The Politics of Rage: Why Do They Hate Us? By Fareed Zakaria. Newsweek, October 15, 2001. Also here.
Zakaria:
To dismiss the terrorists as insane is to
delude ourselves. Bin Laden and his fellow fanatics are products of failed
societies that breed their anger. America needs a plan that will not only
defeat terror but reform the Arab world
To the
question “Why do the terrorists hate us?” Americans could be pardoned for
answering, “Why should we care?” The immediate reaction to the murder of 5,000
innocents is anger, not analysis. Yet anger will not be enough to get us
through what is sure to be a long struggle. For that we will need answers. The
ones we have heard so far have been comforting but familiar. We stand for freedom
and they hate it. We are rich and they envy us. We are strong and they resent
this. All of which is true. But there are billions of poor and weak and
oppressed people around the world. They don’t turn planes into bombs. They
don’t blow themselves up to kill thousands of civilians. If envy were the cause
of terrorism, Beverly Hills, Fifth Avenue and Mayfair would have become morgues
long ago. There is something stronger at work here than deprivation and
jealousy. Something that can move men to kill but also to die.
Osama
bin Laden has an answer—religion. For him and his followers, this is a holy war
between Islam and the Western world. Most Muslims disagree. Every Islamic
country in the world has condemned the attacks of Sept. 11. To many, bin Laden
belongs to a long line of extremists who have invoked religion to justify mass
murder and spur men to suicide. The words “thug,” “zealot” and “assassin” all
come from ancient terror cults—Hindu, Jewish and Muslim, respectively—that
believed they were doing the work of God. The terrorist's mind is its own
place, and like Milton’s Satan, can make a hell of heaven, a heaven of hell.
Whether it is the Unabomber, Aum Shinrikyo or Baruch Goldstein (who killed
scores of unarmed Muslims in Hebron), terrorists are almost always misfits who
place their own twisted morality above mankind’s.
But bin
Laden and his followers are not an isolated cult like Aum Shinrikyo or the
Branch Davidians or demented loners like Timothy McVeigh and the Unabomber.
They come out of a culture that reinforces their hostility, distrust and hatred
of the West—and of America in particular. This culture does not condone
terrorism but fuels the fanaticism that is at its heart. To say that Al Qaeda
is a fringe group may be reassuring, but it is false. Read the Arab press in
the aftermath of the attacks and you will detect a not-so-hidden admiration for
bin Laden. Or consider this from the Pakistani newspaper The Nation: “September 11 was not mindless terrorism for
terrorism’s sake. It was reaction and revenge, even retribution.” Why else is
America's response to the terror attacks so deeply constrained by fears of an
“Islamic backlash” on the streets? Pakistan will dare not allow Washington the
use of its bases. Saudi Arabia trembles at the thought of having to help us
publicly. Egypt pleads that our strikes be as limited as possible. The problem
is not that Osama bin Laden believes that this is a religious war against
America. It’s that millions of people across the Islamic world seem to agree.
This
awkward reality has led some in the West to dust off old essays and older
prejudices predicting a “clash of civilizations” between the West and Islam.
The historian Paul Johnson has argued that Islam is intrinsically an intolerant
and violent religion. Other scholars have disagreed, pointing out that Islam
condemns the slaughter of innocents and prohibits suicide. Nothing will be
solved by searching for “true Islam” or quoting the Quran. The Quran is a vast,
vague book, filled with poetry and contradictions (much like the Bible).
You can
find in it condemnations of war and incitements to struggle, beautiful
expressions of tolerance and stern strictures against unbelievers. Quotations
from it usually tell us more about the person who selected the passages than
about Islam. Every religion is compatible with the best and the worst of
humankind. Through its long history, Christianity has supported inquisitions
and anti-Semitism, but also human rights and social welfare.
Searching
the history books is also of limited value. From the Crusades of the 11th
century to the Turkish expansion of the 15th century to the colonial era in the
early 20th century, Islam and the West have often battled militarily. This
tension has existed for hundreds of years, during which there have been many
periods of peace and even harmony. Until the 1950s, for example, Jews and
Christians lived peaceably under Muslim rule. In fact, Bernard Lewis, the
pre-eminent historian of Islam, has argued that for much of history religious
minorities did better under Muslim rulers than they did under Christian ones.
