‘Americanism’ and ‘Christian Civilization’ and opposing ‘alien’ groups and cultures, the KKK was positioned as the defender of the ‘American way of life’, meaning ‘Anglo-Saxon civilization’. This approach quickly attracted considerable support across the country because it connected with the experiences and concerns of communities. These people had faced crises within farming, creating tremendous financial difficulties for farmers, agricultural workers and related businesses, or were fearful about the impact of large-scale immigration into cities and the subsequent loss of jobs for whites and dilution of American culture. Membership reached a peak of five million in 1925, but this quickly diminished to an estimated 35,000 by 1930, following a scandal involving one of the main leaders (Kronenwetter, 1992). The second revival of the KKK happened during the 1960s in reaction to the emergence of the civil rights movement and associated challenges to segregation, the imposition of integrated education and opposition to egalitarian reforms. Membership of the KKK rose, although to a much lower estimate of 55,000 (Landau, 1993). Terror tactics were applied to try to scare black people, white activists and their supporters from pursuing civil rights and to deter the federal government from pushing through the reforms. However, the excessive use of violence and the multitude of gruesome killings caused public revulsion and led to a congressional investigation into the KKK (Kronenwetter, 1992; Landau, 1993). The investigation exposed terror activities and financial irregularities because, as in the 1920s, leading members were benefiting financially. As a consequence of criminal prosecutions and profiteering, the KKK again lost influence, which it has not recovered. Consequently, the KKK has not benefited significantly from the recent resurgence in far right politics. Instead, more modern, and less anachronistic, groups have emerged. These include, from 1958, the ultra-conservative but non-violent John Birch Society, initially to challenge the rise of communism, and groups like the Minutemen during the 1960s, the Posse Comitatus from the mid 1970s and The Order, or Silent Brotherhood, in the early 1980s. During this period, some racist politicians and the adaptation of patriot and far right rhetoric within the Republican Party have been publicly mainstreamed.3 Collectively, these 2 Quoted in Kronenwetter (1992: 25). 3 Electoral politicians such as George Wallace during the 1960s and early 1970s, David Duke in the 1980s and 1990s and to a lesser extent ‘Christian Right’ politicians such as Pat Robertson and nationalist ultra-conservatives such as Pat Buchanan have attracted reasonable levels of democratic support and contributed to racism and patriotism becoming further entrenched within American populist politics. Utilising the racial divide for political gain has also been noticeable within recent presidential campaigns by Ronald Reagan and George


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individuals and groups have contributed to a climate of anti-government behaviour, and racialist and anti-Semitic rhetoric. Today there are militias, Christian Patriot and neo-Nazi paramilitaries or a combination thereof. Bennett (1995: 429) describes the movement as a: shifting mixture of survivalist loners and self-styled constitutional experts preaching against federal tyranny, of neo-Nazi theorists and Christian Identity ministers, of young white-supremacist toughs and their adult mentors, of fragmentary Klan chapters and fierce tax resisters, of angry travellers on the gun-show circuit and manipulators of the far-Right radio, video and Internet world.

The Movement’s Ideologies and Motivations Unsurprisingly, such a multitude of groups and influences mean that the movement is far from united, with divisions over the emphasis on religion, racism, antiSemitism, Islamophobia, levels of cooperation with federal government, tactics, the use of violence,4 separatism and personality clashes. But the groups share disenchantments with mainstream political parties and politicians. Mainstream institutes and representatives are considered to be disconnected from the interests of ‘real’ Americans. Frequently reference is drawn to the Constitution and the idea of a ‘land of the free, the home of the brave’ in support of their points. In many instances, groups argue that the Constitution is being subverted by the government or question the validity of a number of constitutional amendments. This is particularly noticeable for laws that guarantee full citizenship for everyone born or naturalised in the US and provide civil rights for minorities (Bushart, Craig and Barnes, 1998; Sonder, 2000). The changes are widely considered to threaten the inalienable rights of white Americans. Groups share a number of similar beliefs, including patriotism and the love of country, concern over federal government corruption and the lack of protection for individuals. They are opposed to increasing restraints upon individualism and threats to basic freedoms as part of greater control for federal government and the role of the United States within international relations (Crothers, 2002; Hoffman, 2006; Sonder, 2000; Telfair Sharpe, 2000; Van Dyke and Soule, 2002). These similarities are sufficiently widely held to enable the groups to be classified as belonging to a broad movement. Groups that are more inclined towards militancy are, to varying degrees, opposed to the possibilities of a ‘New World Order’ taking over American sovereignty, anti-gun legislation, and they seek to protect the Constitution from government encroachment, to ‘wake up’ Americans to what is happening to the country (Mulloy, 2004) and prepare for conflict through military training and/or survivalist Bush, both Senior and Junior. For example, Diamond (1995) and Guillory (1992) have focused on the way that George Bush Senior played on white fears about black rapists and murderers, affirmative action and job losses. Some commentators have also referred to the reluctance of Reagan and Bush Senior to enforce existing civil rights laws (discussed in Landau, 1993). 4 Most militias tend to consider violence only to be legitimate when used for ‘defensive’ purposes, and there was widespread condemnation of the Oklahoma bombing (Karl, 1995).

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arrangements. Many members are armed, but their commitment is mostly restricted to activities like survival training, target practice, recruitment, rallies and marching. However, they are willing to take up arms in defence5 of what they consider to be their inalienable rights in the tradition of the American Revolution. Some members’ beliefs are implemented into practice. They adopt different lifestyles, refusing to acknowledge national government, pay taxes or use a social security number, destroying marriage licences and birth certificates, driving without legal licence plates or driver’s licence and living ‘off the grid’ independently without connection to water, gas and electricity. The majority of groups hold right-wing Christian values, most notably associated with the Christian Identity movement that many militias and racialist groups like the Aryan Nations subscribe to. Christian Identity is heavily influenced by the Puritanism that was established by early settlers and Anglo-Israelism movement. Anglo-Israelism emerged in Britain during the mid-nineteenth century and adherents argued that the lost tribes of Israel were Anglo-Saxon. This interpretation was used to promote the ‘divine right [of Anglo-Saxons] to dominate and colonize the world’ (Zeskind, 1986: 19). In other words, these Christians viewed themselves as the ‘chosen people’. Within the United States, Anglo-Israelism has been adopted to provide theological justification for white supremacy, and by extension racism and in particular anti-Semitism (Bushart, Craig and Barnes, 1998; Dobratz and ShanksMeile, 2000; Hoffman, 2006; Telfair Sharpe, 2000). For these Christians, religion provides the interpretative lens through which to view American society and inspires political activism. Racialism and anti-Semitism are prominent across the broad movement, although not universal. There are, for example, some black members within militia groups (Karl, 1995), but these are exceptions. Berlot and Lyons (2000: 296) suggest that extreme views are ‘woven into Patriot narrative, but in many cases it is unconscious and unintentional. In other cases far right activists hide their … views to recruit from, or take over, Patriot and militia groups.’ And as Dees (1996) notes, many groups downplay racism and anti-Semitism to try to appeal to a wider audience who may be deterred from associating with an obviously radical ideology. Instead, there is a concentration upon people’s concerns and sources of anger such as taxation, interest rates, regulation of individual rights, immigration, international affairs, affirmative action, rising crime and drug use. Discussions about these factors often identify the benefactors of reforms and causal agents for high bank charges, government policies, loss of jobs, murder rates, and so on, namely Jews, blacks and immigrants. In other words, prejudice within America has become subtler, and the focus on biological differences has shifted to government programmes that are seen to favour minority groups and enforce integration (Schuman, Steeh and Bobo, 1985; Kluegel and Bobo, 1993). Other groups are more overtly racist, arguing that racism is an innate instinct that cannot be eradicated. Consequently, rather than trying to enforce integration, attention should be placed upon separation and ensuring the purity of the white race (Bushart, Craig and Barnes, 1998).

5 John Trochmann, co-founder of the largest, influential Militia of Montana, describes the militia as being ‘like a giant neighborhood watch’ (quoted in Karl, 1995: 8).


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For many members, anti-Semitism and sedition have become openly interwoven, notably in the long-standing belief about the role of Zionist Occupational Government (or ZOG). This is considered to be a Jewish organised conspiracy that controls the United Nations, US federal government, financial systems and media. The groups can generally be seen to represent, in different combinations, a mixture of Christianity, sedition, racialism and anti-Semitism. Gallagher (1997: 76) comments that ‘the uses of religion on the contemporary far right to legitimize racism, anti-Semitism, tax-resistance, other anti-government actions and even terror violence shows that religion is widely accepted as a powerful legitimating force’. Gordon Kahl, one of the first martyrs of the contemporary far right, exemplifies the interweaving of religion within militancy when remarking, ‘we are engaged in a struggle to the death between the people of the kingdom of God and the kingdom of Satan’ (quoted in Corcoran, 1995: 153). And this sacralisation of politics contributes to absolutism within the movement. Idealised transcendence and emphasis on the mythical past provide behavioural and attitudinal parameters that prohibit compromise or negotiation. The All-American Context To understand why people joined the newly formed groups during the 1980s and 1990s, it is essential to gain an insight into the societal transformations that were occurring at that time. Crothers (2002: 230) points out that ‘globalization and economies of scale increasingly led to the transformation of the American farming industry from family- to corporate-owned enterprises. This, in turn, led many family farmers to search for explanations for their loss: militia and similar groups provided answers.’ Freilich and Pridemore’s (2005) research discovered that militia groups were more numerous in states that had experienced higher levels of farm job losses. However, the appeal of far right groups is not restricted to the rural poor or indeed the poor generally. Tapia (2000: 315) identifies that militia and patriot members in New Mexico ‘were not economically deprived’. This is supported by Freilich’s (2003) study which discovered that social and economic factors were not related to the number of groups. However, other studies6 have emphasised that there is a relationship between economic deprivation and the growth of the militia movement. Disagreement about the generic trends is likely to be a consequence of the diverse range of supporters that prevents over-generalisation. For example, urban working class support has been long recognised, but today there is a growing realisation about the involvement of people from the middle class within both rural and urban areas. Many of these people have had different experiences from working class members. However, they have also been adversely affected by deteriorating income levels and reduced employment opportunities. This is happening at a time when many have encountered competition for jobs from blacks who had previously been concentrated within working class occupations (Berlot and Lyons, 2000; Ezekiel, 1995; Wellman,

6 For example, see Churchill (2001) and Van Dyke and Soule (2002) for further details.

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1993). The American manufacturing base has also been severely reduced by competition from developing nations, when immigration into the United States from many of those countries occurred throughout the 1970s and 1980s. Immigration from South and Southeast Asia and Central America has contributed to the resentment felt by many white Americans (Gibson, 1994), whose contact with the migrants is often infrequent. Impressions7 about other ethnic groups have been further ignited by perceptions of ‘preferential treatment’ that many whites consider applies for minorities. Sniderman and Piazza (1993: 112) suggest that ‘preferential treatment excites resentment and anger that other issues of race do not’. The growth of the movement in the midst of the Clinton presidency connects with the greater emphasis upon inclusion for racial, ethnic, gender and sexual groups and the prominence of Afro-Americans, Jews, Hispanics and women within the administration (Singular, 2001) which, when allied to Clinton’s sexual indiscretions, further fuelled the anger and resentment many were feeling. It is important, therefore, to avoid overemphasising materialist motivations. For instance, Bob Martin, a member of Aryan Nations, in discussion with Dobratz and Shanks-Meile (2000: 24), reflects a diverse rationale for belonging to the movement. The factors that influenced his involvement, included the economic situation: ‘a lot of anti-white legislation’ and ‘how unfair whites were being treated’ in employment and schools. At school, he ‘was made to be submissive or subject to the majority [blacks]. I knew that wasn’t right … I also watched the city that I grew up in go from the shopping centre of the county … to a slide down into the slums as the blacks became more powerful and had more babies.’ The range of support is reflected in Dobratz and Shanks-Meile’s (2000: 27) research which found that ‘the movement tends to be working class but also cuts across classes considerably’.8 This is supported by earlier studies9 of the KKK that identified working class, middle class, professional and intelligentsia members and the socio-economic backgrounds of some influential members of the broader movement. For example, William Pierce was formerly a college physics professor, Verne Jay Merrell10 had been employed as a nuclear engineer (Bushart, Craig and Barnes, 1998) and Richard Butler11 was previously an aerospace engineer. Concentrating upon materialist factors neglects this wider appeal of groups and the significance of non-materialist factors that are also central to the mobilisation of far right support; for example, legislation to restrict hunting and rural land usage that was seen to threaten the lifestyles of millions of people and challenged their perceptions of the American ‘way of life’. In order to understand the breadth of the movement, there is therefore a requirement 7 See, for example, Miller et al.’s (1993) study into perceptions of government, blacks and prejudice, reported in Dobratz and Shanks-Meile (2000). 8 Dobratz and Shanks-Meile (2000: 269) found that a third of respondents belonged to the middle class. 9 For further details, see Goldberg (1991), Mintz (1985), Moore (1991) and Vander Zanden (1960). 10 Merrell was an Identity Christian who was convicted of conspiracy, theft and possession. 11 Butler was a central figure within Aryan Nations and the wider racialist network until his death in 2004.


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to examine the context of perceived cultural, economic and political threats12 that contributed to feelings of alienation and particular events having deep resonance within sections of the American population that intensified opposition and resulted in acts of terrorism. The Far Right and Violence Groups on the extreme of the movement’s spectrum are willing to use violence and have collected vast armouries of weapons, including pistols, rifles, machine guns, grenades, fuses, blasting caps and explosive substances. The majority stress that violence is only used as a form of resistance to challenges to the national Constitution, American culture or individual freedoms. In other words, the groups consider themselves to be defensive, reacting to government and international actions. However, this justification is used by militants across the world and much hinges on the definition of defensive behaviour. Thus, American militants debate the extent to which reactivism extends beyond the defence of territory to include attacks against the government, its institutions, representatives or anyone seen to threaten their way of life. This ambiguity has contributed to many individuals undertaking aggressive actions like sabotage, violent assault, armed robbery, shooting and bombing in the name of defence. And as Frielich, Pichardo-Almanzar and Rivera (1999) note with respect to the militias, the ideologies espoused can inspire political criminal behaviour and domestic terrorism. Encouragement to break the law in order to further the movement is prominent, ranging from tax evasion, illegal gun sales and land use violations to terror attacks on government institutions and individuals. Leading figures within the extreme of the movement have sought to provide inspiration for (counter) terror activities. For instance, Louis Beam argues that ‘if federal terrorism goes unchallenged, then no one is safe. Government terrorism, if ignored, does not go away, but gets worse.’13 William Pierce, founder of the National Alliance and author of The Turner Diaries (discussed below), developed this theme in the wake of the Oklahoma bombing, arguing that ‘when a government engages in terrorism against its own citizens, it should not be surprised when some of those citizens strike back and engage in terrorism against the government’.14 He has also claimed that ‘we are engaged in the most desperate war we have ever fought … a war for the survival of our [white] race. Ultimately we cannot win it except by killing our enemies.’15 Consequently, within the movement, theological and ideological justification for illegal activities is espoused to challenge conditions that are seen to legitimise such action. As part of these broader and multifarious processes, some members and associates have become further radicalised and acts of terrorism have been committed. 12 For example, Dees (1996) argues that militia groups have tended to be more successful when recruiting middle and working class members who feel economically and politically threatened. 13 Quoted in Dees (1996: 45). 14 Quoted in Dees (1996: 176). 15 Quoted in Dees (1996: 118).


