The politicisation of the Civil Service has been debated for decades.
The following essay was originally submitted as an assignment for my university and was graded as a 2:1.
In March 2023, Conservative Party supporters received an email, signed by then-Home Secretary Suella Braverman, accusing civil servants of blocking attempts at stopping small boat crossings as part of a left-wing “activist blob”. Braverman later denied she sent the email after being accused of breaking the Ministerial Code for failing to uphold the political impartiality of the Civil Service (Wheeler, 2023). Regardless of whether she is guilty or not, the event evokes an ongoing debate surrounding the Civil Service: should the Civil Service be politicised?
In this essay, I draw upon my undergraduate studies in Policy, Politics and Economics and my personal experience as a student intern with the Department for Business and Trade (DBT) to argue in favour of impartiality. First, I begin by expanding upon the meaning of the term ‘politicisation’ and what it means to politicise the Civil Service. Following this, I explain why an impartial Civil Service benefits British society. Next, I consider the legitimate concerns of those advocating for the Civil Service’s politicisation, proposing special advisors as an avenue for reform. To conclude, I summarise the key arguments made throughout this essay.
What is ‘Politicisation’?
In political science, the term ‘politicisation’ refers to the process of promoting a particular issue from the realm of necessity (non-political) to the realm of contingency and deliberation (political) (Hay, 2007, pp. 78-87). In other words, politicisation is the opening up of issues to political debate, influence or practice, thereby making previously unpolitical issues political. Thus, the more politicised an issue, the more people participate in its debate, and the more its positions are polarised (Zürn, 2019).
When discussing politicisation in liberal democracies, government institutions can be broadly divided into two categories: majoritarian (politicised) and non-majoritarian (impartial) (Majone, 2001; Thatcher & Sweet, 2002). Majoritarian institutions, such as Parliament, are those representing the will of the majority and whose agents are usually publicly elected by popular vote. As such, their agents are subject to short-term political considerations, utilising political rhetoric to maintain their position in government. On the other hand, non-majoritarian institutions, such as the Civil Service, are those exercising specialised public authority and whose agents are neither publicly elected nor directly managed by elected officials. As such, their agents are subject to long-term policy considerations, tending towards moderation and compromise.
When we discuss the politicisation of the Civil Service, we are referring to an increase in Parliament’s control over the Civil Service’s operations and an increase in political activity and bias from civil servants. In a practical sense, this would involve ministers having the power to appoint the civil servants who work under them, inevitably choosing individuals with overt political affiliations to the ruling party. In other words, turning the Civil Service from a non-majoritarian institution based on merit into a majoritarian institution based on patronage. Doing so would lead to the increased politicisation of public policymaking, which up until now has followed a pragmatic, moderate approach informed by professional expertise as opposed to political ideology.
Why Impartiality Serves the British Public
Impartiality is listed as one of the Civil Service’s core values, alongside honesty, integrity and objectivity. According to The Civil Service Code, impartiality is “acting solely according to the merits of the case and serving equally well governments of different political persuasions” (Civil Service, 2010). To maintain impartiality, civil servants are restricted from participating in political activities without the prior consent of their respective departments. Furthermore, certain civil servants, such as senior officials and those on the Civil Service Fast Stream, are barred from participating in national political activities altogether (Civil Service, 2016).
It is evident from official Civil Service guidelines that, at least in theory, civil servants are required to remain politically impartial. Whether this is indeed the case in practice lies beyond the scope of this essay, especially when you consider the myriad of definitions for what counts as ‘politics’ (Hay, 2007, pp. 61-65). Instead, this essay focuses on the rationale behind the Civil Service’s normative emphasis on impartiality rather than its empirical practice of impartiality. That said, having spent a week working with DBT, I can attest it was highly discouraged and frowned upon to have any kind of political discussions in the workplace, more so than anywhere else I have worked. Many of the civil servants I spoke to expressed frustration with having their political expression restricted. Politicising the Civil Service may ease this frustration, but will it be conducive to the betterment of British society?
To understand why the Civil Service emphasises political impartiality, we must familiarise ourselves with the institution’s history. In 1806, the East India Company established the East India College in Haileybury, taking inspiration from imperial China’s examination system to train administrators to serve in India. Over the next few decades, a similar examination system was called for by members of Parliament to replace the old patronage system used to appoint civil servants, culminating in the 1854 Northcote-Trevelyan Reporton the Organisation of the Permanent Civil Service. The report used the East India Company as a model to advocate for a unified and impartial civil service where appointments were based on merit instead of patronage (Northcote & Trevelyan, 1854). These proposed reforms were gradually implemented at varying paces across government departments, laying the foundations of the Civil Service (Coolican, 2018; Heffer, 2013, pp. 469-505). However, it wasn’t until the Constitutional Reform and Governance Act 2010 that any of these reforms were codified in law.
The Northcote-Trevelyan Report argued appointments should be made through open and competitive examinations rather than patronage to ensure individuals with the necessary skills and qualifications are selected. Today, the Civil Service conducts competitive examinations to ensure only the best candidates are appointed to senior positions through schemes such as the Civil Service Fast Stream. For specialist roles requiring a particular skill or knowledge base, only candidates who can prove they have the necessary experience are allowed to enter the role.
DBT’s International Trade Advisors (ITAs) must have at least five years of commercial experience. As a direct result of employing qualified and competent ITAs, DBT secured 4,935 export wins for UK businesses from March 2022 to March 2023 (Department for Business & Trade, 2023). Thus, the Civil Service’s merit-based appointments benefit the UK economy and, by extension, British society. Had these appointments been made based on patronage, it is unlikely DBT would have had the same success. This is evidenced by the lack of success experienced by countries with more politicised civil services. For example, in March 2023, Nigeria’s goods exports only totalled ₦6,487 billion (£6.4 billion) compared to the UK’s £37.7 billion (HM Revenue & Customs, 2023; National Bureau of Statistics, 2023, p. 28).
The report also highlighted political impartiality as crucial to maintaining a consistent approach to public policy. Under a politicised system, public policy would constantly shift with the changing winds of government. Similarly, political bias would obscure the Civil Service from taking advantage of opportunities that do not fit the ruling party’s agenda. By remaining impartial, the Civil Service maintains an unbiased, long-term approach to policy implementation.
During my placement, DBT was working to support the British Halal industry with an aim to increase Britain’s Halal exports. The global Halal industry is one of the fastest-growing industries in the world, with an annual estimated growth rate of 20%, and is valued at about $560 billion (£444 billion) a year (Azam & Abdullah, 2020). Tapping into this lucrative market only serves to boost the UK economy and benefit British society. Had the Civil Service been politicised and the DBT’s senior leadership been chosen by Parliament, it’s improbable that DBT would have committed its resources to supporting the British Halal industry due to the ruling Conservative Party’s insensitivities towards the Muslim community (Allen, 2021). Had this been the case, it would have been a missed opportunity to boost the UK economy, thereby hindering British society. Luckily, the Civil Service’s pragmatism prevailed over political rhetoric.
Lastly, the report emphasised the need for public confidence in the Civil Service. By remaining politically impartial, civil servants would be perceived as serving the public interest rather than political agendas. This fosters trust in the government and ensures decisions are made with public welfare in mind. This is especially important when working with members of the public who may distrust the politics of Parliament.
At the end of my placement, I was tasked with canvassing the Manchester Halal Expo to identify high-export potential businesses and inform them about DBT’s support services. Many of the businesses I spoke to were suspicious of the government due to the Conservative Party’s reputation for being Islamophobic. However, once I explained that DBT and the wider Civil Service is independent of Parliament and its staff is not appointed by the Conservative Party, they became more open to learning about the support DBT provides. Thus, impartiality helps build the Civil Service’s relationship with British citizens, regardless of their political leanings.
Why Politicisation Won’t Save the Civil Service
There is no doubt the Civil Service has its issues: poor performance management, a preference for the privately educated, and the obstruction of Parliamentary priorities, among others (Foster, 2016; Friedman, 2021; Hymas & Malnick, 2023). However, is politicisation really the answer?
Proponents of politicisation often point towards the deteriorating relationship between civil servants and ministers as evidence impartiality isn’t working. The assumption is that politically aligned civil servants would be more zealous, less risk-averse, and directly accountable to ministers. Yet, this overlooks the merits of impartiality and the downsides of politicisation discussed above. The real reason behind the deteriorating relationship is the inherent difficulty of addressing complex issues. Policy decisions related to Brexit, the aftermath of the Coronavirus, and the cost-of-living crisis are inherently thorny and time-sensitive. While frustration about the pace of policy implementation is understandable, abandoning merit-based appointments in favour of patronage will not magically remove such challenges.
Impulsive calls for politicisation distract from the urgent need for joint reform efforts between Parliament and the Civil Service. Rather than engage in a media battle accusing each other of violating the British constitution, both sides should prioritise sorting out their conflicted accountabilities. Establishing a new statute for the civil service could address the current uncertainties and dysfunctions, serving the interests of both parties while simultaneously allowing them to retain their majoritarian and non-majoritarian institutional structures. In turn, preserving the benefits that come with such an arrangement. One such avenue for this is special advisors: temporary ministerial appointees unbeholden to the Civil Service’s requirement for impartiality. Easing restrictions on the number of special advisors would allow for many of the benefits of politicisation without jeopardising the Civil Service’s impartiality (White, 2023).
Conclusion
In conclusion, the debate over the politicisation of the Civil Service is a complex and nuanced issue requiring careful consideration of its historical roots, current practices, and potential consequences. While advocates of politicisation argue for a more direct connection between ministers and civil servants, evidence suggests maintaining the Civil Service’s impartiality is essential for the well-being of British society.
The historical foundation of the Civil Service emphasises the importance of merit-based appointments to ensure competence and expertise. Impartiality fosters long-term policy consistency, allowing the Civil Service to seize opportunities overlooked in a politicised environment. Furthermore, impartiality enhances public trust in the Civil Service, which is crucial for a government seeking to serve the diverse interests of its citizens.
While the Civil Service has its issues, the proposed solution of politicisation raises concerns about the potential erosion of merit-based appointments, policy consistency, and public trust. Rather than hastily embracing politicisation, a more thoughtful approach involves joint reform efforts between Parliament and the Civil Service. In this regard, special advisors offer a compromise which preserves the benefits of majoritarian and non-majoritarian institutional structures.
In many ways, the Civil Service represents the UK’s meritocratic aspirations, to which forgoing impartiality would be a disservice. Instead, the imperative lies in fostering collaboration and reform to address the challenges within the Civil Service, maintaining its crucial role as an impartial, competent, and trusted institution serving the best interests of the British public.
References
Allen, C., 2021. Islamophobia in the Conservative party: key points from the inquiry on discrimination, Melbourne: The Conversation.
Azam, S. E. & Abdullah, M. A., 2020. Global Halal Industry: Realities and Opportunities. International Journal of Islamic Business Ethics, 5(1), pp. 47-59.
Civil Service, 2010. The Civil Service Code, London: Civil Service.
Civil Service, 2016. Civil Service Management Code, London: Civil Service.
Coolican, M., 2018. No Tradesmen and No Women: The Origins of the British Civil Service. Hull: Biteback Publishing.
Department for Business & Trade, 2023. Annual Report and Accounts 2022-23, London: Department for Business & Trade.
Foster, M., 2016. Civil service performance management: survey highlights leaders’ frustrations, London: Civil Service World.
Friedman, S., 2021. Navigating the labyrinth: Socio-economic background and career progression within the Civil Service, London: Social Mobility Commission.
Hay, C., 2007. Why We Hate Politics. Cambridge: Polity Press.
Heffer, S., 2013. High Minds: The Victorians and the Birth of Modern Britain, London: Random House.
HM Revenue & Customs, 2023. National Statistics: UK overseas trade in goods statistics March 2023: commentary, London: HM Revenue & Customs.
Hymas, C. & Malnick, E., 2023. Sack top civil servants who obstruct immigration policies, says Liam Fox, London: The Telegraph.
Majone, G., 2001. Nonmajoritarian Institutions and the Limits of Democratic Governance: A Political Transaction-Cost Approach. Journal of Institutional and Theoretical Economics, 157(1), pp. 57-78.
National Bureau of Statistics, 2023. Foreign Trade in Goods Statistics (Q1 2023), Abuja: National Bureau of Statistics.
Northcote, S. H. & Trevelyan, C., 1854. Report on the Organisation of the Permanent Civil Service, Together with a Letter from the Rev. B. Jowett, London: Eyre & Spottiswoode.
Thatcher, M. & Sweet, A. S., 2002. Theory and Practice of Delegation to Non-Majoritarian Institutions. West European Politics, 25(1), pp. 1-22.
Wheeler, B., 2023. Suella Braverman: Civil servants demand apology over small boats email, London: BBC.
White, H., 2023. Civil service politicisation is the wrong answer to the wrong question, London: Institute for Government.
Zürn, M., 2019. Politicization compared: at national, European, and global levels. Journal of European Public Policy, 26(7), pp. 977-995.
In October 2023, Israel launched a full-blown military invasion of the Gaza Strip.
The following essay was originally submitted as an assignment for my university and was graded as a 2:1.
The biggest obstacle to Israeli-Palestinian reconciliation is Israel’s siege mentality. To illustrate this, I utilise the spiral model to demonstrate how Israel’s security policies have contributed to the socio-economic deprivation and radicalisation of Palestinians, precipitating the very conditions allowing the conflict to persist. Following this, I argue Israel’s aggressive security policies are primarily informed by a collective siege mentality embedded in Israeli nationalism. Therefore, any genuine attempt at reconciliation requires tackling Israeli society’s collective siege mentality, softening Israel’s security policies, and alleviating the suffering of the Palestinian people.
Israel, Palestine and the Spiral Model
According to the spiral model, conflicts occur when one side punishes another with the false expectation it will elicit better behaviour. On the contrary, such punishment only provokes a violent reaction from the other side. Believing its initial punishment to have been too mild, the first side responds with more punishment, causing the other side to become even more belligerent in return. Thus, a cycle of perpetual punishment is born, forcing both sides to spiral into intense conflict. Therefore, the spiral model implies the best way to avoid conflict is through appeasement. In other words, ‘carrots’ rather than ‘sticks’ (Jervis, 1976, pp. 62-67).
By applying the spiral model to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, it becomes clear Israel’s actions against Palestine have only served to exacerbate the conflict rather than solve it. For instance, Israel has carried out regular offensive military operations in the Gaza Strip to punish Palestinian militants, notably Hamas, with the false expectation it would end Palestinian militancy (Filiu, 2014). Instead, these military operations had the opposite effect. Following the 2008-2009 Gaza War, Palestinian militant activity intensified, eventually leading to the 2014 Gaza War and the current 2023 Israel-Hamas War.
Each of these wars has been deadlier than the last. During the 2008-2009 Gaza War, there were 1,400 fatalities, of whom 1,387 were Palestinians and 13 were Israelis (B’Tselem, 2009). During the 2014 Gaza War, there were 2,202 fatalities, of whom 2,131 were Palestinians and 71 were Israelis (OCHA, 2014). So far, during the ongoing 2023 Israel-Hamas War, there have been an unprecedented 16,415 fatalities, of whom 15,083 were Palestinians and 1,332 were Israelis (WHO, 2023). This exponential increase in fatalities indicates Israel’s disproportionate military responses have contributed to a cycle of perpetual punishment, which only serves to push both sides further away from reconciliation.
In a similar vein to the Gaza Strip, the presence of Israeli security forces in Jerusalem has also contributed to the perpetuation of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Since the beginning of the conflict, Jerusalem has been a source of major contention on account of its religious significance to the three major Abrahamic traditions (Klein, 2022). In particular, Al-Aqsa, the third holiest site in Islam, has increasingly become the de-facto focal point of the conflict following annual clashes between Israeli security forces and Palestinian worshippers.
Beginning in May 2021, Israeli security forces stormed Al-Aqsa Mosque in response to growing dissent surrounding the Sheikh Jarrah evictions, with the false expectation it would quell Palestinian resistance. Instead, the provocation escalated the conflict, prompting Hamas to fire rockets into Israel in response (Holmes & Beaumont, 2021). A year later, in April 2022, Israeli security forces stormed the Al-Aqsa Mosque a second time to apprehend Palestinian protestors who had barricaded themselves inside (Kingsley & Abdulrahim, 2022). In April 2023, Israeli security forces stormed the Al-Aqsa Mosque for a third time, eliciting violent responses from Palestinian militants based in Gaza and Southern Lebanon (Al-Jazeera, 2023; Debre & Akram, 2023)
This continual harassment of Palestinian worshippers at one of Islam’s holiest sites during the holy month of Ramadan has not only aggravated Palestinians but Muslims the world over. Given the conflict’s significant religious dimension, such escalations by Israeli security forces pose a considerable obstacle to Israeli-Palestinian reconciliation, contributing to the ongoing cycle of perpetual punishment (Kronish, 2022). This is illustrated by Hamas’ reference to the desecration of the Al-Aqsa as the primary justification behind the October 7th Attack (Nakhoul & Bassam, 2023). Thus highlighting how a false expectation that punishment elicits better behaviour can lead to intense conflict.
Much like Jerusalem, Israel’s security presence in the West Bank also poses an obstacle to Israeli-Palestinian reconciliation. Since the 1967 Six-Day War, Israel’s occupation of the West Bank has become another major source of contention due to the expansion of illegal Israeli settlements (Handel, et al., 2022). Today, there are a total of 290 Israeli settlements and 465,400 Israeli settlers in the West Bank (Peace Now, 2023). The increasing settler presence has inevitably led to hostilities with the local Palestinian population, prompting Israel to implement increasingly stringent security measures.
Following the 1967 Six-Day War, Israel began building illegal settlements in the occupied Palestinian territories, leading to the outbreak of the First Intifada in 1987. During the 1990s, Israel responded to the growing violence by building a system of checkpoints to separate Israelis and Palestinians, with the false expectation such measures would elicit better behaviour from the Palestinians (Berda, 2017). In reality, the checkpoints further aggravated the Palestinians by easing the movement of Israelis between the settlements and Israel proper while simultaneously restricting the movement of Palestinians within the West Bank (Handel, 2014).
After the 1995 Oslo II Accord, the majority of the West Bank fell under Israeli security control, allowing Israel to continue its settlement project unhindered, leading to the outbreak of the Second Intifada in 2000. This prompted Israel to implement even stricter security measures, including the construction of its infamous separation barrier within Palestinian territory, aggravating Palestinians even more (Falke, 2013). In recent years, standoffs between Israeli security forces and Palestinians in the West Bank have become a daily occurrence, contributing to the cycle of perpetual punishment, driving both sides further from reconciliation.
All-in-all, Israel’s aggressive security policies have contributed to the socio-economic deprivation of Palestinians. For instance, Israel’s blockade of the Gaza Strip, coupled with the devastation wrought during its military incursions, resulted in a poverty rate of 61% in 2020 (World Bank, 2022). Similarly, Israel’s increasing settler presence in Jerusalem and the West Bank, coupled with the rampant restrictions on Palestinians, has contributed to feelings of injustice and inequality. This is best illustrated by the disparity between both sides’ Human Development Index (HDI) scores. Palestine’s HDI stood at 0.715 in 2021 and is projected to drop to as low as 0.674 by the end of the 2023 Israel-Hamas War (UNDP, 2023, pp. 8-10). Compare this to Israel’s HDI of 0.919 in 2021, and it is clear there exists a blatant socio-economic inequality brought about by security policies favouring Israelis at the expense of Palestinians (UNDP, 2022).
It is well documented that poor socio-economic conditions and feelings of perceived injustice are the perfect breeding ground for radicalisation, allowing militant groups like Hamas to increase their influence (Horgan, 2003) (Newman, 2006, p. 764). Thus, by responding to Palestinian belligerence with punishments which further the socio-economic deprivation of Palestinians, Israel is contributing to the very phenomenon it wishes to solve. This again illustrates how punishment leads to intense conflict, pushing both sides further from reconciliation.
By viewing the Israeli-Palestinian conflict through the lens of the spiral model, it is clear punishment has not served reconciliation. Contrast this to the Arab-Israeli conflict, where Israel followed a policy of gradual normalisation, and it becomes apparent the road to reconciliation lies with appeasement (Barakat, 2023). For instance, following Egypt’s surprise attack on Israel during the 1973 Yom Kippur War, Israel agreed to establish a buffer zone under the 1974 Sinai I Agreement despite winning more territorial gains than it had during the 1967 Six-Day War. This led to the 1975 Sinai II Agreement, eventually snowballing into the 1979 Egypt-Israel Peace Treaty. Similarly, appeasing the Palestinians with the 1993 Oslo I Accord opened the doors for the 1994 Israel-Jordan Peace Treaty. Unfortunately, the outbreak of the Second Intifada, in response to Israel’s growing settler presence, put a premature end to Israeli-Palestinian reconciliation.
By appeasing the Arab states, Israel was able to guarantee secure borders with Egypt and Jordan. Had Israel applied the same process of gradual appeasement with the Palestinians following the Second Intifada without radicalising them through their aggressive punishments, then perhaps Hamas wouldn’t have gained power in the Gaza Strip. This, in turn, would have avoided the last two decades of conflict.
Israel’s Siege Mentality
The spiral model demonstrates how the Israeli-Palestinian conflict has been perpetuated by Israel’s false perception that punishment, in the form of aggressive security policies, will illicit better behaviour from belligerent Palestinians. Building on this, spiral theorists posit such false perception results from collective psychological processes (Jervis, 1976, pp. 67-76). In the case of Israel, the false perception is primarily informed by a collective siege mentality embedded in Israeli nationalism.