All that has changed in the past few decades. So surely the relevant question
we must ask is, Why are we in a particularly difficult phase right now? What
has gone wrong in the world of Islam that explains not the conquest of
Constantinople in 1453 or the siege of Vienna of 1683 but Sept. 11, 2001?
Let us
first peer inside that vast Islamic world. Many of the largest Muslim countries
in the world show little of this anti-American rage. The biggest, Indonesia,
had, until the recent Asian economic crisis, been diligently following
Washington’s advice on economics, with impressive results. The second and third
most populous Muslim countries, Pakistan and Bangladesh, have mixed Islam and
modernity with some success. While both countries are impoverished, both have
voted a woman into power as prime minister, before most Western countries have
done so. Next is Turkey, the sixth largest Muslim country in the world, a
flawed but functioning secular democracy and a close ally of the West (being a
member of NATO).
Only
when you get to the Middle East do you see in lurid colors all the dysfunctions
that people conjure up when they think of Islam today. In Iran, Egypt, Syria,
Iraq, Jordan, the occupied territories and the Persian Gulf, the resurgence of
Islamic fundamentalism is virulent, and a raw anti-Americanism seems to be
everywhere. This is the land of suicide bombers, flag-burners and fiery
mullahs. As we strike Afghanistan it is worth remembering that not a single
Afghan has been tied to a terrorist attack against the United States.
Afghanistan
is the campground from which an Arab army is battling America. But even the
Arab rage at America is relatively recent. In the 1950s and 1960s it seemed
unimaginable that the United States and the Arab world would end up locked in a
cultural clash. Egypt’s most powerful journalist, Mohamed Heikal, described the
mood at the time: “The whole picture of the United States... was a glamorous
one. Britain and France were fading, hated empires. The Soviet Union was 5,000
miles away and the ideology of communism was anathema to the Muslim religion.
But America had emerged from World War II richer, more powerful and more
appealing than ever.” I first traveled to the Middle East in the early 1970s,
and even then the image of America was of a glistening, approachable modernity:
fast cars, Hilton hotels and Coca-Cola. Something happened in these lands. To
understand the roots of anti-American rage in the Middle East, we need to plumb
not the past 300 years of history but the past 30.
Chapter I: The Ruler
It is
difficult to conjure up the excitement in the Arab world in the late 1950s as
Gamal Abdel Nasser consolidated power in Egypt. For decades Arabs had been
ruled by colonial governors and decadent kings. Now they were achieving their
dreams of independence, and Nasser was their new savior, a modern man for the
postwar era. He was born under British rule, in Alexandria, a cosmopolitan city
that was more Mediterranean than Arab. His formative years were spent in the
Army, the most Westernized segment of the society. With his tailored suits and
fashionable dark glasses, he cut an energetic figure on the world stage. “The
Lion of Egypt,” he spoke for all the Arab world.
Nasser
believed that Arab politics needed to be fired by modern ideas like
self-determination, socialism and Arab unity. And before oil money turned the
Gulf States into golden geese, Egypt was the undisputed leader of the Middle
East. So Nasser’s vision became the region's. Every regime, from the Baathists
in Syria and Iraq to the conservative monarchies of the Gulf, spoke in similar
terms and tones. It wasn’t that they were just aping Nasser. The Middle East
desperately wanted to become modern.
It
failed. For all their energy these regimes chose bad ideas and implemented them
in worse ways. Socialism produced bureaucracy and stagnation. Rather than
adjusting to the failures of central planning, the economies never really moved
on. The republics calcified into dictatorships. Third World “nonalignment”
became pro-Soviet propaganda. Arab unity cracked and crumbled as countries
discovered their own national interests and opportunities. Worst of all, Israel
humiliated the Arabs in the wars of 1967 and 1973. When Saddam Hussein invaded
Kuwait in 1990, he destroyed the last remnants of the Arab idea.
Look at
Egypt today. The promise of Nasserism has turned into a quiet nightmare. The
government is efficient in only one area: squashing dissent and strangling
civil society. In the past 30 years Egypt’s economy has sputtered along while
its population has doubled. Unemployment is at 25 percent, and 90 percent of
those searching for jobs hold college diplomas. Once the heart of Arab
intellectual life, the country produces just 375 books every year (compared
with Israel’s 4,000). For all the angry protests to foreigners, Egyptians know
all this.