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Processes of Radicalisation Images of the American Revolution, the role of armed citizens, individual freedoms as part of a culture immersed in individualism, and Christian and white supremacy are prominent within American society generally and the far right movement in particular. As Mulloy (2004) has noted with respect to the militias, identifying the use of history and the values associated with the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution and the Bill of Rights are central to understanding groups’ societal and worldviews. Large numbers of people exposed to these interpretations may become part of the movement but do not become involved in political violence. Some members, however, undergo a process of further radicalisation that results in them becoming convinced that only violence will awaken the rest of white America to challenge government actions and Zionist conspiracies. These members have often belonged to militias and racialist groups or part of the broader movement. They progress from holding racist, anti-Zionist and anti-government views to undertaking actions to change the situation. For example, Kronenwetter (1992) details how two of the leading ‘martyrs’, Bob Mathews of The Order (discussed below) and Gordon Kahl of the Posse Comitatus, belonged to the John Birch Society before developing more radical views. Mathews and another member of The Order, Ardie McBrearty, were also part of the tax protest movement (Levitas, 2002). Timothy McVeigh’s opposition to tax levels was also noticeable during his radicalisation. In some respects this is unsurprising. Within the movement, prominent leaders and groups regularly promote and legitimise criminal behaviour like tax evasion, gun crimes and, in particular, the use of violence through various socialising agencies. When these messages are allied to interpretations of American history that are also advanced to justify the use of arms when the legacy is under threat, then a climate is created in which people become radicalised, in some instances unintentionally. It is within these contexts, therefore, that people interpret particular events that contribute to their processes of radicalisation. The individual and collective identities of people who undertake violent activities on behalf of groups or far right ideologies have tended to be influenced by similar factors to those that attract people to the wider movement discussed earlier. Support for the militia and racialist movement has also been influenced by deteriorating economic conditions (particularly in communities reliant upon manufacturing), rising cheap foreign labour and produce, downsizing, relocations and job insecurity.16 Kronenwetter (1992: 86) alludes to the recruitment of ‘people who are desperate and lonely. They [far right groups] like to reach them when they are particularly vulnerable’, feel victimized and are susceptible to campaigns that identify scapegoats for their woes. However, in a manner similar to the preceding discussion about broader support across failing agricultural and manufacturing bases, there is a danger of over-concentrating upon reductionist explanations about people who are considered to be lonely, consumed by self-hatred or emotionally and economically deprived. Certainly, many people have become radicalised as a consequence of deteriorating economic conditions, but many more people encounter 16 For further details, see Dees (1996) and Sonder (2000).


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the same financial constraints and uncertainties but do not join far right groups. Nor does the chronology of events always neatly follow the commentary. For instance, the economic crisis of the 1980s did not immediately result in a large-scale increase in militia, which occurred during the early 1990s. To reiterate though, this is not to ignore, as Van Dyke and Soule’s (2002) study shows, a correlation between the decline in manufacturing and farming opportunities and the number of militia groups within regions. Instead this suggests greater attention needs to be placed upon the factors that contribute to the relationship, including histories of violent protest within the respective areas, and the impact of new rules for land usage, hunting restrictions, threatened gun laws, and so on. Descriptions of convicted ‘terrorists’, like McVeigh and Mathews, by former friends, family, colleagues and neighbours as decent, ordinary people are also overlooked in the tendency to dehumanise the perpetrators. For example, in the aftermath of the Oklahoma attack, Michel and Herbeck (2001: xii) discovered that neighbours of his family home were unable to believe that ‘the quiet, polite, unassuming Tim McVeigh could have had anything to do with a terror bombing’, while a court witness described him as ‘a warm, decent, friendly person’ (ibid: 346). Considerable attention has been placed upon McVeigh’s lack of remorse for the attack and from this, people have inferred that he gained pleasure from the act. However, Michel and Herbeck (2001) report that Dr John Smith, a psychiatrist, who examined McVeigh following his arrest, found that while he was able to discuss the bombing coldly and rationally, there was no evidence that he felt pleasure in the attack. Instead, Smith noticed that the attack was viewed simply as an action that needed to be undertaken in order to change the American government. The movement’s broader support base across a range of people who have different socio-economic backgrounds, experiences and abilities indicates that many members are not motivated by materialist factors, nor are they encountering deep personal problems. Instead it is possible to notice a defence of an American way of life and the preservation of heritage, even amongst the groups who are primarily seen to be playing war games and enjoy the symbols, appearance and authority that their involvement is considered to bring to them. Within the context of this reference framework, recent events are interpreted and in some instances contribute to the radicalisation of individuals into violent militancy. Vietnam has been frequently cited in the reasons behind people joining left-wing militant groups in the late 1960s and 1970s. Conversely, it has also been a factor in the mobilisation of people to the far right. As Dees (1996: 75) comments, the war ‘left millions angry at government and unsure of America’s role in the world’. The outcome of the war, desired by the ‘red’ groups, left many other Americans perturbed by the undermining of the country’s perceived superiority. And the justification for wars that were not directly in defence of United States’ interests and the nature of international politics were questioned. This contributed to some Americans looking more inwardly, defending their interests rather than those of other nations who were to become increasingly viewed as part of an international conspiracy. A number of events have also been more explicitly linked to the growth of militancy and contributed to the radicalisation of people who subsequently undertook terror activity. One of the most influential was what has become known as the Ruby

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Ridge incident, involving the Weaver family and federal agents. This event was to provide legitimacy for concerns about the intentions of the American government against individual freedoms. The Weaver family were part of far right Christian movements and had chosen to live in a remote setting in Idaho. In 1992, Randy Weaver, the father, supplied an undercover government official from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms with an illegal gun and was arrested. After refusing to work undercover for the Bureau, he was arrested and released on bail. Weaver subsequently failed to appear in court. When the federal marshals came to serve the warrant for Weaver’s arrest, a gun fight ensued which resulted in the death of his son, his dog and a US Deputy Marshall. After refusing to surrender, Weaver and Kevin Harris, a friend, were shot and his wife killed. After several days, the family surrendered. Both Weaver and Harris were tried for numerous crimes, but Weaver was only convicted for failure to appear in court for an offence that was subsequently dismissed as entrapment. While the federal government did not admit any wrongdoing, in 1996 the remaining members of the Weaver family were awarded a settlement of $3 million. For the militia and patriot movement, the incident became a tremendous mobilising event that was recognised as the ‘first real catalyst in the birth of today’s militia movement’ (Sonder 2000: 45) and brought together a range of militants with different, often conflicting, perspectives. John Bargerter, a member of the Army of Israel group, is indicative of many within the movement, when he told Dobratz and Shanks-Meile (2000: 207) that until that point he had not understood: the kind of fight we were up against – the kind of people we were dealing with and how true it really was that our government was corrupt to the point of no return. That [the incident] changed my life completely … That changed the whole movement when Gordon Kahl got murdered and Robert Mathews. But see, those were men that got killed. That’s expected … But when a woman and child got killed, that changed everybody’s way of thinking.

In addition to the Ruby Ridge standoff, the militia movement was also energised by the attack in 1993 by federal agents that resulted in the Branch Davidian compound in Waco, Texas catching fire. Seventy-six group members were killed, including 17 children aged under eight years old who became martyrs within the far right movement (Crothers, 2002; Karl, 1995; Levitas, 2002). Again, the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms was involved and, as at Ruby Ridge, the conflict was instigated when attempting to serve a warrant. In this instance, the warrant was to be served against the Branch Davidian sect, an offshoot of the Seventh-Day Adventist Church, led by Vernon Dean Howell, who changed his name to David Koresh in 1991. Koresh believed he had a divine mission that offered salvation to followers at a time when the world was prophesied to end. The sect also began collecting large quantities of weapons and ammunition and came to the attention of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, who decided to arrest Koresh on gun charges (Levitas, 2002). After being tipped off about the warrant, the sect prepared for the initial raid, which resulted in a gun fight and the death of four federal agents and several Davidians. A second federal attack followed nearly two months later and resulted in the fatal fire, attracting considerable publicity.


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Following so quickly after Ruby Ridge, the attack at Waco created tremendous consternation. Sections of the movement, who did not necessarily agree with the Davidian’s religious interpretations or lifestyle, were further radicalised by what they considered to be more evidence of the government’s intention to disarm people, and distantiation from citizens’ constitutional rights (Berlot and Lyons, 2000). As militia member Brad Alpert told Karl (1995: 32): ‘The Waco siege really did it for me. The Feds came after these people to get their guns. Who would be next? I knew there was something deeply wrong in America.’ This concern about gun control was further heightened by the Brady Bill17 which was passed in 1993 and became effective in 1994 (Karl, 1995; Levitas, 2002). Some semi-automatic guns were to be banned shortly afterwards. Collectively, these changes were viewed by many Americans, including the National Rifle Association, who had not previously reacted significantly to the two preceding incidents, to be further signs of the government’s desire to ban private ownership of weapons and bureaucratic restraints upon individual liberties. These restrictions had to a certain extent been prophesied by both Louis Beam and William Pierce, and the fulfilment of the prophecies added credibility to their radical views (Dees, 1996). It is important to contextualise the centrality of weapons, and guns in particular. For many Americans argue, as Crothers (2002: 228) reports, ‘that US law gives them the right to organize, purchase and use firearms, and enforce the law against agents who behave unconstitutionally’. The use of guns is viewed therefore as a constitutional right that can be traced to the nation’s foundation and the role of citizen armies. Consequently, to take away or threaten that right is viewed as a challenge against the individual, the Constitution and the legacy of the American Revolution. And, as Crothers (2002) also notes, the threat to gun ownership needs to be considered alongside the growing fear amongst far right groups about the New World Order: without weapons, ordinary citizens would be unable to defend themselves or the Constitution against the international threat within the country. Socialising Militants Within the movement, there is considerable emphasis placed upon recruitment through socialisation and the spread of racialist, anti-Semitic, anti-government, progun and individual freedom messages. Barkun (1997) points out that in the 1990s, the movement was being led by a third generation who had been influenced by their predecessors and were younger, ‘better educated, more polished and more adroit in shaping their messages to a sceptical audience’. Use of the media is particularly noticeable, with the need for independent methods of communication inspired by the widespread belief that the mainstream media is controlled by Jews. The mainstream media reports on group activities and individuals but is considered opposed to far right ideologies and driven by pro-government and Zionist interests. Groups

17 The Bill imposed a five-day waiting period for people buying handguns, and required enquiries into the purchaser’s background.

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use radio channels, with talk shows and so called ‘hate’ jocks prominent,18 cable stations, newsletters, educational seminars, websites and emails to initiate contact, provide information, maintain support, mobilise opposition and sell merchandise like publications, clothes and associated paraphernalia. These relatively new forms of communication, which the former leader of the Michigan militia, Norman Olsen, referred to as ‘alternative sources of news’, enable individuals within the same region and across the country to make contact with like-minded people, develop networks, express their opinions and attract support in an effective, fast and expansive manner that is difficult to control and was not possible for previous generations. Such methods of communication have contributed to ‘a phenomenon of informed Americans now waking up’ (Olsen, quoted during his testimony before the Senate Subcommittee on the Judiciary, 1995: 108). This emphasis on ‘waking up Americans’ is found within a lot of far right publications and justification for actions. Today, supporters are able both to participate actively within groups or be ‘virtually’ involved within a passive, complicit capacity maintained through information technology (Bushart, Craig and Barnes, 1998; Crothers, 2002; Dobratz and Shanks-Meile, 2000; Mulloy, 2004). Recruitment also occurs through gun shows, training camps, rallies19 and churches associated with Christian Identity. Timothy McVeigh was one notable attendee at gun shows, where he often sold weapons. People attend these settings because they already subscribe to aspects of far right ideologies, namely interest in guns and/or racialist religion. Consequently, progression into the movement would be a gradual step and not a radical shift in individual consciousness. Singular (2001: 42) has argued that television evangelists, while being portrayed as sincere and decent people, have contributed to the climate of hatred through being ‘bitterly judgmental, exclusive, and divisive’. Prisons have also been targeted by racialist groups who look to recruit white inmates who may be attracted to extremist ideology that helps explain their predicament (Landau, 1993). This is exemplified by the Aryan Nations’ description of white convicts as ‘prisoners of war’ who are held by ZOG (Kronenwetter, 1992). During the 1990s, their approach was considered to have been fairly successful in attracting new support (Bushart, Craig and Barnes, 1998). Books, pamphlets, videos and DVDs are also popular methods of communicating and attracting support (Sonder, 2000). And a glance at some links within leading racialist groups’ websites identifies the prominence of white movement music, espousing racist lyrics. At present, the highest profiled group is Prussian Blue, a duet consisting of two teenage sisters. The most notorious book to be written within the movement is The Turner Diaries by William Pierce, under the pseudonym Andrew MacDonald (1985). The novel narrates a series of events, beginning with the criminalisation of the ownership of firearms and resulting in a race war that 18 Major concerns about the impact of talk shows were raised following the killing of the radio host, Alan Berg, by The Order. It is believed that the attack was a reaction to Berg’s denunciation of the racialist movement. Following the death of Berg, there is greater cognisance amongst both law enforcement agencies and far right groups about the potential effect that this provocative medium may have upon listeners. 19 Dobratz and Shanks-Meile (2000) point out that rallies are useful for attracting both support and media attention.


