James L. Gelvin

Al-Qaeda and Anarchism: A Historian's Reply to Terrorology

This article situates al-Qaeda and similar jihadi movements within the category of anarchism. In so doing, it challenges the central pillar of the terrorology paradigm: the notion that terrorism is useful as an independent unit of analysis. The article takes a two-fold approach; in the first part, it offers a five-part definition of anarchism, based on the literature in the fields of history, political science, and sociology. Anarchism is distinguished by five characteristics: First, anarchism is an episodic discourse which provides its adherents with a prescription for action and which has been consistently available to, but only sometimes adopted by, political actors in the modern world. Second, anarchism makes for itself the claim of being defensive in nature. Third, anarchism is anti-systemic; i.e., the target of anarchist grievances is the very system (the nation-state system, capitalism) anarchists view as the source of oppression. Fourth, by “othering” the source of oppression, anarchists delineate, either implicitly or explicitly, an ideal counter-community. Finally, unlike the disarticulated domain of, for example, scientific socialism, the discursive field of anarchism draws heavily from the specific cultural milieu from which it springs. The second part of the article examines al-Qaeda and similar movements in terms of these five characteristics, contrasts al-Qaeda with other organizations (Hamas, Hizbullah) which have often been conflated with al-Qaeda under the terrorist rubric, and argues that, based on those characteristics, al-Qaeda does not represent a new or sui generis phenomenon, but rather fits squarely into the anarchist mold.

Al-Qaeda and Anarchism: A Historian's Reply to Terrorology: Response to Commentaries

I would like to thank the editors of Terrorism and Political Violence for opening up the pages of their journal for this exchange, particularly because it enables me to engage with those I would not normally have an opportunity to engage with and to reach an audience I rarely get a chance to reach. I would particularly like to thank David C. Rapoport for his interest in and continued support for this project, despite the many differences that separate our analytical approaches. I shall direct my remarks primarily to three of the four respondents. While I value the scholarship and observations of the fourth—John Kelsay—he and I agree on just about everything, with one reservation on his part. I have little to add to his comments, and shall speak to his reservation in the course of my remarks below. George Esenwein and Richard Bach Jensen raise many of the same issues, so I shall address their concerns together. Both, it seems, have made the study of specific aspects of nineteenth-century anarchism their life’s work, so I am not surprised that both treat my outsider’s view of anarchism with skepticism. Fair enough. But sometimes an outsider’s view can be refreshing, particularly since, when it comes to presenting the story of those you study to a wider public, it is a well-known tendency for scholars to switch from being judges to being advocates. In a review of an earlier version of this article, for example, Walter Laqueur differentiates nineteenth-century anarchists from al-Qaedists on the basis of the fact that the former purportedly held to some ‘‘code of honor’’—this, in spite of the acts of violence recounted by both Esenwein and Jensen in their responses against people most of us would consider ‘‘innocents.’’ So, to set the record straight and allay the fears of those who would uphold the reputation of anarchists past: I agree that al-Qaedists are a nasty, violent bunch; I also agree that only some—not all—nineteenth-century European anarchists were nasty and violent. But just as one cannot understand nineteenth-century anarchism merely by looking at acts of violence perpetrated by (some of) its adherents, one cannot understand al-Qaeda either merely by looking at acts of violence perpetrated by its adherents. The purpose of my article is to make sense of al-Qaeda—to typologize it—by locating it within one or another category familiar to social scientists. The location I found most appropriate is anarchism. Let us start off with the problem of defining anarchism—a problem Esenwein says is not really a problem at all. Esenwein states that anarchism has a clear

Zionism and Palestinian Nationalism: A Closer Look

We are about to enter the world of the Arab-Israeli dispute, the world of “Black September,” Henry Kissinger, the “Year of Decision,” the “Decade of Decision,” the “Rejectionist Front,” three Arab-Israeli wars (1956, 1967, 1973), the Israeli invasion of Lebanon, massacres at Sabra and Shatila, the Johnston Plan, the Rogers Plan, the Rogers Initiative, the First Geneva Conference, the Second Geneva Conference, the 1978 Framework for Peace in the Middle East, the Schultz Plan, the Reagan Plan, and the Madrid Conference. We might therefore be forgiven if we pause before we dive into this rather depressing phase of the conflict and take one more look at the nationalisms that lie at the conflicts core. When I say “nationalisms that lie at the conflicts core,” I mean, of course, Zionism and Palestinian nationalism. Defining the conflict in these terms, however, is a bit of an oversimplification. As we have seen, neither nationalism is monolithic. In the case of Zionism, I have described Labor Zionism, Revisionism, and Religious Zionism. In the case of Palestinian nationalism, I have described it as it was conceived by societys elites and as it was conceived by its nonelites. Even these breakdowns are oversimplifications, since not all Revisionists are the same, nor do all nonelite Palestinians hold to the same agenda. Although every nationalism attempts to present itself to the world as a monolithic bloc, beneath its indivisible exterior lurk class, gender, geographic, generational, and ideological cleavages. This fact alone is enough to raise a number of questions. How do nationalisms draw their doctrinal boundaries? How does one strain of a nationalism achieve dominance over others? What happens to those other strains when this occurs? How do the symbols chosen by nationalist movements to represent themselves restrict the meaning of the nationalisms they advocate?