The term ‘siege mentality’ refers to “the mental state in which members of a group hold a central belief that the rest of the world has highly negative behavioural intentions toward them” (Bar-Tal & Antebi, 1992, p. 251). Shaped by historical traumas, notably the Holocaust and 1973 Yom Kippur War, and now the recent October 7th Attack, the Jewish nation has long perceived itself to be constantly under threat from the wider world. This entrenched belief has since become a cornerstone of Israeli nationalism, fuelling a narrative prioritising unwavering strength and stringent security measures as essential for survival (Klar, et al., 2013). Thereby framing Israel’s military operations in the Gaza Strip and increasing security presence in Jerusalem and the West Bank as necessary measures to protect against the existential threat posed by Palestinian belligerency. This, in turn, feeds the false perception punishment works better than appeasement.
Lasting peace ultimately lies in Israel overcoming its collective siege mentality, making it the biggest obstacle to Israeli-Palestinian reconciliation. Doing so will precipitate a shift from punishment to appeasement, ending the spiral into perpetual violence. While overcoming Israel’s siege mentality will be difficult, the outcome of the Arab-Israeli conflict proves it is not impossible (Barakat, 2023). It was Israel’s siege mentality and fear of vulnerability which drove it to carry out its pre-emptive strikes against Egypt during the 1967 Six-Day War. Twelve years later, Israel signed a peace treaty with Egypt.
In the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, the significant power asymmetry between Israel and Palestine has profound implications for reconciliation. As the more dominant party, Israel holds a considerable advantage in terms of military strength, economic resources, and political influence. The lack of institutional power on the Palestinian side, compounded by the socio-economic deprivation resulting from prolonged conflict, places them in a vulnerable position. The power disparity becomes particularly evident in negotiations, where Israel’s advantageous position allows it to dictate the terms and pace of the peace process (Ramsbotham, 2022).
Given this power imbalance, the onus for driving meaningful progress towards reconciliation falls heavily on Israel. As the more powerful actor, Israel can implement substantial changes in its security policies to create a fairer socio-economic environment for Palestinians. It is incumbent upon Israel to proactively seek avenues for de-escalation, initiate confidence-building measures, and address the underlying grievances fuelling Palestinian discontent. By taking the initiative in softening its security policies, Israel has the potential to set the stage for genuine reconciliation, paving the way for a more stable and peaceful coexistence with Palestine.
Conclusion
In conclusion, the spiral model demonstrates the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is the result of Israel’s false expectation that punishment will elicit better behaviour from the Palestinians. Examples from the Gaza Strip, Jerusalem, and the West Bank demonstrate how Israel’s aggressive security policies have exacerbated tensions and driven both sides further away from reconciliation. The socio-economic deprivation resulting from these policies has led to the radicalisation of Palestinian society, creating the very conditions allowing the conflict to persist. Therefore, a shift towards appeasement, as seen with the Arab-Israeli Conflict, is crucial for achieving lasting reconciliation and avoiding prolonged conflict.
Building on this, Israel’s siege mentality stands out as the biggest obstacle to Israeli-Palestinian reconciliation for being the primary causal factor for Israel’s aggressive security. Overcoming Israel’s siege mentality will inevitably lead to a shift from punishment to appeasement that softens Israel’s security policies and alleviates the suffering of the Palestinian people. Furthermore, the inherent power imbalance of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict places responsibility on Israel to initiate peace, address grievances, and foster trust, highlighting the moral imperative for the stronger party to lead towards genuine reconciliation.
References
Al-Jazeera, 2023. Israel says more than 30 rockets fired from southern Lebanon, Doha: Al-Jazeera.
B’Tselem, 2009. B’Tselem’s investigation of fatalities in Operation Cast Lead, Jerusalem: B’Tselem.
Barakat, A., 2023. The Arab World and the Palestinian-Israeli Conflict. In: A. Siniver, ed. Routledge Companion to the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict. London: Routledge, pp. 394-404.
Bar-Tal, D. & Antebi, D., 1992. Siege mentality in Israel. International Journal of Intercultural Relations, 16(3), pp. 251-275.
Berda, Y., 2017. Living Emergency: Israel’s Permit Regime in the Occupied West Bank. Stanford: Stanford University Press.
Debre, I. & Akram, F., 2023. Violence erupts at Jerusalem holy site for a 2nd night, New York: Associated Press.
Falke, S., 2013. “Good fences make…”: The Separation Fence in Israel and its Influence on Society. In: A. Lechevalier & J. Wielgohs, eds. Borders and Border Regions in Europe: Changes, Challenges and Chances. Bielefeld: Transcript Verlag, pp. 255-266.
Filiu, J.-P., 2014. The Twelve Wars on Gaza. Journal of Palestine Studies, 44(1), pp. 52-60.
Handel, A., 2014. Gated/gating community: the settlement complex in the West Bank. Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers, 39(4), pp. 504-517.
Handel, A., Allegra, M. & Maggor, E., 2022. The Israeli Settlements: Past, Present and Future. In: A. Siniver, ed. Routledge Companion to the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict. London: Routledge, pp. 218-233.
Holmes, O. & Beaumont, P., 2021. Israeli police storm al-Aqsa mosque ahead of Jerusalem Day march, London: The Guardian.
Horgan, J., 2003. The Search for the Terrorist Personality. In: A. Silke, ed. Terrorists, Victims and Society: Psychological Perspectives on Terrorism and its Consequences. Chichester: John Wiley & Sons, pp. 3-28.
Jervis, R., 1976. Perception and Misperception in International Politics. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Kingsley, P. & Abdulrahim, R., 2022. Israeli Government Crisis Deepens After Closing of Major Mosque, New York: The New York Times.
Klar, Y., Schori-Eyal, N. & Klar, Y., 2013. The “Never Again” State of Israel: The Emergence of the Holocaust as a Core Feature of Israeli Identity and Its Four Incongruent Voices. Journal of Social Issues, 69(1), pp. 125-143.
Klein, M., 2022. Jerusalem. In: A. Siniver, ed. Routledge Companion to the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict. London: Routledge, pp. 205-217.
Kronish, R., 2022. The Role of Religion and Interreligious Dialogue in the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict. In: A. Siniver, ed. Routledge Companion to the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict. London: Routledge, pp. 276-287.
Nakhoul, S. & Bassam, L., 2023. Who is Mohammed Deif, the Hamas commander behind the attack on Israel?, London: Reuters.
Newman, E., 2006. Exploring the “Root Causes” of Terrorism. Studies in Conflict & Terrorism, 29(8), pp. 749-772.
OCHA, 2014. Occupied Palestinian Territory: Gaza Emergency Situation Report (as of 4 September 2014, 08:00 hrs), New York: OCHA.
Ramsbotham, O., 2022. Radical Asymmetry, Conflict Resolution, and Strategic Engagement in the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict. In: A. Siniver, ed. Routledge Companion to the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict. London: Routledge, pp. 89-102.
There are over 2.6 million Afghan refugees worldwide, with an additional 3.5 million internally displaced within Afghanistan.
The following report was originally submitted as an assignment for my university and was graded as a first-class report.
Exile – commonly defined as a state of enforced separation from one’s homeland – is a concept that has permeated history, literature and even religion, fragmenting familiar landscapes and uprooting cultural connections. It is within such tumultuous contexts that exiles confront the quest for self-discovery and adaptation, ultimately shaping and reshaping their identities. By examining the accounts of contemporary Afghani exiles, this report aims to shed light on the complex interplay between exile and the construction of identity.
In this report, I qualitatively analyse interview transcripts and a newspaper article to answer the following research question: How might the experience of exile affect a sense of identity? In the first section, I use thematic analysis to analyse interview transcripts from Afghan Women’s Resistance and Struggle in Afghanistan and Diasporic Communities. In the second section, I use critical discourse analysis to analyse The Colors of Islam. In the final section, I conclude by comparing my findings from both analyses, summarising the key points.
Thematic Analysis
For the first part of this report, I will conduct a thematic analysis of five interview transcripts conducted by researcher Elaheh Rostami-Povey as part of a research project entitled Afghan Women’s Resistance and Struggle in Afghanistan and Diasporic Communities (Rostami-Povey, 2008). Published in 2008, Rostami-Povey’s study focuses on the experience of Afghan women living in Britain and America.
Thematic analysis is a research method involving identifying, analysing, and interpreting patterns or themes within a qualitative dataset, such as interviews and survey responses. It is widely used within the social sciences to gain insight into the human experience, and the perceptions or meanings subjects derive from said experiences. Furthermore, thematic analysis is not tied to any specific epistemology, allowing it to be used without understanding broader philosophical debates and positions (Braun & Clarke, 2006). This flexibility and accessibility make it perfect for understanding complex phenomena that cannot be analysed using numbers or quantitative measurements, such as ‘exile’ and ‘identity’. Furthermore, thematic analysis is guided by the analytic hierarchy, which sets out a systematic approach to qualitative data analysis that ensures research findings are rigorous, transparent, and credible.
Thematic analysis can be broken down into six consecutive phases of analysis (Braun & Clarke, 2012). The first phase of analysis involves familiarising oneself with the data via repeated readings or listening to gain a comprehensive understanding of the content. To do this, I reread the interview transcripts multiple times before annotating what they revealed about ‘exile’ and ‘identity’, which allowed me to internalise the data. The second phase of analysis involves systematically labelling or categorising sections of the text that relate to specific ideas, concepts, or patterns. This process is known as coding. After reviewing my annotations, I found a total of 13 codes across the five interviews. The third and fourth phases of analysis involve identifying themes by grouping codes together and reviewing said themes to ensure that they accurately capture the data’s essence. I initially grouped my codes into five themes. However, after consulting my peers and comparing their findings to mine, I narrowed it down to three broad themes: identity, political opinions, and gender dynamics (see Appendix I). The fifth phase of analysis involves defining each theme by providing clear explanations and examples to illustrate their meaning. To do this, I created a thematic chart (see Appendix II). The sixth phase of analysis involves writing a cohesive narrative that incorporates the themes and their supporting evidence (see below).
Caught between two worlds, Afghan exiles are often compelled to grapple with how their Afghan heritage is at odds with the culture of their host countries. Shikeb reflects on feeling more British than Afghan, stating, “I feel that I am British because I know more about Britain than Afghanistan.” This sentiment echoes previous studies that highlight the influence of the dominant culture on shaping the identities of immigrants (Alba, 1999; Angelini, et al., 2015). Furthermore, exiles commonly develop a hybrid cultural identity, blending elements from their heritage and the culture they are immersed in. This process of acculturation allows individuals to navigate between their Afghan background and their adopted country, forging a unique sense of self. A common reflection found throughout the interviews is the idea that young Afghans feel more Afghan inside the home and more American and British outside the home. Nahid struggles to reconcile her Afghan and British identities, confessing, “I think most of my life I had to negotiate my identity and culture. Finally I found that I will have this problem all my life.” This struggle resonates with the experiences of many second-generation immigrants who must negotiate the tensions between their parents’ cultural heritage and the society they grow up in. The clash of expectations, values, and social norms can create a sense of fragmentation and uncertainty as individuals strive to find a balance between their Afghan roots and their desire for integration. As Farida puts it: “Our children lack identity, they are lost.”
Religious identity emerges as another significant aspect of the exile’s experience. Leila’s commitment to being a devout Muslim is evident when she shares, “I remained a good Muslim; I regularly go to my local mosque and have many Muslim friends from the area.” Her dedication to her religious beliefs reflects the findings of previous studies that highlight the role of religion as a source of continuity and identity for Muslim immigrant communities, particularly in the face of challenges related to integration and acculturation (Kabir, 2013; Lewis & Kashyap, 2013). Religion acts as a unifying force, providing solace, community, and a framework for navigating the complexities of life in a foreign land.
Discrimination is an unfortunate reality faced by many exile communities. Tahera recounts her experiences with racism and prejudice, revealing, “After 9/11, I had a hard time, when they called me Terrorist, I wanted to hide and I wished that I was not Afghan.” Her account mirrors existing literature that sheds light on the discrimination faced by Muslims and those who visibly express their religious beliefs (Cole, 2009; EUMC, 2006). These experiences highlight the broader patterns of discrimination and xenophobia prevalent in society that impede the process of identity formation, making it difficult for individuals to fully embrace their Afghan heritage and feel a sense of belonging in their adopted country.
Critical Discourse Analysis
For the next part of this report, I will use critical discourse analysis (CDA) to analyse a newspaper article written by contributor Saif ur Rahman Qargha entitled The Colors of Islam for US News & World Report (USNWR) (Qargha, 2008). Released on the 7th April 2008, Qargha’s article details his experience as an Afghani political refugee growing up in the US, particularly in the aftermath of 9/11 and the Patriot Act.
CDA is a methodology born out of the 1960s Poststructuralist movement, which aimed to deconstruct conceptions of reality to understand the social world and the power dynamics that exist therein. CDA draws upon the concept of discourse, which asserts that knowledge – and therefore power – is created via language and the meaning it imposes upon reality. Thus, CDA is defined as the critical investigation of “social inequality as it is expressed, signalled, constituted, legitimised and so on by language use” (Wodak, 2001, p. 2). In other words, CDA is the process of analysing texts to understand how specific institutions and societal roles exist due to ways of thinking and speaking that are captured in the texts’ language (Hodges, et al., 2008). This preoccupation with how language relates to power and society makes CDA an appropriate technique to understand what it means to be an ‘exile’, allowing us to uncover how ‘identity’ can be shaped by the very language we use when discussing it.
CDA can be broken down into three interrelated stages of analysis: description, interpretation and explanation (Fairclough, 1995). The first stage of analysis – description – is concerned with the language of the text itself, including grammar, vocabulary, literary devices, and images, amongst others. To do this, I reread the article multiple times before analysing its use of language and what it tells us about the experience of exile (see Appendix III). Overall, there were three key takeaways from my language analysis:
Exiles are acutely aware of their religious identities in host countries that have significantly different cultural practices to their home countries.
Exiles often face discrimination at the hands of the media and the government, creating a need to defend their religious identities.
Exiles can still develop a strong sense of patriotism and love for their host countries while holding onto their religious identities.
The second stage of analysis – interpretation – is concerned with how the text is produced, distributed, consumed, and interpreted, focusing on the relationship between the author and the audience. Qargha’s article was published online by USNWR, a centre-right media company based in Washington, DC. USNWR was founded in 1948 and has enjoyed a fruitful legacy, establishing itself as a well-respected media outlet (USNWR, 2018). Its annual American college rankings are influential enough to impact national college application patterns (Luca & Smith, 2011). Given this, it is likely that Qargha’s article reached a large audience who interpreted the article in an American-centric context. Qargha seems well aware of his audience due to his apologetic approach to explaining Islam, which has long since been vilified in American discourse. As such, Qargha has taken on the role of a bipartisan – he is both a devout Muslim and American patriot – who seeks to educate his audience by clearing up misconceptions about Islam. This reflects the exiles’ need to defend their religious identity and the role exiles play in acting as ambassadors for their community.
The final stage of analysis – explanation – is concerned with how the text fits into a wider social context and reflects existing power dynamics. Qargha’s article was released in the context of the War on Terror and the 2008 Presidential Race when conspiracies claiming Barack Obama to be a secret Muslim were being used to discredit his candidacy (Parlett, 2014, pp. 123-162). During this time, Muslims were subject to media vilification and increased state surveillance via policies such as the Patriot Act. As Qargha points out in his article, many American Muslims felt “intimidated” as a result, reflecting a power dynamic where the state, aided by the media, frames Muslims as suspect communities and the scapegoats for international terrorism; thereby constructing an ‘us-versus-them’ dichotomy, where Muslims are presented as the ‘other’ to be feared and rejected. Qargha ultimately pushes back against this with his overt praise for America as “God’s land” and his assertion that God “chose” him to be there. Therefore, Qargha’s article is not just an account of his experience as an Afghan refugee but rather a challenge against the existing power structure.
Conclusion
To recap, the main takeaway from the thematic analysis was that Afghan exiles often grapple with their dual identities, struggling to blend elements from their Afghan background with the culture they are immersed in. Religious identity emerged as another significant aspect, with Islam serving as a unifying force and a source of continuity for Afghan exiles. Additionally, the analysis highlighted the prevalence of discrimination and prejudice faced by Afghan exiles in their adopted countries, influencing their sense of belonging and integration.
Comparably, the CDA reaffirmed that Afghan exiles maintain a strong awareness of their religious identities within host countries with different cultural practices. Qargha’s use of language indicated that exiles are highly conscious of their religious beliefs and practices, particularly in the context of navigating societal expectations. In addition, it also revealed how exiles are often forced to act as ambassadors of their respective communities in the face of potential discrimination. Despite these obstacles, the analysis indicated that exiles can still develop a strong sense of patriotism and love for their host countries while holding onto their religious identities.
In conclusion, the findings from both analyses shed light on the complex experiences of Afghan exiles, encompassing issues of identity, cultural integration, religion, and discrimination. By combining insights from thematic analysis and CDA, I was able to gain a deeper understanding of the challenges faced by Afghan exiles and the power dynamics that shape their identities in diasporic communities.
References
Alba, R., 1999. Immigration and the American Realities of Assimilation and Multiculturalism. Sociological Forum, 14(1), pp. 3-25.
Angelini, V., Casi, L. & Corazzini, L., 2015. Life satisfaction of immigrants: does cultural assimilation matter?. Journal of Population Economics, 28(3), pp. 817-844.
Braun, V. & Clarke, V., 2006. Using thematic analysis in psychology. Qualitative Research In Psychology, 3(2), pp. 77-101.
Braun, V. & Clarke, V., 2012. Chapter 4: Thematic Analysis. In: H. Cooper, et al. eds. APA handbook of research methods in psychology, Vol. 2. Research designs: Quantitative, qualitative, neuropsychological, and biological. Washington DC: American Psychological Association, pp. 57-71.
Cole, M., 2009. A Plethora of ‘Suitable Enemies’: British Racism at the Dawn of the Twenty-First Century. Ethnic and Racial Studies, 32(9), pp. 1671-1685.
EUMC, 2006. Muslims in the European Union: Discrimination and Islamophobia, Vienna: European Union Monitoring Centre on Racism and Xenophobia.
Fairclough, N., 1995. Critical Discourse Analysis: The Critical Study of Language. London: Longman.
Hodges, B. D., Kuper, A. & Reeves, S., 2008. Qualitative Research: Discourse Analysis. BMJ: British Medical Journal, 337(7669), pp. 570-572.
Kabir, N. A., 2013. Young American Muslims: Dynamics of Identity. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press.
Lewis, V. A. & Kashyap, R., 2013. Are Muslims a Distinctive Minority? An Empirical Analysis of Religiosity, Social Attitudes, and Islam. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 52(3), pp. 617-627.
Luca, M. & Smith, J., 2011. Salience in Quality Disclosure: Evidence from the U.S. News College Rankings. Journal of Economics & Management Strategy, 22(1), p. 58–77.
Parlett, M. A., 2014. Demonizing a President: The “Foreignization” of Barack Obama. Santa Barbara: Praeger.
Rostami-Povey, E., 2008. Afghan Women’s Resistance and Struggle in Afghanistan and Diasporic Communities, Swindon: Economic and Social Research Council.
Wodak, R., 2001. What CDA Is About – A Summary of Its History, Important Concepts and Its Developments. In: R. Wodak & M. Meyer, eds. Methods of Critical Discourse Analysis. London: Sage Publications, pp. 1-13.