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ends in an all-white America. Details about how to assassinate government officials and leading personalities for propaganda purposes, and how to attack strategic government, industrial and commercial sites are included. Since publication, the book has sold over 200,000 copies and has been linked to the actions of both Bob Mathews and Timothy McVeigh, who was an enthusiastic supporter of the book (Flynn and Gerhardt, 1989; Gallagher, 1997; Hoffman, 2006; Levitas, 2002; Michel and Herbeck, 2001). Both were also influenced by newspaper coverage of crises in America, and McVeigh is also reported to have collected videotapes depicting the Waco tragedy (Serrano, 1998). The Oklahoma bombing has striking similarities to an account within the novel of an attack on a federal building by white supremacists and used a similar ammonium nitrate fertiliser and fuel oil mixture in a truck bomb. And extremists have tried to use the popular media to try to attract support or justify their actions. For example, in the aftermath of the attack, Michel and Herbeck (2001) highlight how McVeigh was concerned that he would not be given a fair hearing, and sought to use the media to try to explain his reasons for committing the attack. Although examples of parents being instrumental in the radicalisation of members of the current far right generation, and who committed acts of terrorism themselves, are limited, there is considerable evidence that the recruitment of a new generation, especially children, is pursued through a number of sources. Comics and children’s original stories and adaptations of classics, expressing segregation and attacking blacks, Jews and homosexuals, have been published by groups like National Vanguard, while recruitment campaigns are regularly directed at schools (Bushart, Craig and Barnes, 1998; Potok, 2006). The Aryan Nations, under the leadership of Richard Butler, established its own school for white children. In the school, children were taught the ‘four R’s: readin’, ritin’, rithmetic’, and race’ (Singular, 2001: 16). Families who choose to ‘live off the grid’ will often either teach their children themselves or will establish small learning centres with like-minded neighbours, rather than risk them being taught opposing views (Sonder, 2000). Instead, children are taught basic learning skills and their parents or wider network’s interpretations of history and American society. In other words, parents will seek to teach their children their own norms and values. Within American society more generally, children are taught about history that is embedded with stories that emphasise the violent roots of the nation, armed struggle by citizens, rebellion, the role of early white settlers and the significance of Christian religion, while the long-standing significance of multiculturalism is overlooked: aspects that the far right groups connect into. The role of peers has been instrumental within a range of different groups, commencing with the Posse Comitatus during the 1970s and 1980s. Informal networks of friendship have provided the framework for both recruitment and solidarity, attracting members both for ideological purposes and by the social bonds that exist within groups. Despite the vast amount of resources and impressive array of technologies utilised in the pursuit of attracting support, as Freilich and Pridemore (2005: 530) suggest, ‘the most effective recruitment technique is via informal social networks with friends recruiting friends’. And as with other militant groups, peers also provide deep social bondings. For instance, Juergensmeyer (2003a: 206) relates that the ‘friendship between Timothy McVeigh and Terry Nichols … was so tight and time-consuming that Nichols’ wife became jealous’. The importance of these

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socialising processes is noticeable in the most important examples of radicalisation within the movement, including McVeigh’s. Case Studies of Radicalisation The Order was the most prominent separatist group during the 1980s and achieved a high profile within the movement and notoriety amongst the wider population. Ideologically, the group was established to defend the white race and America, and was vehemently opposed to ZOG. Such a political stance was not unique; far right politics, while not widely popular, had remained within American communities. Unlike the majority of far right groups at that time, The Order moved beyond disseminating militant messages, survivalist training and stockpiling weapons to underground, violent activities. Between 1983 and 1985, they committed a variety of crimes including counterfeiting, conspiracy, armed robberies, arson, bombing and murder. A total of five people were killed. Plans were discovered that outlined the group’s intentions to extend their approach and sabotage dams, water supplies and communications which could have impacted upon millions of Americans (Flynn and Gerhardt, 1989). The proactive approach attracted considerable publicity and changed perceptions about the emerging militia movement. After being killed in a shootout with federal and state law enforcement officers in 1984, Bob Mathews, the group’s leader, became a martyr. Mathews’ background is illuminating in that he did not match the stereotypes for right-wing extremists. He was married with an adopted son, lived next door to his mother and had a mistress with whom he had a child shortly before his final actions. In many respects, he was an integral, respected member of the community. But despite having solid social relationships, a stable upbringing with non-racist parents and little exposure to guns, Mathews internalised militant ideologies and integrated patriotism, racism, religion and a willingness to use violence towards the creation of a ‘White American Bastion’ in the northwest. Mathews’ radicalisation was a gradual process. As Kronenwetter (1992) observes, Mathews was influenced around the ages of eleven and twelve by the John Birch Society and a fear of communism, and, by extension, international threats and conspiracies. Through informal associations, he shared views and experiences, and became interested in firearms and survivalism, which contributed to his move to Metaline Falls, Washington. He also began to read right-wing material, was influenced by the literature and tax protests of the Arizona patriot Marvin Cooley and was convicted for tax-related misdemeanour charges (Levitas, 2002). After being impressed by the National Alliance’s publications, he joined the organisation. At a time when Mathews became increasingly concerned about the role of the government and the impact of rising group consciousness and rights of blacks, women and gays, he thought other groups appeared inactive and ineffective. In order to safeguard the nation for America’s white children, whom he believed would be discriminated against, Mathews felt motivated to undertake actions (Flynn and Gerhardt, 1989). This emphasis on activism was reflected by Mathews in a speech to the National Alliance when he was a member:


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the fate of every last white man, woman and child on this planet lies squarely on the shoulders of us here in this room today … If months from now you have not yet fully committed yourself to the Alliance and the responsibilities thereof, then you have in effect not only betrayed your race, you have betrayed yourself. So, stand up like men! And drive the enemy into the sea! (quoted in Dees, 1996: 143).

Through local contacts and associations within the broader network, Mathews formed a group20 of like-minded people. Members were mobilised by a range of socialising agents like family, friends, religious organisations and work relationships found within the Christian Patriot movement. The group sought to confront Jewish international conspiracies and to address the deteriorating state of America. And while there were some members within the group who fit within the stereotype of embittered loners, dropouts or losers, the majority of people had ‘abandoned careers, families, and lives filled with promise to follow the cause’, and most ‘were lawabiding folk who, as their frustration with America’s course grew harder to handle, gradually, almost casually, slipped into the world of extremism’ (Flynn and Gerhardt, 1989: 6). Some of the men were described by neighbours as ‘likeable’ and ‘good workers’ (Aho, 1990: 66). These militants have been influential in the subsequent radicalisation of some members within the broader movement. For instance, George Hawthorne, a white separatist, told Dobratz and Shanks-Meile (2000: 186): I have the sacrifices of men like Robert Mathews, David Lane, Richard Scutari, and the rest of The Brüder Schweigen [translates as Silent Brotherhood] to remind myself that if they can give all they have given (and in the case of all, but Mathews, are still giving), I can certainly make comparably meagre sacrifices without complaining.

William Pierce explored the significance of Mathews’ actions within a National Alliance cassette (reported in Dobratz and Shanks-Meile, 2000), describing his commitment, strength and sacrifice for the white race. And while Pierce believed that Mathews and The Order’s campaign had been premature, he stressed the need for action, which can be seen to have been instrumental in mobilising radical opposition to the federal government and ethnic minorities. In the aftermath of Mathews’ death, The Order’s tactics were adopted by David John Moran, who had previously renounced his social security number and cancelled his bank account. Moran was also fundamentally opposed to the Internal Revenue Service (IRS). And in addition to the actions of Mathews, he was motivated to act by the arrest of Bill Gale and seven others on charges of conspiracy, attempting to interfere with federal tax laws and sending death threats to tax collectors. For Moran, ‘the arrests of William P. Gale and others by the agents of ZOG is the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back’ (quoted in Levitas, 2002: 285). Following a brief flurry of armed robberies, Moran was killed in 1986 in a shootout with the police. In 1998, members of a neoNazi group, the New Order, who modelled themselves on their predecessors, were convicted of planning to bomb numerous anti-racist organisations (Martin, 2003). 20 Twenty-four members were convicted in 1985 of a range of charges and sentenced to long prison terms.

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Until the 11 September 2001 attacks, an American, Timothy McVeigh, had committed the most deadly act of terrorism, the bombing of Oklahoma. McVeigh’s background also challenges popular stereotypes. His parents split up when he was 11, but there is no evidence to suggest that this played a fundamental part in his later actions. Indeed he strongly refuted such claims (Michel and Herbeck, 2001) and appears to have had a reasonable relationship with his father and was very close to his younger sister. He was particularly close to his paternal grandfather, Ed McVeigh, who was also instrumental in introducing his grandson to weapons at the age of 13.21 The introduction quickly developed into fascination and Timothy McVeigh became a voracious reader of gun magazines and related books. In these he came across many anti-government sentiments and concerns about the loss of gun rights. He was to become extremely well informed about types of weapons and their capabilities (Serrano, 1998), and began to practise survivalism, making preparations for attack and self-survival. Guns were central to this defence. McVeigh found an obvious outlet for his interest in guns when he joined the army. In the army, success was found in shooting competitions, and he was commended for his activities in the 1991 Gulf War. Experiences in the war were, however, to adversely affect him. He began to question the legitimacy of America fighting overseas, and in particular under the jurisdiction of the United Nations, which McVeigh increasingly viewed as a threat to American interests. After the war, McVeigh began training for the prestigious Green Berets. However, his time in the Persian Gulf had reduced his fitness levels and he had to withdraw. After returning to his previous post in the army, he failed to settle, became disenchanted with other soldiers and there were stories of racism (Michel and Herbeck, 2001). McVeigh also felt that the army had lied to him, both in his recruitment and when fighting in the Gulf. These factors contributed to his views becoming more anti-government. Following his discharge from the army, his interest in weapons remained. He began spending considerable amounts of time at gun shows, where he became associated with people from the patriot movement. Conspiracy theories were prominent at the shows and McVeigh’s anti-government views and concerns about restrictions on gun ownership were widely shared. Michel and Herbeck (2001) suggest that immersion within this environment contributed to McVeigh’s radicalisation from someone questioning the government to an activist who was vehemently opposed to it. His views were published in letters to local newspapers which indicate a growing hatred of tax levels, politicians, political correctness and the threat to the American Dream. The focus on political correctness connected to his racist views and, in light of his post-army inability to find a rewarding career, led him to consider that young white males were being discriminated against. At around this period, he also read more anti-government publications and drifted, staying with

21 Michel and Herbeck (2001) suggest that the death of Ed McVeigh freed his grandson from the constraints he would have felt had his grandfather still been alive. In particular, they feel that Timothy McVeigh had been concerned about the possible impact upon his grandfather of discovering that his grandson had committed such an attack.


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friends, including the Nichols brothers, Terry22 and James, whose anti-government views McVeigh increasingly shared. Travelling around provided further experiences which solidified his resentment of the federal government and the direction that American society was seen to be heading in. Like Mathews, McVeigh grew to believe that complaining about the government was inadequate. Nor would the defensive reaction of survivalism bring about change. People had to be willing to undertake violent activities that would force the government to re-examine policies and change views (Dees, 1996). McVeigh remained extremely interested in the US military and had become alarmed at the growing involvement with United Nations forces. Particular buildings also came under scrutiny, for example, the Murrah Building in Oklahoma which was the regional headquarters for a number of agencies linked to the federal government. These included the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms which had been involved in the Ruby Ridge and Waco incidents. The symbolism associated with the building meant that it was considered a legitimate target, but the large loss of life, including the death of many children,23 meant that the action horrified both left- and right-wing Americans and seriously weakened the militia movement.24 McVeigh subsequently acknowledged the strategic mistake and considered that specific targeted killings of federal officers would have achieved wider support. He was reported to be particularly influenced by an anti-government book, Unintended Consequences by John Ross, which was not published until 1996 and stated: ‘If people say that The Turner Diaries was my Bible … Unintended Consequences would be my New Testament. I think Unintended Consequences is a better book. It might have changed my whole plan of operation if I’d read that one first.’25 McVeigh was motivated by a number of issues and events. It was no coincidence that the bombing occurred on the second anniversary of the Waco incident. John Smith believed that, while there were a number of disturbing events that influenced McVeigh’s radicalisation, ‘if there had been no Waco, I don’t believe that Tim would have bombed the Murrah Building’.26 Serrano (1998) suggests that the Brady Bill and the belief that this was part of a wider attempt to disarm the American people, allied to the actions at Ruby Ridge and Waco, made him angry. McVeigh, it is argued, 22 Terry Nichols met McVeigh during basic army training. They were both then transferred to another camp where they met Michael Fortier, who was also convicted for his involvement in the attack. The three men remained in close contact until the Oklahoma bombing and shared anti-government sentiments, particularly after leaving the army. Nichols was convicted as McVeigh’s accomplice in the Oklahoma bombing. 23 McVeigh subsequently claimed that he was not aware of the presence of a nursery within the building (Michel and Herbeck, 2001). 24 As Sonder (2000) points out, there were many within the militia movement who argued the bombing was part of a conspiracy. However, the attack caused widespread revulsion across America and these groups did not prosper from their opportunism. 25 McVeigh is quoted in Michel and Herbeck (2001: 304). 26 Smith is quoted in Michel and Herbeck (2001: 289), who also report upon the tremendous anger that McVeigh felt whilst watching events at Waco unfold on television, and a noticeable intensified hatred for the government. McVeigh had visited the site earlier in the siege.

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concluded that only violence could challenge the growing federal government and force a return to individual freedoms. It is thought that the bombing in Oklahoma was intended to wake up America to the abuses by the federal government and to teach the government a lesson (Michel and Herbert, 2001; Serrano, 1998). McVeigh has argued that ‘I did not do it for personal gain … I did it for the larger good’.27 In other words, there is an emphasis upon defending the ‘American way of life’. The bombing became an act of altruism for which he expected to die, either in the immediate aftermath or through the death penalty, in what McVeigh referred to as ‘state-assisted suicide’ (Michel and Herbeck, 2001). His actions need to be considered as part of an historical conveyor belt of radicalisation that can be traced from the KKK through to more recent activists like Mathews and ideologues like Gale, Pierce and Beam. McVeigh was the end product of that process. The Far Right and Future Terrorism? The potential threat within the movement seems to have diminished since the 1995 Oklahoma bombing. Most militia and patriot groups were shocked by the bombing and quickly sought to condemn and distance themselves from the attack. The movement has been damaged by association and has come under greater government, media and general public scrutiny. Far right groups have also been weakened by the legal actions undertaken by the Southern Poverty Law Center on behalf of clients who have been victims of racist attacks.28 A number of cases have resulted in victims or their families receiving settlements and damages of millions of dollars which have bankrupted groups and severely hindered others. The presidency of George W. Bush was initially considered to be more sympathetic to right-wing and religious issues. A strengthening of Republican policies initially connected with the militia and patriot movement and engaged with the far right, or certainly inflamed considerably less than the Clinton administration. There are also signs that federal agents have learnt from the Ruby Ridge and Waco incidents and have adopted less aggressive stances when dealing with potentially similar scenarios. As a consequence, there have been less emotively mobilising events since the Murrah Building bomb. There are also signs that American intelligence about, and infiltration of, the groups has improved markedly. But while the far right movement has reduced in significance, this is not unusual within American history where, as the earlier discussion showed, levels of popularity have fluctuated. The history of the United States is also important for the far right, providing legitimacy and the source of the parameters for racial inequality, pride and the benchmark by which contemporary federal government actions and policies are to be measured and if necessary corrected. By comparison, the far right compares its relative marginalisation to earlier generations, when groups like the KKK remained politically influential at regional and nation levels, amidst impressions of a bygone American golden age. During the 1950s, the emphasis was on communist threats.

