After 9/11: ten years of a war against… who?
By Frank Furedi
One virtue of war is that it often
provides society with an unusual degree of clarity about political issues. War
tempts us with an irresistibly simple choice between Them and Us, enemy and
friend, wrong and right, annihilation or survival. That kind of thinking came
very easily during the Cold War. Every schoolboy knew that They – the so-called
Evil Empire – were hellbent on destroying Us and our democratic way of life.
That was then, when it was clear who
our friends and enemies were. The remarkable thing about the post-9/11 decade
is that those old phrases about ‘them’ and ‘us’ no longer have much meaning.
How can society make sense of global conflict when governments seem to lack a
language through which to interpret it? A few weeks after the destruction of
the World Trade Center, President George W Bush asked a question that has
proved unanswerable: ‘Why do they hate us?’ One reason why the US government
has failed to answer that question is because the couplet ‘they’ and ‘us’ lacks
meaningful moral contrast today. Before you can give a satisfactory reply to
Bush’s question, you have to answer the logically prior question of who ‘they’
are, and who ‘we’ are. And after 10 years of linguistic confusion, Western
governments appear to have made no headway in resolving that quandary.
Experience shows that when the
meaning of ‘they’ and ‘us’ is self-evident, there is no need to pose morally
naive questions about the issues at stake in a conflict. Roman emperors
confronted with invading hordes of Vandals did not need to ask why they hated
Pax Romana. Neither US president Franklin D Roosevelt nor British prime
minister Winston Churchill felt it necessary to ask why the Nazis detested
their way of life. Nor was that question asked by Western leaders in relation
to the Kremlin during the Cold War. In all of those cases, the battle lines
were reasonably clear, and so were the issues and interests at stake.
Since 9/11, it has proven
increasingly difficult to grasp and characterise the interests – geopolitical
or otherwise – in a variety of global conflicts and wars. It is far from
evident what purpose is served by the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. Such
interventions frequently appear to have an arbitrary, even random quality. One
day, officials in Whitehall are dishing out PhDs to Gaddafi’s children; the
next day, NATO’s airplanes are bombing targets in Tripoli to teach Gaddafi a
lesson. These foreign adventures make little sense from a geopolitical point of
view. There is no equivalent of a Truman doctrine or even a Carter doctrine today.
Ronald Reagan was the last US president to put forward a foreign policy
doctrine that could be characterised as coherent. Although Bush’s ‘war on
terror’ was periodically flattered with the label ‘doctrine’, in truth that
so-called war was a make-it-up-as-you-go-along set of responses, detached from
any coherent expression of national interest.
The main achievement of the Western,
principally Anglo-American response to 9/11 has been to unravel the existing
balance of power in the Middle East and in the region surrounding Afghanistan.
But this demise of the old order has not been followed by the ascendancy of any
stable alternative. In such circumstances, it is difficult to claim that these
interventions have served the interests of their initiators. Moreover, the
incoherent nature of such foreign policy has, if anything, undermined domestic
support for it. These wars have little populist appeal and they do little to
bind people together. These are military conflicts detached from people’s
lives, which is why we are confronted with a very interesting situation where
there is neither enthusiasm for foreign ventures, nor war-weariness.
A war in search of a name
One of the most remarkable features
of the post-9/11 landscape is that, after 10 years of conflict, there is no
real public appetite for evaluating what has happened. Consequently, all the
fundamental questions normally posed by a war are being evaded rather than
answered. Who is winning the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan? What are the
objectives of the occupying forces? And as they begin to wind down their
activities and withdraw, what have they actually achieved? These interventions,
as well as more minor episodes such as the attack on Libya, lack any clear
political signposts. They are wars without names. They are directed at
unspecified targets and against an enemy that cannot easily be defined.
The failure of language is most
powerfully symbolised by the continuing reference to 9/11. Why rely on two
numbers to serve as the representation of a historic moment? No one refers to
the attack on Pearl Harbor on 7 December 1941 as 7/12, nor was the war against
Japan coded in such euphemistic terms. The principal reason for labelling
significant violent episodes as 9/11 or 7/7 is to avoid having to account
explicitly for these events or to give them meaning. The preference for numbers
rather than words exposes a sense of anxiety about the events, and an inability
to communicate any lessons to the public.