Appendix I – Coding Index – Interview Transcripts
Identity
1.1 Cultural Identity
1.2 Religious Identity
1.3 Discrimination
Political Opinions
2.1 Change
2.2 Foreign Intervention
2.3 Challenges Facing Afghanistan
2.4 Hopes for Afghanistan
Gender Dynamics
3.1 Gender Roles
3.2 Family
3.3 Community
3.4 Personal Agency
3.5 Future Aspirations
3.6 Women’s Rights
Appendix II – Thematic Chart Extract – Interview Transcripts
Identity
1.1 Cultural Identity
1.2 Religious Identity
1.3 Discrimination
Transcript 6065int051: Shikeb, Fahima, Farida, Zohra, and Massouda
“I feel that I am British because I know more about Britain than Afghanistan.” (Shikeb) “My parents say I’m Afghan but I feel British as well as Afghan […] I like British style but I prefer the Afghan way of life.” (Fahima) “If I cannot go out with my British friends, I go out with my Afghan cousins who I feel closer with them and I can trust them more.” (Fahima) “It’s very difficult for us Western Afghans to change people’s belief.” (Fahima) “I might not have enough freedom to go out. But I love Afghan culture.” (Fahima) “I am close to Afghan culture with my family and I am close to British culture in college and work. Half a day I have Afghan culture and the other half of the day British culture.” (Farida) There are things that I don’t like about both cultures.” (Farida) “I feel that I am Afghan. But I don’t know how I feel if I go to Afghanistan. In any case I prefer to live a simple life without thinking about being Afghan or British.” (Massouda) “I feel that there is three generations here. My parents’ generation who grew up in Afghanistan and like to go back home. Second generation like myself, we came here when we were teenagers and we went to school here. Third group is our children; they were born and brought up here […] Now they think they are better than us. Especially teenagers think that they know everything. I think they have learned this from the British attitude and culture.” (Massouda)
“I try to be a good Muslim. For example I try to fast most of the month of Ramadan.” (Fahima) “I think that we live in this society and I should keep to my religion and some aspects of my Afghan culture. I also think that we should adjust to certain aspects of life here, otherwise we will be lost.” (Massouda)
“Because of my colour of skin and my British accent, there is not much hostility towards me. But when people hear my name they find out that I’m not British.” (Fahima) “My mother has been subject to racism because she wears hijab, especially since 9/11. Because the media portray Afghans in a bad way.” (Fahima) “If they say anything about Afghanistan I tell them to shut up and do not say anything about a country that they don’t know about.” (Fahima) “I do have a few white British friends. They do know that I’m Afghan. I think I have changed their view.” (Fahima) “Some people call me a terrorist but not seriously.” (Farida)
Transcript 6065int052: Nahid
“I think most of my life I had to negotiate my identity and culture. Finally I found that I will have this problem all my life.” (Nahid) “When I’m with people who don’t know anything about Afghanistan, I want to tell them about it and change their ideas about Afghanistan.” (Nahid) “I think I want to know what’s like to be Afghan. Therefore, I feel that I have identity problem. I think as a nation we have identity problem.” (Nahid) “In the West, we have discovered individualism and when we go back to Afghanistan we forget our individualism.” (Nahid) “When we came to Europe I was a teenager and it was a very difficult time for me. At first I tried to be totally European […] But when I integrated more into the British culture I became more interested in my own culture […] But then I stopped searching because I felt identity is something that can be changed everyday.” (Nahid) “I have given up my Afghan passport […] There are more negative sides to Afghan culture.” (Nahid) “I feel that I am two different persons and I think in two different ways. This was a difficult struggle but I think it is now less painful.” (Nahid) “I decided to drop my Afghan culture. But of course there are also good things in my culture that I appreciate.” (Nahid) “My life is a mixture of British and Asian. My husband is interested in Asia; everything in our house is Asian.” (Nahid)
“We try to create a new identity that includes Islam but it’s very difficult as there are all kinds of diversities and complexities.” (Nahid) “In different ways I started searching for my identity, one time it was Islam, one time it was reading Persian literature.” (Nahid)
“I think the focus on ethnicity is complicated and can be dangerous.” (Nahid)
Transcript 6065int054: Palwasha, Suhaila, Farida, Nazia, and Fatana
“I have always considered myself Afghan. I learnt the language and worked in the system. But never have identified myself as American. I always talk about my Afghan identity.” (Palwasha) “I think our young generation cannot live in Afghanistan, they have two cultures. But we hope that we could change the dark side of our culture and bring about the positive side.” (Palwasha) “My children suffer from clash of cultures and have to try hard to integrate. In some ways it is harder for them than it is for us […] We are very protective of our children; we are scared of some of the things which go on in this society. All this adjustment is very difficult.” (Suhaila) “My older son lives separate from us, he sees himself more American than Afghan, but he likes the Afghan culture and music. My daughter sees herself more Afghan than American. My other son learned Dari and Pashto on his own initiative and loves Afghan culture. For me it is very important that our children can relate to Afghan culture, especially our history, culture and language.” (Suhaila) “In America people consider themselves American because there has been a degree of economic integration. When people are economically integrated, then they will integrate politically, socially and culturally.” (Farida) “Yes, this is exile […] we are khane be dosh, nomad, we feel that our roots are burnt. Our children lack identity, they are lost.” (Farida) “We try to pass our heritage on to our children, but it is very hard for them to cope with dual identity. I know that my children and other young Afghans say that I am Afghan at home and I am American outside of the home and this is very hard for them to cope with. Our children are lost and confused.” (Farida) “I was more familiar with Western culture than my husband. My husband suffered much more in terms of identity crisis.” (Nazia) “I think, my children, don’t have too much identity crisis. They all have married with Americans. But they are attached to Afghan culture. I feel that at home they are Afghan but outside they feel American, otherwise they cannot cope. We have always told our children that they should get the positive culture of America.” (Nazia) “They consider themselves Afghans. They never consider themselves Americans.” (Fatana)
“We thank God for being able to come and live in this country and our children were able to be educated.” (Palwasha) “I thought that as Muslims, we will be welcomed in these Muslim societies, but we were not.” (Fatana)
“I sometimes feel that the tension between Tajik, Pashtun, Hazara and Uzbek and between Shi’a and Sunni exist between the Afghans in exile. It is important to fight against these tensions.” (Palwasha) “There is racism everywhere even in American society where they are all immigrants. But in these societies, we have rules and regulations […] Certainly after 9/11 there has been a great deal of racism against Afghans and Muslims.” (Palwasha) “During the Taliban, Americans were sympathetic to us, but after the 9/11 there has been a great deal of racism. Nevertheless, because American society is a melting pot, it is possible to survive easier.” (Suhaila) “There is also racism and discrimination in American society. At the same time it is important to live somewhere where there are laws and regulations.” (Farida) “We lived in Iran and in Saudi Arabia; they did not welcome us.” (Fatana)
Transcript 6065int055: Tahera, Guita, and Leila
“I don’t feel fully American. I feel more Afghan than American, from a traditional Afghan culture.” (Tahera) “I feel that I am both American and Afghan. Sometimes I feel that I am more Afghan because of my culture and the fact that I practice Afghan culture […] Sometimes I feel that it is good to have the best of both worlds.” (Tahera) “When they asked me why you feel so proud of your Afghan culture? I told them that I have been brought up with this culture and I am proud of it.” (Tahera) “I feel both Afghan and American […] There is a conflict between the two cultures, but I deal with it by belonging to both and socialise with both groups and cultures and religions.” (Guita) “I feel that both Afghan and American cultures are extreme; I feel that I need something in between.” (Guita) “I will bring up my children differently, I don’t want them to be Americanised. I want them to be Afghan but with more power of decision making.” (Guita) “I don’t trust non-Afghan culture, especially Western culture.” (Leila) “A strong extended family relationship have kept us close to each other and protected us against the alien American culture.” (Leila) “Many rich Arabs wanted to marry my daughters but I couldn’t do it. Arabs are alien to my culture, although they are Muslims.” (Leila) “Afghan culture first and then Muslim culture […] I prefer Afghans to all other cultures.” (Leila) “Our children are pulled from two different cultures and cannot cope. Some accept the Afghan culture and some accept the American culture, but many are pulled between the two and find it very difficult.” (Leila) “I think both cultures have good and bad aspects. I grab the good sides of both cultures.” (Leila)
“For me religion is what is in the book, culture is ideas formed around what is in the book. My religion is very important for me, I pray and fast in Ramadan, but I don’t wear the hijab. […] It is difficult to go to school with the hijab, so I don’t wear it and this is ok with my mother and family.” (Guita) “I remained a good Muslim; I regularly go to my local mosque and have many Muslim friends from the area.” (Leila) “During the month of Ramadan, I spent all my time in the local mosque till late in the evening. I respect all other cultures and religions. But I and my daughters follow our own religion and culture. I have Jewish friends and Christian friends in the neighbourhood, I look after them if they need me but I keep to my own culture.” (Leila) “Afghan culture first and then Muslim culture.” (Leila) “I wear shorts and I swim in mixed pools but I am a practicing Muslim too. I pray and so on. But I don’t force my children to do say prayer five times a day.” (Leila) “They decided to hold on to their religion as a way of survival. In my view this can also be dangerous, because either they can become fanatics or to become anti religion. There has to be a balance.” (Leila)
“They look at Middle Eastern as terrorists and they blame us for 9/11. Some are very ignorant. My mother wears scarf and when she comes to school many are abusive about her. Sometimes I feel that they are really racist, they are ignorant.” (Tahera) “After 9/11, I had a hard time, when they called me Terrorist, I wanted to hide and I wished that I was not Afghan. But I tried to speak with my friends and tried to make them understand that I am Afghan but not a terrorist. Sometimes I felt that they understand, sometimes I felt that they do not.” (Tahera) “There is racism, especially after 9/11. But I deal with it by educating them and talking to them, sometimes it is very difficult as you feel that they don’t listen and they don’t understand. But when they do listen / understand I feel that I have achieved a great deal.” (Guita) “When we were in Iran, we were subject to racism. The shop keepers refused to sell me milk for my babies. In Los Angeles, where the majority is immigrant, I don’t feel racism that much.” (Leila) “Somebody told me that if I continue to wear the hijab they may kill me, I said fine, I will be proud to die in my chaddari.” (Leila)
Transcript 6065int058: Malalai
“I feel that I am both American and Afghan. When I am at home I feel that I am Afghan, when I am out of the house with my friends I feel that I am American. But when I am with Americans I don’t feel totally American. When I am at home, I don’t feel totally Afghan […] with Americans I feel that I have to defend my culture. With Afghans I feel that because I have been allowed to dress like Americans, they don’t really like me and they don’t embrace me as they should do.” (Malalai) “Sometimes I feel Afghanistan is my country, especially when I am with my family and Afghan friends. When I am with my American friends, I feel that America is my country. But I know that none of them alone is my country. They are both my country.” (Malalai)
“I feel that I am all three of them Afghan, American, Muslim. For me religion is a personal thing it is between me and my God. I don’t think when I die and go to heaven the God will open his calendar to see how many times I prayed.” (Malalai)
“Since 9/11 things have been difficult. My university is a liberal institution but even there, sometimes someone says let us go and bomb them all. In this situation I don’t comment because they are ignorant.” (Malalai)
Appendix III – Language Analysis – The Colors of Islam by Saif ur Rahman Qargha
Text
Analysis
Born in Afghanistan in 1971, Qargha, 33, was a boy when soldiers from the invading Soviet Army broke into the family home and abducted his father and five uncles. He never saw them again. After fleeing to Pakistan, Qargha, his mother, and two brothers came to the United States in 1986 as political refugees. He is now a transportation engineer for Prince William County, Va.
The use of ‘boy’ evokes a sense of innocent victimhood, while the dramatic phrase ‘he never saw them again’ elicits a sympathetic reaction from the reader. The verbs ‘invading’, ‘broke’ and ‘abducted’ position the Soviet Army as violent interlopers as opposed to the United States as a sanctuary for ‘political refugees’. The mention of Qargha’s current occupation as a ‘transportation engineer’ positions him as an accomplished and contributing member of society, evoking ideas about the American Dream.
Before we came to the United States, we were concerned about preserving our identity. We felt that America was a good place. You didn’t feel like somebody was watching you, like the feeling we had in Afghanistan during the Russian occupation. But at the same time, America is spiritually devoid. People were concerned mostly about image.
Labelling America as a ‘good place’ portrays Qargha as grateful. Exiles associate positive feelings with their host countries. Associating Afghanistan with the negative feeling of ‘somebody watching you’ highlights the troubling memories Qargha has about his time there. Exiles associate negative feelings with their home countries. Labelling America as ‘spiritually devoid’ highlights Qargha’s affinity for religion, whereas Americans are ‘concerned mostly about image’. Exiles are concerned about ‘preserving’ their religious identities.
I was not tempted to fit in with American kids. By the age of 15 or 16, I was fully grounded in Islam. I was on the soccer team so I got to know a lot of people, but I didn’t socialize with them. Drinking and other things did not attract me. When you have an Islamic worldview, and you want to protect it, especially as a young man, it’s very difficult. In Islam, the idea of dating as we know it here doesn’t exist. There is no playing around. When you’re ready, you can meet people for the sake of marriage.
Being ‘fully grounded in Islam’ and not being ‘tempted to fit in’ reiterates Qargha’s desire to preserve his religious identity. ‘Drinking and other things’ are a barrier to socialising. An exile’s home culture may prevent them from wholly assimilating into the host culture. Positioning the ‘Islamic worldview’ at odds with the American lifestyle of ‘drinking’ and ‘playing around’ evokes ideas about the Clash of Civilisations.
My uncle, Sibghatullah Mojaddedi, is a political and spiritual leader in Afghanistan who declared jihad against the Russians. He helped me put things in perspective, and that is why I am grateful to him. The fact that they were fighting, but they did not hate the Russians, they just hated what they did, that is an Islamic worldview. It is a misconception that jihad means holy war. It can have a martial aspect to it, but it has other aspects, like a struggle with yourself, your ego.
The term ‘jihad’ carries negative connotations in the context of the War on Terror. Mojaddedi is portrayed as a positive force for helping Qargha ‘put things in perspective’ and fighting the Russians without hating them, thereby representing an enlightened ideal. Clarifying the meaning of ‘jihad’ as a ‘struggle with yourself’ presents it as a positive spiritual endeavour.
I saw the events of 9/11 on the news, when I was taking my aunt to social services. The first thing we said was, “Oh God, please don’t let this be a Muslim.” It was a shock to anybody who had a heart, who had any humanity. But to know it was a Muslim was a bigger shock. It had a big impact on the Muslim community. When you went to the store, you were eyed with suspicion. We felt like the blacks of the 1960s, especially women, who are displaying their religion by covering their hair. We didn’t have to defend the terrorists; we had to defend ourselves.
Recalling ‘the events of 9/11’ as a ‘shock to anybody who had a heart’ draws on a shared sense of tragedy and humanity felt by all Americans. Referencing the Civil Rights Movement places the Muslim community in the same social position as African-Americans: second-class citizens. The phrase ‘we had to defend ourselves’ highlights how Muslims often feel under attack by the Western media.
As a result, there was the Patriot Act and the FBI coming to people’s houses. They came to my office because I’m involved in the community and asked me questions. Some were ridiculous: “Do you know anybody interested in weapons of mass destruction?” Islam does not teach you to kill yourself or take innocent life. There is no justification for that in Islam. What happened has to do with people who are frustrated with the foreign policy of the United States. But America did change for Muslims after that. A lot of people were intimidated.
The term ‘ridiculous’ suggests that the power the government exercises via the Patriot Act is arbitrary and used to ‘intimidate’ people. The assertion that ‘Islam does not teach you to kill yourself or take an innocent life’ challenges the dominant discourse that associates Islam with terrorism. Emphasising that ‘America did change for Muslims’ after 9/11 highlights government policy’s significant impact on the identities and experiences of Muslims living in America.
But it also showed the beauty of America. In the days after 9/11 we had cards and flowers and candles from neighbors and other people just to let us know that we still had friends and that they didn’t think we were like the terrorists. It was very consoling, a beautiful gesture.
The phrase ‘beauty of America’ is a positive evaluation that implies a strong emotional attachment to the country. The term ‘friends’ implies a close affinity towards Americans that do not share the same religious identity as Qargha.
America is a good land. I got to meet the Islamic world in America. In Afghanistan, there were only Afghan Muslims. Here, there are Egyptians, Moroccans, black Africans. I saw all these colors and creations. This is God’s land, and God chose me to be on this land, so I desire good for America. On a more practical level, I wish that nothing changes our freedom here. Let America be America the way it was intended. -As told to Bret Schulte
The sentence ‘I got to meet the Islamic World in America’ suggests that living in America has strengthened Qargha’s religious identity. The statement ‘this is God’s land, and God chose me to be on this land, so I desire good for America’ demonstrates a spiritually reinforced love for America. Ending with ‘let America be America the way it was intended’ implies a shared vision of what America should be like that anyone can buy into regardless of background.
Islamic State’s tactics were so brutal that it was disowned by Al-Qaeda.
The following essay was originally submitted as an assignment for my university and was graded as a first-class essay.
Since the 7/7 Bombings, Islamist terror has posed an ever-lingering threat in the minds of the British public, becoming a mainstay on the policymaking agenda. At the very heart of the UK’s counter-terrorism strategy lies the controversial Prevent programme, which has long stood accused of transforming “nurseries, schools, universities, hospitals, and other key sites of social welfare into sites of discrimination, racism and exclusion” (Amnesty International UK, 2023). With the release of the long-awaited Shawcross review once again sparking debate about the ethicality and effectiveness of Britain’s Prevent programme, the question must be asked: do policymakers really understand Islamist terror and the best way to counter it?
In this essay, I comprehensively analyse Islamist terror and critically assess Prevent to highlight how misconceptions about terrorism have contributed to flawed policy delivery. In the first section, I introduce the concept of Islamist terror with a brief overview of its historical origins. In the second section, I discuss the prevailing theory of terrorism and the ideological underpinnings of Islamism via the case studies of Al-Qaeda and Islamic State to uncover the primary cause of Islamist terror: ideology. In the third section, I outline Prevent’s operational framework, outlining how it falls short of sufficiently addressing the problem of radicalisation. In the final section, I conclude with a recap of the main arguments made in sections one through three.
Introducing Islamist Terror
The UN minimally defines terrorism as the coercion of populations or governments via violent criminal acts that provoke a sense of terror, such as bombing and hostage-taking (UN Security Council, 2004). In particular, Islamist terror can be defined as terrorism carried out by organisations and individuals primarily motivated by varying interpretations of Islamic political principles or by Muslim religious and communal identity generally referred to as Islamism (Piazza, 2009). Regarding methodology, Islamist groups employ various tactics, from kidnappings to executions. That said, none is more closely associated with Islamist terror than the notorious suicide attack (Choi & Brown, 2022). In terms of distribution, most terror attacks occur in Muslim-majority countries. In 2022, 80% of all terror-related deaths occurred in Burkina Faso, Mali, Somalia, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Syria, Nigeria, Niger and Iraq (Institute for Economics & Peace, 2023, p. 14).
The historical origin of Islamist terror is subject to considerable debate, and due to its proximity to a major world religion, discussions are inevitably shrouded in religious polemics. Critics of Islam often claim that terrorism is intrinsically linked to and has been a feature of the religion from its inception, citing the early Kharijites as the first manifestation of Islamic extremism (Warraq, 2017). Some go even further, perpetuating the absurd idea that the “world of Islam” invented modern terrorism by paradoxically referring to the medieval Order of Assassins based in 10th-century Persia (McAlister, 2005, p. 219). However, when one considers the excess of violence and terrorism committed by all sorts of religious groups, from the 1st-century Jewish Sicarii Zealots to the contemporary Hindu Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), the baselessness of such claims becomes immediately apparent. And while it is true that violence has indeed played a part in Islamicate history – just like it has in the rest of human history – Islamist terror is only a relatively recent phenomenon.
One of the first major instances of modern Islamist terror – terrorism primarily motivated by Islamism as opposed to other ideologies – was the 1981 Assassination of Egyptian President Anwar Sadat. Sadat’s regime sought to modernise Egypt by normalising relations with Israel and the West via his Infitah policy, alienating those segments of society who viewed Sadat’s regime as promoting anti-Islamic principles, eventually prompting Egyptian Islamic Jihad member Khalid al-Islambouli to take matters into his own hands assassinating Sadat in full view of the public during Egypt’s annual victory parade. The event came to symbolise the culmination of decades of growing Islamist sentiment in Egypt and beyond (Gerges, 2018, pp. 314-342).
In the decades following Sadat’s assassination, Islamist sentiment continued to grow, particularly during the Soviet-Afghan War, which saw the emergence of Al-Qaeda from the Western-backed Afghan Mujahideen. In 2001, Al-Qaeda carried out its infamous 9/11 Attacks prompting the US to launch its international War on Terror. The following two decades saw the devastating Iraq War, the Arab Spring, the rise and fall of Islamic State, and the Taliban’s successful insurgency in Afghanistan. During the height of the War on Terror, four Islamist groups – Islamic State, Boko Haram, the Taliban and Al-Qaeda – were responsible for 74% of all terror-related deaths in 2015, marking Islamist terror as one of the most deadliest forms of terrorism in recent history (Institute for Economics & Peace, 2016, p. 4).
Analysing Islamist Terror
Terrorism as a phenomenon is best explained using David Rapoport’s famous Wave Theory, which asserts that modern terrorism consists of four consecutive waves: anarchist, nationalist, new left, and religious (Rapoport, 2004). Each of the four waves of terrorism is unique in its own right but can broadly be divided into what scholars term ‘old’ and ‘new’ terrorism, with the first three waves coinciding with the former and the fourth wave coinciding with the latter. The old terrorism of the first three waves is characterised by well-defined political goals and carefully calibrated violence aimed at attracting popular support. Think of the Irish Republican Army or the Indian Naxalites. Meanwhile, the new terrorism of the fourth wave does not care for popular support but rather seeks to wrought unspeakable carnage in the name of religion. “It is the anti-order of the new world order of the twenty-first century” (Juergensmeyer, 2000, p. 158). In addition to the original four waves, a growing number of scholars have begun sharing their predictions about the possible nature of a fifth wave, with ideas ranging from lone cyber terrorists to terrorist semi-states (Kaplan, 2008) (Auger, 2020). However, for the purposes of this essay, I will be focusing on the regnant religious wave.
According to Rapoport, “Islam is at the heart of the wave” (Rapoport, 2013, p. 295). Labelling a world religion responsible for an entire generation of terrorism is problematic for obvious reasons. Theory inevitably influences practice, and – as I demonstrate in the next section – such a theory can have regrettable consequences. But not only that, as Rapoport is well aware, Muslims are not the only perpetrators of religious terror. The 1992 Babri Masjid Demolition, 1994 Hebron Massacre, and 1995 Tokyo Subway Sarin Attack are a few examples that spring to mind. Furthermore, it is important to note that religious terror is not caused by religion alone but rather a coalescence of political, social, and ideological circumstances couched in religious rhetoric (Juergensmeyer, 2004, p. 10). That said, there is no denying the prominence of Islamist terror as the prevailing form of terrorism over the previous four decades. Thus, I consider Rapoport’s problematic observation a simple case of poor word choice; ‘Islam’, the religion, may not be at the heart of the wave, but ‘Islamism’, the political ideology that precipitates ‘Islamist’ terror, most certainly is.
This begs the question: how do we address Islamist terror? To answer, we must first understand the general causal factors of terrorism. Broadly speaking, there are three main categories of factors that contribute to modern terrorism: socio-economic factors, psychological factors, and ideological factors (Wojciechowski, 2017, pp. 63-66).
For terrorism to take root, certain permissive socio-economic conditions, such as poverty and unemployment, must exist to generate and intensify radical attitudes (Newman, 2006, p. 764). Globalisation stands out as a particularly significant factor, as it threatens local societal norms and economic standing, leading to intercultural conflict, especially in the global south (Stevens, 2002). As it stands, less-developed countries experience the greatest threat from terrorist activity (Institute for Economics & Peace, 2023, pp. 20-30). Furthermore, terrorist organisations often rely on international markets and foreign regimes for financial backing. For instance, the Taliban generates funding by cultivating and exporting opium (Clarke, 2015, pp. 113-133).