27 McVeigh is quoted in Michel and Herbeck (2001: 382). 28 As discussed by Kaplan (1995).


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Kaplan (1995: 87) argues that the radical right considered ‘America as imperilled but intrinsically good … The new world which would emerge [following defeat of the communists] would be nothing but a purified version of the contemporary American state.’ Instead, the far right became marginalised and witnessed ‘the processes of immigration, integration and eventually multiculturalism [which] gained momentum and the state was irrevocably hostile to the “remnant” of “real Americans”’ (ibid). Yet since the watershed period of the mid 1990s, many immoderate ideas have become incorporated within mainstream political ideologies, and it is claimed that militants have penetrated the US military.29 The atmosphere in which more extreme discourse could flourish has been reinforced by the rhetoric of the Bush administration.30 But simultaneously, opinion polls31 and heavy defeats in the 2006 mid term elections show that Bush’s popularity has steadily decreased over a range of issues, including the war in Iraq, economic slowdown in some states, especially in the midwest, property prices, healthcare costs, corruption, sex scandals and immigration. Republicans have also failed to deliver the conservative revolution which they promised would diminish the role of government into an ‘ownership society’. Nor has there been a significant change in employment practice that would have undermined claims of discrimination against white people. The perceived failure of the Bush administration, both within America and in international affairs, could help re-mobilise far right opposition. For example, the crisis in Iraq is causing a re-evaluation of American international policy that is similar to reactions to the war in Vietnam, which proved instrumental in changing perceptions within the far right about the role of America in global relations. And the inability of government to deliver manifesto commitments and reforms, and to overturn legislation like gay marriages and the right to abortion, could further disillusion sections of the population. Such factors could contribute to an adoption of more radical alternatives in the belief that these could deliver demanded changes. This dissatisfaction has been long standing. Even in the emotive aftermath of the Oklahoma bombing, Barkun (1997) discusses studies which showed that a significant minority of people across demographic categories expressed anti-government sentiments and feared encroaching threats to ‘personal rights and freedoms’. Today, concerns include the nature of international capitalism, the consequences of globalisation within America, the decline of industry and federal policies that are restricting employment prospects for whites, illegal immigration and the rights of individuals, in particular restraint on the ownership and use of weapons. These issues connect with radical discourse. Indeed polls and chat-rooms have shown how many people who supported Bush in the past are now more critical, and within

29 As reported in Southern Poverty Law Center (2006). 30 For example, on the Stormfront website, despite widespread criticism of Bush amongst the far right, some support can still be found amidst a belief that the President does not ‘really care about the Blacks and other non-Whites’, although there was widespread anger about Bush’s relations with Israel and Jews. 31 Further details about the election outcome and preceding polls can be found at BBC News (2006), ‘US Mid-terms: Key Issues’: .

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the far right, there is considerable contempt.32 As a consequence of these different factors, a threat from the far right remains.33 In 2005, the US Marshalls Service chief inspector, Geoff Shank, highlighted both the challenge and the relative neglect of the threat when claiming that: ‘Not a lot of attention is being paid to this, because everyone is concerned about the guy in a turban. But there are still plenty of angry, Midwestern white guys out there …’34 Whilst the overwhelming majority of survivalists live remotely, at least in part to restrict contact with state agencies, the long-term consequences of children being socialised within anti-government families and communities has yet to be established. And in reaction to the legal impositions, betrayals and prosecutions resulting from penetration from federal agents, some groups have become isolated cells, distanced from the broader hierarchical militia, harder to identify, trace and ultimately prevent from committing actions. The Oklahoma bombing is widely considered to have been detrimental to the far right movement and it seems unlikely that a group wanting to mobilise support will not have learnt from the contraction post 1995. This does not mean that groups will not commit terror attacks. There are signs that some groups have adopted more populist issues to promote and developed links with other groups, for example, the anti-abortion movement, in the wake of Oklahoma. Ironically, as Barkun (1997: 290) points out, the outcome of the bombing has been to help the radical right to move ‘toward the mainstream, supplying it with a kind of media access it never previously enjoyed and attributing to it a power about which it had only fantasized’. Although Barkun’s assessment may have overemphasised the movement’s levels of influence, there is little doubting the mainstreaming of some concepts and practices. Alongside this approach, a number of groups continue to accumulate vast reserves of weapons and some have been found guilty of planning terror attacks. For example, three anti-government militia members were arrested in 2002 for planning what officials believed was ‘one of the most audacious domestic terrorist plots since the 1995 Oklahoma bombing’ (Gold, 2004), and a white supremacist has recently been

32 Within militant websites, there is vitriolic denunciation of the President across a variety of issues. For example, on the popular white nationalist website, Stormfront.org, members claimed that the ‘Republicans had betrayed the whites’, that Bush ‘was one of the biggest sell-out traitors our race has ever seen’, who had allowed millions of immigrants into America and ‘advanced the globalist agenda more than any of the traitors before him’, and should be subjected to the death penalty. Members argued against voting to avoid providing legitimacy to the government, and while it was clear that some voted in 2004 for Bush to prevent Kerry assuming power or to safeguard firearms rights, it was felt that this was no longer sufficient reason to vote. With regard to the latter point, one respondent suggested that ‘if we keep supporting presidents for this sole point only, it won’t be long before we need our firearms to survive’. 33 Between 2000 and 2005, the number of hate groups increased by 33 per cent (Potok, 2006), although this is at least in part because of divisions and the loss of some previously popular groups’ credibility, resulting in fractures and more new groups forming in their place. 34 Shank is quoted in Croft (2006).


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convicted of attempting to acquire nerve gas and plastic explosives.35 In total, since 1995, the Southern Poverty Law Center has identified 60 planned or thwarted terror attacks by white supremacists and militias.36 And the multitude of militia, patriot and neo-Nazi groups amidst the fragmented far right movement creates tremendous competition for recruiting members and contributes to rapid shifts in allegiances and discursive transformations. Groups have to try to offer something different, linked to ideologies, group activities, location, and so on. Within this competitive arena, some groups may choose to emphasise the constraints imposed by other groups and opt for greater activism in a manner similar to Mathews and McVeigh. Concluding Left to Right The shift in terrorism from left- to right-wing participants has been dramatic, indicative of the different time periods and contexts in which individuals have been radicalised. Both extremes emerged out of wider movements which they considered were inadequately active, and so adopted the role of vanguard in order to ‘awaken’ the working classes or (white) American people. The wider movements contributed to the development of atmospheres of left- and right-wing radicalism with peer groups instrumental. Both extremes have also utilised the media to try to mobilise support and to provide legitimacy. Recent technological developments offer contemporary right-wing groups considerably greater communicative potential than previous generations of militants. ‘Red’ terrorism was concerned with capitalism, the working classes and international events, in particular Vietnam and American colonialism. People committing acts of terrorism who have emerged from the right wing have also expressed concern about the nature of international capitalism, but do not suggest the overthrow of the economic system. Instead, greater attention is placed upon the consequences of globalisation within America, the decline of industry and federal policies that are considered to restrict employment prospects for whites, and the rights of individuals, in particular restraint on the ownership and use of weapons. For the left wing, the history of the United States was a source of anger and a motivator for rectifying the damages associated with slavery, the genocide of native Americans and American imperialism. By comparison, amongst the far right the past has been the source of parameters for racial inequality, pride and the benchmark by which contemporary federal government actions and policies are to be measured and if necessary corrected. The ‘red’ militants failed to attract popular support, particularly when the war in Vietnam ended. However, when the grievances of the contemporary far right are examined, it is noticeable how a number of the complaints, such as racial and gender equality, civil rights, sexuality and gay rights, preferential treatment for minorities and stronger, more robust legal protection, are issues that connect into the spirit of the left-wing ideology. In other words, the implementation of policies that accorded with elements of the ‘red’ terror discourse has contributed both to the undermining

35 Cases provided by Croft (2006) and Potok (2006). 36 Blejwas, Griggs and Potok (2005).

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of left-wing militancy and the mobilisation of the far right. And in light of recent developments both within America and in international relations, the threat from the ‘enemy within’ remains.

Chapter 7

Conclusion: Terrorism Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow Introduction This book has been designed to explore the relationships between individuals and societies that contribute to processes of radicalisation and membership of terror groups. Throughout the various case studies, it is immediately noticeable that socio-economic backgrounds of members, their experiences of social processes and activities and characteristics are distinguished by tremendous heterogeneity within and between groups. Conversely, there are similarities within the diversity. In this conclusion, common routes into terrorism and important distinctions within and between groups are brought together to try to enhance levels of knowledge and understanding about social processes through which people become members of terror groups. Popular perceptions established in the introduction are challenged by vicissitudes identified within the preceding chapters. For example, explanations that orientate around poverty, both absolute and relative, are unfounded when generalised. Reducing terrorism to materialism cannot explain the involvement of educated, successful people in groups like the transnational al-Qa’ida, Italian Red Brigades or American racialists. Indeed these groups rely on such people for organisation, communication and strategy. Nor can such reductionism understand the broad spectrum of support which some actions attract, particularly within nationalist campaigns in Northern Ireland and the Palestinian territories. Another popular explanation is that ‘terrorists’ are mentally ill or have weak personalities or possess what Shaw (1986: 365) described as an ‘incomplete or fragmented psychosocial identity’. Again there is no significant evidence to substantiate the claim that higher rates exist within groups than in outside control groups (McCauley, 1991).1 On the contrary, a significant amount of information exists that portrays the ‘normality’ of people who undertake acts of terrorism on behalf of different ideologies. Terror groups could not operate effectively nor recruit if they had disproportionate numbers of dysfunctional members. Suggesting that people who have undertaken actions of terrorism are not ‘abnormal’ challenges societal attempts to understand, and arguably dismiss, extremist actions and ideologies. If the challenge is to be addressed, new ways of thinking about terrorism and individuals who undertake attacks need to be developed. If these people are in 1 Nor is this to deny that involvement and disengagement from terror groups does entail considerable psychological pressures that can result in mental illness.

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many respects ‘normal’, then the concepts and methods adopted to examine them must avoid sensationalism and subjectivity that has hindered the study of terrorism. To this end, this book has tried to avoid applying the term ‘terrorist’ and making moral judgements. This is not because a relativist stance has been adopted but is due to the belief that this exploratory and explanatory forum is inappropriate for such assessments. Finally, again contrary to public opinion, within the case studies there are not common personality characteristics, types of people who commit acts of terrorism nor is there a generic route into terrorism. It may, for instance, be easier to understand terrorism to be the consequence of brainwashing, but there is no evidence to suggest that its use is widespread across any of the examined groups. Instead, multifarious pathways into militancy exist. These processes and the social settings in which they occur require exploration. The remainder of this conclusion aims to provide comparative analysis of the interrelationships between processes and settings across the related groups. It is argued that this multi-layered framework is required if complexities and vicissitudes within terrorism are to be understood and explained. To achieve this, the central questions raised in the introduction are addressed. To help enhance the analysis of religious groups, examples from the Japanese cult Aum Supreme Truth2 are included. Which ideologies do terror groups hold? How do these ideologies conflict with mainstream values? The ideologies examined contain different beliefs and principles. ‘Red’ terror groups in Germany, Italy, Japan and the United States were based upon Marxist–Leninist– Maoist thought that attacked capitalism and Western imperialism, particularly American, on behalf of the working classes and suppressed peoples of the world. With the exception of Italy, however, the working classes were not particularly appreciative of the actions undertaken in their name. Militia and racialist groups in America were at the opposite end of the political spectrum, espousing right-wing values with a strong emphasis upon racism, anti-Semitism, economic and employment protectionism, (white) American, and frequently religious, values. Religious groups associated with al-Qa’ida promoted Islamic values and practices and sought to implement the Shari’ah within contemporary settings because of their opposition to irreligious governments and civil societies. Aum Supreme Truth in Japan also sought to implement a religious hybrid that synthesised strands of Buddhism, Taoism, Hinduism and Christianity, and ancient theological roots.3 Religious groups shared fundamental disillusionment with secular governments, political parties, excessive materialism and individualism and a perceived threat from a Jewish conspiracy. The three ideological categories are clearly very different, but shared concerns about the impact of globalisation and the role of the United States, with leaders such as Aum 2 Aum Supreme Truth was responsible for kidnapping, murder and the sarin gas attack on the Tokyo subway in 1995. 3 Additional sources about the cult include Box and McCormack (2004), Hudson (1999), Pye (1996) and Yoshiyuki (2002).


