After 9/11 — addressing ‘war on terror’ policy failures, at home and abroad

Numerous articles and commentaries will be written on the events of 9/11 and the implications raised for how we think about extremism and radicalisation today. Adding to the discussion in this area, I take the opportunity to provide a personal and professional reflection on the ‘war on terror’, and to explore where we are today in terms of the ongoing challenges relating to global north foreign policy and the ramifications this has in terms of Muslim world disintegration and fragmentation, and the impact it has on European Sunni jihadism. I reflect on the circular nature of foreign policy and domestic radicalisation, and what we might be able to do about it all going forward.

On the morning of Tuesday 11 September 11 2001, as I watched the planes hit the Twin Towers live on TV news, at the time away from London and my desk at the Home Office in Whitehall, I immediately realised that a whole host of urgent issues were going to become even more urgent. At the time, Islamophobia had already established itself. The Rushdie Affair at the tail end of the 1980s placed attention on British Muslim communities and the supposed risks in relation to their incorporation into society. Until then, integration had largely focused on the idea of minorities adhering to the laws of the country in which they reside while the states is responsible for all their citizens, including the acceptance and recognition of issues of faith, ethnicity, identity and the challenges of being a minority in a country that built its success on exploitation, appropriation and colonisation. After the events of the Rushdie Affair, there was a perceptible sense that Muslims posed a particular threat, not just for integration but also for the wider issues of security, such that without assimilationist incorporation into society the alternative was a risk of Islamist extremism. This approach built on existing Islamophobic tropes, but by the mid-1990s and the emergence of Taliban in Afghanistan, a much wider global Islamophobia in relation to the demonisation of this group but also the idea that intervention was necessary based on humanitarian needs and the importance of building democracy and gender equality in such societies was carefully being put forward. The Bosnian War and the ensuing refugee crisis it created also made Islamophobia far more local for many European Muslims.

On matters of engagement with the Muslim world, in the 1980s western allies joined the fight against the Soviets who were making a last-ditch attempt to sustain the idea that they were still an Empire. In effect, the 1980s war on Afghanistan led to the dismantling of the USSR. Afghan mujahedeen were logistically and financially supported by American and other western government intelligence, training and military hardware. But by the end of the 1980s, as the west left, the Afghans were effectively on their own, with no more obvious fights to fight. The conflict in Afghanistan turned inwards, out of which emerged the Taliban, which subsequently became further radicalised with the emergence of Al-Qaeda in the country. The latter was able to orchestrate significant terrorist attacks in 1998 in Sudan and off the coast of Aden in Yemen, with both targets being US infrastructure, namely and political and military. By the time of the events of 9/11, foreign policy had already had a hand in establishing, maintaining and fighting against Sunni-Jihadi groups across the Middle East and South Asia.

As Islamophobia became a well-accepted term in academia and among communities, it is no surprise that the events of 9/11 increased Islamophobia, with foreign policy interventions continuing to maintain support for Sunni Jihadi groups at the behest of western government interests in those particular regions.

In terms of the effects of Islamophobia on radicalisation and vicve-versa, both issues were accentuated, not helped by various internal developments within in the US or the UK, where the policy of advocating a positive image of Islam was expected to be led by prominent British and American Muslims to project to the Muslim world that this ‘war on terror’ is not a war on Islam and that, indeed, European and American Muslims are an important part of the citizenry of the nations. For the Muslims inculcated into these programmes, theirs was a challenge of providing a balance between those who would decry foreign policy and failed integration as a source of radicalisation and those who would project Islam itself for being out of touch with today’s needs, with many calls at the time for a reformation of the religion in the same way that Christianity experienced its own five hundred years ago. This policy included the promotion of former extremists and terrorists in the pursuit of preventing and countering violent extremism policy initiatives. However, it had a detrimental impact on state-Muslim relations. Already existing low levels of social and political trust were deepened by the cynical ploy of policy seeking to change the narrative. But it also had the effect of distancing governments from their policies at home and abroad, with the wrath among everyday Muslim communities directed towards former extremists who were as vociferous and exuberant in their campaigning and advocacy to highlight the dangers of Islamist extremism as they were in emphasising the importance of it before their damascene conversion.

