Marx and the Koran

These exclamations appear to be a form of encouragement, intended to vindicate and justify actions that certainly need justification. God is great, the perpetrators seem to say, because He allows, perhaps even demands, that some people—the infidels, deserving to be put to death—be dispatched. On these occasions, God, or the God of Islam, is compulsively invoked to bear witness to these acts of faith and reassure the perpetrators. The exclamation is intended to make clear and confirm—both for the perpetrators and for those witnessing their actions—that the perpetrators are carrying out divinely sanctioned retribution, rendering the act meaningful and morally justified. These violent radicals are among the men, who, in the words of Isaiah Berlin, “will kill and maim with a tranquil conscience under the influence of the words and writings of .  .  . those who are certain that they know perfection can be reached.”

The terrorists, assured that God endorses their motives and actions, are certain of their access to Him and of their understanding of His will. Given that their target selection often includes civilians—children, women, and the old—they may need extra reassurance that they are doing the right thing. They may need even stronger reassurance if they aspire to become “martyrs,” suicide bombers, to convince themselves that they are throwing away their lives for a very good cause. In doing so, they also rely on the comforting belief that they will be recipients of generous otherworldly rewards.

Western nonbelievers are likely to interpret such behavior as delusional, perceiving the devout terrorists as suffering from a serious mental illness, or victimized by a rare form of false consciousness originating in their justified grievances and low socioeconomic status. As a rule, these commentators aver that Islamic religious beliefs provide no justification or encouragement for such vile acts, that violent Islamic radicals misuse and misinterpret the teachings of their religion. If so, we need not pay attention to their assertions and explanations of their motives and behavior. We should dismiss their emphatic insistence that they are carrying out God’s will.

This approach is exemplified by John Kerry’s warning at Davos that “it would be a mistake to link Islam to criminal conduct rooted in alienation, poverty, thrill-seeking and other factors.” In the same spirit, White House press secretary Josh Earnest suggested (referring to those who committed the recent murders in Paris) that “these are individuals who carried out an act of terrorism, and they later tried to justify that act of terrorism by invoking the religion of Islam and their own deviant view of it.” New York Times columnist Thomas Friedman observed that “this makes it sound as if the Charlie Hebdo terrorists set out to commit a random act of violent extremism and only subsequently, when they realized that they needed some justification, reached for Islam.”

Also in the New York Times, bioethics lecturer Tom Koch warned against holding the terrorists responsible for their actions, emphasizing the socially determined nature of their conduct:

We are thus instructed that it is Western governments and societies that radicalized the terrorists—bred terror—by the colonialism of the past, the failure to integrate new immigrants, our refusal to allow them to voice their just grievances, and, finally, our demonization of them for no other reason than their disagreements with us. Koch did not specify what those disagreements are. Had he bothered to do so, he might have mentioned the religiously sanctioned mistreatment of women or the sharia law that justifies stoning female adulterers to death, chopping off the hands of thieves, and flogging other criminals. Matters on which we disagree would also include fatwas against the likes of novelist Salman Rushdie, targeted to be killed as punishment for blasphemy. Presumably all such disagreements should be seen as matters of cultural diversity and tolerated in a good-natured, nonjudgmental manner.

Such explanations of radicalization suggest that the perpetrators had little choice in the matter. They merely responded to stimuli they were exposed to, and their prior victimization determined their course of action. Observers like Koch have little discernible interest in the actual motivation of the terrorists, in the roots of their determination to kill, and their apparently clear conscience about what most people consider heinous crimes. It is also overlooked that blasphemy is a religious notion, and if the cartoonists were murdered for blasphemies, then the perpetrators were obviously motivated by very strongly felt religious sentiments, as they themselves made quite clear.

Such explanations of terror entail a selective determinism, a disposition I first noticed in the social criticism of the late 1960s. In this scheme, only the powerful, the top-dogs and victimizers, are capable of making choices and thus can be held responsible for their actions; the underdogs, the victims, the victimized are not in a position to make morally relevant choices as their behavior is determined by brutal social forces. Needless to say, designations of victim and victimizer can be quite subjective and variable, depending on the worldview of those who propose the classification.

