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Foreign Affairs
While America Slept: Understanding Terrorism and Counterterrorism
By Ellen Laipson
The Age of Sacred Terror. By Daniel Benjamin and Steven Simon. New York: Random House, 2002, 490 pp. $25.95
Ellen Laipson is President and Chief Executive Officer of the Henry L. Stimson Center. She served as Vice Chair of the National Intelligence Council from 1997 to 2002 and as Director for Near East and South Asian Affairs on the National Security Council staff from 1993 to 1995.
Throughout the 1990s, the U.S. foreign policy establishment confronted a simple but profound dilemma. Now that the Cold War dragon had been slain, to paraphrase former Director of Central Intelligence James Woolsey, which of the many snakes at America's feet deserved the most attention? Was it instability from failing states, the potential for a resurgent Russia, China's military modernization, or Islamist terrorism? In the absence of clear guidance, the national security bureaucracy did not systematically organize itself to counter one particular threat. Meanwhile, in the remote corners of the Muslim world and in the shabby suburbs of major Western cities, al Qaeda operatives displayed no such confusion. Slowly and steadily, they were building up their capabilities and cadres to expand their jihad against the West. These two parallel stories came together in tragedy on September 11, 2001. In an important new book, Daniel Benjamin and Steven Simon, two former counterterrorism officials on President Bill Clinton's National Security Council (NSC) staff, vividly recount this history, describing how al Qaeda emerged and how America responded.
Ancient Texts, Present Anger
In its public rhetoric about terrorism before both American and international audiences, the Bush administration, like the Clinton administration before it, correctly distinguishes between violent extremists who profess to act in the name of Islam and the millions of peaceful, honorable Muslims around the world. The United States is not declaring war on Islam, U.S. leaders assure the world; it opposes only those deviants who abuse the religion in the name of their twisted messianic visions.
Benjamin and Simon usefully point out that the virtues of this public position notwithstanding, it should not be confused with the truth. Their book's most important and lasting contribution is its exploration of the relationship between al Qaeda's toxic message and the Muslim mainstream. They examine in considerable detail the gradual evolution of Islamist political thought, describing the timeless influence of Islamic thinkers such as the thirteenth-century theologian Taqi al Din ibn Taymiyya and the eighteenth-century preacher Muhammad ibn Abd al-Wahab, whose ideas form the political and religious foundation of modern Saudi Arabia. What the authors find is disturbing. According to them, al Qaeda's belief system cannot be separated neatly from Islamic teachings, because it has -- selectively and perNICiously -- built on fundamental Islamic ideas and principles. This link applies to contemporary issues as well: al Qaeda's views on Islamic law, Israel, or Iraq would not differ significantly from the positions of moderate Islamists, even if they disagree on the use of violence to further their goals.
Benjamin and Simon have done their homework. They have pored over ancient texts and have a sophisticated sense of the full range of ideas presented by Islamic theologians, not just the bumper-sticker version grasped by the popular press and by so many semi-educated Islamists. Ibn Taymiyya, for instance, had advanced ideas about governance and statecraft but is known to al Qaeda's followers only for his thoughts on jihad. His justification of holy war against Muslim "apostates" helps explain al Qaeda's willingness to inflict casualties on Muslims. The authors also convincingly weave abstract theology together with the often difficult economic and political realities of life in the Middle East to explain why some simple but powerful ideas have shaped the minds and actions of many young Muslims.
Although they focus unsentimentally on what makes the radical Islamist terrorists tick, the authors do see them as real-life characters whose political ideas were shaped by their own lives and by the historical experience of their families, tribes, and nations. Osama bin Laden, his deputy Ayman al-Zawahiri, and Ramzi Youssef (the mastermind behind the 1993 World Trade Center bombing) are all treated in a remarkably three-dimensional way. Indeed, one senses a grudging respect for the tenacity and dedication of these mortal adversaries, a syndrome one sees also among former Cold Warriors.
Much has been said about the middle-class origins of most of the September 11 hijackers, rebutting the popular notion that poverty and humiliation can explain terrorism. Benjamin and Simon take the analysis further, providing poignant insight into the "half-baked" men of the Muslim world. They are not scheming against the West out of isolation and ignorance; they are instead motivated by failed or futile attempts to interact with the West. Some of bin Laden's followers had hoped to flourish in Western nations but failed to thrive there and were then susceptible to recruitment. Others came with a political agenda and lived a double life until mobilized by their al Qaeda masters. The authors show that exposure to the West was somehow a damaging experience. Some terrorists were religious by upbringing and felt compromised by the looser mores of the West, others tried to fit in but were rebuffed.
Muhammad Atta, the Egyptian-born ringleader of the September 11 attacks, was a telling case. He studied in Germany to avoid the fate of his unemployed and alienated compatriots back home, and he tried to bridge his two worlds by writing a thesis on the conflict between tradition and modernity in the Syrian city of Aleppo. To understand him, Benjamin and Simon indulge in a little amateur psychoanalysis: "At some point ... he had a brush with temptation; perhaps he felt he had succumbed. Whatever touched him, he identified with the West. It might have been as simple as a personal desire to be part of the West that caused him to feel contaminated. His repulsion was powerful, and he felt somehow humiliated."
After describing the history and motivations of al Qaeda, the first half of the book ends with a chapter titled "Fields of Jihad." It quickly reviews the status of Islamists across the Muslim world, assessing the power of jihadists in Egypt, Saudi Arabia, the Palestinian territories, Pakistan, and Central Asia, among others. But Benjamin and Simon end the section with a reminder that radical Islamists live in Western societies too, not only among immigrant Muslim communities but also as converts. The lesson is that we must think less about the Muslim world and more about radical Muslims in the world. Geography may matter less and less as this struggle continues.
Benjamin and Simon deserve praise not only for the powerful content of their study of terror, but also for how they went about it. For instance, they uncovered some of the links between early Islamic theology and al Qaeda by sifting through documents from the trials of defendants in the 1993 World Trade Center bombing and the 1998 East African embassy bombings. They demonstrate an original synthesis of academic research, textual analysis, and investigative reporting. For its thoroughness, graceful prose, and important insights, the first half of the book is impressive.