The global north engaged in rapid interventions in response to the events of 9/11, first in Afghanistan and shortly afterwards in Iraq, with the expectations that the silent majority of moderate Muslims within these countries would buy into the rhetoric. Utterances such as ‘moderate Muslims are with us’, while ‘extremism Muslims are against us’ had the effect of sharpening divisions internally. It also led to further attempts by the state to co-opt voices ready to affirm this position, with these pronunciations important in separating ‘good Muslims’ and ‘bad Muslims’. The reality was that it divided European and American Muslims further, preventing individuals and groups from organising collective responses. It also internalised the view among disaffected, angry Muslims that their voices were not considered and that by expressing them they too would be viewed as extremist. The approaches taken had the very impact of creating the discord while pushing existing marginalised voices even further to the periphery so that they would be beyond the realm of existing established Muslim communities to understand, detect or oversee. This Islamophobia divided Muslim communities from within, creating the potential for more radicalisation, not less.

While there was a clear and open attempt to fight against the threat of Sunni-Jihadist extremism, at the same time western governments were also arming, supporting and facilitating various militant organisations. Most recently, in the case of Sunni rebel groups that were armed by western powers to fight against the Assad regime, which ultimately morphed into what became known as the Islamic State.

With all this now a reference point in a historical overview, what happens next in terms of questions relating to this Islamophobia and radicalisation, whether it is in the Muslim world or the global north, is important to address. Increasingly, policymakers are understanding the importance of wider factors that lead to radicalisation, including social exclusion, political polarisation and socio-economic inequalities — issues that have been talked about considerably but not fully appreciated by policymakers with short-term agendas. There is a real understanding that the current terror threat is not from Islamist groups but indeed from far right extremists who are far more likely to be engaged in plots, planning and mobilising extremism than Islamists are today. The fact that security, policing and intelligence services have focused much of their attention and resources on Islamist extremism has meant that it is only in recent periods that the far-right has become of note. Arguably, much of the motivation for many far-right and radical right groups and organisations is based on an anti-Muslim sentiment, which is created by the wider political imagination of western nation-states in the current period. Simply put, Islamophobia is normal, which has made radicalisation equally as normal, and not just among Islamist groups but also among others who see their actions as a form of counter-jihad, for example.

The Biden administration has understood the importance of domestic extremism in relation to the countering violent extremism strategy of the USA. The same is also occurring in the UK, where the intelligence services have taken over the police’s responsibilities in relation to fighting far-right crime, such is the scale of this threat. Nevertheless, the everyday reality for most Muslims is one of struggle and strife, and this continues without much attention being paid to the material, lived realities of individuals and communities almost always on the wrong side of history. With a constant focus on religion and the idea of somehow manoeuvring religious values to shift attitudes towards extremism, it has the impact of reducing trust and engagement, which is the precise opposite of the intended goals of this approach. There is also far too much decision-making and planning carried out in political centres rather than attention being paid to the lessons learnt from local actors engaged in local problems and local solutions. There is also the problematic reality of when prominent global north Muslims speak out on Islamophobia, racism and the impact of the ‘war on terror’, there is a tendency among some to treat these perspectives with suspicion, such that it is not possible to fully accept Muslim criticisms of anti-Muslim behaviour because there is likely to be some kind of agenda. This is also a reflection of Islamophobia. When non-Muslims speak out against Islamophobia, their voices are considered far more favourably. While this is a welcome space, it is indicative of some of the numerous challenges that continue to face Muslims voices across the globe.

To move forward, there is a need to focus on the domestic sphere in terms of integration, equality and diversity to build social trust and engagement, facilitating a sense of civic nationalism, which reflects on the idea of a nation as a whole, and where race and racialisation are challenged throughout given the importance of it historically and its ongoing impact on polarisation and social divisions. Honest governmentality based on rigorous independent research and evaluation is the key, but every indication in the current periods suggests that we are far removed from such a perspective. Indeed, in the UK context, experts are derived, enquiries into racial disparities are fudged, critical voices are removed or silenced, and a short-termist, self-selecting, elitist and conservative, and consequently classed and exclusive, perspectives have taken hold. The effects of the current pandemic have revealed the ugly truth of societal inequities, with the UK especially exposed to the weak social, physical and economic infrastructure that divides society. The effects of the pandemic will continue to be felt for some time but what emerges out of the other side needs to be indicative of a braver new future. One that is not reliant on constant economic growth and zero-sum gaming. But rather a future that focuses on the needs of the planet and societies as one. For this, a great deal of imagination and a sustained degree of effort is necessary. The world is watching!