Radical attitudes often occur in individuals exhibiting specific psychological processes, such as hatred, prejudice, injustice and trauma (Horgan, 2003). This is evidenced by the prevalence of ‘us-versus-them’ narratives found in all manner of terrorist movements and individual actors. For example, the murderers of British soldier Lee Rigby were motivated by feelings of injustice and hatred towards the West. Another shared characteristic among terrorist groups is the belief that ‘the cause’ takes precedence over everything, including one’s own life, leading terrorists to engage in destructive and violent activities. Nowhere is this more pronounced than in the case of Islamist terror and its glorification of martyrdom (Moghadam, 2008).
At the heart of every terrorist movement lies an ideology that channels radical attitudes, legitimising violence as a valid means to enact its goals. In the case of Islamist terror, this ideology is Islamism which emerged as a response to encroaching European influence over the Islamicate world following the abolishment of the Ottoman caliphate in 1924. Early Islamists sought to define Islam as a political system to counterweight other major ideologies of the time and legitimised their new vision by proclaiming a return to the true teachings of the Qur’an and Sunnah (Roy, 1994, p. 35). However, Islam is not a monolith, and there are nearly as many interpretations of the Qur’an and Sunnah as there are Muslims, as reflected by the multitude of militant and non-militant political movements that fall under the umbrella of Islamism, each with different ideas about what Islamic governance should look like. This has led some to accuse the terms ‘Islamism’ and ‘Islamist’ of being too wide and flexible to be considered useful (Valbjørn, 2017).
Nevertheless, the numerous Islamist movements can be broadly grouped into three streams: electoral, authoritarian and revolutionary (Gaub, 2014). As typified by groups such as the Muslim Brotherhood and Jamaat-e-Islami, electoral Islamism calls for society’s gradual and progressive re-Islamisation and the establishment of Islamic governance via participation in existing political structures. On the other hand, authoritarian Islamism refers to existing regimes that frame themselves as legitimate Islamic governments, imposing their specific brand of Islamic theology on domestic and foreign populations, such as Saudi Arabia’s Wahhabi doctrine. Meanwhile, revolutionary Islamism – the object of this analysis – asserts that existing political structures must be violently overthrown to establish proper Islamic governance. Despite these differences, the three streams are not discrete, and movements may shift from one stream to another, as was the case during the 1979 Iranian Revolution when Ruhollah Khomeini’s revolutionary Islamist movement overthrew the Iranian Shahdom and established a new theocratic authoritarian regime.
The beginnings of revolutionary Islamism can be traced to the ideas of Sayyid Qutb, a leading member of the Muslim Brotherhood during the 1950s and 1960s, who felt that the group’s gradual and progressive approach wasn’t conducive to the establishment of proper Islamic governance. In the preface to his seminal work Ma’alim fi al-Tariq – Milestones in English – Qutb claims that the entire world, both Muslim and non-Muslim, has reverted to a state of Jahiliyyah, meaning godless ignorance embodied by capitalist and communist systems. If Jahiliyyah is the disease, then, according to Qutb, violent Jihad, meaning struggle against the enemies of Islam and their structures of Jahiliyyah, is the cure. He identifies two such enemies of Islam: the near enemy, Muslims that have supposedly strayed from Islamic teachings, and the far enemy, non-Muslims that perpetuate anti-Islamic lifestyles (Qutb, 1964). Following his execution in 1966, Qutb’s revolutionary framework has gone on to influence every major Islamist terror group, both Sunni and Shia (Belt, 2006).
Having understood Islamism’s ideological underpinnings, we must now turn our attention to the terror groups that digest its teachings. To that end, I have chosen to conduct a brief comparative study of Al-Qaeda and Islamic State as both feature prominently in the public consciousness yet represent two distinct manifestations of Qutb’s revolutionary approach.
Emerging out of the Afghan Mujahideen in the late 1980s, Al-Qaeda soon evolved into an international network of Islamist terror cells drawing global attention with its infamous 9/11 Attacks. Over two decades later, in the wake of the Iraq War, Islamic State split from Al-Qaeda, declaring itself a caliphate in 2014. While both organisations have their foundations in Qutbism, they have since ideologically evolved and diverged in response to their differing prioritised targets. Al-Qaeda’s preoccupation with attacking the militarily superior West – the far enemy – has forced it to embrace a big tent approach focused on forming alliances and coalitions with various Islamist factions, such as the Taliban, despite ideological differences. Meanwhile, Islamic State’s focus on local Muslim regimes – the near enemy – has pushed it towards adopting an uncompromising system of Islamic governance aimed at preserving its territorial holdings, leading to clashes with other Islamist terror groups, including Al-Qaeda (Kamolnick, 2017, pp. xv-xxiv).
Al-Qaeda and Islamic State share the same goal of establishing global Islamic governance yet follow two contrasting grand strategies. Islamic State’s strategy involves destabilising regimes to ensure the swift annexation of territory before immediately engaging in the re-Islamisation of its conquered populations. This process of re-Islamisation follows extreme interpretations of Islamic law, leaving no room for deviation, thereby isolating Islamic State from other Islamist groups. In comparison, Al-Qaeda takes a more gradual approach, seeking to free all Muslims from the structures of Jahiliyyah by co-opting local Islamist movements and embedding itself in popular uprisings before beginning the re-Islamisation of Muslim society. This strategy makes Al-Qaeda the more pragmatic and less exclusionary of the two organisations. Simply put: “[Islamic State] is a political extremist actor, while [Al-Qaeda] has become an extremist political actor” (Wilson Center, 2016, pp. 6-8).
Al-Qaeda and Islamic State’s ideological and strategic differences are reflected in their respective organisational structures and preferred tactics. Al-Qaeda follows a decentralised structure, relying on a loose network of affiliated groups and individuals, allowing for greater autonomy among its regional branches (Habeck, 2019). This ensures that the organisation can continue to absorb a diverse range of Islamist groups into its network without risking collapse into infighting. It also provides the clandestine flexibility needed to perform large-scale theatrical attacks against symbolic Western institutions. On the other hand, Islamic State follows a more centralised and hierarchical organisational structure, dividing its territories into provinces headed by appointed governors (Quivooij, 2015, p. 7). During the height of its power, Islamic State favoured conventional warfare tactics, successfully capturing large swaths of Iraq and Syria. However, since losing all its major territories, it has begun embracing the more theatrical approach practised by Al-Qaeda with incidents such as the Manchester Arena Bombing. Despite their differences, both Al-Qaeda and Islamic State devote significant time to producing propaganda with the aim of normalising violent Jihad and radicalising disenfranchised Muslims worldwide (Europol, 2022).
This brings us back to the question at hand: how do we address Islamist terror? Of the three types of causal factors, I’d argue socio-economic conditions and psychological processes are but precursors to the motivator: ideology. They are the bullet and the gun; ideology is what determines whether an individual pulls the trigger. A study by Mark Juergensmeyer revealed that three factors are responsible for ending religious terror: infighting, a loss of faith in the ideology, and opportunities for non-violent alternatives (Juergensmeyer, 2022). As such, the key to ending Islamist terror lies in the ideological deconstruction of revolutionary Islamism (Alkaff & Mahzam, 2018, p. 58; Kamolnick, 2017, pp. 191-197; Wilson Center, 2016, p. 39).
Assessing Prevent
The UK’s counter-terrorism strategy, CONTEST, consists of four principal strands: Prevent, Pursue, Protect and Prepare. The most controversial strand, Prevent – the object of this assessment – focuses on tackling the problem of radicalisation to reduce terrorist intent. Building on this, Pursue focuses on disrupting terrorist actors and their operations to reduce terrorist capability. Coming from a more defensive angle, Protect focuses on strengthening existing security infrastructure to reduce the UK’s vulnerability to terrorism. Similarly, Prepare focuses on enhancing responses to terrorist attacks to reduce the impact of terrorism. By reducing intent, capability, vulnerability and impact, CONTEST aims to reduce the overall risk of terrorism (HM Government, 2018, p. 27).
Prevent is comprised of three key objectives. The first objective is to address the primary motivator of terrorism – ideology – by “galvanising the rejection of terrorist narratives” (HM Government, 2018, p. 33). To do this, Prevent carries out a two-pronged assault by working with civil society organisations to educate the general public on the folly of terrorism while simultaneously suppressing terrorist propaganda. From 2010 to 2018, the Police Counter Terrorism Internet Referral Unit worked with communication service providers to remove over 300,000 pieces of terrorist-related content from the internet (Counter Terrorism Policing, 2018). In the year ending 31st March 2021, Prevent funded 225 community-based projects, reaching over 133,000 participants (Home Office, 2021a).
The second objective is to “safeguard and support those most at risk of radicalisation through early intervention” (HM Government, 2018, p. 31). Under section 26 of the Counter-Terrorism and Security Act 2015, public sector authorities must undergo training to identify and refer at-risk individuals to Prevent for further investigation. If an individual is found to be vulnerable, they may be offered support via Channel, a confidential multi-agency safeguarding programme. In the year ending 31st March 2022, 6,406 individuals were referred to Prevent in England and Wales, 13% of whom participated in the Channel programme (Home Office, 2023a).
The third and final objective is to reduce reoffending by “enabling those who have already engaged in terrorism to disengage and rehabilitate” (HM Government, 2018, p. 40). This is primarily carried out by the mandatory Desistance and Disengagement Programme, which provides one-to-one support to individuals convicted and suspected of terror-related offences via specialist intervention providers. Since its introduction in 2016, over 500 participants have taken part in the programme (Home Office, 2023b).
Since its inception, Prevent and the broader CONTEST strategy has consistently identified Islamist terror as the primary threat to the UK’s national security despite recognising the rise of right-wing extremism in recent years (HM Government, 2006, pp. 6-8; 2009, pp. 21-52; 2011a, pp. 13-21; 2011b, pp. 20-37; 2018, pp. 15-24). Between 2016 and 2022, there was a total of 36,677 Prevent referrals, a third of which related to concerns about Islamist terror. Of these 12,203 referrals regarding Islamist terror, only 11% were adopted as Channel cases (Home Office, 2017; 2018a; 2018b; 2019; 2020; 2021b; 2023a).
On a putative level, the Prevent programme offers a comprehensive solution to the issue of Islamist radicalisation. That said, critics have raised several concerns about the ethicality and effectiveness of its stringent pre-emptive measures.
The foremost charge laid against Prevent is the accusation that it unfairly targets the British Muslim community, leading to discrimination and stigmatisation (Holmwood & Aitlhadj, 2022, pp. 5-6). The programme’s emphasis on identifying extremism within Muslim communities promotes the fallacious narrative that all terrorists are Muslim (Corbin, 2017). A narrative that Western media outlets have long since promoted: atrocities committed by Muslims receive six times more coverage and are nine times more likely to be associated with the term ‘terrorism’ than those committed by white supremacists (Hanif, 2020). This, in turn, contributes to existing feelings of marginalisation and lends credence to the ‘us-versus-them’ narratives that Islamist terror groups rely on to radicalise vulnerable individuals.
Secondly, there are also concerns that Prevent is based on flawed understandings of radicalisation, as evidenced by the vast majority of referrals failing to make it onto the Channel programme. This indicates that Prevent training has failed to properly educate public sector authorities on the tell-tale signs of radicalisation. In particular, the disproportionately high number of Islamist referrals seems to result from the misguided belief that religiosity equals extremism. For instance, take the case of a 15-year-old boy who was referred to Prevent for refusing to participate in mixed PE sessions and requesting time to attend Friday prayers (Holmwood & Aitlhadj, 2022, p. 58). On the contrary, academic research supports the view that Muslim religiosity entails a positive sense of national identity (Karlsen & Nazroo, 2015).
Another charge laid against Prevent is that it negatively impacts freedom of expression by forcing individuals to engage in self-censorship out of fear of being reported as potential terrorists (Younis & Jadhav, 2019). This only further isolates vulnerable individuals making them more susceptible to Islamist influence. Only by sharing potentially extremist views can society engage in the ideological deconstruction of terrorist narratives necessary to prevent radicalisation. Furthermore, critics have also pointed out the potential for Prevent to be weaponised against legitimate political dissent, thus tying into broader fears about the UK’s gradual evolution into a police state via the process of securitisation (Mohammed & Siddiqui, 2013).
Despite these valid concerns, the government’s Independent Review of Prevent, led by William Shawcross, concluded that the programme was not Islamophobic, stating “Islamism as an ideology is not the same as Islam as a faith [and] it is not anti-Muslim to try to prevent the spread of that brutal ideology” (Shawcross, 2023, p. 4). As of March 2022, only 16% of Prevent referrals were in relation to Islamist terror compared to 22% the previous year, an overall decrease of 72% since 2017 (Home Office, 2023a). It remains to be seen whether this trend will continue or reverse in the subsequent years following Shawcross’ call to refocus Prevent’s efforts on tackling Islamist terror (Shawcross, 2023, pp. 7-8). What is certain, however, is that Prevent has played a significant role in the marginalisation of British Muslims, creating the very conditions which allow Islamism to persist.
Conclusion
To recap, I began this essay by briefly introducing Islamist terror – terrorism carried out by organisations and individuals primarily motivated by revolutionary Islamism – highlighting its preferred tactics, distribution and historical origins. Contrary to what religious polemicists may claim, I emphasised that Islamism is a relatively recent phenomenon, a product of the 20th century.
In the second section, I delved into a deep analysis of Islamist terror, employing Rapoport’s Wave Theory to understand its place within the broader context of terrorism and clarifying the distinction between Islam as a religion and Islamism as the political ideology driving Islamist terror. I then discussed the three factors contributing to terrorism, identifying ideological factors as the primary motivator with socio-economic factors and psychological factors as necessary precursors.
Focusing on the ideological underpinnings of Islamist terror, I examined the three streams of Islamism – electoral, authoritarian and revolutionary – before highlighting Qubtism as a significant influence on all major Islamist terror groups. Following this, I conducted a comparative study of Al-Qaeda and Islamic State to demonstrate their distinct applications of Qubt’s revolutionary ideology and contrasting strategies in pursuing the establishment of global Islamic governance. I ended the section by highlighting that the key to ending Islamist terror lies in the ideological deconstruction of revolutionary Islamism.
In the third section, I began by providing an overview of Prevent’s operational tenets and objectives, including statistical information where appropriate, before highlighting some of the key criticisms lodged against it. Despite its noble goal of protecting vulnerable individuals from the threat of radicalisation, Prevent has done more harm than good. The programme’s deliberate targeting of the British Muslim community has contributed to marginalisation, precipitating feelings of distrust and injustice that lead to radicalisation. Simply put, Prevent is contributing to the very phenomena it wishes to stop.
In conclusion, addressing Islamist terror requires a multifaceted approach that considers socio-economic conditions, psychological processes, and ideological influences. Policymakers must strive for nuanced understanding and tailor counter-terrorism strategies accordingly. It is crucial that policymakers continuously reassess and refine their approaches to stay ahead of evolving forms of terrorism and ensure the safety and security of the public. By acknowledging the complexities and specificities of Islamist terror, more effective and targeted measures can be developed to counter its persistent threat.
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Libya’s ongoing instability is a direct result of NATO’s controversial intervention under the Responsibility to Protect.
The following essay was originally submitted as an assignment for my university and was graded as a 2:1.
Since modernity, the Westphalian System has defined international relations. In principle, the treaties of Westphalia assert that every state, no matter how big or small, has exclusive sovereignty over its territories, as enshrined in Article 2 of the United Nations Charter (UN, 1945, p. 2). Thus, it remained until the 2005 World Summit, where the world’s nations gathered together to institute a new global commitment, the Responsibility to Protect (RtoP), aimed at preventing human atrocities.
Despite its noble goals, the RtoP has been subject to considerable criticism, with many accusing the doctrine of infringing on national sovereignty and legitimising Western interventionism. On the other hand, proponents of the RtoP like to point towards successful missions in Kenya and the Ivory Coast as exemplary models of diplomatic action. Given the doctrine’s controversial legacy, this essay aims to explain, assess, and review refinements to the RtoP. In the first section, I explore the ethical principles and legal framework of the RtoP. In the second section, I discuss its political implications and practical limitations. Following this, I briefly review refinements to the RtoP before concluding with my final thoughts on why the RtoP is a fundamentally good idea in need of reform.
Explaining the Responsibility to Protect
Prior to the RtoP, there was no legal framework for carrying out intervention on an international level. Instead, states were expected to manage humanitarian atrocities on a unilateral and bilateral level without the input of the wider global community. For example, the 1971 Bangladesh Liberation War, which saw the genocide of 300,000 to 3,000,000 Bengalis at the hands of the Pakistani government, was only stopped by rival India’s timely military intervention (Rummel, 1998, pp. 153-163). Despite international condemnation, the United Nations (UN) failed to organise any humanitarian efforts.
However, even in instances when the UN attempted to play a more active role in managing human atrocities, it proved largely ineffective. The 1992-1995 Bosnian War involved the genocide of over 30,000 Bosniaks despite a sizable UN presence (Calic, 2013, p. 140). Similarly, the UN Assistance Mission to Rwanda is regarded as a complete debacle for failing to prevent the Rwandan genocide, in which well over 500,000 Tutsi were killed, due to limitations in its rules of engagement (Guichaoua, 2020). Without a recognised framework to work within, the UN and international community were left to stand by and watch as human atrocities unfolded around the world.
Policymakers sought to change this by developing a legal framework that would commit states to collectively intervene to prevent human atrocities. The first call for such a commitment can be attributed to the late UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan’s millennial report entitled We the peoples: the role of the United Nations in the twenty-first century (Annan, 2000, pp. 31-39). Within the same year, the African Union (AU) became the first multi-national union to adopt the commitment under Article 4 of its constitutive act, which permits the AU to intervene in a member state under “grave circumstances” (AU, 2000, p. 7).
The following year, the International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty (ICISS) released its report on the RtoP. This report outlined three specific sub-responsibilities that together form the overall RtoP (ICISS, 2001, p. XI):
The Responsibility to Prevent: States must address the root causes and direct causes of human atrocities. Prevention options should always be exhausted before intervention is considered.
The Responsibility to React: States must respond to human atrocities with the appropriate measures, including sanctions, international prosecution, and, in extreme cases, military intervention. Less coercive and intrusive measures should be applied before more coercive and intrusive measures.
The Responsibility to Rebuild: States must provide full assistance with recovery, reconstruction and reconciliation following an intervention. The rebuilding process should include measures to prevent human atrocities from occurring in the future.
More importantly, the ICISS report also outlined four criteria that must be met for military intervention to be considered legitimate (ICISS, 2001, pp. XII-XIII):
Just Cause Threshold: Military intervention must only be pursued if a serious and imminent threat of human atrocity exists due to deliberate state action, neglect, or failure.
Precautionary Principles: Military intervention must be primarily motivated by the need to protect human life, a last resort after all other options have been exhausted, proportional to the situation at hand, and have a reasonable chance of success.
Right Authority: Military intervention must require the approval of the UN security council.
Operational Principles: Military intervention must have an unambiguous mandate at all times, clear communication among all involved parties, maximum possible coordination with humanitarian organisations, incrementally apply force, follow appropriate rules of engagement, and accept that force protection cannot become the primary objective.
The RtoP was subsequently enshrined in paragraphs 138 and 139 of the 2005 World Summit Outcome, defining human atrocity as “genocide, war crimes, ethnic cleansing and crimes against humanity” (UN, 2005, p. 30). In addition to stressing the need for state cooperation in exercising the RtoP and establishing early warning capabilities, the 2005 World Summit emphasised the importance of acting in accordance with the United Nations Charter, notably Chapters VI, VII, and VIII (UN, 1945, pp. 8-11). Four years later, UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon introduced the three pillars as a way to operationalise the RtoP (Ki-moon, 2009, pp. 8-10):
Pillar I – The Protection Responsibilities of the State: States are responsible for protecting their population from genocide, war crimes, ethnic cleansing, and crimes against humanity.
Pillar II – International Assistance and Capacity-building: States must assist each other in their protection responsibilities.
Pillar III – Timely and Decisive Response: If any state fails to fulfil its protection responsibilities, other states must take collective action to protect the population.
Assessing the Responsibility to Protect
On a fundamental level, the RtoP is predicated on the radical idea that state sovereignty implies responsibility for state populations, including citizens and non-citizens. Therefore, when a situation arises that endangers a state’s population, and the state fails to act, it falls to the international community to intervene. In such a situation, “the principle of non-intervention yields to the international responsibility to protect” (ICISS, 2001, p. XI). In doing so, RtoP tacitly challenges the core ideal of the Westphalian System – the sacrosanctity of state sovereignty – by creating room for legitimate intervention on humanitarian grounds.
In theory, no matter how powerful or weak a state is, it must ensure the safety of its population lest it forfeits its right to inviolable sovereignty. For this reason, the RtoP represents a paradigm shift in international law (Slaughter, 2006). Under the Westphalian System, states were free to do whatever they pleased within their territories so long as they did not harm another sovereign. Sovereignty was unconditional. Of course, in practice, powerful states could still interfere in the internal workings of weaker states with impunity. In contrast, under the RtoP, sovereignty is now conditional on the state protecting its population from human atrocity, and every state is to be held accountable to the international community.
As highlighted before, the world without the RtoP saw countless human atrocities, from the Armenian genocide in the Ottoman Empire to the Holocaust in Nazi Germany. But what does the world with RtoP look like? And is this world really any different from the one before?