Such determinism flies in the face of the obvious fact that human behavior is neither wholly determined (by social forces, particular situations, or our genetic make-up) nor wholly free (our choices limitless, our free will unblemished, our autonomy boundless). Even while constrained by the variables noted, human beings do make morally relevant choices, even the most deprived, poverty-stricken, and otherwise disadvantaged people. The vast majority of deprived people do not become violent criminals, sex offenders, drug traffickers, or suicide bombers.

A significant portion of Muslim terrorists, moreover, do not, in fact, come from impoverished, disadvantaged backgrounds. Many of the 9/11 suicide bombers, among others, were well educated, of middle-class background, with decent jobs—their grievances were less tangible. None of this is intended to suggest that (as Kerry and others argued) poverty, rootlessness, and alienation play no part in the radicalization and violent proclivities of those who become terrorists. For rage or resentment to find expression in carefully planned terrorist atrocities performed with a clear conscience and apparent satisfaction, however, it is necessary to have access to, and embrace, a set of ideas and ideals that will channel, integrate, and legitimate the violent impulses. Islamic religious beliefs are not the only ones capable of accomplishing this, but at the present time they are prominent and influential. If these beliefs have been misunderstood, misinterpreted, and their messages distorted, they evidently lent themselves to such misuse by large numbers of people, including some of the custodians and professional interpreters of Islam, the preachers who regularly address the faithful in their mosques.

The important question to ask is how, and under what circumstances, do genuine grievances combine with religious beliefs and encouragements to find expression in calculated acts of murderous violence?

The claim that Islamic religious beliefs have no connection with the violent acts carried out in their name and on their behalf is reminiscent of past disputes about the relationship between Marxist -theory and Soviet (and other Communist) practices.  

Human beings rarely commit carefully devised acts of terror or mass murder merely to pursue their material interest or express some personal frustration or find sadistic enjoyment—although all such motives might combine with other, more respectable justifications. The Nazis undertook the Holocaust because they—at any rate those who planned and organized it—were deeply convinced that it was the right thing to do in order to purify the world of Jews, whom they considered the most diabolical threat to human decency and social justice. Obedience to authority and division of labor and responsibility played a part at the lower echelons, but people like Hitler, Himmler, Eichmann, and others who inspired, designed, and ordered the mass murders were confident that this was the correct and historically justified course to follow. Their beliefs authenticated their behavior.

Likewise the decision-makers in Communist states were convinced that their idealistic goals justified morally tainted means, that building the historically most advanced social system could not be accomplished without eliminating their variously defined and designated enemies who opposed this lofty project. They did not agonize about the relationship between ends and means. Their beliefs were rooted in Marxism-Leninism and its indigenous modifications. At the same time, many Western intellectuals argued that—not unlike the young criminals of poverty-stricken slums—these leaders and policymakers had little choice given the backwardness, isolation, and other dire circumstances prevalent in their societies. In any event, they had good intentions.

Throughout the entire existence of the Soviet Union the dispute about the relationship between theory and practice, or the influence of ideology on policy, persisted. Those dismissing the part played by theory, or ideology, were intent on saving Marxism from disrepute by divorcing its propositions and spirit from Soviet policies and social-political realities. While we cannot blame Marx for the Gulag or the collectivization of agriculture, for one-party “elections” or the personality cults, the proposition that his ideas and ideals had nothing to do with Soviet (and other Communist) systems is quite implausible. Communist states intended to, and did, realize some of his ideas, but this did not lead to the anticipated outcomes. Nationalizing the means of production neither increased productivity nor created a more communitarian and equitable society; the suppression of religion did not make human beings more rational or reasonable. On the other hand, the doctrine of class struggle greatly helped legitimate political violence. Especially consequential was the belief and vision, integral to Marxism, that it was possible to create a morally, materially, and historically superior social system. It motivated the power holders and provided them with justification to purify their society of those perceived as obstacles to the realization of these lofty aspirations.

