Dear Editor,
In their recent article, “Social Network Analysis in the Study of Terrorism and Political Violence,” Professors Perliger and Pedahzur do a disservice to political science, especially the literature on terrorism. They write that work prior to the “past decade” (read: before September 11, 2001) was conducted by a “small number of political scientists and sociologists and employed mainly descriptive and qualitative studies that resulted in limited theoretical progress” (45). This is perhaps true, but only insofar as “theoretical progress” is the entire goal of studying terrorism.
If the goal includes instead the formation of a coherent and effective set of policy solutions to deal with terrorism, then we can say those scholars were remarkably successful. They solved the problem—or at least, they assembled a solid consensus as to the best, most appropriate, most effective responses to the problem of terrorism. This strikes me as quite an accomplishment, especially given our discipline's desire for real-world relevance, and deserves more recognition than it has received.
This consensus is succinctly described in Wilkinson's Terrorism Versus Democracy—published in 2001 (Frank Cass, London), but written in 2000—in which Wilkinson outlines “The Hardline Approach To Combating Terrorism” (94–95). His very first element is that “overreaction … should be avoided.”
Third on his list: “The government and the security forces must at all times act within the law. If they fail to do this they will undermine their democratic legitimacy and public confidence in, and respect for, the police and the criminal justice system.”
Fifth: “The secret intelligence agencies and all the other institutions involved in combating terrorism must be firmly under the control of the elected government and fully accountable to it.”
Sixth: “If emergency laws are found to be needed in a particularly serious terrorist conflict the laws must be temporary, subject to frequent review by parliament, and subject to parliament's approval before any renewal.”
And so on; remember, this is the hardline approach. Readers should decide for themselves the extent to which Wilkinson's outline anticipates the failings of the Bush administration's response to the attacks of September 11, 2001.
Whatever those failings, they are almost certainly due to the administration's insistence on viewing the attacks of September 11 as acts of war—rather than as crimes, or crimes against humanity. In making this decision, the administration abandoned decades' worth of scholarship on the problems of terrorism, most of which points to a response based in criminal justice. This decision may well have been informed by a belief that such methods were not valid against al-Qaeda and ilk, but that belief was not proven by scholarship or praxis.
To the extent that pre-9/11 scholarship represents “limited theoretical progress,” it is only so when seen through the post-9/11 decision to reframe terrorism as a military problem. And though Wilkinson allows the military may play a role in responding to terrorism, he is clear that this role is modest: “In an operative liberal democratic state the framework for tackling terrorist crimes of violence is the criminal justice model” (125, emphasis original). For example, it is a stark irony of their critique that Perliger and Pedahzur cite Alex Schmid's work as evidence of the discipline's lack of progress. If the Bush administration could have read only one book about terrorism, I would have given them Schmid's book (with Janny de Graaf), Violence as Communication (Sage, 1982). In the book, Schmid and de Graaf develop a model of terrorism: “In the triangle Terrorist-Victim-Target, the victim, who is usually but not always associated in some way with the target, serves as instrument to communicate a message to the target which is meant to traumatize, demoralize, or otherwise influence him” (9). One of the crucial mistakes of the U.S. response to 9/11 has been the failure to recognize the target (i.e. audience) of al-Qaeda's attacks. The administration's decision to war focused on the American public, for whom they put on an exceptionally expensive, dangerous production. The actual audience—as indicated by Bin Laden and associates' interminable commentary on the subject—was the Muslim world, especially its Arabic-speaking branches. Before and after 2001, Bin Laden frequently addressed himself to “every Muslim who believes in God and wishes to be rewarded to comply with God's order to kill the Americans” and so on, and after 2001 he only rarely spoke directly to the American people. Meanwhile the work that the Bush administration did ostensibly for the benefit of the American public was only detrimental in the eyes of a great many Muslims in the world.
Moreover, the explicit, oft-stated goal of al-Qaeda was to start a war between the U.S. and the Muslim world; in fact, the 9/11 Commission Report (2004, Norton) tells us that Bin Laden even “complained frequently” that al-Qaeda's attack on the U.S.S. Cole was not sufficient provocation for the U.S. to attack him. Given our response to 9/11, this may be the first terrorist campaign in history to so fully realize its ambitions. (Incidentally, ninth and last on Wilkinson's list: “governments should avoid granting major concessions to terrorists,” in which “concessions” would presumably include complete assent to their goals.) Everything policymakers needed to appreciate the communicative aspects of terrorist violence—the theories, the policies, the information—was available in the literature and public record well before September 11, 2001; yet none of it has been brought to bear, because of the deliberate ignorance embedded in the decision to treat the attacks as war.
