Refusal to Call Charleston Shootings ''Terrorism'' Again Shows It's a Meaningless Propaganda Term
19 June 2015
By Glenn Greenwald
In February 2010, a man named Joseph Stack deliberately flew his small airplane
into the side of a building that housed a regional IRS office in Austin, Texas,
just as 200 agency employees were starting their workday. Along with himself,
Stack killed an IRS manager and injured 13 others.
Stack was an anti-tax, anti-government fanatic, and chose his target for
exclusively political reasons. He left behind a lengthy manifesto cogently
setting forth his largely libertarian political views (along with, as I wrote at
the time, some anti-capitalist grievances shared by the left, such as ''rage over
bailouts, the suffering of America's poor, and the pilfering of the middle class
by a corrupt economic elite and their government-servants''; Stack's long note
ended: ''the communist creed: From each according to his ability, to each
according to his need. The capitalist creed: From each according to his
gullibility, to each according to his greed''). About Stack's political
grievances, his manifesto declared that ''violence not only is the answer, it is
the only answer.''
The attack had all of the elements of iconic terrorism, a model for how it's
most commonly understood: down to flying a plane into the side of a building.
But Stack was white and non-Muslim. As a result, not only was the word
''terrorism'' not applied to Stack, but it was explicitly declared inapplicable by
media outlets and government officials alike.
The New York Times's report on the incident stated that while the attack
''initially inspired fears of a terrorist attack'' — before the identity of the
pilot was known — now ''in place of the typical portrait of a terrorist driven by
ideology, Mr. Stack was described as generally easygoing, a talented amateur
musician with marital troubles and a maddening grudge against the tax
authorities.''
As a result, said the Paper of Record, ''officials ruled out any connection to
terrorist groups or causes.'' And ''federal officials emphasized the same message,
describing the case as a criminal inquiry.'' Even when U.S. Muslim groups called
for the incident to be declared ''terrorism,'' the FBI continued to insist it ''was
handling the case 'as a criminal matter of an assault on a federal officer' and
that it was not being considered as an act of terror.''
By very stark contrast, consider the October 2014, shooting in Ottawa by a
single individual, Michael Zehaf-Bibeau, at the Canadian Parliament building. As
soon as it was known that the shooter was a convert to Islam, the incident was
instantly and universally declared to be ''terrorism.'' Less than 24 hours
afterward, Prime Minister Stephen Harper declared it a terror attack and even
demanded new ''counter-terrorism'' powers in its name (which he has now obtained).
To bolster the label, the government claimed Zehaf-Bibeau was on his way to
Syria to fight with jihadists, and the media trumpeted this ''fact.''
In his address to the nation the day after the shooting, Harper vowed to learn
more about the ''terrorist and any accomplices he may have had'' and intoned:
''This is a grim reminder that Canada is not immune to the types of terrorist
attacks we have seen elsewhere around the world.'' Twitter users around the world
en masse used the hashtag of solidarity reserved (for some reason) only for
cities attacked by a Muslim (but not cities attacked by their own governments):
#OttawaStrong. In sum, that this was a ''terror attack'' was mandated conventional
wisdom before anything was known other than the Muslim identity of the
perpetrator.
As it turns out, other than the fact that the perpetrator was Muslim and was
aiming his violence at Westerners, almost nothing about this attack had the
classic hallmarks of ''terrorism.'' In the days and weeks that followed, it became
clear that Zehaf-Bibeau suffered from serious mental illness and ''seemed to have
become mentally unstable.'' He had a history of arrests for petty offenses and
had received psychiatric treatment. His friends recall him expressing no real
political views but instead claiming he was possessed by the devil.
The Canadian government was ultimately forced to admit that their prior media
claim about him preparing to go to Syria was totally false, dismissing it as ''a
mistake.'' Now that Canadians know the truth about him — rather than the mere
fact that he's Muslim and committed violence — a plurality no longer believe the
''terrorist'' label applies, but believe the attack was motivated by mental
illness. The term ''terrorist'' got instantly applied by know-nothings for one
reason: he was Muslim and had committed violence, and that, in the post-9/11
West, is more or less the only working definition of the term (in the rare cases
when it is applied to non-Muslims these days, it's typically applied to
minorities engaged in acts that have no resemblance to what people usually think
of when they hear the term).
That is the crucial backdrop for yesterday's debate over whether the term
''terrorism'' applies to the heinous shooting by a white nationalist of nine
African-Americans praying in a predominantly black church in Charleston, South
Carolina. Almost immediately, news reports indicated there was ''no sign of
terrorism'' — by which they meant: it does not appear that the shooter is Muslim.
Yet other than the perpetrator's non-Muslim identity, the Charleston attack from
the start had the indicia of what is commonly understood to be ''terrorism.''
Specifically, the suspected shooter was clearly a vehement racist who told
witnesses at the church that he was acting out of racial hatred and a desire to
force African-Americans ''to go.'' His violence was the byproduct of and was
intended to publicize and forward his warped political agenda, and was clearly
designed to terrorize the community he hates.