Similar considerations apply to the relationship between violence in the name of Islam and Islamic religious beliefs. While we cannot blame Muhammad for suicide bombers or specific incitements to acts of terror, the claim that Islamic religious beliefs have nothing to do with the violence they clearly help to inspire and justify is equally implausible. For one thing, the perpetrators loudly, clearly, and proudly insist on being motivated by these beliefs, and we cannot lightly dismiss their pronouncements as nothing but delusions, fantasies, aberrations, and false consciousness. The Koran, after all, like the works of Marx, is a large enough body of writing to allow people of various political or religious dispositions to find in it ideas that will, or seem to, legitimate their impulses and inclinations. Is jihad merely “a holy struggle, a legitimate tenet of Islam, meaning to purify oneself or one’s community,” as John Brennan, then antiterrorism adviser of President Obama, now director of the CIA, among others, has argued?

Or does jihad “consist of military action with the object of the expansion of Islam .  .  . stem[ming] from the .  .  . fundamental principle of the universality of Islam: this religion, along with the temporal power it implies, ought to embrace the whole universe, if necessary by force,” as stated in the Encyclopedia of Islam?

Does the profound, religiously inspired contempt for, or hatred of, “infidels” influence behavior? And if segments or fragments of the Koran conflict with its peaceful and tolerant teachings, there are plenty of imams in many mosques who emphasize the aggressive and conflict-oriented themes of the sacred text. It remains to be determined who is entitled to interpret the Koran, who are the most authoritative and influential interpreters, extremists or moderates.

In any event, Islamic radicals are able to find in their religious beliefs a point of departure for the rejection and denigration of secular Western societies, of their alleged immorality and decadence. These religious convictions give rise to a sense of moral superiority that helps justify the violent expression of the hatred of the societies they blame for their rootlessness (if living in the West) or their political and economic inferiority (if citizens of Arab nations). Hence the desire to create a “caliphate,” a large theocracy that would replace insufficiently devout Arab societies and possibly some Western ones as well.

It seems that the acts of Islamist terror and their perpetrators often inspire less moral indignation among many academic intellectuals, journalists, and policymakers than the Western socioeconomic conditions and policies that allegedly inspire these acts. The perpetrators, portrayed as rudderless, marginalized, angry young men adrift in unfriendly (Western) societies, lacking in agency, are victims of social conditions they cannot control. Such stereotypes are reminiscent of past notions of the banality of evil. The old and well-known version, created by Hannah Arendt, resulted from her attending the war crimes trial of Adolf Eichmann and led to her erroneous theory that he personified this “banality.” She perceived him as a mindless instrument of the Nazi regime, a bureaucratic “desk murderer” without beliefs or convictions of his own, obeying higher authorities. These circumstances reduced, or limited, his moral culpability and responsibility.

The stereotype of the young Islamic terrorist whose behavior is inexorably defined and determined by overwhelming social forces partakes of Arendt’s concept of the banality of evil and its implication of limited moral culpability. There is also a similarity between the (initially) favorable reception of Arendt’s concept of the banality of evil and the current receptivity to the new version personified by radical Muslims in the grip of overwhelming social forces. Both conceptions blunt moral indignation and encourage a less judgmental attitude.

Arendt’s idea was well received because it could be incorporated into critiques of Western societies. If there was nothing distinctive about Eichmann, if people like him could be found anywhere, including in Western societies, Western claims to moral or political superiority were substantially reduced. Likewise, if acts of violence by young, rootless, and alienated Muslims are understandable responses to their justified rage, resentment, and frustration, they need not inspire severe condemnation.

Attributions of moral equivalence to Islamic and Western-Christian atrocities may also enter into the assessment of these matters. President Obama’s unfortunate remark at the prayer breakfast on February 5 advising that we get off “our high horse”—that is, constrain our moral indignation about the burning of the Jordanian pilot in light of the atrocities of Christian crusaders—is a case in point.

Many of the same commentators who claim they seek to understand the terrorists and hold a less judgmental attitude toward them at the same time harbor a highly judgmental attitude toward Western societies, especially the United States. It is a disposition that tends to give the benefit of the doubt to all those who reject Western societies and helps to explain prevalent questionable interpretations of Islamic radicalism.

Paul Hollander is professor emeritus of sociology at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst, and associate of the Davis Center for Russian and Eurasian Studies at Harvard University.