Shockingly,
Egypt has fared better than its Arab neighbors. Syria has become one of the
world’s most oppressive police states, a country where 25,000 people can be
rounded up and killed by the regime with no consequences. (This in a land whose
capital, Damascus, is the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world.) In
30 years Iraq has gone from being among the most modern and secular of Arab
countries—with women working, artists thriving, journalists writing—into a
squalid playpen for Saddam Hussein’s megalomania. Lebanon, a diverse,
cosmopolitan society with a capital, Beirut, that was once called the Paris of
the East, has become a hellhole of war and terror. In an almost unthinkable
reversal of a global pattern, almost every Arab country today is less free than
it was 30 years ago. There are few countries in the world of which one can say
that.
We
think of Africa’s dictators as rapacious, but those in the Middle East can be
just as greedy. And when contrasted with the success of Israel, Arab failures
are even more humiliating. For all its flaws, out of the same desert Israel has
created a functioning democracy, a modern society with an increasingly
high-technology economy and thriving artistic and cultural life. Israel now has
a per capita GDP that equals that of many Western countries.
If
poverty produced failure in most of Arabia, wealth produced failure in the rest
of it. The rise of oil power in the 1970s gave a second wind to Arab hopes.
Where Nasserism failed, petroleum would succeed. But it didn’t. All that the
rise of oil prices has done over three decades is to produce a new class of
rich, superficially Western Gulf Arabs, who travel the globe in luxury and are
despised by the rest of the Arab world. Look at any cartoons of Gulf sheiks in
Egyptian, Jordanian or Syrian newspapers. They are portrayed in the most
insulting, almost racist manner: as corpulent, corrupt and weak. Most Americans
think that Arabs should be grateful for our role in the gulf war, for we saved
Kuwait and Saudi Arabia. Most Arabs think that we saved the Kuwaiti and Saudi royal families. Big difference.
The
money that the Gulf sheiks have frittered away is on a scale that is almost
impossible to believe. Just one example: a favored prince of Saudi Arabia, at
the age of 25, built a palace in Riyadh for $300 million and, as an additional
bounty, was given a $1 billion commission on the kingdom’s telephone contract with
AT&T. Far from producing political progress, wealth has actually had some
negative effects. It has enriched and empowered the gulf governments so that,
like their Arab brethren, they, too, have become more repressive over time. The
Bedouin societies they once ruled have become gilded cages, filled with
frustrated, bitter and discontented young men—some of whom now live in
Afghanistan and work with Osama bin Laden. (Bin Laden and some of his aides
come from privileged backgrounds in Saudi Arabia.)
By the
late 1980s, while the rest of the world was watching old regimes from Moscow to
Prague to Seoul to Johannesburg crack, the Arabs were stuck with their aging
dictators and corrupt kings. Regimes that might have seemed promising in the
1960s were now exposed as tired, corrupt kleptocracies, deeply unpopular and
thoroughly illegitimate. One has to add that many of them are close American
allies.
Chapter II: Failed Ideas
About a
decade ago, in a casual conversation with an elderly Arab intellectual, I
expressed my frustration that governments in the Middle East had been unable to
liberalize their economies and societies in the way that the East Asians had
done. “Look at Singapore, Hong Kong and Seoul,” I said, pointing to their
extraordinary economic achievements. The man, a gentle, charming scholar,
straightened up and replied sharply, “Look at them. They have simply aped the
West. Their cities are cheap copies of Houston and Dallas. That may be all
right for fishing villages. But we are heirs to one of the great civilizations
of the world. We cannot become slums of the West.”
This
disillusionment with the West is at the heart of the Arab problem. It makes
economic advance impossible and political progress fraught with difficulty.
Modernization is now taken to mean, inevitably, uncontrollably, Westernization
and, even worse, Americanization. This fear has paralyzed Arab civilization. In
some ways the Arab world seems less ready to confront the age of globalization
than even Africa, despite the devastation that continent has suffered from AIDS
and economic and political dysfunction. At least the Africans want to adapt to the new global economy.
The Arab world has not yet taken that first step.