The RtoP was first implemented during the 2007 Kenyan Crisis (GCR2P, 2022). Following dubious elections, President Mwai Kibaki of the Party of National Unity (PNU) was sworn in as the president of Kenya in late December 2007. Supporters of the opposition, the Orange Democratic Party (ODM) led by Raila Odinga, immediately contested the election by arranging mass protests across the country. These protests eventually escalated into violence between ethnic Kikuyus, Luos and Kalenjins, resulting in the deaths of over 1,000 people and the displacement of a further 300,000 by early February the following year (Gettleman, 2008).
The international community sprung into action almost immediately. Within two weeks, the AU, supported by the UN and other key international groups, appointed a three-member Panel of Eminent African Personalities to mediate the conflict and find a peaceful solution. Former UN Secretary-General Annan led the panel alongside former Tanzanian President Benjamin Mkapa and humanitarian Graça Machel, wife of Nelson Mandela. They arrived in Kenya on the 22nd January, and by the end of the week, Kibaki and Odinga agreed to a 41-day mediation period. On the 28th February, following lengthy negotiations, both parties agreed to a power-sharing arrangement with Kibaki as President and Odinga as Prime Minister, finally ending the violence (Weiss, 2010).
The 2007 Kenyan Crisis demonstrates just how effective the RtoP can be when the international community rallies together. With diplomatic intervention, the PNU and ODM were able to overcome their differences without the need for military intervention. Had the international community refused to diplomatically intervene on the grounds of respecting Kenya’s sovereignty, there is no doubt that the violence would have continued to spiral out of control, and countless more people would have been killed. Unfortunately, not every case of intervention under the RtoP ends as it did in Kenya.
The first military intervention under the RtoP occurred during the first year of the ongoing 2011 Libyan Crisis (GCR2P, 2022). After 42 years of authoritarian rule under Colonel Muammar Gaddafi, civil war broke out in Libya as part of the wider Arab Spring. On the 15th February 2011, anti-government rallies were held in Benghazi, protesting the arrest of human rights lawyer Fethi Tarbel. Libyan security forces violently suppressed the demonstrations, intensifying anti-government sentiment and provoking nationwide revolts. By March, rebel forces had taken control of large swathes of eastern Libya, forming the National Transitional Council (NTC) in Benghazi. Five days later, Gaddafi initiated a gruelling counter-offensive, taking back most rebel-held cities before advancing on the rebel stronghold of Benghazi. By this point in the conflict, over 1,000 people had been killed, and at least 37,000 people had been displaced (Ki-moon, 2011).
With the death toll mounting, the UN security council passed Resolution 1973 on the 17th March, authorising military intervention “to protect civilians and civilian populated areas under threat of attack” (UNSC, 2011, p. 3). Two days later, French fighter jets destroyed several pro-Gaddaffi vehicles advancing on Benghazi, followed by the firing of over 110 cruise missiles by American and British submarines that destroyed the regime’s air defence capabilities. With the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO) now in command of the intervention, the NTC were able to halt the regime’s counter-offensive and begin advancing on Tripoli, ending the war on the 20th October with the death of Colonel Gaddafi. By the war’s end, 21,490 people were killed, with an additional 19,700 injured and 435,000 displaced (Daw, et al., 2015).
In the aftermath of the First Libyan Civil War, the country’s transition to stable democracy has been considerably hindered. Despite the international community formally recognising the NTC as Libya’s governing body, the reality on the ground was quite different, with various militias and armed groups taking control of different parts of the country. These groups eventually formed two competing factions during the 2014 elections, leading to the Second Libyan Civil War (Fitzgerald & Toaldo, 2016). Despite agreeing to a ceasefire on 21st August 2020, the future of Libya still looks pretty grim, with many arguing that life under Gaddafi was much more tolerable than the current state of affairs (Baspineiro, 2020).
The 2011 Libyan Crisis demonstrates just how damaging military intervention under RtoP can be. By simply propping up a new government and calling it a day, the international community left the country in a worse state than before the intervention. Had the UN security council respected Libya’s sovereignty by refusing to intervene, perhaps Gaddafi would have been able to defeat the rebels and institute peace. And while it is true that Gaddafi’s government would have continued to kill many people, it’s unlikely the number would have been much higher than those killed following the intervention and second civil war.
And so, the question must be asked: why did the RtoP work in Kenya but not in Libya?
One possible explanation is the spiral model, which asserts that peace is best preserved via appeasement and conciliation, as it was in the case of Kenya, rather than through the threat of punishment and military intervention used in Libya (Jervis, 1976, pp. 58-114). However, this analysis ignores the case-specific conditions that allowed intervention to succeed in Kenya and fail in Libya.
In Libya, longstanding grievances about Gaddafi’s controversial foreign policy had isolated him from the international community for most of his reign (Solomon & Swart, 2005). So, when the opportunity arose for those same aggrieved states to overthrow Gaddafi’s regime, they happily jumped at it. Gaddafi was too volatile for the international system. Meanwhile, in Kenya, the international community was relatively impartial between the ODM and PNU, so it didn’t matter what the intervention’s outcome looked like so long as peace was restored (Weiss, 2010). In short, the international community had the right intentions with Kenya and the wrong ones with Libya. As a result, no matter the nature of the intervention, diplomatic or military, it was destined for success in Kenya and doomed to fail in Libya. Ultimately, the disparity in outcome between Kenya and Libya is indicative of broader systemic issues that must be reformed if the RtoP is to be realised (Paris, 2014):
The Mixed-motives Problem: The RtoP rests on states having purely altruistic aims; however, states more often than not look out for their own self-interest, leading to botched interventions.
The Counterfactual Problem: The RtoP has to rely on counterfactual arguments to justify intervention, making it much harder to rally international support in those situations it is desperately needed.
The Conspicuous Harm Problem: When interventions are proposed, the immediate costs will be more apparent than the immediate benefits, causing support to dwindle.
The End-state Problem: Intervention can be a long process that may require states to take on extended mandates long after a human atrocity has been averted.
The Inconsistency Problem: The RtoP has been wholly inconsistent in its application, with many ongoing human atrocities receiving virtually no attention under the doctrine.
Refining the Responsibility to Protect
As the smoke cleared after the Frist Libyan Civil War, Brazil submitted its Responsibility while Protecting (RwP) note to the UN security council. While the RwP note was largely redundant for repeating a lot of the same points as the ICISS report, it did call for the strict chronological sequencing of RtoP’s three pillars and stressed a distinction between collective responsibility and collective security (Serbin & Pont, 2015, p. 175). The aim was to establish greater accountability under the RtoP by forcing the UN security council to conduct “comprehensive and judicious analysis of the possible consequences of military action on a case-by-case basis” and “to monitor and assess the manner in which resolutions are interpreted and implemented” (Viotti, 2011, p. 3). Doing so would have ensured that intervening states could no longer abuse the RtoP for their own self-interest as they did in Libya. On the other hand, such stringent regulation can take a lot of time to fulfil, something the victims of human atrocity do not have. As a result, detractors have accused RwP of paralysing the RtoP (Avezov, 2013).
Ultimately, the RwP note misses the point. While greater oversight may make some headway in solving the mixed-motives problem, it does not tackle the heart of what is holding back the RtoP: the permanent members of the UN security council, namely their right to veto. This is especially damaging in cases where permanent members or their allies are found to be violating the RtoP. For instance, the US and Russia have historically vetoed resolutions on Israeli-occupied Palestinian territory and the Syrian Civil War. Similarly, China has blocked every attempt to get the Uyghur Genocide on the international agenda (Rizvi, 2020). With this in mind, any effort to reform the RtoP must require the reformation of the UN security council itself, which ties into the wider debate surrounding UN institutional reform.
Conclusion
To recap, the RtoP was devised to prevent genocide, war crimes, ethnic cleansing and crimes against humanity. Under the doctrine, states are expected to cooperate in implementing the appropriate measures to prevent, react to and rebuild following such human atrocities. Furthermore, the international community may be called upon to carry out military intervention should the need arise. In such an event, strict rules outlining a just cause threshold, precautionary principles, the right authority and operational principles must be followed.
In theory, the RtoP challenges the very heart of the Westphalian System; however, in practice, systemic issues have meant that the doctrine has seen little success in tackling human atrocity and the Westphalian norms that allow it to continue. As exemplified by NATO during the First Libyan Civil War, powerful states and their allies can still do as they wish with impunity. Therefore, as it stands, the world with the RtoP is not very different from the one without it, especially when you consider the multitude of human atrocities that the RtoP has failed to address, from the Rohingya Genocide in Myanmar to the ethnic cleansing of Palestinians by the Israeli government.
In an attempt to reform the RtoP, Brazil proposed the idea of RwP to increase the accountability of intervening states. However, the concept misses the heart of the issue and only serves to justify encumbering oversight by the security council. The only way to truly realise the RtoP is through the institutional reform of the UN. Unfortunately, such reforms will take years of negotiation. In the meantime, victims of human atrocity will continue to suffer as the world looks away in the typical Westphalian manner.
While it is easy to fall into abject pessimism over all this, it is important to remember that, at the very least, the RtoP has spotlighted the issue of human atrocity on the international stage. This reason alone is enough to warrant it a fundamentally good idea. With time, I’m confident that the international community will find a way to streamline the RtoP into force for good that makes human atrocity a distant memory. And, for those staunch advocates of the Westphalia System, I’d like to end with the words of Annan: “if humanitarian intervention is, indeed, an unacceptable assault on sovereignty, how should we respond to a Rwanda, to a Srebrenica – to gross and systematic violations of human rights that offend every precept of our common humanity?” (Annan, 2000, p. 34).
References
Annan, K., 2000. We the peoples: the role of the United Nations in the twenty-first century, New York: UN.
AU, 2000. Constitutive Act of the African Union, Lomé: AU.
Avezov, X., 2013. ‘Responsibility while protecting’: are we asking the wrong questions?. [Online] Available at: https://www.sipri.org/node/409 [Accessed 30 April 2023].
Calic, M., 2013. Ethnic Cleansing and War Crimes, 1991–1995. In: C. Ingrao & T. A. Emmert, eds. Confronting the Yugoslav Controversies: A Scholars’ Initiative. West Lafayette: Purdue University Press, pp. 114-153.
Daw, M. A., El-Bouzedi, A. & Dau, A. A., 2015. Libyan armed conflict 2011: Mortality, injury and population displacement. African Journal of Emergency Medicine, 5(3), pp. 101-107.
Garwood-Gowers, A., 2013. The BRICS and the Responsibility to Protect in Libya and Syria. In: M. Dine & V. Sancin, eds. Responsibility to protect in theory and practice: papers presented at the Responsibility to Protect in Theory and Practice Conference 2013. Ljubljana: GV Zalozba, pp. 291-315.
Guichaoua, A., 2020. Counting the Rwandan Victims of War and Genocide: Concluding Reflections. Journal of Genocide Research, 22(1), pp. 125-141.
ICISS, 2001. The Responsibility to Protect, Ottawa: International Development Research Centre.
Jervis, R., 1976. Perception and Misperception in International Politics: New Edition. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Ki-moon, B., 2009. Implementing the Responsibility to Protect, New York: UN.
Ki-moon, B., 2011. Secretary-General Tells Security Council Time to Consider Concrete Action in Libya, as Loss of Time Means More Loss of Lives. [Online] Available at: https://press.un.org/en/2011/sgsm13418.doc.html [Accessed 30 April 2023].
Paris, R., 2014. The ‘Responsibility to Protect’ and the Structural Problems of Preventive Humanitarian Intervention. International Peacekeeping, 21(5), pp. 569-603.
Rummel, R. J., 1998. Statistics of Democide: Genocide and Mass Murder since 1900. Münster: LIT Verlag.
Serbin, A. & Pont, A. S., 2015. Latin America and the Responsibility to Protect: Divergent Views from the South?. Managua: CRIES.
Slaughter, A.-M., 2006. A New U.N. For a New Century. Fordham Law Review, 74(6), pp. 2961-2970.
Solomon, H. & Swart, G., 2005. Libya’s Foreign Policy in Flux. African Affairs, 104(416), pp. 469-492.
UN, 1945. Charter of the United Nations and the Statute of the International Court of Justice, San Franciso: UN.
UN, 2005. 2005 World Summit Outcome, New York: UN.
UNSC, 2011. Resolution 1973, New York: UN.
Viotti, M. L. R., 2011. Letter dated 9 November 2011 from the Permanent Representative of Brazil to the United Nations addressed to the Secretary-General , New York: UN.
Weiss, T. G., 2010. Halting atrocities in Kenya. Great Decisions, pp. 17-30.
In February 2022, Russian forces began a full-blown military invasion of Ukrainian territory.
The following essay was originally submitted as an assignment for my university and was graded as a 1st class essay.
The post-2014 hostility between Russia and NATO results from two conflicting geostrategic policies that have contributed to a negative relationship spiral between the two sides: NATO expansionism and Russian irredentism. To illustrate this, I demonstrate how the Russo-Georgian War and the ongoing Russo-Ukrainian War were borne out of necessity to counter NATO expansionism, giving rise to Russian irredentism. Following this, I present counterarguments to alternative explanations for the source of the ongoing conflict. To conclude, I assert that the spiral model best explains the rising hostilities between Russia and NATO.
Following the end of the cold war, NATO gradually extended membership to former Eastern Bloc states, traditionally considered part of Russia’s sphere of influence. Coupled with long-standing grievances over NATO’s involvement in the Kosovo War and concerns over NATO’s missile defence program, Russia viewed this expansion into eastern Europe as a threat to its security. This eventually came to a head at the 2008 Bucharest Summit, where NATO agreed to extend membership to Georgia and Ukraine. Doing so would have left Russia surrounded by what it views as a hostile military bloc. In response, Russia militarily supported separatist groups in Georgia later that year, recognising South Ossetia and Abkhazia as independent states. This effectively blocked Georgia from entry into NATO as other member states were unwilling to inherit the country’s ongoing territorial disputes. Thus, the Russo-Georgian War served as a way for Russia to protect itself from NATO expansionism and any threats it would pose to Russian security.
In a similar vein to the Russo-Georgian War, the ongoing Russo-Ukrainian War also halts NATO’s expansion by preventing Ukraine from joining the alliance. That said, there is one key difference between the two conflicts. In the case of Georgia, Russia did not annex any territory, instead opting to support the South Ossetia and Abkhazia separatists without absorbing them into the Russian Federation. Lending legitimacy to their respective causes was enough to dash Georgia’s hopes of joining NATO. However, if all Russia has to do to stop NATO expansion is support and recognise separatist states in Ukraine, why did Russia choose to annex Crimea in 2014? The answer lies in a critical change in Russian geostrategic policy post-2008: Russian irredentism.
Irredentism is a type of expansionist policy in which a state desires to annex territory based on shared history and strong ethnic ties. While both Ukraine and Georgia were formerly part of the Russian Empire and USSR, the ethnic Russian population of Georgia is only 0.7% compared to Ukraine’s 17.3%. Therefore, it would not have been strategically justified for Russia to annex Georgian territory during the Russo-Georgian War. In contrast, Russia has far stronger irredentist claims on Ukraine due to a sizable number of ethnic Russians and Russian-speaking Ukrainians concentrated in Crimea and eastern Ukraine. This irredentist reasoning subsequently formed the basis of Russia’s rationale for annexing Crimea. As Vladimir Putin stated in his Presidential Address on the 18th March 2014: “In people’s hearts and minds, Crimea has always been an inseparable part of Russia.” In the years since the annexation, Russian support for the war remains strong, thereby illustrating Russian irredentism’s effectiveness as a counterweight to NATO expansionism.
To recap, what started as a mutual desire for security has since spiralled into a conflict of competing geostrategic policies. In the post-Cold War period, both NATO and Russia sought to improve their individual security. For NATO, this meant following an expansionist policy of extending membership to former Eastern Bloc states. However, this threatened Russia’s security, provoking Russia to launch the Russo-Georgian War and begin following an irredentist policy of responsibility over Russians living in neighbouring countries. In response, the only way for NATO to ensure its security was to double down on its expansionist policy and strengthen ties between existing member states. This posed an even greater threat to Russia, provoking Russia to launch the Russo-Ukrainian War, the current source of hostility between Russia and NATO. In short, both parties have become increasingly hostile in response to the actions of the other, a clear example of the spiral model in effect.
That being said, geostrategic conflict is not the only reason cited as a cause of the Russo-Ukrainian War and ongoing hostilities between NATO and Russia. Some political commentators argue that there exists a fundamental rift between the democratic world and the authoritarian world. In their worldview, NATO represents the democratic ideal to which Russia’s authoritarian regime is an anathema. Hence why cooperation is impossible, and hostility is inevitable. However, when one considers that NATO enjoys close ties with authoritarian regimes such as Jordan and includes flawed democracies and hybrid regimes such as Romania and Turkey, the merit of this argument is considerably weakened. Evidently, NATO is more than willing to work with authoritarian regimes if it is to the advantage of its expansionist policy. Similarly, Russian supporters often claim that the recent invasion of Ukraine was done under a moral obligation to combat Neo-Nazism embodied by groups such as Ukraine’s Azov Regiment. This is also a weak argument given the prevalence of Neo-Nazism throughout Europe and Russia itself.
In conclusion, the hostility between Russia and NATO results from competing geostrategic policies and is best exemplified using the spiral model. NATO expansionism and Russian irredentism contributed to the escalating tension in the post-Cold War period. While other reasons have been cited for the conflict, such as the democracy-authoritarianism dichotomy and the moral problem of Neo-Nazism, evidence suggests that these factors take a backseat to the geopolitical realities. Ultimately, the solution to the NATO-Russia conflict lies in reconciling the mutual security interests of both parties via negotiation and compromise. Until this is realised, the spiral model will continue to play out, with each side responding to the other in a never-ending cycle of conflict.
The September 11 Attacks sparked global outrage and prompted the US to initiate the War on Terror.
The following essay was originally submitted as an assignment for my university and was graded as a 2:1.
In this essay, I aim to utilise Allen Repko and James Welch’s interdisciplinary approach to examine the global issue of terrorism (Repko & Welch, 2005). First, I will begin by defining terrorism and outlining my specific research questions. Then I will introduce the concept of interdisciplinarity, discussing its advantages and disadvantages. Following this, I will study terrorism in isolation through the lens of social policy, politics, and economics, highlighting how each discipline answers my research questions. To conclude, I will combine these insights to construct a more integrated understanding of terrorism before reflecting on how I found the process of using an interdisciplinary approach.
Defining Terrorism
In the absence of a single internationally agreed-upon definition, the UN minimally defines terrorism as “the intimidation or coercion of populations or governments through the threat or perpetration of violence, causing death, serious injury or the taking of hostages” (United Nations, 2023). Over the last decade, the global death toll from terrorism ranged from 8,200 in 2011 to 44,600 in 2014, averaging 26,000 people a year. In addition, terrorism poses a significant security risk to countries worldwide, particularly in the Middle East, Africa, and South Asia, which accounted for 95% of the deaths caused by terrorism in 2019 (Ritchie, et al., 2022). Given its global nature, it is imperative that scholars become accustomed to studying terrorism in the hopes of finding a sustainable solution. With this in mind, I aim to utilise interdisciplinarity to answer the following research questions:
What are the causes of terrorism?
What is the solution to terrorism?
Introducing Interdisciplinarity
In 1994, Michael Gibbons and his colleagues posited a new theory concerning the production of knowledge. They argued that knowledge production was undergoing a fundamental change at the end of the twentieth century, moving from what they called ‘Mode 1’ to ‘Mode 2’. Mode 1 refers to traditional knowledge generated within discrete disciplines (Gibbons, et al., 1994). A discipline is any self-contained domain of human experience with its own community of experts and distinctive components (Nissani, 1995). Furthermore, disciplines often focus on a specific subject area with their own rules and boundaries (Bridges, 2006). For example, geology is a discipline concerned with studying Earth and other astronomical objects. It has a community of experts known as geologists and distinctive components, such as geophysical surveys and the Theory of Plate Tectonics.
Meanwhile, Mode 2 refers to knowledge generated by different disciplines working together to solve a specific problem via a process known as interdisciplinarity (Gibbons, et al., 1994). Interdisciplinarity can be minimally defined as bringing together the distinctive components of two or more disciplines (Nissani, 1995). More precisely, interdisciplinarity involves integrating and synthesising knowledge and methods from different disciplines (Jensenius, 2012). For instance, environmental science practices interdisciplinarity by synthesising knowledge and methods from geology, ecology, and oceanography. Much of the knowledge generated in environmental science has gone on to inform policy surrounding climate change.
Before discussing the advantages and disadvantages of interdisciplinarity, it is worth noting how it differs from other knowledge production methods, such as multidisciplinarity and cross-disciplinarity. Multidisciplinarity involves different disciplines working together for a common purpose, each drawing on its own body of knowledge (Jensenius, 2012). Thus, unlike interdisciplinary studies, where a single researcher must become acquainted with different disciplines, multidisciplinary studies require a group of researchers to focus on a common issue, viewing it from the perspective of their individual disciplines. This parallel approach to study is considerably less integrative than interdisciplinarity, making it difficult for researchers to consolidate their knowledge and ideas (Borrego & Newswander, 2010).
Similarly, cross-disciplinarity involves engaging with the subject area of one discipline using the methods and knowledge from another (Jensenius, 2012). Therefore, cross-disciplinarity is the least integrative as it does not require researchers to engage with the tools or perspectives of another discipline, only its subject area. Given this, cross-disciplinarity is far less likely to produce any new meaningful insights regarding a particular topic or issue. Therefore, both multidisciplinarity and cross-disciplinarity fall short of interdisciplinarity when it comes to successful knowledge production.
