The banality of terrorism

Candlelight vigil in Trafalgar Square, London to remember those who lost their lives in the Westminster terrorist attack. Yui Mok/Press Association. All rights reserved. So, once again, we face a terrorist attack in the western
world. And moreover, not only do we face the reality of the bloodshed, the
violence and the affront we all feel in the sense of a violation of security,
we also face the need to respond. Each time these attacks take place, whether
in Brussels, Paris or London (but perhaps not Baghdad) the same messages, texts
and narratives emerge across newspapers, television screens and social media.
What is interesting to note is how these narratives, themes and ideas are appearing
increasingly lazy and inadequate.

As soon as the events in Westminster began to
unfold, each actor began to play their role – their lines rehearsed, their
movements pre-determined and choreographed. News outlets poured across our
social media with timelines of events, dramatic and amateur hand-held camera
footage, action shot images, trigger warnings about graphic scenes we may find
distressing (but cannot look away from), profiles of a hero captured in the
moment, and speculative pieces on the character of the main suspect and any potential
links to carefully constructed phrases such as ‘Islamist-inspired’ terrorism.

Politicians then have their share of the narrative
space offering their contributions: discourses of freedom, of never giving in,
of being above this – Britain’s values won’t be defeated. Each political leader
had their turn and had their say, and they all said the same thing.

And then you have the critics. Those who point out
how you weren’t upset by the bombing the other day in Kabul, those who mention
the number of people who died yesterday in car accidents, those who blame
British foreign policy, those who attempt to open the debate from the stock of
narratives that come from more powerful voices.

And of course, you have the more fringe responses:
from racist tweeters jumping on a bandwagon to incite hate and division to
those who perhaps support the actions of the attacker, taking pride in taunting
victims.

And yet, through all these diverse narratives there
appears one common theme: they are all wearing thin. Each of these narratives
appears tired, over-used, more emaciated than when last rolled out in a tweet
or a post. In examining media responses, both print and social, there appears a
potent sense of boredom, of tiredness, of having seen this story before and of knowing
how it will probably end: tragedy for the victims, a tightening of surveillance
and a spike in hate crime.

The cracks in the political narrative are certainly
more obvious than on their last outing. Take Theresa May’s speech on the night
of the attacks for example: a sombre tone, a podium positioned for strength and
leadership, a message of defiance, an emphasis on values. One can’t help but
feel like these themes have simply been copied and pasted from the last time an
attack took place – a template story taken from the shelf with only the dates
and names altered. Quite equally, Sadiq Khan’s video lacked the leadership or
poignancy of Ken Livingstone’s in 2005 – a speech, which even while delivered
on video from Singapore, seemed to speak the voice of the Londoner, rather than
the looping voice of the ‘terrorist attack responder’ of today: repeating ad
nauseam exactly what has been said before. The speeches lacked punch, gravitas
or a political energy on which a critical counter-terror policy could take
hold.

But these inadequacies in leadership and oratory
demonstrate not the mediocre quality of current political leaders, but rather
demonstrate the need for a profound shift in the way that such incidents are
both spoken of and dealt with by political institutions and leaders. Seemingly
endless and brazenly empty narratives around values, freedom and defiance
cannot alter the fact that the public is aware that little is being done to
alter the political landscape such that the next attack won’t take place.
Instead, these repeated phrases instil a fatalistic and normalising mode of
thinking in the wider public: there’s been another attack, I hope I’m not
caught up in the next one.

Yet, the critics equally need to reflect on their
own narratives. The message that terrorists kill fewer people annually in the western
world than bathtubs appears to fall on deaf ears. And not because of ignorance.
Many people in society are aware of the irrationality of the heightened fear of
the terrorist. Yet, as the philosopher Slavoj Zizek argued – it’s not that we
don’t know what we do, it’s that we do know, and yet we still do it. We know we
shouldn’t be as scared of the looming terrorist as the increasing number of
cars on Britain’s roads, or the meagre provision of safe cycling
infrastructure, and yet we still are. And that is not going to change by
itself. If the critics want to change counter-terror policy, it is their
narrative that must also shift. It needs a more creative response to burst
through this complacent thinking.

Responses to terror need a fresh approach if these
responses are to play a constructive part in the production of a world where
terror ceases to exist. Current responses seem to normalise terrorism –
cementing it in the everyday reality of daily life, much in the same way we
accept poverty, homelessness or inequality. We’ve accepted that this is just
the way things are. This is unhelpful thinking both for policy-makers, and for
those working on a more critical approach to terrorism. Terrorism is becoming
banal. We need to shift that thinking.

But what should that response be?