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Supreme Truth’s Shoko Asahara blaming America for Japan’s economic and social problems (Kaplan and Marshall, 1996; Karmon, 1999; Reader, 2000). Even the American militias have expressed considerable anger at the direction of American society and international policies, arguing for a return to more traditional ways of behaving. These ideologies have clear targeted institutions, use similar tactics of self-aggrandisement and depersonalisation and have identified some of the same problems. All these discourses are rather vague about alternative frameworks. By comparison, nationalist groups in Northern Ireland and the Palestinian territories have promoted independence from British and Israeli control respectively, based around the former’s weak socialist discourse and in the case of groups like Hamas and PIJ, militant Islam. Loyalist groups in Northern Ireland can be considered as introverted nationalists who have sought to retain integration within the United Kingdom. While anti-Americanism has become increasingly noticeable within Palestinian rhetoric, emphasis upon American imperialism and globalisation has been less influential within these conflicts. Because the ideologies, particularly in Northern Ireland, are less anti-systemic in comparison with the ideological groups, discourses are less ambiguous, more detailed, with obvious links to existing institutions and processes. Why do people want to join terror groups? Unsurprisingly across the groups, individuals placed considerable attention on ideological reasons for wanting to become members of terror groups. Gupta (2005) argues that individuals calculate the implications of their possible involvement with groups by assessing personal and group benefits and costs. If costs exceed benefits, then the individual remains outside the group, and if benefits are dominant then the individual is more likely to want to join. However, decisions to become members of such groups are not just about rational decision making. There is a need to examine both individual and social attractions. As a Palestinian ‘terrorist’ told Post, Sprinzak and Denny (2003: 182), ‘my motivation in joining … was both ideological and personal. It was a question of self fulfilment, of honor and a feeling of independence.’ Malečková (2005: 41) suggests that terrorism should be understood as ‘mainly an answer to political complaints and of terrorists as motivated by political involvement and belief in a political cause, rather than by economic considerations’. Across the different case studies, political motivation is apparent, with individuals inspired by altruism to participate on behalf of others. Timothy McVeigh’s comments, ‘I did not do it for personal gain … I did it for the larger good’,4 are reflective of many accounts behind the perpetrators’ actions and their attempts to justify them. However, materialist and individualist reasons should not be overlooked. Many people are motivated at individual and social levels by group ideologies that attack economic inequalities, unemployment and the impact of globalisation. For example, materialism is embedded within nationalist campaigns in Northern Ireland and the Palestinian territories, and right-wing protectionism in America. At a more distinct 4

McVeigh is quoted in Michel and Herbeck (2001: 382).

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individualist level, people also become engaged with terror groups for personalised reasons. For instance, Hoffman (1998) draws attention to the Weather’s Susan Stern, the IRA’s Mickey Collins, the RAF’s Silke Maier-Witt and the Red Brigades’ Susanna Ronconi who have alluded to the senses of power and excitement felt when involved with terror activities. Others like Carlos the Jackal and Ramzi Ahmed Yousef, the mastermind behind the first attack on the Twin Towers in 1993, are associated by Hoffman with seeking success and self-gratification. To this list, the desire for revenge (Silke, 2003) can be added which was noticeable across the different case studies; for example, left-wing militants angered by the deaths of protesters or colleagues, Northern Irish paramilitaries mobilised by atrocities committed by the ‘other’, Palestinians witnessing attacks on children, Islamic transnational militants viewing videos of atrocities committed against Muslims in Bosnia, Chechnya and Iraq, and the right-wing martyrs killed by federal agents. Consequently, as Gupta (2005) notes, acts of terrorism are not motivated by a single factor. What is it about societies and social contexts that contributes towards peoples radicalisation? If it is accepted that people who join terror groups are not noticeably abnormal, are often at least reasonably educated and not brainwashed, then alternative explanations must be developed that can incorporate multiple factors. A central component is the setting or exposure to a wider context in which people become radicalised. At a basic level, groups, and individuals within, become involved in acts of terrorism following a process of assessment of the setting and in particular other political opportunities. Groups choose to adopt violence as a tactic for a number of reasons. Often they lack popular support and consider themselves as vanguards, aiming to mobilise through actions, wanting to ‘wake up’ the people to what is happening around them that needs to be changed. This is true for the ideological groups. Other groups adopted terrorism because governments were oppressive, denying popular political participation. Consequently, some organisations chose terrorism because it is considered the only productive method to express dissent and seek to bring about change. However, in some cases, if the suppression of opposition is so effective, militants can be forced abroad, like the Japanese Red Army and Egyptian Islamic Jihad, whose leading members were to become integral with the transnational al-Qa’ida. And finally, Crenshaw (2003a: 98) argues that groups choose terrorism ‘because they are impatient with time-consuming legal methods of eliciting support or advertising their cause, because they distrust the regime or are not capable of, or interested in, mobilizing majority support’. Leftwing groups operating in the West and Japan, and right-wing groups in America and in some instances of Islamic militancy, are cases in point; their members have lost confidence in consensual political participation. Nationalist groups like the IRA, Hamas, the UVF and the UFF place emphasis on their defensive capacities against violent aggressors but, in the first two examples, also undertake acts of terrorism in order to bring about fundamental change, namely independence from ruling forces. The context is also vital because it provides legitimacy for militant discourse at local and global levels, in part through the impact of government policies,


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international organisations and globalisation. For example, groups like The Order in America and the militias more generally would not have attracted support if their claims about immigration, threat to the American way of life, loss of individualism and economic risks did not resonate with people’s experiences or their impressions gained through socialising agents (see below). Groups in Northern Ireland and the Palestinian territories would have struggled to retain community support if the people did not feel threatened by the ‘other’, and were not aware of people who had been injured or killed. Experiences of discrimination, economic, social and political restraints could contribute to people being mobilised to help eradicate such problems through the creation of a new nation-state. Support for terror activities within these regions fluctuates according to these perceptions, and in the Palestinian territories according to levels of confidence about the peace process (Bloom, 2005). By comparison, a correlation can be discerned in the closer ties between the British and Irish governments and a surge in loyalist activity and support. The improved relationship was viewed as a stepping stone to a united Ireland. Similarly, Aum Supreme Truth quickly became popular because the leader Asahara’s messages about spiritual growth connected with people disaffected with employment patterns and social conventions (Yoshiyuki, 2002). The cult’s apocalyptic forecasts, which became prominent in the 1990s, connected into Japanese concerns generally about world destruction. Reader (2000) suggests that this is in part a legacy of the tremendous impact of the atomic bombs dropped in 1945. Transnational groups associated with al-Qa’ida find it much easier to mobilise opposition around international feelings of anger, hatred and prejudices like anti-Semiticism and anti-Americanism, through Israel’s continuing control of the West Bank and the killing of Muslim civilians, euphemistically termed ‘collateral damage’ by American forces. Therefore for radical consciousness to be accepted by individuals, group discourse has to be legitimised politically, economically, socially or culturally, or a combination thereof. The impact of changes within settings is prominent in the ideological groups’ rhetoric and support. Through globalisation and increasingly complex and chaotic social processes and activities, changes and their unintended consequences are likely to accelerate and possibly provide further legitimacy for terrorism. How important is history in the formation and longevity of terror groups? Interpretations of history play an important role for a range of reasons. For nationalist terror groups, the past provides ‘evidence’ for the legitimacy of the cause through the long-standing nature of the conflict and the lack of trust in other parties and/or nations. Thus Irish republicans have stressed the historical roots of their cause, with particular emphasis placed upon nineteenth-century famine, the 1916 Easter Rising, the abolition of Home Rule and more recently Bloody Sunday. Palestinian militants seek to draw links between the 1917 Balfour Agreement and contemporary peace deals, and highlight the failures of Arab nations to address the situation. The wrongs of the past when viewed through comparable contemporary frames of reference become the basis for mobilising opposition. The ‘red’ terror groups, particularly in West Germany, Italy and Japan, also utilised history to mobilise support. These

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groups concentrated upon their countries’ fascistic past and the compliance of older generations, of whom they were suspicious and frequently resentful. Events were viewed through a filter constituting interpretations of authoritarianism, repression and complicity. Consequently, state violence added to fears that the past was being reignited and was interpreted to be an extension of, or return to, fascism. By comparison other groups view previous generations and ways of life as golden eras. For militant Muslims and extreme American racialists, violence is required to assist in reintroducing historical precedents of religious values and behaviour. Loyalist groups in Northern Ireland have also emphasised a glorious past and the symbolism of Orange victories is prominent. However, their conflict with republicans is considered to be in defence of loyalist heritage and culture and has been mobilised through mistrust of the British government’s intentions. But the groups remained pro-British and were seeking to defend, rather than transform, the status quo. The extent to which terrorism is prolonged is influenced by a number of variables, including most obviously state reactions and the resolution of the conflict. Historical perceptions of violent struggles, state actions and discursive consciousness will influence the extent to which government attempts to stigmatise ‘terrorists’ are successful and counter-terror strategies deemed justifiable. Support levels are also fundamentally important. Groups with extensive support find it easier to maintain membership and justification for actions. Again this can be seen to apply to conflicts in Northern Ireland and the Palestinian territories. In the former, the peace process was given momentum by both republican and loyalist paramilitaries losing popular appeal. The extent of groups’ legitimacy is also influenced by the use of violence in the past. Paramilitary groups in Northern Ireland can, for example, draw upon regular periods of armed confrontation and acts of terrorism. Islamic militants refer to military successes in the formation of Muslim Empires, the self-declared role of the ‘Arab Afghans’ during the war with the Soviet Union (1979–89) and sections of theological doctrine and traditions that are interpreted to justify acts of terrorism. People from the American militia and racialist movement who have committed acts of violence also use history to justify their actions, referring to the roles both of religion in the founding of the country and civilian militia in the War of Independence and Civil War. However, West German, Japanese and American left-wing militants were operating in countries with limited historical precedents associated with their discourse and so had less legitimacy to attract support. By comparison, Italy had a much stronger association with socialist and anarchist ideologies during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. In addition, armed resistance against the Nazis during the Second World War strengthened left-wing ideologies in a manner that was absent in the other three countries. Arguably this past helped to enhance ‘red’ terrorism in Italy and contributed towards more extensive support. Are there any particular events or triggers that lead to people joining terror groups? Across the different groups, events or experiences, or what della Porta (1995) refers to as ‘precipitating factors’, that trigger radicalisation and the decision to join terror groups are prominent. These include: for bin Laden, the Saudi government’s decision to allow American troops onto its territory; the killing of peers, for Northern Irish


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paramilitaries; attacks by federal agents on American families and communes was instrumental for Timothy McVeigh and other members of the militia and racialist movement; the deaths of protestors for the ‘red’ terror members; and military attacks by the Israeli military within the Palestinian territories. It is, however, important not to examine the significance of triggers in isolation. Triggers are important, but if occurring as isolated incidents they have limited impact upon radicalisation or terrorism. For example, sectarian killings continue within Northern Ireland but these are isolated attacks and not part of concerted campaigns. The killings are also being committed against a backdrop of peace and hopes for the future. Consequently, communities’ fears have not been reignited and there is little demand for paramilitaries to reform. Horgan (2005: 83–4) argues that if triggers are to mobilise membership of groups, they need to be combined with preconditions that can be noticed within different social contexts. The preconditions include discrimination, rapid modernisation, inept or corrupt government, lack of political representation, foreign interference and extremist ideologies. In other words, the existence of preconditions ‘heighten the likely risk and direction of the emergence of terrorism, which when combined with triggering events … increase the likelihood substantially that terrorism might develop as a strategy for influencing, or stopping such [provocative] activities’ (ibid: 84). Does radicalisation occur instantaneously or is it a gradual process? Individuals are rarely radicalised overnight. Ultimately, loyalty to the cause has to be more important than commitment to mainstream norms and values that are opposed to militancy and are well engrained within social relations and consciousness. Consequently, reciprocal processes of attachment to militancy and detachment and disassociation from alternative ideologies and people outside the movement has to occur. These changes take time. For this to happen, individuals have to experience social settings that expose them to preconditions for possible radicalisation, and associations with militant alternative discourse must be developed. Problems are reappraised, social experiences and structures re-interpreted and different beliefs and practices need to develop and intensify. Close bonds have to be developed with group members to enable membership to be offered and/or accepted. These processes are not unique to terrorism. Sageman (2004) identifies parallels between recruitment and gradual conversion of people by revivalist religious movements and terror organisations. In community-based conflicts like Northern Ireland and the Palestinian territories, the overwhelming majority of individuals are socialised at an early age into values and practices, with many Catholics and Muslims being what Silke (2003: 39) describes as ‘marginalised at birth’. There will be considerable variations but also some consistency applicable to the community and society at that particular time period. Few children learn, or are encouraged, to become involved in terrorism, but are exposed to an atmosphere of militancy and denigration of the ‘other’. In these environments, radicalism has permeated mainstream social ties, and for many individuals there is less emotional distance to travel through joining a terror group like the IRA, Hamas or the UVF. The movement towards militancy is therefore


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often a gradual process that begins during childhood and accelerates when terror ideologies become legitimised by experiences. The development of terror groups within Islamic and ‘red’ ideologies can also be considered to be a staggered process as individuals ‘become marginalised as a result of general life experiences’ (Silke, 2003: 39). Once marginalisation within society has taken place, individuals have less interest in maintaining existing social relations and are more disposed to challenge nation-states. Terrorism as a tactic was not immediately introduced on encountering potential preconditions for political violence. Instead groups formed after other forms of political engagement failed. For example, the Muslim Brotherhood’s policies in the Middle East resulted in the organisation’s suppression in some countries, broad, radical student movements across the West and Japan failed to achieve their goals peacefully, and the Japanese Aum Supreme Truth had a poor showing in the 1990 general election. Silj (1979) points out that people who became involved in the early stages of the Italian armed struggle were at the second or third phases of political militancy, having previously been involved in the extra-parliamentary left. The RAF’s Ulrike Meinhof also commented that ‘all of us come from there: from the street battles of Berlin students in 1967–68 against the police, from the sit-ins, and from the attempt … to make socialist politics at the limit of legality’.5 Similarly, republican paramilitaries in Northern Ireland were given momentum by the failure of the NICRA. For the American far right, there was no concerted attempt at mainstream political participation, although there have been individuals who have sought election on racialist issues. Instead, there seems to have been a general disillusionment with consensual politics and a belief that politicians and the public needed to be awoken to ‘what is happening’. Involvement within these broader movements and related institutions that already espouse radical rhetoric means that morally and psychologically, the step into terrorism may be less severe. After groups have become established, individual decision-making processes to join could be viewed as condensed. People will assess existing options for action and one of those possibilities will be terrorism. As such, they will have the benefit of experience and the justifications for violent actions that the group founders had to confront and develop. Founding members would already have an explanatory framework to help overcome moral ambiguities that also undermine rival conciliatory organisations. Silj’s (1979) comparison between the first generation of Italian militants and subsequent members identifies that latter groups reached radicalism sooner. They were less likely to be involved in other forms of left-wing protest which had been discredited by that point. Again, though, it is important to stress that individual processes of radicalisation were not instantaneous. Examination of the life histories of members of the Hamburg cell, loyalists and republicans in Northern Ireland, second generation militants in West Germany and Italy, suicide/martyrdom bombers in the Palestinian territories and Robert Mathews and Timothy McVeigh in America indicate slow processes of marginalisation from mainstream society, disillusionment with other ideologies, and concomitant commitment and internalisation of radical discourse that ultimately ended in participation within terror groups. 5

Meinhof is quoted in Neidhardt (1982: 339).


