Foreign policy and terrorism

Even the most fervent supporters of the Iraq war in 2003 now acknowledge its calamitous aftermath, yet pointing out the connection between foreign policy and terrorism still provokes disparagement

“It is a law of physics (still on the books when I last looked) that in nature there is no action without reaction. The same appears to be true in human nature – that is, history”. Thus wrote Gore Vidal, and I was reminded of these words after watching Nicola Sturgeon’s refreshing comments on the absence of a healthy debate on the relationship between governments’ actions abroad and terrorist attacks at home in defence of Jeremy Corbyn’s recent speech.

Variations of this analysis have been made by many, including, on rare occasions, politicians. The reasons for this reluctance can be identified quite easily; it is one of those things in politics which, although they’re not controversial in themselves, are delicate as a result of the emotions they tend to excite, and their potential to be used as a political instrument. In an argumentative environment where condemning evil and making blustering statements about unity and displays of strength are the handiest ways of winning over voters, mentioning one’s own nation’s role in this course of events would seem either brave or politically inept – at first appearance. But if it does happen, bearing in mind the care with which most politicians nowadays choose their words, the speech maker will probably have considered two key points: a) how daring a statement is it, and b) the reaction to be anticipated, and have based his decision on an assessment of these.

As regards the first point, it seems safe to say that if the candidate in question has been accused of various unpatriotic things (even if the allegations are utterly unfounded), suggesting that previous governments’ military interventions probably play a role in global terrorism regrettably makes it very easy for his opponents to deliberately misinterpret contemplation as weakness (or, rather nastily, as sympathy for the terrorists). Terrorist attacks often have the effect of an ensuing build-up of support for whoever happens to be in power, and for the latter it then suffices to make a couple of politically correct comments and to send a few soldiers on the streets to establish a perception of a firm and forceful government. Politicians naturally tend to take advantage of that fact.

If someone refrains from the predictable and instead proposes self-reflection under these circumstances, the question arises of why he chose to do this. In Corbyn’s case, my guess would be a conscious decision on his part to rely on the authority and vigour of the intelligence community’s judgement, and to use this as a means to defend himself against the inevitable attacks from the right.

The second point is as much a consideration of the first question as a more general evaluation of how emotional a response the statement is likely to trigger. This can go terribly awry, as was recently demonstrated by Theresa May’s announcement of social-care reform in the Conservative manifesto and her infelicitous handling of the subsequent backlash. Corbyn’s move, on the other hand, has so far provoked only the predictable, deliberate misrepresentations of his announcements by the government, but I have not come across any cogent criticism on a more substantiated level. It remains to be seen in what way Corbyn’s stance on the issue will affect his party in the upcoming general election, but on a different note it is surely a compliment to the electorate’s expected rationality.

Back to our law of physics. The issues surrounding terrorism and foreign policy are, of course, hugely complicated; yet a long list of examples, new and old, makes it difficult to ignore the obvious connection between the two. Needless to say, the guilt for any atrocity lies with its perpetrator alone, but the argument which advocates of a wiser foreign policy put forward is not about the assignment of culpability but this: the motivations that cause individuals to carry out such acts can be both explained and tackled. It is therefore the responsibility of policy-makers to do this and remove (or at least correct) the circumstances under which such morbid ideas develop.

In order to understand the relationship between government policies abroad and the spread of terrorist acts, one can learn a great deal by taking into consideration the historical and political background in which violent propensities grow. This principle is valid for most, if not all, forms of terrorism, but in view of Corbyn’s speech let us limit our attention to the type of extremism that has tormented both the West and the Islamic world in recent times.

There are a number of countries from which suicide bombers and similar perpetrators have launched their attacks. The list is, of course, nowhere near complete, but, for the sake of simplicity, let’s just look at a few: Libya, Syria, Iraq, Afghanistan and Pakistan. What all these countries, with the exception of Pakistan, have in common is that they have all been subject to various forms of foreign military interventions, and even Pakistan’s terrorist problem can be explained in terms of tribal and ethnic links to its war-torn neighbour. The other common thread is a policy which favoured regime change with few thoughts spared for the power vacuum that will necessarily be formed.

In Libya in 2011, popular uprisings throughout the Arab world emboldened Western powers to bomb the country in order to get rid of an unloved dictator, and whilst that aim was achieved and enthusiasm for the new government was cultivated, a direct result of this was a massive strengthening of various disagreeable groups, chiefly ISIS. The same is true for Iraq, a case for which enough time has now passed for even large sections of its initial supporters to see that the invasion has created more problems than it has solved. I will leave to your imagination what would unavoidably have happened in Syria had the West’s preference for al-Qaeda-style insurgent groups over Assad been fruitful. Afghanistan, a country in which women’s suffrage pre-dates that in the US, has been so thoroughly permeated with war that resort to promises of salvation by mass murder seems unlikely to ever cease, and the further spillover of radicalisation to neighbouring countries appears very likely indeed.

In any country whose recent history has been dominated by war and desolation, it is a logical consequence that its most objectionable elements gain traction; every society has a potential for fanaticism and radicalisation, but in an atmosphere of death, hopelessness and misery it is easy for said elements to lure people into their camp, and convince them to carry out acts they would be less likely to commit in normal circumstances. We only have to consider our own reactions if we were subjected to the same atrocities: our rational side would probably succumb to anger, and some of us would go out and do things that are unimaginable in our current comfort and domestic peace. From this point of view, no particular religion is responsible for this as such – but certain circumstances will bring out the worst elements in any faith.

It is most regrettable that political opportunism means that suggesting a sensible approach to dealing with terrorism, guided by reason and directed by experts in their respective fields, is still met with hostility. Acknowledging the distressing reality inescapably leads to realising the sheer logic of the idea that in order to decrease fanaticism, refraining from non-defensive wars and limiting, or, where feasible, ending support for oppressive regimes in the Middle East and elsewhere will dramatically weaken extremist elements, and as a result diminish violent reactions to brutal actions.