We can say at least this for the U.S. response: those of us who study terrorism will never again want for data. And Perliger and Pedahzur's article is indeed a helpful contribution to the literature; I am convinced that social network analysis is useful to understanding the interior workings of terrorist groups, and that this may have policy implications. Yet I seriously doubt SNA will challenge our basic understanding of correct and effective counter-terrorism policy. To the extent that our understanding is presently inadequate, it is only because policymakers dislike it. Further work that does not build on the significant, useful, compelling literature on terrorism—especially work that is dismissive of this literature—risks at least being seen as subordinate to the interests of those policymakers. It also risks irrelevance; the next time something terrible happens, we may again see an administration that ignores academia. Will our discipline ever be able to stand by its work?
My point is not to single out Perliger and Pedahzur; there have been more egregious claims against the literature. I know, as well, that convention requires us to denigrate prior research in order to make our own seem fresh and relevant. That said, given the gravity of this topic, it may be worth suspending this practice for a time. At least we might agree to avoid implying social and political scientists only discovered terrorism on September 11. This is clearly not true, and elides the fact that a significant portion of our work in response to September 11—especially immediately after—lacks the rigor and intellectual integrity of the prior literature.
I do not think we—political and social scientists—know all there is to know about terrorism. We do, however, have a solid understanding of counterterrorism policy. We should seek to affirm and build on that knowledge, rather than replace it, and perhaps take some pride that even with “mainly descriptive and qualitative methods” and “limited theoretical progress,” our discipline has produced a compelling solution to a serious problem. Whether or not the patient takes the medicine is a different problem, and perhaps itself deserves study, but should not diminish or demean our work thus far.
Sincerely,
Miles Townes
Ph.D. Student, George Washington University
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Dear Editor,
In their recent article, “Social Network Analysis in the Study of Terrorism and Political Violence,” Professors Perliger and Pedahzur do a disservice to political science, especially the literature on terrorism. They write that work prior to the “past decade” (read: before September 11, 2001) was conducted by a “small number of political scientists and sociologists and employed mainly descriptive and qualitative studies that resulted in limited theoretical progress” (45). This is perhaps true, but only insofar as “theoretical progress” is the entire goal of studying terrorism.
If the goal includes instead the formation of a coherent and effective set of policy solutions to deal with terrorism, then we can say those scholars were remarkably successful. They solved the problem—or at least, they assembled a solid consensus as to the best, most appropriate, most effective responses to the problem of terrorism. This strikes me as quite an accomplishment, especially given our discipline's desire for real-world relevance, and deserves more recognition than it has received.
This consensus is succinctly described in Wilkinson's Terrorism Versus Democracy—published in 2001 (Frank Cass, London), but written in 2000—in which Wilkinson outlines “The Hardline Approach To Combating Terrorism” (94–95). His very first element is that “overreaction … should be avoided.”
Third on his list: “The government and the security forces must at all times act within the law. If they fail to do this they will undermine their democratic legitimacy and public confidence in, and respect for, the police and the criminal justice system.”
Fifth: “The secret intelligence agencies and all the other institutions involved in combating terrorism must be firmly under the control of the elected government and fully accountable to it.”
Sixth: “If emergency laws are found to be needed in a particularly serious terrorist conflict the laws must be temporary, subject to frequent review by parliament, and subject to parliament's approval before any renewal.”
And so on; remember, this is the hardline approach. Readers should decide for themselves the extent to which Wilkinson's outline anticipates the failings of the Bush administration's response to the attacks of September 11, 2001.
Whatever those failings, they are almost certainly due to the administration's insistence on viewing the attacks of September 11 as acts of war—rather than as crimes, or crimes against humanity. In making this decision, the administration abandoned decades' worth of scholarship on the problems of terrorism, most of which points to a response based in criminal justice. This decision may well have been informed by a belief that such methods were not valid against al-Qaeda and ilk, but that belief was not proven by scholarship or praxis.
