The terrorists responsible for the failed attacks in London and Glasgow may not have claimed any lives, but they did claim reputations. Theos' recent research into the attempts’ effects on public perception shows that their actions were not without negative consequences. 71% of those questioned thought the events to have given Islam a bad name, while 54% felt the standing of religion in general to have suffered.
The findings come on the back of an announcement that Gordon Brown’s cabinet will no longer refer to the Islamic religion in connection with terrorism. Gone too is the controversial “War on Terror” label, which occasioned so much comment when it was first adopted by Brown’s predecessor. As the new PM looks to redefine the terms of the debate so as to avoid stoking community divisions - part of a broader agenda which has also seen the revival of traditional symbols of British unity - Theos’ research raises some important questions about how we engage as a society with religions and the terrorists who invoke them.
Can we judge a whole religion - or even religion generally - by the actions of a few adherents? That nearly three quarters of the public feel Islam to have been given a bad name by the failed bombings indicates that many of us are willing to do so. It was perhaps in recognition of this that British Muslims felt the need to stage an anti-terror rally in Glasgow, and to take out full-page advertisements in the national press declaring that such attacks are not in their name. But why should a law-abiding Muslim feel he or she has to answer for the actions of those who find in faith a justification for terror?
Part of the problem may be the theological illiteracy of the debate which surrounds such episodes. The ideas which motivate atrocities are often left unanalysed. Recourse is instead made to crude reductionism: there is a tacit assumption in much of the reportage that religious rhetoric must necessarily be acting as a primitive mask for something else, such as socio-economic concerns or foreign policy objections. Perhaps if British Muslims were understood more in terms of the teachings to which they subscribe, rather than as a homogenous community given to expressing its grievances in “God-talk”, it would be easier to distinguish between competing accounts of Muslim teaching and to identify the character of those which encourage violence. Muslims might begin to see how to combat extremists on their own territory, while the non-Muslim majority would avoid giving the impression of indiscriminate suspicion.
That over half of respondents thought the reputation of religion generally to have suffered in the wake of the events which occurred in London and Glasgow serves to underline the point: theological ignorance is widespread. We would not consider it a sign of nuanced thinking if a man were to dislike all forms of human government in view of the crimes of Pol Pot and Stalin, and it does not say much for the popular understanding of religion if Zoroastrianism and Unitarianism are thought to have been tarnished by Wahhabist outrages. Recent atheist apologias by people who should know better have manifested a similar lack of discernment, condemning a monolithic “religion” which has no real-life equivalent. A more reflective discourse - making distinctions where they exist - is needed. And we must be willing to engage with and critique destructive theologies on their own terms.
This is not to say that direct engagement with religious motivations will always result in welcome conclusions. In a recent piece for the International Herald Tribune (‘Only traditional Islam can do it’, July 8th 2007) theologians Phillip Blond and Adrian Pabst observe that “the Koran contains clear and lethal injunctions against apostates, idolaters and those who challenge Muslim territorial ascendancy”; even as they argue that recent “Islamic terrorism” owes little to classical Islam itself, the authors contend that the Muslim religion’s foundational text endorses certain forms of violence. Some Muslims would doubtless disagree with Pabst and Blond’s reading of the Koran, and there is clearly scope for debate. But the debate should be had. Honest engagement will demand the asking of tougher questions than those to which our political class has been accustomed until now.
There will be those who say that these are long-term concerns, and that theological discussion – with its ivory tower connotations – will do little to overcome present hostilities. Yet Theos’ research would seem to suggest that the question is not going to go away any time soon. If the new prime minister’s concern for national unity is truly forward-looking, he should be struck by the fact that the youngest class of respondents (18-25) were more than twice as likely as those over 65 to regard Islam as “fundamentally a religion of war”.
If we truly want to counter terrorism, we need to start doing some theology.
Francis Murphy is a postgraduate student of theology at Oxford.