The benefits and challenges of interdisciplinarity are best encapsulated by the term ‘breadth-over-depth’. If the different knowledge production methods were to exist on a spectrum, then traditional disciplinarity would have the most depth and least breadth, followed by cross-disciplinarity and multidisciplinarity. Interdisciplinarity exists on the other side of the spectrum with the most breadth but least depth. Accordingly, traditional disciplinarity is often characterised as having a narrow focus that poses an “obstacle to fluid and imaginative intellectual endeavour” (Bridges, 2006, p. 262). Meanwhile, interdisciplinary studies come across as “characteristically shallow” (Benson, 1982, p. 43).
The main challenge of using an interdisciplinary approach is limited time and resources. Traditional disciplinarity allows students and researchers to pool all their time and resources into a single subject, allowing for greater mastery over their chosen discipline. In contrast, interdisciplinarity requires students and researchers to divide their time and resources across multiple disciplines, preventing them from fully understanding any one discipline. Interdisciplinary research projects have significantly longer production times and increased ambiguity compared to traditional research projects. Consequently, interdisciplinary studies tend to receive limited recognition and support within traditional academic structures (Leahey, 2018). Therefore, interdisciplinarity is the least efficient method of knowledge production.
On the other hand, the main benefit of an interdisciplinary approach is its ability to recognise the multifaceted nature of complex global issues such as terrorism. Using a single discipline to address a global issue will only highlight the elements that are relevant to that discipline. For instance, strict economists will only notice the economic causes of terrorism, leading them to wrongly conclude that terrorism is solely the result of economic deprivation. Therefore, traditional disciplinarity is insufficient when addressing global issues (Okamura, 2019). However, interdisciplinarity encourages individuals to critically engage with the theories and methodologies of multiple disciplines, opening them up to fresh perspectives whilst simultaneously overcoming the inadequacies of any one discipline (Klein, 1990). Furthermore, interdisciplinary learning has the added benefit of developing advanced epistemological beliefs, metacognitive skills, creativity, and critical thinking (Stentoft, 2017). Thus, making it the ideal method for effectively addressing global issues.
In summary, the future of knowledge production lies in interdisciplinarity – the integration and synthesis of different disciplines – as opposed to multidisciplinarity and cross-disciplinarity. While interdisciplinary approaches may not be as efficient as traditional disciplinary approaches, they are more effective at addressing complex global issues. Accordingly, an interdisciplinary approach is crucial for highlighting the multiplicity of factors causing terrorism which is conducive to devising a viable solution that covers all bases.
Perspectives from Social Policy
Over the last two decades, social policy has become increasingly invested in the study of terrorism and how it relates to issues surrounding social welfare. Primarily drawing from the discipline of criminology, social policy recognises that terrorism has changed over time. In recent years, a growing number of social policy practitioners have begun distinguishing between what they term ‘old’ terrorism and ‘new’ terrorism.
According to David Rapoport, the history of modern terrorism can be divided into four waves: anarchist, nationalist/anti-colonial, new left, and religious (Rapoport, 2004). Each of these four waves of terrorism is characterised by unique socio-cultural environments, methodologies, ideologies, and organisational structures. For instance, the current religious wave, exemplified by Al-Qaeda, directly appeals to religious faith for its justification, whereas the nationalist wave, exemplified by the IRA, appealed to ideas about emancipatory struggle (Kaplan, 2016). Rapoport’s religious wave of terrorism coincides with what social policy practitioners call ‘new’ terrorism: the “anti-order of the new world order of the 21st century” (Juergensmeyer, 2000, p. 158). It is characterised by amorphous structures of organisation and indiscriminate violent spectacles inspired by religious extremism (Hattotuwa, 2007). Given these conclusions, it is clear that social policy views religious fanaticism as a major cause of modern terrorism. That being said, a growing minority of scholars have begun categorising a fifth wave of terrorism, the right-wing wave, centred around ideas about white supremacy (Auger, 2020).
In social policy, the purpose of terrorism studies is to determine how much of a threat it poses to social welfare. In the UK, this has spurred policymakers to create the UK Terror Threat Levels, a scale of five alert states ranging from low to critical that determine national security responses. Since its introduction in 2006, the UK threat level from international terrorism has not dropped below substantial (MI5, 2023). This is but a reflection of much greater anxiety and moral panic surrounding the threat of terrorism on a global scale that has pushed policymakers worldwide to devise increasingly authoritarian measures to address it via a process known as securitisation.
Securitisation refers to the state’s ability to transform common political issues into matters of national security, allowing it to pass extraordinary measures it would not be able to do otherwise (Buzan, et al., 1998). It is a practice that dates back to the early waves of terrorism when colonial powers instituted increasingly draconian methods in an attempt to stem the tide of nationalistic fervour. For example, the British Raj passed the Defence of India Act 1915, extending it under the Rowlatt Act in 1919, which allowed for the censorship of the press, arrests without warrant, indefinite detention without trial, and juryless trials for anyone engaged in acts of revolutionary nationalism (Ghani, 2020).
In a similar fashion, the UK government gradually rolled back on the public’s civil liberties in the interest of national security during the early 2000s. The Terrorism Act 2000 gave the police the power to stop and search without reasonable suspicion. A few years later, the Terrorism Act 2006 gave the police the power to arrest and detain without charge for up to 28 days. These powers have subsequently been abused by police, especially when shutting down political dissent. For example, in March 2003, anti-war protestors were prevented from protesting outside RAF Fairford and were sent back to London under heavy police escort (BBC, 2013). Furthermore, in June 2013, documents leaked by Edward Snowden revealed that GCHQ had been spying on the British public (Amnesty International UK, 2020). This practice of mass surveillance has since been formalised under the Investigatory Powers Act 2016, which gave 48 state authorities, including GCHQ, the power to access the general public’s internet connection records without a warrant.
Alongside this general erosion of civil liberties, the UK government has also begun implementing special measures targeting specific suspect communities, most notably British Muslims. Introduced in 2011, the Prevent programme has since faced considerable criticism for its “negative and discriminatory effects on Muslim communities” (Nezirevic, 2022). Most notably, Prevent has been found to be inherently Islamophobic, contributing to the marginalisation of the Muslim community, which only increases the risk of radicalisation (Holmwood & Aitlhadj, 2022). Despite specifically targeting Muslim communities, the Prevent programme still failed to stop Salman Abedi from committing the 2017 Manchester Arena Bombing (Perraudin, 2017). Therefore, much like the Rowlatt Act of 1919, modern UK government policy has proven ineffective in addressing terrorism, in many ways exacerbating the very conditions that lead to radicalisation.
In summary, social policy firmly places religion, particularly Islam, at the heart of modern terrorism. This, in turn, has fuelled moral panic, allowing governments to implement increasingly authoritarian laws that cut back on individual liberty. In doing so, governments have contributed to the very same socio-economic conditions that allow for the radicalisation of individuals.
Perspectives from Politics
Since the War on Terror began, terrorism has become an increasingly popular area of research in political science, particularly where its subdisciplines of international relations, security studies and strategic studies are concerned. Consequently, numerous studies have been conducted on the causes of terrorism. Overall, political science recognises three main categories of factors that cause or exacerbate modern terrorism: ideological factors, socio-economic factors, and psychological factors (Wojciechowski, 2017).
Terrorists identify with ideologies centred around ideas regarding politics, ethnicity, and religion. Broadly speaking, terrorists fall into two categories: nationalists and ideologists (Segaller, 1987). Nationalists are radicalised by perceived national injustices and supported by their communities, utilising violent means where peaceful means have proven ineffective. For example, the IRA sought to free Ireland from British colonial rule. Meanwhile, ideologists hold distinctly minority views and are often ostracised from their communities. For example, ISIS follows a very extreme interpretation of Islam that is rejected by the vast majority of Muslims.
For terrorism to thrive, it requires socio-economic conditions that generate and intensify radical attitudes. While experts disagree on the importance of specific socio-economic conditions, globalisation stands out as a critical factor underpinning modern terrorism. Globalisation threatens local communities’ societal norms and economic position, leading to intercultural conflict, particularly in the global ‘south’ (Stevens, 2002). In addition, globalisation has brought into stark focus the development disparity between the rich global ‘north’ and the poor global ‘south’. As it stands, less-developed states experience the greatest threat from terrorist activity (Institute for Economics & Peace, 2022). Furthermore, terrorist organisations rely on financial backing from various international sources, from individual donors to foreign regimes. For example, the Afghan Taliban relies on donations from sympathisers abroad and the opium trade to fund its activities (Clarke, 2015). I will elaborate on the financial aspect of terrorism in the economics section of this essay.
People at risk of being radicalised by terrorist groups exhibit certain psychological processes such as hatred, prejudice, injustice, and trauma, among others. This is evidenced by the fact that many terrorists follow some variation of the ‘us versus them’ mentality. For example, Brenton Tarrant was influenced by anti-Muslim sentiment and white supremacy, leading him to commit the 2019 Christchurch Mosque Shootings (Ehsan & Stott, 2020). Another commonality amongst terrorist groups is the idea that everything, including one’s life, comes second to ‘the cause’. As a result, terrorists willingly assume responsibility for and engage in violently destructive activities (Horgan, 2003).
Given its vast range of causal factors, political scientists have advocated for different solutions to address terrorism, depending on their ontological and epistemological positions. The most popular position is that of the realists who call for direct military intervention in countries facing terrorist threats. For instance, following the September 11th Attacks, the USA launched its War on Terror, increasing its global military presence, particularly in the Middle East. As of 2021, the USA controls around 750 overseas military bases (Vine, 2021). Despite eliminating high-value targets like Osama Bin Laden, the USA’s War on Terror is often considered a strategic failure. During the Arab Spring, the USA failed to protect its strategic allies, such as Ali Abdullah Saleh, who was deposed in 2012 (Riedel, 2017). After the USA’s withdrawal in late 2021, the Taliban effectively took over Afghanistan, demonstrating how twenty years of military intervention proved ineffective at addressing terrorism (Center for Preventive Action, 2022). Not to mention the 387,072 civilian deaths caused by the USA’s post-9/11 wars in Iraq, Afghanistan, Yemen, Syria, and Pakistan (Watson Institute, 2021). As a result of this fervent interventionism, many countries belonging to the global ‘south’ view the USA and its allies with suspicion (Simon & Stevenson, 2015).
In response to the War on Terror’s strategic failure, post-modernists have begun to question how society perceives terrorism. As academics have increasingly highlighted, western media outlets consistently associate terrorism with Islam and Muslims (Scrivens, 2018). Atrocities committed by Islamist extremists receive six times more coverage and are nine times more likely to be associated with the term ‘terrorism’ than those committed by far-right extremists despite using similar methods of violence (Hanif, 2020). This failure to frame far-right extremism as terrorism is reflected in the lack of adequate policy measures to address it. Furthermore, associating Islam with terrorism has prompted anti-Muslim sentiment worldwide, fuelling justification for state-sponsored aggression towards Muslim minorities (Werleman, 2021). This only further marginalises Muslim populations, creating the socio-economic conditions that precipitate terrorist activity. Therefore, post-modernists assert that the way the international community currently frames terrorism is detrimental to the process of solving it.
To summarise, political science asserts that terrorism results from various ideological, socio-economic, and psychological factors. Following the failure of the USA’s War on Terror, the mainstream realist advocacy for direct military intervention has been increasingly questioned, prompting post-modernists to call for a revaluation of terrorism discourse.
Perspectives from Economics
In economics, terrorism is primarily studied from a utility perspective, analysing the rational choices of terrorist organisations. Hence, economists make no distinction between terrorists and other criminals. Therefore, to understand the root cause of terrorism, one must familiarise themselves with the economic theory of crime.
Initially conceived by Jeremy Bentham in 1789, the economic theory of crime was later formalised by Gary Becker in 1968. According to Bentham, “the profit of the crime urges a man to delinquency: the pain of punishment is the force employed to restrain him from it”. Furthermore, “if the first of these forces be the greater, the crime will be committed; if the second, the crime will not be committed” (Bentham, 1789, p. 399). Similarly, in Becker’s model, criminal acts are preferred when the expected benefits of a crime exceed its expected costs, including the costs of any foregone legal alternatives (Becker, 1968). Thus, criminals are presented as rational utility maximisers. In the case of terrorism, this is no different: terrorists aim to maximise their utility. For instance, the Taliban still exported opium to the USA despite fighting a war against them, as it was the course of action that maximised their utility (Clarke, 2015).
One of the main conclusions drawn from the economic theory of crime is the idea that poverty breeds crime. According to the theory, criminals wish to engage in criminal activities that provide a benefit exceeding the benefit they would receive engaging in legal activities (Becker, 1968). Therefore, the lower an individual’s legal income, the more likely they are to engage in crime or terrorism. This is clearly reflected in the fact that less-developed, low-income countries experience greater levels of terrorist activity (Institute for Economics & Peace, 2022). Furthermore, during the onset of the 2007-2008 Financial crisis, the number of terrorist attacks worldwide reached an all-time high of 14,414 (Statista Research Department, 2023). Given this, economists generally believe that the solution to terrorism – as with all things – lies in economic growth. However, economists disagree on how to bring about said economic growth and are broadly divided into two schools of economic philosophy: Keynesian economics and laissez-faire economics.
Named after its founder John Keynes, the Keynesian school of economics asserts that a healthy economy is the result of private sector and government help. Therefore, it falls to governments to implement the appropriate monetary and fiscal policies to maintain high aggregate demand, avoiding unemployment and economic recessions (The Investopedia Team, 2022). According to Keynes, an economy’s output is the sum of consumption, investment, government expenditure, and net exports. Therefore, any increase in one of these components leads to an increase in output, leading to an increase in aggregate demand. In addition, Keynesian economic models also include a multiplier effect, so any change in output is a multiple of the increase or decrease in spending that caused the change (Jahan, et al., 2014). Keynesian economists typically advocate for higher social spending, lower taxes, and lower interest rates during economic recessions and the opposite during economic booms (The Investopedia Team, 2022).
On the other hand, the laissez-faire school of economics rejects government intervention, preferring to let the free market naturally regulate itself. Laissez-faire economists believe economic competition constitutes a natural order, the best type of economic regulation (The Investopedia Team, 2022). Take, for example, the theory of comparative advantage, which refers to a country’s ability to produce goods and services at a lower opportunity cost than its trade partners. In a global free market economy, every country would be forced to specialise in whichever industry they have a comparative advantage and trade in whichever industry they lack a comparative advantage. In theory, doing so would increase global productivity and economic growth (The Economist, 1998). As a result, laissez-faire economists are typically against minimum wages, trade restrictions, and corporate taxes, viewing them as penalties on production. Therefore, governments should only intervene to preserve property, life, and individual freedom, allowing ‘the invisible hand’ to proceed unhindered (The Investopedia Team, 2022).
In summary, economics solely recognises poverty as the driving force behind terrorism and other crimes. Therefore, the solution to terrorism lies in increased economic growth that alleviates poverty, thereby removing the incentive to engage in criminal activity. Laissez-faire economic policies have classically led to meagre wages, unsafe working conditions, significant wealth gaps and other socio-economic conditions that breed crime and terrorism. Meanwhile, Keynesian economists seek to solve terrorism by addressing market inequalities and reducing the economic marginalisation that pushes individuals to commit acts of terror.
Conclusion
In conclusion, interdisciplinarity is the most appropriate method for addressing any multifaceted global issue, such as terrorism, given its inherent appreciation for different disciplinary viewpoints. As far as social policy, politics, and economics are concerned, each discipline recognises different causes and solutions to the problem of terrorism. Therefore, it falls to interdisciplinarity to synthesise these various viewpoints to devise a viable solution to terrorism.
To devise a solution, we must first understand the causes of terrorism. Of the three disciplines examined in this essay, politics has the broadest range of factors contributing to the issue of terrorism: ideological factors, socio-economic factors, and psychological factors. Meanwhile, social policy and economics place more emphasis on religious extremism (an ideological factor) and poverty (a socio-economic factor), respectively. Regardless, all three disciplines recognise social and economic marginalisation as a critical factor behind radicalisation. Therefore, any attempt to solve terrorism must address the factors contributing to marginalisation.
As discussed in social policy, UK government policy has contributed to the social marginalisation of the Muslim community. Similarly, on a wider scale, the western media often demonises Muslims as the sole perpetrators of terrorist activity. Therefore, as highlighted in politics, there is a desperate need to change the way terrorism and Islam are framed as social discourses. To do this, I would recommend that media outlets begin reporting more fairly on terrorist activities committed by non-Muslim groups such as the far-right. Furthermore, media outlets should also portray Muslims in a more positive light to counteract the decades of negative stereotypes which have fuelled anti-Muslim sentiment. In addition, economics has highlighted a need for reduced wealth inequality and increased economic growth to deter terrorism. To achieve this, I suggest governments invest more money into communities at risk of radicalisation.
Overall, using an interdisciplinary approach has proven to be both a challenging and informative experience. While it has equipped me with a broad range of knowledge, I do not feel I am particularly well-versed in any one of the disciplines studied in this essay. Furthermore, the time constraints of this particular project meant that I could not devise a fully-fledged solution to the problem of terrorism. I am sure I could devise a much better solution if I had more time and resources. Thus, my experience with interdisciplinarity reflects the primary issue associated with the approach: ‘breadth-over-depth’.
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The Islamicate Gunpowder Empires were the most powerful and stable polities of the early modern period.
The following essay was originally submitted as an assignment for my university and was graded as a 2:1.
Empires have played a significant role in shaping the modern world and continue to influence global politics today. In recent years, a growing number of political scientists have turned to the study of empire to gain insights into how dominant political powers have shaped international relations and global economic systems. In doing so, they aim to uncover the root causes of contemporary political issues and develop the necessary strategies for addressing them.
In this essay, I aim to engage with the study of empire through a relatively new theoretical lens: Karen Barkey’s three conditions of imperial rule. To do this, I will begin by introducing the subject of my comparison: the Islamicate Gunpowder Empires. This will be followed by an explanation of Barkey’s conditions: legitimate sovereignty claims, rule over diversity, and control over elites. Then, I will go through each of Barkey’s conditions, comparing how they present in each empire before concluding with my view on which empire was most successful.
The Islamicate Gunpowder Empires: The Ottomans, Safavids and Mughals
In the early modern period, three empires represented the pinnacle of Islamicate civilisation: the Ottomans, Safavids and Mughals. Originally coined by Marshall Hodgson, the Islamicate Gunpowder Empires were amongst the world’s most powerful and stable polities, known for their proficiency in using gunpowder weaponry (Hodgson, 1977). Furthermore, all three empires were born of the same Turkic-Persian tradition, inheriting the systems of ‘Turko-Irano-Islamic statecraft’ that came with it (Streusand, 2011, pp. 11-28).
The Blue Mosque in Istanbul, Turkey, was constructed between 1609 and 1616 during the reign of Ahmed I.
The first of these great empires were the Ottomans, founded in 1299 by Osman I and lasting over six hundred years. The empire reached its zenith under the rule of Suleiman the Magnificent, ruling over large swathes of the Middle East and North Africa with a sizable foothold in Eastern Europe. The Ottomans maintained a robust and flexible economy, society, and military until the late 18th century, after which it began to be surpassed by its European neighbours (Faroqhi, 1994, p. 553). Its unravelling occurred during World War One, and the Ottoman Empire soon evolved into the Republic of Turkey in 1923.
The Shah Mosque in Isfahan, Iran, was constructed between 1611 and 1629 during the reign of Abbas I.
The next great empire, the Safavids, entered the scene two hundred years later, in 1501, under the leadership of Ismail I. Often considered the beginning of modern Iranian history, the Safavids are most famous for establishing Twelver Shia Islam in Iran, spreading its doctrines to other parts of the Islamicate world in the process (Arjomand, 1979). At its height, the empire’s borders stretched latitudinally from the Euphrates to Balochistan and longitudinally from the eastern Caucasus to the Persian Gulf. The Safavid Empire was formally dissolved in 1760 at the hands of the Zand dynasty.
The Badshahi Mosque in Lahore, Pakistan, was constructed between 1671 and 1673 during the reign of Aurangzeb.
The last and most affluent of the Islamicate gunpowder empires were the Mughals. Founded in 1526 by Babur, the Mughal Empire grew to control most of the Indian Subcontinent. Despite being a Muslim dynasty ruling over a majority Hindu population, the Mughals were able to usher in a golden age for the Indian subcontinent. By 1700, Mughal India accounted for 24.4% of the world’s GDP (Maddison, 2003, p. 261). The British formally abolished the Mughal Empire following the Indian Rebellion of 1857.
The Three Conditions of Imperial Rule
Before Barkey’s Empire of Difference, most empire studies followed the familiar rise-decline narrative popularised by Edward Gibbon’s The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. In short, all empires experience the same periods of rise, apogee, stagnation, and decline (Glubb, 1976, p. 24). Barkey sought to challenge this entrenched historiographical tradition by devising a new analytical framework to engage with the study of empire. She argues that three conditions are needed to maintain the imperial form:
1. Legitimate Sovereignty Claims
Empires must maintain authority over their populations by ensuring the participation of elites. This is achieved by devising a supranational ideology to provide cohesion amongst the upper classes. These ideologies often frame empires as upholders of religion and civilisation or as descendants of notable lineages with a divine right to rule. Regardless, the supranational ideology legitimises imperial sovereignty, encouraging elites to carry out imperial policy (Barkey, 2008, p. 13). For example, the mission civilisatrice doctrine of the French Empire acted as cultural justification for the colonial exploitation of Africa and Asia (Burrows, 1986).
2. Rule Over Diversity
Empires must maintain rule over multi-religious and multi-ethnic populations via policies designed to manage diversity. The purpose of said policies is to institute boundaries of varying permeability between different communities, arranging them according to different classificatory systems. It falls to state makers to meet with various groups to negotiate the terms of separation, difference, similarity, and cooperation (Barkey, 2008, p. 13). For example, the British Raj utilised ‘divide and conquer’ strategies to divide their Indian subjects along religious lines (Tharoor, 2017, pp. 101-148).