The
question is how a region that once yearned for modernity could reject it so
dramatically. In the Middle Ages the Arabs studied Aristotle (when he was long
forgotten in the West) and invented algebra. In the 19th century, when the West
set ashore in Arab lands, in the form of Napoleon’s conquest of Egypt, the
locals were fascinated by this powerful civilization. In fact, as the historian
Albert Hourani has documented, the 19th century saw European-inspired liberal
political and social thought flourish in the Middle East.
The
colonial era of the late 19th and early 20th centuries raised hopes of British
friendship that were to be disappointed, but still Arab elites remained
fascinated with the West. Future kings and generals attended Victoria College
in Alexandria, learning the speech and manners of British gentlemen. Many then
went on to Oxford, Cambridge and Sandhurst—a tradition that is still maintained
by Jordan’s royal family, though now they go to Hotchkiss or Lawrenceville.
After World War I, a new liberal age flickered briefly in the Arab world, as
ideas about opening up politics and society gained currency in places like
Egypt, Lebanon, Iraq and Syria. But since they were part of a world of kings
and aristocrats, these ideas died with those old regimes. The new ones,
however, turned out to be just as Western.
Nasser
thought his ideas for Egypt and the Arab world were modern. They were also
Western. His “national charter” of 1962 reads as if it were written by
left-wing intellectuals in Paris or London. (Like many Third World leaders of
the time, Nasser was a devoted reader of France’s Le Monde and Britain’s New
Statesman.) Even his most passionately held project, Pan-Arabism, was
European.
It was
a version of the nationalism that had united Italy and Germany in the
1870s—that those who spoke one language should be one nation. America thinks of
modernity as all good—and it has been almost all good for America. But for the
Arab world, modernity has been one failure after another. Each path
followed—socialism, secularism, nationalism—has turned into a dead end. While
other countries adjusted to their failures, Arab regimes got stuck in their
ways. And those that reformed economically could not bring themselves to ease
up politically. The Shah of Iran, the Middle Eastern ruler who tried to move
his country into the modern era fastest, reaped the most violent reaction in
the Iranian revolution of 1979. But even the shah’s modernization—compared, for
example, with the East Asian approach of hard work, investment and thrift—was
an attempt to buy modernization with oil wealth.
It
turns out that modernization takes more than strongmen and oil money. Importing
foreign stuff—Cadillacs, Gulfstreams and McDonald’s—is easy. Importing the
inner stuffings of modern society—a free market, political parties,
accountability and the rule of law—is difficult and dangerous. The Gulf States,
for example, have gotten modernization lite, with the goods and even the
workers imported from abroad. Nothing was homegrown; nothing is even now. As
for politics, the Gulf governments offered their people a bargain: we will
bribe you with wealth, but in return let us stay in power. It was the inverse
slogan of the American Revolution—no taxation, but no representation either.
The new
age of globalization has hit the Arab world in a very strange way. Its
societies are open enough to be disrupted by modernity, but not so open that
they can ride the wave. They see the television shows, the fast foods and the
fizzy drinks. But they don’t see genuine liberalization in the society, with
increased opportunities and greater openness. Globalization in the Arab world
is the critic’s caricature of globalization—a slew of Western products and
billboards with little else. For some in their societies it means more things
to buy. For the regimes it is an unsettling, dangerous phenomenon. As a result,
the people they rule can look at globalization but for the most part not touch
it.
America
stands at the center of this world of globalization. It seems unstoppable. If
you close the borders, America comes in through the mail. If you censor the
mail, it appears in the fast food and faded jeans. If you ban the products, it
seeps in through satellite television. Americans are so comfortable with global
capitalism and consumer culture that we cannot fathom just how revolutionary
these forces are.
Disoriented
young men, with one foot in the old world and another in the new, now look for
a purer, simpler alternative. Fundamentalism searches for such people
everywhere; it, too, has been globalized. One can now find men in Indonesia who
regard the Palestinian cause as their own. (Twenty years ago an Indonesian
Muslim would barely have known where Palestine was.) Often they learned about
this path away from the West while they were in the West. As did Mohamed Atta,
the Hamburg-educated engineer who drove the first plane into the World Trade
Center.
The
Arab world has a problem with its Attas in more than one sense. Globalization
has caught it at a bad demographic moment. Arab societies are going through a
massive youth bulge, with more than half of most countries’ populations under
the age of 25. Young men, often better educated than their parents, leave their
traditional villages to find work. They arrive in noisy, crowded cities like
Cairo, Beirut and Damascus or go to work in the oil states. (Almost 10 percent
of Egypt’s working population worked in the Gulf at one point.) In their new
world they see great disparities of wealth and the disorienting effects of
modernity; most unsettlingly, they see women, unveiled and in public places,
taking buses, eating in cafes and working alongside them.