That's why so many African-American and Muslim commentators and activists
insisted that the term ''terrorist'' be applied: because it looked, felt and
smelled exactly like other acts that are instantly branded ''terrorism'' when the
perpetrator is Muslim and the victims largely white. It was very hard — and
still is — to escape the conclusion that the term ''terrorism,'' at least as it's
predominantly used in the post-9/11 West, is about the identity of those
committing the violence and the identity of the targets. It manifestly has
nothing to do with some neutral, objective assessment of the acts being
labelled.
The point here is not, as some very confused commentators suggested, to seek an
expansion of the term ''terrorism'' beyond its current application. As someone who
has spent the last decade more or less exclusively devoted to documenting the
abuses and manipulations that term enables, the last thing I want is an
expansion of its application.
But what I also don't want is for non-Muslims to rest in their privileged nest,
satisfied that the term and its accompanying abuses is only for that
marginalized group. And what I especially don't want is to have this glaring,
damaging mythology persist that the term ''terrorism'' is some sort of objectively
discernible, consistently applied designation of a particularly hideous kind of
violence. I'm eager to have the term recognized for what it is: a completely
malleable, manipulated, vapid term of propaganda that has no consistent
application whatsoever. Recognition of that reality is vital to draining the
term of its potency.
The examples proving the utter malleability of the term ''terrorism'' are far too
numerous to chronicle here. But over the past decade alone, it's been used by
Western political and media figures to condemn Muslims who used violence against
an invading and occupying force in Afghanistan, against others who raised funds
to help Iraqis fight against an invading and occupying military in their
country, and for others who attack soldiers in an army that is fighting many
wars. In other words, any violence by Muslims against the West is inherently
''terrorism,'' even if targeted only at soldiers at war and/or designed to resist
invasion and occupation.
By stark contrast, no violence by the West against Muslims can possibly be
''terrorism,'' no matter how brutal, inhumane or indiscriminately
civilian-killing. The U.S. can call its invasion of Baghdad ''Shock and Awe'' as a
classic declaration of terrorism intent, or fly killer drones permanently over
terrorized villages and cities, or engage in generation-lasting atrocities in
Fallujah, or arm and fund Israeli and Saudi destruction of helpless civilian
populations, and none of that, of course, can possibly be called ''terrorism.'' It
just has the wrong perpetrators and the wrong victims.
Then there is all the game-playing the U.S. does with the term right out in the
open. Nelson Mandela, now widely regarded as a moral hero, was officially a
''terrorist'' in U.S. eyes for decades (and the CIA thus helped its allied
apartheid regime capture him). Iraq was on the terrorist list and then off it
and then on it based on whatever designation best suited U.S. interests at the
moment. The Iranian cult MEK was long decreed a ''terror group'' until they paid
enough influential people in Washington to get off the list, coinciding with the
U.S. desire to punish Tehran. The Reagan administration armed and funded classic
terror groups in Latin America while demanding sanctions on the Soviets and
Iranians for being state sponsors of terrorism. Whatever this is, it is not the
work of a term that has a consistent, objective meaning.
Ample scholarship proves that the term ''terrorism'' is empty, definition-free and
invariably manipulated. Harvard's Lisa Stampnitzky has documented ''the inability
of researchers to establish a suitable definition of the concept of 'terrorism'
itself.'' The concept of ''terrorism'' is fundamentally plagued by ideological
agendas and self-interested manipulation, as Professor Richard Jackson at the
the National Centre for Peace and Conflict Studies in New Zealand has explained:
''most of what is accepted as well-founded 'knowledge' in terrorism studies is,
in fact, highly debatable and unstable'' and is ''biased towards Western state
priorities.'' Remi Brulin is a scholar who specializes in the discourse of
''terrorism'' and has long documented that, from the start, it was a highly
manipulated term of propaganda more than it was a term of fixed meaning —
largely intended to justify violence by the West and Israel while delegitimizing
the violence of its enemies.
What is most amazing about all of this is that ''terrorism'' — a term that is so
easily and frequently manipulated and devoid of fixed meaning — has now become
central to our political culture and legal framework, a staple of how we are
taught to think about the world. It is constantly invoked, as though it is some
sort of term of scientific precision, to justify an endless array of radical
policies and powers. Everything from the attack on Iraq to torture to endless
drone killings to mass surveillance and beyond are justified in its name.
In fact, it is, as I have often argued, a term that justifies everything yet
means nothing. Perhaps the only way people will start to see that, or at least
be bothered by it, is if it becomes clear that not just marginalized minority
groups but also their own group can be swept up by its elasticity and
meaninglessness. There is ample resistance to that, which is why repulsive
violence committed by white non-Muslims such as yesterday's church massacre is
so rarely described by the term. But that's all the more reason to insist on
something resembling fair and consistent application.
Glenn Greenwald writes for Intercept
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