   Issue: 2 April
2005 |
PAGE 1 of 1
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| Al-Qa’eda is a conspiracy of alienated middle-class
kids Brendan O’Neill
When Sajid Badat, formerly of Gloucester, pleaded guilty at the
Old Bailey to conspiring to blow up an aeroplane with a crude
shoe-bomb device (before bottling it), there was an audible intake
of breath among New Labour politicians and Muslim community leaders.
The papers said he was quiet and bright, a good Muslim educated at a
Church of England school (Gloucester’s prestigious Crypt Grammar
School for Boys, which counts the late Sir Robin Day among its
alumni). What was a nice kid like him doing hanging out with a nasty
crew like al-Qa’eda?
In fact, Badat is about as archetypal an al-Qa’eda member as you
will find. For al-Qa’eda is not a loony group from ‘over there’,
peopled by weirdo Johnny Arabs raised on a diet of falafels and
hatred for the West. On the contrary, it is as middle-class as the
Women’s Institute (though with vastly different hobbies and
interests). Its members tend to be well-educated and gainfully
employed, and many became radicalised (or perhaps ‘terrorised’) over
here. They are more like us than we care, or dare, to admit.
Dr Marc Sageman of the University of Pennsylvania has conducted
an exhaustive study of al-Qa’eda’s people. He collected the life
histories of 400 individuals either in al-Qa’eda or closely linked
to it, and found that traditional theories of what motivates a
terrorist — poverty, desperation, ignorance — did not apply in
al-Qa’eda’s case. Indeed, some of them turned their backs on cushy
lives to sign up for bin Laden’s fanciful war against the West.
A majority of Sageman’s sample were well-to-do: 17.6 per cent
were upper class, 54.9 per cent were middle class and 27.5 per cent
were lower class. For those individuals whose educational records
were available, 16.7 per cent had been educated to a level less than
high school; 12.1 per cent had at least a high school education;
28.8 per cent had some college education; 33.3 per cent had a
college degree; and 9 per cent had a postgraduate degree. Only 9.4
per cent had a religious education and 90.6 per cent had a secular
education.
This good schooling is reflected in their career paths: 42.5 per
cent were professionally employed (as doctors, lawyers, teachers,
etc.), 32.8 per cent had a semi-skilled job, and 24.6 per cent were
unskilled. The average age was 25.69 years; the ‘Central Staff’ —
the leading figures close to bin Laden — had an average age of 27.9.
For those subjects whose marital status was known, 73 per cent were
hitched and most had children. And while al-Qa’eda clearly has a
perverse and twisted view of the world, its associates are not
bonkers: there were only four cases of a ‘possible thought disorder’
and one subject had ‘mild mental retardation’.
Strikingly, 70 per cent joined the jihad while away from home.
Sageman describes them as the ‘elite of their country’ sent abroad
to study because the schools in Germany, France, England and the US
are better. Egyptian-born Mohammed Atta, who crashed the jet into
the North Tower of the World Trade Center on 9/11, became a
violent-minded extremist while studying architecture in Hamburg.
Ahmed Omar Sheikh, the Briton convicted of murdering American
journalist Daniel Pearl, attended the London School of Economics.
Al-Qa’eda’s ‘breeding ground’, it seems, is as much in fragmented
cities in the West as in hotbeds of Islamism in the East.
How did these apparently good kids go so bad? Sageman reckons it
is more to do with feeling alienated from society than fulfilling
some deep-seated anti-Western bloodlust. ‘They become separated from
traditional bonds and culture, and drift to the mosques more for
companionship than for religion.’ Here they encounter extremists who
appear to offer an all-encompassing explanation for their feelings.
‘They hear this narrative, this script, about the corruption of the
West, and it seems to make sense to them.’ And when you buy into
something that seems to explain everything, you can soon be coaxed
into doing almost anything.
Perhaps we need radically to rethink our view of al-Qa’eda
violence; perhaps it is less a declaration of war from afar than a
case of middle-class attention-seekers throwing terror tantrums. And
perhaps the more that cynical politicians talk up al-Qa’eda as a
great threat, the more they inadvertently make it an attractive
option for disgruntled youths desperate to find a way to stick it to
society. After all, even a saddo like Badat was instantly
transformed from a mummy’s boy into a ‘very real threat to the life
and liberty of our country’ (David Blunkett’s words) by undergoing
some training in Pakistan and then boasting to his mates: ‘I’m in
al-Qa’eda.’
Our time might be better spent exposing the al-Qa’eda script for
the nonsense it is than in fretting that these few posh bombers are
going to destroy life as we know it.
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