To the extent that pre-9/11 scholarship represents “limited theoretical progress,” it is only so when seen through the post-9/11 decision to reframe terrorism as a military problem. And though Wilkinson allows the military may play a role in responding to terrorism, he is clear that this role is modest: “In an operative liberal democratic state the framework for tackling terrorist crimes of violence is the criminal justice model” (125, emphasis original). For example, it is a stark irony of their critique that Perliger and Pedahzur cite Alex Schmid's work as evidence of the discipline's lack of progress. If the Bush administration could have read only one book about terrorism, I would have given them Schmid's book (with Janny de Graaf), Violence as Communication (Sage, 1982). In the book, Schmid and de Graaf develop a model of terrorism: “In the triangle Terrorist-Victim-Target, the victim, who is usually but not always associated in some way with the target, serves as instrument to communicate a message to the target which is meant to traumatize, demoralize, or otherwise influence him” (9). One of the crucial mistakes of the U.S. response to 9/11 has been the failure to recognize the target (i.e. audience) of al-Qaeda's attacks. The administration's decision to war focused on the American public, for whom they put on an exceptionally expensive, dangerous production. The actual audience—as indicated by Bin Laden and associates' interminable commentary on the subject—was the Muslim world, especially its Arabic-speaking branches. Before and after 2001, Bin Laden frequently addressed himself to “every Muslim who believes in God and wishes to be rewarded to comply with God's order to kill the Americans” and so on, and after 2001 he only rarely spoke directly to the American people. Meanwhile the work that the Bush administration did ostensibly for the benefit of the American public was only detrimental in the eyes of a great many Muslims in the world.
Moreover, the explicit, oft-stated goal of al-Qaeda was to start a war between the U.S. and the Muslim world; in fact, the 9/11 Commission Report (2004, Norton) tells us that Bin Laden even “complained frequently” that al-Qaeda's attack on the U.S.S. Cole was not sufficient provocation for the U.S. to attack him. Given our response to 9/11, this may be the first terrorist campaign in history to so fully realize its ambitions. (Incidentally, ninth and last on Wilkinson's list: “governments should avoid granting major concessions to terrorists,” in which “concessions” would presumably include complete assent to their goals.) Everything policymakers needed to appreciate the communicative aspects of terrorist violence—the theories, the policies, the information—was available in the literature and public record well before September 11, 2001; yet none of it has been brought to bear, because of the deliberate ignorance embedded in the decision to treat the attacks as war.
We can say at least this for the U.S. response: those of us who study terrorism will never again want for data. And Perliger and Pedahzur's article is indeed a helpful contribution to the literature; I am convinced that social network analysis is useful to understanding the interior workings of terrorist groups, and that this may have policy implications. Yet I seriously doubt SNA will challenge our basic understanding of correct and effective counter-terrorism policy. To the extent that our understanding is presently inadequate, it is only because policymakers dislike it. Further work that does not build on the significant, useful, compelling literature on terrorism—especially work that is dismissive of this literature—risks at least being seen as subordinate to the interests of those policymakers. It also risks irrelevance; the next time something terrible happens, we may again see an administration that ignores academia. Will our discipline ever be able to stand by its work?
My point is not to single out Perliger and Pedahzur; there have been more egregious claims against the literature. I know, as well, that convention requires us to denigrate prior research in order to make our own seem fresh and relevant. That said, given the gravity of this topic, it may be worth suspending this practice for a time. At least we might agree to avoid implying social and political scientists only discovered terrorism on September 11. This is clearly not true, and elides the fact that a significant portion of our work in response to September 11—especially immediately after—lacks the rigor and intellectual integrity of the prior literature.
I do not think we—political and social scientists—know all there is to know about terrorism. We do, however, have a solid understanding of counterterrorism policy. We should seek to affirm and build on that knowledge, rather than replace it, and perhaps take some pride that even with “mainly descriptive and qualitative methods” and “limited theoretical progress,” our discipline has produced a compelling solution to a serious problem. Whether or not the patient takes the medicine is a different problem, and perhaps itself deserves study, but should not diminish or demean our work thus far.
Sincerely,
Miles Townes
Ph.D. Student, George Washington University