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Having become radicalised and distanced from consensual consciousness, it is not inevitable that individuals join terror groups. The final step into terrorism will be partly determined by the individual’s skills, personality and associates, friends and networks that can offer routes into groups. In other words, to become a member, people and relationships need to be encountered that would enable individuals to form, or join, a group. This is easier for people who live in places in which individuals involved in terrorism are integrated within communities and their organisations have legal political divisions or co-organisations such as Hamas and IRA/Sinn Féin. For people who live in communities where there is no known terror presence and with groups operating clandestinely, joining a terror group is extremely difficult and reliant upon social contacts. Consequently, to become a ‘terrorist’ requires familiarity with particular socialising agents and a certain amount of luck. Which socialising agents are contributing to the internalisation processes that are resulting in individuals’ consciousness shifting towards terrorism? For individuals to become involved in terrorism, their existing set of attitudes, loyalties and opinions must be replaced with new concepts, beliefs and behavioural frameworks. Taylor and Quayle (1994: 199) remark ‘that political violence is a learned behaviour’. Socialisation processes are a central component of this transformation, and the roles of agents have been shown to be instrumental within the different groups. The family is an obvious instigating agent because it is the first that an individual substantively encounters. However, the impact of the family in processes of radicalisation varies. Post (1984, 1998) distinguishes between members’ relationships within ‘anarchic-ideologue’ groups like the RAF and the Italian Red Brigades, and ‘nationalist-separatist’ groups like the IRA. In the former, many individuals are estranged from their families who had no role to play in their radicalisation, although as the chapter on ‘red’ terrorism indicated, there are instances when siblings, particularly in Italy, were instrumental. By comparison, members of the IRA were not usually alienated from their families. Indeed in some ways paramilitaries could be seen to be protecting families as part of their self-declared role of defenders of the community. Consequently, there is considerably less opposition and, on the contrary, the family may be supportive and proud, particularly those with an intergenerational history of involvement within republicanism. Similar reasoning could be applied to members of loyalist and Palestinian groups. Although the familial impact may be less direct within ideological terrorism in comparison with nationalist, the indirect effect cannot be discounted. For example, many militant Muslims were introduced to Islam by practising parents. Similarly, leading members of the RAF originated from left-leaning families. Consequently, families can often introduce individuals and encourage ideological allegiance to their children, who become radicalised through exposure to other agents. For these individuals, the childhood introduction meant that they had less ideological distance to travel into militancy than their peers who had no such exposure at earlier ages. Generally, though, except for ideological members who became involved in terrorism

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through their siblings or in some instances cousins and uncles, the majority of people seem to have become involved through the direct influence of other agents. In the introductory chapter, the perceived significance of education was identified. The case studies have confirmed that the roles of schools and universities have been over-emphasised. This is not to argue that these institutions are unimportant. On the contrary, some medressas promote religious intensity, Catholic and Protestant schools in Northern Ireland continue to promote separate values and celebrate different histories, and American education glorifies the contributions of white Christians. Few of these schools have directly socialised children to become involved within terrorism. But they have contributed to atmospheres of perceived supremacy, ignorance of the ‘other’ and even separatism. And again, individuals immersed within this atmosphere will be less surprised or shocked by militancy. By comparison, Aum Supreme Truth established a range of teaching and self-enhancement programmes and seminars where individuals were introduced to a range of different principles and techniques with a view to recruiting them into the cult.6 Schools and universities have been prominent as places where groups of individuals came together, collectively developed solidarity, social and political identification and contributed to atmospheres of radicalism. These processes often happened in opposition to learning institutions, most notably during the development of left-wing radicalism across campuses and the penetration of universities by militant Muslims. And at a pragmatic level, the expansion of higher education and compulsory schooling have proved central in the cognitive development of individuals, providing them with thought processes and logistical and technical skills that are essential for terrorism. In other words, improved education has provided terror groups with more potentially useful members. For the case studies, different forms of media have been used by the groups to attempt to recruit new members and provide legitimacy for their discourse. Large numbers of American whites and the overwhelming majority of Muslims have little or no direct contact with blacks or Jews respectively. Yet despite this lack of contact, both groups are hated by large numbers of militants. If these people are not developing their views based upon personal experience, socialising agents must be providing negative narrative and images. A plethora of websites propagating militant Islam across the world and extreme racialism in the United States exist that provide innumerable examples of problems associated with blacks and Jews. The most mediafriendly of groups associated with terrorism was probably Aum Supreme Truth. A vast array of literature was published dealing with different aspects of the group’s peaceful activities, led by representatives who would promote the cult on different media forums, including chat shows. Within the American racialist movement, the most notorious publication is The Turner Diaries. Part of the narrative was seemingly adopted by Timothy McVeigh in the bombing of the federal building in Oklahoma. Earlier ideological groups, operating prior to the widespread advent of the Internet, used a variety of publications and street graffiti. Northern Irish paramilitaries and Palestinian groups have also used similar mechanisms. 6 It should be pointed out that the majority of people who joined Aum Supreme Truth were not aware of the group’s terror activities which were undertaken by the leadership core.


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However, terror groups control only a small minority of the total number of media outlets. The majority of people acquire information from more consensual forms of media. Despite these communication channels generally being opposed to terror groups, they often unintentionally provide reports that could be considered to legitimise militant discourse. For example, disproportionate news coverage about black rapists, murderers and drug dealers make it easier for racialists to successfully disseminate ideologies that portray blacks as predominantly criminals and sexual deviants who are a threat to white communities. Similarly, reports on American attacks on Iraq and the deaths of civilians can be used by militant Muslims in support of their claim that the West is attacking Islam and Muslims generally. Connolly and Maginn (1999: 72) develop this perspective, in this instance with respect to Protestants, but the underlying point also applies to children and people who are living under a perceived threat: ‘Specific feelings of threat and territoriality’ that children use to express their situation ‘appears to mediate their reading of the news and the actions of Gerry Adams and the IRA … these broader news events then, in turn, provide the lens through which local events and experiences are understood.’ In other words, the media contributes towards people’s perceptions of events and discourse, arguably more so in instances where the recipient has little knowledge or experience. Across processes of right and left wing, nationalist and loyalist, religious and secular radicalisation, peers and group dynamics have been arguably the most instrumental influence. Many people are attracted into existing terror organisations through the ties they make with individuals or through looser associations with the groups. The sense of camaraderie and loyalty or status and excitement associated with the role or group can appeal to potential members. This is particularly noticeable within community-based groups and the routes from youth movements. Consequently, people’s participation often begins through friendship and solidarity. Members collectively develop shared social consciousness, emotional feelings and concomitant processes of de-individuation which loosen social restraints.7 When these coincide with preconditions such as perceived discrimination, sense of injustice, feelings of political exclusion and exposure to triggers, people can become radicalised, sharing intense in-group identity, and form terror cells like the Islamic militants in Hamburg (attacks in America, 2001), West Yorkshire (London bombings, 2005) and Bali, and within the RAF, the Red Brigades, the Japanese Red Army and The Order in the United States. Aum Supreme Truth became radicalised in part due to the pressures being placed upon the cult by journalists and solicitors investigating recruitment methods and extensive donations. With bad publicity increasing, the group’s inner loyalties intensified and the leadership were involved in killing a solicitor who was denouncing the sect (Kaplan and Marshall, 1996; Yoshiyuki, 7 Rogers (2003) makes an interesting point in his discussion about the potential of cyber-terrorism, namely that the advent of technology and virtual communication adds new dimensions to group relationships. Networks are forming across the world and attacks can be undertaken that could not have previously happened. Virtual relationships provide further anonymity for members, reduce feelings of accountability for acts of violence determined within the group and distance individuals from the outcomes of the attacks.

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2002). Asahara began making apocalyptic prophecies and, after committing one murder, there seems to have been less restraint on the group’s radicalisation towards terrorism. In turn, these activities would accord with the doom-laden predictions and in the process strengthen the cult’s legitimacy. Within groups, political consciousness became more militant and distinctions between themselves and the ‘other’ became clearly defined through interwoven processes of glorification of themselves, de-personalisation of the enemy and attempts at stigmatisation, particularly within popular media. Horgan (2005: 108) comments that ‘the group plays a significant role in shaping the behavioural processes inherent in becoming a terrorist, but plays perhaps an even more obvious role in terms of sustaining involvement and promoting engagement in violence’. To this can be added Taylor and Quayle’s (1994: 21) observation that the dynamics within groups can ‘result in a diffusion of responsibility for violence, weakening moral prohibitions against the use of violence’.8 When individuals are part of terror groups and operate underground, they become reliant on other group members, isolated from other forms of social interaction, and everyday life is transformed (della Porta, 1992a; 1992b). These intra-relationships strengthen inner solidarity, commitment, sense of loyalty and camaraderie which often remain even after people have left or been arrested. This is particularly prominent within groups operating without community support. However, the clandestine requirements even of groups like the IRA, the UVF and Hamas also result in some distantiation. The necessity of operating secretively does create problems, in particular for non-community-based groups who become isolated from the people they claim to be representing. As Adriana Faranda (a convicted Red Brigades member) told Jamieson (1989: 268), ‘we had to trust in our impressions which in fact were only the subjective impressions of others’. In these situations, it becomes increasingly difficult for groups to engage with their targeted audience and enhance their levels of support, because they have less indication what the wider population actually requires. Are the processes through which people become involved in religious terror groups similar to those for secular groups? It has been well documented that new religious groups like al-Qa’ida and Aum Supreme Truth are part of a dramatic departure from previous categories of terrorism,9 although the extent of this difference may have been exaggerated. For example, Bergesen and Han (2005) and Duyvesteyn (2004) argue that there are numerous examples of groups from earlier periods that shared characteristics associated with the ‘new’ groups. By comparing processes through which people become members of al-Qa’ida and Aum Supreme Truth with secular ideological and nationalist groups, the extent to which contemporary religious groups are indeed unique will be given further examination.

8 Similar points can be found in Bandura (1998) and Post (1998). 9 For further information, see Hoffman (1998), Hudson (1999), Laqueur (2003) and Rapoport (2003).


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Secular and religious groups have opposing ideologies, differing depths of intensity and psychological boundaries of restraint. Yet processes that lead to individuals internalising attitudes, beliefs and loyalties associated with these discourses are surprisingly similar. If secular nationalists in Northern Ireland such as the IRA and religious nationalists such as Hamas and PIJ from the Palestinian territories are compared, a number of commonalities can be identified. In both regions, groups are integrated within local communities and immersed in historical symbolism which interacts with recent social settings to provide justification for acts of terrorism. Individuals are influenced by environments in which they develop, brought up in families who frequently share nationalist discourse, if not republicanism or militant Islam. They attend schools that, while not promoting militancy, reproduce historical narrative and separatism that contribute to an atmosphere of group solidarity and proactivism. These agents contribute to ignorance about the ‘other’. By comparison, people are familiar with ‘their communities’’ ideologies and the presence of terror groups to which they become attracted through friends and family connections. Militant discourse is legitimised by contextual preconditions such as feelings of marginalisation, repression, presence of a foreign occupation, discrimination and social injustice, and trigger events such as army brutality and acts of atrocity committed by the ‘other’. Recruitment is usually from the communities10 and includes predominantly male (discussed in following section) members from across the social spectrum, working and middle classes, uneducated and well-qualified people. When comparisons are undertaken between religious and secular ideological groups, similarities can also be noticed. Again there is a cross-section of members, with the leadership generally possessing higher than average levels of education. For instance, Aum Supreme Truth deliberately recruited members with high academic levels of attainment from top universities or leading corporations who were disenchanted with Japanese society. Recruits had expertise in areas like physics, chemistry, electrical engineering, biology, medicine and information technology (Box and McCormack, 2004), in part to provide the knowledge and aptitude required for developing the intended weapons of mass destruction. And Roy (2004) identifies similarities in Western education, and frequently scientific backgrounds, of militant Muslims and left-wing radicals in Italy, West Germany and France. Universities were also recruiting grounds for the ‘red’ groups who had high numbers of graduates within their ranks. Both types of ideological groups formed out of wider movements. Left-wing organisations emerged out of the student movements during the 1960s. Aum Supreme Truth belonged to a much broader spiritual movement that incorporated an estimated 183,000 different cults11 while al-Qa’ida is part of a global Islamic resurgence generally, and rise in militancy specifically. Within these groups, the role of families was less noticeable. Educational institutions have been more influential for Islamic groups because they have contributed to more intense atmospheres of religiosity. Peer relationships have been 10 People from other countries have also been noticeable in terror attacks on behalf of the IRA and Palestinian groups, and include second generation Irish migrants and BritishPakistani Muslims respectively. 11 Estimate provided in Hoffman (1998).

