What else everyone seemed to be unaware of, as it struck me the moment I realized that there wasn’t a single uniformed police officer around, was how vulnerable this huge impromptu party in the heart of Paris could be. Distressed by report after report of ISIS attacks across the globe in the past weeks, I tried not to think of all the ways in which a suicide bomber or a gunman or a machete-bearer or whatever other evil agent of terror could easily move into this crowd as it hugged and danced and kissed. How easy it would be for such incredible jubilation to turn into pain.
The celebrants themselves were perhaps too euphoric (and intoxicated) to share my worries; but I doubt that I am alone in my elevated state of watchfulness and fear after ISIS’s thorough bloodying of this year’s holy Ramadan. The group, as we saw in recent attacks from Turkey to Bangladesh to Iraq to Saudi Arabia, continues to step up the ambition, scale, and complexity of its operations. In the past weeks, it has proven capable of raiding Europe’s third largest airport, of sneaking a truck full of explosives into one of Baghdad’s busiest streets despite losing control of its main operational base near the city, and targeting the tomb and mosque of Prophet Mohammad himself. A shooting in as far as Orlando, Florida was performed recently by its inspiration and in its name, and as I was reminded often by incessant sirens of police convoys along the Seine, the attacks in Paris and Brussels are not distant memories at all.
What all of these atrocities do show, as various analyses containing different levels of dramatic surprise and fear-mongering have already argued, is that ISIS isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. As the borders of its so-called “state” come under increased pressure in Syria and Iraq, the organization grows, and it will keep growing, more reckless and disgusting in its attacks upon civilian populations. But frankly, what was the hope here to begin with? Were we really to think of transnational 21st century politics as if they are some badly-designed computer strategy game where, once you raze all the buildings and capture all the territory of the enemy faction, you gain a simple, absolute victory?
ISIS, or some other, more terrible incarnation of it under some other name, will be around for a long time–as long as such extremism can reach and inspire thousands of people who feel disenfranchised and discontent enough by their worlds to turn and try to gun it down. It will last as long as the George W. Bushes live happily ever after painting Scottish Terriers. As long as the Tony Blairs of the world can express “sorrow, regret and apology” over what they have done in Iraq (Did we need a Chilcot Report to know that it was “criminal”?) and still shamelessly defend the decision to invade. It will also last as long as despots and opportunists in the Middle East can manipulate the good name of Islam and subvert its very nature for petty greed and political advantage. And, just to reassure the doubtful reader, let me make it perfectly clear: There are many George Bushes and Tony Blairs in the world who think they can somehow unmake and then remake countries and peoples and turn a profit in the process, just like there are many despots and opportunists in the Middle East who will continue to gleefully divide, disenfranchise, and oppress their own peoples. They continue to hold power over, in fact, they continue to shape our institutions, our individual and our collective fates. And while all that still exists, no conquering army shall “end” ISIS. On the day the organization’s capital city of Raqqa falls, and I hope that day comes soon, I will not forget in my celebration that Osama bin-Laden did not need to declare himself Caliph and designate himself a capital city to do his bloody business in New York City in 2001.
What are we to do, then? Roll over and let ISIS finish the job? How is this possibly a piece about hope as its title suggests?
It is one because I have an argument, a perfectly simple one, to counter my own fear in St. Michel: I simply argue that it would do us good to remember the nature of ISIS, and of any organization that has preceded it or that can follow in its footsteps, with the nature of our modern political structures also in mind.
ISIS, while it is an exploiter of vulnerabilities and a violent interrupter of lives, is that–and mostly that: It will never be a fully organized and institutionalized threat, one that is capable not only of interrupting but also extinguishing. It was absolutely possible that some terrorist blew up the one improvised Euro2016 party I was part of in St. Michel–but there is simply no way that the terrorist organization could have attacked every single one of the countless celebrations across the city. And even when ISIS does manage to hit one locale and destroy the joy and liveliness of an entire city, our (otherwise regrettable, at times even disgusting) infinite capacity to mourn and compartmentalize and move on will work as it will–people will still unstoppably rush to malls to buy their children new clothing for Eid, football tournaments and metal concerts will continue to be organized, airports will reopen, pilgrims will continue to walk reverently into the Prophet’s Mosque. And while there is much that is ugly in the capacity so many of us have to continue our lives so quickly following the pain and death of others, it does also mean that ISIS, in a certain sense, will always be fighting a losing war.
None of this is to belittle the violence and pain that ISIS and other terrorist organizations have caused. It is immense, it shatters lives and families and cultures every day, it is barbaric and despicable and wanton. I obviously did not enjoy the thought of randomly being attacked in St. Michel last week, and frankly, forget about me–there are so many people living under a much larger threat from groups such as ISIS, a threat that is incomparably more real than the self-centered ruminations of a man already inclined to anxiety even when in one of the most safely guarded cities in the world. ISIS, in parts of the world, does pose a threat that has moved beyond the realm of interruption, and has moved entire peoples to displacement and destruction. I would never be so insolent as to assert that my line of reasoning here is what someone in an active ISIS conflict zone in Syria or Iraq should or can adopt. I cannot even imagine their experiences.
But what I would like to remind lest I be accused of being a privileged, Western-centric spiller of nonsense is this: The much greater sources of threat in places like Syria in Iraq, and the conditions that allow for the emergence, thriving, and spread of such despicable extremist activity as that of ISIS, stem always from institutional bodies and the corrupt leaders that control those–in the case of the present crisis, despicable American imperialism as performed in its latest incarnation by Bush and cheerled by the likes of Blair, Assad’s sectarian, genocidal Syrian state, and the nepotistic reign of terror of Saddam Hussain. Hence, I hope it is clear that my case for hope against terrorist organizations like ISIS is not the equal of a hedonistic, privilege-ridden “HakunaMatata!”. The kind of hope that I am speaking of, the hope that comes from the knowledge that our collective lifeworlds will most likely endure even when our individual lives may not, must push us to work to reform these lifeworlds—reform them by making our leaders more accountable, our governments more fair, our institutions more respectful and caring of those they are not responsible to serve, and our peoples more tolerant and considerate of one another.
In other words, such hope, as it helps us resist the crippling, disproportionate fear that terror seeks to sow, must by its nature compel us to struggle against persons and bodies that help spawn, will otherwise always help spawn, such terror.
We will not “end” ISIS or ISIS “end” us anytime soon; but if we are to have a shot at all, let us all take a deep and brutally honest -and yet hopeful- look at our leaders and histories and institutions and privileges. But is this really “hope”? Was I cheating when I promised “hope” on my title? I don’t think so—it is not a traditionally comforting sort of hope, perhaps; but it is the kind we can afford to have in our times. Anything more naïve is irresponsible and ignorant.
And to go back to those in Syria and Iraq and wherever else people live under much more pervasive, much more frequent, much more justified fear and destruction of terror, let us learn from those people instead of turning from them with suspicion.
Let us remember that they do not simply “deserve” our attention and support; but that our hope, if we are to have it, compels us to be worthy of their suffering and their efforts.
Let us remember, let us admire, that as they continue to live and often rebuild their lives despite the truly disproportionate amount of injustice and suffering they have been forced to endure, the peoples of such places are bastions of hope and perseverance every day, by virtue of their sheer existence, and frustate those who seek to sow destruction and annihilation -of whatever faction they may be-more than we can ever imagine.