http://cup.columbia.edu/book/978-0-231-14152-9/on-suicide-bombing/excerpt

On Suicide Bombing

Talal Asad


Like most New Yorkers who were in the city on September 11, 2001, I
encountered the events of that day largely through the media, through the
pall of smoke that hung over the south of the island, and through the
emotion infusing the conversation and demeanor of ordinary Americans. For
many Muslims living in the United States, September 11 was the beginning of
a long period of anxiety, during which they found themselves associated,
occasionally explicitly but more often implicitly, with terrorism. For many
non-Muslims in the United States, Western Europe, and Israel, the suicide
bomber quickly became the icon of an Islamic "culture of death. This led me
to try to think in a sustained way about the contemporary mode of violence
that is described by much of the Western media as "Islamic terrorism." Is
there, I asked myself, a religiously motivated terrorism? If so, how does it
differ from other cruelties? What makes its motivation—as opposed to the
simple intent to kill—religious? Where does it stand in relation to other
forms of collective violence? How is the image of the suicide bomber,
bringing death to himself and others, addressed by Christians and
post-Christians? My questions, I stress, arose not primarily from ethical
concerns but from a curiosity about conceptual and material connections.
Thinking about suicide bombing, in its banality and its horror, was for me a
way of opening up some modern assumptions about dying and killing. The
general thought I have pursued is that however much we try to distinguish
between morally good and morally evil ways of killing, our attempts are
beset with contradictions, and these contradictions remain a fragile part of
our modern subjectivity.

My focus on the United States and Israel in this book is deliberate. There
is terrorism in other places, of course: Sri Lanka, India, Indonesia,
Russia, to name only a few countries. And the United States has long had its
homegrown, institutionalized terror, although this is not what people today
remember when they refer to terrorism. Nevertheless, the idea of a war on
terror is uniquely developed and expressed in a particular place—the United
States—and most of the theorization about terrorism (and about just war)
occurs there, as well as in Europe and Israel. I am not interested in
providing a representative—let alone a comprehensive—survey of terrorism as
a unique phenomenon of our time. Put simply, I argue that the creation of
terror and the perpetration of atrocities are aspects of militant action in
the unequal world we inhabit, of our notions of what is cruel and what is
necessary, and of the emotions with which we justify or condemn particular
acts of death dealing.

The book itself has a simple structure. In the first chapter, I begin by
examining the "clash of civilizations" thesis that purports to explain
contemporary Islamic jihadism as the essence of contemporary terrorism, and
I argue against the kind of history that assumes self-contained
civilizations having fixed values. I then discuss the attempt by a
distinguished philosopher to differentiate just war from terrorism, and I
speculate on the reasons for the prominence of a public discourse on terror.
Terrorism, I point out, is an epistemological object in modern society,
something that calls for theorization (what is terrorism?) as well as for
practical information gathering (how can one forestall this danger?). These
two tasks are dependent on each other. Terrorism, however, is more than the
object of these tasks. It is also an integral part of liberal subjectivities
(the urge to defeat political terror, the fear of social vulnerability, the
horror and fascination with death and destruction), although terror itself
is dismissed as being essentially part of a nonmodern, nonliberal culture.
In the second chapter, I look critically at a range of current explanations
of suicide terrorism that are now being put forward, and I question the
preoccupation by writers on the subject with attributing distinctive motives
(as opposed to the manifest intention to kill) to perpetrators of suicide
bombing. I say that motives in general are more complicated than is
popularly supposed and that the assumption that they are truths to be
accessed is mistaken: the motives of suicide bombers in particular are
inevitably fictions that justify our responses but that we cannot verify. I
then move away from writers attempting to explain the phenomenon of suicide
bombings who address larger questions of killing and dying in relation to
politics. Drawing on the history of ideas, I emphasize that although liberal
thought separates the idea of violence from the idea of politics, mortal
violence is integral to liberalism as a political formation. More
significantly, I suggest that legitimate violence exercised in and by the
modern progressive state—including the liberal democratic state—possesses a
peculiar character that is absent in terrorist violence (absent not because
of the latter's virtue but because of the former's capability): a
combination of cruelty and compassion that sophisticated social institutions
enable and encourage. In the third and last chapter, I explore the idea of
horror as a common reaction to suicide and especially to suicide bombing. On
the one hand, I turn to anthropological writing to elaborate the notion that
horror has to do with the collapse of social and personal identity and thus
with the dissolution of form. On the other hand, I draw on some aspects of
Christian theology: the crucifixion is the most famous suicide in history,
whose horror is transmuted into the project of redeeming universal
humanity—again, through a combination of cruelty and compassion. This is the
most speculative part of the book, but it is essential to the layered
account I finally offer of what horror at suicide bombing consists in.

A brief warning against a possible misreading of this book: I do not plead
that terrorist atrocities may sometimes be morally justified. I am simply
impressed by the fact that modern states are able to destroy and disrupt
life more easily and on a much grander scale than ever before and that
terrorists cannot reach this capability. I am also struck by the ingenuity
with which so many politicians, public intellectuals, and journalists
provide moral justifications for killing and demeaning other human beings.
What seems to matter is not the killing and dehumanization as such but how
one kills and with what motive. People at all times have, of course,
justified the killing of so-called enemies and others they deem not
deserving to live. The only difference is that today liberals who engage in
this justification think they are different because morally advanced. That
very thought has social implications, and it is therefore that thought that
makes a real difference. Liberal thought begins from the notion that
everyone has the absolute right to defend himself, in the full knowledge
that the idea of defense is subject to considerable interpretation, so that
(for example) liberation from the oppressor in Iraq becomes part of defense
for both the American occupier and the insurgency. Many liberals also
believe that people have a moral obligation to attack evil, either in order
to redeem themselves or to redeem others who cannot do so for themselves.
The notion of evil is not conceived of as a principle essential to the
world—as in Manichaean and Zoroastrian teaching—but as a dynamic principle
that opposes divine will and is therefore eliminable. Consequently, it is
resistance to that will that defines evil, and all virtuous men are urged to
overcome it at any cost. (According to Christian belief, Christ triumphed
over evil, God reconciled the world to himself, by the crucifixion.)4
Fighting evil is, of course, an old justification, but it often finds new
formulations today. I do not mean by this that today's modern world is, as
many hold, simply an unfolding of Christianity. In my view there are
continuities and also crucial ruptures between secular modernity and its
past.

Finally, this book does not pretend to offer solutions to moral dilemmas
about institutionalized violence. It makes no case for accepting some kinds
of cruelty as opposed to others. Its hope, rather, is to disturb the reader
sufficiently that he or she will be able to take a distance from the
complacent public discourse that prepackages moral responses to terrorism,
war, and suicide bombing.
Related Subjects

   - Anthropology <http://cup.columbia.edu/subject/101>
   - Comparative Religion <http://cup.columbia.edu/subject/65>
   - Security Studies <http://cup.columbia.edu/subject/122>


Series

   - Wellek Library Lectures <http://cup.columbia.edu/series/155>


About the Author

Talal Asad is a professor of anthropology at the Graduate Center of the City
University of New York and the author of *Formations of the Secular*
and *Genealogies
of Religion*.

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