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instrumental across the ideological spectrum, contributing to individuals collectively becoming radicalised and forming their own groups or joining existing groups. And again, there are similarities between some of the preconditions for terrorism forming, namely feelings of imperialism, anti-Americanism, social injustice, corrupt government and the impact of globalisation. Triggering events include actions of the United States, for example, the wars in Vietnam and Iraq, and the deaths of protestors or other members. The most obvious difference between religious and secular groups relates unsurprisingly to the former’s emphasis upon theological justification and the role of salvation as a motivational tool. Within groups associated with al-Qa’ida, and Hamas and PIJ in the Palestinian territories, suicide/martyrdom attacks are inspired by altruistic factors that are similar to those that motivate actions by the secular groups. However, there is also a noticeable stress within religious groups on a correlation between dying for the cause and salvation. In Aum Supreme Truth, religion was also used to justify acts of terrorism, with members informed that killing ‘hell-bound’ people was positive and would enable the perpetrator to rise another level towards nirvana (Kaplan and Marshall, 1996). Why do the majority of people who share a number of experiences with those who commit acts of terrorism not become part of the same groups? There are a number of factors that result in people who encounter preconditions for terrorism not becoming involved within groups. For the majority of people, militant ideology and violent behaviour is not legitimised by events or experiences. There is therefore little or no justification for existing norms and values to be replaced by different radical beliefs and loyalties: they do not experience a crisis of state legitimacy. Individuals may witness triggers like police attacks and conditions associated with government repression and economic inequality. But without their confidence in consensual political participation being shattered and a concomitant rise in the potential of violent mechanisms, the person will be unlikely to join a terror group. Individual and social analysis will conclude that it is better to not become involved in terrorism. It is illuminating to compare support levels for left-wing groups in West Germany, Italy, Japan and the United States. All groups advocated communist militancy and working class liberation during the height of the Cold War to societies that recalled the atrocities of the Second World War and were experiencing tremendous periods of economic growth and consumerism. For the overwhelming majority of the populations, the militants’ discourse and emphasis on gross inequalities and state repression did not resonate with people’s interpretations or personal histories. Nor is internalisation of militant discourse irreversible. If individuals believe that terrorism is no longer justifiable and/or the ideology is not legitimised by events or experiences, then they are likely to leave the group, providing this is permitted. Additionally, pragmatic issues have to be examined such as social relationships that enable people to become part of terror groups. In other words, many individuals become influenced and involved through friendships that led to them being invited into groups or collectively to form groups. Terror organisations will rarely allow


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people to join who cannot be vouched for by trusted members. This may in part help to explain the most notable under-representation within terror groups, namely the relative lack of female participants and their lack of social networks and opportunities. Patterns of female engagement can be argued to reflect levels of participation within other areas of societies. And as Oliverio and Lauderdale (2005) note, women’s experience of violence is based more upon being victims rather than perpetrators. Generic societal experiences can be seen to contribute to girls not internalising skills, values and group solidarities associated with ‘war games’ and boys’ youth organisations. Women have reduced opportunities to join groups, with limited appropriate social contacts, more restrictive skills and experiences and less enthusiasm for the use of violence to resolve problems. Clearly there are well-publicised examples of women who have undertaken acts of violence, whose behaviour is often viewed against stereotypes of sexuality.12 Actions are measured against benchmarks of female passivity which challenge societal stereotypes about gender-specific behaviour. Unsurprisingly, in light of their egalitarian rhetoric, ‘red’ groups had significant numbers of female members including, at senior levels, people like the Weather’s Bernardine Dohrn, the Red Brigades’ Margherita Cagol and Susanna Ronconi, the Red Army Faction’s Ulrike Meinhof and Gudrun Esslin, and Shigenobu Fusako from the Japanese Red Army. Nonetheless, women were generally under-represented in leadership roles amidst reports of machismo, sexism and patronising behaviour within the groups. There is little or no involvement of women within militant Islamic transnational, American racialist and Northern Irish loyalist groups, reflecting prominent patriarchal views. Within nationalist groups like the IRA, Hamas and PIJ, the involvement of women is more obvious. In Northern Ireland, there have been renowned female paramilitaries and women were heavily involved in key events like the dirty protest (Coogan, 2002). Overall though, women generally have been considered, and depicted, in more supportive roles, marginalised from engagement within political violence. By comparison to the transnational militancy of al-Qa’ida-related groups, women have been actively engaged within Islamic Palestinian groups, most notably undertaking acts of suicide/martyrdom. However, this involvement is motivated by group pragmatism, in particular the lower levels of suspicion of women that can be utilised. Gender egalitarianism is not included within these militants’ discourse. The Future for Terrorism and Studies of Terrorism A number of issues raised during the preceding text require further investigation. Terrorism in the short term seems likely to be dominated by actions or alleged plans by Islamic militants that are too easily generalised under the umbrella of al-Qa’ida. 12 Even within academic literature, discussions of female terror group members are often accompanied by a description of their appearances and sexuality. It is possible to read about Gudrun ‘the blond bombshell’ Esslin, ‘attractive’ Ulrike Meinhof, Shigenobu ‘the lustful “Red Queen”’ Fusako and Leila Khaled, the ‘deadly beauty.’ Descriptions of female Palestinian bombers/martyrs also frequently include analysis of their physical appearance.

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This approach overlooks important distinctions between, for example, nationalist and transnational formations, outlined in the comparison between Hamas and alQa’ida. Burke (2006) also points out that the Western obsession with al-Qa’ida enables countries like Algeria, Uzbekistan, the Philippines and Russia to attribute long-running conflicts to al-Qa’ida. By utilising the West’s blanket approach to Islamic militancy, these countries secure diplomatic, military and financial aid while simultaneously obscuring the underlying causes of the groups’ radicalism and concerns with local issues, namely corruption, repression and government nepotism and mismanagement. It is also important to stress that terror groups continue to operate within many other parts of the world which do not directly threaten the West and have not attracted the extensive interest aroused by groups associated with al-Qa’ida. Consequently, relatively little is known about a range of groups like the nationalist Kurdish KongraGel (formerly PKK), the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam based in Sri Lanka and the secessionist United Liberation Front of Assam, left-wing groups like the Turkish Revolutionary People’s Liberation Party/Front (DHKP/C), the Filipino Alex Boncayao Brigade, the Peruvian Shining Path and the Tupac Amaru Revolutionary Movement. Colombia is a nation-state facing considerable threat from terrorism. A multitude of groups from different ends of the ideological spectrum operate, such as the National Liberation Army (NLA), and the right-wing United Self-Defense Forces of Colombia which formed to defend the nation-state from left-wing groups like the NLA, but increasingly is associated with crime. To gain a fuller understanding of terrorism, more research has to be undertaken into these areas. Further investigation is also required into terrorism as a process that entails a beginning, development phase and conclusion. This book has concentrated upon the processes and interactions through which people join groups. Information about processes is available, but often after the perpetrator has been rehabilitated. Thousands of alleged and convicted ‘terrorists’ remain isolated by governments, with access forbidden to academics, and a vast resource for enhancing levels of knowledge and understanding is grossly under-utilised. Other parts in the process also need in-depth investigation. Bjørgo (2005) and Horgan (2005) have identified that the reasons for individuals joining groups are often very different from those associated with remaining involved. This developmental phase is under-researched. Without this knowledge, it is impossible to establish if the resolution of the causes behind the emergence of the organisation would also result in the dissolution of groups which may be sustained by other factors. Leaving the group is, of course, the final stage. But, as Horgan (2005) and Reich (1998) have identified, the reasons why people leave terror groups is also under-investigated. Yet knowing more about what motivates people to leave can help develop policies that encourage this outcome. Non-government groups have been the focus of this book. But if terrorism is to be fully understood, studies have to acknowledge that the practices and processes employed share important attributes with other social roles. For example, it can be argued that there are a number of commonalities with state employers who are responsible for the deaths of civilians, or ‘collateral damage’. Consequently, it would be of tremendous interest to compare the socialising processes of recognised ‘terrorists’ and their support networks with soldiers, air force pilots and military


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computer operators, and the methods of legitimisation employed by their respective governments to justify the acts of violence which they commit. This would help further establish the extent to which ‘terrorists’ are indeed different. Finally, terrorism can be seen to be linked to change, yet through globalisation, societies are in a state of constant flux. Factors like political repression, historical precedents, ethnic identity, political exclusion, social injustice and personal encounters are also linked to these forms of violence. Causes of terrorism are therefore a heterogeneous interaction of personal and social experiences, local and global relations and the past, present and visions for the future. This complexity makes it impossible to be able to predict all forms of terror activity or prevent the formation of groups. Ironically, one of the most accurate predictions is that many forms of counter-terrorism encourage further terrorism, particularly when using methods that contradict the standards that are being defended. But by understanding the myriad of pathways into (and out of) terrorism, we can begin to explain the causes for diverse nationalist groups like the IRA, the UVF and Hamas, religious organisations like al-Qa’ida and Aum Supreme Truth and political extremists like the ‘red’ and racialist groups in the West. This would not be to condone terrorism. It would, however, require politicians and academics to extend their focus beyond the means by which terror groups operate and their outcomes. In other words, much greater attention is required upon gaining information about the causes and appeal of terrorism. Without a more sophisticated level of understanding, counter-terrorism in the West will remain a blunt instrument which increasingly infringes on the civil liberties of its citizens and contributes to the very phenomena which it is designed to defeat.


Glossary Al-Aqsa Brigade: Palestinian terror group which is linked to the dominant secular Fatah Party and emerged during the second intifada. Al-Qa’ida: ‘The base’. Loose association of militant Muslims associated with Osama bin Laden. Aryan Nations: A racialist group established in the mid 1970s by Richard Butler which integrates racism and Christian Identity philosophy. Aum Supreme Truth: ‘Aum Shinrikyō’. Japanese religious cult led by Shoko Asahara. Christian Identity: Adaptation by American racialists of Anglo-Israelism. Aryans are considered to be the chosen people. Dar al-Harb: ‘House of war’. Dar al-Islam: ‘House of Islam’. Dar al-Kufr: ‘Land of impiety’. The opposite of dar al-Islam. Deobandi: Muslim conservative movement which originated in the nineteenth century on the Indian subcontinent. Fatwa: Religious legal edict based on Islamic holy texts. Front Line: ‘Prima Linea’. Left-wing terror group which was active between 1976 and 1980. Hamas: Palestinian Islamic terror group formed in the 1980s with strong links to the Muslim Brotherhood. Hamas means ‘enthusiasm’ or ‘zeal’ and is also the acronym for Harawat al-Muqawama al-’Islamiyya (the Islamic Resistance Movement). Terror activities are usually undertaken by the group’s military wing, the al-Qassam Brigades. Hezbollah: ‘Party of God’. Prominent in Lebanon. Imam: ‘Leader’ (of the prayers) of the Muslim community. Shi’a Muslims believe that the term refers to the Prophet’s descendants, who are the true Muslim leaders.

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INLA: Irish National Liberation Army. Formed in 1975. A republican paramilitary group which split from the IRA. Intifada: ‘Uprising’. The term is best known for the Palestinian uprisings in 1987 and 2000. IPLO: Irish People’s Liberation Organisation. Republican paramilitary group formed in 1987 following a split within the INLA. Japanese Red Army: Extreme left-wing group led by Shigenobu Fusako which was based in Lebanon. Disbanded in 2001. Jihad: ‘Struggle’, ‘effort’ or ‘striving’. There are two forms of jihad: the greater jihad emphasises individuals striving to improve their own religiosity; the lesser jihad is often referred to as Holy War. 2 June Movement: West German militant group led by Bommi Baumann. Formed in 1971 and disbanded in the 1980s. LVF: Loyalist Volunteer Force. Northern Irish loyalist paramilitary group formed in 1996, comprising former members of the UDA and UVF who were disaffected with the ceasefire. Led by Billy ‘King Rat’ Wright, who was killed in 1997. Militias: Organised groups of armed citizens. Prominent in America and associated with the Patriot movement. NICRA: Northern Ireland Civil Rights Association, which was inspired by other civil rights groups, particularly in America, during the 1960s. Official IRA: Name given to the IRA after the organisation split into two groups in 1970. The ‘Officials’ concentrated more upon Marxist ideology. See also Provisional IRA. Order, The: An American neo-Nazi group formed by Robert Mathews in 1983. Also known as the Silent Brotherhood. PIJ: Palestinian Islamic Jihad. Islamic terror group formed out of the Muslim Brotherhood in 1980. Provisional IRA: Dominant republican paramilitary group. Formed out of the IRA at the commencement of the ‘Troubles’ in 1970. Also known as the Provos. Qu’ran: ‘Recitation’. Sacred book of Islam. Red Army Faction: West German left-wing terror group which operated during 1970s and 1980s. Also known as the Baader-Meinhof gang after two of the leading members, Andreas Baader and Ulrike Meinhof, who died in prison.

Glossary

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Red Brigades: Left-wing terror groups that were prominent in Italy during the 1970s and 1980s. Salafist: Originally a movement founded in the late nineteenth century which revered the ‘pious ancestors’. From the 1970s, it has been associated with conservative Islam in the Arabian peninsula. Shari’ah: Devinely sanctioned Islamic law. Shi’a: Islamic ‘faction’ which emerged during conflict over the succession to the Prophet Muhammed. Followers, the shi’ites, are estimated to constitute 10–15 per cent of Muslims. Numerically dominant in Azerbaijan, Iran and Iraq. Sinn Féin: Meaning ‘We Ourselves’. Founded in 1905. Political party and wing of the Provisional IRA. Sunni: ‘Tradition’, often referred to as orthodox. The other sect within Islam following the conflict with shi’ites. Followers are estimated at between 85 and 90 per cent of Muslims. Symbionese Liberation Army: Left-wing group which operated in America between 1973 and 1975. UDA: Ulster Defence Association. Northern Irish paramilitary loyalist group that brought together the different defence associations which had formed in the late 1960s. UFF: Ulster Freedom Fighters. Emerged in 1973 as the UDA’s military wing. UVF: Ulster Volunteer Force. Northern Irish paramilitary loyalist group formed in 1966 and named after the previous UVF, led by Edward Carson, which had defended the Union. Ulema: A man of learning who is a Muslim religious figure. A loose equivalent of the Christian clergy. Ummah: Islamic nation or community of believers. Wahhabism: Conservative doctrine associated with followers of ibn Abdul alWahhab (1703–87). The official ideology of the state of Saudi Arabia. The Weather: American left-wing militant group which formed in 1970 out of the Students for a Democratic Society. Previously known as the Weathermen and Weather Underground.