A huge
influx of restless young men in any country is bad news. When accompanied by
even small economic and social change, it usually produces a new politics of
protest. In the past, societies in these circumstances have fallen prey to a
search for revolutionary solutions. (France went through a youth bulge just
before the French Revolution, as did Iran before its 1979 revolution.) In the
case of the Arab world, this revolution has taken the form of an Islamic
resurgence.
Chapter III: Enter Religion
Nasser
was a reasonably devout Muslim, but he had no interest in mixing religion with
politics. It struck him as moving backward. This became apparent to the small
Islamic parties that supported Nasser’s rise to power. The most important one,
the Muslim Brotherhood, began opposing him vigorously, often violently.
Nasser
cracked down on it in 1954, imprisoning more than a thousand of its leaders and
executing six. One of those jailed, Sayyid Qutub, a frail man with a fiery pen,
wrote a book in prison called Signposts
on the Road, which in some ways marks the beginnings of modern political
Islam or what is often called “Islamic fundamentalism.”
In his
book, Qutub condemned Nasser as an impious Muslim and his regime as un-Islamic.
Indeed, he went on, almost every modern Arab regime was similarly flawed. Qutub
envisioned a better, more virtuous polity that was based on strict Islamic
principles, a core goal of orthodox Muslims since the 1880s. As the regimes of
the Middle East grew more distant and oppressive and hollow in the decades
following Nasser, fundamentalism’s appeal grew. It flourished because the
Muslim Brotherhood and organizations like it at least tried to give people a
sense of meaning and purpose in a changing world, something no leader in the
Middle East tried to do.
In his
seminal work, The Arab Predicament,
Fouad Ajami explains, “The fundamentalist call has resonance because it invited
men to participate... [in] contrast to a political culture that reduces
citizens to spectators and asks them to leave things to their rulers. At a time
when the future is uncertain, it connects them to a tradition that reduces
bewilderment.” Fundamentalism gave Arabs who were dissatisfied with their lot a
powerful language of opposition.
On that
score, Islam had little competition. The Arab world is a political desert with
no real political parties, no free press, few pathways for dissent. As a
result, the mosque turned into the place to discuss politics. And
fundamentalist organizations have done more than talk. From the Muslim Brotherhood
to Hamas to Hizbullah, they actively provide social services, medical
assistance, counseling and temporary housing. For those who treasure civil
society, it is disturbing to see that in the Middle East these illiberal groups
are civil society.
I asked
Sheri Berman, a scholar at Princeton who studies the rise of fascist parties in
Europe, whether she saw any parallels. “Fascists were often very effective at
providing social services,” she pointed out. “When the state or political
parties fail to provide a sense of legitimacy or purpose or basic services,
other organizations have often been able to step into the void. In Islamic
countries there is a ready-made source of legitimacy in the religion. So it’s
not surprising that this is the foundation on which these groups have
flourished. The particular form—Islamic fundamentalism—is specific to this
region, but the basic dynamic is similar to the rise of Nazism, fascism and
even populism in the United States.”
Islamic
fundamentalism got a tremendous boost in 1979 when Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini
toppled the Shah of Iran. The Iranian revolution demonstrated that a powerful
ruler could be taken on by groups within society. It also revealed how in a
broken society even seemingly benign forces of progress—education and
technology—can add to the turmoil. Until the 1970s most Muslims in the Middle
East were illiterate and lived in villages and towns. They practiced a kind of
street-Islam that had adapted itself to the local culture. Pluralistic and
tolerant, these people often worshiped saints, went to shrines, sang religious
hymns and cherished religious art, all technically disallowed in Islam. (This
was particularly true in Iran.) By the 1970s, however, people had begun moving
out of the villages and their religious experience was not rooted in a specific
place. At the same time they were learning to read and they discovered that a
new Islam was being preached by the fundamentalists, an abstract faith not
rooted in historical experience but literal, puritanical and by the book. It
was Islam of the High Church as opposed to Islam of the village fair.