From the Great Revolt through the 1948 War

The Palestinians and the Zionists were not the only ones to draw lessons from the Great Revolt. The British did as well. The Great Revolt was the first in a series of events that eventually led to the British withdrawal from Palestine. While the British had taken the mandate for Palestine for a number of reasons, high on the list was their belief that control over the area would enhance imperial defense. Ongoing turmoil in Palestine disabused them of this view. Thus, the British ultimately reached the conclusion that, when it came to Palestine, the game was not worth the candle. In addition to the military response described in the previous chapter, the British attempted to find a political solution to their Palestine problem. Two such attempts are particularly significant. In 1937, during a lull in the fighting, the British government appointed a Royal Commission under the direction of Earl Peel, the secretary of state for India. The report of the commission was a shock to everyone involved, including the British government. According to the Royal Commission, the mandate had been premised on the idea that the Palestinian population would acquiesce to the Balfour Declaration once it came to realize the material benefits of Zionist immigration. Instead of welcoming the “civilizing mission” of the Zionists, however, the indigenous population of Palestine resisted Zionist settlement, and the rift between the two communities grew: The estranging force of conditions inside Palestine is growing year by year. The educational systems, Arab and Jewish, are schools of nationalism, and they have only existed for a short time. Their full effect on the rising generation has yet to be felt. And patriotic “youth-movements,” so familiar a feature of present-day politics in other countries of Europe or Asia, are afoot in Palestine. As each community grows, moreover, the rivalry between them deepens. The more numerous and prosperous and better-educated the Arabs become, the more insistent will be their demand for national independence and the more bitter their hatred of the obstacle that bars the way to it. As the Jewish National Home grows older and more firmly rooted, so will grow its self-confidence and political ambition.

World War I and the Palestine Mandate

On 28 June 1914, the heir to the Austrian throne, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, was shot by a Serbian nationalist while visiting the city of Sarajevo. With the backing of its ally, Germany, Austria presented an ultimatum to Serbia. The Austrians demanded that the Serbs rein in the nationalist and anti-Austrian movements hatching plots in their territory. When the Serbs responded with a reply the Austrians deemed unsatisfactory, Austria declared war. While Germany was allied with Austria, Russia was allied with Serbia. The Russians feared that they would be at a disadvantage if war broke out and Germany had completed its military preparations before them. The Russian tsar thus ordered a general mobilization. Germany also mobilized and, to avoid fighting Russia and France at the same time, decided to launch a knockout blow against France by striking west through Belgium. Because Britain was committed by treaty to Belgian independence, it declared war on Germany. World War I had started. When we think of World War I, we generally think of trench warfare on the western front in France. It is important to understand, however, that World War I was truly a world war. As a matter of fact, although the British and French referred to the war as the “Great War” until World War II, the Germans coined the phrase “world war” early on to describe the conflict. German strategists understood that the war was being waged among rival empires with worldwide interests. These empires depended on their colonial possessions to maintain their strategic position and economic well-being. Colonies were also indispensable for the French and British military effort, since both powers depended on them for manpower to replenish the depleted ranks of their armies.

T. E. Lawrence and Historical Representation

Contemporary American academic historians, such as myself, face a predicament that is partly of our own making. On the one hand, we bemoan the historical illiteracy of our students and the fact that what we do just does not seem to hold a great deal of interest for—or appear particularly relevant to the lives of—the public at large. On the other hand, all too many of us treat the very historical personalities and events that fascinate that public—the assassination of John F. Kennedy, the sinking of the Titanic, the identity of Jack the Ripper, the guilt or innocence of Lizzie Borden, and so on—with unconcealed scorn. At best, interest in these personalities and events is tolerated among our fellow professionals as guilty pleasures of a personal nature, seductive sideshows for slumming historians who might just as readily harbor a secret passion for Danielle Steel novels or television sitcoms. Or these personalities and events might be trotted out to perform the role of literary device, to be indulged because of their potential to whet a prospective audience’s appetite for “real history.” More often than not, however, when it comes to writing the dissertations and monographs that are the meat and potatoes of the contemporary historical profession, these personalities and events are, at present, only cursorily referenced—if, indeed, they are referenced at all.