Being Feared Is Not Enough to Keep Us Safe

By Jessica Stern

Saturday, September 15, 2001; Page A27

Americans are eager to retaliate quickly for Tuesday's brutal attacks in New York and Washington. Nearly 90 percent of those surveyed supported taking military action against those responsible even if it led to war, according to a Tuesday-night Washington Post poll.

The desire for revenge at a moment like this is perfectly understandable: We are traumatized as a nation. But striking back quickly is far less important than discouraging future strikes by our enemies, and the two are not the same. We cannot afford to allow an emotional desire for quick retribution to override our long-term national security interests.

When seeking to deter, compel or appease their adversaries, smart leaders first learn about their enemies' desires and fears. It is not clear that quick retaliation is what suicide bombers fear most. We cannot punish the perpetrators; they are already dead. And the organizers of these attacks obviously care more about taking revenge on us than they do about their own security. Osama bin Laden, for example, is reported to have said on Tuesday that he is ready to die, and that if the U.S. military manages to kill him, hundreds more "Osamas" will take his place.

I have met some of these "Osamas." They appear in many countries and subscribe to many religions. They are usually drawn to extremist movements out of a feeling of severe deprivation -- whether socioeconomic, political or psychological. Inside extremist groups, the spiritually perplexed learn to focus on action. The weak become strong. The selfish become altruists, ready to make the ultimate sacrifice of their lives in the belief that their deaths will serve the public good.

Operatives I've interviewed describe the emotional satisfaction of their work and the status they earn in their community. "One becomes important due to his work. Successful operations make a militant famous and glamorous among his fellow men," a trainer for a Pakistani group told me.

Militants describe fighting as becoming a way of life. Jamal Al-Fadl, a member of al Qaeda who became a witness for the U.S. government, said that after the Soviet Union was defeated in Afghanistan, there were a number of men who had been fighting so long that it was "the only thing they really knew how to do." One long-term operative told me, "A person addicted to heroin can get off it if he really tries, but a mujahed cannot leave the jihad. I am spiritually addicted to jihad," he said.

Islamic scholars explain that the jihad doctrine actually delineates acceptable behavior in war and, like the Western "just war tradition," explicitly outlaws terrorism. But in the extremist schools I have visited, clerics, often barely trained themselves, preach a virulent version of Islam, teaching their charges that murder is morally sanctioned and that innocent people are fair prey.

Islam is not the only religion that produces such extremists. A Christian militant who is now on death row for murder told me he was not trying to appeal his death sentence. "The heightened threat, the more difficulties forced on [me as] a Christian, the more joy I experience," he said. Jewish extremists have repeatedly attacked the Dome of the Rock, despite knowing that their actions could cause massive casualties or even war.

Terrorism's greatest weapon is its popular support. When we attack with inadequate intelligence and hit the wrong target or the right ones at the wrong time, as we probably did when we retaliated for bin Laden's 1998 attacks, we play right into our enemies' hands. We look ineffectual. And we strengthen our adversaries' public relations and fundraising strategies.

After the American attacks in 1998, the head of a Pakistani militant group that trains militants in Afghanistan immediately held a press conference pronouncing, "Osama's mission is our mission. It is the mission of the whole Islamic world." The attacks did not enhance America's image with the mujaheddin I've interviewed, who describe Tomahawk missiles as weapons for cowards too afraid to risk their lives in combat or to look their enemy in the eye.

What does this mean for our national security strategy? Our leaders need to commit themselves to a long, hard fight. We need to rely less on high-tech intelligence and more on the old-fashioned kind. But this is a war that must be fought on many fronts, using every tool at governments' disposal: diplomacy, intelligence and, if we identify the perpetrator, military strikes.

But force is not nearly enough. We need to drain the swamps where these young men thrive. We can no longer afford to allow states to fail. Afghanistan's humanitarian and refugee crisis, which profoundly affects Pakistan as well, has become a national security threat to the entire world. We have a stake in the welfare of other peoples and need to devote a much higher priority to health, education and economic development, or new Osamas will continue to arise.

It matters what other people think of us. We need to think much more seriously than we have about whether we are perceived by people in other parts of the world as malevolent or benevolent. Being feared for our military strength alone is not sufficient to guarantee our security.

Jessica Stern is a lecturer on terrorism at Harvard University's Kennedy School of Government. She is the author of "The Ultimate Terrorists."