3. Control Over Elites
Empires must maintain control over elites politically and economically tied to the centre. Politically, elites are vertically integrated into the empire, dependent on the centre yet kept separate and distinct from one another on the horizontal level. Economically, the structure of elite arrangement determines how an empire provides for its fiscal and military needs (Barkey, 2008, p. 13). For example, the encomienda system of the Spanish Empire provided elites with the right to extract tribute from the conquered populations of South America in return for their loyalty to the Spanish Crown (Batchelder & Sanchez, 2013).
Condition 1: Legitimate Sovereignty Claims
According to Barkey, an empire must devise a convincing supranational ideology to legitimise its sovereignty. The methods through which the Islamicate Gunpowder Empires justified their sovereignty underwent significant changes in response to different audiences.
In the early days of the Ottoman Empire, Osman I had no specific claim to sovereignty; his legitimacy came from his military success in raiding the lands of non-Muslims, earning him respect from followers and opponents alike. However, as former Rum Seljuk officials entered Ottoman service, the Ottomans began demonstrating their legitimacy in Irano-Islamic terms through victory against other rulers, just governance per Persian traditions and the enforcement of Islamic law (Streusand, 2011, pp. 64-65). As the Ottomans expanded their domain, they began articulating their sovereignty in different ways to appeal to the new populations they encountered.
Upon encountering other Turkic polities like the Timurids, the Ottomans began legitimising their sovereignty in Turko-Mongol terms by relying on a genealogy that tied Osman I to the legendary Turkic leader Oghuz Khan (Barkey, 2008, p. 99). According to Turkic tradition, God had designated Oghuz Khan and his descendants as the legitimate rulers of the world (Kamola, 2015). After conquering Constantinople in 1453, Ottoman rulers claimed to be legitimate successors to the Roman Empire to appeal to their former Byzantine subjects. Less than a century later, the Ottomans conquered the Mamluks gaining control over the holy cities of Mecca and Medina, solidifying their claim as defenders of Islam (Streusand, 2011, pp. 67-68).
During the post-Suleimanic years, the Ottomans began to espouse a more sedentary Irano-Islamic ideology. Rather than basing their legitimacy on martial glory, the Ottoman emperors made the patronage of Sunni Islam the basis of their sovereignty (Peirce, 1993, p. 185). This eventually culminated in the Ottoman claim to the title of caliph, making them the pre-eminent rulers in the Islamicate world (Imber, 1997, pp. 98-112).
Like the Ottomans, the Safavid Empire’s claims to sovereignty also underwent an ideological evolution, albeit a far less complex one. The ideology of Safaviyya, the Sufi order to which Ismail I belonged and led, fell under the category of ghulat: a world view of opposition against mainstream Islamic doctrine and the institutions that supported it. Safaviyya ghulat, in particular, drew upon Turkic shaman-Sufi practices and the lasting tradition of nomadic dissent against settled rule to appeal to its Turkmen followers, who made up the bulk of the Safavid Qizilbash tribes (Babayan, 2003, p. xxiii). Thus, Ismail I presented himself as a revolutionary messianic figure who sought to address two grievances: the nomadic Turkmen against the bureaucratic Aq Qoyunlu Confederation and the Shia against the Sunni ruling elite (Streusand, 2011, p. 160). To further support their claim as harbingers of a new purified Islamic polity, the Safavids claimed descendency from Prophet Muhammad ﷺ through his daughter Fatima and son-in-law Ali (Blake, 2013, p. 23).
Upon conquering Tabriz in 1501, Ismail I chose orthodox Twelver Shia Islam as the state religion over the Safaviyya’s religious teachings. The reasons for this are unclear though I would suspect it had to do with the fact that Safaviyya ghulat did not have the doctrinal capacity to bring law and order to the Safavid’s settled non-Turkic subjects. Thus, the early Safavid Empire espoused a dual religious ideology: Safaviyya ghulat for the nomadic Turkmen and Twelver Shia Islam for the settled population (Streusand, 2011, p. 161). As later Safavid rulers became increasingly accustomed to a settled lifestyle, they began to distance themselves from Safaviyya teachings, becoming patrons of Shia Islam in a similar vein to their Ottoman cousins in the west (Arjomand, 1979).
Like the early Ottoman and Safavid rulers, the Mughals also claimed descendency from a noble lineage as the basis of their sovereignty. In his autobiography, Babur-Nama, Babur claimed to be a descendant of both Timur and Ghengis Khan (Hiro, 2006, pp. 8-9). The early Mughal rulers viewed themselves as a continuation of the Timurid legacy – hence their claim to the former Timurid territory of Hindustan – and continued the standard Irano-Islamic practices of previous Indo-Muslim rulers (Streusand, 2011, pp. 244-245). It was not until the construction of Fatehpur Sikri in 1571 under Akbar that anything resembling a distinctly Mughal ideology started being articulated.
Akbar’s political ideology, known as Sulh-i-kul, had a uniquely syncretic nature unlike anything seen hitherto in the Islamicate world and sought to legitimise Mughal sovereignty in both Muslim and Hindu terms (Habib, 1998). In 1579, he promulgated the Mazhar, an imperial order designating the Mughal emperor as a mujtahid and Amir al-Mu’minin. Doing so allowed the Mughals to occupy the same position as the early Muslim caliphs, who acted as both sovereign and chief religious authority. Analogously, Akbar introduced Hindu practices such as Jharokha Darshan and Rajyabhiseka into the Mughal court to state their sovereignty in Hindu terms. Despite the effectiveness of Sulh-i-kul in appeasing the majority Hindu population, succeeding Mughal emperors gradually returned to the tried and tested ideological customs of previous Indo-Muslim polities, with a complete reversal under Aurangzeb, a patron of Sunni Islam (Streusand, 2011, pp. 246-253).
In summary, all three empires underwent similar ideological evolutions. The basis of each empire’s sovereignty lay in its noble lineage and the personal exploits of its founder. As the empires grew, their legitimising ideologies responded to their changing audiences until, at the height of their power, each empire’s sovereignty was firmly based on religious patronage.
Condition 2: Rule Over Diversity
Barkey’s second condition of imperial rule states that empires must implement appropriate policies to manage their diverse populations. In the case of the Islamicate gunpowder empires, these policies ranged from tolerance to forced conversion.
Overall, the Ottomans practised a policy of religious pluralism best exemplified by the millet system. Under this system, religious groups were divided into autonomous units, called millets, with the right to enact religious law and collect taxes so long as they recognised Ottoman sovereignty. Alongside the central Muslim millet, 16 other millets were recognised by the Ottoman Empire, including the Greek Orthodox, Armenian, and Jewish millets, each with their own leading authority and institutions (Rassam & Bates, 2001, p. 103). Thus, the Ottoman Empire was an empire of nations under the protection and management of the central state.
Like the Ottomans, the Mughals also practised a general policy of tolerance for religious diversity. While Mughal attitudes towards non-Muslims varied over time – best exemplified by the abolishment of the jizya in 1564 and its reinstatement in 1679 – non-Muslims continuously played an active role in Mughal politics, making up a sizable segment of the ruling class. The Mughal mansabdari system made no distinction between Hindus and Muslims. As a matter of fact, when independent Hindu rulers, such as the Rajput chiefs, were defeated by the Mughals, they were incorporated into this same system and treated as equals on par with their fellow Muslim mansabdars (Zaidi, 1994).
It is worth noting here the difference in the tolerant approaches of the Ottomans and Mughals. Where the Ottomans demarked boundaries between different religious groups, the Mughals made no such distinctions. I would argue that this is the result of the differing nature of the communities each empire found itself managing. The Greek Orthodox Church religiously led the Greek Orthodox community. Therefore, if the Ottomans wanted to maintain control over their new Greek Orthodox subjects, they had to absorb the Greek Orthodox Church into its governance structure rather than abolish it. Hence, the creation of the Greek Orthodox millet. Meanwhile, the various Hindu communities of South Asia had no such central authority for the Mughals to absorb or abolish. Hence, the Mughal administration’s ‘colour-blind’ approach to religion.
In stark contrast to their neighbours, the Safavids practised a policy of forced conversion so effective that it led to a fundamental change in the demographics of Persia. Before Safavid rule, Sunni Islam dominated Persia, so much so that the Ottomans used to send their ulama there to study (Inalcik, 1973, p. 167). Following the Safavid imposition of Twelver Shia Islam as the state religion, most of Persia’s Sunni ulama converted, while the remainder either fled or were executed. To further their efforts, the Safavid establishment began importing foreign Shia scholars to convert the masses. Ritual cursing, extortion, intimidation, and harassment were also employed by the Safavid authorities to enforce their particular brand of Shia Islam (Babayan, 2003, p. 299). The programme proved successful, and by the end of Safavid rule, the majority of the general population identified as Twelver Shia.
In summary, all three empires took differing approaches to manage diversity. The Ottomans sought to divide their population into discrete groupings so they could be easily managed. The Mughals preferred assimilating new religious communities into the existing structure, keeping everyone equal under the sovereign. Meanwhile, the Safavids ambitiously opted to impose conformity and were successful.
Condition 3: Control Over Elites
As the final condition of imperial rule, Barkey asserts that an empire must devise a suitable structure of elite arrangement to provide for its fiscal and military needs. In the Islamicate Gunpowder Empires, new elites were incorporated into the imperial structure through systems of land revenue assignments adapted from the Abbasid iqta: grants that bestow holders with administrative responsibility over a particular tract of land owned by the state in return for a share of its revenue.
Broadly speaking, the Ottomans incorporated elites into the imperial structure in two stages. Newly conquered elites would start as vassals, paying tribute to the imperial treasury and providing troops in Ottoman campaigns. Given time and the expansion of the empire’s borders, these elites and their land would be incorporated into the Ottoman timar system (Inalcik, 1954). Under this system, new and existing elites would receive land revenue assignments, called timar, in return for their continued military service (Streusand, 2011, pp. 80-81).
During early Safavid rule, the centre had virtually no administrative control over the Qizilbash tribes, who governed the provinces and constantly waged war against one another to assert their dominance over the sovereign (Dale, 2009, pp. 88-89). This situation remained unchanged until the reforms of Abbas I, which significantly decreased Qizilbash influence by breaking them down into smaller groupings and transferring their land to non-Qizilbash tribes. Furthermore, his successors gradually increased the number of khass provinces, land controlled by the state, as opposed to mamalik provinces, land controlled by tribal chieftains (Streusand, 2011, pp. 180-182). The Safavids then distributed khass territory as land revenue assignments, called tuyul, amongst their new non-tribal regiments recruited from the Caucuses (Banani, 1978).
In India, the Mughal mansabdari system integrated the nobility, military and bureaucracy into a single hierarchy based on two numerical representations: zat, which denoted a mansabdar’s pay, and sawar, which denoted the number of cavalrymen they must maintain (Moosvi, 1981). Mansabdars were personally appointed and promoted by the Mughal emperor to carry out any civil or military responsibility. In return, they would receive payment through cash salaries or land revenue assignments called jagir (Rezavi, 1998). Newly conquered elites were often permitted to keep their land as jagir so long as they became mansabdars under the emperor (Streusand, 2011, p. 258).
Despite land revenue assignments playing a significant role in all three empires’ elite structures, there were still some fundamental differences between timar, tuyul and jagir assignments. The Ottoman timariot was a single soldier who could expect to hold the same timar for their entire career and often had family roots in the land they were assigned. In contrast, Mughal jagirdars often retained large private armies and typically shifted jagir every few years (Streusand, 2011, pp. 291-292). Meanwhile, Safavid tuyul could be inherited and were introduced with the sole purpose of creating a new military class to challenge the authority of the Qizilbash tribes (Banani, 1978).
In summary, all three empires employed the use of land revenue assignments to manage elites. Doing so allowed the Islamicate Gunpowder Empires to rapidly expand their territories without sacrificing central authority. A sharp contrast to the European feudal system, which conferred ownership of the land itself, allowing imperial elites to become the de facto rulers of their respective fiefs.
Conclusion
In conclusion, the Islamicate Gunpowder Empires drew from their shared ‘Turko-Irano-Islamic’ heritage, adapting it to their distinct circumstances to maintain Barkey’s three conditions of imperial rule:
1. Legitimate Sovereignty Claims
All three empires underwent similar ideological evolutions, from Turkic-Persian ideas about noble lineage and just governance to the patronage of Islamic institutions. While the Safavids and Mughals maintained their legitimacy as puppets long after the end of their effective governance, the Ottoman ideology was perhaps the most effective. Their claim to caliphate appealed to Muslims the world over; during the Khilafat Movement of the early 1920s, Indian Muslims were more concerned with protecting the status of the Ottoman caliph than with the reinstatement of the Mughal emperor (Qureshi, 1978).
2. Rule Over Diversity
All three empires took differing approaches to manage diversity, from tolerance to conversion. The Mughal ‘colour-blind’ approach allowed for the easy absorption of Hindu elites but failed to assimilate the Hindu masses. Meanwhile, the Safavid conversion initiatives successfully enforced conformity amongst the Persian population but failed to tame the Afghan tribes along the eastern frontier. In contrast, the Ottoman millet system successfully assimilated the elites and masses of religious minorities, solidifying their identity as subjects of the Ottoman Empire.
3. Control Over Elites
All three empires relied on variations of the Abbasid iqta to incorporate elites into their imperial structures. The timar, tuyul and jagir assignments played a vital role in centralising power. Unfortunately, in the case of the Safavids and Mughals, this process of centralisation eventually backfired due to the lax administration of later rulers, causing a collapse of central authority by the early 18th century and the eventual dissolution of both empires. Meanwhile, the Ottomans avoided this predicament by scrapping the timar system in the early 17th century in favour of cash salaries paid directly from the treasury.
All things considered, while the Safavids and Mughals played a significant role in shaping modern Iran and India, the Ottomans were the most successful in maintaining the conditions of empire, having ruled over vast territories and diverse populations for over six hundred years. Unlike its counterparts, the Ottoman Empire was not usurped by another imperial power but instead underwent the inevitable transition from empire to nation-state.
References
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The following essay was originally submitted as an assignment for my university and was graded as a 1st class essay.
Power is a critical area of study in political science and the broader social sciences. Much of our conceptualisation of the world around us revolves around power, particularly when it comes to disparities between different entities. This is no different when it comes to the field of International Relations (IR), in which the study of power plays a huge role. With this in mind, it is vital that we, as IR theorists, appreciate different approaches to the study of power and how these different approaches affect our understanding of the social world. As such, this essay aims to highlight the dissonances between mainstream IR and Poststructuralism in regard to power.
To do this, we will begin by outlining the main features of Poststructuralism’s understanding of power: discourse, deconstruction, genealogy, and intertextuality. We will then look at Orientalism as a case study of Poststructuralism’s understanding of power. Following this, we will contrast Poststructuralism’s understanding of power with that of mainstream IR theory. To finish, we will conclude by summarising the key points made in this essay.
Power According to Poststructuralism
Poststructuralism is a theoretical perspective that emerged during the 1960s as a response and critique of Structuralism. It is based upon a relativist ontology which asserts that reality does not exist beyond subjects (the observers), leading us to a subjectivist epistemology which asserts that subjects impose meaning on objects (the things that are observed) (Moon & Blackman, 2014). Simply put, no objective reality exists outside observation; reality is constructed by observers. Thus, knowledge is not discovered; it is created. As a result, Poststructuralism aims to deconstruct conceptions of reality to understand the social world and the power dynamics that exist therein.
Poststructuralism’s conception of power is primarily linked to knowledge creation and centres around four main concepts: discourse, deconstruction, genealogy, and intertextuality. These four concepts amalgamate to produce subjectivities (the vantage points from which an observer observes the world). Thus, power is understood as the productive capacity to constitute particular subjectivities as natural, objective conceptions of reality (Hansen, 2020).
During the late 1960s, philosopher Michel Foucault introduced the concept of discourse. As defined by Foucault, discourse refers to ‘ways of constituting knowledge, together with the social practices, forms of subjectivity and power relations which inhere in such knowledges and relations between them’ (Weedon, 1987). According to Poststructualism’s ontological basis, reality does not exist beyond observation. Instead, reality is constructed by the meaning imposed upon objects via language. Depending on the language used to describe an object, the meaning of the object changes. For example, a person firing a gun may be labelled as either a ‘soldier’ or a ‘terrorist’. A ‘terrorist’ firing a gun has different connotations than a ‘soldier’ firing a gun, even though, at the fundamental level, it is just a person firing a gun. In other words, discourse asserts that objects do not have a given essence; their essence is produced by language.
Around the same time as Foucault, another philosopher Jacque Derrida introduced the concept of deconstruction. Derrida posited that language is a system of unstable dichotomies where one term is valued as superior (Hansen, 2020). Words only make sense in relation to other words. To understand the meaning of one word, we must look at where it is positioned in relation to other words. For example, we cannot understand what ‘chimpanzee’ means without other words, such as ‘animal’. Similarly, we cannot understand what ‘chimpanzee’ means without comparing it to what it is not, such as ‘human’. However, these connections between words are unstable because they are never attributed indefinitely. For instance, while the ‘chimpanzee’ may be an ‘animal’, it is often seen as more ‘human’ than other ‘animals’. Therefore, its ‘animalness’ is unstable and may change within a given context. Thus, a ‘human-animal’ dichotomy exists, where ‘human’ is valued as superior to ‘animal’. In other words, deconstruction asserts that a system of unstable dichotomies artificially produces the essence of an object.
Alongside discourse, Foucault also developed the concept of genealogy by building upon the work of renowned philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche. Foucault and Nietzsche argued that mainstream history is far too homogenous and misrepresentative of a past comprised of gradual, contested, and often forgotten histories. Therefore, genealogy is concerned with drawing attention to the politics involved in making the past look a certain way to understand the discursive and material structures of the present (Hansen, 2020). For instance, understanding and critiquing colonial myths concerning world history can help us better understand the current power dynamics between Europe and its ex-colonies (Halperin, 2006). In other words, genealogy asserts that knowledge of the past is constructed and informs the meaning subjects impose upon objects in the present.
In 1969, philosopher Julia Kristeva introduced the concept of intertextuality. According to Kristeva, the social world can be understood as being comprised of texts that form broader intertexts (the knowledge produced by a body of texts) (Kristeva, 1980). The meaning that a subject imposes upon an object is enshrined in an intertext. Intertexts are developed over time and inform the observations that subjects make about objects. For example, to say that ‘Africa’ is ‘backwards’ is to draw upon the intertext that constitutes ‘Africa’ as ‘pre-modern’, ‘barbaric’ and ‘savage’. Whenever a new text references ‘Africa’, it builds upon the old body of texts that constitute ‘Africa’ as ‘backwards’. This intertext then informs any observations that subjects make of ‘Africa’. In other words, intertextuality asserts that the meaning a subject imposes upon an object is reinforced, preserved, and propagated by a wider intertext.
Poststructuralism’s four concepts of discourse, deconstruction, genealogy, and intertextuality overlap to produce subjectivities. The essence of an object is produced by language (discourse). Language is a system of unstable dichotomies (deconstruction). These unstable dichotomies are constructed over time by controlling our knowledge of the past (genealogy). This knowledge is reinforced, preserved, and propagated by intertexts (intertextuality). These intertexts produce subjectivities which are adopted by subjects, informing their conception of reality. Consequently, power emerges when particular subjectivities are produced and constituted as an objective conception of reality when no such objective reality exists.
In summary, power, according to Poststructuralism, can be understood as the creation and propagation of knowledge. Ontologically, Poststructuralism posits that there is no objective reality outside observation. Epistemologically, therefore, any conception of reality is the result of subjectivities. Thus, power is the capacity to produce subjectivities and constitute them as objective reality via the creation and propagation of knowledge through language: a system of unstable dichotomies propped up by homogenous accounts of history reinforced by intertexts.
Orientalism: A Case Study in Poststructuralist Power
Orientalism refers to the body of knowledge propping up the dichotomous relationship between ‘Occident’ and ‘Orient’. As this essay will demonstrate, this body of knowledge is created via the amalgamation of discourse, deconstruction, genealogy and intertextuality. It is then used to produce subjectivities regarding the ‘Orient’, which are, in turn, presented as objective reality. Thus, Orientalism can be understood as a form of power that privileges the Western conception of reality.
In his 1978 book Orientalism, philosopher Edward Said established Orientalism as “a Western style for dominating, restructuring, and having authority over the Orient” (Said, 1978). Said posited that the existence and development of every culture impels the existence of a different and inevitably competitive ‘other’. In endeavouring to build its self-image, the West created the ‘Orient’ to serve as its ‘other’. Consequently, Orientalists have constructed subjectivities surrounding the ‘Occident’ and ‘Orient’ to explain why Eastern societies are dominated by Western societies, establishing this hierarchy as a natural truth. In doing so, the ‘Occident’ is justified in speaking for and controlling the resources of the ‘Orient’ (Said, 1978).
As discussed in the previous section of this essay, subjectivities are the product of knowledge created via discourse, deconstruction, genealogy and intertextuality. In the case of Orientalism, this is no different.
The object being observed are the people, cultures, and countries that encompass the geographical regions commonly defined as Africa, the Middle East, and Asia. The essence of the object is captured in the term ‘Orient’ (discourse). The ‘Orient’ is constituted as ‘irrational’, ‘regressive’, and ‘unjust’ in contrast to the ‘rational’, ‘progressive’, and ‘just’ ‘Occident’, those people, cultures, and countries that encompass the geographical regions commonly defined as Europe, North America, and Australasia. Thus, an unstable ‘Occident-Orient’ dichotomy exists, where ‘Orient’ is positioned as inferior to ‘Occident’ (deconstruction).