In
Iran, Ayatollah Khomeini used a powerful technology—the audiocassette. His
sermons were distributed throughout the country and became the vehicle of
opposition to the shah’s repressive regime. But Khomeini was not alone in using
the language of Islam as a political tool. Intellectuals, disillusioned by the
half-baked or overrapid modernization that was throwing their world into
turmoil, were writing books against “Westoxification” and calling the modern
Iranian man—half Western, half Eastern—rootless. Fashionable intellectuals,
often writing from the comfort of London or Paris, would critique American
secularism and consumerism and endorse an Islamic alternative. As theories like
these spread across the Arab world, they appealed not to the poorest of the
poor, for whom Westernization was magical (it meant food and medicine). They
appealed to the half-educated hordes entering the cities of the Middle East or
seeking education and jobs in the West.
The
fact that Islam is a highly egalitarian religion for the most part has also
proved an empowering call for people who felt powerless. At the same time it
means that no Muslim really has the authority to question whether someone who
claims to be a proper Muslim is one. The fundamentalists, from Sayyid Qutub on,
have jumped into that the void. They ask whether people are “good Muslims.” It
is a question that has terrified the Muslim world. And here we come to the
failure not simply of governments but intellectual and social elites. Moderate
Muslims are loath to criticize or debunk the fanaticism of the fundamentalists.
Like
the moderates in Northern Ireland, they are scared of what would happen to them
if they speak their mind.
The
biggest Devil’s bargain has been made by the moderate monarchies of the Persian
Gulf, particularly Saudi Arabia. The Saudi regime has played a dangerous game.
It deflects attention from its shoddy record at home by funding religious
schools (madrasas) and centers that spread a rigid, puritanical brand of
Islam—Wahhabism. In the past 30 years Saudi-funded schools have churned out
tens of thousands of half-educated, fanatical Muslims who view the modern world
and non-Muslims with great suspicion. America in this world view is almost
always evil.
This
exported fundamentalism has in turn infected not just other Arab societies but
countries outside the Arab world, like Pakistan. During the 11-year reign of
Gen. Zia ul-Haq, the dictator decided that as he squashed political dissent he
needed allies. He found them in the fundamentalists. With the aid of Saudi
financiers and functionaries, he set up scores of madrasas throughout the
country. They bought him temporary legitimacy but have eroded the social fabric
of Pakistan.
If
there is one great cause of the rise of Islamic fundamentalism, it is the total
failure of political institutions in the Arab world. Muslim elites have averted
their eyes from this reality. Conferences at Islamic centers would still rather
discuss “Islam and the Environment” than examine the dysfunctions of the
current regimes. But as the moderate majority looks the other way, Islam is
being taken over by a small poisonous element, people who advocate cruel
attitudes toward women, education, the economy and modern life in general. I
have seen this happen in India, where I grew up. The rich, colorful,
pluralistic and easygoing Islam of my youth has turned into a dour, puritanical
faith, policed by petty theocrats and religious commissars. The next section
deals with what the United States can do to help the Islamic world. But if
Muslims do not take it upon themselves to stop their religion from falling prey
to medievalists, nothing any outsider can do will save them.
Chapter IV: What To Do
If almost
any Arab were to have read this essay so far, he would have objected vigorously
by now. “It is all very well to talk about the failures of the Arab world,” he
would say, “but what about the failures of the West? You speak of long-term
decline, but our problems are with specific, cruel American policies.” For most
Arabs, relations with the United States have been filled with disappointment.
While
the Arab world has long felt betrayed by Europe’s colonial powers, its
disillusionment with America begins most importantly with the creation of
Israel in 1948. As the Arabs see it, at a time when colonies were winning
independence from the West, here was a state largely composed of foreign people
being imposed on a region with Western backing. The anger deepened in the wake
of America’s support for Israel during the wars of 1967 and 1973, and ever
since in its relations with the Palestinians. The daily exposure to Israel’s
iron-fisted rule over the occupied territories has turned this into the great
cause of the Arab—and indeed the broader Islamic—world. Elsewhere, they look at
American policy in the region as cynically geared to America’s oil interests,
supporting thugs and tyrants without any hesitation. Finally, the bombing and
isolation of Iraq have become fodder for daily attacks on the United States.
While many in the Arab world do not like Saddam Hussein, they believe that the
United States has chosen a particularly inhuman method of fighting him—a method
that is starving an entire nation.