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Index

Abu-Amr, Z. 20, 25, 31-3, 36-7 Abuza, Z. 55, 58 Adams, G. 79, 90-2, 94-5, 161 Afghanistan 33, 45-6, 48-54, 56, 58, 60-3, 65-7, 156 Al Aqsa Brigades 17, 39, 169 Aldo Moro 11, 104 Algeria 11, 20, 30, 50, 61, 63, 66, 166 Al-Qa’ida and associated groups 1, 6, 10-11, 14-5, 17-8, 20-21, 23-5, 45-53, 55, 58-9, 61, 64-70, 151-2, 154-5, 1627, 169 Al-Rantisi, A. 20, 24, 30 Al-Zawahiri, A. 20, 24, 46-7, 49, 57, 64-5, 67 America see United States of America Anti-Semitism 34, 131-3, 152 Arafat, Y. 29-30, 32, 38 Aryan Nations 132, 134, 140-41, 169 Atran, S. 20, 26, 59 Aum Supreme Truth 3, 14-5, 152, 155, 158, 160-64, 167, 169 Aust, S. 115-6, 119 Ayers, B. 127-8

Burke, J. 13, 45, 48-52, 56-7, 61-2, 64, 166 Bush, G.W. 19, 131, 146-8 Bushart, H. et al. 131-2, 134, 140-141 Butler, R. 134, 141, 169

Baader, A. 114-5, 118, 170 Baader-Meinhof Gang see Red Army Faction Bali see Indonesia Banna, H. 24, 57 Barkun, M. 129, 139, 147-8 Baumann, B. 114, 119, 170 Becker, J. 113, 118-120 Bin Laden 20, 24, 45-6, 48-51, 54, 56-7, 647, 70, 156, 169 Bishop, P. and Mallie, E. 72-4, 80, 82, 86-7, 89, 92, 96 Bloom, M. 1, 5, 19, 38, 69, 155 Bougereau, J. 116-9 Braungart, R. and Braungart, M. 126-7 British army 71, 74, 78-80, 83, 87-9, 95 Bruce, S. 13, 71-8, 80, 83, 85-6, 88, 91-2, 94, 96 Burdman, D. 35-7, 40

Egypt 1, 19-20, 23, 24, 27-8, 31, 47, 51, 54, 57, 59-60, 65-6, 154 England 1, 3, 46, 57, 59-62, 64, 67-8, 72-3, 83, 161 Esposito, J. 25, 33, 37-38, 49, 53, 55 Esslin, G. 113-4, 116, 118, 165

Christian Identity 129, 131-2, 140, 169 Coogan, T. 72-4, 76, 80-82, 84, 92, 165 Connolly, P. and Healy, J. 6, 74, 88-90, 93-4, 161 Coulter, C. 80, 82, 84-7, 90, 93-4 Crawford, C. 72, 80-81, 88-9, 91-6 Crenshaw, M. 5, 13, 154 Crothers, L. 130-131, 133, 138-140 Curcio, R. 107-8, 110 Cusack, H. and McDonald, J. 72, 74, 81, 91, 96 Davis, J. 19, 38, 40, 45 Dees, M. 132, 135-7, 139, 143, 145 Della Porta, D. 1, 12, 105-6, 109-110, 113, 115-6, 120, 122, 156, 162 Dobratz, B. and Shanks-Meile, S. 132, 134, 138, 140, 143 Dohrn, B. 127, 165

Faranda, A. 107, 109, 162 Farrell, W. 121-2 Fascism 12, 102, 106-7, 113, 115-6, 123, 126, 156 Fatah Party 17, 28, 30, 35, 42-3, 169 Flynn, K. and Gerhardt, G. 141-3 Front Line 102, 104-5, 169 Gaza 25-30, 33, 35, 39-40, 43 see also Palestinian territories Gerges, F. 52, 55-56, 58, 62, 65 Germany see also Red Army Faction 1, 10, 12, 14-15, 26, 59, 91, 99-100, 103,

196


111-117, 121-3, 125, 152, 155, 158, 163-4 Gurr, T. 7, 20 Hafez, M. 20, 22, 66 Halliday, F. 30, 73, 86 Hamas 10, 14, 17-8, 20, 23-6, 28, 30, 32-39, 41-3, 45, 66, 68-9, 153-4, 157, 159, 162-7, 169 Hassan, N. 5, 38, 41 Hegghammer, T. 52, 56-58, 60-61, 64 Hezbollah 18, 33, 45, 169 Hoffman, B. 1, 8, 11, 14, 20, 26, 47, 51, 59, 129, 131-2, 141, 154, 162-3 Horgan, J. 3-4, 6, 8, 13, 157, 162, 166 Hudson, R. 6-8, 14, 152, 162 Hunger strike 72, 82-3, 87-88, 94, 115, 117, 120 Ibn Taymiyya 24, 47-8, 50 Indonesia 1, 55, 59-60, 63-4, 161 Iranian Revolution 19, 22, 33, 65 Iraq 27-28, 31, 46, 50-52, 57, 60, 62-64, 67, 147, 154, 161, 164, 171 Irish Republican Army (IRA) 5, 10, 15, 72, 74-84, 91-2, 94-7, 113, 154, 157, 159, 161-3, 165, 167, 170-71 see also republican Islamic Jihad, Palestinian PIJ 14, 17-8, 20, 25, 28, 32, 35, 41-2, 45, 68, 153, 163-5, 170 Israel 8, 12, 20, 25-33, 35-42, 45, 47, 65, 132, 138, 147, 153, 155, 157 Italy 1, 10, 12, 14-5, 63, 99-112, 114, 116, 119-123, 125, 152, 155-6, 158-9, 163-4, 171 see also Front Line and Red Brigades Jacobs, R. 125-8 Japan 3, 7, 12, 14-5, 99, 103, 112, 116, 1213, 125-7, 152-6, 158, 163-4 see also Aum Supreme Truth and Japanese Red Army Japanese Red Army (JRA) 10, 121, 128, 154, 161, 165, 170 Jamieson, A. 101-103, 107-109, 162 Jihad 24-5, 33-4, 36, 41, 46, 48-54, 58-62, 64, 67-8, 170 Juergensmeyer, M. 1, 33, 38, 141 Karl, J. 131-2, 138-9

Kepel, G. 6, 19, 25, 31-3, 46-7, 49-51, 54-6, 58, 61, 63, 68 Khaled, L. 38, 165 Khosrokhavar, F. 19, 30, 42, 58, 69 Kronenwetter, M. 129-130, 136, 140, 142 Krueger, A. and Malecková, J. 8, 38-9 Ku Klux Klan (KKK) 129-130, 134, 146 Laqueur, W. 1, 4, 162 Levitas, D. 136, 138-9, 141-3 London bombings see England Loyalist (Northern Ireland) 1, 5, 12, 15, 71-2, 74, 76-81, 83, 85-9, 91-7, 153, 155-6, 158-9, 161, 165, 170-71 see also LVF, UDA, UFF, UVF Loyalist Volunteer Force LVF 14, 72, 170 Lumley, R. 100-102, 111 MacDonald, E. 1, 34-35, 38, 40, 77, 91-2, 95, 105, 108-9, 112, 114-8 McDonald, J. and Cusack, H. 72, 77-8, 81, 86, 89-92, 96-7 McVeigh, T. 3, 15, 128, 136-7, 140-142, 144-6, 149, 153, 157-8, 160 Madrid bombings see Spain Marranci, G. 48, 61-2 Mathews, R. 136-8, 141-3, 145-6, 149, 158, 170 Mawdudi, M. 24, 47 Meinhof, U. 116, 118, 120, 158, 165, 170 Michel, L. and Herbeck, D. 3, 137, 141, 144-6, 153 Militia (United States) 5, 14, 125, 128-9, 131-3, 135-140, 142, 145-6, 148-9, 152-3, 155-7, 170 Moloney, E. 72-4, 76, 78, 80, 82, 85 Mulloy, D. 131, 136, 140 Muslim Brotherhood 23, 25, 32, 34, 49, 158, 169-170 Nationalist 2, 5, 10, 14, 17-8, 27, 31-2, 37, 45, 53, 68, 71, 74-5, 77, 79-80, 82-8, 90-3, 130, 148, 151, 153-5, 159, 161-3, 165-7 Neidhardt, F. 114, 118-9, 158 Northern Ireland 1, 5-6, 14-5, 71-2, 75-7, 81-7, 89-90, 92-7, 151, 153, 155-8, 160, 163, 165, 170 see also IRA, loyalist, LVF, nationalist, republican, unionist, UDA, UFF, UVF Novaro, C. 108-110

Index Oklahoma bombing 3, 128, 131, 135, 137, 141, 144-8, 160 Oliver, A-M and Steinberg, P. 19, 28-9, 336, 38, 40 Oliverio, A. 3, 10 Oliverio, A. and Lauderdale, P. 2, 165 Order, The 130, 136, 140, 142-3, 155, 161 Pakistan 19, 47, 51, 53, 59, 61-3 Palestinian territories 14, 26-7, 30, 37-8, 51-2, 59, 66, 68, 151, 153, 155-8, 163-4 see also al-Aqsa Brigades, Hamas, PIJ Patriot movement 128-133, 138, 142-4, 146, 149, 170 Pierce, W. 134-135, 139-140, 143, 146 Pisano, V. 99-101, 103 Post, J. 4, 7, 60, 159, 162 Post, J. Sprinzak, E. and Denny, L. 34, 3741, 60, 153 Proll, A. 112, 116-7 Qutb, S. 24, 47, 57, 66 Qu’ran 21-22, 170 Racism 60-61, 70, 126-7, 129-133, 142, 144, 152, 169 Rapoport, D. 1-2, 14, 162 Rasch, W. 5, 112-3 Rashid, A. 20, 22, 48-9, 54 Reader, I. 153, 155 Red Army Faction (RAF) 1, 5, 112, 114-9, 154, 158-9, 161, 165, 170 Red Brigades 10, 102-8, 110, 115, 151, 154, 159, 161-2, 165, 171 Red Terror 10, 15, 99, 102-4, 106-9, 116, 120, 123, 125, 149, 152, 155-7, 159 see also Front Line, Japanese Red Army, Red Army Faction, Red Brigades, The Weather Reich, W. 4, 166 Republican (Northern Ireland) 1, 5, 12, 15, 71-2, 74, 77-89, 91-6, 155-6, 158-9, 163, 170 see also IRA Reuter, C. 1, 5-6, 18, 32-3, 38-41, 56, 69 Ronconi, S. 105, 109, 154, 165 Roy, O. 7, 19-20, 33, 69, 163 Ruby Ridge 138-9, 145-6 Sageman, M. 6, 20, 51, 55-7, 59-61, 66-7, 157 Saikal, A. 17-18, 30, 32, 53

197

Saudi Arabia 1, 19, 21, 45-7, 49-52, 54-7, 59, 61-5, 67, 70, 171 September, 11 2001 1, 2, 5-6, 11, 45, 47, 51, 59, 69 Serrano, R. 3, 141, 144-6 Shari’ah 23-24, 54, 65, 152, 171 Shi’ite 17-18, 171 Silent Brotherhood see Order, The Silj, A. 102-103, 106-110, 158 Silke, A. 5, 41, 154, 157-8 Sinn Féin 74, 78-9, 84, 92, 95, 159, 171 see also republican Spain 1, 28, 46, 59-61, 73 Sprinzak, E. 126-7 Soviet Union 33, 45-6, 53, 104, 156 Sunni 17-18, 21, 33, 65, 171 Sutton, P and Vertigans, S. 18, 20, 42, 46, 56, 69 Tamimi, A. 18, 20, 25, 28-9, 31, 33-5, 37-8 Tarrow, S. 7, 101-2 Taylor, M. and Quayle, E. 4-5, 91, 159, 162 Taylor, P. 1, 5, 13, 72, 74, 77-81, 83, 88, 91-2, 95-6 Tilly, C. 7-8, 42 Toolis, K. 71-72, 77, 80, 82, 85, 87, 90, 92, 95-6 Turner Diaries, The 135, 140, 145, 160 Ummah 18, 21, 23, 46-7, 65, 171 United Nations 27, 133, 144-5 United States of America 1, 7, 9-12, 14-5, 21, 24, 27-30, 36, 45-8, 50-2, 54, 57, 59-60, 63-4, 66, 70, 99, 106, 114, 121-2, 126, 131-2, 134, 137, 146, 149, 152, 160-1, 164 Unionist (Northern Ireland) 71, 74-8, 80-1, 83-7, 90, 93 Ulster Defence Association (UDA) 72, 77, 80, 83, 86, 88-9, 92, 96-7, 170-1 Ulster Freedom Fighters (UFF) 14-5, 22, 72, 77, 96, 154, 171 Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) 14-5, 72, 74, 76-7, 80-1, 83-4, 86, 91-2, 96-7, 154, 157, 162, 167, 170-1 Van Dyke, N. and Soule, S. 128, 131, 133, 137 Varon, J. 1, 112, 114-7, 119, 125-8 Vertigans, S. 10, 18, 20, 23, 41, 53-5 Victor, B. 5, 13, 19, 33-4, 36, 38-42, 68-9

198


Vietnam 10, 105, 111, 114-5, 120-2, 126-8, 137, 147, 149, 164 Waco 138-9, 141, 145-6 War on terror 17, 45, 66, 70 Wasmund, K. 113-4, 118-9 Weather, The 1, 15, 125-8, 154, 165, 171 Weather Underground see the Weather Weathermen see the Weather

Weinberg, L. and Eubank, W. 12, 100-101, 103-4, 106-7, 109-111 West Bank see also Palestinian territories 25-31, 33, 43, 155 West Germany see Germany Yassin, A. 20, 30, 35, 38 Zionist 26, 36, 46, 133, 136, 139

Terrorism and Societies

Terrorism and International Law

Terrorism and Collective Responsibility

Terrorism and Global Security

Terrorism: Origins and Evolution

Domestic Terrorism (Roots of Terrorism)

Secret Societies

Secret Societies

Nonkilling Societies

Lithic Materials and Paleolithic Societies

Secret Societies

Landscapes and Societies: Selected Cases

Deliberative Democracy and Divided Societies

Deliberative Democracy and Divided Societies

Deliberative Democracy and Divided Societies

Dolphin societies: discoveries and puzzles

Secret Societies and Subversive Movements

Space Weather, Environment and Societies

Contemporary State Terrorism: Theory and Practice (Routledge Critical Terrorism Studies)

The War on Terrorism: A Collision of Values, Strategies, and Societies

What Is Terrorism? (The Roots of Terrorism)

Lucent Terrorism Library - The History of Terrorism

Terrorism (Disasters)

Inside Terrorism

Global Terrorism

Glorifying Terrorism

Discouraging Terrorism

Challenges of Religion and Terrorism

Terrorism and Security (Global Connections)

Maritime Terrorism: Risk and Liability

Will Terrorism End? (Roots of Terrorism)

Terrorism and Societies

Terrorism and International Law

Terrorism and Collective Responsibility

Terrorism and Global Security

Terrorism: Origins and Evolution

Domestic Terrorism (Roots of Terrorism)

Secret Societies

Secret Societies

Nonkilling Societies

Lithic Materials and Paleolithic Societies

Secret Societies

Landscapes and Societies: Selected Cases

Deliberative Democracy and Divided Societies

Deliberative Democracy and Divided Societies

Deliberative Democracy and Divided Societies

Dolphin societies: discoveries and puzzles

Secret Societies and Subversive Movements

Space Weather, Environment and Societies

Contemporary State Terrorism: Theory and Practice (Routledge Critical Terrorism Studies)

The War on Terrorism: A Collision of Values, Strategies, and Societies

What Is Terrorism? (The Roots of Terrorism)

Lucent Terrorism Library - The History of Terrorism

Terrorism (Disasters)

Inside Terrorism

Global Terrorism

Glorifying Terrorism

Discouraging Terrorism

Challenges of Religion and Terrorism

Terrorism and Security (Global Connections)

Maritime Terrorism: Risk and Liability

Will Terrorism End? (Roots of Terrorism)

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