The ‘Occident’ and ‘Orient’ are presented as continuously antagonistic objectivities stretching back to antiquity in the form of ancient Greece, the birthplace of Western civilisation, and ancient Persia, the birthplace of Eastern civilisation (Said, 1978). The ‘Occident-Orient’ dichotomy is constructed by homogenous Western accounts of world history (genealogy). This grand narrative has been built up and propagated over time by a wide body of Western scholarly and creative works (intertextuality). Notable Orientalist works include Jean-Leon Gerome’s The Snake Charmer, Rudyard Kipling’s The White Man’s Burden, and Disney’s Aladdin. Thus, knowledge of the ‘Orient’ and the ‘Occident’ is the artificial creation of the West.
As a body of knowledge, Orientalism has been propagated by Western societies as an objective conception of reality and imposed upon non-Western societies. In turn, Orientalist knowledge helps justify superior ‘Occidental’ intervention and domination over the inferior ‘Oriental’, framing it as being in the best interests of the ‘Oriental’ and the moral duty of the ‘Occidental’ as it coincides with the natural reality constructed by Orientalism (Said, 1978). It has been so effective in its purpose that writers who belong to the communities that constitute the ‘Orient’ have begun internalising Orientalist ideas in their works (Lau, 2009). Thus, Orientalism acts as a pervasive form of power that impacts all areas of the social world, from government policy to pop culture.
In summary, Orientalism refers to a specific type of knowledge creation and propagation process that is servile to Western power. To produce subjectivities, it draws upon the four central concepts of Poststructuralism: discourse, deconstruction, genealogy, and intertextuality. Orientalism serves as the perfect medium through which IR theorists can study and apply Poststructuralist power. In doing so, IR theorists will be able to broaden their understanding of the social world and the power dynamics that exist therein.
Dissonances in Approaches to Power
The foundation of difference between Poststructuralism and mainstream IR theory lies in their ontological and epistemological positions. Where Poststructuralism follows a relativist ontology and subjectivist epistemology, mainstream IR theory largely follows a realist ontology and objectivist epistemology. A realist ontology asserts that reality does exist beyond subjects. Building on this, an objectivist epistemology asserts that meaning exists within objects (Moon & Blackman, 2014). Simply put, a single objective reality does exist; reality is not constructed by observers. Thus, knowledge is not created; it is discovered. These starkly contrasting ontological and epistemological positions explain why there is a difference in methodology between the two approaches. Poststructuralism seeks to deconstruct conceptions of reality. Meanwhile, mainstream IR theory seeks to understand and explain the single apparent conception of reality.
In regards to power, mainstream IR theory follows a more straightforward approach centred around political scientist Robert Dahl’s definition: “A has power over B to the extent that he can get B to do something that B would not otherwise do” (Dahl, 1957). In an IR context, power is something that is possessed by a country, allowing it to force another country to do something it would not otherwise do. It is usually measured using a comparative indicator, such as Gross National Product (GNP) or military capabilities (Sterling-Folker & Shinko, 2007). If country A has a higher GNP or military capabilities than country B, it can force country B to do something it would not otherwise do. Thus, country A has power over country B. For mainstream IR theory, power is apparent and measurable on a case-by-case basis. However, for Poststructuralism, power must be uncovered and cannot be easily measured.
Mainstream IR theory locates power in objects. However, these objects must affect other objects (Sterling-Folker & Shinko, 2007). For instance, a tank does not have power if it is not used to destroy buildings, kill people, or deter attackers. Therefore, mainstream IR theory recognises the importance of action. The object must act in order for it to have power. Country A must use its tanks to force country B to do something it would not otherwise do. In response, country B may decide to fight back against country A with its own tanks to resist doing what country A wants it to do. As a result, a disruption of the balance of power occurs, and then more power is used to re-establish balance. At the end of the day, the country with the greater quantity or quality of tanks (the greater power) is the one that will win out in the end. As political scientist Stefano Guzzini summarises: “power implies potential change, which in turn implies a counterfactual situation of potential continuity” (Guzzini, 1993).
Meanwhile, Poststructuralism locates power in subjects. However, these subjects require structures – albeit fluid structures that are susceptible to change – to impose their subjectivities on other subjects. Orientalists rely on the knowledge base of Orientalism to spread their subjectivities regarding the ‘Orient’. Due to power’s abstract nature, subjects can resist powerful subjectivities like Orientalism by producing their own or by even reconfiguring the structures that impose such subjectivities (Sterling-Folker & Shinko, 2007). For instance, Occidentalism, a counter-discourse to Orientalism, has produced subjectivities that constitute the ‘Occident’ as inferior to the ‘Orient’ (Margalit & Buruma, 2004).
Mainstream IR theory and Poststructuralism recognise resistance to power imposed by structures as a critical point of analysis; the difference lies in their approach. Mainstream IR theory is focused on two or more competing structures (country A and B) using their power (tanks) to resist one another. Poststructuralism is focused on how resistance to a structure (Orientalism) is a form of power itself and how it has the potential to reconfigure existing structures (Occidentalism). In other words, mainstream IR theory focuses on the competition of structures that want to stay in being. Poststructuralism focuses on resistance to structural ways of being (Sterling-Folker & Shinko, 2007).
Mainstream IR theorists separate the analysis of power from its practice. On the other hand, Poststructuralists argue that analysing power is practising power because taking structures as analytical givens only rectifies them. Therefore, there exists an ethical dimension to all Poststructuralist analyses of power, and heeding the voices that contest given structures is central to Poststructuralist analysis. However, mainstream IR theory can ignore these voices entirely because it is sceptical of the displacement of existing structures and accepts structural reconstitution as an objective reality. This makes the prospect of reconciliation between the two approaches challenging as mainstream IR theory views the study of power as a morally neutral endeavour, whereas Poststructuralism views it as morally corrupt (Sterling-Folker & Shinko, 2007).
In summary, the dissonances between mainstream IR theory and Poststructuralism lie in their ontological and epistemological foundations. Mainstream IR theory is based on a realist ontology and objectivist epistemology. Poststructuralism is based on a relativist ontology and subjectivist epistemology. While common points of analysis may exist, both approaches lead theorists in different methodological directions. Mainstream IR theory focuses on competing structures that want to stay in being. Poststructuralism focuses on structural ways of being. As a result of these stark differences in ontology, epistemology, and methodology, an ethical dilemma prevents reconciliation between the two approaches.
Conclusion
To recap, we began this essay by outlining the main features of Poststructuralism’s understanding of power. According to Poststructuralism, power is the capacity to produce subjectivities and constitute them as objective reality via the creation and propagation of knowledge through language: a system of unstable dichotomies propped up by homogenous accounts of history reinforced by intertexts. This was followed by an overview of one type of Poststructuralist form of power: Orientalism. As a body of knowledge, Orientalism constructs a natural, objective reality to justify superior ‘Occidental’ intervention and domination over the inferior ‘Oriental’, framing it as being in the best interests of the ‘Oriental’ and the moral duty of the ‘Occidental’.
After this, we contrasted Poststructuralism’s understanding of power with that of mainstream IR theory. The root of dissonance between the two approaches lies in their ontological and epistemological foundations, which inform two starkly contrasting methodologies. For mainstream IR theory, power works on the surface. For Poststructuralism, power works beneath the surface. While simultaneously following both approaches is near impossible due to ethical complications, mainstream IR theorists should at the very least familiarise themselves with the approaches of Poststructuralists and vice versa. Doing so will provide both camps with a broader understanding of the social world, which only serves to enrich the field of IR and the broader social sciences.
References
Dahl, R., 1957. The Concept of Power. Systems Research and Behavioral Science, 2(3), pp. 201-215.
Guzzini, S., 1993. Structural Power: the Limits of Neorealist Power Analysis. International Organization, 47(3), pp. 443-478.
Halperin, S., 2006. International Relations Theory and the Hegemony of Western Conceptions of Modernity. In: B. G. Jones, ed. Decolonizing International Relations. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers.
Hansen, L., 2020. Postructualism. In: J. Baylis, S. Smith & P. Owens, eds. The Globalization of World Politics: An Introduction to International Relations. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Kristeva, J., 1980. Desire in Language: A Semiotic Approach to Literature and Art. New York: Columbia University Press.
Lau, L., 2009. Re-Orientalism: The Perpetration and Development of Orientalism by Orientals. Modern Asian Studies, 43(2), pp. 571-590.
Margalit, A. & Buruma, I., 2004. Occidentalism: The West in the Eyes of Its Enemies. New York: Penguin Press.
Moon, K. & Blackman, D., 2014. A Guide to Understanding Social Science Research for Natural Scientists. Conservation Biology, 28(5), pp. 1167-1177.
Said, E. W., 1978. Orientalism. New York: Pantheon Books.
Sterling-Folker, J. & Shinko, R. E., 2007. Discourses of power: Traversing the realist-postmodern divide. In: F. Berenskoetter & M. J. Williams, eds. Power in World Politics. Oxfordshire: Routledge.
Weedon, C., 1987. Feminist Practice and Poststructuralist Theory. Oxford: Basil Blackwell.
The following essay was originally submitted as an assignment for my university and was graded as a 2:1.
One of the critical areas of study in political science is power, its forms, sources, distribution, modes of exercise, and effects. Therefore, it is not unreasonable to assert that political science itself is very much the study of power given its preoccupation with constitutions and institutions, which are themselves simply ways of regularising and defining its distribution and exercise (Partridge, 1963). With this in mind, it is vital that we, as political scientists, can define what we mean by power and determine who or what it is that has it. As such, this essay aims to arrive at a qualified definition for power and explain its mechanics. Following this, the essay makes the case that the distribution of power follows an elitist-leaning framework and that, while almost any entity can exercise power, the majority of absolute power is held by the ruling class.
Definition of Power
In 1957, political scientist and originator of pluralist theory Robert Dahl defined power as follows: “A has power over B to the extent that he can get B to do something that B would not otherwise do” (Dahl, 1957). For example, a teacher has power over a student to the extent that they can get the student to complete their classwork. Both the teacher and student are agents who decide what actions to take, and both command a relative degree of agency – the freedom and autonomy to decide what actions to take. It just so happens that within the classroom – the structure within which these agents operate – the teacher commands more agency than the student and can utilise their greater agency to make the student complete their classwork. Therefore, power can be viewed as the disparity in agency between two or more agents, allowing one agent to influence or compel the actions of others.
The major flaw in Dahl’s definition is the use of the pronoun ‘he’, which is problematic for two reasons. Firstly, Dahl’s definition implies that the entity exercising power must always be masculine. By associating power with masculinity, political scientists who strictly follow Dahl’s definition will be blind to situations where women exercise power. Secondly, by using a pronoun typically associated with humans, Dahl’s definition implies that the entity exercising power must also always be human. As a result, political scientists will also be blind to situations in which non-human entities exert power. For instance, the power culture and religion have in shaping our preferences. Therefore, the pronoun ‘he’ limits our understanding of power, constricting political science as a field of study. Given this, Dahl’s definition of power should be amended: “A has power over B to the extent that A can get B to do something that B would not otherwise do”. By replacing ‘he’ with ‘A’, the application for Dahl’s definition is now widened in its scope.
Mechanics of Power
Between 1959 and 1965, social psychologists John French and Bertram Raven developed a set of six bases to analyse how power operates in specific relationships (French & Raven, 1959; Raven, 2008). According to French and Raven, power depends on the specific understandings that A and B apply to their relationship. A must draw on a base or combination of bases of power appropriate to their relationship to motivate B to change in the way A intends. Failure to use the correct bases of power may result in a reduction of A’s power. These six bases include:
Legitimate power – power due to one’s authority given by their relative position in a power structure. Military generals use legitimate power to command their soldiers.
Referent power – power due to one’s charismatic ability to attract followers. Celebrities use referent power to influence consumers into buying their sponsors’ products.
Expert power – power due to one’s skills or expertise. Doctors use expert power to convince patients to take their medication.
Reward power – power due to one’s ability to provide incentives. Employers use reward power to incentivise employees to work harder.
Coercive power – power due to one’s ability to negatively impact another. Dictators use coercive power to oppress and threaten their citizens into doing what they say.
Informational power – power due to one’s access to information. Social media platforms use informational power to influence the type of content their users interact with.
In 1974, political and social theorist Steven Lukes proposed that power has three distinct dimensions: the three faces of power (Lukes, 1974). The first face of power refers to its direct decision-making capabilities to identify an issue and respond to it. When the government implements new COVID-19 restrictions, it is clear who makes decisions and why they are making them. The second face of power refers to its indirect agenda-setting capabilities to control the context in which decisions are made. When lobbying groups influence government policy behind closed doors, it is unclear who makes decisions and for whose benefit. The third face of power refers to its subtle manipulation capabilities to shape preferences and control responses to new decisions. When the government uses propaganda and rhetoric to deliberately shape people’s values before a new law is passed, it is not always clear to people that they are being influenced.
In 1992, political scientist Peter Digeser expanded upon Lukes’ three faces of power by introducing a fourth face of power (Digeser, 1992). The fourth face of power refers to its capability to control and shape the current paradigm. A paradigm is an unquestioned set of fundamental beliefs that shape the reality of everyone in society. All actions and decisions taken by agents will indefinitely be influenced by the parameters set by the paradigm in which they operate. Controlling the paradigm allows one to, in effect, control all agents operating within the paradigm. The actions of any government will inevitably always be the result of the cultural paradigm it operates in. For example, it would be improbable for the United Kingdom’s government to criminalise alcohol consumption, given how pubs are central to British culture.
Digeser’s fourth face of power is synonymous with Marxist philosopher Antonio Gramsci’s idea of cultural hegemony, which he developed during his imprisonment under Italy’s National Fascist Party (Gramsci, 1929-1935). According to Gramsci, the ruling class manipulate society’s culture so that their worldview becomes the accepted cultural norm. This universal dominant ideology presents the social, political and economic status quo as natural conditions that benefit every social class. In reality, the status quo only benefits the ruling class. Currently, the USA has a global cultural hegemony evidenced by its considerable social, political and economic influence in countries worldwide. The USA maintains its geopolitical dominance by using its media to present its goals as righteous and for the greater good. In addition, the threat that the US military poses to subordinate states also ensures that they do not step out of line.
In summary, power has two aspects: bases and faces. For A to get B to do something that B would otherwise not do, A must draw on the appropriate power base or combination of power bases. This is A’s source of power. There are six potential power bases: legitimate, referent, expert, reward, coercive and informational. A’s source of power can then be used in four distinct ways: the four faces of power. To illustrate this conceptualisation of power, one can refer to the example of the Facebook-Cambridge Analytica Data Scandal.
Social media platform Facebook exposed the data of up to 87 million of its users to political consulting firm Cambridge Analytica which utilised it to influence the outcome of the 2016 United States presidential election in favour of Donald Trump (Vox, 2018). The main power base that Cambridge Analytica drew from was informational power in the form of user data. Cambridge Analytica then utilised the third face of this informational power to shape the preferences of Facebook users in favour of Trump without them knowing. When it came to election time, these same users voted for Trump. Therefore, Cambridge Analytica had power over Facebook users as it could get them to vote for Trump, which they may not have done otherwise.
Based on this essay’s conceptualisation of power, it can be concluded that any entity can exercise power so long as it has access to a sufficient base of power. Almost anyone can exercise the first two faces of power. For example, a child has the power to decide which flavour of ice cream they wish to consume (first face of power). Similarly, the child’s parent decides whether the child is allowed to consume ice cream in the first place (second face of power). However, the last two faces of power, which are far more absolute in nature, are usually reserved for entities with access to far larger power bases, namely the state. As such, the remainder of this essay concerns the distribution of state power, focusing on the third and fourth faces of power.
Distribution of Power
There are two predominant theories for the distribution of state power: elitism and pluralism. The main difference is that pluralists assert power is horizontally dispersed, whereas elitists assert power is vertically concentrated. Therefore, pluralism and elitism can be viewed as two extremes on the same scale. However, as we will come to see, the truth is really a mix of both views with a slight leaning towards the elitist framework.
Classical pluralism is predicated on the idea that society comprises vastly different groups vying for power (Smith, 2006). These groups compete to influence different parts of the state; however, no single group is able to dominate policy-making. Power is dispersed between these different groups. As a result, the state remains relatively neutral, balancing the weight of different demands in the national interest. Classical pluralism thus sees all groups as having an equal say in the decisions taken by the state.
The fundamental flaw in classical pluralism is that certain groups’ interests are not reflected in the national agenda, having zero say in policy-making decisions because they lack the necessary resources to influence the state. In other words, some groups lack the necessary power bases to exercise the third and fourth faces of power while others do. For instance, the championing of neo-liberal ideas under the Thatcher governments of the 1980s led to increased depoliticisation as many decision-making powers were given to non-governmental organisations, taking them out of the purview of the general public. In addition, tax and welfare reductions transferred resources from poor groups to wealthy groups (Harvey, 2005). Subsequently, some groups felt their concerns were not being addressed by the state leading to widespread dissatisfaction, particularly amongst the working class. The continuation of depoliticisation measures in the decades since has contributed to anti-politics and the recent rise in populism (Hay, 2007).
Reformed pluralism addressed this flaw in the pluralist model by conceding that certain groups exercise greater influence over the state than others. (Smith, 2006). Groups achieve this by forming close relationships with the state and pooling their resources together in policy networks, such as the British Chambers of Commerce. Power is still dispersed but only amongst a particular set of groups. Despite this, reformed pluralism maintains that countervailing powers can develop in other parts of the state to challenge the position of the dominant groups. Overall, this concession moves pluralism closer to the position held by elitists; power is concentrated.
Classical elitism is predicated on the idea that there are two classes in every society: the ruling class that holds power and the subordinate class that does not (Evans, 2006). The ruling class constitutes a single socially cohesive group territorially closed-off from the subordinate class. Power is concentrated amongst the ruling class. As a result, the state is dominated by a single group, whose ideas become the ruling ideas of society. This is an inevitability in all societies making direct government by the masses impossible. Classical elitism thus sees society as the dictatorship of the majority by the minority.
The major flaw in elitism is that the ruling class is one homogeneous group with a single goal in mind. If this were the case, opposition parties would not exist, and all democracies would be reduced to single-party systems. In addition, if power were concentrated in a single group, they would do as they please without anyone having the power to challenge them. In reality, the decisions made by the executive are checked and balanced by the legislature and judiciary. For example, in 2017, the Supreme Court ruled that introducing employment tribunal fees of up to £1,200 in 2013 was unlawful (BBC, 2017). Therefore, it would be disingenuous to reject the pluralist’s ideas outright. In other words, power bases must exist outside the control of a single homogenous group.
Contemporary elitism rectified this flaw by conceding that the ruling class comprises multiple factions engaged in an ongoing process of competitive elitism (Evans, 2006). These factions must retain links with global elite networks, such as the European Commission, to maintain their power bases in society. Power is still concentrated, but it is now concentrated amongst a particular set of groups rather than a single group. Overall, this concession moves elitism closer to the position held by pluralism; power is dispersed.
By consolidating these two opposing viewpoints, one can assert that power is distributed at three different levels (Evans, 2006). Each level consists of competing factions vying for state control with different degrees of power at their disposal. At the bottom level, there is the politically fragmented society of the masses. Agents only have access to the sufficient power bases needed to exercise the first two faces of power. At the middle level, there is the semi-organised stalemate of interest groups and legislative politics. Groups have access to the sufficient power bases needed to exercise the first three faces of power. At the top level, there are those in command of major institutional hierarchies, otherwise known as the ruling class. The ruling class has access to the sufficient power bases needed to exercise all the faces of power. The vast majority of absolute power is concentrated amongst the dominant ruling faction. However, there is still the potential for other ruling factions to amass countervailing powers, keeping the dominant ruling faction in check. Therefore, the distribution of power follows an elitist-leaning framework; power is concentrated in its dispersal. To illustrate this power distribution model, one can refer to the United Kingdom.
At the bottom level, there is the British public. In everyday life, British citizens can exercise the first two faces of power as they make direct decisions about their own lives as well as exert nominal control over those around them, whether it be family, friends or colleagues. At the middle level, there are multiple interest groups and political parties with varying degrees of influence competing to exert their control over the state. These groups can exercise the first three faces of power as they have the resources to produce propaganda and influence the values of the British public. For example, UKIP’s political rhetoric concerning immigration significantly influenced the outcome of the EU referendum. At the top level, there is the political elite with control over the United Kingdom’s major institutions. The political elite is divided into multiple factions and can exercise all four faces of power. Currently, the dominant faction is the Conservative Party, with control over the executive and the majority of the legislature. The Conservative Party’s power is countervailed by other factions of the political elite, such as the Labour Party with its control over the remaining legislature and the Supreme Court with its control over the judiciary. Despite this, all factions of the political elite remain part of the same ruling class.
Based on this model for the distribution of power, it can be concluded that the ruling class holds the most absolute power. They have access to the sufficient power bases needed to control and shape the current paradigm. By shaping the paradigm, they control all the agents operating within it. In other words, only the ruling class can exercise the fourth face of power. In addition, the ruling class retains the greatest degree of agency as they are at the top of the state structure. Overall, the ruling class are the most powerful actors in society.
Conclusion
To summarise, power is the extent to which one entity can influence another to do something it otherwise would not do. The entity must draw on the appropriate power base or combination of power bases to exercise power over another and achieve its desired outcome. There are six such power bases (legitimate, referent, expert, reward, coercive and informational) that can be utilised in four distinct ways (the four faces of power). While almost any entity can exercise the first two faces of power, only certain entities have the necessary agency and sufficient power bases to exercise the third and fourth faces of power. These entities are best typified by the ruling class. Therefore, it can be concluded that absolute power is an influencing force concentrated and dispersed amongst the political elite.
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Aqil Ghani 