There
is substance to some of these charges, and certainly from the point of view of
an Arab, American actions are never going to seem entirely fair. Like any
country, America has its interests. In my view, America’s greatest sins toward
the Arab world are sins of omission. We have neglected to press any regime
there to open up its society. This neglect turned deadly in the case of
Afghanistan. Walking away from that fractured country after 1989 resulted in
the rise of bin Laden and the Taliban. This is not the gravest error a great
power can make, but it is a common American one. As F. Scott Fitzgerald
explained of his characters in The Great
Gatsby, “They were careless people, Tom and Daisy—they smashed things up
and creatures and then retreated back into their money, or their vast
carelessness... and let other people clean up the mess.” America has not been
venal in the Arab world. But it has been careless.
Yet
carelessness is not enough to explain Arab rage. After all, if concern for the
Palestinians is at the heart of the problem, why have their Arab brethren done
nothing for them? (They cannot resettle in any Arab nation but Jordan, and the
aid they receive from the Gulf States is minuscule.) Israel treats its 1
million Arabs as second-class citizens, a disgrace on its democracy. And yet
the tragedy of the Arab world is that Israel accords them more political rights
and dignities than most Arab nations give to their own people. Why is the focus
of Arab anger on Israel and not those regimes?
The
disproportionate feelings of grievance directed at America have to be placed in
the overall context of the sense of humiliation, decline and despair that
sweeps the Arab world. After all, the Chinese vigorously disagree with most of
America’s foreign policy and have fought wars with U.S. proxies. African states
feel the same sense of disappointment and unfairness. But they do not work it
into a rage against America. Arabs, however, feel that they are under siege
from the modern world and that the United States symbolizes this world. Thus
every action America takes gets magnified a thousandfold. And even when we do
not act, the rumors of our gigantic powers and nefarious deeds still spread.
Most Americans would not believe how common the rumor is throughout the Arab
world that either the CIA or Israel’s Mossad blew up the World Trade Center to
justify attacks on Arabs and Muslims. This is the culture from which the suicide
bombers have come.
America
must now devise a strategy to deal with this form of religious terrorism. As is
now widely understood, this will be a long war, with many fronts and battles
small and large. Our strategy must be divided along three lines: military,
political and cultural. On the military front—by which I mean war, covert
operations and other forms of coercion—the goal is simple: the total
destruction of Al Qaeda. Even if we never understand all the causes of
apocalyptic terror, we must do battle against it. Every person who plans and
helps in a terrorist operation must understand that he will be tracked and
punished. Their operations will be disrupted, their finances drained, their
hideouts destroyed. There will be associated costs to pursuing such a strategy,
but they will all fade if we succeed. Nothing else matters on the military
front.
The
political strategy is more complex and more ambitious. At the broadest level,
we now have a chance to reorder the international system around this pressing
new danger. The degree of cooperation from around the world has been
unprecedented. We should not look on this trend suspiciously. Most governments
feel threatened by the rise of subnational forces like Al Qaeda. Even some that
have clearly supported terrorism in the past, like Iran, seem interested in
re-entering the world community and reforming their ways.
We can
define a strategy for the post-Cold-War era that addresses America’s principal
national-security need and yet is sustained by a broad international consensus.
To do this we will have to give up some Cold-War reflexes, such as an allergy
to multilateralism, and stop insisting that China is about to rival us
militarily or that Russia is likely to re-emerge as a new military threat. (For
10 years now, our defense forces have been aligned for everything but the real
danger we face. This will inevitably change.)
The
purpose of an international coalition is practical and strategic. Given the
nature of this war, we will need the constant cooperation of other
governments—to make arrests, shut down safe houses, close bank accounts and
share intelligence. Alliance politics has become a matter of high national
security. But there is a broader imperative. The United States dominates the
world in a way that inevitably arouses envy or anger or opposition. That comes
with the power, but we still need to get things done. If we can mask our power
in—sorry, work with—institutions like the United Nations Security Council, U.S.
might will be easier for much of the world to bear. Bush’s father understood
this, which is why he ensured that the United Nations sanctioned the Gulf War.
The point here is to succeed, and international legitimacy can help us do that.
