When last seen here, Henry Farrell of Crooked Timber was taking his ball and going home, offended – deeply offended – that I might suggest that contemporary Western progressivism might have anything to do – well, OK, anything except some common historical roots – with Islamist terrorism.
I caught some inbound traffic on Sitemeter, and went and looked (I’ve been working waaay too much this week to read all the blogs I have in Bloglines), and lo and behold, he’s brought the issue up again. This time in the context of an interesting study (pdf) by Gambetta and Hertog which points out – with some statistical validity – that engineering students are significantly over-represented among terrorists.
It’s a fascinating study, and the kind of thing we need to be doing more of to understand the mechanics of the movement we have to break.The argument I originally made, to refresh your memory, was that the anti-Enlightment, anti-colonial progressive movements in the West influenced Islamic thought up to the 1950’s and the foundation of modern Islamism and that their bastard child is the movement we today call ‘Islamist’; the practitioners of the Islamist style know Fanon as well as Qut’b, speak the language of anti-colonial thought, and comfortably graft Chomsky onto a society that believes that woman can be best liberated by being kept in purdah.
The modern university, in which all forms of non-Western and anti-Western thought are given primacy, or at least lip service (the reality of the anti-Western and anti-Enlightment thought would be hard on the practitioners, as Arundhati Roy notes) is tolerant of these movements, romanticizes them, and – because much of the central arguments the critical-theory progressive movement (as opposed to the labor-union progressive movement I’d be happy to be a part of) have been coopted by Islamists, has no intellectual counter.
The authors discuss anti-Western values in their sample, and present three hypotheses as to why they were so powerful:
Furthermore, even before the Iraq war, radicals’ anger was not directed only against their national states of origin, but took a distinctive anti-Western colour. The focus of the radicalisation too therefore cannot be fully accounted for by relative deprivation per se. Three forces might have arguably intensified and shaped the direction of the frustration, among those with elite degrees. First, modern engineering and science curricula are a gigantic showcase of Western technological achievements, which put the backwardness of MENA societies in sharp relief (Moore 1994: 12f.; Hanafi 1997). Unlike those who pursue humanities or law degrees, engineers, doctors and scientists find it harder to ignore their thriving counterparts in the outside world (Hoffman 1995: 210). Unlike in the humanities, in the field of technology the West appears “monolithic and properly hegemonic” (Waltz 1986: 666), and students of these disciplines cannot as easily segregate their universe from the developed world. The contrast between Western achievements and their countries’ failures could have engendered a sense of collective frustration, which was felt more intensely by those with elite degrees.
Next, those who studied in the West, itself a sign of an even greater ambition and willingness to sacrifice than studying in Islamic countries, had reasons to feel even more deprived: there are at least 25 engineers in our sample who studied abroad, a ratio that strongly suggests that they are vastly over-represented among radical engineers (see fn. 15). At once attracted by Western achievements but disadvantaged in both home and Western countries’ labour markets, their cognitive dissonance was possibly aggravated by the direct exposure to an alien cultural environment. Those who studied in the West are more likely to have suffered not just from envy and resentment, emotions that derive from unfavourable comparisons experienced remotely, but also from anger and hatred, emotions aroused by cultural displacement (Wright 2006: 304) and direct humiliating interactions. These emotions are more likely to trigger action-responses (Elster 1999) – a desire to destroy the object of hatred, the West and its impure social mores, and a passionate embrace of traditional religious values. Mohamed Atta often bemoaned Western influence in Arab cities (Holmes 2005): according to Dittmar Machule, his thesis supervisor at the Technical University of Hamburg-Harburg in north Germany, Atta hated skyscrapers because in the city of Aleppo, on which he wrote his doctoral dissertation, tall buildings stole the privacy of the traditional Arab homes in whose courtyard women were once able to remove their veils unseen by strangers (Rose 2004).
Third, even those who did not go abroad found reasons to feel frustrated by Western technological dominance at home: resentment appears to have been fuelled by the competition of foreign firms, especially in public constructions funded by MENA states and international aid organisations. In Egypt in 1993 there were 60.000 foreign experts, 12.000 of whom were Americans, whose income often for the same job was manifold greater than that of local engineers – there are several testimonies of how much bitterness this caused not just towards foreigners but also towards the state guilty of privileging the latter over local resources (Moore 1994: 98; Hanafi 1997: 212).
To this, I’d add another; a lack of any legitimizing philosophy that they may have been exposed to that supports the West as any kind of learning model; for students who studied in Western universities (who were, interestingly even more over-represented), exposure to philosophies and values which legitimized their growing rage and helped direct it at the West, while offering little balancing criticism of Islamist radical thought.
From the paper, an interesting footnote on the place of radical values:
There is anecdotal evidence pointing to some degree of ‘continuity of style’ [in Egypt – AL] between Marxist groups and Islamists. In the episode we mentioned at the beginning, when Zawahiri boasted to Schleifer about the medical and engineering students in his
groupSchleifer replied that in the sixties those same faculties had been strongholds of the Marxist youth. The Islamist movement, he observed, was merely the latest trend in student rebellions. “I patronized him,” Schleifer remembers. “I said, ‘Listen, Ayman, I’m an ex-Marxist. When you talk, I feel like I’m back in the Party. I don’t feel as if I’m with a traditional Muslim.'” He was well bred and polite, and we parted on a friendly note. But I think he was puzzled.
(Wright 2002)
That university culture of contentless radicalism is what I’m happy to criticize. I don’t suggest (and never have) that political theory professors attempt to get their students to join radical movements (mine just tried to get me to go to grad school and get a PhD). But I will suggest that the cheap coffee-house political philosophy of my youth – in which Huey Newton was idolized at my alma mater – is strikingly close to the contemporary philosophy in which the articulate thug of the day is the current idol.
What does it say for our current political philosophy that it has so few answers to this?
And I guess the interesting question to me – right after the one raised in the paper that you ought to read – why it is that someone would study political philosophy if they didn’t think it had an impact?