How selective solidarity and sympathy aids a jingoistic foreign policy
On Sunday evening, the first news reports started to come
through that France had conducted its largest bombing campaign to date
against an ‘ISIS stronghold’ in Raqqa, Syria. The Guardian referred to
Raqqa as an ‘IS bastion’, and that the decision to launch
such ‘massive, retaliatory airstrikes’ was an act of “self-defence”,
according to french foreign minister, Laurent Fabius. These airstrikes
follow Friday’s terror attacks in Paris that left over 140 people dead.
Speaking on the first day of the G20 summit in Turkey, Laurent Fabius claimed that
“France has always said that because she
has been threatened and attacked by Daesh(ISIS), it would be
normal that
she would react in the framework of self-defence. That’s what we did
today with the strikes on Raqqa..we can’t let Daesh act without
reacting.”
Aside from drawing attention to the
carefully selected language of war deliberately used by elements of the
mainstream media, in events such as these, it is important to carefully
consider the public perception and acknowledgement of these claims of
self defence and the environment that gives them such qualification.
Almost immediately, following the Paris
attacks, hashtags to pray for Paris were everywhere on social media and
Facebook gave users the opportunity to cover their profile pictures in
the colours of the French flag. Without falling into the sickening
diatribe and ideological battles of the nitpicking left, it is important
to understand that despite France using
the narrative of self defence to justify a violent, ongoing bombing
campaign, the public have inevitably fallen lockstep into an alliance
that although perceived as defensive or sympathetic by those who make
such gestures, it can easily appear offensive to others. At the current
time of writing, massive portions of social media from Facebook to
Twitter are awash with the same flag that don the jets dropping bombs on
a city of 200,000 people. A city that was once home to over a million
Syrians but whose lives have been destroyed not only by ISIS but a war
that foreign powers have been instigating from the beginning, including
France.
The day before the events in Paris, 43
people were killed in an ISIS attack in Beirut and an ISIS suicide
bomber killed 18 people in Baghdad. The reaction to these tragic events
however contained very little of the sentiments of solidarity and
sympathy reserved for the victims of the attacks in Paris. A predictable
response to such selective grief has inevitably taken centre stage
however and not only do we have French flags covering social media
accounts but a new army of keyboard warriors taking it upon themselves
to lecture on victimhood and decide whether someone has the right to
grieve depending on their past displays of grief to other tragic events.
Various political groups or individuals are engaging in self righteous
rhetorical questioning and declarations of one being less racist or more
internationalist in scope has become more immediately important than
the tragic deaths of innocent people, whether in Paris, Beirut, Baghdad,
or indeed Raqqa.
We must get past petty and divisive
tribal ideological battles if we are to understand why certain parts of
the general public react to these tragic events in such a different
manner. If we seriously wish to present obstacles to the inevitably
violent reactions to such events, whether dropping bombs on Syria or
setting fire to a refugee camp in Calais, we must understand the
environment in which these power relationships take place. The public
perception to a specific event is shaped by a public discourse that
links language, institutions and practices and only by deconstructing
this relationship can we begin to understand the divisive structures
that make such selective grief inevitable. For instance, just as Raqqa
is described as an “ISIS stronghold”, Bourj
el-Barajneh, the predominately Shia suburb of Beirut that ISIS attacked
on Thursday was described in the press as a “Hezbollah stronghold.” Such
language takes away the humanity of the innocent victims of the ISIS
attack and gives the impression of the event as one which has taken
place in an ongoing violent war between muslim groups, far away in the
battlefield of the Arab world. The purpose of this is to sow the idea of
difference, the idea of us and them, western values and muslim values,
here and there, and if such a conflict spills over into our world, it
has less to do with the violent foreign policy of our governments and
more to do with the muslims who have come here, bringing “their”
violence with them.
So long as this divisive discourse is
prevalent in our narrative, the issue of surveillance and more draconian
practices through the security services becomes a much more pressing
issue than the need to question the aggressive, murderous foreign policy
of our governments. Following 9/11, although also much earlier to a
lesser degree, “Muslimness” has been racialized through surveillance.
Since all racisms are socially and politically constructed rather than
resting on the reality of any biological “race,” cultural markers
associated with Muslimness (forms of dress, languages, etc.) have become
racial signifiers which indicate a people supposedly prone to violence
and terrorism, justifying a whole range of surveillance and
criminalization, from arbitrary arrests, indefinite detention,
deportation, torture, solitary confinement, the use of secret evidence,
and sentencing for crimes that “we” would not be jailed for, such as
speech, donations to charitable organizations, and other such acts
considered material support for terrorism. These racial underpinnings
also help to sustain the foreign policy objectives of the US and Europe
as the vast death toll in Afghanistan, Iraq, Pakistan, Somalia, Yemen,
Libya, Syria and elsewhere could not be sustained without the
dehumanization of its Muslim victims. Racism at home goes hand in hand
with empire abroad.
Laurent Fabius was right when he said
France could not let ISIS act without reacting as that is an inevitable
feature of the divisive discourse we have created. So long as this
divisive narrative keeps us in a constant state of war, a war that now
has a tangible enemy, or at least a collective label to associate with
terrorism, every action requires a reaction. Whilst maintaining the
language of war, every politician is a war politician and every war
politician must react to “acts of war, orchestrated from outside” as
French president Francois Hollande described the attacks on Paris and
repeated standoffs, along with making decision makers ever more jittery,
will inevitably prepare European populations psychologically for war,
whether real or not. As we can see throughout history however, each
crisis creates ever more resentment from those who feel they have been
the ones to back down or compromise along the way, or those who have
been on the receiving end of new security measures in response to the
ongoing elements of such a crisis. Both of these psychological responses
play into the hands of radical elements which will inevitaly amplify
such resentment and make it more difficult to back down or display
caution when the next crisis takes place. In the first quarter of this
year following the attacks on Charlie Hebdo, attacks on muslims in
France increased by 500% and is already triple that number for this
year. This reality has a causative effect on, amongst many other issues,
the fact that hundreds of French muslims, as well as British and other
European muslims are swelling the ranks of ISIS in Syria and the
popularity of right wing parties in France and other countries within
the EU is growing at an alarming rate. The divisions are ever widening
and the battle lines are being drawn whether we choose to engage with
them or not.
No matter how afraid we are or how sympathetic we feel towards tragic victims of violent atrocities, so long as we still prioritise our own privilege, unquestioning and complicit in the discursive formations that use racialised othering to justify the actions of our own governments in this war, real or not, we can only ever be considered within the category which Jean Paul Sartre aptly describes as “half victim, half accomplice. like everyone,” when such violence inevitably returns.
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