الاثنين، 16 أغسطس 2010

Punish and be damned

Aug 27th 1998

HOWEVER frequently it occurs, terrorism does not lose its ability to shock. Nor should it. It remains one of the most despicable of crimes, both because the killing and wounding of innocents are central to its purpose, and because its perpetrators can so easily do their work without having to confront their enemies, or their victims, before slinking off to safety. The sense of outrage that attends terrorist attacks should not, however, be assumed to be equivalent to a sense of powerlessness: public outrage is one of the most potent weapons in the limited armoury of counter-terrorism. It tips those who sympathise with the political aims of the terrorist against the man himself. It denies sanctuary. It buys co-operation. Nothing should be done to undermine its potency. Which is why at least some of America’s counter-terrorist air strikes on August 20th may turn out to have been unwise.

That is not to say that America should never hit back at terrorists. America is a special target for people like the bombers who blew up its embassies in Kenya and Tanzania on August 7th because it does things other countries are not called upon to do. It does these things in its own interests, but also in the interests of its allies and indeed of free countries everywhere. It is the nearest thing that exists to a world policeman, but it must operate without a world police force, a world judiciary or a proper world system of law. Sometimes, if any action is to be taken against terrorists, it will have to be American military action. But even on these occasions America will have to take care to keep public opinion on its side and not to dissipate the world’s sense of outrage. That means explaining its actions in full, and showing convincing evidence for all the claims it makes to justify them.

Few fair-minded people can doubt that the targets of the attacks in Afghanistan were indeed training camps and bases for Islamist fanatics. Many people will also be ready to believe that Osama bin Laden, the hitherto obscure Saudi dissident now elevated to the status of the world’s most dangerous man, is connected with the camps, and that he played a part in the two embassy bombings. That will be enough perhaps to make many people, at least in the West, think the attacks were right, and deserved. Whether they were judicious is another matter. If they have created 10,000 new fanatics where there would have been none, they will be judged a mistake, but that will not be known for years, if ever.

The attack on the factory in Sudan is different. Although a financial link is claimed between the factory and Mr bin Laden, there is no suggestion that biological or chemical weapons were involved in the embassy attacks. Rather it is claimed that the factory was, with Iraqi help, making the precursors for a nerve gas. The evidence for nerve-gas production is said to lie in soil samples, but it cannot be revealed because that would put intelligence sources in jeopardy. The Sudanese government pooh-poohs the entire story and, reasonably enough, wants an inquiry.

The trouble with all this is not just the refusal to show evidence, not just the decision to zap this factory rather than countless other dubious installations round the world, nor even the absence of any connection to the embassy bombings. It is also the political convenience of the action, diverting, as it did, attention from Bill Clinton’s domestic troubles. And it is the knowledge that American intelligence is not infallible, and that America’s armed forces can make terrible mistakes: just ten years ago, for instance, one of its guided-missile cruisers, the Vincennes, shot down an Iranian airliner with 290 civilians on board.


Repent at leisure

That episode is less talked about in the United States these days than the blowing up of an American airliner over Lockerbie a few months later, but both hold lessons. The Vincennes blunder, for which America duly paid compensation, shows the dangers of hasty action. Not only did it kill many innocent people, but it contributed to a poisoning of relations with Iran and a belief, still widespread in the Islamic world, that the West puts a small price on the lives of Muslims. The Lockerbie incident, in which 270 people died, holds a different moral: it is that painstaking investigation and the pursuit of terrorists through the courts can be an effective response to terrorism. This week, the two Libyans suspected of playing a part in the bombing suddenly found that they might have to stand trial in The Hague, now that Britain and America have agreed that they can be tried there under Scottish law. Libya, which has been harbouring the suspects, was thrown on to the defensive and at last agreed to their trial.

Forgoing the use of military might can be frustrating, especially for a superpower. But it may well be wise. Israel, which has long followed a policy of retaliation against terrorism, has not thereby won security—and the United States, incidentally, has forfeited much of its goodwill in the Muslim world by its inability to persuade the Israelis to pursue negotiation. If it resorts to punishment raids without the best of reasons, and without the best of evidence, America risks finding itself increasingly friendless in truly important disputes, such as the one with Saddam Hussein’s Iraq. Vigilance, intelligence and the determined pursuit of terrorists through the courts may pay off handsomely in the long run—without putting at risk the world’s sense of outrage and the help that comes with it.

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