So who are the Iraqi insurgents? The NYTimes runs two separate stories attempting to answer that question, one which approaches the topic head on, by
James Bennet, and the other a bit obliquely, by
Steven Weisman and John Burns. Parsing distinctions and throwing up taxonomies to describe the differences between the many insurgents, terrorists and jihadis operating in Iraq is a useful exercise, and Bennet’s piece is largely about the confusion among counter-insurgency experts as to the sociologic behind the hideous acts of mass killing. What do ‘they’ hope to gain from terrorizing the Iraqi public instead of attempting to win them over? This line of inquiry proves too much for Christopher Hitchens, who
tears into Bennet for not labeling the anti-government guerillas the way Hitchens demands: jihadists. Hitchens has a point in that the most extreme and probably the most deadly terror elements appear to be Musab al-Zarqawi’s Al-Qaeda in Iraq, certainly among the worst examples of Islamist nihilism -- but at what point do these jihadist meet up and conspire with Sunni insurgents who can actually be won over by politics? (I don’t hew to Hitchens reflexive outrage over the term ‘insurgent’, you can be a rebel as still be scum.) Discovering the point on the continuum between a jihadist without politics and an insurgent with politics is a precondition to offering a political solution to the insurgency, if that is even possible. Moqtada Al-Sadr in this context is an understandable figure: he adheres to political goals based on a reactionary form of Shi’a Islam, a harsh style of theocratic governance that resembles the Iranian state. Sadr has already declared his hopes for an Islamic Republic with himself in a dominant role but his relative pragmatism and reluctant obeisance to a Shi’a hierarchy has subjected him (so far) to the twin blades of US military supremacy and the higher rank of the Ayatollah Sistani. That is politics however marginal and ugly.
On the other hand, jihadist 'goals' are so far beyond the practically attainable -- with their ardent but vague calls for a
caliphate or a return to the
Ottoman Empire -- that their demands seem
millenarian; messianic more than political. What is likely at work here, among the most militant of the faithful, is a basic nihilistic impulse, one examined by writers like
Ian Buruma and
Paul Berman but rarely extrapolated on in-depth for the nitty-gritty of military and political purposes. Can such nihilistic terrorists really be defeated through a partial war, and if not, how can they be incorporated into a political process? These jihadists in Iraq have not made more concrete political demands because sizable segments within their ranks do not have conventional political demands. Demands which are open to compromise and negotiation, demands that can be incorporated into a successful state structure as potential policy.
Like Eric Hobsbawm’s 1959 classic,
Primitive Rebels, the worst, at the end of the insurgent spectrum, constitute a violent social movement whose desires are
pre-political in nature, bettered expressed with a language of millenarian discontent. Their agitation is for the mystical arrival of a great period of divine justice, of human perfection attained through obeisance to Shari’a. Wrote Hobsbawm of his own subjects:
Moreover, they are pre-political people who have not yet found, or only begun to find, a specific language in which to express their aspirations about the world. . . . . They do not as yet grow with or into modern society: they are broken into it . . . . Their problem is how to adapt themselves to its life and struggles, and the subject of this book is the process of adaption (or failure to adapt) as expressed in their archaic social movements. (p. 2)
Hobsbawm was cautious enough to note that words like ‘primitive’ and ‘archaic’ should not mislead his readers, since such social movements have long historical evolutions and cultural sophistications behind them. And as Chronicles contributor Steven M. Levine often notes, there are many forms of modernity, (Mohammed Atta had a Master’s degree in Urban Planning from a Hamburg University) but the specific modernity confronting jihadist insurgents in Iraq is that of a multi-ethnic democracy in which their extremist brand of religion is a mere minority view, a situation of profound confusion and anathema. In response they seek not to win over the Iraqi population but to punish them. Punish them for succumbing to democracy and collaborating with the American Occupation. Punish them for their lack of faith in a strict Wahabi Islam, their adherence to Iraqi’s Shi’a apostasy. Punish them for adapting to, maybe even welcoming, a modernity with no room for strident caliphates and Islamic empires.
In this grim respect, the horrors unleashed on the Iraqi civilian population resemble the
Algerian civil war of the 1990’s far more than James Bennet’s example of Greece in the 1940s. In Algeria, the internecine warfare and random terror unleashed by Islamic terror groups and the state battling for supremacy cost over 70,000 lives. Like earlier prophetic movements, the Algerian extremists and jihadis didn’t have policy prescriptions or a true politics to implement or argue for. Their millenarian beliefs slid into nihilistic excess the farther they got from winning popular support. Writing about this form of Islamic millenarianism, Western thinkers like Berman and Buruma have linked it back historically to intellectual movements among totalitarian regimes, Russian anarchism, and ultimately, following in the footsteps of Hannah Arendt, German Romanticism. Writes Bennet in the
NYTimes:
Among Iraq's insurgents, the jihadists are one group that has suggested a sweeping goal. They want to establish a new caliphate - a religious regime with expansive boundaries. For them, the destruction and chaos in Iraq may represent creative forces, means of heightening the contrasts among sects, religions and whole civilizations. Searching for parallels, several experts compared the insurgents in Iraq to the violent anarchists of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. That movement took root among the alienated and uprooted who could find no place in modern society.We may be tempted to think that such movements can not survive for long, that the fever for the apocalypse will self-immolate in short order and rationality will then re-assert itself. Mimetically, though, there are troubling counterexamples. Armageddon sells well and never seems to go out of fashion. The Baptist autodidact
William Miller predicted the end of the world from New York first in 1843, then again in 1844, a mania that claimed over 50,000 American adherents in his time. The descendents of his delusion, the Seventh Day Adventists and Jehovah’s Witnesses, still believe and live in the end times. Most have modified and reconciled a pre-political apocalyptic movement enough to live within the confines of modern society, though some splinter groups take the basic premises of prophecy and doom too far (the tragic case of the
Branch Davidians). For the most part this Protestant millenarian sect (denomination?), rarely violent to begin with, has been further tamed, tamed into a largely peaceful, prosperous society without open ethnic warfare. Imagine, for a moment, the history of Miller’s movement if those conditions were reversed. The seeds of nihilism and the apocalypse are not only strewn in other cultures.
What if there is no political solution for the Sunni insurgents in Iraq? What if the
moderates are really as nuts as
Fakhri al-Qaisi first discussed on Chronicles
here . Hopefully he’s just an unusually placed idiot, but if he’s actually representative of a larger constituency then how can recalcitrant Sunni communities be ready for the necessary compromise of politics when their vision of the present reality is so dramatically different from the norm? Writes the
NYTimes:
The council's secretary general, Fakhri al-Qaisi, a Baghdad dentist with a long history of involvement in conservative Islamic groups, contests even the demographics that suggest that any majority-rule government in Iraq will have to be led by Shiites. He argues that Shiites, generally considered to be about 60 percent of the population, are actually about half that, and Sunni Arabs closer to 40 percent than 20 percent, as most Iraqi studies have suggested.After a raid on the council's offices this week, he said that the council was genuine in its desire to participate in the political process, but that its commitment had been shaken. "I think it's a scheme to wipe us out, destroy us," he said. "Their slogans about democracy are all lies."In al-Qaisi we see a potential wedge to pry apart the jihadists from their Sunni base, but unfortunately his possible utility is accompanied by a deep suspicion of the present process and bizarre, politically untranslatable beliefs. Al-Qaisi, at least, is expressing his desires in a political language, yet the vocabulary appears too warped for a real dialogue. Where is the political space for such a character or his kin to move or evolve? If there is to be a political solution for the problem of the Sunni insurgency, then the question needs to be addressed.