Now we
get to Israel. It is obviously one of the central and most charged problems in
the region. But it is a problem to which we cannot offer the Arab world support
for its solution—the extinction of the state. We cannot in any way weaken our
commitment to the existence and health of Israel. Similarly, we cannot abandon
our policy of containing Saddam Hussein. He is building weapons of mass
destruction.
However,
we should not pursue mistaken policies simply out of spite. Our policy toward
Saddam is broken. We have no inspectors in Iraq, the sanctions are—for whatever
reason—starving Iraqis and he continues to build chemical and biological
weapons. There is a way to reorient our policy to focus our pressure on Saddam
and not his people, contain him militarily but not harm common Iraqis
economically. Colin Powell has been trying to do this; he should be given
leeway to try again. In time we will have to address the broader question of
what to do about Saddam, a question that, unfortunately, does not have an easy
answer. (Occupying Iraq, even if we could do it, does not seem a good idea in
this climate.)
On
Israel we should make a clear distinction between its right to exist and its
occupation of the West Bank and Gaza. On the first we should be as unyielding
as ever; on the second we should continue trying to construct a final deal
along the lines that Bill Clinton and Ehud Barak outlined. I suggest that we do
this less because it will lower the temperature in the Arab world—who knows if
it will?—than because it’s the right thing to do. Israel cannot remain a democracy
and continue to occupy and militarily rule 3 million people against their
wishes. It’s bad for Israel, bad for the Palestinians and bad for the United
States.
But
policy changes, large or small, are not at the heart of the struggle we face.
The third, vital component to this battle is a cultural strategy. The United
States must help Islam enter the modern world. It sounds like an impossible
challenge, and it certainly is not one we would have chosen. But America—indeed
the whole world—faces a dire security threat that will not be resolved unless
we can stop the political, economic and cultural collapse that lies at the
roots of Arab rage. During the Cold War the West employed myriad ideological
strategies to discredit the appeal of communism, make democracy seem attractive
and promote open societies. We will have to do something on that scale to win
this cultural struggle.
First,
we have to help moderate Arab states, but on the condition that they embrace
moderation. For too long regimes like Saudi Arabia’s have engaged in a deadly
dance with religious extremism. Even Egypt, which has always denounced
fundamentalism, allows its controlled media to rant crazily about America and
Israel. (That way they don’t rant about the dictatorship they live under.) But
more broadly, we must persuade Arab moderates to make the case to their people
that Islam is compatible with modern society, that it does allow women to work,
that it encourages education and that it has welcomed people of other faiths
and creeds. Some of this they will do—Sept. 11 has been a wake-up call for
many. The Saudi regime denounced and broke its ties to the Taliban (a regime
that it used to glorify as representing pure Islam). The Egyptian press is now
making the case for military action. The United States and the West should do
their own work as well. We can fund moderate Muslim groups and scholars and
broadcast fresh thinking across the Arab world, all aimed at breaking the power
of the fundamentalists.
Obviously
we will have to help construct a new political order in Afghanistan after we
have deposed the Taliban regime. But beyond that we have to press the nations
of the Arab world—and others, like Pakistan, where the virus of fundamentalism
has spread—to reform, open up and gain legitimacy. We need to do business with
these regimes; yet, just as we did with South Korea and Taiwan during the Cold
War, we can ally with these dictatorships and still push them toward reform.
For those who argue that we should not engage in nation-building, I would say
foreign policy is not theology. I have myself been skeptical of nation-building
in places where our interests were unclear and it seemed unlikely that we would
stay the course. In this case, stable political development is the key to
reducing our single greatest security threat. We have no option but to get back
into the nation-building business.
It
sounds like a daunting challenge, but there are many good signs. Al Qaeda is
not more powerful than the combined force of many determined governments. The
world is indeed uniting around American leadership, and perhaps we will see the
emergence, for a while, of a new global community and consensus, which could
bring progress in many other areas of international life. Perhaps most
important, Islamic fundamentalism still does not speak to the majority of the
Muslim people. In Pakistan, fundamentalist parties have yet to get more than 10
percent of the vote. In Iran, having experienced the brutal puritanism of the
mullahs, people are yearning for normalcy. In Egypt, for all the repression,
the fundamentalists are a potent force but so far not dominant. If the West can
help Islam enter modernity in dignity and peace, it will have done more than
achieved security. It will have changed the world.
